He whispered, “Good thing you came when you did. I’m flaming out, man.”
Caleb swore, fired into the street below them from the flimsy landing on which they stood, and said something Owen couldn’t make out.
The world spun, and he saw nothing more.
When he woke, everything was dark, and he felt a strange vibration around him. His throat ached, and he swallowed hard, coughing at the itch there.
“Easy. Christ, Owen. Next time, give me a little more warning.”
Caleb.
Out loud, his friend said, “We’re right now in the plane heading home.” A pause. “It was Kerr. He sent a note with one of the bastards who bombed our car. Oh right, you missed that, Miss Daisy, because I had to find us alternate wheels and carry your heavy ass out of Dodge. Anyway, apparently Kerr can’t wait to see you again.” Caleb sounded gruff when he added, “I’m staying until he’s done. That was way too close for comfort, and he’s got to have impressive contacts if he tracked us that soon. The flight manifest was scrubbed, and no one but me and a few higher-ups knew about this.”
“Great.” Hell. It even hurt to mentally communicate.
“No. I want you to talk to me, with your mouth. Open your eyes, slacker. Come on. I know you’re tired, but I need to see…”
Owen felt as if he’d been in a coma for weeks. It took Herculean effort to open his eyes.
“Christ, Owen. Your pupils are still huge. Not good, man.”
“I know that,” he rasped. “I feel…bad.”
Caleb swore, creatively, in several languages. Two of which Owen recognized.
“Okay. Close your eyes and rest. We’re flying back to a private airport away from Bend, then driving back to the house. You need rest, man. Oh, and when I called to check with Tim, he said your boy is safe and sound and funny as hell. So the fact Tim hasn’t killed him yet is a plus.”
Owen wanted to laugh at Caleb’s dry tone, but he couldn’t find the energy. A slight pain in his leg alerted him that the gunshot he’d suffered had been real. But the relief that Ian was waiting for him, alive and well, gave him the respite from consciousness he needed.
“…okay? Owen, hey, Owen.” “Buddy, you still with me?”
Caleb’s voice faded, and Owen sank into oblivion once more.
Chapter Eight
“So what’s it like?” Ian asked as he stirred sugar into his iced tea. “I mean, being that large must be terrific when it comes to getting people to do what you want.”
Tim raised a brow. “Really? Because you don’t seem that impressed.”
“I’m the exception. Most people with a normal brain respond to brute tactics.”
Tim chuckled. They sat outside on the deck, overlooking the beautiful Cascade Mountains. Reuben had cleared the area out back, and unless someone planned on firebombing the house, they were clear of sniper attack. A good thing, because Ian had lost his patience for sitting still an hour after Owen had departed two days ago.
He sighed again. “I’m bored.”
“How can that be? I caught you breaking into Owen’s vault twice and found you rummaging through his locked office just this morning.”
They stared at the lunch on the table in front of them. Bless Bev and her killer nachos.
Before Ian could speak, Dolly joined them. “Boy, I need a break.” She glared over her shoulder, and Ian bit back a grin. Reuben stared at the three of them at the table, nodded to Tim, then went back inside the house.
Through the glass walls, Ian watched the large man disappear, probably back to doing his rounds around the place. So mundane, but the Knox brothers seemed to revel in dull activities.
“He bugging you, Dolly? Want me to talk to him?” Ian offered, curious about Owen’s security.
He’d checked into the Knoxes’ records the night before, the open and classified government documents. Decorated Special Forces types who’d separated from the service years before retirement, they’d been hired as mercenaries and “conflict consultants” prior to joining up with Owen a few years ago. Since then, they had a spotless record of keeping him safe when he’d traveled abroad.
Tim too passed the bar. Not that Ian didn’t think Owen could handle his own with investigating his employees, but, well, there was Harry Barker, after all.
“So what really happened with Harry?” Ian asked, wondering if Dolly or Tim would say anything. Owen had that uncanny ability to instill the utmost loyalty in his people. Hell, even Ian wanted to take care of the guy, and Owen could more than afford to hire the best. It just seemed like Owen tried to take care of everyone else and put himself last. So weird for a guy of the rich-and-privileged set.
Dolly’s mouth thinned. “That con artist wormed his way into Owen’s good graces. He was polite, funny, even a snappy dresser. We all liked him, at least until he had the nerve to sell Owen out. Tim saved his life.” She nodded. “Reuben and Joe almost had him, but the men he let into the house to kill Owen took him with them when they left.”
Kill Owen? His mouth grew dry. “When did this happen?” Ian asked, intrigued. Jack hadn’t said anything about an altercation here. Nor had anyone else. Then again, Jack didn’t often confer with Ian, which was why Ian had to spy on his boss. For Jack’s own good, of course.
“I don’t know that Owen would want us to share,” Tim hedged.
“He wouldn’t mind a bit,” Dolly refuted before Ian could. “Do you know, Ian, that you’re the only date Owen’s ever brought here?”
Tim colored. “I don’t think Ian’s his date, Dolly.”
“No. He told me I’m his new boyfriend.” Ian beamed. He’d been practicing tossing the word around, wondering at the seeming meaning Owen attached to it. He’d been pretty emphatic about them not being casual. All that mine crap. Ian got a secret thrill out of the thought of belonging. Owen was hot, rich, but more importantly, he genuinely seemed to like Ian. Unlike Ian’s other friends, who grew annoyed with him at the drop of a hat, Owen laughed off his teasing and encouraged Ian’s dry wit. To Tim, who still looked uncomfortable, Ian said, “You did know he’s gay, right?”
Dolly laughed with Ian when Tim’s blush intensified.
“We shouldn’t be talking about him like this,” Tim said weakly.
“Why not?” Ian shrugged and took a sip of tea. “You’re family, right? I mean, this is his personal oasis, his safe spot away from the press and everyone trying to get a piece of him.” Ian had wondered about Owen’s life, and from what Bev and Dolly had confided the past two days, Owen only seemed to relax here.
His insights into his new boyfriend made him realize Owen had a much harder life than he’d once thought. Hundreds of thousands of people relied on him for their livelihood. His millions made jobs possible, while his connection to Jack ensured even Ian had legitimate work.
“Family?” Tim asked. “Uh, I work for him.”
“Family,” Dolly said firmly and nodded. “Owen is a wonderful man. He helped my mother when she got sick. I never asked, either. He volunteered to get her treated and paid the tab. He keeps trying to get Bev to write a cookbook, because she’s always wanted to but is afraid to fail. But with Owen’s backing, it’ll go far. He’s a true gentleman. Unlike some people,” she muttered and looked over her shoulder in the general direction where Reuben had disappeared.
Ian smothered a grin and asked again, “Want me to talk to him?”