Page 8 of Private Exhibit (Gentleman Hackers #4)

DEVON STARED at his glossy new employee badge as he rode the elevator down to the hospital basement level.

He had a job! It still didn't seem quite real yet.

Probably wouldn't until his first paycheck landed in his bank account.

After that horrible interview, he'd thought for sure that he was back to starting his job hunt all over again.

But he'd barely started browsing the listings when he'd gotten a call from Mr. Bokin himself. The job was his if he wanted it. Everyone else had turned it down.

Devon had jumped at it. He needed something. Anything . He had to have an income so he could keep a roof over their heads.

But how in the hells was he going to work for that man?

Devon trembled. Not so much in the memory of Dr. Gerard's fury—he'd dealt with worse—but in knowing that he was going to be working for a man who'd given him the most intimate moment of his life.

Gods . Devon squeezed his legs together, then held his breath. Do not get aroused. Do not get aroused. He's your boss now. Totally off-limits. You have to focus .

The elevator doors opened, and the cold, stark hallway snapped him out of his thoughts. Devon slowly exited the car, hoping his legs would hold up, and headed for the morgue office.

He found the door closed. Devon strained to listen but couldn't hear anything inside the room. He checked the time. His shift was supposed to start at nine, and it was already five-'til. Devon took a deep breath, gave the door a quick knock, then slowly eased it open.

The room was dark but it wasn't empty. Illuminated by the glow of a tablet in his hands, Dr. Gerard sat behind the desk, scowling at the screen. The man slowly looked up, his whole body going tense as Devon took a step inside.

You can do this . Devon swallowed hard. “Good morning.”

A beat passed before the doctor mumbled, “Good morning.” Out in the hallway, footsteps approached. The doctor scowled and said, “Shut the door.”

Devon hurried to obey, whirling around to push the door shut and then turning back to face the man. They waited in silence while the footsteps passed by and faded into the distance.

Dr. Gerard sighed, then slowly set down the tablet. He looked up, opening his mouth like he was going to say something, then shook his head and slumped back in his chair, gripping the armrests so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

Devon watched him, feeling an intense, coiled power ready to strike. He braced himself, waiting for the same fury as before, yet he wasn't afraid. If anything, something about the doctor made him feel settled in a way he'd never felt in his life.

Then the silence and dimness of the room finally registered, engulfing him in calm.

“Oh,” Devon gasped.

The doctor tensed even more. “What?”

Devon slowly looked around. “It's so quiet,” he whispered in awe. He closed his eyes, reveling in the peace of it. This wasn't an attack cutting off sensory information. It was better. An actual quiet, calm space, away from the chaos of the world.

When he opened his eyes, he found Dr. Gerard looking at him strangely. Then the man gave a start, shook his head, and shot out of the chair. “You'll probably need to check in with H.R. before you get started–”

“I already did,” Devon replied, holding up his hospital security badge.

“And then they sent me to I.T. to set up my credentials for your computer system.

They started to give me a crash course in how to use the software, but honestly, it's so intuitive and organized, it took me about five minutes to figure out how it all worked.”

The doctor's eyebrows went up. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.”

Dr. Gerard narrowed his eyes. “Show me,” he said, gesturing at the desk.

Devon glanced at it, the glass surface still littered with tablets and files. He shuddered. Oh gods . How was he going to function with all that chaos in front of him? He took a deep breath. It had to be done. This was his job now. He'd just have to deal with it.

He set his lunch bag down on a chair, then stepped around behind the desk, almost having to squeeze right past the doctor to do so.

Devon felt his heartbeat kick up, being so close to the man.

Gods. Focus! He moved in front of the chair and started to reach for the tablet the doctor had been using, then stopped with a gasp.

“Oh my gods,” he gushed, staring at the desk itself.

At least, what little he could see of it.

“That's an Atlas Two-Fifty-D. Oh my gods!” he repeated.

“I've always wanted to play with one of these!

It's got integrated holoprojection and the Hyperion processor which is so much better than the previous version.

