For Immediate Release

by Clancy Nacht

  Gideon shouldn’t have been in the closet. If he hadn’t been there—if he’d been in his room monitoring Lance like he was supposed to—he would’ve seen Voelker dressed as a waiter and been able to detain him. Sure, that might’ve gotten messy, and Jeff might’ve gotten in the way, but one way or the other, between Gideon and Lance, Voelker would be dealt with.

  Scenarios played out in Gideon’s head. How would it ideally have gone down if he hadn’t let his curiosity about Lance get the better of him? He’d been so cocky going in there, messing with Lance’s laptop. The fact that it was so well protected told Gideon more about Lance, but he should’ve accepted that and left. Gideon knew Jeff was coming, and granted, Jeff was early, but even if he’d been on time, Gideon was so close to fucking Lance that a few minutes wouldn’t have mattered.

  Throwing open the stairwell door, he heard the hard slamming of feet. Gideon peered over the rails to see Voelker, at least five floors ahead of him, flip him the bird. Sixteen floors were entirely too many to jump from, and Gideon wasn’t fast enough to catch up a five floor difference.

  Taking a chance, Gideon rushed back to the elevators and hit the call button.

  He’d almost fucked Lance. He didn’t even know this guy, not really. Voelker’s parting shot had sent a chill down Gideon’s spine. Not the bird, fuck that, but his laughter at Gideon and Lance working together. Why would that be funny?

  Gideon paced and anxiously hit the call button again. He did an internal countdown of how many floors Voelker had likely covered as Gideon waited for the elevator. No way Gideon would catch him now, but maybe, just maybe Voelker fell down some stairs or was slightly out of shape.

  The elevator doors finally opened, and Gideon got in, thankful for the lucky break of an empty cabin. He hit the ground floor button and mentally urged the doors to close faster.

  Gideon was out of his mind. Lance was in his head. How had he managed it? This man he barely knew, clearly hiding a secret and likely connected to Schrader, if Voelker’s presence was any indication, had won his allegiance.

  Gideon took some comfort that whatever connection existed between Lance and Schrader, Lance clearly wanted nothing to do with him. In that, perhaps, they were allies.

  Maybe. Unless Lance was playing a long con.

  Gideon couldn’t put it past Schrader to play mind games with Gideon, to pull his strings in such a way only to lure him in and kill him. Granted, Schrader wasn’t known for subtlety, but Gideon had to be prepared for any eventuality.

  Finally reaching the ground floor, the elevator opened to a busy lobby. A quick scan revealed no one running out the front door, nor anyone looking perturbed that someone had. No hotel waiters roamed around, so Gideon headed to the stairwell and looked up. No footsteps, but Voelker could have stopped running if he heard the door open, so Gideon ran up three flights of stairs. He opened and closed the third floor door but remained in the stairwell, hoping that if Voelker was still in the stairway, Gideon could fake him out.

  He listened and waited but heard nothing. It was a long shot, so he wasn’t shocked. Just disappointed.

  If he’d been able to find Voelker, maybe he could’ve tortured him to get information. As it stood, Gideon only had access to Lance. Unfortunate, as normally Gideon looked forward to torture—it not only allowed him to vent his anger but granted him a level of intimacy with someone no one else was ever likely to enjoy—but he wasn’t sure how he felt about torturing Lance.

  The closeness would be nice, but it would kill the gentle, wary affection they seemed to share. Gideon had never enjoyed that sort of bond with anyone. Though it saddened him to think of it ending, he’d do what was necessary for survival.

  Sighing, Gideon exited the stairwell and took the elevator up to Lance’s floor. When the doors opened, Gideon heard voices. He peeked out to see Elliot at Lance’s door.

  Lance had folded his arms and looked exasperated. “I don’t know. He had a drink and passed out. He’s just not much of a drinker, I guess? I don’t know what to do. Do I just leave him here to sleep it off?”

  “I don’t understand why you two were drinking. You have this man to your room with no one else here, and he gets drunk. Do you have any idea how that makes me feel?” Elliot’s face was red, his fists balled up like he was ready to fight someone.

