“Leo, wait a second.”

  Leo turned, his heart practically bursting out of his chest to throw itself at King when King presented him with a bag of Goldfish crackers, a warm smile on his face.

  “In case you need a snack.”

  He was so doomed.

  Chapter 3

  King spent the next couple of weeks shadowing Leo and doing reconnaissance. In that time, he’d given Bowers a list of items to get for Leo, including a thirty-two-ounce refillable water bottle, which Leo was expected to drink two of a day, a giant box of Leo’s favorite cheesy Goldfish crackers, multivitamins with extra Vitamin C, a lumbar pillow for his back, tea, and a host of other items meant to make Leo’s time here more bearable.

  Bowers had given King as much information as he was going to, which amounted to fuck all, so King took care of it himself. While Leo tried to get on with it, King got familiar with Leo, their environment, and the people in it. He greeted each and every analyst, soldier, and suit who worked in the bunker, discreetly getting their names, clearance level, and roles. He paid attention to what soldiers were on what shifts, when they changed over, and every move Bowers made. King did what he did best. He carried out his mission undetected, inspecting every corner of the bunker, noting every exit, every movement until he had everyone’s schedule and routine memorized.

  In that time, he also reviewed the bunker’s security footage from the times Leo had disappeared. He’d watched it several times, unable to believe what he was seeing. Leo had been right. Whenever he made it to the exit, there was no one there. Each and every time, something happened to take the guards away from their posts, leaving Leo to walk right out. It was one hell of a coincidence, but King couldn’t see anything out of the ordinary otherwise. It was mystifying.

  Leo had been quiet since the day they’d met, and it was obvious he was trying to avoid King for some reason, but King wouldn’t let him. He was there to look after Leo, so from the moment Leo left his room, King was at his side. The only times he wasn’t with Leo was when Bowers called him in to tell him off for something or other. King quickly figured out that since Bowers couldn’t yell at Leo, King was the next best thing. As if he could do something about Leo not working fast enough. This morning, he’d stood by Leo’s room, same as every morning before then, and waited for Leo so he could accompany him into the command center. Whatever was going on wasn’t good. Leo was growing more jittery by the day, evident by his constant tapping of his fingers against his leg, but no matter how many times King asked him, Leo brushed him off with an “I’m fine.” It bothered King.

  He had never felt so off-balance. It had been years since he’d had a relationship, and even then, he hadn’t felt this… whatever this was. Christ, he couldn’t even put a name to it. His previous partners hadn’t been able to handle his intensity, the commitment to his family and brothers, the job. He’d never had a problem walking away. If someone didn’t want him around, he wasn’t going to waste either of their time. Because of his ability to cut people off at the drop of a hat, he’d been accused of being cold, heartless, but if someone wanted him gone, he was gone. The only people he made exceptions for were those close to him. He’d heard it all before from the men he’d tried to get to know, how he was too unforgiving, too serious, repressed, domineering.

  Granted, King wasn’t the easiest man to get along with, and in a relationship, perhaps he was several of those things he’d been accused of, but only because he hadn’t found the right person to change any of that. His entire life was about control. He ruled with his head, not his heart. His partners were often men vouched for by friends, and although the sex had been good, they’d been incompatible. His ability to read people was a trait he considered invaluable. Where his romantic relationships were concerned, it was somewhat of a hindrance, because from very early on, he could usually tell the new guy wouldn’t work out. Why was he even thinking about his past relationships or lack thereof?

  The answer to that question tripped over his untied shoelaces and would have fallen face-first onto the hard floor if King hadn’t caught him. King steadied Leo, enjoying the pink streak that appeared across his cheeks when he was embarrassed, a pleasant color King was quickly growing fond of.

  “Sorry,” Leo muttered.

  King didn’t think about his actions. Next thing he knew, he was down on one knee, tying Leo’s shoelaces for him with a neat and tidy double knot. He stood, ending up in front of Leo, their bodies mere inches from each other. Leo had to look up, his body all but getting eclipsed by King’s. He wasn’t small, roughly four or five inches shorter than King, but certainly leaner. That tiny mole to the right of his lips kept drawing King’s eye, and he shoved his hands into his pockets, too afraid of what his treacherous body might do if he didn’t.

  “Thank you,” Leo said, taking a step back and walking around King.

  Something was off, but King got the feeling Leo would just turn him down yet again if he asked. Was it something he’d said? As he followed Leo into the command center, he played back their conversations in his head but couldn’t think of an instance where he’d done or said something that would have Leo pulling away from him. Leo had been chatty when they’d first met. What changed?

  Leo headed straight to his workstation, took a seat, and put his headphones on. He closed his eyes, and King left him to it. Someone had moved the conference room chair King had confiscated and placed by Leo’s workstation, and he scanned the room to see if it was close by. No chair, but there were several futons lined up along the walls opposite the servers and across the back of the command center. King headed over to a futon, lifted one end to test its weight—pleasantly surprised the wood was very light. He picked it up and carried it over to Leo’s station. After placing it on the floor, he then pushed it up against the wall, and turned to sit, when he found Leo staring at him, eyes huge.

