Chapter 2

Dixon Meeks came downstairsto the front door of CrossBow Protection at 5:58 a.m., just like clockwork.

He'll be here any minute now.

He'd been paying Dr. Josh "Wheels" Malone a lot of attention during the past year, not that Doc was aware of the fact—Dix had taken care to ensure that wasn't the case, especially as his attention wasn't exactly official.

Okay, it wasn't the least bit official, but he was in way too deep to stop now. How he'd gotten ensnared in the enigmatic Dr. Malone's web, Dix had no clue, but entangled he was, with absolutely no idea how to get out.

Stop kidding yourself. You don't want to get out.

He liked Josh Malone. The air of befuddlement that clung constantly to Doc was totally endearing, and cute as fuck. And if there were times when Dix's fantasies about Doc strayed into more carnal territory, that was no one's business but his. For the most part, he kept an eye out for the red-headed genius, and to that end, he'd gotten Doc's routine pretty much nailed, right down to the time he'd show up for work.

Doc was a creature of habit for the most part—habits that appeared scattered to all hell, but there had to be some pattern to them, some strange, quirky method that only Doc understood.

Dix had figured it out, however. Did he understand it? Hell no.

Doc's silver 2024 Honda Prologue came into view, heading for one of the charging stations that dotted the west end of the parking lot, a spot which put him at the farthest point from the entrance. It had taken Dix a whole week to figure out why he continually parked there, but now he got it: Doc wanted to be away from people as much as possible. Not that he was antisocial or anything. He just seemed uncomfortable in groups.

Maybe that has to do with him being one of the smartest people I've ever met.

Avoiding his coworkers was probably part of the reason Doc showed up so early, when most sane people were just cracking open their eyes and dreaming of that first cup of coffee, hoping it would soothe their nerves and keep them from doing unspeakable things to the people who dared attempt to communicate with them before the caffeine kicked in.

Dix understood that better than most. He needed at least three cups in him before he could deal with people. But it still perplexed him why Doc didn't take one of the available rooms at CrossBow to be closer to his lab. He came in early and locked himself away until seven or eight at night—sometimes even forgetting to go home until Dix found him or the cleaner reminded him—so what was the sense in maintaining his own place? Dix loved his room at CrossBow. It was spacious, and it came with plenty of amenities, including housekeeping and laundry service. Best of all, it was part of his package for working for one of the best bodyguard services in the country.

He heard a car door opening and realized it was time to go outside and get ready for his morning rescue, Dix's favorite part of the day.

Doc got out of the car, then opened the back and pulled out a box laden with papers and binders. He closed the door and started his trek to the building.

Any second now.

Sure enough, Doc came to a halt and raised his head heavenward. Though he couldn't see clearly from that distance, Dix was pretty sure the movement was accompanied by an eye roll. Then Doc turned to go back to the car. He did his best to balance the box he held on one knee while simultaneously opening the trunk. Once he'd accomplished that, he grabbed another stack of papers and added them to the top of his ever-growing pile.

Dix shook his head. He's a smart guy. Can't he see how precarious that pile is? Apparently not. He appeared determined to do everything in one trip.

Dix already knew how that would go.

Doc tried four times to shut the trunk without putting the box down, which would have made a lot more sense. Finally, with his stack perched on one knee and one hand on the lid, it thankfully closed. Except Dix knew this wasn't the end of it. He glanced at his watch—a gift from Gary Cross when Dix took the promotion to Chief of Operations after the whole Porter incident—and took note that the calamity was going to be occurring any second?—

"Damn it!"

There we go.

The box in Doc's hand tilted and its contents fluttered to the concrete, surrounding his feet. Thankfully, it was a calm day, or those papers would be well and truly gone.

That was Dix's cue.

"Need help, Doc?" he yelled from the main door.

The poor guy knelt in the parking lot, looking at the mess around him. He seemed so goddamn bewildered and lost.

He glanced up at Dix and shook his head. "No, I'm fine."

Dix knew otherwise. He approached slowly, not wanting to spook the already-flustered Doc. "You know what? I think I'll give you a hand anyway." He crouched and began to gather the papers into a pile. He snuck a peek at Doc, and for a second there, he thought Doc was close to tears.

How frustrating must it be to have a genius-level IQ and fail at something so basic?

"You okay?"

Doc peered up over his glasses, his pale blue eyes large and round. "I said I'm fine," he answered, his tone clipped.

Okay, Dix didn't have a sky-high IQ, but even he knew that wasn't true. Doc might be many things—an inventor, a genius, not to mention cute as a fucking bug—but he couldn't lie to save his life. Dix finished scooping the papers up. He placed them on top of the box, then took it from Doc's hands.

"I've got it." Doc's gaze flitted to his car.

"I'm on my way back inside," Dix told him. "Would be a waste to go empty-handed."

Doc bit his lip. "Are you sure?"

"Absolutely." And don't do that again. Doc's biting-lip thing had the power to reduce Dix to a hot mess. "Do you need to get something else from your car before we go?"

Doc gave his car another glance. "I left my jacket in the back, but it'll be warm today, so I should be fine."

Dix wasn't about to let Doc take any chances with his health. "It might rain this afternoon. Best to have it if you need it." Besides, he didn't want to picture Doc drenched from the rain. Now, if it were Fantasy Doc, still wet from a shower after he and Dix had spent a torrid night together?

Hell yes.

He did his best to banish those thoughts. Doc was brilliant, rich—at least that was the word around CrossBow—and what use would a guy like that have for a former military grunt?

The web that Dix was already snared up in got a little tighter, only this time he was certain of one thing.

Getting out was not an option.

