Page 29 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

DEVON GAVE a start when he saw something flash on his screen.

He'd been sitting at the dining table all afternoon and evening, halfheartedly pretending to work on the latest job for Grim . Mostly, he'd just been staring at the screen, thinking of Andy. Thinking of all the people around him who were flourishing. Thinking of all the things he'd never get to do.

Devon shook his head and clicked on the flashing icon. It brought up the Gentleman Hackers chatroom, which he'd had minimized while he was working on Grim 's hack.

A private chat window popped up.

Rogue : You alright?

Devon hesitated before he typed a response.

Voy(ag)eur : Yeah, fine. Waiting for my program to get through a firewall.

Rogue : You wanna talk about it?

Voy(ag)eur : Talk about what?

Rogue : Anything. Whatever's bothering you.

Devon sighed. “Not really,” he mumbled.

From behind the monitors, Devon heard Oliver quietly ask, “The sleepover or brunch?”

“Both,” Devon admitted with a wince.

“Did he hurt you?” Oliver asked, the words coming out low and tight, like he was speaking through clenched teeth.

“No!” Devon gasped. “No, nothing like that.” He paused, not wanting to rub in Oliver's face just how amazing most of the night had been. “It was perfect, right up until I had an attack.”

“Oh. Shit. I'm so sorry.”

Devon waved his hands, then idly rested them on his keyboard. “Tell me about your night,” he said, changing the subject.

Oliver was silent.

“Oli?”

A heavy sigh sounded from across the table. “I spent all night,” Oliver quietly began, “trying to make myself hack into Dannika's hospital file again.”

“Oh.” Devon winced. Shit . He'd actually forgotten all about that. With everything that had happened in the past twenty-four hours, it had completely slipped his mind.

Now that he was done with all the morgue files at work, could he sneak in an hour to look up Dannika's records before he moved on to his next assignment? Gods . He hoped so. Time was slipping away from him. He had to get that done before he lost the chance.

“I couldn't do it,” Oliver went on. “I keep worrying it's gonna turn out to be worse than I thought.” He paused, snorting a humorless laugh.

“Which is stupid. She's dead. It can't get much worse than that.

But I have no idea how she died. Or really why she did it.

Her note got so thrashed, I still don't know what it meant.

Or who 'he' is. I need to know. But I'm also afraid that knowing will make it worse somehow.”

“In case she suffered,” Devon said quietly.

“Yeah. I need to know that it was quick.

And painless. She suffered enough in life.

I can't stand the thought of knowing she died slowly or something.” Oliver blurted out the last few words in a rush, then shot to his feet, breathing hard.

He started to hurry off, then stopped and whirled back, flying right up to Devon.

Oliver grabbed Devon's hand and clamped it to his forehead.

Devon winced. Gods. Poor Oli . He sat there, trying to hold still while all of Oliver's tension seemed to flow right out of Oliver's body and into Devon's hand instead.

Devon took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself not to rock.

Oliver needed this. It was usually the quickest way to diffuse an anxiety attack.

After a minute, Oliver muttered a curse and let go. He whirled away and rushed off to the washroom, nearly slamming the door.

Devon flinched. He could almost imagine what Oliver was going through.

Not necessarily in the sense of losing someone he loved, but in having some big, glaring questions with no answers.

Oliver was never going to be easy until he found out exactly how and why Dannika died.

The poor boy had been the one to find her body, for gods' sakes.

Oliver would probably be the one to find Devon's body, too. Assuming it was quick. Otherwise, Oliver would be right there beside him, watching him die.

Shit. Would his own death be sudden? Over and done with before he even realized it was happening? Or would it drag on for hours? Days? Weeks?

He let out a shuddering breath, knowing he could literally die in the next few seconds.

Devon grabbed his keyboard, turned to another monitor, and started a new hack.

Through one of his custom hacking programs, he logged in remotely to University Hospital, tricking the system into thinking he was using one of its own terminals.

It bypassed the fingerprint scan and allowed a username and password combination instead.

His monitors all flickered and flashed. Then his computer made a horrid beep and popped up a warning. System overload.

“Shit!” he gasped. Devon stared at the screens, trying to decide what to do before the computer crashed on him. Two hacks at once were apparently too much for the ancient machine to handle.

Devon jabbed at his keyboard, terminating the hack into University Hospital.

He closed his eyes and sighed, then made himself take a slow, deep breath.

Devon peeked at the screens and saw the warning disappear, his paid hack still running.

Thank gods . He didn't want to think about having to start that all over again.

Still, he hesitated. He could stop the hack for Grim and log into University Hospital instead, but he was pretty sure he was almost through with that job, which would mean getting paid.

Which would mean being able to pay the rent.

Buy groceries. Keep Oliver—and himself—under a solid roof.

Hacking the hospital wouldn't serve any of those needs.

Besides, assuming he didn't die that night, he'd be back at work in the morning.

Maybe he could get in early and check Dannika's files first thing before he moved on to cleaning out Andy's old office.

There was really no question. Dannika would have to wait.

Devon's screen flashed as his program finally broke through the target firewall, only for an automated counterattack to launch his way.

He snatched up his keyboard and started typing as fast as he could.

A few tense moments later, the counterattack was stopped, and Devon had full access to the target server.

He heaved a sigh of relief. That was close .

He took a minute to let his nerves calm, then finished out the job, typed up his report, and uploaded it to the chatroom.

Devon sat back and gave himself a moment to enjoy having something off his plate, the relief almost a physical thing, like an actual weight or pressure off his brain. Now, maybe he could at least start on Dannika's file.

