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One of the sliding glass doors opened, and Geoffrey came out wearing those ridiculously sexy pajama pants and nothing else. His gaze latched on to Sven, his half-asleep smile sending butterflies into Sven’s belly. He couldn’t help but smile back. Geoffrey curled up on the seat next to him, his head on Sven’s chest, his hand going up under his T-shirt to rest on his belly. Sven couldn’t stop himself from kissing the wavy blond hair, not giving a shit what Royce thought.

Geoffrey rested his weight against Sven—felt like he was still mostly asleep. “Did you make coffee?” he asked, voice slurred and rusty.

Royce pointed behind them. Sven glanced over his shoulder to see three tall cups of coffee in a holder.

“I brought some. They’ll need to be zapped because someone forgot I was coming.”

When Geoffrey didn’t move, Sven chuckled and tightened his arm around him. Geoffrey patted his stomach, hand still under his shirt and raised his face for a kiss that Sven didn’t mind giving him at all. Their lips lingered together.

“How about I zap the coffee and give you guys a couple of minutes to get that out of your system?” Royce stood and walked around them.

“It’ll take more than a couple of minutes,” Geoffrey murmured against his mouth. “Good morning. I missed you when I woke up.” He leaned back and grinned. “Did you try to wake me? I should warn you I sleep like the dead. If I ever have a house fire in the middle of the night, I’m toast.”

“You also cuddle.”

“I’m a heat-seeking missile when I’m out. I didn’t get that lucky inner high temp that most guys have, so I tend to burrow and you’re wonderfully warm.” He slumped back against Sven and was quiet.

Sven watched the sun sparkling on the pool, content to just sit and hold the man.

Royce came back out, cell phone in hand and set the holder of coffees on the coffee table. “Did you place a big order for delivery, Geoffrey? There’s a large box on the porch.”

He nodded and yawned again.

Quinn’s tinny voice came out of the phone. “Put me on speaker, Royce!”

“Gotta give me time, squirt,” Royce said as he messed with his phone and set it on the table, too. He settled back on the couch.

“What have I said about that nickname? I hate it.” Quinn’s voice came louder through the speaker.

Royce didn’t answer; he just grinned lazily at his phone.

“Can Geoffrey hear me?”

“I’m here.” Geoffrey took the lid off his coffee and blew on it. “Spill.”

“Okay, here’s the rundown of what we have so far. We’ve ruled out a bunch of the people you hang out with regularly, though we still have a few more to study. You have a lot of friends.”

“They’re not friends,” Sven said.

“They’re not,” Royce agreed with a fierce scowl that told Sven he’d seen the reactions to that video.

Geoffrey must have had the same thought because the memory of that video and the comments obviously hit him. His shoulders slumped and his face lost the sleepy affection it had held before.

Anger once again burned through Sven like fire. He patted his chest and Geoffrey gratefully slumped back against him.

Quinn spoke again. “With everyone Gidget and I’ve managed to rule out, there are a few we now have on a list of suspects. God, I love saying that.” He laughed. “I was hoping to discuss my top three with you.”

“Sure,” Geoffrey said, covering his mouth as he yawned. “Who are they?”

“Patrick Klein, your ex Brendon Somerville, and Kody Muse.”

Geoffrey snorted. “Nope. A big nope to all of them. Utterly impossible. Try again, Q-Man.”

“I’m not saying my list is perfect, but these are the three who are closest to you,” Quinn said. “The ones with the easiest access to you.”

“It would make Sven’s job a little easier if he knew for sure that these three men weren’t trying to hurt you,” Royce added.

Sven looked over Geoffrey’s head at the other bodyguard and just smirked. That was a damn dirty trick, but the loud, disgruntled sigh meant that it had worked.

“Okay, but I really don’t think it could be Brendon at all.” Geoffrey pulled away from Sven, shifting so that he was sitting on the edge of the seat closer to the phone. “He’s not that bright when it comes to computers. Hacking my accounts? Editing that video? He’d have to hire someone for that.”

Quinn snorted loudly. “I don’t know what you saw in that dweeb, by the way. He’s an asshole. Have you spent any time at all on his Facebook page? He has absolutely no ability to discern which news organizations are real and just randomly reposts the most ridiculous alarmist shit.” There was a clatter in the background and loud laughter. “Ignore the noise. I brought a laptop downstairs. Noah bet Andrei he could out-lift him.”


Tags: Jocelynn Drake, Rinda Elliott Ward Security Romance