by Kai Butler
“I’m afraid that my brother never took me into his confidences, nor left such recordings with me,” Tiral said. “But I may have an idea where they are.”
The lie left his mouth feeling dry. All he had to do was get to Lus where he would be able to find safety. He forced a smile.
“I’m sure a fruitful search would mean that I would be able to provide some recompense,” Ollir said, his eyes narrowing.
“Before I come to any decision about it, I’ll need to speak with my companion,” Tiral said.
“That I’m afraid you can’t do,” Ollir said. “Any decision you make needs to be made now.”
Unhappily, Tiral forced another small smile to cover his growing dread.
They had Tiral. As Zev was left with the man with the gun, the only thing running through his mind was the knowledge that they’d left with Tiral and if Tiral didn’t come back, there was nothing to prove they’d meant anything more to each other than mere friendship.
Friendship. Even if he was able to convince anyone that they’d been lovers, they hadn’t. Not really. A quick tryst in the dark, kisses that had seared so hot into his memory he was shocked that he had lips left to kiss, none of that meant that they were lovers or even companions. At best, Tiral was his student, and the idea that he was nothing more than that made Zev furious.
He wanted Tiral. He wanted him forever. He wanted to be able to promise him love and security and all the things that Tiral had hoped to find with Rit. He understood that there was an easy, legal way to make those promises. The idea seemed less impossible with his own love reflected in Tiral’s eyes and Tiral having shown no disgust, only empathy and deep sadness.
He wanted Tiral to himself. He wanted to show the universe that he’d promised himself to Tiral and been promised all of Tiral in return, and that whatever some gun-toting henchman thought, Zev would risk his life to rescue the man.
“My dear sir,” Zev said. “I need to make a call.”
His guard’s glare turned stony. He shook his head. “All transmissions’re blocked from here. The whole level is shielded.”
“Is it?” Zev asked. He was aware that that would negate most of Ovi’s security measures. He’d wondered why she hadn’t tried to communicate with him. Both his and Tiral’s vital signs must have been a mess. He’d need to find another way.
“I suppose that means that Ollir does his business without any sort of communication,” Zev said disdainfully.
The guard snorted. “‘Course not. 'E has his special lines, o’course.”
“He does?” Zev said. He pulled out his fob, which began searching. It was a top-of-the-line model, with the same technology that they sold to the military, and so it contained a few cutting-edge add-ons that Zev knew would do exactly what he wanted.
While the military used the technology to search for and listen to conversations that were thought private by those having them, it was easy enough to simply swap the command to tap into the network instead.
“'Ey,” the guard said, a frown marring his thick brows. “What’re you doing?”
“Well, you told me that we’re insulated here from any transmissions, of course I’m checking,” Zev said flippantly. He tapped out a quick note to Ovi and shook his head as though unable to find anything. “You’re quite correct. My error in having doubted your veracity.”
“Yeah, well,” the guard said, the gun in his hand slowly lowering. “See that you don’t do it again.”
“Of course, of course, my good man.” Zev gestured. “So I suppose you’re mostly on guard duty, then? You seem quite competent at your work.”
Preening, the guard said, “Just moved up. I was on the shakedown racket before.”
“Is that so? Interesting business?” Zev asked. His eyes flicked around the room, but as before, there was little in the way of either defense or offense available. His guard didn’t seem to be following his gaze, instead waxing nostalgic about his time working his way up through the ranks in Ollir’s organization.
“Ah, yes, fascinating,” Zev murmured to continue the man’s monologue.
Someone knocked on the door, and both of them turned, Zev in curiosity, and the guard with a frown. There was no other noise, but the guard approached the door anyway, his brows drawn together.
“What?” he said, loud enough to carry through the door. Someone mumbled something on the other side and the guard moved even closer to the door.
“What?” He repeated, louder. Again a mumble and the guard drew close, saying, “Can’t hear you, guv. Speak plain.”
