Chapter 20

Dix watched Doc,in awe at his concentration and discipline. Hours ago, he'd started going through the files he had on a drive somewhere, and other than switching off his hourly alarm, he hadn't moved an inch. The muttering was in evidence, as usual, and he seemed to be on autopilot as he sipped from the bottomless mug of coffee Dix provided him. Dix hadn't known Doc was capable of such laser-focus, and it was pretty damn impressive.

It was also oddly hot.

Dix had to fight the urge to slide under the table, drag down Doc's zipper, reach in to pull out his cock, and suck him off. However, he knew what Doc was doing was vitally important—to all of them.

Later. It can wait.

"Another name," Doc murmured.

Dix snapped out of his carnal musings. "What was that?"

"There are too many names." Doc's attention was centered on his pad.

Dix waited, but the comments appeared to have dried up. "Doc?"

Crickets.

"Doc!"

He snapped his head up, his gaze dark and scary. "There are too many goddamn names," he snarled. Doc pushed his chair away from the desk, then scraped his fingers through his hair. "Right now I am kicking myself."

"Why?"

Doc indicated the pad. "I should have gone through all these years ago. Maybe if I hadn't been so scared, I would've been able to see the patterns forming."

Suddenly he had Dix's full attention.

"But you're seeing patterns now?"

Doc nodded. "It's more than just the government, I'm certain of it. And the more I read, the more certain I become."

Dix pulled up a chair and sat beside him. "Tell me what you've found."

"My list has eighty-three names, but what's emerging is a group of people referred to as AS, NL, RV, TN, and EM that seemed to be pulling the threads." Doc moved his chair closer to the desk. "Listen to these: NL thought a test of a higher population center would be best to start with. EM talked her down, stating that something that large would draw too much attention too soon, and they weren't ready to proceed."

"So we know at least one of the group is female."

Another nod. "Then I found this one: TN stated the toxin wasn't fast-acting enough. He worried people could escape and alert authorities to what was happening. RV calmed him with the reminder that they'd chosen very rural towns for just that reason. Even if one of them did get away, they would die before reaching any help." Doc's face tightened. "They played with people's lives and deaths, and for what? All these notes, and I haven't found one mention of the end goal. The only thing I know is they were more than willing to kill to achieve it."

"Stop it!" Dix snapped.

Doc stilled instantly, gazing at him in obvious surprise.

Dix forced himself to speak calmly. "It's been less than twelve hours since you started digging around." He cocked his head. "Unless you always expect to achieve immediate results when you do an experiment?"

The flush on Doc's cheeks was answer enough. "Well, no but?—"

"There are no ‘buts' in this scenario, Doc. You're doing your goddamn best to figure out what's happening, but you're working with fragments of information and expecting to put together a full picture." Dix shook his head. "I don't have a third of your intellect, but even I know science doesn't work like that, and that means you have to know it too. So you're gonna keep doing what you've been doing for the better part of today. Take those fragments, slap them together, and from that, you see if you can build it all into something that makes sense." He patted Doc on the shoulder. "It's not going to be a fast process, and you have to keep that in mind."

"But—"

Dix grabbed Doc by the shoulders and turned him around until they faced each other. He looked Doc in the eye. "Remember when we talked about X factors? You're dealing with the ultimate one here, man. People will always do something so out of the ordinary, you could never have predicted it with unerring accuracy. Now, you've found out some things, and that's amazing. No matter how small you think it is, it's more than we had earlier. And if you're patient, you'll find more, I'm certain. But you've been going at it nonstop. Do you want to take a break? I'll make you something to eat."

He slumped in the chair. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I'm used to everything being quantifiable, and I hate it when there are unanswered questions." Doc waved a hand at the pad. "This here? It's all unanswered questions. Everything I'm dealing with isn't part of my skillset." He sighed. "That's why I work in the lab by myself. I don't dislike people, I just don't…." He frowned.

"You don't get them."

Doc's eyes widened, and he nodded. "Yes, exactly. I mean, I like Gary and Michael, but when it comes down to it, they're a mound of unanswered questions with legs. Like, why did Gary do what he did? There was no logic to it at all. He almost died—he did die—several times. And for what? To keep Michael and Abbas out of the line of fire? Why didn't he talk to me? Or to you? Why charge in there, alone, no backup, and put himself at risk? Didn't he think how people would be affected by it?"

Doc was going the right way to end up with a whopper of a headache.

