OLIVER stretched his arms over his head and cracked his neck as he pushed back from the computer monitor. The sums of money that Erebus controlled around the world were staggering. He was building a complex investment algorithm for shifting the consortium’s holdings in and out of various currencies rapidly to take advantage of currency fluctuations. Arbitrage traders did the same thing, but with the inside information Erebus obtained from various governments around the world, they could move in advance of the open markets. It was as illegal as hell, but still an interesting project to the mathematician within him.
He glanced out the glass wall to his right, down the mountain to the brilliant turquoise Aegean Sea below. The surf was up. A few surfers rode the waves, shooting along in front of the whitecaps like seagulls skimming the water. God. It had been forever since he’d surfed.
Giving in to impulse, he strode out of his office. “I’m going surfing, Callista. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
His secretary replied, “There’s a surf shack about five hundred meters south of where the stairs emerge onto the beach, sir. You can rent a board there.”
Ever the soul of efficiency, she was. He’d planned on bumming a board off one of the locals, but renting one would work too. He changed quickly into surf shorts and jogged down to the beach. The sun was brutal on his bare shoulders. Fuck. He’d lost most of his tan in the past few months, slaving at a computer day and night. But his algorithm was almost finished. Then maybe his taskmasters would cut him loose for a small vacation. And money was no object for him now. The numbers of zeroes on the end of the bank account his father had presented him with upon his arrival in Greece still appalled him. He thought he might try Australia. He’d like to surf the big waves there.
Assuming the bastards let him risk his ever so valuable neck.
Which wasn’t bloody likely. They’d failed to inform him that he was basically their slave until he proved himself loyal and valuable to the consortium. Even this small break to surf for an hour was likely to land him in hot water with the senior members of the consortium.
He rented a scuffed-up surfboard and carried it down to the water. The warm Aegean Sea lapped around his legs, and he flopped onto his board and paddled out toward the breakers. It was the first time since he’d thrown Collin overboard and known that his lover was free of Erebus that he could remember feeling even a little happy. Please God, let Collin be alive and safe.
He’d waited for weeks for Collin to contact him, but there’d been nothing. Total silence. Not that he blamed Collin for not forgiving him after Oliver had shot him. In the absence of contact, he could only assume nothing had gone wrong and nothing bad had happened to Collin.
Oliver had frequent nightmares that involved Collin drowning, alone and terrified. But he dared not look for any evidence that Collin was alive. In the first place, Oliver expected that Erebus’s security team monitored his computer usage. And in the second place, the last thing he needed to do was lead his employers right to his supposedly dead lover.
A blond, tanned surfer caught a wave a little farther out to sea, and Oliver paddled hard to get out of the guy’s way. He shot past Oliver, executing a nifty reversal only a few yards ahead of him. Something about the guy’s physique, his way of moving, reminded him of Collin. Of course, Collin didn’t know the first thing about surfing, and this guy wasn’t half bad.
His path crossed the blond’s several more times in the next hour of surfing, and each time, something about the guy vaguely reminded him of Collin. And every single time, a pang of loss and longing twisted in his gut.
Eventually, the blond guy went ashore and flopped in the sand. Whether he was taking a nap or just working on his prodigious tan, Oliver couldn’t tell.
Oliver caught a few more waves, but the breeze was abating and the waves were subsiding as well. Tired, but less stressed than he’d been in weeks, Oliver waded ashore. As he reached the beach, he noticed the blond guy peering sidelong at him from behind his sunglasses.
Frowning a little, he slogged through the sand to the guy and sat down beside him. The blond guy stayed stretched out on his back.
“My name is Oliver,” he tried in his rudimentary Greek.
“Keep staring at the water,” a familiar voice said from beside him in a British accent.
Oliver jolted violently. Collin!
“Don’t look at me,” Collin bit out more sharply.
Oliver froze, staring at nothing but pointing his face toward the water. “How did you find me? Where have you been? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I had to make a few changes before I came for you, but I’ve been watching you ever since the night you dumped me.”
“I’m so fucking sorry about that—”
“No apologies necessary. And we don’t have long to talk. I’ve been sent to help you infiltrate Erebus, if you’re willing. I would act as your handler and give you whatever support you need. The idea is for you and me to develop a relationship over the next few months. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve had a little cosmetic work done, and your employer should not be able to identify me.”
