“Keep it up, and I’ll give you your binky again. Lots of guys find it comforting to suck on something. You seem to be one of them. Now, answer my question.”

  Ronnie blinked, and color rose in his fleshy face. “There are devices. Scanners. I was going to place one in the nightstand; I’ve seen where he leaves his wallet. It doesn’t even have to touch the card.”

  “Jesus. And poor Shaw made it so much easier for you. What about his login information? You left his computer powered on—you’re getting sloppy in your old age.”

  “Your boyfriend needs a better password; the Aldrich Acquisitions admin account had strong security, but his personal account leaves something to be desired. He made the mistake of saving the admin login information in his email.”

  “I guess we’re as stupid as you thought we’d be; Shaw was the perfect patsy, and I just stood there in the loading dock, dick in my hand, while you walked right into the lab. Pretending to be servicing some equipment was smart; it got you in close, and then you could use the access card. Smart, smart, smart. And we were so stupid. That’s how most industrial espionage happens, though, right? People who are greedy or stupid, or usually both.”

  Ronnie’s answer was to peel back his lips—a smile, maybe, but mostly a threat.

  “I’ll admit,” North said, “we didn’t know how you were manipulating us. But we’re not totally incompetent. We made some contingency plans, just in case we couldn’t figure out how to catch you with your hand in the cookie jar, so to speak. Have you gotten any offers yet?”

  “Entrapment is almost as ugly as betrayal, North.”

  North’s grin got bigger. “No, I’m not recording you. I’m not interested in a recording. I came here to deliver a message. And that message is, no matter how pissed you are about what happens in the next twenty minutes, stay the fuck away from me and the people I care about. Anything happens to Shaw or my dad or my employees, I will come after you, and they don’t have a hole deep enough where I won’t be able to find you.” He stood and rested the Mossberg on his shoulder again. “Now, let’s see. You were hired to steal a sample of Nonavie’s prize project. That’s all. In fact, I bet you were told not to bother with the computers because the buyer only needed a genetic sample. But I know you, Ronnie. You got greedy. You went for the computers anyway. Was that going to be a separate deal with someone else? Or did you think your buyer would pay extra? Either way, you fucked up. You opened the stolen data last night at 7:17pm, and because you’re an ancient, stupid, human-sized scrotal sack, you didn’t even bother to check it for any little extras. That means the Trojan horse that a couple of the tech gals at Aldrich Acquisitions cooked up went straight to work. And that means that last night, the police got a warrant to search your home and computer for stolen intellectual property, and of course, I just happened to get your address from some of the pings that the spyware sent back. And now here we are, all caught up.”

  Shock was giving way to horror. “You can’t—” Then Ronnie managed to shut himself up.

  “You’re a thug, Ronnie, and a bully, and a blackmailer, and for a long time you’ve managed to run a pretty good game. But you’re small shit, and you messed with the wrong people. And you shouldn’t have gone to my dad’s house; you were threatening me, and I don’t like threats. Anyway, that’s over now. Remember what I said: they can lock you up and throw away the key, but you send anyone after me or mine, and I will end you, no matter where you are. I’m going to let myself out the back.” Through the opening to the dining room, a sliver of the front windows was visible. An unmarked car was pulling into the driveway. A police cruiser idled at the curb. “Hang tight, Uncle Ronnie. Help is on the way.”

  Chapter 36

  SHAW STAYED NEAR THE outer walls of his burned-out Benton Park home. The floorboards were burned through completely in places, and he didn’t trust the remaining ones to hold his weight—he had no way of telling how serious the damage had been. The spring day was hot, the sun scorching the back of his neck. The smell of stale char and smoke filled his nose; occasionally an eddy of air would kick up, breaking the day’s slumber, and he’d get a lungful of hot asphalt, and the police caution tape would snap and flutter. But mostly he breathed in the smell of ashes as he picked through the rubble.

  He’d started a pile near the front of the house: four teaspoons, a Farberware pot, the faceplate and handle from the drawer of a filing cabinet, a rock that he’d found when North had taken him to Lone Elk Park. He gripped an exposed stud to steady himself; the burned wood was greasy under his touch, and when he pulled his hand away, his fingers and palm were black. He scrubbed them on the pink chinos.

