Page 13 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

DEVON DIDN'T catch so much as a glimpse of Dr. Gerard for the rest of the morning.

Gods . He didn't know how the man did it. Having to face grieving families like that? Having to explain how their loved ones died? It sounded awful .

Devon had to fight to concentrate on what he was doing, too caught up in thoughts of what must be going on just down the hallway.

Eventually, he got sucked into the rhythm of the work, becoming hyper-focused to the point that he almost missed lunch hour.

Thank gods, he had alarms on his phone, reminding him to eat at regular intervals since he couldn't always rely on his body to send the necessary signals to his brain.

He clocked out for lunch and went to sit in the corner while he ate, not wanting to go up to the cafeteria and be surrounded by a bunch of noisy strangers. When he was done, Devon went back to the desk and tried to jump straight back into work.

A knock at the door interrupted him.

Devon hesitated. “Come in,” he called.

The door opened, and Devon caught a glimpse of a doctor's lab coat as someone entered the room.

“Well, I heard you were here, but I had to come see it for myself.”

Devon looked up, recognizing the voice. It was Dr. Graeden Crawford. They'd met briefly last week after the doctor had treated Hayden Ross, right around the time Devon and Hayden had finally discovered their lifelong connection. “Doctor Crawford!”

“How are you?” the man asked with an easy smile.

He adjusted his glasses and approached the desk.

“Bokin told me he hired someone, but I honestly couldn't believe it.

I didn't think anyone was willing to work with Gerard anymore. And when Bokin mentioned your name…” The doctor shook his head. “So how's it going?”

“Pretty well,” Devon admitted. “I like the work. It beats waiting tables.”

Dr. Crawford laughed. “Oh gods, I remember those days. Working my way through med school. I don't miss that one bit.” He looked around. “Gerard treating you alright?”

Devon instantly thought of the scene at the club and felt himself blushing. “Um, yeah.” Oh gods. Come on. Focus. Be professional. “He's actually pretty nice–”

The door to the morgue slammed open.

Devon yelped, his heart lurching at the suddenness of it.

Dr. Gerard stood framed in the doorway. He gave Devon a look of apology, then turned a glare on the other man in the room. “Crawford,” he bit off. “I thought I heard your voice. What the fuck are you doing here?”

Dr. Crawford gave him a patient smile. “I heard Devon was working here and came to see how he was doing.”

“He's fine,” Dr. Gerard snapped. “You can go now.”

“Actually, while I'm here,” Dr. Crawford said, “I wanted to see if I could help you with–”

“You're the last person I'd ever come to for help,” Dr. Gerard ground out. “Now, leave.”

“Gerard, really–”

“And if you're here about the office,” Dr. Gerard went on, “you'll just have to wait. Devon will get to the files when he gets to them. I'm not going to rush him. Now, go.”

“Gerard–”

“I said get. The fuck. Out!”

Dr. Crawford didn't even flinch. “Look, I know I was a bit of a dick in the past, and I've made my apologies for that. But is this really necessary?”

Dr. Gerard stormed over and got right into the other doctor's face, his entire body looking coiled with tension, ready to strike.

Dr. Crawford rolled his eyes and sighed. “Very well.” He took a step back and looked at Devon. “Are you alright being here?”

Devon looked from one man to the other, feeling almost suffocated by the palpable strain in the room. Still, he nodded. For whatever reason, no mater how angry Dr. Gerard looked, Devon wasn't the least bit afraid of the man. “I'm fine.”

“You sure?”

Devon nodded again.

“Alright,” the doctor said, opening the door. “I'm right upstairs if you ever need anything.”

“He doesn't need anything from you,” Dr. Gerard spat.

Dr. Crawford shot the other man a look, then gave Devon a kind smile before walking out the door.

Dr. Gerard clenched his hands into fists, muttering curses under his breath as he stormed back towards the morgue. He started to slam the door, then caught it at the last second and eased it shut instead.

Devon let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

He made a beeline for the washroom, his bladder suddenly screaming at him.

Whether it was from an attack or just a result of the tension in the room, he wasn't sure.

Either way, the relief was immense once he was done.

Devon found himself sitting there for a long moment, holding his head in his hands, even rocking slightly while he took slow, deep breaths.

He washed his hands, avoiding so much as glancing at the mirror, then returned to the office.

There was no sign of Dr. Gerard. Devon pressed his ear to the door into the morgue, straining to listen. All he heard were the faint sounds of pacing. Devon stepped back with a grimace.

Why did Dr. Gerard hate Dr. Crawford so much?

He didn't have time to seek out an answer. Devon went back to the desk and took a few minutes to reorient himself, trying to get his mind back where it had been before that interruption. It was nearly an hour before he got back into the zone, slowly regaining his focus.

Finally, his phone vibrated, alerting him that it was time to go home.

