Free Secrets and Sins: Malachim (A Secrets and Sins Novel) (Entangled Ignite) by Naima Simone

now a steak and a Sam Adams were the last things on his mind.
    “Nobody. I’m fine,” he snapped, shrugging into the heavy wool. Rafe and Chay shared a look. The wealth of “he’s full of shit” in the nonverbal exchange kicked Malachim’s annoyance up several decimals. “You two are going to synchronize periods any day now.”
    Chay chuckled while Raphael loosed a bark of laughter. Malachim, Gabe, Rafe, and Chay were as close as brothers. Closer. Malachim should know. His own father couldn’t stand to breathe the same air as him. Still, while Malachim had chosen law as his path, and Gabriel, writing, Chay and Rafe had joined their career plans together. They leased the second-floor suite of Malachim’s building for Liberty Security Services, their security and information systems firm. Raphael’s pierced and tattooed exterior camouflaged a brilliant, shrewd mind that could create and write code the Pentagon would have a hard time cracking. Partnered with Chay’s analytical brain and razor-sharp intelligence, the pair created air-tight security systems for large companies as well as contracting out their services.
    Their partnership was well-balanced. Not really a people person, Rafe handled the technical duties, and Chay shouldered the business aspect with clients. With his solemn eyes and quiet demeanor, he seemed to inspire the confidence and assurance their mostly high-maintenance clientele required.
    “What’s got your nuts in a knot?” Rafe laced his fingers over his stomach, the insolent smirk that had earned him many hours in detention lifting a corner of his mouth.
    Malachim scowled as he rounded his desk and picked up his briefcase. “You are so eloquent. I just don’t understand why Chay won’t allow you near the clients. Such a way with words you have.”
    Raphael shrugged his wide shoulders. “Me neither.”
    “Maybe because our clients don’t like to be called ‘foolish fuckers with no more sense than God gave a gnat,’” Chay drawled.
    “See?” Rafe waved a hand in Chay’s direction. “There’s your answer. People don’t like the truth, so Chay keeps me locked away where I can cause no harm.”
    Malachim snickered, his irritation over Danielle’s stubbornness and his overreaction to her remark fading.
    “So what’s up?” Chay inspected Malachim’s face. That was the thing about the man who made up the “baby” of their unholy quartet. Long before he’d entered the security field, Chay had made a habit of watching people, of studying them. After being attacked years ago by a man who should’ve been trustworthy, his penetrating gaze rarely missed anything, was always searching for signs. Always ready to react. Defend.
    With Malachim’s childhood of lies, he didn’t trust easily. And Tara’s betrayal had only jackhammered that lesson home. But while his rose-tinted glasses had been peeled off, Chay’s had been viciously ripped away by terror, pain, evil, and death. As a result, Chay watched the world with the guarded sharpness of a wild animal that mistrusted anything walking upright on two legs.
    Fuck Richard Pierce. Hatred for the monster who’d stolen Chay’s innocence seethed and boiled inside Malachim’s gut. He might be on the verge of losing his law license and the firm he loved, but damn if he wouldn’t repeat the decision he’d made twenty years ago. With one exception. He would’ve loved to have been the person who stabbed the pervert in the stomach, rather than being on the clean-up crew after his friend did so. He would’ve chosen to save Chay additional nightmares of murder on top of the ones he probably suffered from Richard Pierce’s predatory actions.
    Malachim shook his head. And for a second bore every minute of his thirty-five years on his shoulders like a heavy, suffocating shroud.
    “Nothing’s up,” he said, replying to Chay’s question. He scrubbed a palm over the top of his head. “I just had a disagreement with my new paralegal.” My