18% Gray

by Anne Tenino

  The shotgun did fuck-all to the bird, of course. He knew Matt was about to get drilled in the head, and he leapt in desperation, shouting “No!” and pushing the command out mentally without thinking. He took Matt down, waiting to feel the hit on his own body, but there was nothing.

  Well, nothing except the bird exploded, crashed and burned. It definitely exploded first. James turned his head after the shock wave passed and watched the burning SAIA hit the ground.

  It wasn’t a big explosion, which was fortunate considering their proximity. It was more like he’d triggered internal small explosions with his mental command. An incomplete self-destruct.

  Who knew he could do that?

  Shit. He buried his face in his palms, gripping his hair tightly in his fingers. What the fuck was going on with his head? He forcibly put the issue aside and took stock of the situation, instead. He needed to plunder Matt’s leg again—shudder—and get them ready to move out at nightfall. Matt must have some NV tech. Even ancient stuff was better than none. Best-case scenario, he had NV contact lenses.

  He looked down at Matt’s calf, left open after removing the vid hookup. Matt had sleepily told him to leave it that way. James fought off chills again. He hated seeing Matt’s leg like that.

  “Matty.” James shook him gently, gripping his right knee above the “tech pantry.” Matt flailed a little.

  “Huh?” He lifted his head and blinked blearily at James. It was possible James had overdosed him before, but at least Matt wasn’t in tons of pain. “Gonna call Grampa?”

  “Already did. You said hi to him and your, um, Gramma, remember?”

  Matt groaned and dropped his head back on his pack. “No.” He barely kept his eyes open. “What’d they say?”

  “They pinged because satellite recon showed Mountain Home was scrambling SAIA,” James said dryly.

  Matt made a face. “Figured that one out already.”

  “Yeah. Well, Colonel Viteaux has a bolt-hole for us. We’re headed there once I listen to vid 326B.d.”

  Matt snickered. “Colonel Viteaux. You sound like all the other soldiers she intimidates. She’s retired, for fuck’s sake.”

  “The woman threatened my testicles. I’m happy to call her Colonel Viteaux.”

  Matt got quiet again. He looked at James thoughtfully, if a little cross-eyed. “Maybe you should go ahead without me. You can come back for me.”

  “Th’fuck, Matt? You want me to lose my nuts? We’re within two thousand meters of where a SAIA bird self-destructed, and as soon as they read the black box, they’ll know we were here and you’re wounded. No fucking way I’m leaving you here.”

  “’K. I get ya. It’d be stupid. Keep your nuts. Pain’s coming back, need more numb stuff, or ’m gonna use up all m’energy fighting the pain. Won’t be able to walk.”

  “Can’t numb it. Your choice is have some pain and walk under your own power—mostly—or be sedated.”

  “And what, your macho ass carries me?” Matt was getting livelier. The new drugs were working, quicker than James had anticipated.

  “Well, my ass thanks you for the compliments, but I thought I’d pack you out over my shoulder.” James grinned.

  He didn’t get quite the response he expected.

  MATT gaped at James. “Now you decided to be Mr. Playful? Now?”

  James slowly lost his grin and ducked his head. He cleared his throat. “Stress makes me weird sometimes, I guess.” Matt could see his cheeks reddening.

  Now he topped it off with being fucking cute? Matt shook his head. “You’re not packing me outta here,” he snapped. Even if Matt would enjoy James carrying him. Just maybe not when he was unconscious.

  “I’m not numbing you up, either,” James snapped back.

  Matt knew it was a bad idea, and if he was playing medic and not patient, he’d say the same thing. “I know,” he shot back. This guy just brought out the ten-year-old in him. “Nasty bastard,” he muttered. Judging by James’s patronizing, disgusted snort, he’d not been that quiet.

  “Did you give me nano-menders?” He couldn’t stop the surly, apparently. But he was playing patient. Surly was a requirement for the role.

  James gave another small snort—“I’m being very patient with you, and I want you to know it.” “Yes, just like Colonel Viteaux said to.” He added something else in a mumble Matt didn’t pick up.

  “What?” he demanded.

  “I said, ‘I gave you a mild stimulant too, like she told me.’”

