Page 40 of Business vs. Pleasure

The phone kept shrieking.

August swallowed. “Or you can take this, we can figure out who the fuck NightPigeon is, and we can retire on a high.”

They held each other’s gazes. The phone didn’t shut up. August’s expression said nothing if not, “It’s up to you—I’ll follow where you lead.”

That alone made Ricardo want to ignore the call.

They could be on a plane back to Malta before the day was over. They could be back in their own bed—their own quiet life—tomorrow. They could⁠—

“Answer it,” August said.

Ricardo raised his eyebrows. “Should I?”

August nodded sharply. His expression was full of certainty. “We’ll retire after this.” He gestured at the phone. “Answer it.”

Ricardo studied him, then accepted the call and put it on speaker. “Hey, Heid⁠—”

“Jesus, finally,” she snapped. “Listen, I haven’t found heads or tails of this NightRaven weirdo. The site owners are being dicks.”

“What do they want? A subpoena?”

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” August said dryly. “Can you imagine the cops getting a subpoena for that site?” He put the back of his hand to his forehead and sighed dramatically.

Ricardo bit down on a laugh as Heidi made an irritated noise.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. “Anyway. Apparently you boys reactivated at just the right time, because there are so many jobs right now. I don’t know if it’s a full moon or what, but—anyway, while I keep digging on NightRaven, I’ve got another job for you.”

August and Ricardo locked eyes. In a matter of seconds, they’d had a full conversation with their eyes, checking in with each other and asking if they were going to do this or not.

Confident he knew where his husband stood, Ricardo asked, “What’s the job?”

CHAPTER 12

Was there such a thing as too perfect? Before this week, August would have said no. Aperol spritzes at a quiet bar on the outskirts of downtown Venice; L’Avia’s quiet laugh as August flirted with her in French or bad Catalan; the feel of slipping on a bespoke suit jacket for the very first time… No, perfection was real, and August hunted it down like a cat determined to take care of his hopelessly quotidian human housemate with the best life had to offer.

But now…

“No.”

Ricardo looked up from the table where he had his phone on speaker. “Excuse me?” Heidi asked, clearly picking up August’s rejection of what she’d described as “totally perfect for you two.”

“I said, no.”

Ricardo didn’t say anything, but his eyes narrowed in that way that meant he wasn’t quite sure where August was going with this. Fair enough—August wasn’t entirely sure himself. But he did know, without a shadow of a doubt, that “perfect” had been a part of the last two job descriptions as well, and they’d both ended up going incredibly wrong.

“Care to explain why?” Heidi demanded. “It’s in New York City, which I know you love, and the fee is⁠—”

“New York is full of people even this time of year. The Met would be a nightmare. Plus, rain. Maybe even snow. Ugh.”

There was a moment of quiet, then—“Fine. There’s another in Tokyo for the CEO of a company that makes⁠—”

“Mm, nope.” Another CEO? Ha, that was a full stop.

“Why not?”

“Too far away,” August said instead of telling her the truth. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Heidi as far as he could throw her—which was pretty far, if he put his hips into it—but there was a creeping, crawling sensation under his skin that he couldn’t ignore this time around. If they were cursed, then he wasn’t going to tempt fate by trying to take out the same kind of target a third time. And if they were being followed… that fucking waiter… then he wasn’t going to make it easier to track them by being predictable. “I wouldn’t get over the jetlag in time to do the job.”

“I didn’t even tell you the timetable for the job!”