  Neither of them noticed Gideon, so he slipped back into the elevator and pressed his floor’s button. He couldn’t get to Lance now, but maybe he’d learn something through this fight with Elliot. As punch-ready as Elliot looked, Gideon didn’t think the man would actually strike Lance. If he did, well, Gideon was confident Elliot would regret it.

  By the time Gideon reached his room, Lance and Elliot were fighting above Jeff’s slumbering body. The scene was comical in a dark way. Would Lance admit to the senator that there’d been an attempt to kidnap him?

  Probably not. That would be difficult to explain. In fact, if Lance didn’t want to live in lockdown, he shouldn’t say anything about it, which was probably why they were yelling at each other.

  “Elliot, if I were trying to seduce him, why would I get him this drunk? It just happened!”

  “Did it ever occur to you that maybe he got himself that drunk so he could work up the courage to hit on you?”

  Lance glared at the ceiling. “I didn’t ask for him to be assigned to come into my room, you did.”

  “Yes, but…” Elliot shook his head at the limp body on the bed. “This isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

  “This wasn’t anyone’s plan A.” Lance shook his head and glanced toward the closet. Then he looked with sad concern at Jeff.

  “I guess not.” Elliot took a deep breath and seemed to realize he needed to calm down. His rage made Lance recoil. When Elliot eased off, Lance looked at him more and moved closer. “East coast boys, right?”

  Lance gave a bare smile. “I guess so. I should probably keep an eye on him. Can’t have him choking on vomit in his sleep.”

  “Ugh, no. That definitely wouldn’t be good publicity.” Elliot reached for Lance. “I’m sorry, all right? It was just a shock to see another man in your bed.”

  Shifting his weight from foot to foot, Lance didn’t appear entirely ready to forgive him. “Yeah, publicity. Look, Elliot, we can’t keep having you blow your top at me over… over anyone. You’ll do it in wrong company at some point.”

  Elliot held up his hands in surrender. “I know, I know. I get it. Let’s not fight. Come here.”

  He grabbed Lance by the waist and pulled him in for a kiss.

  Though Gideon had no claim on Lance, he averted his eyes.

  Lance cleared his throat. “Jeff could wake any minute. This can’t be what he sees.”

  Elliot nodded. “Why don’t you come to my room? Everyone’s out. We can make it quick.”

  Judging by Lance’s expression, he didn’t find the idea appealing, but he gave a curt nod. “All right. Quick. But I really do have a lot of work to do, and I’m one man down.”

  The two disappeared from camera range for a couple of minutes until they entered Elliot’s room. There, the proceedings took the usual turn, but for reasons Gideon didn’t want to ponder, watching them turned his stomach. Rationalizing that Voelker could come back to Lance’s room to hide out, or take Jeff, Gideon split the screen and kept his gaze fixed on Lance’s room. He tried to tune out the moaning.

  As much as Gideon tried not to look, though, his gaze drifted to Lance sprawled over the couch in Elliot’s suite, Elliot between his legs, head bobbing as he sucked Lance off.

  They didn’t have time for this. Lance was in danger. Even with the guards that shadowed Elliot and stood outside the room’s door, Lance was vulnerable.

  And Gideon needed to know why Voelker was after Lance.

  Gideon glanced at the side of the screen where Jeff remained immobile and then peered at his own closet where his clean up kit was neatly packed. Closer to his blades and tape, the idea of actually harming Lance was strangely less ap
pealing. But if Lance was unwilling to tell Gideon the truth, what choice did he have?

  Torturing Lance would definitely burn his contract with Corey and Elliot, but cutting off Magnus Schrader’s inroads was well worth the loss in revenue. In fact, if he were being ruthlessly smart about it, even the whiff of Voelker and that crew should’ve run off Gideon.

  At first, he’d been certain the death of Michael Rios was purely coincidental to any association with Lance. Sure, Lance’s ability to stab Gideon in the dark had aroused some suspicion, as well as his ability to stitch up Gideon without flinching, but it wasn’t until Lance’s drunken but dangerous treatment of two professionals trying to kidnap him that Gideon knew for certain Lance wasn’t just a ridiculously fit, ballsy PR hack.