Devon finished the file he was working on, then moved the paper copy to the DONE pile. He couldn't help smiling a little. Despite everything, he'd made good progress. One more day should see the rest of the files digitized and submitted, leaving the desk completely clear.

Gods . He couldn't wait to see that. To have the desk there, the huge, unbroken glass surface unencumbered, in all its shining glory? It would be magnificent.

And—all going well—he could sneak a quick look at Dannika's file before moving on to clearing out Dr. Gerard's old office.

Devon wiped down the desk, clocked out, and headed home.

He winced as he stepped outside, surrounded by rush hour traffic.

Gods . Even though automotive technology had come a long way since the internal combustion engine, cars still didn't run entirely silent.

Between those and all the foot traffic, not to mention voices and laughter and music, it was simply too loud.

It certainly didn't help that he was hungry again.

Just one more thing to add to all the sensory overload.

Ugh . Devon ducked his head and moved as quickly as he could, counting down the streets as he went.

Three more blocks , he told himself. Three more blocks, and you'll be home .

Then it was two more blocks. Then one. Then two doorways.

Then across the lobby and onto the elevator.

Almost there. Just get home. That's all you have to do right now.

Get home first. Then you can think about everything else .

He made it into the apartment, putting his back to the door with a sigh.

“Hey,” Oliver called from the kitchen. He gave Devon a quick study, then said, “Dinner should be ready soon if you want to shower first.”

Devon's stomach growled as though on cue. He let out a sigh. “Thanks, Oli.” Devon left his shoes on the mat and went straight into the washroom.

He tried to shower quickly, but the hot water felt too good on his skin.

It was too loud, striking the shower floor, so Devon covered his ears and closed his eyes.

The lingering tension of the day slowly faded as he stood there.

It didn't leave entirely but it also didn't feel quite so heavy by the time he got out and dried himself off.

Devon went to his room to change into pajamas, then came out to find Oliver carrying plates to the table.

“It was all I could cobble together from what we had,” Oliver said with a grimace, “but–”

Devon waved a hand. “It looks great. Thanks, Oli.”

Oliver flashed him a smile and disappeared behind his computers.

They ate in silence for a few minutes, the only other sound being the occasional striking of keys from Oliver's side of the table. Devon waited until the food eliminated some more of the overload, then reached for his own keyboard and woke up his computers.

He logged into the Gentleman Hackers chatroom first. Once again, it was just the three of them: himself, Oliver, and Grim . Devon sighed. “Nobody's ever online lately.”

A beat passed, then Oliver said, “They are sometimes during the day. While you're at work.”

“Figures,” Devon whispered. He missed the long conversations they used to have. The whole team could spend all day chatting while working on whatever job Grim had given them.

Speaking of which . Devon turned to another monitor and checked on the progress of his work.

He'd started the new job that morning over breakfast, running a few test attacks, then left a decryption program running all day while he'd been out.

Devon spotted a weakness in their target's security, reading lines of code as easily as most people read a menu.

He was just about to start a new attack when Oliver suddenly shot out of his chair.

“I almost forgot!” Oliver gasped. He strode over to the kitchen and snatched up an envelope. “This came for you this afternoon.”

“What is it?” Devon asked with a frown.

“No idea. A courier dropped it off.”

“Weird.” Devon took the envelope and turned it over, checking both sides. It was addressed to him, but there was no indication of the sender. He pried up the flap and pulled out a folded letter.

A slip of paper fell out and landed on the floor. Oliver scooped it up, then gasped. “Holy shit.”

“What?”

Oliver held up the slip. It was a check, made out to Devon, for twenty grand.

Devon blinked. “Twenty–” He choked. “Am I reading that right?”

Oliver nodded, his eyes wide. “Who's it from?”

Devon looked closer, seeing the Rosses' names at the top. He flinched back. “The hells?” he whispered, then looked down at the letter in his hands. He started to read, feeling his heart plummet with every word.

“Dev?” Oliver asked. “Dev, what's wrong?”

Devon thrust the letter into Oliver's hands and slumped back in his chair. He'd entirely forgotten about the Rosses' missed call. But if this was the reason why they'd tried contacting him…

He swallowed hard and blinked rapidly, fighting tears.

A beat of silence passed, then Oliver read aloud, “ 'Devon, it was so nice getting to finally meet you.

We have to get back home, but we didn't want to leave without trying to make up for the life we denied you.

We're sure you've had difficult medical bills and other expenses over the years, so we hope this helps.

Wishing you all the best…' ” Oliver trailed off.

“Are you fucking kidding me? They leave you to grow up all alone in an orphanage and they think money is gonna make up for that? Assholes!”

Devon flinched at Oliver's outburst, then felt a swell of some intense feeling in his chest. He loved that Oliver cared. Pretty much the only person in his life to have ever done so.

He looked at the offending check and shoved it away.