Chapter 9

Josh jolted awake,covered in a thin sheen of perspiration.

Something's wrong.

It took him a second or two to pinpoint his uneasiness.

Where's Dixon? Why am I having nightmares? What did happen to Tanner? And why are these things rolling around again to haunt me after so many years?

If he were smart, he'd release the information he'd kept for so long and bring the corruption to light. Except that wasn't an option and he knew it. Even if he wasn't speaking to his parents, that threat hadn't gone away. They could still be in danger.

I need this to end, and soon.

He got up and padded into the living room. His nostrils detected the amazing aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and then he spotted a pastry on a plastic-covered plate, accompanied by a pat of butter. Josh smiled to himself. Dixon didn't match Josh's preconceived expectations of a bodyguard in the slightest.

He removed the covering to get at what appeared to be an apple fritter, his mind still on Dixon. What do I know about him, apart from the fact that he's the Chief of Operations for CrossBow, next in the chain of command after Michael? Okay, so he was kind of gruff, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. Josh would have paid good money to see him go after Christopher. The jerk needed to be taken down several notches. What good was it to have money if all you used it for was to bully other people?

Yeah, Dixon was a mystery, but there was something about him that Josh found comforting. He'd asked his pad to store Dixon's extension, and besides Gary and Michael, he'd never done that for anyone else. Then again, no one else had ever rushed out to help Josh get from his car to his lab. But it had been more than once. In a moment of crystal clarity, he recalled Dixon had helped him out many times, and always with that smile on his face.

The one that warmed Josh, as though he was sitting bathed in sunlight.

Damn it. Just how long has Dixon been in my life, doing what he could to help out? And why was Josh only remembering it now? Sometimes he hated his brain. He'd forget something, and suddenly it was there, smacking him in the face once more. But the weirdest thing had to be how damned comfortable he felt in Dixon's bed. Scents of vanilla and citrus clung to the pillowcases, and that had to be from Dixon's shampoo. The thick comforter made him feel warm and snuggly beneath its welcome weight.

But it was more than that—it was Dixon himself, the larger-than-life man who'd strode through hell to find Josh after the explosion. The one who'd lifted concrete off bodies, who'd found several people still alive. Who'd carried him out of the mall, before bringing him back to CrossBow and tucking Josh into bed with an order to rest.

The man who'd sent Christopher away with a bug in his ear. That brought a smile.

Christopher certainly wasn't anything like Dixon. Or maybe it was better to say that Dixon was nothing like Christopher, for which Josh was profoundly grateful. Dixon was a good, solid, decent man.

And why the hell am I still thinking about him?

He shook his head. There would be time enough later to think about Dixon. Right now, he was a man on a mission and he needed to focus. He was grateful Dixon had gone to his lab and brought down a few necessities. He pulled his pad from the charger and set the hourly alarm he used to keep his attention fixed where it needed to be. He suffered a fleeting moment of remorse at the thought of breaking that pesky "no hacking" policy, but he soon squashed it into submission. Considering what he knew about the scope and magnitude of the project, he was determined to find out what was going on and put a stop to it once and for all.

First stepping stone? Cliff Tanner's bank account.

It didn't take him long to find a way in, and he latched onto the payments made to Sprint every month as a good place to start. Getting into Sprint's databases was surprisingly easy. He tracked down Cliff's cellphone usage. He sure had used his phone a lot, and there were dozens of calls most days—until a month ago, when they stopped. No activity whatsoever.

Okay, that's weird.

The other thing Josh noted was the number of calls to one specific number. He did a quick check and found it went to a computer network people used to make calls they didn't want people to know about. That made no sense. Why would he use his phone to call another one? If he was trying to stay hidden, why hadn't he used a VPN instead? They would have a harder time tracking him down, and for someone who was scared, it would make more sense.

Unless….

"Pad, call Dixon."

That decidedly masculine voice responded instantly. "Calling Dixon."

Dixon answered after one ring. "Why are you up, Doc?"

"Bad dreams and thoughts that wouldn't leave me alone. Are you available right now? I want to talk to you about Tanner."

"Sure. Give me a minute, and I'll come back to the room."

"Okay. I'll pour you a cup of coffee."

There was silence for a moment. "I do appreciate that, Doc. See you in a bit."

He disconnected. Josh slipped his pad back onto the charger, then went to the kitchen and got a mug from the cabinet. He poured a cup, set it on the table, then took a seat at the computer again.

