Free IllicitImpulse by Alexa Day Page A

head and looked back out into the parking
lot. Was his boss baiting him or did he suspect something? “That kind of
shit’ll get you fired.”
    Neil’s laughter was sharp and cynical. “Someone’s already
doing it.”
    Shit. “No way.”
    “Seriously.” Neil rubbed the top of his head through
thinning salt-and-pepper hair. “Somebody’s slipping pills out to people.”
    Sweat slowly started to bead on the back of John’s neck. “People
like who?”
    “Who knows?” Neil sighed. “Friends, ex-test subjects, the
media.”
    John straightened. “The media?”
    “I don’t know.” Neil shrugged. “I mean, it doesn’t really
matter who else has the stuff. If it gets out at all, that’s a problem.” He
blew out a breath that fogged the front door. “But shit. The media.”
    John stared hard at him. The media getting hold of these
pills was a much bigger problem than he had caused. First, there would be weeks
of sensationalist coverage, shock journalism with all the sexual trimmings, and
then the resulting media investigation would reveal what he was doing behind
the scenes. He’d go down in the sort of spectacular crash people talked about
for years.
    “Maybe it’s nothing,” said John. “You know how rumors get
around.” He scoffed. “This place is like a high school.”
    Neil shook his head. “It’s not nothing. They’re going to
start an audit committee. You know, just to make sure we’re all being good.” He
shoved his hands into his pockets. “There’s no reason to suddenly start that
now unless someone’s already trying to game the system.” He slapped John’s
shoulder. “That’s nothing you have to worry about though. Your nose is always
clean.” Neil turned on his heel and headed back beyond the reception desk.
“Don’t stay too late,” he called over his shoulder. “Good way to get the wrong
kind of attention, and I’m not giving you a raise.”
    John watched Neil go, laughing at his own joke until he
disappeared down the hallway. Then John returned to his own office. He’d
secured his other materials already—his notes, the supply of pills for his
subjects, everything—under lock and key, but he had a separate ritual for
Grace. Her tapes went into his briefcase. The legal pad he’d used that night
and a folder filled with other notes followed suit. He checked his office for
anything he might have carelessly left out in the open on his tidy,
squared-away desk.
    John leaned on the file cabinet that stood just inside the
door of his office. He pushed his glasses up and pinched the bridge of his nose
between his thumb and index finger. The important thing was not to panic. Panic
would be noticeable. Panic also begat carelessness, and if the auditors didn’t
catch on to his discomfort, they’d certainly pick up on carelessness.
    Listen to yourself. You don’t even know there are
auditors yet. You only know what Neil’s heard, and that’s not airtight
information at all.
    He let his glasses drop back down onto his nose and took a
deep, centering breath before he turned out the lights in his office. He
wouldn’t let Neil or his wild rumors bother him.
    They did bother him, though, and by the time he got home,
John was forced to admit that his efforts to shake off his nascent paranoia
were not working. He sat on the couch and stared at his BlackBerry for what
felt like a long time before calling Grace. Just as he started to wonder if it
was too late to call, she answered.
    “Hi.” She sounded cheerful. Not too late then.
    “Hey.” What was he really calling for? He didn’t even have a
suggestion, much less a plan. “Hey, Grace, it’s John.”
    She laughed. “I know it’s you. You’re on the caller ID.”
    “Right. Of course.”
    “So what’s up?”
    “Listen, I was thinking.” That was all he could say for
sure, wasn’t it? That he’d been thinking. “I wanted to— I was thinking of a
little change in plan.”
    “About the threesome?”
    Was she teasing?