“You all understand how this will work, correct?”

With a squeak of leather, Sean Cook turned in his seat to regard the six tuxedoed men - six, despite Damon’s incredibly loud and curse-filled threats of retribution against his lover when he insisted on accompanying them - in the back of the limo.

“You’ve been over it enough times,” Damon said, his gravelly voice made even rougher by suppressed anger and worry.

Cain took Damon’s hand and leaned into his side, undeterred by his grumbling, and Damon laid a fervent kiss on his temple. “The entire event is being held in one room. We walk into the room together,” Cain recited. “We take one walk around the perimeter to observe the items for auction, also together.”

“If one of us stops, to bid or to chat, all of us stop,” Cam said flatly, slouching in his seat. Cort reached over and took his hand, pressing a smiling kiss to his knuckles.

“Right.” Cain nodded.

“After the first circuit around the room, we find our table, which will be in the back corner, furthest from the door and without a direct sightline from any windows,” Bas said. Though he held tightly to Drew’s hand, his jaw was hard and his gaze was turned resolutely out the window, maybe watching the lights shimmer on the Charles River as they approached their destination. His displeasure at the whole scene was visible in every line of his body.

“We eat the special meals that will be delivered by Agents Derrick and Marquez,” Cort said, taking his turn. “Who have already warned me against asking for extra ketchup with my steak tartare.” He sighed comically.

“I appreciate you reminding Carl and Nat why they really shouldn’t miss you all that much,” Sean said soberly. “What else?”

“We don’t leave the room for any reason. Not to use the bathroom. Not to take a phone call,” Drew said. “If we have an emergency situation, we find one of the agents we know and inform them.”

“Good,” Sean said. “Excellent. Everyone’s phones are on and charged?”

A chorus of yeses, along with Damon’s, “I already fucking told you it was!” filled the air.

“We’ve got a dozen agents working behind the scenes in that room - some as waiters, others as guests. They will be monitoring you at all times, keeping in proximity and ready to jump in if something happens. We have a safe room set up in one of the unused maintenance shops just down the hall from the main area. We have taken every precaution to make you as safe as possible.”

“Except one,” Bas said, finally turning his head only to glare at Sean. “Because what you’re not saying is that Alexei has likely anticipated all of this. He knows we’ll have agents in there with us, thanks to Cort’s connections if nothing else. He knows you guys have run checks on all the guests, and will be doing tight security screenings at the door. And he still chose to do this here and now. Which means he must have thought of something we haven’t.”

Sean scratched his cheek. “Sebastian…”

Bas shook his head. “I don’t wanna hear it. I appreciate the effort you’re putting in on this, Sean, but you know it’s true. I know it’s true. No matter how much smoke you try to blow at us.”

To Drew’s surprise, Sean grimaced and nodded slowly. “You’re right, Bas. You’re absolutely right. And yet, this is the best plan because it’s the only plan.” He shrugged. “You can still back out.”

Bas squeezed Drew’s hand more tightly and turned his gaze back out the window.

Sean took this as the silent capitulation it was. “Alright, then. We’re pulling into the covered parking area as we speak. This is the spot where our position is weakest, and the time when everyone needs to be on high alert. Listen to the agents and stay vigilant.”

He turned around and was out of the passenger door practically before they’d come to a complete stop. A second later, he was opening the rear door and ushering them out into the cold, damp night.

Bas emerged first. An agent dressed in a tux came forward to usher him inside, but he hung back, holding out his hand for Drew.

Drew shook his head, even as his heart soared. Trust Bas to defy orders in the most romantic way possible.

He gave Sebastian his hand, gripping it tightly, and walked quickly into the lobby of the hotel - a large atrium twenty-seven stories tall, ringed on all sides by walkways that overlooked the space below.

Even to Drew’s untrained eye, this situation appeared incredibly unsafe. He held his breath as Cain and Damon were ushered inside, followed by Cam and Cort, and the agents tasked with shepherding them to the function room formed a loose ring around them, two women dressed in simple but elegant gowns, and four men in black tie. The twelve of them moved together, spread out just far enough that they didn’t attract much notice from the other guests, but close enough that no one else could approach them.

