by A J Sherwood
Now, if he could just convince his gorgeous boss to not be quite so hands-on with him, that would be great.
Aleks came back into the home office and draped himself along the back of Harris’s chair. He smelled of some sort of musk cologne and warm skin and god, Harris really didn’t know how to explain to Aleks that he was in danger of swallowing his tongue when the man did this. Aleks was the type to be touchy-feely and really, truly didn’t understand the impact he had on people when he casually snuggled up to them.
Was this a Brazilian thing? Or just an Aleks thing? Harris knew so little about Brazilian culture he couldn’t even begin to guess. He did know that if the man didn’t straighten up soon, he’d lose control and lick him. And that…would not be good. In any sense.
“How is it?” Aleks inquired.
Harris mentally gave himself a slap and focused. “Boss, I hate to say this, but this isn’t an outside job. Her firewall is intact, no sign of her being hacked. And whoever did this, they weren’t using a program to figure out her password. They logged in easy-peasy first try.”
Aleks hummed low, digesting this. “Can you trace it?”
“Yeah, I need a few more minutes. But it was transferred to another account, that much I got.”
“Okay, keep tracing. I want to know where to point a finger before talking to her again.”
Harris didn’t breathe until Aleks straightened up, turning to lean against the side of the desk. Of course, the view hampered him because just standing there, the man looked fine. He was too short to be considered model pretty, facial structure too strong, but Harris had a weakness for his sharp cheekbones. And his hands, those masculine, blunt-nailed hands. His black hair had a hint of curl, looking soft and touchable, a nice frame for those warm brown eyes. The eyes with just a hint of crow’s feet at the corners as Aleks’s thirty years slowly caught up with him. The crow’s feet he really wanted to kiss.
Bank accounts. Focus on bank accounts.
He chewed on his bottom lip absently as he followed the trail, frown deepening as he did so. Yeah, that wasn’t good. “Boss, the money was wired to another account under a Lois McCallister. Then she spent it all in three large checks, cashier’s checks each time. I can put a stop payment on those and wire the money back?”
“Let’s talk to our client first.” Aleks stepped out and called to the client, Mrs. Barnhouse and brought her back in. “Harris, if you could explain once more for her.”
That was new. Usually Aleks did all the explanations. Harris looked up at the middle-aged woman, saw her worry and agitation, and broke it down into layman’s terms. “Hi, ma’am. So, to make a long story short, you didn’t get hacked. No identity theft, either. Someone accessed your home computer and knew your bank login info. Got in on the first try, too. They transferred all your money to their account—Lois McCallister. That ring a bell?”
The woman’s jaw dropped and she spluttered, “That bitch! Yes, I know her. She’s soon to be my ex-daughter-in-law. My son’s divorcing her in court and she’s already been told she won’t get any alimony. They’re arguing over dog custody right now.”
Dog…custody? Yeah, okay, whatever. Harris wasn’t that curious. “Yeah, well, she sent it to her account and then made out three cashier’s checks for the whole amount. Looks like she paid off two credit cards and a car?”
Mrs. Barnhouse fumed, her hands clenching into fists. “I’ll kill her. Can you get my money back?”
“Yes ma’am, I can stop payments and transfer it back. I can also set up new security on your computer so people can’t get in. You want me to do that?”
“All of it,” she said firmly. “Do all of it. Aleks, I’m so embarrassed. Here I was lambasting you for faulty security and I let that viper in myself.”
Harris let his boss smooth over feathers as he did as he was told. He put an alert on her account as well, so if someone tried wiring money out, he’d be notified. Also another alert if someone tried too many times to get into the computer to begin with. Just in case.
It took longer for them to leave than it did for him to diagnose the problem. Harris finally settled into his boss’s truck with a sigh of relief. Upset people always made him jumpy. Yelling especially. Nothing good ever followed yelling.
Aleks reached over and squeezed his shoulder gently, giving him that brilliant smile. “Good job. I’m glad I brought you with me. I’d never figure out what was happening without you.”