  What was the relation between Lance and Schrader? There wasn’t a time gap in Lance’s social record where he could’ve trained to be a killer. The fact that Lance had a social record indicated he wasn’t active and hadn’t been for years. Then again, by all accounts, Lance had a very shrewd hacker in Talia.

  All of that could’ve been faked. Where did that leave Gideon? His deductions could only be as good as his data.

  What couldn’t be faked was how tender Lance was. He was unflinching in danger, but he had real feelings for the senator. He was needy and soft, not like a contract killer. Lance probably could have snapped the neck or done more damage to Voelker and the other guy who grabbed him, but he didn’t.

  Lance’s moans changed in timbre, and though Gideon willed himself not to watch, he couldn’t keep his gaze from Lance in the throes of orgasm. As beautiful as he always was, with his head thrown back, lips parted, straining after release, he was transcendent.

  What would it be like, to be touching him that way? Gideon had nearly gone there. He’d come dangerously close to playing with that fire. Should he be glad or resentful the hand of fate slapped away that chance?

  Maybe it was a blessing. It would make it easier to interrogate Lance like Gideon knew he had to.

  After a mild disagreement between Elliot and Lance, Elliot took Lance’s place and Lance drew Elliot’s cock out of his suit pants. Lately it seemed Lance didn’t want to be fucked, and while it could’ve been too many rich meals or just his mood, Gideon wished it had to do with him.

  Then he closed his eyes and tried to locate that feeling and block it out.

  No. He could not have feelings for Lance. Or anyone, for that matter, but especially not such an unknown quantity.

  When Gideon opened his eyes again, he focused on Jeff. In his gut he didn’t believe anyone would come for Jeff. There was no evidence Lance had particular interest in him; he wouldn’t work as leverage. But staring at Jeff helped to keep Gideon’s mind off Lance sucking Elliot’s cock or what it would feel like if Lance did the same to Gideon.

  No.

  It seemed that everyone wanted a piece of Lance Gatsby. What did Schrader want? There was a tiny possibility Voelker was working for someone else, but Gideon doubted it. Voelker had spent far too much time attempting to get at Lance for this to be a side job.

  Gideon had never known Schrader to take male lovers. Sure, Lance was an unusual specimen, but Schrader hadn’t been known to take any lovers after his wife died.

  It didn’t take long for Elliot to get off. Lance sat back, wiped his lips carefully, and they kissed again. Within minutes, Lance was back in his room. He went to Jeff immediately, checked his pulse, and frowned, though he didn’t appear upset by his findings. Pulling up one of Jeff’s eyelids, Lance squinted at him and then left the room.

  Gideon stood. Where was Lance going? Was he coming to Gideon’s room? He could've stopped by on the way back, though Gideon wasn’t sure Lance knew what room he was in now.

  Damn it. He should’ve had views of the hallway. He had cameras. He could set them up now, but what good would that do? He should’ve been installing them while Lance was with the senator instead of watching like a pervert.

  Gideon went to the door and peered out the peephole.

  Nothing.

  He ducked his head out of his door and saw no one.

  Fuck.

  Returning to the monitor, Gideon folded his arms and watched. After a beat, Lance appeared again bearing several bottles of water that he set on the nightstand next to Jeff. He propped Jeff up on some pillows and opened one of the bottles to slowly feed him water.

  Very considerate, since the drugs coursing through Jeff’s system would probably leave him dehydrated.

  Gideon sat down and watched Lance play nurse. He was a good guy. A definite white hat. Torture was out of the question.

  The decision wasn’t prudent, but Gideon wasn’t a total monster. That thought, he hoped, would be his solace when Schrader caught him and tortured him to death.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Gideon didn’t realize he’d been dozing until voices woke him. On screen, Jeff and Lance were talking. Lance sat on the edge of the bed. He gave Jeff a bottle of water.

  Jeff sat up. “Sorry, how long have I been out? I don’t even remember…”

  “A few hours.” Lance smiled benevolently.

  “Shit.” Jeff tried to rise, but he appeared too hungover. Must’ve been GHB, given the time he was out and his lingering lack of coordination.

  “You’re not used to the long hours.” Lance got up from the bed and sat at his computer. “Don’t worry, I think I found a couple of resumes worth following up on.”

