Jack tugged on his tie. His gray tie. Outside the dark tinted windows of his limo, the world whizzed by in shades of charcoal and ivory. The privacy panel was up, locking him into the gloomy, solitary interior. Just as it should be.

Two sharp beeps interrupted the silence. He considered not answering Wolfe's call, but that wouldn't deter his head of security. The man was relentless. One of the reasons James had liked Wolfe so much.

"I'm on my way to lunch. Can this wait?"

Wolfe's baritone voice echoed in the limo. "Only need a few."

Jack somehow doubted this, but set his phone on the empty seat beside him. "Go."

"Got a call from SS. Seems you did well on the golf course last weekend." Of course he did. He knew how to play the game of golf and of CEO. Born and bred for it. Laugh at the right time, act important, be important, pretend to be impressed and more often impressive. "Back channel intel says there's an offer on the table."

Jack forced himself to smile, even though Wolfe couldn't see it. Part of the uniform, getting into character. "As it should."

"Your ex-assistant finally signed the NDA, so that's over with." There was a slight hesitation. Tension pulled Jack's shoulders together. Wolfe was brutal and straightforward. He wasn't going to like this.

Wolfe huffed. "Are you sure Mrs. Monero and Ms. Wild won't try to profit off your little jaunt last weekend?"

The one thing he could count on was Solana didn't want anything to do with his money. "I'm sure."

"And the neighbour?" Jack could hear paper shuffling. Wolfe was old school, liked printed copies organized in file folders. He hated when he walked into his clean and clutter free office to find one of the navy-blue missives marring his desk. Bad news wrapped in the colour of trust. "Mr. Fernandez?"

"Abraham? He has nothing." Not true, he had Solana. She'd probably already forgiven him for the lies over the money. "No need to worry about him."

"I always worry. It's what you pay me for." The truth slithered along his spine. Wolfe had job security. There would always be something to worry about in his world. A part of Jack screamed someone should worry about the real him and not the persona he displayed to the world. He closed his eyes and counted slowly until the useless notion drifted away.

The car rolled to a stop. "I'm here." Jack hung up on Wolfe and cracked open the door. The bright California sun blinded him. Slowly the world rushed in, the green leaves of the palm trees, the blue of the cloudless sky, the red awning of the restaurant name.

They chose to meet here because the location was within walking distance for Ethan, but far enough from the hospital, Jack didn't have to be reminded his friend was a doctor.

He crossed the black and white tiled floor as the hostess lead him to their usual table. Ethan waited for him, wearing a grey suit today, a tall glass of sparkling water before him. The doctor never drank anything outside of water or coffee when he was on a shift.

"Jack. You made it." Ethan rose and instead of a handshake, embraced Jack in a light hug.

The faint whiff of astringent that always seemed to accompany the man turned Jack's stomach, yet he let himself sink into his friend's embrace. He counted to five and pried himself away. "Man has to eat."

Ethan studied him as they took their seats. "I appreciate you finding the time."

Guilt bubbled in Jack's chest. No matter how gruff he was, how bad a mood, Ethan always treated him with a kindness Jack was sure he didn't deserve. With effort, he shook off the bad mood that had clung to him like a black cloud and focused on the good right in front of him.

"Always for you." Jack shook out his napkin as a server placed a glass of scotch before him. "Sparkling water for me as well," he instructed.

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "On a cleanse?"

"Can't I try something new?"

"We've been coming to this restaurant once a month for years. They know you so well, you don't even have to order anymore." As if proving his point, two chef salads, one with extra cucumbers, landed on the table. "You're the one constant in my life of emergencies I can count on."

He meant the statement as a compliment, but the words grated against Jack's skin. His normal routine pinched lately, like a pair of new shoes a size too small. The office air tasted stale, his penthouse too quiet, and he hadn't been back to Cloud 9 since the night he ended up at Solana's.

Jack pushed a tomato across his plate. The red sphere mocked him, and the urge to throw the fruit and the entire salad across the room boiled under his skin. There hadn't been any contact from Solana since they'd argued at the breakfast table. What did he expect? It's not as if she'd show up at his office again with an apology. Not her style. She was... well, too much like him. Stubborn.

Things were better this way. She'd be the one that got away and he could use the fantasy of her to fuel his nocturnal emissions. In his experience, fantasy was better than reality. Reality disappointed.

"I..." Jack pressed his thumb against the handle of his knife. "Having a bad day, I guess."

Ethan frowned. "Is it work? Company problems?"

Pushing his plate away, Jack folded his arms. "Always."

"Maybe this will help." His friend pulled a white envelope from his jacket pocket. "A new list."

A spark of joy lit in the cavern of Jack's chest. He removed the single sheet of paper and studied the handwritten list.

"I wasn't sure if you wanted ten or nine." Ethan tapped on the paper. "Is Mrs. Monero part of this month's tally?"

"No. She's a special case." Jack scanned the black letters, making up the ten names on the list. Beside each was a number and a brief description of their reason for being in the hospital. Broken leg, trouble breathing, heart attack. Ethan never gave specific medical information, only general conditions. At the bottom sat the grand total.

"This month was full of tough choices. Something about the beginning of the year or post holiday and we see a spike in hospital visits. So many people are in need of help." Ethan took a sip of his water. "Everyone on this list failed to provide any type of insurance. Their hospital visits would put them in debt for years, if not for you."

Jack pushed the paper across the table. Ethan's face pinched. "Something wrong with the list?"

Even after all these years, his friend doubted him. Just as Ethan had the day Jack proposed their arrangement. For weeks Jack had sat in one of the most uncomfortable chairs in the world, watching his uncle come to terms with the fact that death could not be delayed no matter how much money James offered. Once that realization settled in, James lashed out in anger like the devil with his tail caught in a vice. Jack took the verbal beatings, his thick mental hide use to the abuse. Yet he cringed as nurses, forced to tend to his uncle for a paycheque withstood the barrage of insults.