But then a dozen other things all seemed to rush in at once. He had to pee. And needed a shower. Plus, his t-shirt was slightly twisted, having caught on his chair when he relaxed against it.

Everything was so loud.

Devon eyed the clock and inwardly cursed. It was already running up on his bedtime, and he still had things to take care of before that could happen.

He logged out of the chatroom, put his computer to sleep for the night, then got up and rushed for the washroom, realizing as he went that it was empty.

Oliver must have quietly crept out while Devon was working, then gone to his own room instead.

Devon ducked into the washroom, tore off his itchy clothes, relieved his bladder, and got into the shower.

Once he was clean, Devon found himself standing there under the hot spray, feeling almost cold, wishing Andy could have been there with him.

Gods . He couldn't help thinking of the shower he'd taken the night before. Of having Andy wash him all over, teasing and touching him, getting him so turned on and worked up that he almost couldn't stay on his feet.

He could almost still feel Andy inside him.

Devon shoved a hand between his legs and clamped the other one over his mouth, stifling his moans as his body raced toward orgasm.

The explosion wasn't at all what he'd imagined. Instead of crashing off the highest peak of a mountain, it was more like a gentle tumble down a hill. Damn it . Devon bit off a groan. It was still relief, but it wasn't the same.

Nothing would ever be the same anymore.

He cleaned himself up, dried off, and went to his room to pull on his pajamas, making sure to put on a diaper, just in case. Squirming with discomfort, Devon shut off the lights and climbed into bed.

Within moments, the diaper became the least of his worries.

Devon cursed, feeling a burning sensation spreading on his lower back.

He shifted, trying to reach under his shirt to touch his skin, then winced as his clothes, the bed, and his own hand made the burning feel even worse.

Devon sucked in a breath through his teeth and tried to turn over, hoping to take some of the pressure off.

Both legs gave out at once.

Devon gasped out a curse. He twisted over and reached out, trying to grab the edge of the mattress and use it as leverage to force his body onto one side.

His legs weren't positioned the way he wanted them, but when he propped himself up on one elbow and reached out with the other arm, trying to physically drag each leg to a better spot, his pajamas got all twisted up against the sheets.

No matter how much Devon reached and pulled and struggled, nothing would lie right.

And even without the pressure directly on his skin, the burning sensation didn't stop.

Devon collapsed, breathing heavily. He thought about yelling for Oliver, or even sending him a text that he needed help, but Oliver had enough on his mind without having to deal with Devon's problems, too.

Besides, other than straightening out the sheets for him, there was nothing Oliver could really do. The burning was an internal problem. It wouldn't stop until the attack came to an end.

Devon lay awake for hours, unable to sleep while the attack went on. By the time it finally stopped, Devon was so tired, he was nearly in tears.

When his alarm sounded the next morning, it felt far too soon. Devon reached out with a groan to silence it, then took a moment to take stock of his body.

No burning. No itching. No pain. And as he tested and flexed his muscles, starting with his shoulders and working his way down to his feet, there were no motor issues, either.

But it wouldn't last. It never did.

Devon pushed back the covers and dragged himself out of bed. He slogged through getting ready for work. Not even two cups of coffee were enough to make him feel fully awake after being up so late. Ugh . This day was going to be hard.

Damn it . He wanted Andy. Wanted the man's arms around him. Wanted to hear Andy tell him that everything was going to be alright.

Devon tried to say goodbye to Oliver, but the boy was still holed up in his room. He headed off to work, telling himself that he was going to get Dannika's file before he did anything else.

Well, except more coffee . He needed to give Dannika's case the proper focus. Then still be able to get down to business and do his job.

Devon reached the hospital and ducked into the elevator, skirting away from other people, wincing at their noise. He rode down to the basement level, heaving a sigh of relief when the cold, stark, empty space greeted him. Devon let himself into the office and paused.

The lights were all off, and there was no sign of Andy.

Devon peeked into the morgue next. It was the same in there. No signs of life. Not even a sign of death. The room was empty.

He backed out of the morgue and hesitated, standing there in the dark office. Damn it . Where the hells was Andy? Devon squirmed. He desperately needed a hug. Hells . Even just a glimpse of the man would be enough.

Devon turned away and made a pot of coffee, needing to get that off his mind, then sat down as he waited for it to brew.

He switched on the desk, and the surface lit up with the login screen, showing his and Andy's profiles.

Devon was about to put down his hand to scan in when he noticed Andy's profile showed logged into the system, but on a different terminal.

He quickly logged in himself, then accessed the server to track where Andy was. Maybe the man was at home and had remote access? Maybe Andy had taken a tablet home with him? But when Devon traced the source, he found Andy was signed into a terminal in Suite 301.

His old office.

Devon jumped up and ran down the hall to the elevator. He went to the third floor, wincing when the doors opened and a wide hallway greeted him, various people bustling about the space, going from one room to another. Devon scurried between them and found the office he needed.

He tested the door and found it unlocked. Devon slowly eased it open, peeking into the huge office, and gasped.

Files were stacked up and spread out everywhere, even worse than it had been in the morgue.

Two huge tables were completely covered, and there were even some files on the floor.

Devon had to carefully pick his way around them as he crept through the space.

The lights were all off and the windows were covered, but the desk shone with a faint, blue glow, showing it was on but idle.

And there was Andy—still dressed in the same clothes he'd been wearing yesterday—draped over the desk, fast asleep.