Dix stroked a hand over his cheek. "I can't tell you for certain why Gary did it. I mean, I kind of get it. We're bodyguards, and putting ourselves in danger is part of the job. But what Gary did? There was no need for it. That's just my opinion, and it's only the gift of hindsight that allows me to say it. You wanna know what I think was uppermost in Gary's mind? The overwhelming fear that he was going to lose Michael." A fear Dix was beginning to understand for the first time.

Then tell him.

He'd gotten this far.

He took a breath. "I know that if something threatened you, I'd do the same thing."

Doc stared at him, so still that Dix could barely register the rise and fall of his chest. "You…. You would?"

"In a heartbeat. You're my responsibility, and I won't ever shirk that." Except that didn't come close to expressing how he really felt.

Doc nibbled his bottom lip. "Oh. Yeah, of course."

Something in his voice rang alarm bells.

"Hey, what's that face for?"

Doc smiled. "Nothing important. As for lunch, do you know how to make a grilled cheese? I've tried on multiple occasions and always end up setting off the smoke detector because I forget about it." He licked his lips. "I haven't had a good one in way too long."

"I'll make one of the best you've ever had," Dix vowed, turning and striding toward the kitchen, determined to make Doc know he was cared for.

Except he was starting to realize cared for didn't scratch the surface of what Dix felt.

Josh watched Dixon walk away,his chest tight.

He's here because I'm his client. Bottom line. That's why he watches out for me.

Josh gave himself a hard mental kick. If all his neurotic displays didn't turn Dixon off, that would be nothing short of a miracle. Hell, Dixon would be on the fast-track to becoming a saint.

I'm overthinking this, aren't I?

He'd told Dixon he wanted to see where this went, but for the first time, he realized that might indicate an expiration date. Because once they discovered who was behind this, there was the possibility they—him and Dixon—would be through. Josh had never been in a relationship before. He'd never had sex before. And now, being with Dixon had opened him up to dream of all the things he hadn't realized he wanted. The weirdest dream? They could get a puppy together. Or a kitty. Michael had once asked Josh if he had pets, and he told him he couldn't, because there was always the probability he'd forget, and then six months later, there'd be an animal skeleton somewhere in his house.

But with Dixon, maybe it was something they could discuss.

You're thinking of a future. That's bold of you.

Josh had never thought of anything beyond getting to his lab. He'd never thought that spending time with a person could be satisfying—and that wasn't even about the sex. Sitting down and talking to Dixon was almost as good. Not quite, but almost.

Still, I should know better than to get attached, right?

Josh was doing his best to cling to this slice of normalcy, where not everything revolved around facts and figures or making new discoveries or… anything else. But he finally understood what Michael and Gary had found in each other, and he wanted that, only with a lot less pain and death involved. Josh could almost see the life that awaited him, just over the horizon, a life that called to him, but with every step he took toward it, that dream life seemed to move away at least two.

It was maddening.

A clink zapped him into the moment, and he glanced down to see what Dixon had brought him. Warmth spread through his chest. On the plate was one of the most amazing-looking grilled cheeses Josh had ever seen. Golden brown to near perfection, cheese oozing out of the side, and on the plate were also several slices of melon.

"This is a thing of beauty," he pronounced.

Dixon chuckled. "It's a grilled cheese, not a work of art."

Josh picked up the sandwich and took a bite. He loved how the cheese flowed into his mouth, almost, but not quite, burning his tongue. He hummed happily, then reluctantly swallowed the deliciousness.

"Art takes many forms. Cooking is just one of them. And I, my good man, am a most appreciative customer."

Dixon snorted. "You're a nut. Eat your sandwich, and then we'll get back to work."

"We?" Josh asked between bites.

"Yeah. I'm going to need you to give me something to do to help you, even if it's just keeping your coffee filled." He put his hands on the table and leaned in. "Lemme help you, Doc."

Josh was used to working alone. Maybe that was the problem. Two sets of eyes would be more likely to catch something one person might overlook. "You know none of this will be pleasant, right?"

Dixon smiled, and cold trickled through Josh. With his easygoing and affable manner, it wasn't difficult to forget Dixon had seen combat. Had killed people. Had already delved into the darkness that Josh was having problems comprehending.

"Consider me warned." Dixon pointed to the plate. "Now finish that."

"Yes, sir." Josh resumed his task, pausing now and then to eat more of his delicious sandwich. Only this time, Dixon sat next to him, his gaze locked on the screen as Josh continued to read and make notes.

He had to admit, that felt good.

Josh swallowed the last mouthful. "The tricky part will be trying to find names to go with all these initials." He went to move the page, but Dixon stopped him.

"Wait. Don't scroll yet."

"Did I miss something?" Josh peered at the screen.

