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still didn’t alleviate the sting. Fucking, Emilio Ibanez; he always had the worst timing to rear his cruel head. Though in all honesty, Sawyer wasn’t worried about the investigation. He had confidence in his cleaning skills and knew a probe of Emilio’s death wouldn’t yield anything of great value. The only thing he dreaded was that the news media would be all over it.
    After Isabel’s father had died and everything came out about his past and abuse of Isabel, the media storm around them had been intense and stressful. It had only recently started to die down, and now this bullshit would only renew the public’s interest in the couple. No doubt the sexually explicit videos of them that were leaked would resurface again and make their rounds as well.
    Dylan had been Denver’s Golden Boy and most eli gible bachelor for years. He had piqued the public’s interest and made his way into the City’s Heart when he was orphaned at 14 after his wealthy and respected parents were heinously murdered. They took even more interest in him when, at the age of 16, he had been emancipated as an adult and was recruited by the NSA at age 17 after hacking into several government agencies.
    But people were fickle and the community had turned against him when they had found out about hi s sexual proclivities and taste for sadism. Luckily, his business reputation preceded him and wasn’t affected, but the exposure, along with everything else that had happened at the hands of Isabel’s father had taken its toll on the couple. Sawyer had done what he could to help them out the only way he knew how – by protecting them from further threats. He wished he could’ve done more, like shielding them entirely from the harsh scrutiny of the media. Everything had spiraled so far out of control, all any of them could do was put their heads between their legs and wait for the tempest to pass.
    With his eyes downcast, Dylan sat on the edge of his desk, scanning the floor. His muscular shoulders heaved with his breathing and he shook his head but remained quiet. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and troubled.
    “Fuck.”
    “I know you won’t listen to me, but you really have nothing to worry about. The powers that be won’t find anything,” Sawyer spoke with cool authority.
    Dylan’s eyes shot up to his. Squaring his shoulders, he cleared his throat. “I’m not doubting your abilities, Morrison; I just want to make that clear.”
    He stood in response and slapped Dylan on the back, a hint of humor touching his mouth and dark eyes. “Of course you’re not. You know better than that, don’t you?”
    Arching a sarcastic eyebrow at Sawyer, Dylan scoffed, “One day of training and you think you’re all that?”
    “I’ve always been ‘all that,’ Son, or have you forgotten Guam?” he snickered low and throaty.
    Dylan rose from his chair and the two tall, broad-shouldered and solid alpha men stood eye-to-eye, glaring at each other before both bursting into laughter. Sawyer was only six years older than Dylan, but he had always felt like a father-figure or older brother to him.
    “Fucking, Guam. How could I ever fo rget? Damn, Morrison, we’ve been through some jacked up shit together, haven’t we? How old was I - twenty?”
    “I don’t recall how old you were, but I do remember you being smug as hell. I’ll never forget your face during our first firefight when I made my first kill in front of you. I thought you were going to shit your pants.”
    “Actually, I’m pretty sure I di d,” Dylan chuckled, walking around to the back of his desk.
    Sawyer grinned thinking about their first outing together. It was the summer of 2002 and the heat and humidity were unbearable when they first met in Guam. Dylan was working for the NSA and Sawyer, the CIA. The mission was a joint agency effort to capture a group of suspected foreign terrorists and one of Dylan’s first time out as a field agent. He was a cocky little-shit-rookie, but