Shyly, he ducked his head. “No problem, boss.”
“Let’s get lunch, yeah? My treat. You made a cranky client happy with us, and that definitely deserves a reward.”
Harris was alright with this plan. Anytime he didn’t have to pay for food was always a bonus. He got paid alright—Aleks and Connie weren’t misers—but life was expensive. He’d learned this the hard way over the past two months. He’d never been in charge of his own bills and rent before. It had been something of a brutal learning curve.
As Aleks backed out of the driveway, he asked, “What would you like to eat?”
“Um, Korean?”
“I know a good place near here. Seoul Garden. That sound alright?”
“Sure.” Harris hadn’t been there yet, but then, he was still figuring out a lot of basics in the city. Restaurants were one of them.
“I’ve meant to have a good one-on-one with you anyway. You settled in okay to your new apartment? You need anything?”
Harris stared at him in complete befuddlement, not sure at all how to respond to this. Had he ever been asked that question? “Um, I’m good.”
“You don’t sound sure of that,” Aleks teased, flashing him that million-watt smile.
This part of Aleks unnerved Harris. But only because he couldn’t figure out how to respond to it. The teasing and the borderline flirtation, the way the man came off as a friend—it was so outside of his experience it wasn’t even funny. He wanted to relax with this man, to make friends. He just knew Aleksander De Sousa would be an awesome friend. But making friends meant answering questions like that honestly and finding things to do together, right?
Harris swallowed hard and made an effort. “I feel like I should buy furniture. A couch, a bed. But I don’t know how to get it home.”
Aleks stopped at a light and gave him that look that was part sympathy, part anger. Harris had the feeling his reactions didn’t hide as much as he thought they did. Either that, or Aleks was more perceptive than he’d given him credit for. He didn’t say anything other than, “Most furniture stores deliver, if you’re in the right radius. How about after work, I take you shopping.”
That sounded potentially amazing. Harris had no idea where to go, either, to get decent furniture. “I’d like that.”
Aleks focused on the road and hit the gas as the light turned green. “Good. We’ll do that.”
Six months ago
Harris
“Harris? You dead in there?”
Harris groaned at the loud voice outside his apartment’s door. He was in a ground-floor apartment, which most of the time worked in his favor, but not when someone was banging on his door. His bedroom was right next to the entrance. He could hear everything.
It took energy he didn’t have to pull himself out of the cocoon of blankets. Zombies had more grace than he did as he fetched up next to the door and yanked it open. Blearily, he stared at the (unfairly) handsome man on his doorstep. “Whazzit?”
Aleks looked him over from head to foot, taking in the sweatshirt, boxers, bed hair, and overall state of I’m Sick. “Yeah, I figured you were bad off if you missed work three days in a row. You sound like a frog. A frog on the verge of laryngitis.”
Harris Jones was present and accounted for, but regrettably unable to respond in person given that he was endeavoring to relearn the art of respiration.
Waving a hand in front of his face, Aleks tried again, “Harris? Harris~ Yoo-hoo? Yeah, no one’s home. Merda, I had a feeling he was bad, but this looks like flu. Okay, garoto, let�
��s put you back in bed, yeah?”
Bed. Through the foggy swirl of brain cells, that word floated enticingly. Harris docilely went where Aleks led him, flopping back into the bed and only squirming up so he was propped onto three pillows. Lying down=not breathing. Very important to keep his head up.
Aleks pursed his lips at him in a disapproving way, then went back out again. Harris tried to track it, but the random clatters and bangs of cabinets opening and the odd Portuguese word meant nothing to him.
Coming back into the bedroom, Aleks planted a hand on his hip and scolded, “You have no food in this house. I don’t count ramen as food, there’s no nutritional value in that crap. And please tell me you’re not just taking aspirin and dealing. Didn’t you get any medication?”
That was a lot of words. Harris tried to parse through it and failed about halfway. “Uh?”
