Chapter 17

Josh wasgrateful to have Dixon at his side as they headed to the meeting room where Michael and Gary were waiting, but that didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach or get rid of the rock in his throat.

Now I know how someone feels when they're on their way to an encounter with the electric chair.

He knew why he was stressing about this. As soon as he told them what he knew, their lives would be in danger too.

No. This is a really bad idea in the history of bad ideas.

Josh came to a halt, and Dixon reacted instantly. "Doc? What's wrong?"

He sighed. "I don't think I can do this."

Dixon studied his face for a second or two. "Okay, what's going on?"

How can I explain the anxiety that continues to ratchet up inside me?

Gary and Michael had already lost so much, with Gary nearly losing his life, and this would put him right back in the crosshairs. Michael too. Dixon too. They have so much to lose.

Josh didn't have a whole lot in his life. He never had. There was his lab, of course, but sadly, that was pretty much it. He worked from the moment he woke up to the minute he got home. Even after that, his mind was awash in thoughts and ideas, and that made sleep difficult.

Yet you slept in Dixon's bed.

In fact, you did a lot more than sleep.

Except what they'd shared was so much more than sex. Lying beside Dixon, feeling his warmth, those strong arms around Josh…. It was as if he'd been given permission to let go of all the thoughts that normally plagued him at night.

I've known him for such a relatively short time. Long enough to know I want this.

Nothing he did was good enough for his parents, and the only way he'd be complete in their eyes was if he gave up his life and became Christopher's… whatever. Yes, he had accolades and patents and money, and not one of those things meant a damn thing to Josh. Accolades don't keep you warm at night.

Dixon did.

Patents didn't calm his racing brain.

Dixon did.

They didn't drill him into the mattress either.

Warmth became heat as he recalled Dixon doing exactly that, not once but twice.

Then he realized Dixon expected a response, and he struggled to encapsulate the mess of emotions and thoughts in his head in coherent sentences.

"Telling them opens up a can of worms I can never close again. Once I say the words, Gary, Michael, and you will have targets on your back."

Dixon gave a soft smile and put a hand on Josh's arm.

It was amazing how that simple touch soothed his nerves.

"What you fail to realize is that in our business, there will always be a target on us." Dixon shrugged. "It's the life we chose, and there's no getting around that. Gary and me? We were in the military, so we're used to it. Michael stood next to Gary, even when he had a chance to get out. And the three of us?" He moved closer. "We will never ever abandon our friend. You got that?"

"Yes," Josh whispered, his chest tight. "Thanks."

Dixon quirked an eyebrow. "For what?"

"Standing up for me?" He chuckled. "I just know I'm feeling thankful."

Dixon jerked his head to the right, then the left. There were people wandering the hallway, many talking, some reading reports, others with a book in their hand. Then Josh found himself being propelled backward into a?—

He blinked as Dixon switched on the light and closed the door.

"What are we doing in a supply closet?" Then his heartbeat raced as Dixon closed the gap between them.

"Can I ask you something?"

Josh could smell the mixture of scents he'd come to associate with Dixon, a comforting smell that reminded him of Dixon's bed. "Sure. Anything you want." Maybe he'd draw the line at fucking in a closet.

Then again….

"This is going to be a personal question, so you don't have to answer it, okay?"

Oh God.Josh nodded.

Dixon speared him with an intense gaze. "Has anyone in your life ever been at least halfway decent to you?"

That wasn't a difficult question to answer. "My grandma."

"Besides her?"

Okay, that wasn't so easy.

"My parents weren't awful. I mean, they didn't kick me out when I told them I was gay. After the whole hacking thing, I think they couldn't decide what to do with me anymore. I mean, what I did wasn't violent, but it did cast them in a bad light. I think that was what hurt them the most." Josh swallowed. "Their son was a criminal. It wasn't the kind of news they'd want to share proudly with their friends, right? ‘Yeah, Josh stole a hundred thousand from Warren Buffett and sent it to an animal shelter.'" Dixon squeezed his shoulder, and Josh welcomed the connection. "They were ashamed of me, I think. Maybe that's why they wanted me to be with Christopher. It would give me—but more importantly, them—an air of respectability. As my parents, they'd be invited to lavish parties at Christopher's, and that would give them a doorway into other society events. Okay, so they didn't have money, but there are more ways to get a foot in the door, isn't that what they say?" The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth. "After that, I never knew if someone liked me for me, or if there was an ulterior motive behind it." He smiled. "At least that's how I felt until I met you."

