Page 25 of Sigh of Relief

“Yes, to both.” They hadn’t said the words, hadn’t explicitly acknowledged the moment of shared past, of shared desire, but the implication had been clear the morning they’d been intimate. But as sure as Archer was that they both wanted to act on those desires again, he couldn’t say with any certainty that they both could. “But I imagine it’s also complicated by his job.”

“There is always the private option.”

“Not sure if I’m ready for that yet, either.” While Ezra and Noah were happy to keep their kinks at home, Archer still enjoyed the Scene. He just wanted to enjoy it with a partner who didn’t need to put him in a designated box.

He moved to stand, to begin removing lids from dishes, but Ezra stopped him short, a hand on his forearm. “You need to talk to him, Archer.”

“I don’t even know when he’ll be back.”

“You know, there’s this device now called a telephone, old man.”

With his spare hand, Archer finished removing the lid, grabbed a smashed baby potato, and tossed that at his friend too.

Ezra snatched it out of the air and popped it into his mouth. No food went to waste around that man. And no opportunity for romantic reflection either, especially since he’d found love again with Noah. “How does it feel when he is here?”

Archer contemplated his answer as they finished removing the lids on the dishes. The last one—a bright green asparagus and spring pea salad—reminded him of a feeling from his past that was surprisingly similar to how he felt about Elton. “Like the first time I stepped into a vineyard. Right and hopeful, but apprehensive too, knowing the fragile future ahead of me.”

Ezra threw an arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Good thing you’re the best winemaker I know.”

Chapter Sixteen

Elton stood at the head of Redemption Inc.’s conference table and counted the missing persons cases scattered from one end of the table to the other, fighting like hell not to collapse under the weight of hopelessness and rage. “They’re putting good, hardworking people on planes and sending them to God only knows where.”

Mel leaned a hip against the table. “Which is why we’re working every contact we have to confirm who is missing, then making a plan to find them. This is what we do professionally.”

Hunters. Bounties usually, but by the look of the conference table and the various portable boards around the once residential condo turned corporate HQ, Redemption Inc. was temporarily in the search and rescue business. No one better for it than Braxton Kane, the retired SFPD chief, and Mel, who’d parlayed a successful FBI career into an even more successful bounty chasing one. With no shortage of hackers on their team too, including the former SFPD IT specialist seated at the table. He dug the airport lounge napkin out of his pocket and handed it to Jax. “If these folks aren’t on your list already, we need to add them.”

Archer had called him earlier today, and Elton had been so starved for his voice that he hadn’t noticed Archer’s distress at first. But when he’d clued in, the news Archer delivered had made his chest clench. Miguel and Daniela hadn’t shown up for work. Neither had more than a dozen other of the winery’s workers.

“Archer?” Mel said.

He nodded. “Seasonal hires except the last two. They’re regular staff. Venezuelan, TPS. Didn’t show up today.”

“They could just be⁠—”

“They’re his two most reliable employees.”

Jax’s fingers flew across the keyboard. “We’ll find them.”

“And once we do,” Mel said, “Oak and Helena will reach out to their families with names of immigration counsel who can help.”

“Pro bono?” Elton asked.

“Some, with a nonprofit the Talleys set up covering the rest.”

“Tell me how I can donate.”

“Might be you can do more than that, but I’ll let Aidan make that pitch.”

He blew out a stuttering breath and glided his hands over his head, knitting them behind his neck. He’d known it would be bad this go-round, but it had only been four months and things were far worse than he’d imagined.

And deteriorating faster each day.

“They’re also putting good people who look like you and me out of jobs,” Mel said, an exclamation point on his mental woe. “You need to start thinking about after.”

And faster still.

He let his arms fall and leaned back his head, groaning.