Chapter 24

His phone'sincessant ringing was starting to annoy Dix. He hadn't been in the office for more than an hour, and he'd already dealt with six calls, including one each from Michael and Gary to see if Josh was okay.

Except it wasn't the calls that occupied his thoughts—it was the fucking ache in his ass.

Yeah, last night had been amazing, but in the bright light of the day? He smiled. Quit griping. You know you wouldn't trade it for anything. Doc had been responsive, eager—maybe a tad overeager—and had done his best to please Dix. Somehow, he never let Dix think he wasn't in charge. Never before had Dix topped from the bottom.

And never before had his bottom ached from getting topped so thoroughly.

The phone rang again, jerking Dix's thoughts back to where he needed to be. He glanced at the screen and groaned when he saw Chalmers's name. Now? It's too goddamn early in the morning. There isn't enough coffee in this building to get me ready to talk to him.

The fact that he was calling at this hour was not a good thing.

He swiped a finger over the screen and brought the phone to his ear. "What the hell do you want?" Okay, that came out way brusquer than he'd intended.

"Why, Dixon Meeks. And how are you this fine sunny morning?"

Dix bit back a groan. Happy Chalmers was even more annoying than Asshole Chalmers. "What do you want?"

"Oh, you know me. The sun is shining, the birds are singing. I asked myself, what could make this day better? Then I realized. I could touch base with you."

Dix could almost hear the grin in his voice.

"We both know that's bullshit. Now, tell me what you want, or let me get back to work."

Chalmers clucked his tongue. "You're such a cold man, Dixon. I'd go so far as to say you're heartless. Has anyone ever told you that?"

Dix snorted. "Yup. I even have a list of them in my room. I can email them to you later, and you can all swap notes. Now, if you don't have anything important to say?—"

"So, you know that property where you found Tanner's body?"

Dix stilled. Oh God, now what? "Yeah."

"The same property where we found the detective?"

Why the fuck is he asking such stupid questions?"Is there a point to all this?"

"Since we had two deaths there, my guys do a daily check, just so nothing takes us by surprise."

No fucking way."Let me guess. They found a surprise."

"They did indeed. Thirty-two-year-old Robert Vreeland, former Army staff sergeant, dishonorable discharge. Fell off the grid about four years ago."

Dix regretted engaging, but Chalmers was the one in charge right now. "Was his body burned too?" That seemed to be the pattern.

"Nope, just dumped. ME says some sort of toxin was the cause of death, but they haven't identified it yet." There was a pause. "Now, does any of this mean anything to you?"

Toxin? Holy fuck.Dix's skin crawled. He forced himself to sound calm. "Nope, not a thing. Sorry, but I have to go now."

Chalmers chuckled. "Yeah, that doesn't sound at all suspicious." His voice softened. "Look, Dixon, I know you've had a really shitty time dealing with the government, and I can't blame you for being wary. But just so you know? You can trust me."

Right then, Dix didn't trust anyone who wasn't part of CrossBow.

"I've been watching Dr. Malone for years," Chalmers continued. "I've steered him away from trouble on more than one occasion. I like him. Hell, I like you, prickly bitch that you are. I don't want to see anyone else get hurt. Please, give me a chance to prove myself."

While Dix might distrust anyone who worked for the government, there was always the possibility Chalmers was telling the truth.

Besides, having another pair of eyes out there has to be a good thing, right?

"Just think about it, okay?" Chalmers sighed. "I'll let you get back to work. One last thing. Tell the good doctor we'll be seeing him soon."

Then he was gone. Dix stared at his phone a moment, then slipped it into his pocket again. Though he had no proof, he was pretty sure this was a warning to Doc.

Dix stoodseveral feet away from Doc, unable to miss his growing frustration.

I love how his brain works.

It was fascinating to see how he bounced around from one thing to another. This time however, he needed to focus and complete one task before moving on to the next.

Dix cleared his throat. "Doc, we need to get one thing done, then move on."

Doc turned to him, his eyes narrowed. "If this annoys you, how do you think it makes me feel? While you were in your office, I missed, like, two or three alarms. I never miss alarms."

