“Trust me, I haven’t forgotten.” Ryce turned and opened one of the drawers in the cupboard. He took out a box—a spacecraft first aid kit of the kind they kept in their ship’s shuttle. This one appeared newer; Ryce must have purchased it along with all the spare parts needed for the repairs on his jet. “I don’t treat the situation lightly. And as much as this goes against my better instincts, I have to make sure I have an advantage in a game that’s rigged from the start.”
Ryce snapped open the first aid kit. When he straightened, there was a syringe in his hand.
Matt took a step forward. “That’s a stim shot.”
“Yes.” Ryce leveled a look at him. There was a hint of defiance in his voice, as if he was challenging Matt to say something about it.
“Those can be dangerous,” Matt said, keeping his voice neutral, treading carefully.
“I need all the help I can get.”
“This stuff is addictive. You know that.”
“You’re hardly the person to lecture someone on addiction.”
Matt’s hands curled into fists so tightly the fingernails dug into the flesh of his palms. It took every ounce of whatever self-control he possessed not to snap back at Ryce through the red haze of anger that momentarily clouded his vision. But deep, deep down Matt knew Ryce had a point. He’d never done drugs, but he couldn’t deny he had a long-standing relationship with alcohol.
“Maybe it means I know what I’m talking about,” he said as evenly as he could.
Ryce tsked in annoyance. “I will hardly become addicted from one shot.”
It won’t be your first, though, Matt wanted to say. He remembered Ryce using stims on Colanta, when he was injured and hard-pressed for time while getting them through an asteroid field in a shuttle. Besides, medications were fine for when you needed them, but stimulants were potent drugs, only to be used in cases of emergency such as serious injury in dire situations. They were restricted for general distribution, approved only for use in medical kits on space- and aircraft, and terrestrial combat and heavy-duty transport.
But he kept the thought to himself.
“You do realize you don’t actually have to win this time, don’t you?” he asked carefully, in an attempt to steer the conversation back to what he was trying to convey before Ryce announced he had to resort to doping. “Whether we succeed or not, the results of the race would be irrelevant to us. They won’t pay you, just like they didn’t last time. You don’t have to do this—” He gestured toward the syringe. “Just let Stahl have his precious win and leave it at that. Unless it’s your professional pride taking over.”
Ryce had been a combat pilot, after all. Those folks’ egos were nurtured and cultivated from the moment they set foot inside the Fleet Academy. As a former space traffic controller in the Fleet, Matt was all too familiar with their “better-than-thou” attitude.
“It’s not about pride,” Ryce said sharply. “You don’t know what might happen on that ship. Even the best-laid plans are often rendered worthless by circumstances. What if you’re so outnumbered you decide not to go through with it? What if Val isn’t even on board? We’re basing this entire endeavor on the assumption he has to be there, but he might not. It is equally possible Griggs is keeping him somewhere on the station while he’s away on his yacht. And what will happen to Val if I return once again without a win? Do you want to get another part of him in a box? What will it be next time? A hand? A foot?”
“Look, you don’t have to try and scare me. I was sufficiently freaked out the first time.”
“Then let’s make sure it’s the last.”
Matt took a deep breath. It seemed like no matter what he said, it turned wrong. He was all out of tactics—which meant all he had left to fall back on was good old begging.
“Please, baby.” The endearment rolled off his tongue automatically, without thinking. Matt had never been big on using sweet nicknames, but somehow, now it felt natural and apropos instead of fawning or condescending, like it had when he’d tried it with other people. Maybe it was because this time the sentiment behind it was real. “Just promise me you’ll be careful. That’s all I’m asking. I can’t bear losing you.”
It was the simple, God-honest truth. It would have been different if Ryce had left on his own accord to pursue a better life—Matt would have found a way to deal with it because he wanted Ryce to succeed. But if he died…Matt knew he wouldn’t be able to live through that and emerge whole on the other side of grief.
