Page 30 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

ANDY WOKE with a gasp when something touched his hand.

Devon jumped back. “I'm so sorry!”

Andy scrubbed a hand over his face and blinked hard. “Dev?”

“I'm so sorry,” the boy repeated. “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Andy slowly shook his head and looked around. “What are you doing here? What time is it?”

“Almost ten.”

“Shit!” Andy shot out of the chair, trying to get his bearings. He'd completely lost track of time last night, going back over all of the files. Sometime around five that morning, he'd put his head down in frustration, feeling like he was getting nowhere.

And that was the last thing he remembered.

Devon shyly stepped forward. “Here,” he murmured.

Andy blinked. The boy held a fresh mug of coffee in his hands. “What's this?” Andy asked.

Devon shrugged. “I started a pot downstairs, and then when I found you up here, I went back down and…”

Andy gratefully took the mug. “Thank you.” He took a sip and groaned with relief. It was made just the way he liked it. Andy took another sip, then pulled Devon close and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “Thank you,” he repeated in a murmur.

Devon smiled and burrowed into his side.

Andy held him with one arm while he gulped down some more coffee, waiting for it to take effect, then looked down at Devon again. “Hey. You alright?”

Devon slowly nodded. “I missed you.”

Andy couldn't help smiling at that. “I missed you, too.” In the middle of the night, surrounded by memories of death, Andy had been sorely tempted to drive back to Devon's apartment.

To wake him up just long enough to get inside and crawl into bed with him.

“I'd actually forgotten how good it felt to share a bed with someone.”

Devon held him a little tighter. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Andy brushed another kiss on the boy's forehead. Gods . It had been years since he'd gotten to sleep beside someone. For a while there, he'd managed to forget what he was missing. But now? He couldn't imagine lying in his bed all alone ever again.

Except he knew he'd have to do so. His time with Devon was limited. One night, Devon might be lying beside him, and the next night, the boy might be lying on his slab instead.

“Shit!” Andy gasped.

Devon flinched. “What?”

“The Masons.” Andy gulped down some more coffee, then slammed down the mug.

“I completely forgot. They're coming for a viewing.” He eyed the clock.

“Damn it. They're probably already here.” He looked down at himself, realizing he was in yesterday's clothes and that he hadn't showered or brushed his teeth.

Devon picked up the mug and held it out to him. “Finish this. Then go downstairs and take a shower while I go see if they're even here yet.”

Andy paused, and he couldn't help chuckling a little. “You do realize I'm the daddy, right?”

Devon blushed and laughed.

Andy gave the boy a kiss, then did as he was told.

Because Devon was right. They left the office and headed for the elevator, Andy finishing his coffee as they went.

Down in the basement, Andy grabbed a fresh pair of underwear from the change of clothes he always kept handy, then snatched a clean set of scrubs from a cabinet before he ducked into the washroom and took a quick shower.

He dried off, finger-combed his hair, brushed his teeth, and got dressed.

When he stepped back out into the office, he found Devon waiting for him with another half-full mug of coffee. “A nurse just came by,” Devon said as he handed Andy the mug. “The Masons just got here. She took them to the waiting area.”

“Thanks,” Andy said with a nod, then gulped down some coffee. He eyed Devon. Gods, he's beautiful . The more Andy looked at him, the less he saw the plain boy he'd noticed at first glance and the more he saw this stunning, lovable, precious young man.

He didn't want to let Devon out of his sight.

But there were people waiting. People wanting to know how their son died. People who would never be the same, carrying the burden of a gaping hole in their lives.

Andy took a slow, deep breath and left the room without another word. He had to focus. No matter what their son had done in life, these people would be grieving, feeling a pain that Andy knew all too well.

He paused at the sitting area, spotting the couple waiting there. Gods . If the deceased had looked aged beyond his years, his parents looked even worse. White-haired and wrinkled, they looked closer to eighty than sixty.

“Mister Mason?” Andy began gently, then turned to the man's wife. “Madam. I'm Doctor Gerard. I am so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Mason supported his wife as the two of them stood, taking turns shaking Andy's hand.

“Whenever you're ready–” Andy began.

“Let's just get this over with,” Mrs. Mason said, blotting tears from her eyes with an old, worn handkerchief.

“As you wish,” Andy murmured. He opened the door to the viewing room, then stood back and waited while the couple slowly shuffled inside.

The pair stopped beside the table, holding hands so tightly that their knuckles turned white.

Andy stepped around to the other side, grabbed the sheet, and carefully turned it down, uncovering their son's face.

There were no hysterics. Not even a gasp.

Just quiet resignation. Mrs. Mason reached out and hesitantly stroked her son's hair while her husband rested a hand over the sheet, where it covered his son's arm.

After only a few seconds, Mrs. Mason stepped back with a nod, and her husband steadied her as the two of them shuffled back to the sitting area.

They both sank into the chairs like their strings had been cut.

Andy reached for the sheet, then paused. A ghost flickered into view in one corner of the room, staring down at its lifeless corpse. The ghost spotted Andy, then floated over to the open doorway. The spectral form hesitated there, staring at his parents.