  “Ah.” Matt nodded at him smugly. “In other words, you overdosed me earlier.” Dosages were determined by weight, so James must have overestimated his. Wait a minute…. “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  James gave another snort—“I’ve all but lost my patience with you”—and rolled his eyes. He looked at Matt and opened his mouth to retort, but then his expression changed. He looked a little assessing, and a lot concerned.

  “Matt, I think maybe it’s time to give you more painkillers.” James sounded almost soothing.

  “Why?” Matt was suspicious. And he wasn’t about to forget the fat issue.

  “I think maybe I gave you too much of the stimulant Colonel Viteaux told me to give you. Your pupils are huge.” A slow smile broke across James’s face, momentarily dazzling Matt. “Maybe she thought you were fat, too.” He got up and started rummaging in Matt’s pack.

  “What?” Matt tried to twist around and look at James, but his injured shoulder was making it impossible. Suddenly, a big hand grabbed his forehead and forced his head back onto James’s hard thigh. Then James shoved the hypo-mister up his nose and dosed his sinuses.

  “Gah!” Matt kicked and flailed ineffectively. “Bastard!”

  Within a minute Matt began to relax, tension seeping out of his body.

  CAUTIOUSLY, James lifted his hands off Matt’s face. Matt relaxed further into James’s leg.

  “Jesus,” Matt sighed after a few minutes. “That was fugly. Sorry.” He kept his eyes closed.

  James put his diplomatic training to use and refrained from agreeing. He wasn’t up to disagreeing, though. Matt’s pupils had begun to shrink, James saw when Matt finally opened his eyes. James relaxed a little too. Matt’s eyelids began to look heavy again. God, James just couldn’t get these doses right.

  “I should probably tell you I’m very sensitive to drugs.”

  James rolled his eyes again. “Yeah, I was figuring that out.” Guess he shouldn’t have increased the dose Colonel Viteaux had indicated for the stimulant.

  Matt didn’t move off James’s thigh, and James was content to let him rest there. Matt stretched out along the dirt and rock littering the cave floor, long and lean. He turned his head a little and nuzzled his ear into James’s thigh, making little contented noises in his throat. James was pretty sure he didn’t realize it.

  Matt turned his body to the side, curling up a little and nuzzling James with his cheek, now. Tentatively, James moved one hand back to Matt’s head and stroked his hair gently. Matt nuzzled into James’s hand now too.

  “Mmmmmm, feels good,” Matt slurred sleepily.

  From one extreme to the other. James ran his fingers through Matt’s hair over and over, just watching his squared-off, tanned hands run through Matt’s light hair. It was just long enough to fall silkily between James’s fingers. Which was just enough stimulation for him to begin feeling his heartbeat in his cock.

  A soft snore from Matt startled James out of his reverie.

  Damn, he’d overdosed him again.

  Instead of getting up, like he should, James kept looking at Matt. He looked peaceful. James shouldn’t disturb him. Moving might wake him again. Just a couple more minutes, then Matt’d be out enough….

  Matt wasn’t any shorter than James, but James thought of him as sort of a small guy, because he was so wiry and sleek. Matt’s personality was much bigger than that, though. Where James thought of himself as boring and stoic, Matt was animated and mischievous. He was dependable, sure, b
ut he was vital.

  And sensual.

  James didn’t know, but he liked to imagine Matt was a complete hedonist in bed. James always had a hard time going with the flow, and he found men who could completely wallow in pleasure a huge turn-on. He’d bet Matt was a guy like that. A guy who didn’t need to be in control.

  Without really thinking about it, James unsealed Matt’s shirt. Earlier, with blood everywhere and frantically applying pressure patches, he hadn’t had time to look, or even think about looking. But he wanted to.

  Matt’s chest was smooth and the skin there was much paler than on his face and arms. The only hair was a dark-blond happy trail, below his navel.

  Matt had to have the sexiest nipples James had ever seen on a guy. They were large and pink, just hanging on to the bottom of Matt’s pecs. Like they were about to drip off. James skated one fingertip lightly over one. God. Hard. He only just managed to make himself move his finger off.

