Page 15 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

Andy shuddered, picturing Devon there beside him, the two of them surrounded by live images of themselves, able to watch and be watched from every angle.

They could enjoy the same thing in the bedroom.

That space was outfitted with the same glass, all four walls seamlessly constructed.

Even the ceiling in there had the glass installed.

Andy had spent many a night, lying in bed, looking up at himself as he jerked off.

But he wanted more. He wanted a warm, living body beside his. Somebody to watch and enjoy the sight of themselves fucking no matter where they looked.

Andy pictured Devon's enthralled gaze trying to take it all in.

He came with a shout, staring at his reflection as his cock shot ropes of cum across the shower floor. Andy stood there, catching his breath. His cock slowly went flaccid. Along with it went his mood.

Andy rinsed away his mess, got out of the shower, dried off, and pulled on a pair of briefs. He padded out to the living room and dropped onto the couch. The wallscreen turned on with a simple verbal command, and Andy picked a show at random, knowing he wouldn't actually pay any attention to it.

He sighed and looked around. Gods . What a turn his life had taken.

His old apartment had looked like a home, all cozy and lived-in, but Andy had never had time to appreciate any of it.

When he was home, he was either at Junior's bedside or sitting at the dining table with medical journals and notebooks all around him.

Every waking moment had been about trying to cure Ashworth-Grahams. Nothing else had ever mattered.

Now, he was alone. In a barely furnished apartment.

An empty kitchen, because he'd never learned how to cook and could easily have something delivered for every meal.

Nothing to do but mindlessly distract himself until he could either be back at work or spend time with his son.

He supposed he could fill up a few hours here and there, learning how to cook or going furniture shopping, but why bother?

There was nobody but himself to make comfortable.

What did he really need besides a bed? Even the couch didn't get much use unless Junior was there.

Andy reached over and picked up a game controller. Maybe that would attract the ghost.

He picked one of Junior's favorite games—racing cars, because Junior had never been allowed to learn how to drive—and waited. Andy looked all around. No sign of Junior anywhere.

Andy frowned, concentrating all his thoughts on his son, but still the ghost didn't come.

“Fuck.” Andy tossed the controller aside and started to turn the television show back on.

He paused, listening. Utter silence engulfed him until his ears began to ring. His heart raced in panic.

“Junior?” he whispered, slowly rising to his feet. Oh gods . What if he couldn't see ghosts anymore? He couldn't even contemplate how or why that might be, except he realized he hadn't seen a single ghost all day. “Jun–”

What? an exasperated snap interrupted him.

Andy whirled around and spotted Junior behind the couch. The boy had his arms crossed and an annoyed look on his face, but Andy barely noticed those things, too flooded with relief. Thank gods , he said. Where've you been?

Junior scowled at him. I've been hanging out with Jess. Duh.

Andy frowned. Shit. How's she doing? I haven't seen her back yet.

She's , Junior slowly began, his scowl fading into a grimace, hanging in there. Junior paused. Did you find out how she died?

Yeah. I've been waiting for her to come back so I could tell her. And her mom came to claim her body this morning.

Junior winced. So what was it?

Blood clot in the brain , Andy told him.

Gods , Junior said with a flinch. He looked down at his hands. I guess it was pretty quick, though, huh?

Andy hesitated a beat before he said, Yeah .

Junior frowned, his posture full of tension. Even without actual skin and muscles, Andy could see it just in the way Junior held himself. He was probably thinking the same thing Andy was.

The boy's long, slow decline toward death.

Andy bit back a curse. For most people with Ashworth-Grahams, death was sudden and unexpected.

A simple loss of signal to the heart, and that was it.

Game over. For some, though, it was a steady progression of paralysis, of systems shutting down one after another, of breathing becoming more difficult, of senses slowly fading down to nothing.

A long, agonizing journey, hoping all the while that those signals would get through again and things would turn around, only for it all to continue getting worse until everyone involved started begging for it to finally be over already.

Andy had seen both extremes of death—and everything in between—far too many times throughout his study of the disease.

Which would it be for Devon?

Andy's whole body tensed at the thought.

He barely knew the boy, but it didn't matter.

Andy knew the disease. He knew what it could do to the body, with no hope of a cure.

Not even hope of relief except by chance.

What if Devon had an attack tonight? What if his heart stopped?

What if he became paralyzed and wound up bedridden for whatever days he had left?

Every new question had Andy inwardly cursing. He wasn't a doctor anymore. He'd given up his study for a reason, no longer caring about solving the great mystery when it no longer mattered.

But what if it did matter again? Yes, he barely knew Devon, but what if he simply couldn't live without the stunning boy who'd made him feel more alive than he had in years?

Junior rubbed his arms. I gotta go , he suddenly blurted out, then vanished from sight.

Andy blinked, torn out of his thoughts. Junior? Andy called, looking all around. Junior?

He held his breath, waiting, but the boy didn't return. Silence crept in again. It surrounded him, making his skin crawl.

“Damn it.”

Andy ran to his bedroom, pulled on some clothes, grabbed his keys, and got back into his car.

He wouldn't be able to sleep that night unless he saw that Devon was still alive.