He walked over to Doc. "Then why don't you tell me what you're doing, so I can try to help you?" He kept his voice soothing. "You're not alone in this, remember?"

Doc wrung his hands. "That's the problem. I don't know what I'm trying to find. I have too many dangling threads. I keep trying to pull them together, but it's as if I'm missing the one key thread that will allow me to do that." He stared at Dix. "You want to see what's going on inside my head right now?" He got up and stormed over to a bulletin board and tore away the sheet that covered it.

Dix gawped at the chaotic mess. There were pictures of people with pins in them, and attached to the pins were strings of various colors that connected them to others. Dix had seen things like this on television, but never thought anyone did them in real life.

Doc swept a hand toward the board. "There you have it. The workings of my brain, with nothing cohesive to bind any of this together."

He sounded so dejected that Dix couldn't stand it a moment longer. He pulled Doc into a hug, unable to miss the tremors that shook him.

Tremors that didn't subside, despite Dix's arms around him.

Dix didn't like that one bit.

"One thing," he murmured into Doc's ear. "Just one. Tell me what's first and foremost in your mind."

Doc sighed and let Dix take his weight. "I've been trying to pull up the security tapes from the prison where Porter was killed. I also downloaded the visitor logs, looking to see if we can find anyone there who might fit into our theory of someone being responsible. I think if we can find one person, then we'll be able to link that one to others."

"Okay. Now, what's second most important?"

Josh rankled under the questioning.He was supposed to be so smart, yet here he was being schooled by Dixon.

Then he took a deep breath. He's right to question me. Josh hated not having answers, or even worse, being uncertain where to look for them. And this wasn't a very scientific exercise anyway.

"Doc? What's the second most important part?"

He pulled free of Dixon's embrace and gazed at the board. "To be honest, I don't know. Every time I look at what we've got to work from, the list seems to grow bigger."

Dixon wandered over to the board and scrutinized it. He turned to look at Doc. "But that's good, isn't it?"

Josh blinked. "How do you come to that conclusion?"

Dixon gestured to the board. "All the pieces fit together—we know they do—we just need to figure out how." He folded his arms. "So, let me tell you what I know, and you can add in the parts we don't yet have." Dixon frowned. "We've been played from the beginning. That's a fact. First it was Porter, who either directly attacked us or knew who did. Then Porter ends up killed in prison by a gunshot to the back of the head while handcuffed to a chair. Not quite the suicide they claimed. And finally, we have someone willing to kill to get a shot at you." Dixon stared at him. "Why now? It's been years, so what's the end game? Is it the military or someone else?"

Josh had been asking himself the same question.

Dixon cocked his head to one side. "The footprints you found in the cyberworld, is there any way to trace them?"

Josh shook his head. "I tried, but it was a dead end. As far as I can tell, they're rerouting the information through dozens, maybe hundreds, of other networks."

"And do those networks have anything in common?"

Josh widened his eyes. "I don't know, but that's a brilliant question."

Dixon grinned. "I have my moments. They're few and far between, but I do have them."

Josh finally had a starting point, a direction to take that would hopefully allow him to drag all these threads into one place.

They got into the same files I did. That means they have someone who's my equal—or better.Definitely more skilled, because he'd left his hacking behind to keep himself and Gary out of trouble, and he'd grown rusty.

"I'm not sure how to move forward," Josh admitted. "They obviously have someone working for them who is damn good at what they do." He let out a sigh. "It's been years since I had any serious hacking practice, and that's not something you can let slide. If I go in trying to find any information, it's possible—maybe likely—they'll notice me."

And that target on my back will grow in size.

Dixon nodded. "Then we talk with Gary and Michael, and ask them how they want to proceed." His brow furrowed. "One thing you need to keep in mind, though. Only you can decide if this is worth the added risk." He gave Josh a gentle smile. "No one would think less of you if you wanted to stay safe."

No one except Josh.

He could picture the people who'd been killed by these unknown adversaries. He could see Gary, Michael, and Abbas's faces. He could recall Dixon being so close to the car when it exploded.