Dixon pointed to one part. AS brought in GDP today. Says he could be useful in the future. Others disagree. "Everyone else has been two initials. Except this GDP. Why?"

Josh rubbed his chin. "Maybe it's something to denote his importance? Like a title or a rank?"

Rank….

Wait one goddamn minute.

Josh jerked his head to gape at Dixon. "GDP. General Dwight Porter?"

Dixon's face flushed. "Motherfuck," he snarled as he reached for his phone. He stabbed the screen twice, then placed it on the table.

"Cross."

"I need you and Michael in my room, now."

Josh had seen Dixon angry, but the muscles cording in his arms made him look as though he wanted to put his fist through someone's face.

"We'll be there in a few minutes." Gary disconnected.

"Can you calm down, please, and tell me what's on your mind?"

Dixon pointed again at the screen. "If you're right, and this is Porter's name, then he was working with them a lot longer than we figured. He said the attack on CrossBow had nothing to do with him, so why is his fucking name on this list?"

Josh knew from experience that any words of comfort he might offer would only sound awkward. Instead, he stood and put his arms around Dixon, pulling him close. They stood like that for several moments, until a knock at the door had them springing apart. Dixon inhaled sharply, then went to the door. He opened it to find Michael standing there.

"Where's Gary?"

"He's a bit slower today than usual," Michael said as he came into the room. "He'll be along in a few minutes."

That didn't seem to help Dixon's mood. "After we're done here, I need to hit the gym," he explained. "There's a punching bag with my name on it."

"What's wrong?" Michael asked. "I've never seen you so angry."

Dixon pushed out a humorless chuckle. "Ever find out something so awful, you wanted to dig up a grave and kill a son of a bitch all over again?"

Michael snorted. "Porter would be top of my list. He got off too goddamn easy. He should have rotted in prison for the rest of his miserable—" He widened his eyes. "Wait. Why are you asking?"

"We were going through the files. There are initials for names, each with two letters—except for one. That was listed as GDP."

Josh could almost hear the click.

Michael's cheeks grew mottled, his mouth a thin line. "That son of a bitch told us he took advantage, but he swore it wasn't him that attacked us."

"So he lied? Wow, big shocker," Josh snipped.

"What if he didn't?" Dixon retorted. "I mean, we know these people were aware of him, and we can only assume he knew about them. What if there's one person running the show, and the rest were under him? Maybe Porter was working for one branch and didn't know about the others?"

"What difference does it make?" Michael's face was an unhealthy shade of red. "He's dead. A little difficult to question him about it, don't you think?"

"Actually…." Josh began, then clammed up. He did not want to do this. It would be like tearing a scab off a wound that had finally started to heal.

Two pairs of eyes met his. "Actually what?" Michael placed his hands on his hips. "Something you want to add?"

There was no way Josh could keep something potentially so big under his hat.

He sighed. "I've seen the autopsy footage. There are cameras all over prisons. Maybe we can find out who killed Porter and trace something back to them?"

Michael's smile was a relief. "If I wasn't afraid Dixon would kick my ass, I'd kiss you."

Josh scowled. "Dixon wouldn't need to kick your ass. I'd do it myself."

Michael opened his mouth, but then hurried across the room at the sound of a soft knock at the door. Gary came in, leaning heavily on his walker.

"Sorry," he rasped. "Needed to take a shot of inhaler. Hard to breathe today."

"We should have come to you," Josh said.

"No, no," Gary chided. "Everything I've got going on might slow me down, but I'm not gonna let it stop me. I just have to accept that sometimes it takes me longer to get from point A to point B." He sat, gazing at them with interest. "Now, what's going on?"

They explained what they knew, and what Josh had suggested. Gary listened in silence. Finally he cleared his throat, then erupted into a harsh coughing fit.

"Fuck," he whined. "I'm getting better, goddammit."

Josh thought Gary was trying to convince himself more than anyone else.

No one spoke, and after a moment Gary was breathing more evenly. He straightened. "I'm tired of dancing to someone else's tune," Gary announced. He pointed a slim finger at Josh. "I'm giving you carte blanche. Do whatever you need to in order to get us something to work from. I'll take responsibility, and if the government doesn't like it, they can lick the sweat off my balls."

"I'm not about to let them do that." Michael smirked. "That's my job."

It was quiet for a moment, and then everyone broke out laughing. Josh was grateful for the tension-breaker. The men assembled needed a bit of fun to hold them over for a while, because now it was time to take this fight to their unknown enemy.

And considering the things they'd done to the people who worked here, God had better take mercy on their souls, because the people of CrossBow wouldn't.