Doc grabbed his coat from the car, then led the way to the building. He keyed in his code and opened the door, holding it for Dix. He gestured to the box.

"I can take that."

Dix shook his head. "You could, but I have it all balanced, so it would probably be a lot better if I held on to it for now. I'll go up with you to the lab and put the stuff on your table."

"Okay. Thank you." He smiled. "What was your name?"

Dix bit back a sigh. Oh, Doc. Here we go again.

"Dixon Meeks. I'm the Director of Operations, remember? After that whole thing with Porter when Mr. Cross got… hurt, he promoted me so I could help out Mr. Kennedy if necessary."

Hurtdidn't even come close to what had happened to Gary Cross.

Dix's stomach lurched at the memory of that airstrip where they'd tortured him. A kneecap blown off, a broken arm, broken fingers, a beating so bad that he lost six teeth and a percentage of vision in one of his eyes….

While Dix appreciated his strength, he wasn't sure he could have survived what Gary had.

"Oh, yes. I'm sorry."

"It's no problem." Dix smiled internally. How many times had he said this?

They got to Doc's floor and the door slid open. Inside the lab, the air conditioning was on high, which caused Dix's skin to pebble. "Where would you like this?" he asked, knowing what the answer would be before Doc opened his mouth. It was always the same response.

"Oh, on the table, please."

Dix put the box where Josh indicated, then looked up to find the guy already staring at his pad. Looks as if I'm forgotten already. Ah, well. He was used to it. Not that he was complaining. He'd gotten his chance to see Doc, hadn't he?

That made Dix's day.

"See you later, Doc," he called, then winced as the endearment slipped out. Again. Shit.

"Hm? Oh. Right. I'm sorry. I was checking my reminders. Thank you for your help… uh…."

"Dixon." He never liked leaving Doc to flounder.

"Sorry." Doc flushed. "I'm bad with names. I appreciate what you did for me." He paused, his brow furrowed. "Did you just call me Doc?"

Fuck, he noticed."Yeah, sorry."

The furrows deepened. "Josh is good. You could call me that." Then he grimaced. "Actually, it's way better than what my ex, Christopher, used to call me." Doc gave a shudder. "I loathed being called Joshy. Yeah, Doc is okay."

Dix could stick with Josh. He probably should. But everyone else called him Josh, Wheels, or Doctor Malone. For some insane reason, Dix wanted a name he could call Doc that was his alone. It made him feel closer to the man he was enamored with.

Not that he could tell Doc any of that.

"Would you mind… I mean, if it's okay with you…."

Well, fuck. Dix didn't get tongue-tied. Ever. So why the hell did he suddenly find himself unable to form words?

Doc arched his eyebrows. "Go on."

He'd gotten this far. "Would you mind if I called you Doc? I just… I like the word for you."

Doc nudged his glasses down his nose a little. "I think Doctor is pretentious, but Doc? That isn't so bad." He smiled. "Sure, you can call me that." He picked up a folder from the pile on his desk, then turned toward the coffeemaker. That frown was back. "When did I start the coffee?"

He hadn't. Dix knew how much Doc needed that initial jolt to get his brain firing on all cylinders, so he came up as soon as he arrived in the morning and brewed a pot. He couldn't believe how much he enjoyed doing little things for Doc. How his stomach fluttered when that rare smile graced that sweet face.

Yeah, fine. Big, bad Dixon Meeks had the hots for Doc.

Sometimes he'd work nights, and on countless occasions, he'd found Doc in his lab, having forgotten he was supposed to go home. The poor guy always seemed so exhausted, to the point where Dix thought he was going to pass out. He'd made the suggestion more than once that Doc should sleep on the sofa. Usually that worked, but there had been times when Doc insisted he was fine and drove himself home. Dix might have clocked out and followed him to ensure he made it inside safely, before returning to finish his shift.

When Gary had found out what Dix was doing, he thanked him, then told him to stay punched in, just in case he had to deal with anything along the way. Gary worried about Doc, just like Dix did. At first he thought it might be because Doc was CrossBow's golden goose, considering the amount of money and equipment he gave to the place, but the more times he observed the two men together, he realized Gary actually cared for the mad scientist.

After the whole thing with Porter, Michael had made the executive decision that if Doc was at work past eight, he needed an escort home. Gary informed him that Dix had been doing just that since before Michael started. That earned him a bright smile and heartfelt thanks.

Much as he enjoyed Josh's company, he was there to do a job.

"Okay, lemme get to work," Dix muttered. "Have a great day… Doc."

Doc glanced up from the document he was studying. "Hm? Oh, you too."

Dix headed for the door, a little saddened by the fact that?—

"By the way, Dixon?"

Wow. He actually remembered my name without me reminding him.

"Yes?"

And there was that smile, a bright, full-wattage one that sent a shiver coursing through Dix. He'd do all manner of immoral or illegal things to ensure Doc never gave that smile to anyone else.

Doc's eyes were bright. "Thank you for your help. I really do appreciate it."

And just like a puppy with a bit of praise from his owner, Dixon knew he'd be tripping over Cloud Nine all goddamn day.

And probably fucking enjoy every minute.

It wasn't until Dix walked away that Doc's words of a moment ago truly sank in.

Wait—he has an ex?

Doc is gay?

Doc must have really scrambled Dix's circuits if he'd missed that part. He was kinda relieved. Nothing worse than having lustful thoughts for a straight man. Only now he was thinking about Doc in some other guy's arms.

Nope. Not gonna go there.

Dix didn't know anything about the guy, but was it wrong to hate him? Just a little?

Anyone who'd let Doc walk away needs their head examined.