Drew ignored the phone chiming on the counter and instead concentrated on measuring coffee into the coffee maker - one, two, three. It was surprisingly difficult.

Or maybe not surprising.

He hadn’t been able to focus on one damn thing all day yesterday either, fucking up practically every piece of paperwork he’d touched until Peter had - politely and respectfully, of course - told him not to send another email or sign a single document until after the holiday weekend, when he’d hopefully be “better rested.”

He didn’t have the heart to tell Peter that all the sleep in the world wasn’t going to solve Drew’s problem, not when his brain kept replaying Thursday night’s frantic make-out session on a constant loop until he could practically feel the weight of Bas’s lips on his, the slide of Bas’s fingers on his skin.

And now he’d fucking lost count of the coffee again.

“Fuck!” He slapped the countertop hard enough to make his hand sting, then dumped the filter out and started over.

Bas would arrive any minute now and Drew was dreading it. Yesterday it had been Drew locking himself in his office and actively avoiding any possibility of confrontation, like the world’s biggest hypocrite. He was annoyed with himself.

It wasn’t like him to be a coward, but honest to God, the things Bas had said the other night were things Drew had only ever dreamed of hearing him say. It was all too good to be true, and he couldn’t help worrying about when it would all go bad. Past experience had shown him that.

Drew didn’t believe for a second that Bas had any idea what he really wanted in this situation. And after they’d kissed more, after they’d slept together, or dated for a week or two, and then broke up? They’d never be friends again. The dead radio silence of the past month had been painful, but it would be nothing compared to the nuclear-winter-agony of losing Bas for good.

Getting involved with Bas romantically was beyond risky. And anyone who knew Drew could say with confidence that he was risk-averse.

His damn phone chimed on the counter, and Bas dusted his hands on his jeans before grabbing it, hoping and fearing that it was something from Sebastian… but no.

Mark. Again. Texting about their date tonight.

Hey, you! You didn’t reply earlier. Excited for later?

Drew sighed and rolled his eyes. Excited in a dreading sort of way, maybe.

He felt slightly guilty for feeling that way, but he’d already figured out yesterday, after a bunch of back-and-forth texts, that he and Mark were not going to work out. They shared a bunch of interests, sure, but the guy’s endless compliments were borderline-creepy, and his neediness would drive Drew crazy in a heartbeat.

“You didn’t reply earlier?” the man had said? Seriously? It had been twenty minutes for God’s sake, and Drew had a life of his own and a crisis to focus on.

But, it was too late to cancel without being insanely rude. And maybe, just maybe, it was a step he needed to take if he wanted to get the distance and perspective he needed to figure out what to do with Bas.

Busy morning. Yes, looking forward to tonight. 6:30 at West Kitchen.

It was perfect timing, since it meant their meeting today couldn’t go too late, and he would have the perfect excuse not to chat with Sebastian afterward.

Oh, the hypocrisy.

He tossed his phone down on the counter and opened a glass-fronted cabinet to take down a set of red ceramic mugs.

Mark texted again a second later. Annoying, since Drew had pretty much finished with this conversation.

I can’t wait. I think I’m going to wear green, in case you wanted to coordinate. What are you doing this afternoon? There’s a seminar on Biodiversity in Fruit Trees at the Museum of Natural History that I’m thinking of attending if you’re interested.

Drew rubbed away the beginning of an ache in the center of his forehead. Jesus. Bas made fun of his old-man radio stations, but this was a whole other level. He tried to keep the snark out of his text as he replied, That sounds very educational. Sorry to miss it, but I’m afraid I have plans. Enjoy!

A second later, Mark’s answer came with a picture of his dog attached. I’ll take notes and share them with you later! Felix says hi!

Felix looked like he was asleep on a white carpet in a pool of winter sunshine and could give a shit about what Mark or his texts. Drew felt like he and Felix might be kindred spirits in this.

The second batch of chocolate-chocolate chip muffins was cooling on the counter a little while later when the doorbell rang, and he opened his front door expecting Cam, Cort, Damon, or Cain - someone who didn’t have a key to his house.

Instead Sebastian stood on the front stoop, looking hot as hell in worn jeans and a thick knit sweater, a white paper bag dangling from his wrist and a polite, distant smile on his face.

“Hey,” Drew said, his throat suddenly dry for a lot of reasons. “Forgot your key?”

“No, I have it.”

Drew blinked, something cold slithering through his stomach at the tightness in Bas’s voice, the thin thread of hurt Drew could feel there, but he nodded and stepped back, letting Sebastian pass.

“You’re, uh, the first one here,” Drew said lamely, following Bas to the kitchen.

