Page 6 of Watcher
Foster:It’ll take me at least half an hour to get there.
He wouldn’t pretend he didn’t know where Atticus worked.
Atticus:I can entertain myself that long.
Goddamn yes, he could. Foster had witnessed his talent firsthand, and wow.
Foster:On my way.
Foster stood and shoved his phone in his pocket. He jogged down the stairs, crammed his feet into a pair of shoes, and wasout the door. Thankfully, none of his brothers were around to stop him. He feared for anyone who slowed him down now. Maybe he couldn’t find the words to explain why he couldn’t stay away, but Foster also wasn’t one to lie to himself. Atticus had him twisted into knots. Foster had to find out why.
Chapter Four
Thehandsonhisoffice clock moved slower than usual. Atticus kept his gaze locked on the wall where the stubborn object barely clicked. He had stuff to do. Atticus should be doing those things. Instead, he simply reminded himself how much he hated time. If he wanted the day to move its ass, time slowed. Anytime he dreaded anything, time flew. Hours, minutes, seconds — they were no one’s friend.
The intercom on his desk buzzed.
Atticus hit the button so fast and hard, he was certain it would never work properly again. “Yes?”
“Mr. Agafonov is here.”
“Send him in.”
Foster strolled in, looking stone-faced and out of place. Yet the guy carried himself with all the confidence of the elite. Maybe Foster didn’t care about expensive clothes; he could still don them and fit in anywhere. Mhmm. He was just big and… big. Damn, he made Atticus curious about what he looked like beneath his clothes. Foster also held a paper bag with a twill handle. That, too, piqued his interest, but he would be damned if he asked.
“Did you have any trouble entering the building?”
Foster shook his head. “In fact, three different people asked me if I’d like something to drink.”
“Good. They were told to treat you like my guest, since you are, obviously.”
“Did you get your hip checked out?”
Atticus held back laughter. No one could say Foster wasn’t determined. “Hairline fracture. Nothing rest and ice won’t fix.”
“Yet you’re not at home resting.”
Hell would freeze first. Atticus motioned toward a leather couch facing a view of the city. “Sit down. I’ve ordered sushi.”
“I don’t like sushi.” Foster headed for the couch as he made the claim.
Atticus joined him. “I know. The sushi is for me. I ordered you a burger from that disgusting place you like.”
“How do you know what I like?”
Atticus didn’t bother answering the question. “We’ve established you enjoy watching. I like when a man stronger than me ties me up and hurts me.”
“Sounds like I’m not your guy. You’ve already put me on my ass.”
Damn, he honestly enjoyed every second he spent with Foster. He hid nothing. Atticus loved a straightforward man. “I had rage on my side.”
“You had skill in your corner. If I’d known your anger was for Tracker’s sake, I would’ve been on your side. I also wouldn’t need to bring you this.” He passed the bag Atticus' way. “It’s the replacement shirt I promised for the one I ruined bleeding on it.”
A laugh burst from Atticus. “You could’ve stolen one from my closet and given it back to me. I likely wouldn’t have noticed, but thank you for keeping your word. Your broken nose healed nicely.”
Foster’s expression didn’t show an ounce of emotion at the observation. “My brother is married to a doctor, but you knew that, didn’t you?”
Foster had been honest with him since the moment they met. Atticus couldn’t let his ego stop him from doing the same. He was in therapy for that. “Have you forgotten I’ve met all of them? But I know what you’re getting at, and of course I’ve thoroughly researched your family. Unfortunately, I don’t know nearly as much about your family as you’d think. There’s no information about you before you popped up as Foster Agafonov from thin air. Almost as if you don’t really exist.”