  He distracted himself by looking lower. Some distraction. Matt had beautiful abs. Even resting, they stacked in well-defined furrows. James’s fingers shook the tiniest bit as he forced himself to reseal Matt’s shirt before he got too handsy.

  Christ, he was perving on a wounded guy. A guy he’d drugged into unconsciousness, even. He was an object lesson for whom not to date.

  James’s dick throbbed anyway, uncaring about sexual ethics. For just a second, he almost let himself unseal Matt’s shirt again and jerk off until he came all over Matt’s chest. He’d lick it off when he was done. You know, clean the guy up a little.

  James shook his head, hard. He’d let this get way out of control. He closed his eyes resolutely and pictured Colonel Anais Viteaux. His cock withered.

  He needed to put a new shirt on Matt, but he was afraid of getting carried away again. Gently James picked Matt’s head up, shoved his pack underneath, and let him rest.

  IT WAS two hours before nightfall—an hour and forty-eight minutes since Matt was wounded—when James sensed someone nearby, searching for them. A male someone, felt like. Coming up from the creek bed. Someone and… something.

  Could it be a dog? It was an animal, he was sure. Fuck. Neutralizing an enemy wasn’t a problem for him, but killing a dog? That bit. Especially now, when he could sort of feel their joy in doing a job, and their blind loyalty to their owners (well, usually). He’d already had to kill a couple of dogs today, and it’d filled his quota for the year.

  This felt a little different, though. More like frustrated patience with its human.

  Maybe not a dog. Whatever it was, they were maybe a thousand meters away, James thought. There was scree and sparse grass all around the front of the cave they sheltered in. The stream was about fifteen hundred meters away, around a curving, steep cliff face. Their particular cave couldn’t be seen from the stream, but if the guy kept looking through all the caves he would find them. And of course, he would.

  Matt was drifting in and out of consciousness on the cave floor. “Matt,” James murmured.

  “Huh?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

  “Going out to check on something.” Matt opened his eyes. He stared at James a second then pushed himself upright, his pack against the small of his back. He nodded wordlessly.

  James cloaked himself in the digi-camo and slipped out onto the path in front of their shelter. It was an old deer trail, coming up from the steam bed. It was the only approach for whoever was hunting them.

  He found a boulder not too far away from the path that looked like it wasn’t big enough to hide a human. Unless the human was facedown in the dirt and covered in digi-camo. Even nearly prone, James could see a good five hundred meters down the trail.

  James concentrated on sending soothing thoughts out to the animal. He was sure animals picked up brain waves from all humans. It wouldn’t hurt to try, and it would help James concentrate on their approach.

  He nearly slapped himself on the forehead when their searcher came around the cliff on a horse. Of course it was a horse. And the guy was Red Idaho Mounted Police. The cheap knockoff of the RCMP. Once Idaho had privatized and opened national forests and parks, RIMPs became necessary to keep up with the increasingly nomadic poor population.

  It was seriously unlikely the mountie had a partner, especially if the RIA militia had pulled this guy off regular patrol and sent him here for a look-see.

  Picking the guy off the horse was easy. James let them pass, then crept up behind the horse silently and pulled the mountie off. “What the—?” James cut off his air and shout, twisting his neck in a practiced move. The mountie’s neck snapped, and he went limp in James’s arms almost immediately. The horse barely shied away. He’d tried to keep a line of mental communication open with her right up until he snapped her master’s neck. She looked at him curiously when he dropped the body.

  While the mare nosed the body—not particularly concerned, it seemed—James ransacked the officer methodically. Two RIA com sets (excellent), NV lenses (bonus), various electronic survival and tracking gadgets (meh), but best of all was the semiautomatic DEW rifle. A sniper’s rifle and a good all-purpose weapon. Jesus, it beat his shotgun all to shit. Not that he’d be getting rid of that.

  The mare carried cooking equipment, a small shelter, food, survival gear, and NV lenses for her, which was a pleasant surprise. James looked at the mountie’s body. Coyotes and other scavengers would take care of it pretty quickly if he left it, but not fast enough. He’d have to cart it somewhere more remote.

  James used Matt’s recoder to locate the mare’s chip, and then to deactivate it. He removed all the tack he could that identified her as RIMP property.