When they made it to the relative safety of the ballroom on the far side of the lobby - a place with a ceiling, granting them safety from above, if nothing else - Drew breathed a sigh of relief.

And then, as his heart rate began to settle, he noticed dozens of eyes turning in his direction, watching him enter the room.

No, he realized, recognizing the direction of their collective stares. Not watching me. Watching us. They were focused on Bas’s hand clasped around his.

Drew swallowed and glanced at Sebastian. He seemed wholly unaware of the gazes focused on them, and he probably was. His mouth was turned up in a polite smile, his posture relaxed. Only someone who had studied his face since childhood would have recognized the slight tension in his jaw, the squeeze of his hand, that indicated Sebastian was not nearly as laid-back as he appeared. Nor was he likely to relax at all until Alexei was in prison. Not unless Drew stepped in.

Drew stroked the inside of Bas’s wrist with his thumb, and Bas turned to look at him.

“You know, it’s not exactly a high school cafeteria,” Drew began. “But it’s pretty close.”

It was a sign of just how distracted Bas was that it took him a few seconds to catch on. But when he did, he smiled - small, but intimate and real - and turned to face Drew, bracing a hand on his waist.

“Drew McMann,” he said, batting his eyelashes. “Will you go steady with me?”

Drew snorted - the least-elegant noise he’d ever made in his life - and he could only be glad that he’d convinced his mother to miss tonight’s gala for safety reasons, or else he’d never live it down. He shook his head. “Sebastian Seaver, you are murder on my reputation.”

Bas pulled him a fraction of an inch closer - not nearly as close as either of them would have liked - and bit his lip. “Nonsense,” he said. “I’m trying to make an honest man of you.”

Drew ran his tongue over his teeth. “Ask me again when this is over and I might let you.”

Whatever reply Bas was about to make was cut off as one of Cort’s friends, Agent Carl Derrick, approached them in his waiter garb wearing a faint scowl.

“Sirs, if you need a drink, you can find one on the perimeter of the room,” he told them, his eyes all but flashing the words Stick to the plan.

Oops.

Bas cleared his throat. “Right, yes. Excellent.”

From behind them, they heard Cam snicker. “Bas is the first one to forget the plan. Raise your hand if you’re surprised. Anyone? Anyone? No? Me neither.”

Bas shot a narrow-eyed glare over his shoulder. “Is it past your bedtime, Camden?”

“Let’s move it along,” Damon groused, moving forward with his arm around Cain’s waist. “Sooner we get to the table, the sooner we can fucking leave.”

Drew and Cort exchanged a glance. Not quite how it would work, and Damon knew it, but neither of them wanted to remind him of that fact. They’d be in this ballroom until Alexei made his move, or the party came to a peaceful end… and he wasn’t sure which outcome he was hoping for.

They strolled around the outside of the room, looking at the items that had been donated for auction. Golf lessons with a PGA champion, a brand-new Jaguar, a one-week rental of a house with ocean views in Ogunquit, Maine. Drew stopped to look at that one, transfixed by the pictures of the pounding surf on the jetties, and before he knew it, Bas was making an offer that was double the retail price.

“What was that?” Drew demanded. “Thirty thousand dollars for…”

“That was me, planning for our future,” Bas said firmly. Drew shut his mouth without another word and clasped Sebastian’s hand more tightly.

They had nearly completed the circuit of the room when Lydia Tyndall approached them.

“Well! If it isn’t the handsomest group of men in the whole room. Sebastian, Drew, Camden… and Camden’s young man! Oh, and Cain, you look so distinguished.” She stepped forward to exchange kisses with everyone except Damon, who she regarded with unconcealed curiosity. “And who might you be?”

Damon looked at Cain, who grinned proudly. “He’s my partner, Damon Fitzpatrick,” Cain said.

“Oh, the young man mentioned in the Herald article.” Lydia gave him an appraising look, then nodded. “I approve,” she said.