  “You’re ruining a perfectly good pair of pants,” North said.

  Shaw glanced over his shoulder and dug up a smile. “When I bought these, the first thing I thought was that you were going to tell me they looked like Pepto Bismol.”

  “They do look like Pepto Bismol.”

  Shaw’s smile felt a little more real. He gave another look at the devastation and shook his head. “What am I doing? Everything is gone; this is a waste of time.”

  “Not everything. You found your rock.”

  This time when Shaw looked over, North was bouncing the rock on his palm.

  “You remember that?” Shaw asked.

  “You told me a ley line used to run through there, and the rock was probably magic, and I said it was doing a pretty good magic trick of looking like an ordinary rock.”

  “And then you said if I wanted to see a real ley line, you had some serious warlock magic in your pants, which I think is offensive to ley lines in general and to warlocks in particular.”

  North burst into laughter, and it sounded so purely happy that Shaw grinned in response. The May sun made North’s hair shine, picking out the golden fuzz along the shell of his ear, erasing lines from his face. For a moment, he could have been seventeen again, the boy Shaw fell in love with over dining hall food and episodes of Supernatural and late-night study sessions when they tried to see how many cupcakes they could cram in their mouths at one time.

  Turning away, North started to cry. It only lasted a moment, a single shake of his shoulders, and then he was still again. He wiped his face.

  Shaw dragged himself through the sagging window frame. He crashed into North, wrapping him in a hug, and to his surprise, North hugged him back. Another of those huge shakes tore through North.

  “North, it’s ok. It’s ok.”

  “No,” he said, the word mangled by pain. “No, things are not ok. Oh my God, how can this hurt so much?”

  Shaw turned his face into North’s chest, the auto parts t-shirt smelling like Tide, and under that, the smell of Irish Spring soap and North’s body. His face was hot for a moment, and for one final moment, he took refuge in the man who had been his hideout from the world for almost nine years. Then he stepped back, blinked his eyes clear, and met North’s gaze.

  “Can I say anything that will make you change your mind? I’m sorry I didn’t tell my parents. I’m sorry I didn’t show you how much I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been selfish in so many ways, when you deserve so much better. Can I do anything? I will do anything. Anything.”

  “Shaw,” North tried again, but his voice broke.

  Rucking up his shirt, Shaw wiped his eyes and clamped down on the sob that was working its way through him. He could do this much for North. He could at least make it easy.

  “North Dingleberry McKinney—”

  “Not my middle name,” North whispered.

  “—get on with it and break up with me.”

  North wiped his face again. “I don’t want to break up with you. I want to be with you. I love you. I’ve loved you since freshman year. But I don’t like where I am in my life. I don’t like how that’s affecting us. I know I threw a lot of blame on you when I found out that you—when I realized your parents didn’t know. I said some pretty awful things, things I didn’t even realize I thought about you, things I didn’t even realize I was collecting like…like weapons to use against you. And I think I was doing that because it was easier to focus on you, and what you were doing, than to think about what was going on inside me. I feel like everything has been that way lately. I’m so focused on one thing that I miss what’s really important. I don’t want it to be that way with us. You’re what’s important. You’re the only thing that’s important.”

  Shaw swallowed against the hard, dry wedge in his throat. “Your breakup speeches need some work.”

  North wiped his face on his shoulder.

  “Do you even know what a breakup speech is supposed to sound like?”

  “I don’t want to break up. But I think I’ve got some stuff I haven’t resolved yet. From Tucker. From my parents, too, if I’m being honest. And even though I don’t want to lose you, I think—I think the last few days have helped me see that I might have jumped into this. I wanted to be with you for so long, and I never had time to get past…things.”

  “That was a little better. Now, this is where you say, ‘I think we should break up.’”

  “Please don’t make me,” North whispered. His jaw trembled.

