For Immediate Release

by Clancy Nacht

  This was about comfort. Connection.

  Lance ran his fingers through Gideon’s hair as they rocked together, slowly at first, just enjoying each other. In this moment, Gideon stretching him wide, spearing him deep, Lance recognized their similarity of circumstance. Their childhood nightmares were probably the same, growing up in the shadows of their distant fathers, only to be taken from school young and trained in deadly arts. Hours of fighting. Tutors.

  Lance pulled Gideon deeply into him, almost too deep. His nails sunk into Gideon’s back as he silently begged for more. Lance shamelessly gave him everything, relieved to find someone like him, someone who might understand him.

  Their kisses became a celebration of recognition, of surrender to each other, to the strange finality of the act. After this, they might well be forced to kill one another.

  Their bodies collided harder as their speed increased. Nearing release, they hesitated as one, caught in the moment, and gazed at one another.

  This could be it for them. The culmination of their relationship, all laid out in this moment. Lance pressed their cheeks together, feeling the sweat and stubble. Their joined bodies moved in time with their heartbeats.

  Gideon held Lance tight, arms wrapped around him with a strength that defied his wound. Lance lost his breath with every thrust, yet he undulated his hips, greedy for more. Lance’s cock rubbed between their sweaty, ridged bellies, Gideon holding Lance at the perfect angle to not just touch his prostate but pound it.

  Lance gasped, squeezing Gideon’s back tightly as they hurtled toward climax. They were an unstoppable force, rushing at pleasure so fast that Lance held his breath. Lightheaded and elated, he hung on for dear life, almost there. His body twitched once, experimenting with the feeling, and then it was like falling into a pool. Release rushed and ebbed through him in waves as he bit Gideon to muffle his shouts.

  Gideon shuddered and clung, fucking Lance until he couldn’t anymore. Beneath his onslaught, Lance felt liquid, melting down onto the bed boneless and blissful. They kissed again and then Gideon nuzzled him, startlingly sweet.

  It was all Lance had ever wanted, all he’d dreamed of, to be this fulfilled.

  To have someone who understood, someone he could be open with.

  But as the afterglow wore off and they gazed into each other’s eyes, reality asserted itself, casting a pall on their broken tension.

  Lance was promised to Elliot. He was bait for the future leader of the free world.

  Gideon was good. This was so good. But they couldn’t do it again.

  Lance rolled onto his side, and Gideon spooned him from behind, holding him tight. “Just tonight, Kitten. After this…”

  “I know.” Lance brought one of Gideon’s callused hands to his lips and kissed each knuckle tenderly. “No more.”

  Chapter Eleven

  After Lance fell asleep, Gideon slipped from the room and flew back to South Carolina feeling emptier than he had since his father’s murder. He couldn’t afford to think about Lance, even though he was all Gideon wanted to think about.

  Schrader’s son.

  Schrader had shot him.

  Gideon rubbed his arm absentmindedly. While he was with Lance, the injury didn’t hurt, but on his own, taking the elevator back up to his hotel room, the pain provided a distraction, and also justification for disengaging from this situation.

  How Romeo and Juliet.

  They weren’t teenagers, though, and Gideon wouldn’t be swept up in some romantic notion, particularly when the fates of so many more—Lance, Talia, whoever else worked with them—were in the balance. He and Lance had one good night, and it was more than most people had.

  Surveying his room, Gideon realized someone, probably Corey, had searched the drawers and closet, probably for signs as to whether Gideon planned on returning. He’d been ignoring the calls to his service.

  But Gideon had left the recording equipment going—he wasn’t completely unprofessional, Lance-related shenanigans aside—and likely that had assured Corey of his return. Even now, the monitor focused on the senator’s suite.

  Unsurprisingly, Elliot was acting like the spoiled toddler Gideon had come to expect. Susan was nowhere in sight, likely headed to higher ground during the meltdown.

  “But where is he, Corey? He’s not returning my calls.” Unlike a toddler, Elliot was drinking bourbon straight out of a bottle as he staggered around the shambles of the room.