  Jeff winced. “Last thing I remember was lunch, maybe?”

  If Gideon hadn’t been looking for it on Lance’s face, he probably wouldn’t have noticed the strain in his jaw. It pained him to do what he was going to do. “Yes. You had some wine. That combined with the long hours, maybe?”

  “Maybe.” Jeff rubbed his head. “Fuck, I feel terrible.”

  “Have some more water. You’re probably dehydrated. Alcohol can do that.” Lance turned his attention to his computer. “I’m zipping some files to send on. I’ll take the liberty of saying that we discussed the candidates and blind CC you on it so you know what I chose.”

  His tone was filled with professional disappointment, as if it were Jeff’s fault he’d passed out. The silent accusation was masterful, as was Lance’s slightly indulgent smile. “Don’t worry. I remember being your age, going out until four. You’re in a new town, meeting people.”

  “I didn’t! I haven’t... I don’t usually drink.” Jeff put his feet on the floor and took a long swig of the water. “You think that’s what it is?”

  Lance shrugged, then turned in his chair toward him. “Could be. Take the water back to your room and get some rest.”

  “Am I in trouble?”

  “No, no. Just don’t make a habit of it. An off day is pretty easy to make up for. I may need you to return the favor someday.” Lance smiled and relaxed in his chair.

  “Just professionally, right?” Jeff stood but had to hold on to the wall to get his balance. “No funny stuff.”

  Oh, what a different person Jeff was when he wasn’t drunk or high.

  To Lance’s credit, his expression only reflected surprise at the suggestion. “No funny stuff, whatever that means.”

  Lance stood, packed up Jeff’s computer, and set it in the bag. Jeff took a few tentative steps without the wall and declared himself fit to make it to his room. He took his bag and shuffled out slowly.

  With Jeff out the door, Lance sat down at his computer and stared for a long time. Sometimes he did that, when he was processing. His phone buzzed, and Lance went to it with a slowness, like he was dreading the call. It was the posture he took lately when answering Elliot.

  The wear and tear on that relationship always pleased Gideon, though on some level he felt bad for Lance.

  Feeling again. Damn. He needed to pull it together.

  Lance’s eyes widened instead as his gaze landed on the screen. He punched in his code and answered. “Talia?”

  Gideon couldn’t hear what Talia said, but Lance paled.

>   “Right.”

  Lance hung up his phone and dug in his bag for one of his burners. He punched in a number, held his breath, and then exhaled in a burst. “Talia.”

  Whatever she said, Lance sat down on the bed, his hand at his chest. His breathing grew unsteady. “Was there a message?”

  Lance closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I understand. No, don’t do anything with the body. I have a guy. Get out of there. Go somewhere secure. Take Gretchen and Ian. I’ll call when it’s clear.”

  He hung up, then dialed another number.

  Gideon was pretty sure he knew what it was. It took a few minutes for the call to go to the service and for the service to notify him. Lance’s burner number came up in code, but Gideon wasn’t going to call. He knew what this regarded.

  There was a body, and Lance needed it gone.

  Gideon picked up his kit and headed downstairs to Lance. For this act of kindness, Gideon would make Lance tell him the truth—about his identity, and about his relationship to Magnus Schrader.

  Chapter Ten

  Lance threw his clothes into bags. He couldn’t be certain when or if he’d be back. This was bad, worse than Lance had ever imagined.

  Zed was dead. He’d filed his noon report. Lance hadn’t expected another until midnight, but apparently not long after Lance and Guy had repelled Voelker, That Man set another plan in action. This one entailed murdering Zed and setting him up in his room at Lance’s offices. A note beside the corpse claimed That Man would kill another one of Lance’s friends each day he had to wait to talk to Lance.

  So Lance was going.

  Guy could deal with Zed’s body. Thank God Zed was divorced and there was acrimony. At least his loss wouldn’t reverberate too far.

  Lance had told Talia to take Gretchen and run. Ian could easily lose himself. They shouldn’t need to disappear, but Lance wanted to work with an excess of caution.

  Once packed, Lance headed to the door with his bags. He should call Elliot, but at the moment, he didn’t think he could handle a conversation filled with lies.