I mean, the Albatross processor was good, but this!

This thing can outperform anything that's ever been on the market–” Devon cut himself off when he realized he was babbling, feeling his cheeks go hot.

“I have no idea what any of that means.” Dr. Gerard rubbed the back of his neck. “And I honestly don't even know how to turn this damned thing on.”

“Really?” Devon reached under the desk, running his fingertips along the edge.

The desk surface lit up with a blue glow.

“That's it?” the doctor asked incredulously.

Devon nodded. “Just right here,” he said, pointing, then slid his hand first to the left, then to the right. “Off. On.”

The doctor reached past him, his arm brushing Devon's chest, and tried it himself. “Well, I'll be damned.” He drew his arm back, then looked down at Devon with an eyebrow cocked. “Alright.” He grabbed the tablet and held it up. “Show me what you can do with this.”

Devon took the tablet, seeing a patient file with a lot of incomplete information.

“I've got this one on ice,” the doctor said. “No identification of any kind,” he went on. “We need to figure out who he is so we can notify next-of-kin.”

Devon blinked. That was it? “Oh. That's easy.” He noted a blood sample attached to the patient file, so a DNA analysis had already been done.

Devon ran a quick search against the hospital database, but didn't find any matches.

He switched apps and started to run a network search, then grimaced and shook his head.

“May I use this instead?” he asked, pointing at the desk.

The doctor gestured permission, then crossed his arms over his chest.

Devon propped up the tablet, sat down, and turned the desk back on.

The blue glow was soothing in the otherwise dark room.

Tapping on the glass surface, Devon scanned his fingerprints to log into the server, then opened the touch keyboard.

He couldn't help smiling at that. Typing on glass felt so much nicer than an old-fashioned, traditional keyboard like he had at home.

The smooth, cool surface sent a chill of pleasure right through his fingertips.

He typed in the patient ID number, opened the patient's profile, and ran a network search, looking for a matching DNA file in any database to which the hospital had access.

When nothing turned up there, Devon hesitated only for a second before he pushed the patient file aside and opened a new command prompt.

It would have been so much easier without all the chaos cluttering the desk surface, but he couldn't stop now.

He had to prove that he could do this job.

With Dr. Gerard looking over his shoulder, Devon remotely logged into one of his computers at home, accessing one of his custom designed hacking protocols. He fed the unknown patient's DNA into the program and ran a search through any and all databases to which he still had a backdoor.

Thanks to years of hacking into various medical facilities across the land, there almost wasn't a single database that Devon couldn't reach.

University Hospital had always been the great exception.

It wasn't so secure as to be unhackable, but no matter what Devon had tried, he'd never been able to access Dr. Gerard's files on his Ashworth-Grahams study.

But now, with credentials, things might be different.

If he was very careful, he could dig into their files—into Dr. Gerard's files—and see if there were any promising leads for his condition.

That was doubtful, considering the doctor had apparently given up his study, but Devon still had to try. He could also get better access to the files for Dannika, Oliver's friend. Then Oliver might have some answers and some closure.

But Devon had to keep this job in order to accomplish all that. One thing at a time . He finished the search, then grinned as three matching results popped up. Devon opened the files, lining them up side-by-side on the desk screen, confirming the DNA profiles were in fact a match.

“There he is,” Devon announced. “His name. Some address history. Looks like he has both parents still living, but no siblings that I can see. No spouse or children–” Devon broke off, sucking in air between his teeth. “Gods,” he gasped.

“What?” Dr. Gerard asked, leaning down over his shoulder.

Devon shuddered, the warmth and scent of the man threatening to distract him.

“Um.” He quickly tried to shake off the sensation, then pointed at one of the files.

“He changed his name at some point, but it's clearly the same man since the DNA profile is an exact match. Looks like he was implicated in the gang rape of a teenage girl several years ago.”

“Gods,” the doctor cursed. He paused, glancing towards the doorway that led into the morgue. “Not worth it,” he muttered, sounding like he was quoting someone. After a moment, he added in a whisper, “How did he know?”