  Corey’s hands were up, held wide, placating. “I don’t know, Elliot, but I know he’ll be back.”

  “There was nothing! Nothing in his room. They said he checked out! Was it you?” Elliot whirled on Jeff, who stood against the wall, making himself small enough as if he hoped not to be noticed.

  Jeff shook his head. “Like I said, I haven’t seen him since he helped me back to my room. Do you think he drugged me to escape?”

  “Escape?” Elliot flopped onto the couch. “Escape from what?”

  Corey shot Jeff a sharp look. “From nothing. He didn’t escape. Something probably came up for his clients and he thought he’d be back by now.”

  “So why did he check out?” Elliot rested his face in his hands. After a moment, his shoulders shook. As much as Gideon resented Elliot, he felt for him. Losing Lance however temporarily was devastating; Gideon related now more than ever.

  In truth, Gideon hoped Lance would find another life, start again somewhere Schrader wouldn’t pimp him out to gain power, but Gideon doubted Lance would. He wasn’t the sort of man to ditch when his friends’ lives at stake. He might take time off to lick his wounds, but Gideon had no doubt Lance would return.

  Hopefully Gideon would be gone by the time that happened.

  He’d known even before he made love to Lance that for his own sanity, if not to spare his life, he had to get out.

  Schrader saw Gideon not merely as expendable but as an active enemy. While getting close to Lance offered Gideon some measure of protection, it also meant Gideon could be used as leverage against Lance, making it more difficult for Lance to escape.

  To really escape, which Gideon desperately wanted him to. Run, Kitten, run.

  Jeff and Corey stood to the side of the room watching in horror as Elliot broke down. He sounded like a wounded beast. The thought that Lance was likely coming back for Elliot made Gideon irrationally jealous. In the back of his mind, Gideon wondered if he had the resources to leave with Lance.

  Could they?

  Then again, what did Gideon really know about him? Sure, they probably had similar upbringings, but their paths had diverged violently. Gideon wasn’t sure he could be the man Lance wanted.

  No, deserved.

  Gideon was, though competent and possessed of a finely tuned intuition, a man who lived on the fringe, always looking over his shoulder. Lance had lived a very public, very ordinary life for years. While clearly he could defend himself, he probably didn’t have fantasies about torturing people. Not real fantasies, based in the knowledge of what it felt like to pull a tooth out by its root. Lance appeared to strive for normalcy, a shoe that wouldn’t fit Gideon.

  “Lance, where the fuck are you?” Corey shouted into the phone and hung up.

  Jeff stood closer to Corey. “What about his wife?”

  “She’s on the stump for him. Someone’s gotta drive the ship.” Corey paced the floor like that might inspire a fix for the situation.

  Staring up at the ceiling, Jeff shook his head and edged closer to Corey. “What did Lance do for him that you think I can do?”

  Gideon’s brows rose. Did Corey know something Gideon didn’t? If Lance wasn’t coming back, Jeff seemed a poor substitute. They had no chemistry, though Jeff was an attractive man. But he was also so young. How discreet could he be?

  Corey glared at the younger man, appearing to realize that as well. “Nothing. You should head out. Go through what Lance sent you regarding running mates. I’ll handle writing tomorrow’s speech. With any luck, it’ll be a victory speech.�
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  Any luck. They didn’t need luck. Schrader was going to steal the primary. Then again, if there was disparity of public opinion with the election results, surely someone would look into it. As careful as Schrader was, how much scrutiny could his plan hold up to?

  Either way, that should be a victory speech. Pitiful as this campaign team looked, they were going to win.

  “Right. Great. Thanks. See you later.” Jeff paused, taking in the scene.

  Gideon could just imagine the tell-all Jeff was already planning to write about this. It would probably make him rich, unless he strayed too close to the truth. In that case, Schrader would kill him.

  With Jeff gone, Gideon switched the SIM cards in his phone and called Corey.

