Page 65 of Cohesion

“I’m still here,” Riley piped up from where he’d settled on one of the uncomfortable-looking chairs near Sebastian’s desk, bypassing the couch.

“Great. Thank you,” Sebastian said sarcastically. “What I really need to do is associate ‘Mr. Devlin’ with my dick getting hard. Do you know how many people a day call me that?”

“One less now,” Riley muttered.

“Enough to know you’re gonna be thinking about me all day,” Jericho said with a grin.

“You’re an asshole.”

“I’m more shocked that you’re surprised by that. No coffee.”

“But—”

“No coffee,” Jericho repeated. He had no earthly idea how Sebastian could drinkfiveof them in a day—hell, sometimes that was hismorningnumber—and not be bouncing off the walls or later struggle to sleep. It was some kind of sorcery. And not the kind he was remotely interested in mastering.

“If you hear screaming,” Sebastian said at the door, “it’s just me.”

Jericho threw a pen at him, and it hit the door as Sebastian closed it behind himself.

Fucker.

“How’s your lip?” Riley asked when the door closed behind Sebastian.

“Hurts.” More like an annoying paper cut than anything.

“Good.”

Jericho huffed and got comfortable against the desk again. “Say what you want to say, Riley.”

“What are you doing with them?”

“Do you want specifics or—”

“Don’t fuck with me.”

“I’d rather fuck them.”

“Jericho.” The warning was clear, and Jericho knew when to poke the bear and when to retreat. His self-preservation instincts weren’t in question.

“I’m falling in love with them,” he said bluntly. Already had, if he were honest. “And it scares the absolute fucking shit out of me. Do I know what I’m doing? I have zero clue. This is uncharted territory for me.” He hated the way Riley was looking at him. Like he knew all Jericho’s secrets. He didn’t. “I’m trying not to fuck it up. Will I succeed? I have no idea.” He wasn’t one for jumping into any situation without having all the answers,without knowing what his next move would be, but with these men, he couldn’t help himself.

Riley laced his fingers and rested them on his chest as he leaned backwards. “Alright.”

Whatever the fuck that meant. “Don’t punch me again.”

“No guarantees.”

“Second one costs you.”

“A price I’m willing to pay.”

Not surprising. “I have to go,” Jericho said, checking his watch. He and Peyton were going to a few of the hotel rooms that Six had put on a list of possible locations for Arthur Mulhall to be hiding out in. The ghost hunt was beginning to irritate him. How could he nail the asshole to the wall if they couldn’t even find him? If Mulhall wasn’t the one who had attempted to kidnap Riley, that meant he’d hired someone. Those kinds of men don’t negotiate with “I’ll pay you later.” For someone so recently out of jail, and having lost everything to his stepbrother, Mulhall was pretty flush in cash. So where was it coming from?

“I want updates.”

“Talk to Hunter,” Jericho threw behind him as he walked out.

Sebastian steeled himself beforegoing back into his office, coffee in hand. If Jericho said a word about it, he was going to throw the hot liquid all over his face. No, that was a lie and a waste of perfectly good coffee. He’d find something else better to throw at him. A stapler. Or like… a pencil sharpener. Did he have one of those?

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