  Finally, he threw the body over the horse’s withers and packed it into the brush, maybe two thousand yards from the caves into a deep drainage. He left the unnecessary tack and cooking equipment with the body. By the time he got back, it was almost dark.

  Time to get Matt and get the hell out of there.

  MATT was mostly alert when James returned with the mare. Alert enough to have concealed himself next to the entrance and be pointing his pistol at James.

  “Glad you came back for me,” he joked nervously, removing his thumb from the safety override.

  James stared at him. “Your Gramma Anais would torture me if I left you here.”

  Matt was the tiniest bit hurt. He scowled at James, who looked baffled. Matt rolled his eyes. Fucking painkillers, turning him into a girl. This emotional byplay was getting as confusing as an actual relationship.

  “Well, just as long as you’re not coming back ’cause you like me.” Matt was trying for wry, but it came out sarcastic.

  James looked even more confused. “Of course I like you. You couldn’t tell?” Then he went red. Instantly, neck to hairline. It was cute. “I mean, I guess I thought I’d been kinda… obvious.”

  It was Matt’s turn to stare. Had anyone else ever seen this James before? “James. I’m a guy, you’re a guy. We may be gay guys, but emotional cues are still something of a foreign language. I mean, I thought you might wanna fuck me, but….” He trailed off, eyebrows raised.

  “Oh, hell yes,” James said roughly. Then he grabbed Matt’s wrist and reeled him in.

  Matt didn’t really have any time to process what was happening before James was kissing him. He held Matt’s wrist and pistol awkwardly squashed between their bodies. His lips were chapped, and he had stubble. And he was rubbing all that roughness against Matt’s lips, tickling them in the most erotic way. James kept brushing their lips together, barely touching him.

  Matt struggled to get his arm out from between them. James started to step back, thinking Matt was pushing him away. Matt snaked his arm behind James’s neck, grabbing his nape and bringing James’s mouth back to his, banging the pistol against the back of James’s head.

  Matt sealed his lips over James’s and forced his way in. James gave him a little groan. Matt pushed up against him harder, rubbing their tongues together and twisting his around James�
��s. He gave another, louder groan and then he was kissing Matt back aggressively, reaching around his waist, taking control.

  Matt reached up with his left arm for James’s shoulders, and the pain brought him up short. “Fuck!” he hissed.

  “Shit!” James yelped and stepped back, gripping Matt’s waist in his hands. “Fuck, did I hurt you? What’d I do? God, Matt, sorry. I just got carried away—”

  “Don’t, James.” Matt slapped his hand—the right one—against James’s mouth, the pistol bumping his cheek. “I did it to myself.”

  James stared into his eyes for a minute. Then he said something, but it was muffled.

  “What?” Matt removed his hand.

  “Maybe this isn’t the best time for this anyway. But I’d really like to do it again, later.” He leaned forward and gave Matt another teasing kiss. Matt tried to follow James’s lips with his own, but James’s hands on his waist stopped him. He growled a little. James smiled. And gave an “aren’t you cute” snort.

  Gah. Big sap.

  Matt let out a big breath and stepped away. “Later,” he said, looking James in the eye, so he’d know how serious Matt was. James’s smile grew.

  “Oh, hell yes.”

  Chapter 11

  “WHERE’D we get a horse?” Matt stood looking at the mare.

  “She was donated to the cause by a mountie. So, think you’re up to it?”

  Matt gave James a calculating look. “Who’s got the bitch seat?”

  “Um, I actually thought you might be safer in front of me.”

  “In front of the saddle?” He’d never fit there.

  “’S one of the new bareback-grip saddles.”

  “So, I getta operate the beast?”

  James snorted. “Definitely not, when you talk like that. How did you grow up on a ranch and not know how to ride a horse?”

  “I know how to ride a horse. I was being funny.”

  “Not laughing.”

  Matt gave a little growl then started toward the horse. He stumbled over a rock, and James caught his arm to steady him. Matt sighed. “Fucking painkillers,” he muttered. He slipped out of James’s grasp and walked more carefully toward the mare. “You couldn’t have found two mounties? Or one with two horses?”