  Corey didn’t answer. He usually didn’t. It was enough to know where Gideon was, and he probably figured that if Gideon was calling, Gideon was where Corey expected.

  As if reassured, Corey put his hand on Elliot’s shoulder and squeezed. “We’ll find him. I need to take a call.”

  Elliot waved Corey off and curled up on the couch to wallow in his misery.

  A few minutes after Corey disappeared from the monitor, there was a soft knock on the door. Gideon let Corey in.

  “Where is he?”

  Gideon shrugged. “He’ll be back, probably.”

  “Where’s he been?” Corey made himself at home on Gideon’s bed. It wasn’t a sexual thing; the flimsy chairs wouldn’t hold his weight. “What’s going on?”

  The lack of concern in Corey’s voice suggested he knew where Lance had been. His real question was if Lance would return.

  “He had a come to Jesus moment.”

  Corey nodded and sighed. “Can’t afford to screw the pooch with him, Gideon. I don’t know what you know, but I respect your professionalism enough to believe you understand who we’re working with.”

  Gideon gave a quick nod. “I’m glad you think so… about Lance, I mean.” He pressed his lips together, then exhaled. “When it comes to him, I’m compromised.”

  “Compromised.” Corey narrowed his eyes at Gideon as he tried to decide what that meant. He looked at the bed he’d sat in, made a face and stood up.

  It was almost comical watching a large man spring off a bed for no reason, but Gideon kept his expression neutral. “Yes. If you’re working with Schrader, though, I’m easily replaceable.”

  “You have beef with Schrader?” Corey leaned against the wall next to the bed.

  Gideon peeled off his jacket and then started undoing his buttons.

  Corey held up both hands. “I’m not going to fuck you.”

  “You wish.” Gideon slipped from his shirt and showed Corey the bullet wound. “That’s from last night, meeting with Schrader. Yes, we have beef. I don’t think it would go well for you to have me as part of this organization.”

  Corey eyed Gideon’s arm and nodded. “I see. I’m a little fuzzy on how all of this works with you guys, but if he wanted you dead, he would’ve killed you, am I right?”

  “You are.” Gideon pulled his shirt back on. “But you don’t want us shooting at each other. It would draw attention.”

  “You tell me you’re compromised, you show me that bullet scratch, and you know what that tells me?”

  This was not going the way Gideon had hoped. He put on his jacket and smoothed it down, leaving the tie undone for the moment. “What?”

  Corey’s eyes glittered, but Gideon knew what he was going to say. “Lance cares about you. You’re leverage to keep him in the game. You go, Lance has no reason to stay, and I have a candidate I’ve invested time and money in with no payout.”

  The idea of Lance caring made Gideon’s stomach flutter, which was such a ridiculous emotion he immediately tried to stamp out. “There are others.”

  “Others I haven’t met. No, you’re staying, Gideon.”

  Gideon stood. Corey was tall, but Gideon was taller. He didn’t weigh nearly as much, but he could loom when he needed to. “Why is that?”

  “Because you’re compromised.” Corey grinned viciously. “He’ll need you to watch his back. And his front. He’s being used as a tool, and it’s clear Schrader doesn’t care about him, but you do. You want some stranger up here watching him?”

  He didn’t. Gideon closed his eyes and tried to imagine leaving. He’d be replaced, probably by Voelker. Gideon didn’t want to think about what Voelker might do with or to Lance, even if he was Schrader’s son.

  Yes, it’d be bad for Lance to be here, trapped with Elliot as some fuck boy, but it could actually be worse if there was no one looking out for him, no one who objected when they wanted to lock Lance up. No one to provide balance.

  Then again, maybe—just maybe, if it was truly awful—Lance would just leave.

  Or, again, Gideon had the fantasy of grabbing Lance and taking off to another country, somewhere without closeted politicians or stolen elections. Somewhere they could get drunk and high and enjoy their lives.

  It took a moment for Gideon to form the answer to Corey’s question. The man was a good manipulator—clearly how he became a kingmaker. But finally, Gideon took his seat at the small table where his computer sat.