Dixon's face lit up, but then he grew serious. "Let me tell you something. If we move forward with our relationship—and before you ask, yes, I'd like to—I will sign any kind of agreement you put in front of me that says I want nothing from you."

It took a moment for his words to sink in.

Josh gaped at him. "What? Why? Take it. I don't care. You've seen my place. My lawyer—well, Grandma's—told me I could get any house I wanted, so why did I want to continue living in what had been her apartment?" He gazed earnestly at Dixon. "It's a reminder, I guess. I've seen what money can do to people—how it changes them—and I don't want to change who I am. I like myself… mostly." That earned him a chuckle. "Plus, Grandma lived the same way. She was frugal when it came to most things. She'd use a teabag twice to save money. She never ran the air-conditioning unless I was there. In the winter, she kept the heat to sixty-two degrees. She clipped coupons, for goodness' sake. She also instructed her lawyer to donate wads of money. What she left me? That was only a fraction of what she had. The rest she donated." Josh locked gazes with Dixon. "That's who I want to be. Who I need to be."

Dixon's eyes shone. "You are a spectacular person, Doc. Never, ever let anyone tell you otherwise."

Josh's brain was still doing catch-up. "So we are moving forward with this? Us, I mean."

The lingering kiss that followed was all the answer Josh required to ease some of the tumult inside his head.

Dixon's phone buzzed, and he removed it from his pocket. He chuckled. "It's from Michael. Did you get lost?" He smiled. "I think we're wanted."

"Can we run away?" Josh asked, only half-joking.

Dixon ran a thumb over Josh's cheek. "If that's what it takes, then yes, we can do that."

Oh dear Lord, he was serious.

I never believed there'd be someone who'd give everything up to be with me.

Except Josh knew he wasn't about to run away.

"No. No, we need to get this over with. Just…. Please, don't go anywhere."

Dixon snorted. "No such luck. You're stuck with me."

Josh was okay with that.

"So now I guess it's time to come out of the closet?" he quipped.

Dixon laughed.

As they stepped into the meeting room, Josh noted the ice water and pastries on the table, plus the pots of coffee off to the side.

Apparently they think this is going to take a while.His stomach clenched. And they'd be right. Not that he could eat a bite right then.

Gary and Michael were already seated at the table. Josh joined them and Dixon took the chair beside him, their knees touching. Josh flashed him a grateful glance.

Michael cleared his throat. "Okay, I think we know why we're here, so we can dispense with the niceties. You asked for a week, Josh, and we gave you that. So now it's time to tell us everything." Before Josh could say anything, Michael plowed ahead. "We know this isn't going to be easy for you, but you need to understand something. Keeping secrets like this makes it harder for us to protect you."

All Josh's arguments for not sharing his knowledge collapsed like a house of cards at those words.

There was nothing to do but tell the truth.

He leaned forward, his hands clasped on the table.

Just as he was about to speak, Dixon cleared his throat. "One sec, Doc." He turned to Gary and Michael. "What he has to say makes him worried. He feels that if he shares this, it puts the same target on our backs he has on his. He's afraid of how this will affect you."

Michael clasped hands with Gary, who gave a slight nod. "We talked about this last night. We know it's bad, but this is CrossBow, and we never walk away from a client. Or friend. Whatever happens, we'll deal with it together."

Josh could have sagged in relief at those words. He took a deep, bracing breath and launched into his confession.

"You already know what I did that got me hooked up with the government."

All three men said yes.

Josh took a deep breath. "I'll be honest with you. When they tapped me for the job, I was excited. I mean, doing what I loved and making money from it? I could give my parents a better life. Hell, I could even win my way back into their hearts. And for the first year, everything was great. The guys I worked with taught me a lot about hacking. As good as I thought I was, they were infinitely better. In fact, they were the ones who caught me."

Dixon stood, and Josh knew he was grabbing them coffee. He waited until Dixon rejoined him before continuing.

"I didn't mind so much being caught, because what they showed me ensured I had several extra layers of protection moving forward. And then? The brass put us in different rooms and gave each of us a small part of a project. We'd never worked separately before, but it wasn't all that weird. My job was to do something I'd never done before—to find out if I could hack a missile guidance system." He chuckled. "That was heady as hell. And it wasn't easy, let me tell you. I worked my ass off, trying different methods to get in. It was a challenge."