  Leo moved his headphones off his ears. “Dude, you just picked up a couch and carried it across the room.”

  King cringed. “Shit, was I not supposed to?” Why was Leo staring at him like he’d sprouted a tail or something?

  “What? That’s not—never mind.” Leo spun back to face his desk. “Sure. No sweat. I mean, what can a couch weigh? It’s probably like picking up a poodle.”

  King chuckled. Leo was fascinating, no doubt about it. Removing his tablet from one of the deep pockets in his tac pants, King logged in while Leo got to doing his thing, which included closing his eyes for several minutes. There was a process involved, one that seemed to involve some kind of meditation. King didn’t know much about coding, but he could see Bowers’s concerns. For someone who was supposed to be coding, Leo spent more time staring at the screen than typing, as if Leo were hesitant to work on it at all for some reason, one not entirely connected to his anxiety. King wished there was something he could do to help, but whatever Leo was working on was way above his clearance level. Harold cursed loudly, jumping from his seat, glare aimed at Leo. He took a step forward, and King narrowed his eyes at the guy as he approached. Not being a complete idiot, Harold glanced his way, caught King’s expression and subtle shake of his head.

  Don’t even think about it.

  Seeming to think better of whatever he’d been about to do, he spun on his heels and headed right back to his desk, then dropped into his chair with a grumble. The guy really had a hard-on for Leo. King would have to keep an eye on him. He didn’t like the way Harold watched Leo. After several instances of Harold getting up to refill his water bottle from the water cooler, his gaze always going to Leo, King tucked his tablet into his pocket and stood. When Leo glanced at him, King shook his head, his smile reassuring. He made a drinking motion and headed for the water cooler where Harold quickly averted his gaze.

  King shoved his hands into his pockets and turned away from the command center, his voice quiet. “There a reason you keep staring at him?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Harold muttered.

  “How about this. You so much as think about laying another finger on him, and typing is going to become very difficult for you.”

  Harold turned to sneer at him. “Are you threatening me?”

  King met his gaze and leaned in, his next words coming out low and menacing. “Absolutely. Touch him again, and I will break your fingers.”

  “You… you can’t do that,” Harold murmured, his Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

  “I can, and I will. Very easily. I don’t work for them, Harold, and I don’t follow their orders. Now clean that up. You’ve made a mess all over the floor.”

  Harold dropped his gaze to the floor and water spilling down from his overflowing bottle.

  Leaving a cursing Harold to clean up, King returned to Leo and resumed his seat. He spent the next two hours rereading the bunker’s security protocols and evac plans. In that time, nearly every analyst—except for Harold—interrupted Leo to tell him off for something he’d done. How the hell was Leo supposed to get any work done if they interrupted him every five minutes? And why couldn’t they simply discuss the matter with him rather than go on the defensive, demanding to know why he’d changed, deleted, or rewritten their code? They believed he was doing it because he thought he was better than them. Which he was. That’s why he’d been brought in on this project in the first place. But Leo wasn’t correcting them because he felt he was better. Their coding affected his work. From what King could understand of their tech speak, what they did checked Leo’s work and tested each strand of code, and according to Leo, their coding wasn’t just testing, but letting in hidden code. It was also obvious from the arguments, that a fair number of the analysts were trying to impress people like Bowers and those he worked for.

  All the analysts were young, about Leo’s age or a few years older, but not by much. They were ambitious, and King didn’t hold that against them, but many of them were being blinded by whatever shiny promises Bowers had made. Promises King was certain Bowers wouldn’t come through with. He’d seen it plenty of times before. In the end, they’d receive the usual “I’ll see what I can do” or “I’ll be sure to put in a good word,” and then they’d be sent back to wherever they came from, feeling lost, wondering how they were supposed to go back to their old jobs after having experienced all this. King felt for them. They were made to feel special, but they weren’t. Not enough to keep. In that, lay the problem with Leo. He was special. But no way was King going to let them keep him.

  A man in a gray suit approached, and King shut off his tablet. Now what? For an agency that wanted to get this project done as quickly as possible, there sure were a lot of interruptions.

  “Mr. Kingston. Please come with me.”

  “What’s going on?” Leo asked, removing his headphones.

  “Bowers would like to see you,” the man told King as if Leo hadn’t spoken.

  King pressed his lips together, doing nothing to disguise his displeasure at the man’s complete disregard of Leo. Standing, King turned to Leo and smiled warmly.

  “Don’t worry. I’m sure he just wants to check in. I’ll be back as soon as I’m done.” Or as soon as Bowers was done yelling at him some more.

  Leo didn’t look convinced in the slightest, but he turned back to his desk nonetheless, his body tense. He put his headphones back on and started typing again. Following the suit, King was led to the glassed-in boardroom at the end of the short hall where the barracks were. Inside, Bowers sat at the head of the table, and King congratulated himself on not rolling his eyes. The whole my-dick-is-bigger routine wasn’t lost on him, and quite frankly it was getting old. He’d never been a fan of the game, and he wasn’t about to start playing now. He took the seat Bowers indicated to his right.