“Figured. No other cars in the driveway.” Bas put the bag on the counter and started removing boxes stamped with the name of their favorite bakery.

“Panaderia Pascal?”

“Yep.” Bas didn’t pause or look up, but the muscles of his back were visibly tight beneath his sweater. “Figured you were right about me baking a cake.” His voice was flat. “I don’t do so well with following rules. So.”

Drew closed his eyes. Had he wounded Sebastian’s pride by rejecting him? For the umpteenth time, he berated himself for the drunken idiocy that had started them down this road. “Sebastian, listen, I didn’t want…”

“No, it’s cool,” Bas said, holding up a hand. “We don’t need to rehash anything. You made your feelings pretty clear the other night. You want to be friends. I respect that.”

I made my feelings clear? Drew almost laughed. In that case, he kinda wished Bas would explain them to him, because Drew couldn’t say what he was feeling, except unsure, guilty, and a little bit nauseous.

“It’s just that you mean more to me than anyone, and I—” Drew threw his hands up in the air, lost.

Bas grinned at Drew’s eloquence, and though the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes, it was a start. “Nah. It’s fine. You were right.”

“I was?” Of course he was. And of course Bas had realized it. Drew ignored his racing heart.

“I’ve hurt you a lot. So we’ll chill for now. Be friends. See how things go. And focus on SILA, getting justice for my parents and Amy.”

“Right,” Drew agreed, though his voice sounded hollow to his own ears. “We can… chill.”

“So, you have a particular plate you want me to put these sweet rolls on, Martha?”

Drew cleared his throat. “Ah, anything in the cabinet to the right of the fridge.” The doorbell rang again. “Cavalry’s here.”

But Bas was busy looking in the cabinet and didn’t turn around as Drew left the room.

He desperately wanted to tell whoever was on the other side to go the fuck away, and then sit down with Bas so they could eat and talk and laugh, and get back to normal. Fuck, but he was tired of dealing with this bullshit. Evil politicians who betrayed their friends, Russian mobsters who’d killed people they loved and could come after them at any moment. He wanted to scream.

Drew took a deep breath to collect himself before answering the door. He was being irrational, yeah. He fucking knew it. And he knew it wasn’t going to get him anywhere, either. But the section of his brain where his calm, logical center lived - the part he’d relied on for years - seemed to be stubbornly silent this morning. Control Freak Drew, where did you go?

“Hey,” he said, opening the door to Cam, who carried a platter of something that smelled deliciously of onions and herbs, and Cort, who had his arm wrapped around his boyfriend’s waist and appeared half-asleep. “Come in.”

“Sorry we’re late,” Cam said, stepping inside. “This one was up until all hours working on a security issue.”

“You’re fine. Cain and Damon aren’t here yet.” But he stopped when he saw Damon’s beaten-up truck pull into the driveway, and traded a grin with Cort as he passed by. “Never mind.”

Cain hopped down from the passenger’s seat, cradling a plastic container, and waited for Damon to make his way around the front of the cab. Damon’s leg, which had been injured in the plane crash and then again as he and Cain ran from some of Alexei’s thugs a month ago, had healed significantly, but he still walked with a noticeable limp. That didn’t stop him from grabbing the container from Cain’s arms and holding it aloft as they made their way down the walkway, despite Cain’s attempts to jump up and snatch it back.

“Morning, Drew,” Cain said, pointing at the container. “We brought cookies.”

“McMann,” Damon greeted Drew, his voice sandpaper-rough as always. “I’ll have you know, my sister and niece baked these cookies and sent them to us. I’m bringing them under duress.” He turned his head to glare at Cain.

Cain glared right back, folding his arms across his chest. “He has three dozen more back at our apartment,” he told Drew, rolling his eyes. “And he’s already eaten two dozen in the last two days. He’s going to be the size of a house if he doesn’t learn to share.”

“He’s mad because I ate the last macadamia one last night,” Damon confided.

“Yes! Because you knew they were my favorite!”

Damon smirked at Drew and handed Cain the container. “Which is why I put a couple in the freezer for you, kid.”

Cain’s narrow-eyed expression, a combination of outrage, amusement, and absolute love, made Drew’s heart twist with want. “You were holding out on me?”

Damon shrugged at his boyfriend as they walked in the door, eyes glinting. “A little denial is good for the character.”

“Hmm.” Cain said, squeezing past Damon to head to the kitchen. He turned his head to smirk back over his shoulder. “We’ll see how you feel about denial when you’re on the receiving end.”

Damon blinked. “But…I saved you cookies!” he yelled as Cain disappeared.

