Page 6 of Remote Access

Since Quincy figured he could take the kid down if needed, he did one better and leaned back to set the gun on the counter outside of the room. He took the paper.

It was a spreadsheet with fifteen lines. Dates, names, and items. His eyebrows went up when he saw a 1959 Les Paul guitar on that list. He knew what some of those were worth. "There are two columns of names. One before the items and one after,” he murmured. The churning in his gut turned into full-on war because he'd worked in law enforcement long enough to understand what he was looking at. And some of the items rang a few memory bells as well. They’d been investigating Hayrick for selling stolen goods, but not anything on this scale.

Reeling, he worked to keep his expression blank. Blackmailed kids, high-dollar stolen goods… It was possible there was enough here to get his job back. But he still had to find dirt on Chief Rawlins.

"Does this mean what I think it does?" he finally asked, his voice raspy.

"Probably." The guy nodded. "Column one, real owner and price. Column two, buyer and illegal sale of stolen item. Column three… Well, I’ve been here long enough to recognize two items I lifted myself, though I don’t know what the initials there mean.”

Acid rose up Quincy’s throat and he looked at the other boxes. The size of Letsen's operation boggled his mind, but he couldn't tamp down his rising excitement as well. He and his friends had been investigating Hayrick Letsen’s antique shops as fronts for laundering money and fencing stolen good. But not on this kind of scale. All the hair on his body was standing on end. “You're saying that Hayrick Letsen has other kids like you?"

The young man nodded, eyes so full of poignant regret they cut off Quincy's breath. "I don't know how many. I thought it might only be a couple because how many could he actually blackmail? But I think I underestimated his reach. I knew he had another kid he was blackmailing for sure. Well, he’s a man now, if Hayrick still has him." His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "I need to make something right. And I need to do it fast. Before he gets back. I promise, I'm not here to steal anything. You can watch me. I just need to know where one item went."

Quincy had straightened away from the door-jamb as the kid spoke. The regret in the young man’s face called to something deep inside him. Years of pain layered his voice. He didn't have anything other than his gut instincts, but he knew this kid was telling the truth.

"Twenty-four hours. That's how long you have to look through these files."

"How loyal are you?" The guy asked.

"Very." He met the gray eyes. "But only to those who deserve it and I already know that Mr. Hayrick Letsen does not. I want to hear more, so you be good and the gun will stay out of sight. Deal?"

"Deal," he agreed as he held out his hand. "I'm Lane, by the way."

He took that hand, noting the cold sweat the kid didn't bother to hide.

"Quincy Holt. Tell me about the blackmail."

Chapter Three

Inwardly, Lane was cursing himself for dropping his guard. For assuming this would be an easy break-in. Nothing in his life had gone to plan since Hayrick had entered it, but if there was one thing he'd excelled at as a thief, it was knowing his surroundings at all times.

And he’d royally fucked up this time.

He watched the guy reading over the spreadsheet of stolen items, finding it hard to believe he was a security guard. He had too much of a commanding stature to be anything but the boss in any situation. Plus, he kind of looked like a rock star with his wavy, chin-length brown hair. A dot of blood on his jaw and the strong scent of a spicy aftershave let Lane know what he'd interrupted. Quincy had one of those sharp, masculine faces that was more rough than good looking—except for his eyes. Electric blue with the sexiest slant in the corners.

And the big fucker was ripped. Jesus, but his body was fine.

From the way his gaze had glanced over Lane, it was obvious he was also gay and that sent a crazy thrill dancing through Lane's body. He'd looked over Lane like he was considering topping him with whipped cream and going to town. Which was a huge plus in this situation. Lane had no trouble using his body to get out of this if needed. He was too close to freedom. But as he watched the man frown at the list, he had a feeling that wouldn't be necessary.

Quincy wasn’t like Hayrick. Lane could tell. He'd learned to read people over the years. Had prided himself on how proficient he'd become at it. He'd even studied psychology books and taken a few college courses. Knowing people and understanding how they thought had helped him do everything Hayrick demanded without getting caught.

Until now.

He could only blame his grief for his inattention.

The thought of his mother swept through him so fast, the sorrow nearly took him out at the knees. He didn't have time to mourn—not yet. Pushing the emotion back, he stared at Quincy. He may seem like a good man, but he worked for Hayrick and that said something.

"So…Lane," Quincy muttered in his rumbly voice. "You're a thief."

"One of two—possibly." He looked down at the boxes. "I was hoping to find out the answer to that in here as well. Not that I'll know what to do with that knowledge but you can never have too much information in any situation."

"True." The guy rubbed a hand over his chest and Lane had to work not to look again. Quincy had the most intriguing pattern of light brown hair over his nipples and it continued down the middle of his abs and thickened under his belly button.Shit.Lane's body was reacting against his will. Too bad this guy was going to be a mark. Lane looked up to realize he'd been caught staring.

"What does he have over you?" Quincy asked, his voice low.

This time, his stare aimed right into those blue eyes as he weighed his options. The faster he got through these files and got this done, the faster he'd be off to start his new life. That meant taking a huge chance and trusting this security guard.

He didn't know if he could.

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