Page 11 of The Primary Pest (Iphicles Security #1)

CHAPTER NINE

Ajax

Ajax Freedom. I am the Bringer of Death.

You are a man, aren’t you?

Just like that, Ajax fell in love with another man he couldn’t have.

It didn’t take much, of course. He was twenty-two.

He fell in and out of love like a Skee-Ball, bouncing, rolling, falling into first one guy and then another.

But when Dmytro said, “You must learn to defend the things that matter.” Ajax fell into the fifty-pointer, right to the bottom, at least for the moment, at least until the next hot guy made him feel good, or cherished, or even a little bit competent, probably.

At least until Dmytro barked at him or ordered him around—or left, because he obviously would, once the job was over.

The moment was golden. Dmytro, a god come to earth just for him.

Nobody treated Ajax like a man. Nobody. And considering he’d already graduated from college, become a social media sensation, and been part of a wildly successful podcast, you’d think someone would give him some credit.

He held a degree in mathematics from a good college. Could have easily gone to grad school. Instead, he’d turned an unconventional sense of humor and a basic loathing of the world at large into a fucking industry.

Chilled to the bone from their walk back to the room, he went into their bathroom to rinse the chlorine off his skin and shampoo his hair. Now he stared at his face on the Ajax Freedom T-shirt he wore in the mirror—which seemed just a little too meta—and willed himself to chill the fuck out.

There was no point in hiding his attraction, but there was probably no point in having it either. The entire world now knew Ajax was gay, but Dmytro didn’t seem to be, what with the wife and the daughters and all, and also, duh , Ajax was only a job to these guys.

He walked back into the room in time to see the tiniest sliver of Dmytro’s inked back before the T-shirt he was putting on fell like a curtain to cover it. Plaid sleep pants made him look like a dad. Just not Ajax’s dad. Not. At. All.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Dmytro narrowed his eyes.

“No reason.” Ajax flushed. “When can we go for target practice?”

“I’ll run the idea past Zhenya and Bartosz, and we’ll find out if there’s a range around here in the morning. If we think it’s safe enough, then we’ll consider it.”

“Do I get to use your gun or Bartosz’s?”

“We’ll see, I said.” Dmytro plugged his laptop into its charger before placing his watch on the nightstand between the beds.

By which he meant the really scary ones.

Iphicles had removed his electronics, cloned them, and kept any interaction private to keep Ajax from worrying. They’d started monitoring his home security feed when his admirer sent pictures from inside his house.

Ajax did worry. This threat was different. Ajax made a game out of identifying anonymous commenters, but this guy was in a class by himself. If he couldn’t find this person—if even Iphicles couldn’t—there was cause for alarm.

The email harassment kept coming. Its personal nature scared him.

There was a different mind at work there—the threats were more visceral, more powerful, as if their sender had his hand inside him already and was tightening his grip around Ajax’s lungs.

There was a sick but clever mind behind the attacks.

“Did I get any love letters today?” he asked.

“Some.” Dmytro didn’t meet his gaze. He rose to turn on the light between them before turning out all the rest. “Peter sent a list of names for you to look at.”

He handed over a slip of paper. Ajax skimmed it. There were five names on it. A Xander, a Josh, two Jasons, and a Rafe.

“What are these?”

“Do you recognize any of those names?”

“Maybe. They could be online acquaintances or guys I hooked up with, although it’s kind of sketchy because I normally don’t remember last names. I met a guy named Rafe at a party last year.” The man was memorable, if only because Ajax had blocked him from a hookup app. “He was an arrogant ass.”

“Yeah? More specific impressions?”

“He had this weird way of staring. And he licked the condensation from his glass like a lizard. My money’s on him if we’re dealing with a guy who wanted to get with me but couldn’t get past first base.

But cripes. Joshuas, Jasons, and even Xanders are everywhere.

I’ve met a few of each at parties or clubs through the years, and I’m sure I pissed one or two off.

There’s this one Jason guy who seemed… jealous.

He was rude and egotistical.” He’d blocked him too.

“He has reminded me more than once I don’t deserve the success I have. ”

“Great.” Dmytro sighed. “Could any of them have a special reason to harm you?”

“All of them. But does someone need a reason? I upset the status quo. I made it okay—even stylish—for people to be assholes, and then I called them out on it.”