Drew shook his head. “Come on,” he said, giving Damon a consoling pat on the back.

The others were already arranged around the huge farmhouse table that took up one side of Drew’s kitchen, and someone - likely Sebastian - had arranged platters of food and a carafe of coffee in the center.

“Thanks,” Drew told Bas, nodding at the table as he took the end seat.

“Yeah, sure,” Bas said. He was looking at Drew strangely.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just found…” A phone chimed, and Bas shook his head, fishing his phone out of his pocket to check his messages.

Another day, another interruption.

“Okay, first things first,” Cort said from the far end of the table, where he was seated between Cam and Damon. “I think we need to make notes. Kinda consolidate everything we know right now in one spot.” He grabbed a muffin from the platter. “And we can share the info with Sean Cook, my old boss at the FBI.”

Up and down the table, heads nodded as everyone filled their plates with food. Drew stood and grabbed his tablet from the counter, along with his phone. “Okay, I’ll make notes.”

He resumed his seat, and saw that Bas was scowling at his phone, typing away.

“I was thinking pencil and paper,” Cort sighed, his hatred of technology clear. “But whatever. Let’s go through everything we know starting with the crash?”

“I think we should start chronologically,” Drew suggested. “From back in the last millennium, when SILA first started working with Seaver.”

“That makes the most sense,” Cain agreed. “According to my father, their association started back before Seaver Tech was even officially founded. Levi had ideas, but no capital, and Ilya Stornovich offered Levi and my father the money to start the company, at a pretty high interest rate.”

“Loan sharks,” Cam said dourly.

“Essentially,” Cain agreed. “But Seaver Tech never had a problem making the payments. They were successful right out of the gate, and paid back the initial loan quickly.”

“And in the meantime, SILA grew. The little neighborhood crime gang Ilya Stornovich founded became a huge regional crime organization,” Sebastian said.

Damon snickered and Drew glanced up. “It’s just… the parallel is strange, isn’t it? His business grew just like Seaver Tech grew, successful from the start.”

“If you’re making comparisons between my father and Ilya Stornovich,” Bas said heatedly, but Drew held up a placating hand.

“Nobody is doing that, Bas. Your dad made the choices he made - choices that Senator Shaw and my own dad were complicit in, by the way, so no one here is casting stones - because he wanted to build something for his family. In his own way, that’s what Ilya did, too.”

Bas’s nostrils flared and he folded his arms across his chest.

“Anyway, yes. Ilya grew his business,” Drew said as he typed. “And then he retired and left it to his son.”

“Alexei,” Cam spat. “Who wasn’t content with having the loan repaid in full. He decided he wanted to extort my dad, get him to provide technology.”

“Which he did, if we believe Uncle- I mean, Senator Shaw.” Bas’s voice was heavy, resigned, and so fucking weary. “I wish I knew exactly what he gave them. Projects he worked on for other clients? Or new tech they wanted developed? It’s almost impossible. If dad kept files on this stuff, I can’t find them anywhere.”

“Would they be paper files?” Cort asked, somewhat hopefully.

Cam patted him on the knee. “No, baby. My dad was a tech guy. He didn’t do paper and pen if he could help it.”

Bas’s phone chimed again, and he scowled as he retrieved it.

“Everything okay?” Drew leaned over to whisper, nodding at Bas’s phone.

“Nothing to worry about now.” He set his phone face-down, and shook his head, refocusing on the conversation.

“I can ask my father,” Cain was saying, looking at Damon. “See if he remembers any names?”

“You want to do that?” Damon wrapped a supportive hand around the back of Cain’s neck, and Cain nodded.

“I think I should.” He looked up and down the table. “I talked to my parents at Christmas. Things aren’t great, especially with my mom. I don’t think she’ll ever forgive me for coming out publicly and ruining her standing with her lunch club.” He sighed. “But my dad is trying. He… I don’t know how to feel about it.” Cain spread his hands in front of him, almost a pleading gesture. “He’s a criminal. He killed people. You know? I don’t know how to forgive him for that, or how he can make amends.”

Bas sighed. “Cain, I’m the first person to tell you, your dad is a criminal. And he deserves to be punished for what he did. But, hey, seems like my dad was, too, huh?” He gave a half-laugh and shook his head. “Point is, no one can tell you how you’re supposed to feel about it. It’s fine to be confused. And it’s fine to forgive him, if that’s how you feel.”

“Yeah?” Cain whispered.

“Yeah.” Bas cleared his throat. “You need to make your own right path - one that’s true to who you are. And trying to love people, trying to forgive them for being blind and stupid, that’s generally always the right way. I don’t always get there, myself, but… if you can, go for it.”