"You just did it? Without asking why?" Gary asked.

Josh gave a sigh. "That was my mistake. I should have asked more questions. I should have done something. And then everything changed."

"What happened?" Michael leaned forward.

"One night after I'd finished my work, I went to the cafeteria with the others. One of them—Luke Benning, I think—mentioned they had him doing calculations for the best spot for an explosion to spread contaminants through the atmosphere."

Gary wheezed, "Contaminants?"

Josh nodded. "We were never supposed to talk about what we were doing, not with anyone,and especially each other. But Luke had gotten the ball rolling. The other guys thought it was cool, and they started whispering about their parts too. Pretty soon my brain was assembling all those bits of information in my head. Two days later, I finished early and went traipsing through their computers. The firewall stymied me, but I took that as another challenge. It wasn't long before I found my way through it and into the repository where all parts of the project were being kept."

Then he realized how quiet the room had become.

Josh glanced around the table. All three men leaned in, as if they were hanging on his every word. He felt as though he was on display, and squirmed under their scrutiny.

A hand gripped his knee, and Josh blew out a breath. Dixon was there. Dixon had him.

"One of the projects I found had the codename of Achlys. If you don't know what that means, she was one of the first-born immortals, the protogenoi of Misery and Poison."

Dixon held a hand up. "Okay, you just lost me. Protogenoi?"

"They were the eldest of the Greek deities and were usually personifications of certain aspects of the universe. Achlys is also the keeper of the death mist and resides in Tartarus. And before you ask," he said to Dixon, "in Greek mythology, Tartarus is the deep abyss that is used as a dungeon of torment and suffering for the wicked and as the prison for the Titans." He smiled. "Think hell."

Gary managed a chuckle. "I learn something new every day around you."

"So what was the aim of this project?" Michael asked.

It took Josh a moment to finally utter the words.

"They were working on a toxin that would kill anyone who comes into contact with a surface contaminated with it."

"That's horrific," Dixon said with a gasp.

"I think horrific is an understatement, but what made it worse? They wanted to create an airborne pathogen. To be specific, they wanted to create versions that could be used on food, on water, in the air. Anything we eat, breathe, or touch could be affected. This would be a death no one could get away from. Something that could be sprayed from an airplane or launched in a missile and spread over hundreds of miles when it impacts with the earth. A weapon to be used to decimate the population of cities. Not the buildings, mind you. It was meant to kill the people, leaving everything else intact."

The room had fallen silent again, not that Josh was surprised.

He nodded. "That way, they could move into a ready-made city, to populate it however they wanted. I was horrified by the implications, especially when I found out they'd already been running limited tests." He stared at their ashen faces. "Have any of you heard about Kingsman, Georgia?"

There were no words, only shaking heads.

"It wasn't a big place, only one hundred fifty or so people. The reports I read said that what happened was an accident, that the blast was meant to be contained to Vashlovani National Park. Kingsman was never the target, not that it mattered in the end. Every single man, woman, child, and animal in that town died, and the government covered it up."

"How?" Michael demanded. "How could they possibly explain it?"

"They said it was a poisoned well and made noises about how it was such a horrible tragedy. Which it was, but one they caused. To cover their tracks, they demolished the town, but that didn't mean they gave up on the project. Yes, things had gone completely off the rails there, but then they came up with a plan. They decided to have us—the basement-dwellers—solve the problem for them."

"That's monstrous," Michael gasped.

Josh gave a slow nod. "Yes, it is. And when I found out what we were being asked to do, I freaked. I couldn't sit back and let this happen. So I made a decision. I offloaded every file I could find to a private server I kept, plus I backed it up to a thumb drive I carried with me. When we left for the day, I went home and locked the door, trying to figure out what to do." He'd spent that night waiting for them to break down the door. Again. "I knew I couldn't go back there. Not if they were using us to hurt—kill—people. So I made a few phone calls to our handlers."

"What did you tell them?" Dixon asked.

"I told them I knew what we were doing. Then I mentioned Kingsman and told them I had copies of all the relevant data. I said that I was out, and that if they came after me or my family, I would release it all to every news agency on the planet."

Michael let out a low whistle. "Now I understand why they might want you out of the picture."