When Dixon walked in a few minutes later, Josh noted the dark rings under his eyes, his mussed hair, and the general air of exhaustion that hung about him.

"Where were you?"

"Pulling a double." Dixon's gaze alighted on the mug of coffee, and he grabbed it, practically chugging the scalding liquid. The heartfelt sigh that followed spoke volumes. "Trent has been out sick, and the guy who works second, Grayson, has been covering. He says he needs the money, and Michael said that was fine, but it's been a week now of him doing extra shifts to plug the hole in the schedule."

"Is Trent okay?" Josh brought the older man to mind.

"I spoke with him today, and he isn't sure he'll be coming back. His doctor says he has degenerative disc disease, and although they're treating it, he could be out for months. He offered to resign so we could hire someone for the job. We told him we'd find something for him to do when he got back, if he wanted, but that he shouldn't quit. He'd lose his insurance if he does that."

Not for the first time, Josh reflected on how awesome Gary and Michael were. He'd heard too many times about people being forced out because they were sick, but those two seemed to care more about their workers than profits.

Then Dixon's words registered. If his time was eaten up covering shifts, maybe it would be best for Josh to wait a while before revealing what he'd come up with.

Only, Josh didn't think he could wait.

A wave of cold crawled over his skin at the memory of the little boy's body. Josh couldn't forget the lost expression on his mother's face. He'd done his best to comfort her, but that wasn't much. Josh understood loss and death, but he'd always viewed and experienced both with a clinical detachment. That day, however, was seared into his mind. The devastation, the heartache, the wailing of survivors who'd huddled over the bodies of dead friends and family members….

That day had changed him. Even if what Dixon had said was true and that Josh wasn't responsible for the wanton destruction, he'd still had to watch a mother cradling her son as he took his last wheezing breath.

He glanced at Dixon, and those circles under his eyes seemed darker than ever.

"Why don't you take a nap?" Josh suggested. "I have a few hours of work to do and?—"

Dixon finished his coffee and put the mug down. "I'll have to go back downstairs until seven, so there's no way I can sleep right now." He fixed Josh with a stare. "You called, and that was enough to let me know it's important." Dixon folded his arms. "Talk to me, Doc."

Josh sighed. "I don't know a lot about Cliff Tanner. We only worked together a very brief time, but he was well-liked by the rest of the people." He paused for a moment, trying to frame his thoughts. "The thing is, just like everyone else who was part of the projects, Cliff was a genius. He's responsible for the inception of some of the things we were working on. If there's one thing I can say with absolute certainty, it's that Cliff Tanner wouldn't do anything that would allow others to track him easily, and yet I did just that. I…." He hesitated, unsure what to say that wouldn't make Dixon an accomplice. "I came across some information that leads me to believe he did it on purpose."

Dixon snorted. "And by ‘came across,' you mean you hacked into one or more databases and pulled information from them."

So much for subtlety.

He met Dixon's frank stare. "Yes, that's exactly what I did." He tilted his head to one side. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Dixon bit back a smile. "Just so you know, I'm not Gary or Michael. I believe sometimes the end justifies the means." His expression grew grave. "If Tanner is mixed up with these people, we already know how dangerous they are and what they're willing to do to get what they want." He gave Josh an expectant glance. "What did you find?"

"I've spent a few hours poring over everything I could pull together, and there's a pattern there. Cliff pinged everywhere he went. It's like leaving a trail of digital breadcrumbs. He said he was in trouble. Maybe this was his way of letting someone know in case he ever disappeared."

Dixon shrugged. "That sounds logical. Where did he last ping from?"

"Milwaukee, Wisconsin. That was all I needed to conduct a deeper search. Public records show that six months ago, Cliff purchased an abandoned property just outside the city limits." Josh frowned. "What's odd is that this is the location of the last ping." He steeled himself for the head-butting to come. "I'm going there."

"Uh, no, you're not," Dixon replied in a firm tone. Before Josh could protest, he added, "We'll be going there together."

"Wait—what?" He'd expected more of a battle.

Dixon chuckled. "I'm not stupid, Doc. If I say you can't go, you'll only figure out a way to do it when no one is looking." He smiled. "If this is what it takes to help you find some measure of peace, then that's what we'll do." He narrowed his gaze. "But we includes the four agents who'll accompany us." Josh opened his mouth, but Dixon held his hand up. "That part is non-negotiable."

The man was infuriating, but Josh couldn't argue, not when Dixon was allowing him to do what he believed was needed. "Fine. I'll get onto the airline site and book us some tickets."