Drew looked up from his tablet and stared at Bas, stunned.

“What?” Bas demanded.

“Nothing.” Drew shook his head, even as his chest warmed with pride and… yeah, fuck it, love. “That was just… really profound.”

“Yeah, well, every once in a while I get something right. Don’t look so shocked.” Bas rolled his eyes, and Drew ducked his head as he smiled, afraid of what Bas might see if he looked too closely.

“Okay,” Damon said. “So Cain will talk to his dad about projects. What’s next in our timeline?”

“Next is that my dad said no,” Cam said, a note of pride in his voice. “For whatever reason, he got fed up and didn’t want to give them information anymore.”

“And Alexei didn’t take too kindly to that, because he’s a miniature despot who trusts no one.” Drew filled them in on everything they’d learned about Alexei from Gary. “So he forced Senator Shaw’s hand and had him arrange for the Seavers’ plane to crash.”

“Which I don’t get,” Damon interjected. “He’s a man with a hundred henchmen on his payroll. Why get the senator involved at all?”

“Leverage,” Cort answered. “If Alexei’s men did it, the senator could get all remorseful at any point and blow the whistle. This way, Shaw can’t come clean without implicating himself.”

Bas laid his hand on the tabletop, his fingers clenched into a fist. “Such a fucking prick.”

“He really is,” Drew agreed.

“And so, the senator had his assistant Jack Peabody sabotage Damon’s plane, causing the crash,” Cam continued.

“And I survived, much to everyone’s amazement,” Damon interjected.

“But the others didn’t.” Bas stared at his fingers, and Drew couldn’t help lifting a comforting hand to his shoulder.

“I figured out Jack was involved, and we confronted him. He told us he’d taken orders from the senator and was arrested, but never made it to trial.” Damon’s jaw tensed. “Because he was killed in prison.”

“Which my dad claims he had nothing to do with,” Cain reminded them all with a shrug. “According to him, that was all on Alexei.”

“Figures,” Drew said. “And then you and Damon confronted your father, who explained that he’d only gone through with it because Alexei was threatening your family. Is that pretty much all we know?”

They all nodded.

“Is there a way we can leverage what you just told us about Alexei’s lieutenants being unhappy with him?” Cort’s eyes were narrowed in thought.

“I don’t know.” Drew shrugged. “Not without names, and Gary didn’t feel like he could share.”

“What about their side businesses? ID fraud and all that,” Cort wondered. “Could we nab him on a lesser charge?”

“Get a murderer on ID fraud?” Damon asked dubiously.

“Remember they got Al Capone on tax evasion,” Cort reminded his brother. “Stranger things have happened.”

“It could work.” Drew looked at Bas, who was scowling at his screen. “What do you think?”

Bas looked up from his phone, startled. “Huh? I’m sorry. What were you saying?”

“That maybe we could get Alexei on ID fraud, if we can’t bring him down on something bigger.”

“No.” Bas shook his head, putting his phone down. “In fact, fuck no. I don’t want to get Alexei on ID fraud, or possession of drugs, or jaywalking, or whatever misdemeanor we can come up with. I want to get him on murder. He had my parents killed, Drew. He had your sister killed. He needs to answer for that. Anything else is unacceptable.”

Drew sighed. “Sebastian, if we can do that, we will, but isn’t it more important to remove him from power and stop him from killing anyone else?”

“No! I mean, yeah, that’s important, but getting him on ID fraud… that’s a stopgap, and not a guarantee that he’ll even see prison. Besides, how the hell are we even going to do that much?” he demanded, glaring at each person around the table in turn.

“I agree,” Damon said. “He ruined my life…” He glanced at Cain, and his expression softened as he stroked the column of Cain’s neck with his thumb. “Or he tried damn hard to, anyway. I want him to pay for that.”

“That would mean my dad coming forward and going to prison,” Cain said woodenly. “He’d have to confess and, as much as he’s trying to be helpful now, I don’t see that happening.”

“I just want this to be over.” Cam crossed his arms and stared around the table. “I want to know that no one is coming after us. Will getting them on ID fraud be enough to ensure that?” he asked Cort.

Cort grimaced and shook his head. “I don’t know, babe. It would depend on whether someone pleads out, and how generous the prosecutor is being. I still have a lot of friends in the FBI, but investigators don’t have the final say on plea deals. If a prosecutor feels like they could turn Alexei? Use him to get a RICO charge on another organization, or hunt down an even bigger fish…”

“He wouldn’t spend a minute in an orange jumpsuit,” Bas growled.