For a long moment, Ryce gazed at him with that inscrutable expression of his Matt had learned to recognize as a veil drawn on conflicting emotions. Finally, he put the syringe back in its place and closed the kit.
“I promise I won’t use it unless I feel I absolutely have to. And I will be careful. As long as you promise to do the same. Because when I think of everything that might go wrong with you and Tony being all alone up there…”
Matt stepped closer and took Ryce’s hands in his. “We have every intention of coming back. All three of us.”
He knew perfectly well love wasn’t enough to keep someone safe from harm. There was no mystical force that somehow tilted the odds in your favor because you meant well. But it was so much easier taking on the universe when you knew someone would be there, waiting for you to come back into their arms.
It seemed like Ryce had a similar idea. His jaw worked, and he let go of Matt’s hand to gently run his fingers along his swollen cheek. The touch was soothing, feather-light, and Matt closed his eyes for a second, reveling in it, needing it all the more for the ache in his bruised bones.
“You still have a few hours before you have to get ready,” Ryce whispered. His eyes were dark, like a wintry sky with the promise of a storm. “Stay here until then. Make love to me.”
“Are you sure?” Matt’s voice was just as soft, his heart speeding at Ryce’s words. There was nothing he wanted more than to hold Ryce and be held by him, to share the heat of their bodies and the beating of their hearts in the hours that might yet prove to be their last. But as precious as it would be to him, such a level of trust and physical closeness meant even more to Ryce. And Matt didn’t want their first (and possibly only) lovemaking to be rushed out of desperation, especially if Ryce still wasn’t entirely ready.
“I’m sure,” Ryce said. He leaned in and touched his lips to Matt’s, effectively dispelling his misgivings. “I love you. I want you.”
“I love you too,” Matt whispered, barely audible to his own ears. The words burned on his tongue like a brand, exciting and terrifying at the same time. “But I’m hardly a picture of desirability right now. I want our first time to be special for you, and I look like shit.”
“I don’t care how you look.”
The kiss, when it came, was sweet, languid, and tinged with pain. When they finally parted, Matt was gasping for air—and not in a good way.
Damn it. Not being able to breathe through his nose put a damper on certain things he was planning on doing.
But the thought slipped from his mind as Ryce caressed his neck and unzipped the front of his fatigues in one fluid motion, exposing the crumpled white T-shirt underneath. Matt did the same, peeling off the layers of clothing from the other man. They paused to touch and admire each other’s bodies as they were revealed under the harsh fluorescent lighting, until they both stood there, gloriously naked.
Well, Ryce was certainly glorious. Matt had seen him in various stages of undress in the past, since they often slept together, kissing and cuddling, even if things never progressed further than that. But now it was as if he was seeing him for the first time—the long, elegant lines of his limbs, the reserved strength of his musculature, the expanse of flawless pale skin. He was perfection personified, as beautiful as the stars, cold and unattainable.
But the latter proved false as Ryce threw his hands around Matt’s neck and lavished small, heated kisses along the line of his jaw. Matt tilted his head back, allowing Ryce even more access. He w
as painfully hard, the promise of what was to come making all the blood in his body rush to his cheeks and cock. The fact that Ryce was also aroused, his smooth length rubbing against Matt’s, sent excited shivers down his spine. The realization that he could elicit this reaction, that Ryce really wanted him, was a heady feeling, a rush no drug in the universe could rival, and he allowed himself to bask in it, get drunk on it.
They backed up to the bunk bed and sank onto it without breaking contact. Matt ran his hands over Ryce’s chest and the taut pink nipples, drawing a soft moan and a shiver out of him, memorizing every sensation and sound. It still amazed him he could do this, that out of all the people in the known galaxy, Ryce had chosen him to share this intimacy with, that he cared enough for Matt to have this level of trust. And Matt wanted it all, everything Ryce was willing to give, and there was nothing, not a single scrap of his heart and soul he wouldn’t give in return.
While he could.
The thought came unbidden to his mind, and he banished it immediately. He would not ruin the moment by dwelling on the uncertainty of their future, not when the present was so generous to him.