Dixon shook his head. "No, we'll take the CrossBow jet. I'm not about to have you on a commercial flight and have it be blown out of the sky." He smirked. "Of course, after you dropped your bomb about the money, I'm kinda surprised you don't have a jet of your own."

Josh squirmed in his seat. "I… I do have one."

Dixon's brow furrowed. "Then why would you want to take a regular flight?"

He shrugged. "I don't like to throw money around. I see how it makes people like Christopher act, and I want nothing to do with that." His stomach churned. "And the truth is… I lost it."

"Lost what?"

He swallowed. "My jet."

Dixon's eyes widened. "How can you lose a jet? I mean, it can't exactly slip down the back of the couch, right? Why not just ask the pilot?"

Josh sighed. "They arranged for us to use a small, private hangar. It was nice, because it meant we wouldn't need to deal with the big airport runways. I was so certain I remembered where it was, but my stupid head, as always, failed me." Tears pricked his eyes. "You don't know what it's like. Forever being the butt of the joke. I know it shouldn't bother me, but it still hurts. It's why I won't ask the pilot where we'd left it. I want to figure it out on my own. To prove to them I'm not an idiot."

"Doc…."

"In the morning, I told him we were taking a commercial flight back. He wasn't my personal pilot, so I was never going to see him again. I know the plane is out there somewhere, and one day I fully expect to remember. Until then, it's my secret, so you don't say anything."

Dixon shook his head. "You are entirely too much, Doc." He put a hand on Josh's arm. "FYI? I was bullied a lot as a kid. I was skinny, gawky as hell. Couldn't throw a ball, which in the South amounts to sacrilege. I had to work extra hard to rise above everyone else's expectations. But after I hit the gym and got big? I realized I hadn't done it for me—I'd done it for them. And you know what? It wasn't worth it. The results were awesome for me, sure, but my reasons for doing it? Not so much." He looked Josh in the eye. "Who gives a fuck what others think? You're Doctor Josh Malone, and they're not. What else do you need?"

Josh studied Dixon's earnest expression. He liked Dixon's way of talking to him. And there lay the main difference between Christopher and Dixon. Christopher was always talking at Josh, mostly down to him. Dixon wasn't anything like that. Josh had never told anyone the whole truth about the plane incident, but he was sure Dixon would understand.

At least he hoped he would.

"Dixon?"

"Yeah?"

Josh found his courage. "I haven't been completely honest with you. My whole life, I was the screwup. Busted for going beyond my reach by the government. Nothing but a way to make money for my parents. I was never just Josh—I was Wheels. I was… I was whatever someone wanted me to be, because it was easier than being who I was." He took a deep breath. "When Grandma died and her lawyer told me I was in charge of everything? I told him to sell it all and donate the money because I knew, deep down, I wasn't worthy of it." Another pause. "Her lawyer, a personal friend of hers, told me Grandma was proud of me. She said no one else in the family deserved it. Then her lawyer reminded me that there are almost no cases of a self-made person. Everyone needs a hand now and then. So I tried. I really and truly did. But that meant making decisions." He snorted. "Why do you think all my lab coats are the same color? Because that way I don't have to make a choice—I just reach in and grab one. In the end, I turned over the business to the lawyer, who said Grandma had told him I'd do it." Josh smiled. "Out of everyone in my family, everyone connected to me in some way, she knew me. Knew what I could and couldn't do." He sighed. "Anyway, the plane was hers. I hadn't even had time to take stock of everything, and then suddenly it was, Hey, you need to go to this symposium and deliver the speech your grandmother intended giving. The reason I didn't want to stay in the hotel was because I'd heard how they talked about me. How disappointed Grandma would be if she knew who or what I was." He scraped his fingers through his hair. "I don't even remember talking at the thing. I just needed to get out, because I was too freaked to be around people. My anxiety was through the roof. The plane not being where I thought it was? That made it a hundred times worse, because that just hammered home all the reasons I wasn't worthy of Grandma's legacy."

"She obviously disagreed." Dixon's voice was soft.

"Yeah, well, shows what she knows. That plane? I had to hire someone to find it. When they did, I didn't want it again. Every time I looked at it, all I saw was my failures. I like to say I don't know where it is, because the truth reminds me how forgetful and stupid I can be."

"Doc, that's a common issue. Go look at my desk. I have a shit-ton of notes every day to remind me what I need to be doing at any given time."