“I still say it’s worth pursuing,” Drew insisted. “I mean, if we could get information from Gary on just that aspect of the organization - just finding a couple of fake IDs that were used or whatever, maybe we could…”

“Could what? Is that going to dismantle SILA?” Bas demanded as his phone chimed again. He glanced at the screen and swore under his breath.

“What’s going on?” Drew demanded.

“I told you, it’s nothing.” He caught Drew’s glare and sighed in frustration. “Nothing pertinent, okay? Just that asshole who’s been emailing me at work. Michael Paterkin.”

Drew narrowed his eyes, trying to recall the name. “Wait, is that the guy who was sending you weird emails insisting you get him a job?”

“Yeah, said he worked with my dad. Well, he’s gone from insisting to threatening. Not a big deal, just annoying.”

“Threatening?” Cort said, his gaze sharp. “Explain.”

“Not threatening like he’s going to kill me. Just obviously pissed off. A crackpot. It’s noth—.”

“Don’t say it’s nothing, Sebastian. Remember this is my job, yeah? Head of security for your company?” Cort reminded him mildly.

“What idiot promoted you to that position?” Bas demanded, rolling his eyes.

Since everyone knew that Sebastian had created the position for Cort himself, Cort didn’t bother to dignify this with a response.

“Hand me the phone,” he demanded, and Bas passed it down with a mighty sigh.

“My dearest Mr. Seaver,” Cort read aloud. He glanced up and down the table. “Anyone else creeped out already?”

Cam snorted and leaned in, putting a hand on Cort’s thigh. “Keep reading.”

“I am sure you have received my several recent messages regarding a most important opportunity for us to work together, but I have to date not seen your reply.”

“It sounds like one of those Nigerian phishing scams,” Cain said, frowning. “Does he want your bank information?”

“It’s the English,” Cort mused. “A little bit stilted, the words out of order and way too formal. Ordinarily, I’d ignore it, but the dude goes on to say that he enjoyed working with your father many times in the past, and appreciated the brilliance of their work together on the Collier Project.” He glanced up at Bas. “Any idea what that is?”

“None.” Bas shrugged. “Must’ve been before my time.”

“Can we check out what it was?”

“Already on it, babe,” Cam said, typing out a message. “I’ll have Margaret look into it.”

“Okay, good,” Cort said. He frowned at Bas’s phone. “He says if he doesn’t hear back from you today to discuss the details, he’ll be ‘forced to take actions you would not enjoy.’”

“What the hell does that mean?” Drew demanded.

“It means he’s a lunatic who wants a job,” Bas insisted. “If I got agitated every time someone asked me for a handout, I’d already be dead of a heart attack. What’s he gonna do, really?”

Cort shook his head. “You might be right. It might be nothing. But it’s worth looking into. I think we need to play along with him and find out what the hell he wants before we dismiss him.” Cort handed the phone back to Bas. “Reply and ask him for more information.”

Bas flushed. “I, uh… I already sent him a reply.”

“Oh, lord.” Drew covered his face with his hand. Of course Bas had already replied, no doubt with his usual tact.

“I told him to fuck off and stop contacting me,” Bas admitted.

Worse than Drew had thought. Jesus.

Bas’s phone chimed again. “It’s from him.” He swiped his finger across the screen and looked at Cort, eyes worried, then read aloud. “Mr. Seaver, you remind me of your father. He, too, was an intelligent man who died for his arrogance. Thus far, I have attempted to be friendly and helpful. But in the end, you will come to me, offer to work with me, offer me anything I want. Indeed, you’ll be begging for my help. And please know, I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He swallowed hard. “It’s signed Michael Paterkin, but… Jesus, Cort, is that Alexei?”

Cort ran a hand through his mop of hair. “I don’t know.” His voice, usually so open and joking, had morphed into the cold, tightly-controlled voice of a trained operator, and that change more than the chilling words of the email, sent a chill up Drew’s spine. “I’m going to call Sean and have him run this guy’s name.” Cort stood up and walked into the living room, sliding his cell phone from his pocket.

Drew looked at Cain, Damon, and Cam in turn, and saw the same anxious resolve in their gazes that he imagined they’d see on his. Their peaceful interlude, thanks to Senator Shaw’s intervention, was over.

It was time to end this standoff for good, one way or another.

Taking a deep breath, Drew turned to look at the man on his left, who had hardly moved since he finished reading the email. Every muscle in Bas’s body was locked, from his jaw down to his torso. His phone was still clutched in his hand, and though the screen had turned black, he continued to stare at it with wary absorption, as though Alexei might appear on it at any moment. Drew was nearly afraid to touch him in case he shattered like glass, but he knew from experience that beneath the surface, that genius brain was whirling a mile a minute.