The door slammed open suddenly, knocking the guard back. Before either Zev or the guard could react, someone had entered, and punched the guard hard until he released his gun. Zev immediately scooped it up, aiming it at his now-bleeding captor.
“I said, ‘Do you know the galactic punishment for kidnapping one of the richest men in the galaxy?’” the intruder said to the crumpled form, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth. “‘Cause I looked it up and the consequences aren’t ones that you want to get yourself mired in.”
It was the pirate, Rea Dintro. He was wearing the same clothes as earlier, although now two pistols were strapped to his hips, and he had donned a hat that would not have looked out of place in a production of The Mercenary Pirates.
“I thought we were on our own now that we had that most dangerous information?” Zev said. He nudged the guard on the ground with his boot, but the guard barely stirred and Dintro had produced cuffs out of a pocket and bound his wrists efficiently, carefully laying the guard on his side.
“Well, I did begin to feel a twinge of what some might call conscience,” Dintro said. “And then I thought to myself, ‘Rea, what would your nan say if she knew you’d left those two city toffs all by their lonesome, with enemies surrounding them and not a single friend on their side?’”
“And what would your dear nan have said?” Zev asked, curious. He checked the gun he was holding. It was loaded, with half a clip of charge left. It looked like a standard pistol and as far as he could tell there weren’t any bio traps that would lock him out at an inconvenient moment.
“Well, she was a bit of a stickler for hospitality, so she would have said, ‘Rea, dear, it’s your job to see them safely back to their homes, as you invited them to their probable deaths. I’m sure that there’s rewards for those who help others.’”
“You figured out who I am,” Zev surmised. “And realized that there was more money in it for you if you rescued me.”
“You wound me, m’lord. I am wounded by your unjust remarks. My nan believed in rewards in the afterlife.”
“Ah, so of course you’d turn down any monetary rewards in this life,” Zev said. Dintro gestured towards the door, leaning out slowly to check the hallway before stepping out.
For all his casual stride and glib tongue, the man clearly knew what he was doing. His eyes darted towards every camera, every door. He seemed to be aware not just of where they were but where they should be going. When he spoke again, his voice was softer.
“Now, my nan also encouraged no foolishness in her family, so I would, of course, be obliged to accept any largesse in exchange for my meager help.” Dintro tapped something into his fob and paused before they walked into a hallway intersection.
“What gave me away?” Zev asked, matching the pirate’s volume.
“Nothing you did, nor anything your man did,” Dintro assured him. “But we were able to trace the money. Someone did a good job cleaning it, but once it’s been in a bank, we have ways to find out whose account it came from.”
“It sounds like you have capable men on your team,” Zev said. He wouldn’t mind poaching whoever had the ability to track money that Ovi had wanted to hide.
Dintro tsked and shook his finger at Zev. “Don’t think I can’t see the avarice in your eyes, m’lord. You’ll stay away from my crew and we’ll help to make sure that you get out safe.”
“Of course.” Zev grinned. Whatever Dintro
was waiting to see on his fob obviously appeared and they moved across the hallway and began looking for a specific room.
Zev’s own fob buzzed and he pulled it out to check. There was a single message from Ovi. Get down.
Without explanation, he pulled Dintro down with him, flat against the floor, and a solid boom hit the station. Lights flickered for a moment, and then he heard boots in the hallway. Pulling himself to standing, he held out a placating hand to Dintro.
“Your rescue, I assume,” Dintro said drily, ignoring Zev's outstretched hand. He raised both palms up as the assault team came into view, their dark clothes and heavier weaponry marking them as professionals.
“Mister Laft, I’m Captain Maston, and these men are under my command,” one near the right flank said. “If you’ll come this way, we’re here to rescue you.”
“No,” Zev said, shaking his head. “We have to find Lord Gret.”
“Sir,” the captain said, his mouth tightening. “Your second made it clear —”
“That I’m an adult and that we’re going to go find Lord Gret,” Zev bit out the words and gestured for Dintro to lead the way.