Now that he mentioned it, Collin’s voice had shifted to a distinctly American accent in the past few sentences. New Jersey, maybe. And even he hadn’t recognized the face of the man he loved.
Collin continued tersely. “If you turn me in to your employer, they will kill me for real this time. If you choose to work with me, your life will be in serious danger. But you will be able to help me take down a powerful criminal organization that’s doing harm all over the world to enrich itself. It’s your decision. If you want to accept my offer, meet me here the next time a fresh breeze blows up some decent breakers.”
“Since when do you know how to surf?”
“Since I went under deep cover to rescue the man I love.”
And with those stunning words, Collin jumped to his feet and jogged off down the beach. Oliver watched him go, so elated he could hardly breathe.
Collin was alive. And he was here. And Collin loved him! Hot damn.
THE next few days passed in an agony of suspense for Oliver. He fiddled around with his algorithm, delaying finishing it with a series of test runs that were entirely unnecessary, but which fooled his supervisors by producing long and incomprehensible lists of numbers.
The winds had shifted to the west, and the sea was glassy calm out his window day after day. He was losing his mind bit by irrevocable bit. And then, on the ninth day since he’d briefly seen Collin, he woke up to a hot breeze through his window. From the southeast. The wind had finally shifted.
He worked through the morning, keeping one eye peeled out the window for a tanned blond working the waves like a pro. A little after noon, he spied a flash of golden hair wading out into the surf.
“Callista!” he shouted through the open door. “I’m going surfing for a few hours. If anyone complains, tell them the program will be operational tomorrow. If I don’t lose my mind staring at these four walls, that is.”
“Yes, sir.”
He had to stop himself from sprinting down to the beach, and from throttling the surfboard guy, who took forever to rent him a damned board. But then he was paddling out to sea. To Collin.
The Brit—correct that: the American—was straddling his board, watching waves roll in from the open sea as Oliver paddled up beside him and said, “It seems that we’re destined to keep running into each other in the middle of bodies of water.”
“You came,” Collin said in relief, smiling without looking at him.
“I came. For you. So how’s this going to work?”
“If you’re prepared to work inside Erebus to help me take it down, you and I will meet for coffee tomorrow, maybe have a lunch or two, and then, when it makes sense, progress on to a more serious relationship.”
“My father won’t stand for it.”
“He will when that algorithm you’re working on makes him and his buddies a fortune.”
“How do you know about that?”
“Sorry. Classified.”
Oliver turned that over in his head for a minute. The authorities—of what country was anybody’s guess—were on to the Erebus Consortium. Outstanding. He’d been banging his head against a wall trying to figure out how to take it down from the inside, but the bastards had the organization so compartmentalized that he’d found no way to destroy the whole thing at once.
As for his father standing for him taking a gay lover, Collin had a point. George was not in charge of Erebus and was far from the only voice in votes or decisions. If Oliver made them enough money, they wouldn’t care who he took to bed.
“I’d like a do-over with you,” Oliver said slowly. “I’d like to do the whole develop-a-relationship thing like normal people.”
Collin grinned, and Oliver was startled. He’d gotten caps on his teeth, and the faint imperfections from before were gone. His smile was now movie-star perfect. In fact, just about everything about him was now movie-star perfect.
“You clean up pretty good, Yankee.”
Collin’s smile widened. “The plastic surgeon said the only way to make me unrecognizable was to make me really ugly or so handsome no one could see past the razzle-dazzle to recognize me.”
“Thank you for choosing hot,” Oliver replied “Although I’d still love you if you looked hideous. After all, you came to rescue me yet again.”
Collin’s gaze, through the same rich, complex, fascinating gray eyes as always, softened. “I’ll always come for you, Oliver. I love you.” He shrugged and added simply, “You’re the one.”
“I’d lean over and kiss you if I could.”
“Patience, Oliver. We’re in this for the long game. There will be plenty of time for kisses later. And I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank God. I’ll never leave you again, I swear. And believe me. I’ve got the resources now to make that happen.”
“I’ll look forward to hearing all about them.” Collin held out his hand for a shake. “My name’s Rick. It’s nice to meet you Oliver.”
“Likewise. So tell me about yourself, Rick….”