“Hey,” Drew whispered, sliding the phone from Bas’s hand and setting it on the table. He leaned closer, not quite whispering. “This is…” Going to be okay, he was about to say. But then, no one knew better than the men sitting around this table that there was no guarantee of that whatsoever. Too many lives had been lost and ruined thanks to Alexei Stornovich for Drew to spout platitudes. “This is exactly what we knew would happen. We are going to do everything we can to handle this. Together. Understand? You’re not alone. None of us are.”

For a moment, Drew thought Bas wouldn’t react, but eventually his gaze slid right, and those fiery blue eyes locked on Drew’s. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Bas nodded slowly and took a deep breath as Cort came back into the room.

“Cooksy’s running the name as we speak,” he said, coming to stand behind Cam’s chair so he could rest his hands on his boyfriend’s shoulders. “But he’s fairly confident, and so am I, that this is a threat from Alexei or someone who works for him.”

Drew inhaled sharply, lifting his chin to the ceiling at this confirmation. “So what do we do?”

“Well, the first step is that I’m meeting with him this afternoon to discuss the possibility of pursuing a lower-level investigation on Alexei. I know what you’re going to say,” he interrupted himself, holding up a palm toward Sebastian. “It’s not good enough. I know. But from everything Gary told you and Drew, Alexei’s grudges are his own. There’s every reason to believe that if we can take Alexei out, our dealings with SILA will be over and done with.” He glanced up and down the table. “I know just how much that asshole has cost every single person in this room. I know how badly you want to get justice for the people you loved.” He squeezed Cam’s shoulders. “And to get your fucking life back.” He nodded at Damon, who wrapped a shoulder around Cain and pulled the man practically into his lap. “But we need to consider the future.”

“Whose future?” Bas demanded.

“All of ours,” Cam said hotly, glaring at Bas. “What will it take to get justice for Mom and Dad and Amy? Is it worth sacrificing your life? Mine? Drew’s?”

Bas’s gaze shifted to Drew. He glanced away. “Fine.”

“Okay, good. Everyone needs to be extra cautious from now on,” Cort continued. “I’m doing updated background checks on all Seaver Tech personnel, and I’ll have a core group of guys I trust handle security for the building round the clock. But I’m more worried about personal safety.” He looked at Damon, Cain, Bas and Drew. “Those security systems we installed in everyone’s home are top-of-the-line, but it goes without saying that they only work when you use them.” He ran a hand over Cam’s hair. “Even when it’s the middle of the day, and the door is locked, and you’re wide awake.”

Cam blushed and glanced up. “It was one time, Kendrick.”

Cort stroked Cam’s cheek with a tenderness he didn’t often display in public. “One time too many, babe.”

Cam shut his eyes tightly and nodded.

“I don’t think any of us need to curtail activities right now - we can go to work, go to the grocery store, and continue our normal routines as much as possible. As long as Alexei thinks Bas is treating his email like a crackpot threat, he’ll think he has us at a disadvantage.” He looked around the table. “But we’ll need to be hyper aware. Better to pair off as much as possible, and not take any unnecessary risks.”

“That makes sense. Drew can stay at my place,” Bas said.

Drew’s eyes widened. Oh, the last thing they needed right now was proximity. There was no perspective in proximity. “Uh, no. I can’t.”

“Fine,” Bas conceded with a sigh. “We can stay at your house then. But the commute is gonna be…”

“I’m not living with you, Sebastian.” He turned to Cort. “I’m not living with him.”

“You’re joking!” Bas spluttered. “That’s ridiculous! You’ve slept at my house a hundred times. More! Christ. We’ve shared tents and fucking sleeping bags, McMann. We can share this house if it means keeping you safe!”

Cort frowned. “Bas is right. If you could…”

“I can’t.” His voice was loud and unequivocal, and maybe a tiny bit desperate.

“Uh. Okay, then,” Cort agreed, clearly surprised at Drew’s vehemence. Drew’s control-freak reputation was suffering hit after hit this week. “It’s less than ideal, but if that’s what you think you need to do…”

“It is,” Drew insisted. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Bas. He could feel surprised anger and hurt radiating off the man, and nearly wavered in his resolve.

“Fine. Sebastian, you can come and stay with your brother and me—?” Cort offered.

“No. It’s not me I’m fucking worried about!” The tension in Bas’s voice suggested he was two seconds away from meltdown, and Cam clearly recognized this.

“New Year’s Eve is tomorrow. I’m not sure what everyone has lined up, but maybe we need to cancel those plans,” he suggested. “You guys can come to our place and hang out, or everyone can stay home.”