“Think they’re fond of each other,” Dintro said to one of the security men who’d surrounded him and Zev, protecting them from all sides. “This way.”
They found the next hallway guarded by two men, who looked shocked and overwhelmed by the sudden array of weaponry they found pointed at them. Easily handing over their own guns, the men were on their knees while one of his rescue squad began reading them their right to silence. Zev raised his eyebrow in surprise. He glanced to Dintro, who seemed calm except for the way his eyes flashed around him quickly, as though cataloging his exits.
“You’re police,” Zev said to Captain Maston.
“Yes, sir.” Maston gestured. “If you’ll step this way, sir.”
He gestured Zev and Dintro out of the way as two of his men took down the door with a small device that effectively blew it inward. The small boom that the explosion made was satisfying. The officers swarmed in, and Zev followed behind before their captain could stop him.
The room was strangely silent as Tiral was standing very still, a gun held at his head by Vee Ollir, Lecc's murderer. Ollir’s eyes were tight, and they darted between the doorway and the cops in front of him.
“What’s this, then?” he asked belligerently. “Trying to conduct a simple business matter with no interference and someone blows up my door.”
“Let the earl go, Ollir,” the captain said. He glanced around himself. “There’s clearly nowhere to run.”
“Maston,” Ollir said, his words a sneer. “This is bad for you, isn’t it? You don’t have a single thing on me. You blew your way into my station, you blew up my door, harassed my employees… Won’t look good on your next performance review, I’ll wager.”
Nodding his head at Ollir’s accusations, Maston said, “That’s true. But I’m sure my superiors will look more favorably on me when I turn over the audio of you confessing to the murder of Lecc Oican. I’m told it’s a rather vulgar display, besides being damning.”
“Hah, now you’re reaching. We swept them for bugs when we put them in holding,” Ollir said.
“Which was when they weren’t transmitting. Now that the receiver is in range, I’m told that they’re transmitting beautifully. Shall we listen?”
He held out his fob, and Ollir’s voice said, “I shot him in clear self-defense.”
Ollir’s eyes narrowed. “I said right there it was self-defense.”
“And I’m sure a judge will see it that way,” Maston said with a smirk. “I know men often pay pirates to dispose of bodies when it’s a clear matter of self-defense.”
At the words, Zev couldn’t help but glance around, but he wasn’t surprised to see that Dintro had fled, likely taking his leave in the chaos of entering the room.
Tiral’s eyes caught on Zev, and he glanced at the heavy glass sphere near Zev’s hand on a small table. He raised his eyebrows. Zev frowned and let his fingers brush the piece. It was likely supposed to be art, but it looked more like the sort of decoration that cost more money than it took to make the thing. Gauche as Zev’s mother would have said.
He nodded slightly.
Ollir was still sparring with Maston, and it looked like whatever their history was, he was enjoying needling the man. He raised his eyebrows and said, “Well, I have the earl and I have no plans to release him without assurances.”
“You know we won’t provide those,” Maston said. He gestured to his men. “We have the upper hand here. Release the earl and we don’t have to add endangering a peer to your list of charges.”
“Because that would add more time to my —” He huffed as Tiral elbowed him hard in the stomach.
Tiral dropped, his whole body lowering too quickly for Ollir to hold him up, and then Zev was throwing the glass sphere as if it were a turnball while everyone else gaped and followed its trajectory to Ollir's skull. Ollir’s eyes went wide and then rolled back in his head as Tiral scrambled away.
“Well,” Maston said primly. “Cuff him, lads.”
Zev was crossing the room in quick strides, and he pulled Tiral into his arms. He was shaking. “I thought —”
“Well, no harm done,” Tiral said, relaxing into his arms for a moment. But there was a slight tremble in his frame that gave away his own panic.
“There’s so much I have to tell you,” Zev said.
“Later,” Tiral assured him. “Let’s get out of here.”
23
The bed was luxurious.