“What? Who?”

The doctor stilled, then tore his gaze away from the other room.

“Nothing. Never mind.” He shook his head.

“Gods. You found all this in minutes. I've been fighting this damned thing for days .” The doctor breathed a laugh.

“Kids,” he muttered, then shook his head again.

“Can you…I don't know…put all this into his patient file here?”

“Of course.” Devon executed a few keystrokes, and the patient file populated all the missing information.

The dead man's name and aliases, last known address, contact information for his parents, pieces of medical history, and other assorted details instantly appeared in the empty fields, completing the profile.

The doctor muttered a curse. “You make that look so easy.” He reached out and scrolled through the file. Apparently satisfied, he straightened up and said, “Go ahead and close it out and forward it to Billing.”

Devon did as he was told. “Done.” The patient file closed, and then Devon started to close the other windows laid out across the desk surface, exiting out of the various databases one by one.

Before he could sign out of the remote access to his home computer, the doctor reached out and pointed at the screen, his fingertip underscoring Voy(ag)eur . “What's that?”

Devon blushed. “Um. My deep web handle.”

“Your what?”

“My username,” Devon clarified.

“Voyager?” the doctor asked.

Devon felt his blush spread as he reached out and used his fingertip to cover the (ag) portion.

“Voy…eur,” the doctor said, reading around it. “Oh,” he gasped, the sound deep and breathy.

Devon's heartbeat kicked up again. He risked a glance back over his shoulder, seeing the doctor's eyes darken and nostrils flare. Devon squeezed his legs together and tried to concentrate on breathing.

The man was so close. Bare inches away, which was both too close and too far all at once. Somehow, he knew they were both thinking of the other night. Of the glorious experience they'd shared.

Devon slowly drew his finger away, needing to hide the sudden trembling in his hands.

The doctor tensed, his unblinking gaze riveted to the desk surface. He swallowed hard, then slowly reached out and touched just below the handle again, pointing right at the middle of it, the part that Devon had covered up. “Ashworth-Grahams,” the doctor whispered. “Inside you.”

Devon winced.

Dr. Gerard jerked back, taking a shaky step away and running both hands through his hair. He paused, glancing towards a corner of the room. “No, not now,” he muttered, then gave a nod at nothing in particular before he put his hands on his hips and hung his head.

Devon waited. Shit. Please don't fire me. Please don't fire me . Mr. Bokin had told him explicitly that he wouldn't allow the doctor to fire him without poor performance, but still.

Finally, after a moment, Dr. Gerard whirled back around and cleared his throat. “You know what you're doing?” he asked gruffly, waving at the mess all over the desk.

Devon glanced at the chaos. He had a rough idea and he was sure he could figure out the rest as he went along. “Yes, sir,” he replied.

“Good.” The doctor coughed. “Get to it, then.”

With that, Dr. Gerard stormed into the morgue and let the door swing shut behind him.

Devon winced, but the discomfort didn't last long. The doctor left a perfect silence in his wake, taking all the tension with him.

Well, almost all . Devon grimaced at the piles of clutter all over the desk. He knew he wouldn't feel truly settled until all of that was gone.

But where the hells was he supposed to start?

Devon took a deep breath and let it out in a rush. Alright. One thing at a time . He started by separating the tablets from the paper files, making neat stacks of each. Then he picked up the first tablet on the stack and turned it on, finding another incomplete patient file.

At least this one had an identity. What it didn't have were the autopsy findings or the recorded video that documented the procedure. Those tabs were highlighted in red, making them easy to spot.

Devon eyed the stacks of paper files. On a hunch, he shuffled through them until he found one bearing the name of the patient that matched the file on the tablet. Devon chuckled. Apparently, the doctor really wasn't fond of technology, resorting to paper instead.

Huh . Maybe that was why he'd never found the study files. If they were all on paper, then where were they, exactly?? Would he even be allowed to access them?

But that would have to wait. One thing at a time , Devon reminded himself. He eyed the doorway into the morgue, then took a deep breath and got to work.