  “It’s come to my attention that you’ve been… approaching our analysts.”

  King’s suspicions were correct. It was that kind of meeting. Again. Whenever the urge struck, Bowers dragged King into a “meeting” to remind him who was in charge, in case King had forgotten. Because of Bowers, King had been stuck in this room from morning until just after lunch time. Did the guy have nothing better to do? “If by approaching, you mean threatening, then yes, I’ve been approaching your analysts. Or rather, one analyst in particular.”

  Bowers sat back in his chair and observed King. “I respect you, King. You’re loyal, fiercely protective. It’s how you’re built. Green Beret, Special Forces, warrant officer. Now you command your own little army in the private sector. You boys have done really well for yourselves.”

  “Why, thank you,” King said pleasantly. “That means a lot coming from you. I especially appreciate the condescending tone.”

  Bowers’s expression darkened.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. You thought I was being sincere. My fault entirely. The guys are always telling me I need to work on my delivery.”

  “I don’t like you, Kingston.”

  “That’s okay. You’re not my type.”

  Bowers snorted. “Fucking Green Berets. Always so damned cocky.”

  Better cocky than an asshole. King didn’t have to say the words; he was certain his expression said it for him.

  Bowers leaned in, growling at King. “You stay the hell away from my analysts.”

  “Sure.” King shrugged. “As long as you keep your analysts away from my guy.”

  “Your guy?” Bowers laughed. He jammed a finger against the table for emphasis. “Until he delivers the program, he’s ours. You’re a smart guy, Kingston. You don’t need to watch the news to know we’re in the middle of a cyber war. We’ve got spies on our shores and in our computers. If we’re going to win this, we can’t just even the playing field. We have to own it, and Leo’s our secret weapon. This program has six moving pieces, two of which no coder has ever managed to complete. Until now. We’re positive Leo can do it, but he hasn’t even completed the first piece yet, and he’s been here a month already. We need him to get this done.”

  King stood. “Then tell your analysts to back off and let him do his job.”

  “Where the hell do you think you’re going? I didn’t say this meeting was over.”

  King headed for the door. “If Harold harasses him again, you’re going to be down one analyst.”

  A soldier threw the door open, and King’s heart slammed in his chest. Something had happened to Leo.

  “We have a problem.”

  “What happened?” King asked, already moving past the guy.

  “The kid just fainted.”

  King took off toward the command center, ignoring Bowers’s anger-fueled orders. A group gathered around the couch King had been sitting on earlier.

  “Out of the way,” King barked, marching down the path they cleared for him. Leo lay on the couch, his face pale. Anger flared through King as he took a seat on the edge of the couch beside him. “What the hell happened?” He checked Leo’s pulse. It was slow but steady. His skin was sweaty, but he was breathing.

  One of the suits frowned down at him. “I don’t know. Someone said he went to stand up, looked like he got dizzy, and sat back down. A couple of minutes later, he fainted on his keyboard.”

  King scanned Leo’s workstation. “Has he had any water?”

  Harold shrugged. “How the hell would we know?”

  “Easy, has he moved from his desk?” King snapped.

  Blank stares.

  “Jesus H. Christ. Are you telling me none of you have paid even the slightest bit of attention to him?”

  “We’re not his babysitters,” Harold said with a scoff.

  “You don’t seem to have a problem paying him attention when you’re arguing with him.” King turned to one of the soldiers. “Get me a cool damp cloth, a bottle of water, and a bottle or can of something sugary. Bring it to my room.” Gently, King lifted Leo into his arms. Normally he wouldn’t have moved Leo, but he wanted to get him away from there, from all the people staring at him, judging him. King carried him into his room rather than Leo’s, since an earlier sweep revealed a listening device installed into the base of Leo’s bedside lamp.

  Carefully, he laid Leo on the bed, then placed a couple of extra pillows from the wardrobe under his legs to elevate them and get more blood flowing to his brain. He thanked the soldier who brought him what he’d asked for, then locked the door behind the man. It wouldn’t be long before Bowers barged in demanding answers. He’d talk to the guy after he made sure Leo was okay.

  Taking a seat on the edge of the mattress beside Leo, King placed the cool cloth on Leo’s forehead. He understood now why the General had sent him. Leo wasn’t just in danger from foreign threats. King had seen power struggles before, and he knew there were those who resented General de Loughrey for one reason or another. The man didn’t get to where he was without making enemies, several within his own government, and definitely within this operation. By now, it was likely common knowledge in the intelligence community what the General had done, his attempt to hide his son from them. The government had a long memory, and those in positions of power were often the most petty and vindictive.

  Punishing Leo for his father’s actions was deplorable and doing it because they knew Leo would make an easy target was even more vile. Not anymore. This ended now. King brushed his fingers down Leo’s soft cheek. “Leo. Wake up.” If Leo remained unconscious for much longer, King would call in a medic. No sooner had the thought crossed his mind than Leo’s long lashes fluttered, and he slowly opened his eyes. His brows drew together as he stared at the ceiling.