I'm so sorry , the ghost sobbed. I'm so sorry .

Neither of the Masons reacted.

The ghost choked out another sob and vanished.

Andy sighed and covered the body, then gave a quick nod to the nurse hovering in the background and strode out of the viewing room, stopping at a respectful distance from the couple. He opened his mouth, ready to give his usual speech about understanding what they were going through.

Before he could speak, Mr. Mason said, “We always knew this day would come.” The man shook his head, staring down at the floor as he clutched his wife's hand.

“We hadn't heard from Steven in years,” he went on.

“Or whatever he was calling himself now,” the man added in a mumble.

“We were never really sure if he was still alive. But now…” He took a deep breath and straightened up, looking at Andy. “How did you even manage to find us?”

“My assistant,” Andy told him. “He tracked down some old files using DNA analysis.”

Mrs. Mason winced.

“From there,” Andy went on, “he was able to find the name change and trace next-of-kin.”

Mr. Mason nodded. “He changed his name to protect us ,” he said, squeezing his wife's hand. “To try distancing himself from us. After what he did–” He swallowed hard. “If you found his files, I'm assuming you know about that, too.”

Andy gave him a single nod.

“He was so ashamed,” Mr. Mason continued.

“It haunted him. He ran away. Started drinking.

We only heard from him every few years or so.

Never really knew where he was. Whether he was alive or dead until a phone call came out of the blue.

He'd be drunk and rambling and begging for forgiveness.

Half the time, he wasn't remotely coherent. The other half, it sounded like he was being hunted. Every time life started to turn around for him, it fell apart again. Evictions. Lost jobs. Money vanishing into thin air. It was really only a matter of time…” The man paused, eyeing the door to the viewing room.

“We've been waiting for this day for over twenty years.”

Andy winced. Gods . That was something he understood all too well. The anticipation. The knowledge that disaster—that death—was barreling down upon him like a freight train. That he'd never know exactly when it was coming until it was too late, but that nothing he did could stop it.

“Don't get me wrong,” Mr. Mason suddenly added. “What he and the other boys did to that poor girl was…”

“Horrific,” Mrs. Mason mumbled.

Her husband nodded. “But he was still our son.”

“Our little boy,” Mrs. Mason whispered before hiding her face behind the handkerchief.

Mr. Mason glanced at his wife, then looked up at Andy again. “How did he–”

Andy took a seat facing them. “Alcohol poisoning,” he murmured. “And if it hadn't been that, it would have been liver failure in the not-too-distant future.”

Mr. Mason nodded as though he weren't surprised. “At least he can be at peace now,” the man whispered.

Andy opened his mouth, then thought better of it. He glanced at the doorway to the viewing room, where the man's ghost had disappeared. If these people couldn't see or hear their son, convincing them of his continued existence would be difficult at best.

And they were in enough pain as it was. Telling them that their son's mind still existed—that Steven was still suffering—would only make things worse for them.

Andy paused with a frown. “You don't happen to know any of the magi, do you?” he blurted out.

The Masons both looked up at him. “The magi?” Mr. Mason asked. “No. Why?”

Damn . Andy shook his head. “I found one of them here,” he admitted. “When your son was first brought in. But he vanished before I could ask him how he knew your son.”

The couple looked puzzled. “No, we've never had any dealings with the magi,” Mr. Mason told him. “Nor did Steven.”

“That we know of,” his wife added.

“True,” Mr. Mason conceded. “We never knew where he was. How he lived. Who his friends were. If he even had any.” He shook his head. “If he ever met any of the magi, he never told us about it.”

Andy slowly nodded. Well, it was worth a shot . Maybe he'd never know who the mage was. Maybe it didn't matter.

Except there had been that moment at the club, too. It had to have been the same man. Andy was almost sure of it. The mage had been watching him. Or watching Devon? Or both?

But why?

He wondered if Devon could track him down the way the boy had found the Masons.

Mrs. Mason glanced towards the viewing room, then pressed the handkerchief to her mouth. She held her breath, blinking rapidly. After a moment, she let out a gasp and lowered her hand just enough to say, “I need some air.”

The couple fled the room, heading for the nearest exit.

Andy watched them go, shaking his head and inwardly cursing.

Gods . He knew what they were feeling all too well.

That overwhelming need to escape. To pretend, for a moment, that this wasn't really happening.

The weight of it was simply too much to bear.

And Andy knew he was going to feel all that again. Fuck . What the hells was he thinking, letting himself indulge in this attraction to Devon? The boy was dangerous. Andy was already at serious risk for total heartbreak. Getting any closer to Devon would only make things worse.

He'd been so determined to fight this attraction, yet Devon kept reeling him in at every turn.

Every little blush. Every little vulnerability.

The sweet, shy smiles. The intelligence and work ethic.

The pure enjoyment of simple, beautiful things.

Andy was right on the edge. He was going to have to get himself under control before it was too late.

Hells . Who was he kidding? It was already too late. Far past it. It had only been a mere handful of days, but that didn't matter.

Andy was completely—hopelessly—in love with Devon Campbell.

And it was going to utterly destroy him.