“From what I can see, you called yourself out, Ajax.”

“Probably.” Uncertain, Ajax asked, “What do you think that means?”

Dmytro shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“Can I please have the window bed? Being on the inside makes me feel closed in.”

“No. Take the bed by the bath while we’re here.

” Dmytro didn’t look up until he plugged his phone in.

Then he patiently met Ajax’s gaze. “It’s for your safety, Ajax.

If anything happens, you’re to take your phone into the bathroom, lock the door, and call 911 for help.

Get in the bathtub if there’s any shooting. ”

Ajax gave an eye roll. “Nothing’s going to happen.”

“If there’s an emergency,” Dmytro said sternly, “Bartosz and I will place our lives on the line for you. Please do as I ask.”

“This is bullshit.” A mutinous feeling swept over him. He hated being told what to do. He hated unknown threats and uncertainty.

“It’s not bullshit to me.” Dmytro turned away, but not before Ajax saw he was visibly angry. “Your safety matters because getting home to my daughters alive matters. How I do that, when I spend my time protecting other people’s children, is through careful preparation and planning, and—”

“I’m sorry.” Feeling slapped again, Ajax turned away and sighed.

Dmytro gave a sharp rap on the wall, and Ajax jumped about five feet. Seconds later a thud echoed back. “Bartosz will take the first watch, and I’ll take the second. When it’s my turn, he’ll sleep in here with you.”

Ajax didn’t expect they’d braid each other’s hair, but he’d hoped Dmytro wouldn’t leave him alone with Bartosz. Not that there was anything wrong with Bartosz. He’d talked to Dmytro. Felt some kind of bond, over Anton maybe. Now it looked like that was wishful thinking too.

Ajax brushed his teeth with the same care he gave to all aspects of grooming. He was meticulous. Precise. It was time-consuming but well worth it. He’d never had a cavity in his life.

Alter ego Ajax Freedom wasn’t that guy. He spent his evenings drinking J?ger bombs and fell asleep draped over the backs of couches.

He’d passed out in hotel bathtubs in order to avoid sorority girls who wanted to fuck him.

That life was never meant to last because Ajax Freedom was performance art.

He’d never believed it could go quite so horribly wrong, but what had he expected?

He’d basically trolled his audience twenty-four seven.

He slipped into bed and glanced over at Dmytro, who lay on his side, phone in his hands. Ajax couldn’t tell whether he was reading the news or interacting with someone.

“You want the light off?” he asked about the table lamp between the two beds.

“I’ll get the lights in a minute.” Dmytro thumbed something into his phone and put it aside. “Do you take anything to sleep?”

“No. Why?”

“If we have any problems, I want to know now whether I can wake you or if I’ll need to simply pick you up and carry you.”

Ajax’s groin tingled. “I don’t take anything, but you can carry me anyway if you want. Anton was an awesome piggybacker.”

Dmytro gave that the look it deserved. “Go to sleep.”

“All right.” He rolled over and punched the surprisingly nice pillow. “I’ll need the light off to sleep.”

“Fine.” Behind Ajax, the light went out. “Do you want me to sing a bedtime song too?”

“I could use a bottle of water.”

“That,” Dmytro said, “I can do.”

Dmytro picked up his phone again, and a couple minutes later, a discreet tap on the door led to a fresh, cold water bottle for Ajax.

“That’s service.”

“Iphicles is client-driven,” Dmytro offered. “Whatever I can do to make this easier without compromising your safety, I will try to do.”

Ajax sat up and turned on the light to do an irony check. He didn’t see any. Maybe Dmytro had warmed up to him?

Then the cold smile was back. The glacial eyes. “That said, if you do anything reckless or stupid, I will not hesitate to duct tape your mouth, cowtie you, and throw you in the trunk of a car.”

“Hogtie.” Ajax swallowed. “We say hogtie .”

Dmytro shrugged before turning the light off. “Get some sleep. I messaged Zhenya about taking target practice, and he’s looking into it.”

Ajax shut his eyes and imagined holding a gun again.

Letting Dmytro stand behind him to help him sight a target as Anton had done, face close to his, breath puffing at his neck as he said in his rich Eastern European accent, “All right, now Ajax, let out the breath you’re holding. Squeeze—do not pull—the trigger.”

“Awesome.” This was gonna be torture .