Technically, they were being detained as they answered police questions about their dealings and subsequent kidnapping on The Last Resort, but as Ovi had promised their compliance, they were allowed to stay on the Laft ship with the police vessel merely attached. Maston was distracted by the career-making capture of Ollir. Zev’s ability to crack Ollir’s private line had proved a boon for him, giving the captain access to files that Zev could tell would get him a speedy promotion. While he was processing the scene, Ovi had whisked Zev and Tiral back to Zev’s ship.
Stretched out beside him, Tiral looked better than Zev had dreamed he would in his bed. The white sheets framed his warm brown skin, and he looked as though he were some deity in repose, waiting for supplicants to beg for his favor. His dark eyes blinked open and he smiled at Zev. With his hand, he reached out and brushed the back of his fingers over Zev’s cheek and then down his neck. The touch was electrifying.
“Are we late?” Tiral murmured.
“I think it’s rather early,” Zev teased. He brought a finger to Tiral’s hair, letting a curl loop around his fingertip before wrapping his palm around the back of Tiral’s neck and moving in for a gentle kiss.
He’d imagined this scene: Tiral naked and in his bed. The reality of it outdid the fantasy. Tiral’s smooth skin, his long limbs, all of it spread out for Zev’s enjoyment.
The night before, they’d been too tired to do more than collapse into bed after Ovi had secured their release. Now that they were rested, everything was tempting.
He kissed Tiral again because he could, because he had permission. Gently licking inside Tiral’s mouth, he enjoyed the slide of their tongues against each other before pulling back to ponder the other man.
“Composing a new lesson plan?” Tiral asked, amused.
“Planning my attack,” Zev corrected. “I thought I would have to forgo your attentions, so I am savoring being wrong.”
“'Attack,'” Tiral said, leaning back against the pillows, eyebrow raised. “Are we at war, then? Is the Laft Group planning a hostile takeover?”
“Oh, yes,” Zev said. He leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss to Tiral’s neck. The other man made a soft sound of pleasure and Zev mouthed at his neck again. He moved down to Tiral’s shoulder, his lips finding the rise of Tiral’s collarbone.
“I find myself amenable to a corporate acquisition,” Tiral said and shuddered as Zev mouthed down his ch
est.
Zev found one nipple and sucked on it until Tiral was panting, his hands fisting in the sheets. When Tiral glanced down, his eyes were wide and he bit down on his lip. Zev blew gently on Tiral’s nipple, and watched the resulting shiver with pleasure.
Zev wanted more. Switching to the other nipple, he put one palm flat on Tiral’s stomach, the edge of his pinky finger tracing the hem of his shorts. He could feel rough hair under his fingers, and with his mouth on Tiral’s chest, he could enjoy every gasp.
Watching Tiral come undone was a revelation. The idea that someone else could have seen this, seen him shuddering and lost in pleasure made Zev’s heart clench. He wanted this for himself, and only himself. No one else should get this sight.
He slid his palm under the waist of Tiral’s shorts, and gripped his cock. He was already hard and his flesh jumped at Zev’s touch, trapped by the tight fit of his shorts and Zev’s hand grasping him.
“I want to be inside you,” Zev said, looking up at where Tiral’s head was thrown back, neck a long line.
“Yes,” Tiral said urgently. “I want that. Now.”
The word was a whine that prompted Zev to reach for the bedside table as Tiral shoved down his shorts. He found the bottle that he knew would be inside and turned back, to see Tiral fully exposed, sheets shoved aside. He was beautiful, and Zev was reminded again of a deity awaiting worship.
“Do you want me to turn over?” Tiral asked.
“No,” Zev said hastily. “Just like that.”
He uncapped the bottle and squirted some gel onto his fingers. Leaning back, he used his free hand to pull one of Tiral’s legs over his shoulder. Tiral pushed himself up onto his elbows and Zev met him halfway with a kiss that was messy and wanton.
Still kissing him, with Tiral nearly bent in half, Zev pressed one finger into him. The sound Tiral made was half-moan, half-sigh.