“No. Trees and I aren’t…together. Besides, I have to get up early and help my mom cook Christmas dinner for the rest of the family.”
“Then, yeah. I’ll take you up on that. Thanks. I just need a few.”
Because every moment Zy was apart from Tessa, his chest got tighter and his fury multiplied. He was a fucking mess with no outlet to unleash it on. He needed to get his damn head together before he took another step.
“Sure. I need to use the ladies’ room, anyway.” Madison turned and headed to the far side of the house, leaving him alone with Trees.
“You look like shit.”
Zy huffed. “Don’t hold back.”
“I never do.”
“Yeah, well… I feel like shit. I’m stuck, man.”
“I know. I wish I had an answer.”
Zy hardly expected him to. “No one does.”
“Hang in there. Everything happens for a reason. Stuff often turns out for the best when you let it.”
Believing that had gotten him and Trees through some really horrible times, courtesy of Uncle Sam. Zy had questioned that wisdom before, then always been proven wrong. Now…he didn’t see how not being with Tessa would ever be a good thing.
“I don’t know, man. I just don’t know.”
Trees nodded and stepped back. “I’ll give you a few minutes. Take your time. Let me know if you need anything.”
The big man in front of him was probably the most unlikely friend he could have made in life, but he was also the best. He’d never believe Trees was guilty of betraying him, the bosses, and the rest of EM Security for a buck. That wasn’t him.
With Madison in the other bathroom, Zy loped into the master bedroom and shut the door behind him, sitting on the bed with a sigh. He’d never had to make many efforts not to cry in his life, but fuck if he wasn’t giving it one hell of an effort to keep his shit together now.
Tessa was all but lost to him. She trusted him enough to call when she was in jeopardy, and he’d taken that as the best sign. She’d opened up after that, been both eager and candid during their lunches over the past month. So tonight had been like a kick in the balls. Where did he go from here?
It wasn’t denying himself. And it sure as hell wasn’t letting Tessa go. This wasn’t his fault or hers. It was their motherfucking bosses’, their paranoid delusions, and their inability to use their brains to see there might be other suspects who were less obvious. But they wanted proof that Trees wasn’t their man?
Game on.
He swiped his phone from his pocket and flipped on his camera, then started rolling video. “Hello, cocksuckers. You want proof that Trees isn’t guilty of stabbing you three in the back? Here you go. I’ve already told you I’ve found nothing in his desk. I’m not getting into his work computer without admin access, and even then, I wouldn’t find anything because a) he’s too smart to make anything he does online easy to trace, and b) he’s not fucking betraying you. But just so you know I tried, I’ll take you on a tour of his personal space. See?” Zy opened the drawers of Trees’s nightstand and filmed the contents, hating every second he breached his best friend’s privacy. “There’s nothing here that should worry you. A loaded gun, a flashlight, some money, fishing gear, a survival checklist. I see a few kinds of rope.” Zy didn’t want to know why Trees had that near his bed. “And an old porn mag—which I’m not touching. That’s it.”
After easing the last drawer shut, he made his way to Trees’s dresser and repeated the process, digging through the man’s clothes and filming everything he saw, down to the last scrap of underwear and the final pair of socks. He made his way to a little alcove with Trees’s desk. “I can’t break into his computer without him knowing, so if you want access to his files, you’ll have to hire someone with more skill. But I know he keeps paper bank statements because he doesn’t trust handling his money online.” One at a time, Zy extracted the documents from the last six months of neatly organized envelopes and ran the camera over each page, front and back, making sure the bosses got an eyeful of every number. “He’s been saving all his life, and you can see he hasn’t received any sudden infusions of cash. The three deposits he gets every month are the pair of his paychecks from you and one from the trust his grandparents left him.”
Zy resisted the urge to stomp as he marched to Trees’s bathroom to repeat the process, careful to keep his voice down because the tile echoed. But if his pal was a borderline hoarder—who kept scraps of crayons for their wax and boxes of organic seeds in their kitchen?—he was a minimalist when it came to grooming.