Chapter Fifteen
Lamont had been planning a special meal since the moment he’d found Ewen in that damn textile factory, but the time hadn’t seemed right until now.
The table was set with actual candles. None of the random battery-operated ones would do.
These candles had real wax tapers in simple holders that cast warm, flickering light across the polished wood.
A bottle of Chateau Margaux sat in a wine bucket beside the table, the dark glass already beading with condensation.
Lamont had selected it specifically because it was the kind of wine that deserved to be savored, the kind that complemented good food and better company.
When Ewen emerged from the office, Lamont’s hound immediately perked up.
Ewen’s cheeks were flushed, his eyes seemed brighter than usual, and there was something about the way he moved that made Lamont’s body respond with an urgency that had nothing to do with the smell coming from the dining table.
Lamont subtly adjusted himself, willing his erection to behave.
Not yet. Dinner first. Show him you can do this properly.
“This looks amazing,” Ewen said, his voice rougher than usual.
“I figured you deserved the meal you missed out on the night we met.” Lamont pulled out Ewen’s chair, then moved to his own seat across the table. The distance felt necessary. If Ewen sat any closer, Lamont wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands to himself.
He poured the wine with a steady hand. That was a small victory in itself, considering how much he wanted to skip straight to dessert. Or more accurately, skip straight to carrying Ewen to the bedroom and spending the rest of the night learning every sexy sound his mate could make.
“To finding each other,” Lamont said, raising his glass.
Ewen smiled, raising his own glass. “To not giving up when things got complicated. Thank you.”
The wine was excellent, the food even better, but Lamont barely tasted either.
He was too focused on Ewen - the way candlelight caught in his dark hair, the careful precision with which he cut his meat, the small, satisfied sound he made after the first bite, and the small wrinkles he got around his eyes as he chewed and smiled all at the same time.
“I’ve been thinking about your story,” Lamont said, forcing himself to focus on something other than how Ewen’s lips looked wrapped around the rim of his wine glass. “I don’t think taking it to The Times is a good idea.”
Ewen’s fork paused halfway to his mouth. “What? Why not?”
“If you remember, I told you that Louise had already confided that you’d been scrubbed from the employment records.
The Times is under pressure to keep anything about you or your investigation buried.
” Lamont took a bite of beef, chewing thoughtfully before continuing.
“There’s a good chance they’d take your evidence and kill the story entirely.
They would claim that they were ‘looking into it’ while some intern out back was probably shredding all the evidence you’ve found. ”
“Shit.” Ewen set his fork down, his appetite clearly fading. “I worked there for three years. I had damn good relationships with my editors. Was it too much to think…” He broke off, his jaw tight. “Yeah, I get it. Silly of me. I thought they’d have my back.”
“It’s not about loyalty. It’s about leverage.” Lamont reached across the table, covering Ewen’s hand with his own. “Whoever’s behind this has enough pull to make The Times fold. That doesn’t mean your work was wasted. It just means we need to be smarter about where we take it.”
Ewen’s fingers curled around Lamont’s, gripping tight. “Which outlet would even touch this now? If this mystical ‘they’ has already got to The Times, they can get to anyone.”
“Not anyone.” Lamont withdrew his hand reluctantly, returning to his meal.
“I’ve got connections with several major international outlets.
Der Spiegel in Germany, The Guardian in London, Le Monde in Paris.
They’re outside the immediate reach of US political pressure, and they’ve all got experience handling sensitive material. ”
“You think one of them would run it?”
“I think they’d jump at the chance. Remember that both Hardline and the Arcturus Group have international offices, so it could be argued that the evidence has repercussions for other governments, too.
” Lamont refilled both their wine glasses.
“Der Spiegel especially. They love exposing corruption in foreign governments, and the documentation you’ve got is solid.
We could also approach ProPublica - they’re nonprofit, so they’re harder to pressure financially.
And if we coordinate releases across multiple outlets simultaneously… ”
His phone rang, and Lamont actually jumped because it was so unexpected. Barely anyone called him unless he was working on an active story, and since the business with Giorgio, he hadn’t been.
Pulling his phone out of his pants pocket, Lamont glanced at the screen, frowning when he saw Louise’s name. He held up a finger to his lips, catching Ewen’s eye, then tapped the speaker icon.
“Louise, hey. What’s up?”
“Lamont! I’m so glad I caught you.” Louise’s voice had that same friendly tone she always used, but something underneath it felt wrong, almost forced. It was as if she were reading from a script. “I wanted to follow up about your friend and mine, Ewen Cross. Did you ever find any trace of him?”
Lamont kept his expression neutral, watching Ewen tense across the table. “No, nothing. I checked around Cairo again after talking to you, but came up empty. Then I got an assignment with a London paper…” Mostly true.
“Oh, that’s such a relief!”
Relief? What happened to the concern she’d been showing the last time he’d spoken to her?
“How so?” Lamont asked carefully. “Has he been found?”
“Well, no, at least, he hasn’t turned up at the office, but it turns out there was no need to worry about Ewen at all.
The whole disappearance thing was just a big misunderstanding that got blown out of proportion.
” Louise laughed, the sound too high, too cheerful, and brittle enough to break.
“Apparently, he took a sabbatical from The Times to work on a book. Can you believe it? All that fuss and drama over nothing.”
Lamont’s hound growled low in his chest. Lies. Someone had fed Louise a story and told her to sell it.