Shaking his head, Aleks pulled out his phone from a back jeans pocket. “Clearly, I need to call in reinforcements. Or at least get advice. You need my mae’s vegetable soup. That will help you kick whatever you got. Bom dia, Mae. Como vai você? Si, si. Como vocé faz aquela sopa de legumes? A que você sempre fez pra mim quando estou doente. Quê? Não, eu não tô doente, meu amigo está.”
Harris listened without it really penetrating. It was nice, hearing him speak like that in his native language. Portuguese was kinda sexy sounding. Or maybe Aleks just made it sound sexy. It took too much brain power to decide right now, so Harris shelved the debate for later.
Someone cared for him enough to check up on him. Make him soup. Scold him for not taking medicines. Shove him back in bed. It had been a long, long time since he’d had any of that. Harris couldn’t actually remember having it at all. A smile on his face, he fell asleep, reveling in the feeling of being cared for.
Five months ago
Aleks
“Above you, above you!” Aleks said, even as his avatar on screen ducked and rolled to the right.
Harris did not react in time and his avatar took a hit, sending him into critical levels. Fortunately, he had enough health to retreat into a building so the dragon didn’t chomp him up on the next dive in.
It had surprised the hell out of Aleks when he learned his computer-obsessed friend had never played a video game in his life. There was a lot of odd things about Harris that didn’t add up initially for Aleks. Harris didn’t talk much about his family or his childhood—and by ‘not much’ Aleks meant not at all. Aleks got the impression of a very strict, controlling set of parents who had tried to stomp out any sense of self-identity or creativity. He’d learned the first month in to never yell at Harris. He just shut down entirely if Aleks got loud. Portuguese itself was a loud language, but he found himself speaking it in a lower tone near Harris, not wanting to scare him.
He liked Harris, though. Aleks really wanted to make friends with him, and Harris seemed game for this. He’d casually introduced Harris to Minecraft, as he thought it would be a fun game for Harris to play. Aleks had gotten sucked into it because of his two brothers, and they often met up online on Friday nights to play together. Minecraft had a few dungeons with bosses to fight, and it was the first time Harris had joined them in one.
As expected of an expert hacker, Harris picked up on the game quickly. He was already far better at it than Aleks had been when he’d first started. Color him surprised.
This was the third weekend of them hanging out together. Harris, once past the whole politeness of boss-subordinate, proved to be very fun. They sat side by side on the floor now, laptops on the coffee table, almost close enough for their knees to bump into each other. He liked that too, immensely, having Harris within touching distance. American culture was too stiff about personal space. He took it as a mark of achievement that Harris now let him into that personal bubble more often than not.
“Shit, I’m almost out of food,” Harris whined. “I’ve got two steaks left.”
“I’ve got some fish and chips,” Aleks offered. “Can you get to me?”
“Assuming the dragon stops riding my ass for thirty seconds, sure.” Harris kicked on his jetpack and headed for him, glowing sword in hand.
Aleks’s older brother, Davi, warned over their Discord chat, “Dragon’s coming back around! Come on guys, his health bar is halfway down, we can do this.”
“Speak for yourself,” Leo, the youngest of the brothers, corrected in a scoffing tone. “I’m down to basically no food and I’ve already broken one sword on its hide. Damn, this boss is tough. Aleks, how you doing?”
“I’ve got plenty of food, come see me. Can’t help you with the sword, though.” Aleks always went into a dungeon with enough food in his pack to feed a small army. You inevitably needed it to heal your health. His brother never brought enough with him.
“Leo, I’ve got an extra sword. You need it?” Harris offered.
“Dude, that’d be awesome. Mine’s about out of juice. I’ll give it back to you after we defeat this thing.”
“Sure. Here, catch.” Harris’s avatar of a stuffed bear threw a sword at his brother’s avatar of the Cookie Monster.
Aleks took advantage of the proximity and threw food at both Harris and Leo, guarded their backs long enough for them to eat something, and then the dragon was on them once again. They dove back into the fray, with all the swearing, laughter, and shouted warnings that entailed.