If Damon was surprised to be called a young man, or to have earned the approval of a woman he’d never met, he didn’t show it. He simply returned her nod and smiled with unusual restraint.

Drew coughed into his fist to cover his laugh. Love made people do the strangest things.

A waiter, likely another FBI agent in disguise, approached with an offer to help them find their tables, reminding them pointedly that dinner was about to be served. They said goodbye to Lydia and shuffled off to their table at the back. Drew had to admit that he felt somewhat relieved as they took their seats. They might be no safer when seated, but he felt less like an open target.

Drew’s phone vibrated in his pocket just as the first course was served. He panicked for half a second, before realizing that if he was the only one receiving a call, it was unlikely to be related to Alexei. As he took it out to glance at the screen, Bas leaned over to read with him.

“Gary,” Drew told him. “No message.”

Bas rolled his eyes. “Was it unclear earlier today that you and I are together and he has no shot?”

“Hmm. Yeah, the lap-sitting was kind of ambiguous. Maybe next time you need to pee in a circle around me or something.”

Bas rolled his eyes, but his lips quirked. “Whatever. Call him back.”

“Now? At the table? That would be rude. And I can’t leave. I’ll text him.”

“Fuck rude. Call him. Maybe he has more information to give us. Maybe Ilya’s changed his mind and we can all go home.”

“Yeah, right.” Anyone who’d seen the man’s eyes earlier today knew that wasn’t going to happen, but Drew called Gary back anyway.

“Hey. We’re at the auction,” he whispered the second the call was engaged, not waiting for Gary to say hello.

Which was fine, because Gary seemed to have no time for politeness. “Have you seen Ilya?”

“Seen him?” Drew glanced around the room involuntarily. “Of course not. Why would I?”

“Because he’s missing,” Gary said frantically. “He was supposed to call me this evening when Alexei left. He’d been working on his lieutenants all day, making sure that none of the guys who were loyal to him accompanied Alexei tonight. Now he’s not answering his phone.”

“Don’t panic. That could mean a lot of things,” Drew said in his most soothing voice, but inside his mind alarm bells were ringing.

“Find someone,” he mouthed to Cort. “Get Sean.”

Cort blinked, then looked around the room for one of the FBI agents. Spying someone he recognized, he stood up and hurried off.

“I should go with him,” Cam said, but Damon held him down with a hand on his forearm. “Not a chance, Cam.”

“That’s not the worst part, Drew,” Gary said in his ear. “Ilya’s nephew Dima — I mean, Dmitri — the one he mentioned today?”

“Yeah?”

“He just called me from the fucking hospital. Alexei beat the shit out of him, broke his arm in three places, dislocated his shoulder and his jaw. He can barely talk, but he called me,” Gary repeated, his voice shaking. “Because he wanted me to find his uncle. And because… because he’s pretty sure Alexei has a bomb.”

Drew’s entire body flushed cold in the space of an instant. He looked up and saw the room, the loud and claustrophobic buzz of conversation and pressed bodies, in a whole different light. They were all sitting ducks here. They always had been. If Alexei had a bomb, it could be anywhere in this room.

Anywhere.

How long would it take to evacuate the guests? Lydia Tyndall, with her brash humor and kind eyes, all the other men and women picking at their salads and talking about their New Year’s resolutions, never dreaming —.

“Drew? McMann, are you there?” Gary demanded.

Drew didn’t answer. Couldn’t. The buzzing in his ears was growing louder, the amorphous anxiety that had been weighing on him all night had just been given a very real and credible focus, and panic threatened to swamp him. Controlled, rational Drew was gone.

The men around the table - his friends, his family - stared at him. Concern was etched on their faces, but he had no idea what to tell them. He’d agreed to this plan tonight. Hell, he’d encouraged it - disregarding Damon and Cort’s objections, talking Sebastian out of his objections. And now…

Now…

He’d pay the price for always thinking he knew best.

He looked at Bas and swallowed, his eyes filling with tears he couldn’t hide.