“I want you so bad,” Matt whispered, his voice husky with need. “But I haven’t come prepared.”
Ryce’s heartbeat and breathing were fast and unsteady. Considering he’d never done this before, it must have been an even bigger moment for him, and Matt hated putting any breaks on it. But there was no way he could make do with spit and a prayer.
“It’s okay; there’s no rush. We’ll get there next time. Come here.” Ryce climbed on top of him, making sure Matt’s head rested on the pillow. Matt spread his legs in welcome, and now they fitted just right against each other, despite the narrowness of the bunk, their hands roaming over exposed skin, finding tender spots and sensitive places that made them sigh with pleasure.
His skin was on fire, every nerve tingling, every sense overloaded. His breath came out in ragged gasps—half moans, half sobs.
“Breathe through your mouth,” Ryce whispered close to his ear. Heat radiated from his flushed skin, and a smile tugged at his lips, dark and swollen with kisses. For a second, Matt was afraid he was going to lose it right there, simply soaking in the sight. “Otherwise you’re liable to pass out, and that would leave us both somewhat frustrated.”
Matt snorted. “You bastard. Don’t stop.”
He bucked insistently underneath him to emphasize his words, and Ryce obliged. He wasn’t shy about taking control, and Matt was only too happy to submit. They rubbed against each other, their bodies perfectly aligned, the sweet friction between their cocks sending jolts of pleasure down Matt’s spine. It wasn’t what he’d imagined, yet so much more than that; the reality of touch infinitely more satisfying than any fantasy he’d ever indulged in. Every move, every stroke was a wave of sensation and feeling washing over him, threatening to drown him, each one cresting higher and higher, until the powerful tide swept him along, carrying him safely ashore.
Ryce joined him moments later with a soft moan that reverberated through Matt, and collapsed on top of him, right into the pool of sticky mess now smeared between their stomachs. Neither of them cared.
“I love you,” Ryce said, hiding his face in the crook of Matt’s neck.
“I love you too, so much,” Matt whispered hoarsely. His hand, when he lifted it to stroke Ryce’s sweat-matted hair, was weighted with lead. All he wanted was to stay like this forever, to dissolve into bliss that was so wholly unfamiliar, and yet so right.
Chapter Nineteen
THE MEDUSA WAS everything Matt had expected of a luxury yacht. In deep space, the looks of a ship didn’t matter, as was evidenced by the wide array of alien ship forms, ranging in shape from boxy to fancifully organic. The Medusa, however, was designed to please the human eye, its immaculate hull painted glossy silver and blue. It was slightly smaller than Lady Lisa, with most of its bulk reserved for spacious accommodations and recreational areas instead of cargo storage.
Matt and Tony huddled in a shadowy recess behind one of the other ships in the dock. They’d been watching the yacht for the past twenty minutes or so, and had picked up on no sign of activity either from within or around it. No one had entered the dock, either, but this time, Matt wasn’t taking any chances, so they were biding their time until he was sure it was safe to make a move.
“The crew is probably asleep, if they’re even on board,” Tony whispered beside him. “We should get going before the shift changes. The station patrol might get it in their heads to make a sweep of the dock at the wrong moment.”
Matt nodded in agreement. Everything seemed quiet, and the time was as ripe as it was ever going to be. He took a deep breath, steadying himself before the irrevocable plunge.
“Ready? Here we go.”
He took out his commlink, pulling up the temporary camera controls Ryce had installed on it. Tapping into the feed interrupted the recording, creating the impression of a momentary distortion.
“Come on,” he whispered to Tony, and they pounded toward the dormant yacht. Ryce had timed the camera outage for three minutes—short enough to prevent the maintenance crew from coming to check up on them in the middle of the night yet giving Matt and Tony sufficient time to get on board.