Another nod. "I told them I was sure Russia and China would take a rather dim view of this. I insisted they shut the project down. What I really wanted was for them to admit what had actually happened in Kingsman, but that wasn't even up for negotiation. I wasn't happy about that, but I had to take what I could get. They cut me loose, but kept a close watch on me." He looked at Gary. "Do you remember the story about the toaster incident?"

"Yeah," he rasped.

"That really happened. It wasn't anything bad. I just forgot I had bread in it. Then it got stuck, so I tried using a wrench because it was the closest thing at hand. Bad mistake. There were never any flames, but there was quite a bit of smoke. Which, of course, my tails saw. That was why there was a helicopter there, and men in black suits. I've been under scrutiny my entire adult life, because of what I know. When I got Tanner's mail, my first thought was they'd restarted the project. I tried contacting the handlers. They weren't taking my calls." He paused. "I tried to look into it, but couldn't find any trace of them."

"We need to talk to someone," Michael said. "We can't let this happen."

"And who would you suggest we speak to?" Dixon countered. "If this is the government, do you think they're simply going to say, ‘oh yeah, our bad,' and shut it down again? Doubtful."

"He's not wrong, Michael," Gary added. "Look at what happened with Porter. The government has no problem lying if it suits their interests. Doesn't matter which political party is in charge, they all have things they don't want people to know."

Michael's eyes blazed. "What if we?—?"

"No," Josh said adamantly. "If they find out we're looking into it, they'll come after us, guns blazing. They'll also go after our families or anyone else they think will get us out of the way. This is why I didn't want to tell you."

"Then what do you suggest?" Michael demanded. "That we look the other way?"

Josh went quiet for a moment, forcing himself to breathe evenly. "I can't tell you the nightmares I've had about this. What happened at the mall? What I saw? That's going to haunt me, but I'm a pragmatist. I know that no matter what else, it involved a handful of people. But Project Achlys? They planned to release it on a widespread scale, killing maybe thousands of men, women, and children. And if I'm right, they're still intent on using it. Well… someone is." His heart pounded.

"Then we have to know for sure," Michael said in a firm voice.

Dixon coughed. "Doc is going to hack the information." His hand squeezed Josh's knee.

Michael looked to Gary. "Are we going to be okay with this? I've seen the agreement, and?—"

"And they broke it very egregiously," Gary retorted. He locked gazes with Josh. "Do what you have to do."

Now came the part he dreaded the most. "I've already been hacking," he said in a low voice.

Gary rolled his eyes. "Well, duh." He narrowed his gaze. "You've been at it since this whole Porter thing, right?"

Warmth flooded through Josh. He really does know me so well.

He nodded. "I paid one of the cops to procure some of the evidence for me. It was something he secreted away, so it wasn't like I was asking him to steal for me. I've been looking it over since I got it."

Michael crossed his arms. "Tell me you found something, after running so many risks."

"The missiles they used to attack us? They were government-issued. No big surprise there, since Porter was a general, but when I tracked the numbers back in the chain, care to guess where it led to?"

"I'm not sure I want to," Gary murmured.

"They were the same model and serial number as the one that dropped the payload on Kingsman. Now, it could have been a coincidence, but I'm not really keen on that word. I think this whole thing has been one big conspiracy, and that I'm at the center of it now."

They stared at him in shocked silence. Then Michael frowned. "Wait a minute. Something you just said…. About how someone might still intend using it. You weren't talking about the government, were you?"

Yeah, Michael was no slouch when it came to brains.

"I started digging into the databases. Yes, the project was scrapped, and the files are marked Top Secret." He paused, unable to repress a shiver.

"What else did you find?" Gary asked.

He took another calming breath. "I discovered a digital footprint. Someone else had been there." He gazed at them, his heart sinking. "And they may have stolen the files too."

Dixon's phone buzzed, and he scowled. "I asked for no calls to be—" He stared at the screen. "It's Special Agent Chalmers." He put the phone to his ear. "Agent—" Dixon froze, listening intently, and Josh's heart went into overdrive. He watched Dixon's expression become more grave, and Gary's breathing grew more labored.

At last Dixon finished the call and pocketed his phone.

"What's happened?" Josh could barely keep still on his chair.

For a moment Dixon said nothing, but stared at the table. Then he met Josh's gaze. "You remember Detective Reginald Marsh, in Racine?"

Josh nodded, fear spiking through him, almost a premonition of what Dixon was about to share.

"He's dead. And it wasn't natural causes."