him and nudged his feet to the floor, shooting Adam a secret smile. “It’s what you would have been doing if you’d actually had the guts to get out from behind the computer screen in your parents’ basement and go out and meet real girls.”
Justin sat up straight and looked absolutely offended. “I was not in my parents’ basement. I had a computer in my room.” He motioned to Adam. “Do I have to put up with this?”
Tess scoffed. “If you yuck on somebody else’s yum, you get what you get.”
Adam snorted and grabbed the file from Justin. “Yeah, Justin, stop yucking on—” he read the name off the folder “—Bryan Lane’s yum.”
“He’s not our guy anyway,” Tess interjected, plucking the file from Adam’s hand.
Their fingers brushed; their eyes locked on each other and everything else in the room disappeared. He stared at her, zeroing in on the way her body swayed into his. He knew how it was; gravity had nothing on the pull of Tess Lynch.
“How do you know?” Justin inquired, sifting through the stack of files and trying to pretend like he wasn’t staring at the two of them. “What are you looking for? What does a traitor look like?”
Tess’s gaze lingered on his for a moment longer and then she transferred all her attention to Justin. Adam felt the loss as a physical pang, deep in his gut. And if he zoomed in closely on his emotions, he’d acknowledge that jealousy was in the mix too. But he wasn’t zooming in on anything except the task at hand, right now.
“They look like you and me and Estelle,” she said, mentioning Adam’s long-time and highly beloved personal assistant. “Or that beautiful boy at the corner coffee shop with all of the tattoos.”
“Felix. His name is Felix.” Adam spoke without thinking, waving off the extended, curious looks from Tess and Justin. “He takes the time to remember my name and my order. I remember his.”
“Okay, yes, Felix,” Tess agreed. “It would be great if they walked around with a big T on their chest or a mustache to twirl like a villain. But, they don’t. So, you have to look for an area of exploitation, usually debt, sex or family. It will be a miracle if the IT guys found evidence on the company computers. I’d be shocked if someone was so dumb or brazen. So, I need to look deeper.”
“File by file,” Adam observed.
“Person by person,” Tess answered, pointing to the stacks on the table. “But I’ll find them, whoever they are.”
Estelle Conway appeared in the doorway, her expression wary. She glanced back over her shoulder, angling her wheelchair across the opening and effectively blocking whoever was behind her. “Mr. Thornton is here to see you, Mr. Redhawk.”
Adam went rigid while Justin shot into movement. There was a flurry of arms and legs and thunderous muttering as he rose from the couch in a cascade of paper and folders and advanced toward Estelle.
“What the fuck does he want?” Justin asked, his typically smooth voice ragged with anger.
“I want to fucking talk to Adam.” Franklin Thornton answered as he pushed past Estelle and barreled through the door, jamming Estelle’s chair into the door frame with a metallic thud and bang. His voice was calm and even, in contrast to his physical aggression and demanding movements.
He was a handsome man, his tall frame still broad in the shoulders with a power that hinted at his college football player past. But one look in his eyes told you the truth behind his money and power. It wasn’t that he was fouled by hatred or rage. Franklin Thornton was dead inside. He didn’t care enough about the people around him to worry about hurting them; you couldn’t harm a thing, an object. Adam had learned early that his adoption had had its reasons and none of them involved him or his welfare. He was around because he was useful to Franklin and nothing more. Everything was that complicated and that simple with his adoptive father.
“Mr. Redhawk, I’m sorry,” Estelle began to apologize for what she clearly thought was her failure for this man barging his way into the office.
Adam wasn’t having it.
He stepped forward and stood in front of Franklin, using his own bulk to block any further progress into the office, any progress toward the work they were doing in here. Adam didn’t raise his voice; he’d learned early and often to keep complete control of his reactions, to deny