“What is it?” Bas demanded. He wrapped one large palm around the back of Drew’s neck. “Tell me.” But Drew could only shake his head.

Cort returned to the table with Sean Cook in tow, and Drew passed over the phone without a word.

Sean took one look at Drew’s face and grabbed the device from his nerveless fingers. “Sean Cook.” He listened for a moment, his face an impassive mask. “How sure are you?” Whatever Gary said made Sean’s jaw clench. “Do you have any specifics?”

Cort watched his former boss with a growing sense of horror. Though Sean’s reaction was outwardly calm, apparently Cort could read his tells the way Drew could read Sebastian’s. He wrapped an arm around Cam’s shoulders and pulled him closer, practically yanking him out of his chair, though Cam didn’t protest.

“Drew, what’s going on?” Cort asked, his voice a rumble of sound barely audible across the table.

Drew inhaled a breath and mouthed a single word. “Bomb.”

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Damon said, his eyes wheeling around the room. Like Drew, he seemed torn between getting to his feet and causing a panic, and sitting down to wait for Sean’s command, which felt infinitely riskier.

Sebastian gripped Drew’s hand so tightly Drew thought he might lose circulation, but he didn’t protest, he just tightened his own grip.

Sean waved Cort in the direction of the waiters serving meals. “Get Nat and Derrick,” he whispered.

Cort hesitated, clearly loathe to leave Camden behind. In the end, he didn’t need to, since Natalie Marquez appeared at just that moment in her tuxedo waitstaff uniform.

“What’s happening?” she asked. “You guys are about as subtle as a three-legged elephant.”

Sean beckoned her closer and whispered in her ear. Her eyes grew large. “But boss, we swept this place. That should be impossible.”

“Stand by, Mr. North. I’ll be sending a team to take you into protective custody just as a precaution,” Sean said into the phone before disconnecting the call. To Natalie, he said, “Yeah, we did. But I’m not taking any chances. We need to evacuate. Someone’s reported a gas leak. Get on your comms and alert the team. Have Derrick call it in and get us back-up. Hear me? We’re gonna do this nice and orderly.”

“And these guys?” Nat looked at them and hesitated. “This could all be part of a plan to get them out of a secured room and on the move.”

“I know,” Sean said grimly. “You and I are going to take care of these guys ourselves. Now get moving, and then get back here for Plan B.”

She nodded once, tapping her earpiece to sound the alert even as she jogged off to find Derrick.

“Okay, listen up,” Sean told them, drawing their undivided attention. “We have a contingency for this. I didn’t think we’d need one,” he admitted. “Bombings have never been Alexei’s MO, but we went over the room shortly before the auction began anyway, and we’ve scanned most of the guests. Still, it’s possible something slipped through. So. Simply out of an abundance of caution, we’re going to take you down the hall to the monitoring room and hang out there until we can sweep the room and confirm it’s clean.”

Drew heard Sean’s comforting words, but he knew better than anyone that words were only part of the story, and the disquiet in Sean’s eyes was more telling than any of his platitudes. This wasn’t expected. And it was very likely real.

Nat returned to their table. “All set.”

Sean nodded. “Out we go. Marquez, give Cort your backup weapon,” he instructed. “Just in case.”

Natalie bent over and pulled up her pant leg, retrieving a small-caliber pistol from a holster attached to her calf. “Be gentle with her,” she told Cort.

Cort seemed to relax somewhat once he had the weapon in his hand, and Drew was bizarrely jealous. He didn’t have the first clue how to shoot, but he wanted to be doing something active, rather than waiting politely for death to find them and rip Sebastian away as it had Amy and the Seavers.

“Let’s go,” he said, jumping to his feet, his hand still firmly locked with Sebastian’s. He couldn’t wait around another second.

“Follow me,” Sean said.

Behind him, Drew could hear the murmurs and shocked gasps of the other party attendees as they were informed of the gas leak. Panic seemed to grip the whole room at the same time, as the people who hadn’t been informed of the leak yet jumped from their seats to follow those who were obviously evacuating.