Dixon was wrong. If Josh decided to go with this, the risk would involve a lot of other people too.

"I want to go back to my place," Josh said in a firm voice.

Dixon arched his eyebrows. "And you know that's not gonna happen, so it's not even worth discussing."

Josh glared at him. "I'm an adult. I'm entitled to make my own choices."

Dixon's smile only served to ramp up Josh's irritation. "Sorry, Doc. You're a prime target for these people, so it would be a bad idea for you to be on your own. You're a lot safer here than in your apartment." He took Josh's hand. "I know it sucks, and I wish there were other viable options, but there aren't. We—I—need you to stay safe."

"Because if I die on your watch, it reflects badly on you, right?" Josh snapped as he yanked his hand from Dixon's. The anger took him by surprise, and he wondered about its source. Dixon had done nothing to earn Josh's petulance. If anything, he'd been patient to a fault.

This has to be tough on him too, not being able to go out or to do much beyond work and taking care of me.

"Yes, that's it precisely," Dixon snarked, his expression stony. "It couldn't be because I care about you too, right?"

"Did you ever think I have a life I want to get back to?" Josh flung at him.

Stop lying to him. Stop fooling yourself. You've slept better in his bed than you have anywhere else in years. He's actually helping you stay focused, and his insights are moving you in the right direction.

And Dixon didn't deserve Josh's ire.

Dixon crossed his arms over his chest and stared at him. "All right, tell me what you need to get back to. If you can convince me, I'll talk to Gary and Michael, and we'll see what we can do."

"I don't have to convince you of anything," Josh growled. He smacked a hand on the table, then pulled it back, because damn, that hurt. "I'm a grown man and I don't need anyone else to make my decisions for me."

"A grown man?" Dixon baited. "Please. You're acting like a peevish child now who isn't getting his way. Does it suck we're doing this? Hell yes, it sucks donkey balls. Are we doing it to upset you? Of course we're not. And if I'm honest, I'd rather be here with you alive and pissed at me than standing over your grave and wondering where the hell I went wrong." He held out his hand for Josh's, and this time Josh allowed it. "What's going on in your head? Talk to me. Please."

Dixon's pleading expression and that final word undid Josh. He couldn't lie, especially not to the man who risked his life to protect Josh's.

"I'm a scientist," he said at last. "I like experiments that allow me to go from point A to point B all the way to point Z. It's a structured approach, it's linear, but it's also flexible enough that I can toss in a random variable and still get through the whole thing without a problem. But this?" He pointed to Porter's picture first, then in order from Abbas to Michael, to Benny's, then to Hank's, and finally to Gary's. "I'm looking for something that connects these people, so I can dig deeper and find any other dangling threads that might link them too. This is more like a detective would do." Josh bit his lip. "And in case you haven't noticed, I am no detective."

"But you are," Dixon retorted. "Think about it. You sift through evidence every day, looking to improve something or to remake it. The pads, for example. Is this your first design?"

"Well no, but?—"

"And how many times have you redesigned them?"

Josh frowned. "I'd have to check, but when I figure out ways to improve battery life without sacrificing screen resolution or camera pixels, or if I come up with something innovative to add, I make a new version."

Dixon gave a triumphant nod. "That's exactly what you're doing here. Porter is the first pad. He worked, but wasn't as reliable as you wanted, so you tinkered with it, and from that you got your second version. This one was way better than the original, but that didn't stop you from adding new features—like friends—and rebuilding it." He smiled. "You will never stop upgrading your pad, just like you never stop moving forward with your life. There will be bumps in the road, sure, but it's those things that make that life exciting." He pointed to the board. "And maybe strings aren't the best way to go about this, because you see them, tangling and overlapping, and your mind is crushed by the overwhelming mess that is life."

It was true. The string method was indeed a mess. Josh had seen it on The Flash when it first came on, so he tried to use it for his own, but it wasn't him. Not at all.

One can't sort chaos by resorting to more of it.

Dixon squeezed his hand. "Now, do you still want to go home?"