“Great idea,” Cort said.

“We had no plans anyway,” Cain agreed.

“Speak for yourself,” Damon informed him, waggling his eyebrows. “I had lots of plans for you.”

Cain turned beet red and slapped a hand over his boyfriend’s mouth, but somehow reserved Damon had managed to cut the tension around the table, and everyone laughed.

Everyone except Bas.

“Stay with Cam and Cort tonight, then,” he told Drew, unable to let the subject drop. “Or Damon and Cain.”

Drew shook his head. “It’s not that I don’t want to stay with you in particular, Sebastian.” It was. It totally was. “I have…a thing.”

“A thing.” Sebastian’s voice was as icy-cold as the air outside, heavy as lead.

“A date thing. With Mark.” He looked at the others. “A guy I met a couple of months ago.”

Damon looked at Bas and winced, and Cam whispered, “Oh, Jesus,” under his breath.

“Not a big deal. I do date from time to time,” Drew said hotly. Though not recently, for damn sure.

Bas sucked in a breath through his nose. “You really think that’s wise?”

Drew’s neck muscles clenched as his temper soared. No, it wasn’t a fucking wise idea. It was an exercise in futility. Worst-case scenario, he was leading on a guy who already seemed way more interested in him than he would ever be in return. But he was scared. So damn scared that he would fuck up their friendship further if he stayed.

“It’s not up for discussion,” Drew said, still without looking at Bas. The tension between them was a thick cord, frayed and straining.

“Really? Because you just said not five minutes ago, that we were all going to stick together.”

Drew looked at Bas, shocked. “But I was talking about you going off doing…” He swallowed, and Bas nodded grimly.

“Doing stupid shit? Yeah. That’s exactly what this is about.” He ground his teeth together. “You’re like the one idiot in every horror movie who insists on going off on their own. People are covering their eyes and peeking through their fingers saying, ‘No, Drew! Don’t be a fucking idiot!’” Bas’s voice was high, mocking, then turned to a growl as he spat, “They should save their breath. Andrew McMann doesn’t need anyone’s advice! Christ, why would he when he already knows everything? He doesn’t need anyone to worry or give even that first shit about his welfare. He can run his life and yours. Hell, he even knows what you’re feeling better than you do.”

Drew’s stomach dropped. No, that wasn’t what he was doing! That was ridiculous!

Wasn’t it?

Bas stood, his chair squealing against the hardwood floor, and stared down at Drew so their gazes locked. His eyes were glazed over with a molten combination of anger and pain, and Drew was horrified to realize that he was the cause. “Isn’t that right, Drew?”

“No,” Drew whispered, his stomach churning. “I never said…”

“That’s right. You never said anything.” Bas pushed his chair in roughly, jostling the table, and the others sat back, silent. “For years, you said nothing. Your choice. Your terms. You always had to be in control… until that one time you weren’t.”

“Bas,” Damon said, a warning note in his rough voice, but Drew barely registered it. His throat was clogged with anger and tears, and he couldn’t think of a fucking thing to say. Bas was wrong, so wrong. Everything he’d ever done, every action and every conscious choice not to act, had been designed to preserve their friendship, for God’s sake.

He wet his lips. “And what happened then, Sebastian? I lost control one time… and then I lost you. For weeks you ignored me. Turned your back on me, easy as that. And I’m supposed to forget it just because you say so?”

“I was confused!” Bas yelled.

“Uh huh. And you had to solve your problem by yourself, didn’t you?” Drew stood, smacking his palm on the table. “You could have talked to me. I begged you to talk to me. Spiraling and spiraling, never letting anyone in. It’s all my fault,” Drew mocked, pressing the back of his wrist to his forehead. “I’m responsible for everything, and only my great genius can save us. But what did it solve, Sebastian? All that time in your little cave, searching for answers alone, and Alexei is still after us. All that time spiraling about Halloween, and you still don’t even know what you want! Not really.”

“It’s not me who’s scared, Drew. It’s not me who—”

“Whoa!” Cam interrupted. “Guys, seriously. If you’re talking about what I think you’re talking about…”

“Shut up, Camden,” Bas and Drew said in unison, their gazes still locked like dueling wands.

“Hey now,” Cort interjected. “This isn’t the time or the place. If you wanna flay the skin off each other, do it in private. And for Christ’s sake, don’t do it when we already have a fucking psychopath crime boss gunning for us!”

