Elizabeth Bevarly - Overnight Male

Although Iris was certainly as comfortable around computers as the boys were, Adrian had come to the conclusion that the main reason she hung out with them was that she was a geek groupie. He’d overheard enough conversations between the young men when she wasn’t around to know that she’d slept with all three of them at some point—and more than once with all of them at the same time, something that intrigued Adrian rather a lot.

Ah, well then, he thought as the realization formed. He stood corrected. There was something—or rather, someone—he found intriguing after all. In fact, he found Iris rather fascinating. Rather captivating. And more than worthy of his preoccupation.

“Hello, Iris,” he greeted her as she slumped back on the sofa and watched the boys play.

She had the courtesy to turn around then and reply, “What’s up, Nick?” But she promptly returned her attention to the game and gamers, indicating she hadn’t expected a reply to the question. And when she realized what the boys were still arguing over, she uttered a loud sound of obvious disgust. “You’re playing Sonic again? ” she said disdainfully. “What are you, a bunch of fifth graders? I thought we were going to break out the new Resident Evil this afternoon.”

“We men, ” Chuck said manfully, emphasizing his gender, “are playing Sonic. You do what you want, Iris.”

What Iris did was roll her eyes dramatically and leap up from the sofa to make her way to the minibar, from which she withdrew, without asking permission, a soft drink. Not that Adrian minded. Much. It wasn’t as if he’d be drinking it himself. The beverage was, to his way of thinking, about as appealing as a big glass of bile. Not to mention that any expenses racked up during his stay here in the suite were more than covered by the money the group had appropriated over the past few months. Mostly by raiding other people’s computers and appropriating their financial information—and then their finances themselves. And Iris was no slouch herself when it came to hacking and designing viruses. Plus, there was the small matter of, when it came time to check out of the suite, Adrian would be gone before the bill was tucked under the door, leaving behind absolutely no traceable evidence of himself or the others.

He was currently on week three at the Four Seasons. One more, and he’d be moving to the Omni, just up the road. Although he alone stayed at the suite around the clock, he’d given the others key cards and indicated they were welcome whenever they wanted to drop by. That, of course, wasn’t true—Adrian didn’t welcome them at all, ever—but he needed them to think he was one of them, or at the very least striving to be one of them. They were valuable tools, the way he saw it. And he wanted to have them close by for whenever he might need them.

Like tonight.

He watched Iris as she screwed the top off the soda and enjoyed a healthy swallow before lowering it again. And for some reason he found the sight of her black-stained mouth covering the rim of the bottle to be more than a little arousing. He hadn’t really thought about giving Iris a go himself, since the last time he’d mixed business with pleasure, he’d regretted it. What he’d thought was simply an alluring sex kitten named Tiffannee, someone who didn’t have the brains of a sponge mop, had turned out to be one of the most dangerous—and cunning—women in the world. And she’d come this close to returning Adrian to the not-so-loving bosom of OPUS, who would have then locked him up and thrown away the key.

He would not make the same mistake twice. His information pipeline at OPUS might not be running quite as freely and quickly as it once had, but he’d been able to learn enough about each of the boys to be reasonably certain they were precisely who they claimed to be. Iris remained a big question mark, but since she wasn’t really a player in their game, Adrian wasn’t too concerned about her background anyway.

What mattered was that bits and pieces of information had begun to flow from his source again, and a background check of each of his, ah, colleagues was at the top of his list of needs. It shouldn’t be long before he knew more about them than they knew themselves. In the meantime, they’d more than proved their worth by breaking every law he’d asked them to, without question or compunction. There was almost no chance any of them were working for anyone other than him. Would that they just worked a little better. Then Adrian would be a very happy man.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” Iris asked.

The question dispelled his troubled thoughts and replaced them with much nicer ideas. He was rather looking forward to this evening. He had his eye on a certain Swiss bank account he was hoping the boys could bleed dry.

Iris moved to the desk in the corner where Adrian’s laptop was folded closed and opened it. Again without asking permission. Again without Adrian minding. Much.

“It’s been a while since we did anything fun,” she added as she seated herself and tapped the mouse pad with her middle finger to bring the computer out of sleep mode.

As she began to type, Adrian set his snifter on a side table and strode across the room to stand behind her. Looking over her shoulder, he saw that she’d gone to the iTunes music store and pulled up information on a band he’d never heard of before. He had to remind himself he was only forty-six and in no way ready for the retirement home. But having spent the past few months with this group, he’d been forced to accept the fact that pop culture no longer catered to his generation. Actors, singers, dissidents, serial killers—they were all younger than Adrian these days. College students were making millions selling Web sites they designed on a lark, and the teenage offspring of bestselling novelists were hitting the lists even higher than some of their parents. Society was now geared to those who were younger, hipper, faster. The ones who required less sleep and more distraction, thereby ensuring that the entertainment industries made money around the clock.

Maybe he wasn’t old, Adrian thought, but he was older. And he was no longer a part of that demographic that every one wanted to attract. All the more reason to take as much as he could as quickly as he could. So that he could disappear on his own terms, instead of on theirs.

“We haven’t had fun for a while, have we?” he told Iris over the din of the still-arguing boys on the other side of the room.

He completed another step, an action that placed him immediately behind her, close enough that he could have settled both hands on her shoulders had he wanted to. Funnily, he realized he did want to. But he didn’t. Yet. Instead, he only gazed down at the crown of her head, scrutinizing the part in her hair that zigzagged across her scalp. He smiled when he found what he was looking for. There, very faint, he saw that her roots were blond. Very blond. Nearly white-blond. His grin broadened. He’d always had a predilection for blondes.

“You’re right—we should do something fun this evening,” he agreed as Iris began to download music from that band Adrian had never heard of onto his laptop. Without asking his permission. Not that he minded. Much. And although he himself had one or two additional ideas as to what that “fun” might involve, he decided to focus instead on his original plan.

For now.

IRIS DAUGHERTY WAS MORE than a little aware of Nick Darian’s nearness as he stood behind her and watched every move she made on his computer. Good. ‘Bout damned time he started noticing every move she made, since she’d been watching his every move since the day Chuck had introduced the two of them. Even if he did have probably twenty years on her and dressed like a corporate drone. And even if he was interested in any of them only because they knew ‘puters and didn’t mind overstepping the law. Kind of hard not to watch a guy who looked as good as Nick did, with that thick auburn hair and those amber eyes and those cheekbones sharp enough to slice tomatoes. And those shoulders that were broad enough to strain the seams of his shirt. And that waist just narrow enough for a woman to wrap her arms around. And a chest just perfect for that same woman to settle her head against.