Ethan found excuses to pull Jack from the room, take a break from his vigilance. During one of these interludes, Jack had been sitting in the small lounge area with Ethan when an older woman emerged from the room of another patient, slumped against the wall, and wept. Jack hadn't meant to stare but in some morbid way he was oddly jealous of the outpouring of grief he was witnessing. This woman cared enough about whoever sat on the other side of that hospital door to not only hide her tears from the room's occupant, but to be unable to hold herself together enough not to cry in public.

"Is someone she loves dying too?" Jack had asked the doctor sitting on the chair beside him.

Ethan lowered the paper cup he'd been about to drink from. "In a manner."

A nurse jogged across the hall, put an arm around the woman and held her. Jack's throat ached from the desire to be comforted in a similar fashion. Coffee sloshed against the sides of his paper cup and his eyes stung, yet he couldn't look away.

"Her daughter is sick." Ethan shifted in his seat.

"With what?

"I'm not at liberty to say."

"Right." From her pocket, the woman pulled a tissue and began wiping at her nose. "Can anything be done?"

"Sure. Got a spare seventy thousand dollars lying around to pay for the medicine her daughter needs?"

The sand-coloured walls of the hospital had misted as Jack's vision blurred. Since accessing his trust fund, he made more than that a day with the interest alone. With a few taps on his phone he could have the money deposited in this woman's bank account in days. "Don't they have insurance?"

"Sure. They claimed her illness is a pre-existing condition." Ethan nodded in the direction of a couple trailing a teenager on crutches moving down the hallway. "The Fourier's don't. They had to get a payday loan to cover his broken leg."

"How much?"

Ethan's shoulders rose and fell. "In the ballpark of five grand."

The coffee cup jerked in his hand. "That's nothing."

"To you." Ethan's dark eyes met Jack's. "For The Fourier's, that kind of money is a fortune. Worse, they'll spend ten times as much paying off the loan."

His fingers tingled, the sensation travelling up his arm, settling under his breastbone. "Could I give them the money?" The question breathed out of him, barely a whisper.

The chair squeaked at Ethan's sudden movement. "You'd do that?"

From down the hall, James's voice had raged a string of curse words as if he'd heard Jack's quiet offer to give away money like a sonic boom. Jack flinched, his gaze dropping to the floor. He shouldn't be offering to help strangers; his priority was finding his uncle a miracle cure.

A wide hand landed on Jack's back. The tender touch should have shocked him, but instead the warmth had been comforting. "Jack, such a gesture could drastically change The Fourier's lives. For the better."

Jack hadn't know if he had been motivated by Ethan'scompassion or a defiance of everything his uncle stood for, or by somethingelse entirely, but a steel rod had formed in his spine that day and an unlikelybargain was struck. Each month Ethan would provide the names of the ten people inthe worst financial trouble at the hospital and Jack would cover all theirmedical expenses. Not only did Jack get to keep in touch with Ethan,  something he could never estimate the valueof, but the additional charitable act had turned into one of the few things that gave Jack genuine pleasure. Unencumbered, no strings attached. "Double it."

The pinch look melted as Ethan's mouth fell open. "What?"

"I want to do more."

The corners of Ethan's lips turned up as his head shook slowly. "You never cease to amaze me."

"It's just money."

Ethan's gaze held his. "It's not and you know it. These people will receive a gift that will alleviate more than the financial pain of their hospital stay. Your anonymous donations give them hope. Hope in a world that desperately needs the notion. Hope in humanity."

"We've been over this. I'm simply evening out the scales. What they take from the finanical gift is their business. You choose the cases, I provide the money. You get all the credit." Except Ethan hadn't, submitting the donations as an anonymous gift to the hospital, despite repeated pressure to reveal the source.

"You sell yourself short, Jack." Ethan crossed his arms. "If anyone knew about this, your playboy image would be tarnished. Might make people look at you in a different light."

Exactly why he used his personal funds. No one, especially Wolfe, knew about his donations. Wolfe would want to spin the actions into positive press for Blackhorne and Cauldwell. Jack wanted this one thing for himself.

For a flash, he wondered what Solana would say if she knew each month he paid one hundred percent of the hospital bills of the patients Ethan suggested. Jack's heart stuttered. Then he remembered he'd never talk to Solana again. No chance of her finding out. It was better this way.

Jack leaned forward. "No one will ever know, right?"

"I promised when you first suggested this, I won't tell a soul. And I'm a man of my word."

The knot in Jack's stomach unwound. Ethan was the one person left in this world he could trust. "Good. I'll have the funds transferred tomorrow."

Ethan lifted his glass. "To good deeds."

Despite himself, a lightness radiated through him as he raised his glass with his friend. While he'd never admit anything out loud, a warmth unique to this moment, doing something not based on expectations, spread across his chest.

"Speaking of good deeds." Ethan returned his glass to the table. "Mrs. Moreno is coming in for her last check up Thursday afternoon."

The balloon popped and all the lightness floated away, replaced by a lead ball. "Why tell me?"

"You asked me to keep you updated."

"She doesn't need me anymore." The scotch burned his throat as he took a sip. "No need to mention her again."

Hey DL here. Well - did you see that one coming? Jack is secretly paying the hospital bills of people who can't afford health insurance.

When I first considered writing Jack's story I had to find "soft" spots that he hid from others, like his wife Ali but would not come as a huge surprise. I mean, he's not going to start having his photo taken with the homeless like his ex-wife. Does this little act of defiance work?