Chapter Twelve
Drew was back in his arms again, fine tremors wracking him. Whatever was going on with this Russ guy, it had Drew scared into silence.
“Just tell me,” he urged. “Tell me what made you run.”
Drew’s face was pressed against his neck, his hands fisted in his shirt.
“I think he had someone killed,” Drew murmured softly next to his ear. “The head of a company he and his main competitor were vying to buy.”
Well, fuck. Of all the things Sam had been expecting, a murder conspiracy wasn’t one of them. Where was Sherlock Holmes when you needed him?
“Why do you think that?” he asked, his voice equally soft, conscious of Matt sleeping in the next room.
“He had a personal computer in his penthouse, completely separate from his work laptop and his PDA. I got curious, and I looked at it. It had much better security than any of the company stuff, and I guess that made me even more curious. I broke through the encryption and it was all laid out, in black and white.”
“What was? What was he doing?”
“Fraud. And some stuff that I guess falls under competition law. He had insider information into his competitors, into companies he had shares in. But there was this series of emails and transactions through an offshore shell company. I didn’t figure it out until later, when I lined up the dates. Two twenty-five thousand dollar transactions and another fifty the day after it was done.”
“Do you have any proof of this,” Sam asked, cupping Drew’s cheek and directing his gaze up.
“Maybe,” Drew replied, biting his lower lip. Sam used his thumb to gently free it from his teeth. “Maybe?”
“I knew I’d only have one chance at it. The computer had key logging software I couldn’t disable so one way or another Russ would find out I'd snooped. It didn’t have any ports, like USB, or disk drives. The wireless access was heavily encrypted, but I managed to get limited access and emailed copies of everything I could to a friend of mine.”
“Key-logging software? Doesn’t that mean Russell knows you’ve got the information? That you sent it by email?”
“No, the email address sends a spoofed reply telling you the email failed to send. Russ was crowing about it afterward, telling me how foolish I was.” After leaving him bloody and bruised, Sam guessed.
“Why didn’t you run before he figured it out?”
Drew tried to duck his head again, but Sam placed two fingers under his chin, urging his gaze upward.
“He came back before I could leave. Turns out there was a motion sensitive camera trained on the computer. He knew what I’d done. Before I could get out, he’d locked the door and come at me. I hit my head and woke up on the bed a while later with him sitting next to me telling me how disappointed he was and how I’d betrayed his trust. But that it was okay, the email hadn’t sent, we could start over.”
Sam let his fingers slip lower, to Drew’s throat, feeling the other man swallow hard, his pulse thrumming under his skin.
“That was the first time he threatened to fake my involvement. It wasn’t like it would be hard. I’d been living with him for a year. We shared a bed. I worked in his company. Why would anyone believe I was ignorant of what was going on, especially if Russ was telling them otherwise?”
“But you still ran?”
“I went back through Russ’ work calendar on his phone for the dates of the emails and the transactions. The first email was two days after that company refused a buy out offer from Russ for the second time. The second payment was two days before the director died. The final payment was the day after. The emails were cryptic but once I knew what to look for, it wasn’t hard to fill in the blanks. That was why I ran. He’s only a year and one more contract away from being a billionaire. If all it costs to have someone in your way killed is a hundred grand, then he could end me ten times over and put barely a dent his bottom line.”
“And the evidence is out there?”
“I’m not certain. I never made contact with my friend out of fear of drawing him into the middle of this mess. But, in theory, yeah, he should have it.”
“And it’ll prove what you’re telling me, about the fraud and the insider information?”
“More or less. And it might be enough to open an investigation into that director’s death.”
“How’d he die?”
Drew sighed against him, swallowing again. “Scuba diving accident, supposedly. I guess it all looked so innocuous that no one suspected foul play.”
Sam stroked his fingers across Drew’s cheek. “Logan did warn me you might be trouble. But this is a bit more than I was expecting.”
Drew laughed, then clapped a hand over his mouth, gaze moving to Sam’s bedroom door. The only noise from inside was the quiet sound of Matt's breathing. He sobered quickly.
“Logan doesn’t know any of this. Or my dad. I need to keep them out of it. Not just because they don’t know about me, that’s… that pales in comparison to the risk putting them under Russ’ spotlight would bring.”
“He won’t hear it from me. Besides, I doubt he’d believe me.”
Drew went still in his arms, one hand clutching his shirt collar.
“Do… do you believe me?” The tense way he held himself betrayed his doubt.
“It all sounds a little far-fetched but right now I have no reason not to believe you.” He tugged Drew’s shirt up, his eyes on the still fading bruises. “And a dozen reasons to hear you out.”
“What would you do, if you were me?” Drew relaxed a little, leaning against Sam once more.
“I’d get a good night’s sleep and not make any decisions until tomorrow morning.”
Drew made a face. “Are you always this sensible?”
“Cop and former soldier here. What do you think?”
“And you’re going to sleep out here? Couldn't you stay in with me?”
“I need to be here if Matt needs me and I don’t want him slipping past to the front door.”
“You’re a good friend to him.”
“I don’t know if I believe that. It doesn’t seem to matter what I do, things haven’t gotten any better.”
Drew pulled away, getting to his feet. Sam let him go reluctantly, settling against the back of the couch, and closing his eyes.
Footsteps returned a moment later and Drew resumed his seat beside him, a blanket in his hands. He’d shed his clothes in favor of boxers and an old T-shirt.
“Drew…”
“I’ll keep you company. And you can keep me company. It’s not like either of us are going to get a lot of sleep.”
Drew was waiting for a response, eyeing him hopefully.
“Fine,” Sam said, standing up and tugging off his button-down shirt and pants, leaving him in boxers and a vest. “But let's at least try to get some rest, okay? Here.”
Reaching for Drew, he maneuvered him so that they were lying on their sides, lengthways along the couch, Drew’s back toward his chest. He drew the blanket up around them both.
“Sleep, Drew. I’ve got your back.”
Drew chuckled at that. “Literally.”
Sam ran the palm of his hand down along Drew’s spine over his T-shirt, earning him a muffled sound of surprise as Drew arched against him. Teasingly, he slipped his hand under Drew’s shirt, gently gliding upwards, avoiding the bruises hidden beneath the material. He didn’t need to see to know they were there. Their existence had been burned into his memory, the image of Drew, beaten, bruised and bleeding easy to call up to the forefront of his mind, Drew’s frightened eyes watching him.
“Sleep,” he said, withdrawing his hand, and pressing closer to Drew’s back. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”
He had no idea what they were going to say or how he was going to fix this. But he was just going to have to figure out a way. To help Matt, to help Drew, and not to let his team down. He needed one hell of a juggling act.