“A book,” Lamont repeated flatly.
“Mmhmm. His editor was so embarrassed when they figured it out. Ewen probably just wanted some privacy to focus on his writing, you know? Journalists can be real drama llamas about these things.” Another forced laugh.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know so you wouldn’t waste any more time looking for him. Everything’s fine!”
“That’s good to know, I guess. Thanks for the update, Louise.”
“Anytime. Maybe we can grab a coffee next time you’re in New York. Take care, Lamont.”
The line went dead.
Lamont set the phone down, meeting Ewen’s eyes across the table. The flush had drained from Ewen’s cheeks, and Lamont could see the fox shimmering just beneath the surface.
“They got to her,” Ewen said quietly.
“Sounds like it.”
“A sabbatical. A fucking book.” Ewen’s laugh was harsh, bitter. “Is that the story they’re going with? That I just decided to ghost my job, my house, my entire life to write a goddamn book?”
“It’s a cover story. It’s plausible enough that casual inquiries will accept it, vague enough that they don’t have to provide proof.” Lamont leaned back in his chair. “They’re trying to tidy up loose ends. They want to make your disappearance a non-issue, so people like me stop asking questions.”
“Louise wouldn’t…” Ewen stopped, shook his head.
“No, actually that’s not fair. She would, and in a way, I don’t blame her.
If someone in a suit showed up and told her the right story, and applied the right pressure, she’d buy the story.
She’s got student loans and rent in Manhattan. She can’t afford to lose her job.”
“She sounded scared,” Lamont said softly. “Like, she just wanted to say what she had to say and get off the call - and did you hear that laugh? She didn’t seem scared of you being missing though. It was more she was worried that I had found something, or more to the point, that I had found you.”
“Which would’ve contradicted what it was she was told to tell you.” Ewen pushed his plate away, appetite clearly gone. His hands were shaking slightly, although whether from anger or fear Lamont couldn’t tell. Probably both.
“They’re covering their tracks. Cortesi’s dead, the Cairo contact’s dead, The Times has been leashed, and even Louise has been told a lie she probably believes just so she can keep getting a paycheck.
” Ewen’s voice was tight, controlled. “If I’d died in that basement, they could’ve just made me disappear. Problem solved.”
“But you didn’t die.” Lamont stood, moving around the table. “And there’re at least seven people we’re aware of who now know that you’re out there somewhere, with all your evidence intact. You do realize they’re probably going to escalate the moment you show up in public.”
“Let them.” Ewen looked up, and there was steel in his eyes.
“I’ve got everything backed up, encrypted, and distributed through so many cloud servers it will take them a year to find them all.
They can’t touch what I’ve got, and I won’t let them silence me.
Now we know they’ve compromised The Times, that simply means we go international like you said.
Multiple outlets, simultaneous release, FBI and Inspector General’s office cc’d on everything. ”
“We’ll make it happen.” Lamont rested his hand on Ewen’s shoulder, feeling the tension vibrating through him. “But not tonight. Tonight…”
“Tonight I’m hoping you don’t have any plans to do anymore work. I want to go to bed with you.”
The words hit Lamont like a physical blow - a blow that sent a surge of warmth through his whole body.
Ewen stood up, moving close enough that Lamont could feel the heat radiating from his body. Close enough to catch the scent of wine on his breath and something else - arousal, need, and the same hunger that had been quietly building between them for days.
“No robe this time,” Ewen continued, his voice steady despite the flush creeping back into his cheeks. “I want…I’m ready. For all of it, for everything you’ve got.” He purposely looked down at Lamont’s crotch lump.
Lamont’s carefully constructed restraint cracked.
Three nights of sleeping beside Ewen, feeling the warmth of him, breathing in his scent, and keeping his hands to himself had been its own special torture.
The collar bond hummed between them, warm and golden, but incomplete.
Their bond still needed the claiming bite he’d get from Ewen that would give them the dual claim – the shifter way of claiming.
His hound wanted that bite. He was proudly anticipating them wearing the scar made by Ewen’s teeth on their neck.
Yes, they had a pretty collar, that looked just like a beautiful slim necklace when Lamont was in human form, but that bite mark would let everyone know that not only did Ewen belong to them, but that they - hound and man - belonged to Ewen.
“You’re sure?” Lamont had to ask, even though his body was already responding to the invitation. “After everything today…”
“I’m damn sure.” Ewen stepped closer, closing the last few inches between them.
“I’ve been sure since this morning, watching you work.
Watching you care about my story, about the people who died, about getting justice for them.
I’m sure because you could’ve just taken me to bed the first night and completed the bond, but you didn’t.
You let me heal. You let me set the pace. ”
Ewen’s hand came up, fingers curling into the front of Lamont’s shirt.
“I’m setting the pace now,” Ewen said, and his fox was there in his eyes.
“I want you. I want to make my claiming bite on you as you spill in my body. I want to feel the bond snap into place and know that we’re complete in every way.
I’m not begging, Lamont. I’m telling you what I want. Take me to bed.”
The last thread of Lamont’s control snapped.
He pulled Ewen against him, one hand sliding into that mop of black hair, the other settling at the small of his back. Ewen made a small, satisfied sound and tilted his head up, lips parting in invitation.
“Bedroom,” Lamont growled against Ewen’s mouth. “Now.” And then, because he was a hellhound, he made that happen.