“Oh my God! Is it a bomb?” a feminine voice yelled.

“It’s a terrorist!” someone else screamed.

Sean led them out into the hall and toward the back of the building at the very moment that the fleeing revelers began streaming out of the room and heading back toward the lobby. No one seemed to notice their small party heading in the opposite direction.

Two twists down the back hallway, and they reached a door labeled Janitorial Supplies. Sean touched his earpiece and murmured something Drew couldn’t hear. The door opened a second later by a gray-haired woman wearing a pantsuit.

“In,” she said, her eyes on the hall as she ushered them into a tiny room, barely big enough for the six of them to stand in. There was a bank of laptops set up on a folding table against one wall, and rows of monitors tapped into the various security cameras stationed around the premises.

“I’m Deb Gutierrez,” the woman said as she closed the door and locked it behind her. “We’ve got the situation under control, boss.” She nodded firmly in Sean’s direction.

“Pull up the cameras from the auction room,” he told her, and she tapped at the keyboard until three separate views of the ballroom appeared on screen. They watched the empty room for a moment as a team of men entered the room and fanned out.”

“Bomb disposal is on the scene,” Sean narrated.

Sebastian wrapped his arms around Drew from behind, pulling Drew back against his chest. “We’re safe now,” he whispered.

And Drew nodded past the tightness in his chest. They should be safe in here, with weapons and trained agents all around them. He tried to force air into his lungs.

For several tense moments, they watched the disposal team in their padded suits as they walked around the auction room. And then one of the men stopped at the table directly next to the table where his family had been sitting and looked beneath it. He motioned frantically to another person, who came rushing over, and the two had a brief consultation, while Bas’s arms squeezed him tighter.

“Looks like they found something,” Sean said, equal parts resigned and incredulous. “They’ll dismantle it.”

Drew turned around and buried his face in Bas’s neck, inhaling the comforting scent of bay leaves and spice. There had been a bomb. It was a relief and a nightmare brought to life, all at once. Thank God they’d found it, but Drew still couldn’t fully process the danger they’d been in.

Sebastian ran a hand up his back, and it was warm, even through the tuxedo jacket.

“I love you,” Drew said, overwhelmed with relief because he’d gotten another chance to say those words. He would say them over and over and over.

“Yeah, it’s Cook. Go ahead,” Sean said into his earpiece.

Bas’s mouth caressed his temple. Somewhere to one side, he could almost swear he heard a sniffle, followed by the rough rumble of Damon’s voice. He tuned out everything but Sebastian.

“Oh, Jesus. Yeah, I’m seeing it,” Sean said, and Drew twisted his head to look at the monitor. Off to the side of the auction room, something had caught on fire. Thick gray smoke roiled around the room, and the sprinklers turned on.

“Yeah,” Sean continued. “Okay, yes, I’m on my way. No, hold off until I arrive! I wanna see this bastard’s face when we take him down.”

“Looks like there was a small incendiary device in addition to the bomb we found,” Sean told them. He waved his hand to the ceiling. “Idiot didn’t realize the place is covered in sprinklers! Anyway, remote detonators on both devices, and we traced the mobile phone used to detonate those bombs to the roof of the Parkside across the street. You guys?” he said, his words tight with tension. “We’ve got him. And now I’m gonna go seal the deal.”

Drew sensed Bas’s arms tightening around him, felt Bas’s hot breath against his ear whispering sweet, filthy words, though he could barely hear them. He pressed his eyes closed and thanked God that it was all over.

“Open the door, Deb,” Sean said, strapping a vest over his tuxedo like James Bond in Kevlar. “Then lock it behind me, and no one leaves until we clear the scene. I’m meeting up with the team across the street and Alexei and I are going to have a little chat.” He smiled at the others. “Firefighters are on the scene to help the bomb unit finish clearing the place. You wait here and I’ll text you a picture of his pretty face when I’ve read him his rights, okay?”

“Yeah,” Drew said. “That’s more than okay.”