Page 4 of Bare
She’d heard through the grapevine that Dante was Sal’s nephew, which would explain his position at the firm. Even with Armando’s archaic views on Cloud computing, a firm of three accountants, a receptionist, and a bookkeeper couldn’t possibly generate enough IT work to keep Dante busy full-time. Of course, her stepfather had helped her get this job, so who was she to judge a bit of nepotism?
“Sal’s my uncle,” Dante confirmed, “but you know you’re not supposed to talk about him being here. Armando told you that, right?”
Her cheeks and neck warmed. Armando had told her Sal was fastidiously private and that she was forbidden to discuss him or any of his projects, but she hadn’t thought that applied to Dante.
“Right. Sorry. I guess I wasn’t thinking.”
Dante laid a hand on her wrist. “When it comes to my uncle, you can’t afford to not think.”
Unease chilled her spine. She swallowed and took a step back.
Dante released her arm and chuckled. “I didn’t mean that to sound so ominous. My grandpa is whack when it comes to privacy.”
“Your grandpa?”
“Yeah. He’s the reason I have this job. Sal doesn’t like me, but he doesn’t have the balls to cross him. Grandpa’s old school. No cell phone. No email. And when he does call, he’s always using someone else’s phone. He always thinks Big Brother’s watching. That’s why you can’t get into any of the Moresco files.”
Dante’s conversations frequently jumped topics, but she could usually follow his twists and turns. This time, she was baffled.
“I can’t get into your uncle’s files because your grandpa doesn’t like to talk on the phone?”
Dante snorted. “Kind of. Grandpa hates technology. He only let Armando start keeping electronic records a few years ago. That’s why I’m here.”
He pointed toward the table of servers next to his cubicle. “Everyone else might be on the Cloud, but the Moresco files are all on those servers, and the email system is locked down so the files can’t be emailed out. I’ve got the files set up so that Armando and I are the only ones with full access. That’s why all the Moresco files are grayed out on your computer except for the Girard warehouse. I gave you temporary access to those, and I’ll revoke it when the work is done.”
Her watch vibrated on her wrist. She was late for a call.
“Yikes. I have to go.” She headed back down the hall, calling out over her shoulder, “Seems a little heavy-handed for a real estate and construction business, don’t you think?”
Dante’s odd response still echoed in her mind hours later.
“With my family, you can never be too careful.”
Chapter Two
Aleksei Thompson’s phone started ringing as soon as he passed a crooked Balsam fir that served as his mental marker for when cell service cut off on the trail—or in this instance, restarted.
Shit.
He should turn around and walk back up the mountain. He wasn’t ready to talk to anyone yet. Wasn’t ready to lose the clear mind and sense of peace he always found while hiking. Alone in the woods, out of cell phone range, it was easy to let the real world slip away. But reality was like smoke. It always found cracks to seep through.
He slipped his hand into his pocket, found the volume button, and held it down, effectively turning the ring into a vibration. He pressed forward, ignoring the buzz in his pocket and the temptation to flee back up the mountain. He was good at ignoring.
During the past couple of years, he’d become an expert at avoidance, a master of compartmentalizing. He lived. He worked. He occasionally visited his mother and called his sister.He pasted a smile on his face every time anyone asked how he was doing.
He lied through his teeth and said things were fine.
And when he couldn’t take it one minute longer, when his too-keen mind and guilty heart wouldn’t allow him to forget that Phillipe was dead, he hiked. He hiked to find respite from the constant sorrow simmering in his soul. He hiked to forget.
He focused on forgetting now, concentrating on the whisper of the breeze on his face, the mulchy, mossy aroma of spring, and the sporadic glints of sunlight on the glossy green leaves. His spine eased as his legs covered ground in long rhythmic strides. The trees thinned, and the path widened as he neared the trailhead. He lowered the zipper on his weatherproof jacket. It was getting warmer as the chill of early morning waned and the elevation decreased.
Birds chirped. A chipmunk skittered across his path. His hiking boots were quiet on the muddy trail. It had rained almost every day last week, and the nights were still too cold for the ground to dry quickly. A squirrel paused halfway up a loblolly pine, studying him.
Too much wildlife.
Which meant Jaka was too far behind.
Aleksei paused, whistled, and waited. He closed his eyes, focusing on the sounds of the forest. The birds quieted, and the low scuffle of small animals fleeing filled his ears. He opened his eyes, and flashes of black, brown, and white appeared through the trees, followed by the pound and squish of paws on wet ground.