"Why not just set up the schedule on your pad? It's what we have them for."

Dixon's cheeks pinked. "Technology and I aren't the best of buddies. I… I can't figure out how to use some of the features you built into it." He brightened. "And now you know you're not alone in not wanting people to think you're stupid. I would hate for you to look at me that way."

"I could never think of you as stupid," Josh replied, doing his best to smile.

Dixon glanced toward the door. "Okay, I have to get back downstairs. I'll set up the jet for tomorrow morning."

"But you need sleep!"

"I can sleep on the plane."

Josh did some quick calculations. "Milwaukee isn't that far by air. You'd only be able to rest three hours. That's not nearly enough for a decent nap."

Dixon's gaze was kind, and a strange shiver rolled through Josh when Dixon put a hand on his shoulder. "I'll deal. Helping you is my priority. I know you want this done and whoever is behind it brought to justice."

The problem was, Josh was no longer certain who the bad guys were in this whole drama.

Dix's jawpopped as he yawned for the umpteenth time.

Oh to be Grayson's age again.

Dix wasn't a young man anymore, able to be out until all hours, then arrive at work looking fresh. Nowadays, if he was up past ten, he was exhausted the following day. Still, Doc had a good head on his shoulders—despite the whole jet thing—and Dix trusted him. If he said there was something there, then there was something there.

Sleep is for the weak, isn't that what they say?

The rest of his shift felt as though he was slogging through tar, dragging until Grayson showed up at five, looking all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. Dix could have killed him for that alone.

"Good morning, Mr.—"

Dix frowned. "Excuse me?"

Grayson grinned. "Good morning, Dixon. How'd it go overnight?"

Dix shook his head. "I don't even know why we have someone manning the desk late at night. Nothing ever happens."

"It's because of what could happen. Like with the bombing I read about last year. CrossBow is always prepared, so that means we have someone manning the desk all day, every day."

Dix arched his eyebrows. "Ever heard the phrase about teaching your grandmother to suck eggs?" Lord, but he sounded cranky. "Did you get the whole tuition thing taken care of with HR?"

Grayson's cheeks pinked. "Yes. I didn't realize it would be that easy. It takes a huge load off my plate. Maybe now I can actually eat at home once in a while."

Dixon scowled. "What do you do when you're not working?"

A one-shoulder shrug. "See if any of my friends want to feed me, usually."

Dixon pinched the bridge of his nose. "We have benefits. Take advantage of them. If you want a room here, I can make that happen. It'll save you on the rent."

"I think you have somewhere to be. We can talk about it later."

"Are you clocked in?"

"I am," Grayson replied with a smile.

"Then are you good if I go? I have a flight to catch this morning, and?—"

"Don't explain, just go." Grayson's smile was warm. "Thank you so much for giving me last night off. I crashed hard. I don't understand how kids stay up into the early morning like that."

"Kids? I hate to break it to you, but you're a kid."

"I'm twenty-four," he replied. "Way too old to be out all night. You know what they say: youth is wasted on the young."

"And you're way too young to be so old." Dix yawned again. "Okay, thank you for coming in early. We've got feelers out to fill the position until Trent gets the okay to come back. Just so you know, there is a possibility he might not be able to come back, at least, not in this job. We'll have to see."

"I understand. I'm happy to help any way I can."

Grayson was a good kid. If only they could clone him. That brought a grin. Doc was a mad scientist type—maybe he could make it happen. Dix chuckled to himself as he headed for the elevator that would take him back to his room. And Doc.

He opened the door, expecting to find Doc hard at work. Instead, he was stretched over the table, snoring. Dix was glad of that. At least he was awake because he needed to be. He knew how little sleep Doc was getting after that whole explosion thing.

Dix understood death. He'd seen it firsthand. For Doc, this must have rattled his world. And maybe he'd need to talk through the experience with someone who could help. Dix would bring that up later. While Doc slept, Dix went into his room and packed an overnight bag. He wasn't sure how long they'd be in Milwaukee, but he wanted to be prepared.

"When did you get in?" Doc asked from behind him, yawning loudly.

"A few minutes ago. Grayson came in early, so here I am."

Doc glanced at the clock. "We don't leave for three hours, so if you want to take a nap, you can."

God, that sounded damn good. Two hours of sleep would be a blessing. He'd already assembled his team, so all that was left was the drive to the airport. He could sleep for a bit.

"Sure, I think that's a great idea."

It tickled Dix that Doc seemed so happy about that.