The Medusa’s entry panel was lit, as if in welcome, but the ship was on lockdown. Tony punched in the key code they’d pilfered from Dan the tech guy. Matt only hoped it hadn’t been changed in the interim, because if so, they were about to be royally screwed. The cameras’ “malfunction” had probably already drawn the attention of the night security guards, and if they were caught trying to gain unauthorized access to a private vessel—
The entry panel status changed to “Open,” and the main hatch doors slid apart, revealing a dim airlock chamber. They hurried inside, and Matt shut the hatch.
Tony drew her gun, but both the airlock and the main corridor leading to the common areas were empty. Matt nodded toward the corridor, and they started that way as silently as they could. It was so quiet Matt was sure their footsteps echoed in the empty space along with their heartbeats, but nobody came to check on the noise.
They needed to stay away from the areas that posed a high risk of being occupied even at the dead of night—the dining room, the huge rec room, and the wet bar. There was no telling who’d be up for a late drink and a movie, even though they were counting on Griggs not being on board. But there was one stop Matt had to make before they were in the clear—relatively speaking.
The deck plan didn’t exactly follow the blueprints they’d pulled—some of the spaces were divided differently on what must have been a custom order. But the bones of the ship stayed the same, so they had no trouble following the path to a utility service compartment next to the galley. The open shelves held extra towels, bed linen, cleaning supplies, and, more importantly, spare staff uniforms. Matt and Tony each grabbed a set, which consisted of navy-blue pants and a jacket shirt before hurrying to the stairs that led to the lower deck.
The blueprints didn’t disappoint. They quickly found their destination—another utility closet directly adjacent to the engine room. As far as hiding places went, it wasn’t a comfortable one. The compartment was small and cramped, filled with spare parts and fluid containers.
“It stinks in here.” Tony wrinkled her nose at the pungent smell of the stored coolant.
For once, Matt was grateful for his nose being temporarily out of commission. They changed into the staff uniforms, giving each other as much privacy as the tight space allowed, and stashed their own clothes behind some crates at the far wall. The uniform wouldn’t fool the crew if they saw their faces, but they were counting on it making them less conspicuous at a casual glance.
Matt checked his watch.
“Only five more hours to go. Any ideas as to how to kill time?”
Tony scoffed. “Of all the people to be stuck in a closet with. We only just got here, and you’re whining already. Val is gonna owe me one hell of a fa
vor for this.”
“I’m not whining,” Matt protested. He glanced around, but there was nothing sturdy enough to perch on, so he sat on the stained floor, cross-legged. “I just like to spend my free time productively.”
“Now you sound exactly like Ryce.”
Matt fidgeted. He was trying to take his mind off the upcoming race—so far unsuccessfully. He wasn’t sure if he trusted Ryce to take it easy, despite his promises, and he definitely didn’t trust Stahl—and other racers—to do the same.
“Some things rub off on me,” he muttered.
“Yes, I bet they do,” Tony said in a lighter but meaningful tone and lowered herself on the floor beside him. “Is that why you had a silly grin plastered all over your face before we left?”
“It was not silly.” Matt had been defending himself way too much in the past few minutes for his liking. “It was a very dignified grin.”
“And about time, too.” Tony gave him a light, friendly punch on the shoulder.
Matt grunted, an uncharacteristic blush creeping up his cheeks. He was also grateful to her for not pestering him for details. But even if Tony was not aware of the particulars of Matt and Ryce’s relationship, she certainly understood how important and special it was to both of them—and she knew better than to pry.
THE NEXT FEW hours passed in relative silence since they didn’t want to risk being overheard. Both of them fiddled with their commlinks and dozed off in turns, but as morning drew near, Matt became more and more agitated. He pictured Ryce getting on that transport, preparing to take the aerojet down to the planet. All alone, gearing up for a fight no less intense than one of the skirmishes he’d waded through as a Fleet Falcon pilot. And if Matt and Tony failed, he’d be trapped, with no place to run.
Matt could lie to himself with the best of them, but even he couldn’t deny the most likely outcome was all of them ending up dead before the day was out.
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