  “Here, I’ll help. I’m tired of you. You’re boring. You track mud all over the house, and your boots smell funny. You don’t get any of my jokes, and I found that garnet cock ring I gave you in the trash, and you always make me be the little spoon.”

  “You like being the little spoon.”

  “Maybe it’s not a breakup. Maybe it’s like you said earlier. We need some time off, that’s all.”

  “But what if I lose you?” The words were thin and pitchy and struggling.

  Shaw didn’t say anything; he didn’t know what he could say.

  “Right,” North said, and then he cleared his throat and hocked a wad of spit onto the grass and wiped his face. “Sorry. That was a shitty thing to ask.”

  Shading his eyes from the sun, Shaw considered the man in front of him. A minute might have passed, the only sound a breeze picking up, the creak of burned timbers, the traffic on Gravois.

  “What do we do now?” Shaw asked.

  “Maybe we start with what we’re good at.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, shoulders hunching slightly. “Would you—could you—oh for fuck’s sake. Will you still be my friend?”

  The breeze picked up, and ash spun into the air, a river of it washing around Shaw’s ankles, fat flakes drifting between the two men. It might have been the slow dissolve of the universe. Entropy. Disintegration.

  Shaw reached through it, tugged North’s hand from its pocket, and threaded their fingers together.

  “Always.”

  REDIRECTION

  Keep reading for a sneak preview of Redirection, book three of Borealis: Without a Compass.

  Chapter 1

  “DO YOU THINK one of my balls is bigger than the other?” Shaw glanced down at his American-flag hot pants. Cowboy boots and a spangled cropped tank completed the outfit. He inspected himself for several long seconds. He wished he’d brought a ruler.

  Around them, Teddi’s Fourth of July party was in full swing. According to the ubiquitous rainbow banners, the theme was LAND OF THE FREE, HOME OF THE GAY. Rainbow bunting and fairy lights ran riot. The guests were almost exclusively guys, a fresh set of pretty boys that Teddi had just taken out of the plastic. Most of them were shirtless, and some of them wore nothing but patriotic jocks or briefs. Some hardcore groping and making out was happening in dark corners. Miley Cyrus and Lady Gaga played endlessly over the speakers.

  North had worn his Redwings, jeans, and a t-shirt that said First Community Credit Union. He picked at the label on the brown-glass bottle he held and leveled a look at Shaw. “We agreed we were going to do stuff like this.”

  “What?”

  “As friends, Shaw.”

  “Oh my God, what?”

  “If we can’t go to parties as friends, that’s fine, but let’s be honest about it.”

  “North, I asked you one simple question about my balls.”

  “It’s a party. There are hot guys here. We’re just friends now.”

  “And?”

  “And that means, ideally, we’re each other’s wingman, and we help each other get laid tonight. And if we can’t do that, then at the very least we don’t cockblock each other.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  “And the first thing you do is ask me to stare at your junk like you’re trying to pick me up.”

  “Ok, well, first of all, I didn’t want you to stare, I wanted you to measure—wait, North, are you getting a ruler?”

  Before North could make it more than a few steps, though, he must have spotted something because he drew to a stop and muttered. “I need more beer for this shit.”

  “Shaw, darling, it’s so good to see you.” Teddi, their host, swooped in to peck Shaw on the cheek. He wore his usual jacket and slacks and loafers, and his head was gleaming. His only concession to the party was an American flag bow tie. Next to him, his boyfriend, Jack, wore fireworks suspenders and low-rise navy briefs that looked like they provided tremendous lift and support. The suspenders showed off his pecs and abs. The briefs showed off—

  “If you ask nicely,” North said, “maybe he’ll pull down his panties and wave it in your face. You know, so you can get a better look.”

  Shaw’s eyes jerked up. Jack was smiling shyly, and he leaned against Teddi and laced their fingers together.

  “Hello, North,” Teddi said. “Shaw didn’t drive by a convenient dumpster where he could abandon you, I suppose.”

  “Actually, we did drive by three dumpsters,” Shaw said. “I was counting because North said he’d rather dig through garbage with possums all night than have to pretend to—ow!”