  “No. I don’t want anyone else watching him.”

  Corey’s smile was sickeningly victorious, so much so that Gideon averted his eyes.

  Damn. How did he get here? Men like this were normally Gideon’s lunch. Now he’d allowed himself to be talked into staying in a situation that would, smart money, eventually kill him.

  Oh, but to die for Lance. What a glorious death that would be.

  This was insanity. Gideon didn’t want those thoughts, but they floated into his mind unbidden. Defeated, Gideon stared at the monitor, watching as Lance walked into the senator’s suite.

  Elliot jumped up from the couch and ran to him, clinging as if his life depended on it.

  Oh to be so desperately in love.

  Or rather, to be free to express it in such a way. This was going to be torture.

  Gideon liked torture. Usually not the masochistic variety, but this time... Just this once, he tried to savor the exquisite pinch of longing in his chest as he watched Elliot and Lance kiss.

  “I’ll stay.”

  Corey clapped Gideon’s back and glanced at the monitors. “Ah, looks like he’s back. All’s well that ends well, right?”

  Gideon never cried. Not even when he found his father shot to death in their home. But he wanted to cry. He wished he could. After all the careful years avoiding love, attachments, Schrader … It was all undone, for just one man.

  He swallowed again and gave Corey a smile he hoped looked less awkward than it felt. The way Corey stepped back with his brows up suggested Gideon’s effort wasn’t entirely successful.

  Lance was back. They were all strapping into their seats, cranking slowly up the hill, chains clanking against the rails, waiting to see where this ride took them.

  Chapter Twelve

  Before Lance returned to South Carolina, he made arrangements with Talia, Ian, and Gretchen to return from hiding. Unlike the previous time he’d escaped his father, Lance now had attachments. Schrader would no more mourn the death of Lance’s friends and coworkers than he would a cockroach he crushed under foot.

  It was only to Talia that Lance confessed the depth of this mess.

  “Your father is Magnus Schrader? The Raider group?” Talia asked, a note of skepticism in her voice.

  “Yes.”

  “Hm.” She took a moment to process. “I’ve worked with them.”

  Lance knew better than to ask questions. He just accepted that. “They’re stealing the election.”

  She didn’t sound surprised. Maybe she’d worked on some part of it. He never looked too hard at her freelance activities. “You need me to work on an exit strategy for you?”

  He was surprised and humbled by the offer. Though he was curious what she had in mind, escape was too dangerous to contemplate. While increasingly hysterical voicemails
from Elliot and Corey piled up, Schrader called not even once.

  He didn’t need to. Lance could feel eyes on him.

  “No. Just keep yours and everyone’s heads down.”

  “Got it.”

  Lance hung up, then wondered again what Talia could or would do for him. As a rule, she was unflappable; it was, as he had understood, her nature. She clearly understood who Schrader was, but she was willing to defy him.

  In the moment, he had thought she was simply taking care of him as she always had, but as he thought about it, her bravery was unsettling. Even Gideon had shrunk in Schrader’s presence. It was what most people did.

  Perhaps it was just hacker swagger, but Lance gave himself a moment to wonder if she could be sufficiently well-connected to spring him from this situation.

  What she was connected to, however, could be worse.

  He wasn’t desperate enough yet to seek asylum without knowing what he was agreeing to.

  As far as situations went, being forced to spend time with an attractive, powerful man wasn’t the worst, even if Elliot’s obsession bordered on ridiculous. Lance tried to be understanding. Elliot had probably never had a first love, so his acting like a thwarted fifteen-year-old wasn’t surprising, but it was tedious to deal with.

  Especially since, unlike starry-eyed teenagers, he held significant power over Lance. More power than either of them had realized until now.

  As Lance returned to the hotel, he tried to put all that from his mind and appreciate the tall, charismatic, beautiful man for who and what he was.

  “Where were you?” Elliot asked the moment their gazes met. But he didn’t give Lance time to answer, instead kissing him deeply as if all was forgiven, a small consolation.