Josh shook his head. "I never did. I'm just afraid, I guess."

"Which I understand completely. You're not a bodyguard. You aren't trained to deal with this kind of work. Yet you were thrown into the deep end without so much as a life preserver." He straightened. "So, how about we do this? I'm pretty good with my fingers, as you well know. How about we make a spreadsheet and you dictate while I input?"

That sounded amazing. The first thought to flit through his mind, however, was that Dixon was very good with his fingers. The tingling in Josh's ass was evidence of that. Then he pushed the distracting sensation from his head. What humbled Josh was that even after his meltdown, Dixon was still there by his side.

I will never take that for granted. Ever.

Dix didn't regret offeringto help, but he was concerned he'd bitten off more than he could chew. Doc went through all the information he'd acquired, and Dix typed as Doc read it off. It was no wonder Doc was freaking out, because he'd pulled together a shit ton of names, dates, and locations. When hunger overcame him, Dix got on with cooking them something simple for dinner—chicken tenders and macaroni and cheese—while Doc followed the chain of the networks, seeing what they had in common.

"Other than them having really bad security, I'm not finding much," Doc called out, his voice tinged with sadness.

"And maybe that's all there is," Dix replied, stirring shredded cheese and milk into the pot of cooked elbow pasta. "Sometimes a dead end is just that. But there are other times when you think it's leading nowhere, but then you take another look and find a new door to go through."

Doc hummed. "You know, when I go in to do an experiment or work on the pad or whatever, I'm confident in the results, because I know the systems pretty well. I never have to worry that if I mess up, someone will rain down hellfire on everyone around me. I'm pretty good with hacking, but there are people out there far superior to me. I'm not sure they won't be able to track me."

That doubtful tone spoke volumes.

Dix turned the stove off and went to where Doc was sitting, staring at the screen. Even if I had a hundred years with this man, I would continually be finding something new about him. He had no idea Doc was so nervous about everything and everyone around him.

He put his hands on Doc's shoulder and kneaded them, his fingertips digging into tense muscles. Doc groaned and let his head fall back so he was staring up at Dix.

"You're amazing, you know that, right?"

Dix grinned. "Because you got to fuck me into a coma last night? Because I'm pretty good at my job? What's got you saying it this time?"

Doc huffed. "We do need to work on your modesty, though. But I'm serious. You are amazing. If it wasn't for you, I doubt I'd be able to focus on this stuff at all. Look at the board. Each string would take me off on a new tangent, and I'd be lost trying to follow them to a logical conclusion. I know I'm pretty smart?—"

"You're a genius." Dix kissed the top of his head. "And don't you ever forget it."

Doc snorted. "Michael said that once too. I had to disabuse him of that thought very quickly. I'm a scatterbrain. You know it, I know it, Michael and Gary know it. I doubt there's anyone in CrossBow who hasn't figured that out by now. But I try, you know? I try so hard to be like everyone else."

"But you're not everyone else. You're Josh Malone. Even if we keep genius out of the equation, you're still a kind, caring, compassionate man. Anyone who has the chance to call you their friend? They've been given an amazing gift. Never forget that, Doc." Dix leaned down and brushed their lips together.

Doc visibly relaxed. "Thank you. I love how you can calm the storm in my head with a few words. No one else has ever been able to do it."

"Maybe because no one else has ever gotten to know you like I have." He brushed his fingers through Doc's hair. "Now, let's eat and then we'll tackle this from a different direction. Shake things up a bit."

Doc nodded. "That sounds like a plan." His stomach rumbled. "And how did you know I'm crazy about macaroni and cheese?"

Because he'd been paying attention to Doc for a while now, and he thought he knew his habits pretty well. What the man was missing—at least as far as Dix was concerned—was a healthy dose of self-confidence.

Of course, when your parents try to pawn you off on some jag bag, that has to sting.

"Because what genius doesn't like macaroni and cheese? I hear it's like a staple food for them."

And the smile that lit Doc's face was worth any price Dix would have to pay.

Unfortunately, he was about to crush that happiness.

"Hey, Doc? We need to talk."