This was great fun. Aleks would definitely make sure he hung out with Harris more often.
One month ago
Harris
Harris thought to himself, This is exactly why I don’t go out.
Their client, Mr. Benton, ran one of the hottest dance clubs in all of Nashville. He’d hired their company eight months ago to set up cameras, security, the whole ball of wax. It had paid off quite suddenly last week, when they caught a guy robbing him blind and got the police there in time to stop him from taking off with over a hundred thousand dollars. Mr. Benton was so ecstatic and relieved he insisted on inviting them in for a night of fun. All drinks free, dance till you drop.
Of course, everyone in the company was more than happy to take him up on this offer. Harris was probably the only one who would really prefer to go home and play Minecraft instead.
He lurked near the bar and ordered a water bottle. The club was loud, the bass cranked to the point it beat a rhythm in his bones. Talking in here would be impossible unless you were half-shouting, and he wasn’t even near the stage.
Somewhere in the throng of madness were his co-workers. They hadn’t been here more than twenty minutes and were likely well on their way to getting drunk. Connie was up on one of the small, round platforms dancing around a pole. (That could just be her letting loose, though. Surely no one could get that drunk in twenty minutes.) Who knew where the rest of them were.
Would it be impolite to sneak out and go home? Would anyone even notice him missing? Harris was willing to take the chance, honestly. This wasn’t really his idea of a good time.
“Why heeeeello~ What’s your name?”
Harris started and snapped his head around. A man who screamed playboy had appeared at his elbow. He wore one of those mesh shirts that gave no doubt to what was under it, tight black jeans that again left nothing to the imagination, and a smirk on his lips that told the viewer he knew exactly how good he looked.
Only problem? Harris was really bad with his type. He wasn’t tempted. At all. “Sorry, I’m, um…not really…”
Leaning in, the man purred, “Not really what, baby?”
Okay, no. No ‘baby’ from a stranger. Just ick, no. Harris frantically looked around for help. It did not seem to be forthcoming. Resigned, he tried to find a diplomatic way to say no way in hell. “Not really available.”
The stranger’s eyes went hard, not happy with the rejection. “Well, I don’t see you with—”
Two hands came around his waist as a warm body pressed along his back. Normally that touch would have sent him caterwauling for the hills, but he knew that scent. T
hose hands. Aleks had come to the rescue and Harris relaxed into him. Thank god.
“Hey namorado,” Aleks said, loud enough to carry. “Got your water? Good, let’s dance.”
Harris really didn’t want to argue, as it got him away from Strange Creep, so he followed. It wasn’t likely Aleks really wanted to dance, anyway—he was just rescuing him.
At least, he assumed so right up until Aleks snagged his bottle and threw it to Larry to guard, which the man was happy to do, as he was propped up against the wall chatting with a woman. Harris realized in that moment Aleks really did intend to dance, and his mind threw up warnings and blaring sirens.
“I really don’t know how to dance,” Harris protested desperately.
“Which is why you’re going to learn. Come on, it’s fine, it’s not like calculus.”
Harris would much prefer calculus, actually. That seemed far safer for all involved.
Aleks was not taking no for an answer. He pulled him out onto the dance floor, although thankfully off to the side, giving them both room and semi-privacy to learn the basics.
“I’ll teach you Kizomba,” Aleks informed him, taking his hands and moving them into dance position. Harris had to half-read Aleks’s mouth more than he heard the words. His boss was trying to compete with multiple bass speakers, even though they were on the far edge of the dance floor. “They’re playing good music for that tonight. It’s relatively slow, and it’s a sort of samba style. Most of the Latin dances are built off a square—the lead starts out with the left foot moving forward, the person following steps back with the right.”
That instruction was actually quite helpful. Harris focused desperately on the instructions instead of the fact he was within his boss’s arms. Or that Aleks had changed cologne for something spicier, warmer on his skin. It was having a strange effect on Harris. He felt more than a little jittery in his own skin, like he’d vibrate right out of it.