  “Whoops,” North said, slapping the spot where he’d pinched Shaw’s hip and then lifting the bottle to his lips.

  “Always a pleasure, North,” Teddi said. He seized Shaw’s arm. “Sweetheart, give me five minutes and then find me in the kitchen. I have so many people I want you to meet. Ciao, ciao, North. Stay as long as you like.”

  With a flutter of his fingers, Teddi disappeared into the grind of sweating, muscled bodies. Jack’s eyes drifted between North and Shaw, and for some reason his shy smile got a little bigger.

  “So,” North said. “Looks like things are working out.”

  “Oh yeah,” Jack said in his soft drawl. “Teddi’s perfect.” His gaze ping-ponged from Shaw to North. “I heard you guys are, um—”

  “Friends,” North said.

  “Good friends,” Shaw put in quickly. “Best friends.”

  North rolled his eyes at that and took another drink.

  “Well,” a blush blossomed across Jack’s bare chest, spreading up his neck and into his cheeks as he shot a glance at North, “Teddi and I, we’ve got an open thing.”

  Shaw looked at North.

  North took another drink.

  “I didn’t know if you knew that,” Jack said, barely audible over the pounding music. The poor kid’s face was on fire.

  North’s eyes raked him up and down.

  “North’s taking some time off from dating,” Shaw shouted. He must have been too loud because Jack flinched and North put a hand over his ear. “He’s figuring some stuff out. You know. Doing a deep dive into his subconscious. Projecting himself into past lives. Working out his issues. Processing things.” North’s gaze still hadn’t shifted away from Jack. “Isn’t that right, North? Aren’t you doing a lot of processing?”

  “So much processing,” North said in a distant voice. He raised the brown glass to his lips again. His eyes were the color of a fresh snowfield, like light breaking on a sheet of ice. When he drank, he lifted his chin enough that his Adam’s apple bobbed, but his eyes never left Jack. Goosebumps chased the blush across Jack’s chest.

  “So, you should probably go try to seduce someone else tonight, Jack,” Shaw said, “I mean, if that’s what you were doing, because it was kind of hard to tell and you weren’t doing a very good job, and maybe next time you should squeeze your nipples and run your tongue around your mouth, you know, so he gets the picture.”

  Jack blinked, and the splotches of color in his face didn’t look like they had anything to do with embarrassment now.

  “Shaw,” North passed the empty to him, pressing it into Shaw’s hand so that Shaw either had to accept it or let it fall, “aren’t you supposed to go find Teddi?”

  “I think that was more of a suggestion or an invitation—”

  “It wasn’t. Go find Teddi.”

  “But—”

  North leaned in, his voice quieter now, barely audible over the droning music. “Go have fun. Pick up a cute guy. Remember: friends, wingman, get laid. That hot bartender has checked you out three times already—go read his future in his scrotal sack or something.”

  “Actually, you really can read the future with—”

  North stepped back. “And just so you know, one of your balls is swinging low, sweet chariot.” North squeezed Jack’s shoulder, steering the younger man into the crowd. Over his shoulder, North glanced back, directing a pointed look. “It might be the big one.”

  Swearing, Shaw ditched the empty on an accent table. He stuffed himself back into the shorts, wincing when the spandex compressed a little too effectively, and waddled off to find Teddi. He told himself not to look. Then he looked. Totally by accident. North had both hands on the younger man’s shoulders and was whispering in his ear as they made their way to the iced beers.

  The crowds and the July heat made the rooms sweltering. By the time Shaw had squeezed between a hundred different bodies and neared the kitchen, he could smell a hundred different colognes that had wiped off on him. Sweat plastered the cropped tank to his back. He caught a brief glimpse of Peter and Paul, college friends who had married each other. They wore matching polos and were lurking in a corner, faces drawn with unhappiness. A guy in a Union Jack thong stumbled into Shaw, the thin material stretched over some prodigious goods and leaving the rest of his smooth brown skin and well-muscled body on excellent display. He smiled at Shaw, turned, mouthing an apology that the music swallowed. Then the crowd closed between them, and the press of bodies bore Shaw into the kitchen.