A muscle in Bas’s jaw flexed and finally, finally he looked away. “You’re right, Cortland. I don’t think I have anything more to say to Counselor McMann at all.” He grabbed his phone from the table and slid it back into his pocket, while Drew watched wordlessly, chest heaving. “You want company when you meet with Sean Cook? I can give him the names of the companies I got from Alexei’s server. Might do some good to someone, even if it’s not admissible evidence.”

Cort and Cam exchanged a glance. “Yeah,” Cort said. “That’d be good. You can drive us and Cam can take his car.”

“Actually, Cam, I have a gift card and I need to buy some…ah, video games?” Cain said, after a wordless communication with Damon. “Why don’t you come back to our place and you can help me teach Damon to play?” He shrugged. “Safer that way?”

Damon rolled his eyes, but stood and rounded the table to extend a hand to Cam. “Right. I just love me some video games. We can call it brother-in-law bonding.”

“Perfect.” Cam stood and kissed Cort soundly before following Cain and Damon to the hall.

Damon turned back before he’d gone two steps and walked back to the table to snatch up his tin of cookies. “Shame to waste them,” he told Drew with a wink and a one-shouldered shrug. “Take care, McMann.”

Drew nodded, the only response he was capable of.

“Cam, phone on at all times!” Cort called after them.

Cam turned to give his man a brilliant smile and a lazy salute. “Yes, sir.” He gave Drew an apologetic half-smile. “Thanks for the brunch, Drew!”

“Yeah, thanks for the brunch, Drew,” Bas said roughly, stalking his way around the table without a backwards glance. “Enjoy your date.”

Drew gripped the back of his chair so hard he wondered if he could crack the polished hardwood.

“Listen,” Cort began hesitantly when everyone else had left. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on with you two…”

“Join the club.” Drew huffed out a laugh. But then he shook his head. “That’s a lie. I know, I just don’t know what to say or do about it.”

“You’re a lawyer, McMann. You know how to talk your way out of a million scenarios.” Cort folded his arms over his chest and watched Drew steadily.

“Yeah? Well, not this one.”

“Then maybe…” Cort cleared his throat and winced. “Christ, I hate giving advice, but… If you don’t have anything to say, maybe you should start listening instead.”

Drew’s eyes met Cort’s green ones, surprised at the amount of sympathy that shone there.

“You love him,” Cort said. It wasn’t a question, and Drew didn’t pretend to misunderstand the context. Cort meant in love, far beyond friendship. Drew only hesitated a second before he nodded.

“For years.”

“Do you trust him?”

“Of course I do!” He grabbed plates of food from the table and moved them over to the island. “I’ve known him for decades. I’d trust him with my life. What kind of question is that?”

“Thing is, Drew, you’re a smart guy. A problem solver. You’re good at it, which is why you’re an excellent attorney… and a much better friend than I gave you credit for the first time we met in that hotel bar.”

Drew snorted, thinking back to their disastrous first meeting, and Cort grinned.

“The only problem is, you’re busy trying to make things the way they should be for everyone you care about, and sometimes that makes it hard to hear when people tell you how things really are.”

Drew dropped a plate of muffins on the island with a clatter. “Pretty sure you’re trying to tell me I’m a control freak.”

“But in the nicest possible way.”

“Huh.” Drew leaned his hands on the edge of the sink and watched as his fingertips went white. “Don’t feel so in control these days, Kendrick.”

“And maybe that’s a good thing,” Cort shocked him by saying. “Dude, make some time to meet with him. Soon. Like, tomorrow. Let him talk, and when he does? Listen. Believe him.”

Believe him. Trust him.

Drew shook his head. “That sounds deceptively easy.”

“No way. Listening is easy. But believing?” He grinned. “Some of us have harder heads than the rest of the world, McMann. Takes a little longer for shit to penetrate. But if I can get there, you can.”

From outside, a car horn sounded, and Cort chuckled. “Jesus, first I’m giving advice, now I’m stuck with that one for the evening.”

“And you’re letting him drive.” Drew shook his head. “Is your health insurance good?”

“I’m winning all the karma points today.” Cort clapped his hands together once. “Anyway, you be careful tonight.”

“I will,” Drew promised. “It’s honestly not going to be a late night, I can tell you already. I just felt like I needed to… Well.” He didn’t need to explain himself to Cort. The man he owed an explanation was currently in the driveway, impatiently tapping out Shave and a Haircut on his car horn.

“I’m going to West Kitchen,” Drew said quickly. “At seven-thirty. I’m meeting a man named Mark Charbonnier. And I’ll have my cell. Call if you need me.”

“See? Smart guy,” Cort said with a wink. He strolled out the door toward Sebastian, leaving Drew to contemplate a date with a man he didn’t want, and a reckoning with the man he did.