Page 20 of Fool’s Gold

He knew his deep dive would take more than a morning. All these men had long and sometimes colorful backgrounds.

Take Ted Astraukas, for example. He was the chief executive officer of a healthcare conglomerate out in the Southwest. In theory, the conglomerate was nonprofit, but Jack could see that Astraukas was making far too much money in salary for the company to truly be called anything but a cash cow. He portrayed himself as a family man, and Jack supposed he could see where that came from.

After all, he had four different families, by four different women, and was on wife number five at the moment. She had a baby on the way, according to the society pages in Boulder, but it didn’t stop him from getting spotted with plenty of buxom blondes out on the slopes.

Astraukas, when asked about the super flu scandal, had quite rightly said it was a disaster and said the board would “pursue all options to right the ship and restore public trust.” He’d also personally paid half of the former CEO’s legal defense bill.

Interesting.

And then there was Doug Salmon, the retired general with far more money than the military typically provided upon retirement. A sneaky peek into his financials showed significant investments in companies on whose boards he sat and their competitors.

Isn’t that interesting?

He also had prominent roles in several right-wing political groups, which explained his antipathy toward Matt.

By the time lunch rolled around, Jack had given himself a headache, reinforced his dislike of corporate America, and was reconsidering his position on universal healthcare. He’d previously opposed anything that would give folks in right-wing areas a say in his health care, but after seeing behind this particular curtain he might be willing to compromise just to get these guys away from any decisions. At all. Ever.

Matt invited him to go down to the employee cafeteria, and Jack accepted. Anything to stop looking at these creeps. He could almost feel them watching him from the laptop as he left the room.

The cafeteria was crowded, but people seemed generally cheerful as they went about their break. A few people approached Matt to introduce themselves or thank him for keeping the company open. More of them just waved.

Jack would never have thought about approaching the director of the CIA when he’d worked there, but people here had no problem walking right up to Matt and telling him what they thought. It was pretty far from the typical stodgy, hierarchical company people saw on TV.

Matt treated everyone affably, but Jack could see how much the effort strained him by the time they got their lunches. They ate in companionable silence and then headed back toward the elevators.

It was there that they saw him—a tall slim man with long dark hair pulled into a ponytail. He wore the kind of coverall people wore on the production line to avoid contaminating the medication but no hairnet, and he carried a handgun in each hand.

When he saw Matt, his eyes lit up, and he started firing.

Jack tackled Matt to the ground. Employees screamed and ducked under tables, trying to avoid stray bullets.

A bullet flew past Jack, close enough for him to feel the heat on his cheek.

Underneath him, Matt let out a little growl. “Fuck this.” The shoulder holster under Jack’s jacket suddenly felt a little lighter. The ensuing gunshot nearly deafened him.

The assailant collapsed with a scream.

Jack jumped up and ran toward the stranger. He kicked the guns away, not that he needed to do much. Matt had shot the man clear through the shoulder, and if he regained the use of that arm in the next year Jack would call it a miracle. He flipped the man over, handcuffed him, and then used his blazer as a bandage.

Matt hauled himself to his feet, Jack’s gun still in his hand. “If someone could please call 9-1-1, I’d be much obliged.”

For a horrible, terrifying second, no one moved. The only sound came from the elevator machinery. Then, Matt’s workers jumped into action.

Things moved so fast as to be a blur after that. Security arrived on the scene within seconds, local police not long after. The gunman turned out to be part of a local anticorporate group who’d latched onto a support group for grieving families. Fortunately, he wasn’t a particularly good shot.

It was time to get Matt home. Jack wasn’t taking no for an answer. Sure, Matt had survived and had taken his assailant down himself. Jack could be proud of him for that. He still wasn’t going to let him stick around at the office. Matt was still a civilian, and civilians tended to take things like shooting someone pretty hard.

For all Matt’s stoicism at the time, he didn’t turn out to be all that different when they got back to the apartment. Once they were locked in, Matt collapsed onto the couch with his head in his hands. Jack sat down beside him and pulled him into his arms.

He still didn’t like Matt. But he could respect him for what he’d done today. There wasn’t any harm in giving him what he needed here and now, right? And maybe he hadn’t done this for any of his other clients, but none of them had been Matt either.

Jack didn’t notice Norah watching them from the kitchen. And Norah didn’t say anything to them either.

CHAPTERNINE

Matt and Jackdidn’t talk about any cuddling or holding the next morning. Matt was 90 percent sure any reassurance or comfort not performed in public was well outside the bounds of any contract or work order Jack had signed, and he didn’t want to remind his bodyguard to bring it up.

He also didn’t want to remind himself that he’d needed it. Being gay didn’t exactly exempt him from some unhealthy masculine stereotypes, but at least he knew that about himself. He’d saved his own life. He’d probably saved several other lives. He should be happy about it. Why couldn’t he just accept it and move on? He hadn’t even killed the guy. He’d wounded him, and that was all.

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