by L. V. Lloyd
Nothing. Callan smacked his hands together sharply in front of his face for a second time. He still couldn’t hear anything. He leant back against the wall and watched the door, waiting for the first hint of movement. It was the only warning he was going to get until his hearing returned.
He had paced his cell for the last hour, checking everything until he was as familiar with it as his own room, more so perhaps. Four white walls, a door, a bed. A thin plasfoam screen gave the toilet and sink in the adjoining alcove an illusion of privacy.
There was no outlet other than the door and an air vent the size of his fist, up high in the wall above the toilet, near the ceiling. The screen was melded to the floor, the bed in one piece with no convenient bits to be broken off and used as a weapon if he needed to. He smiled sourly to himself, he could always throw the pillow at the first intruder. Perhaps it would provide a second’s distraction until he could determine if they were friend or foe! Still, that gave him an idea and he studied the bedding more closely.
He had only just finished when the door opened cautiously. The intruder paused for a second to gaze at the bed, but the hand holding the stunner didn’t waver.
Without hesitating, Callan grabbed the man’s arm from his position flat against the wall and pulled him into the room, chopping the back of his neck with his right hand. Not pausing to look down at the man on the floor, Callan sprung for the opening, only to come up short against a second man. Except this one was holding his arms up in a gesture of surrender.
“Whoa! It’s me, Callan.”
Even though he couldn’t hear the words, Callan could see immediately that it was Mike Oliver, out of uniform for once. The black tee shirt he was wearing stretched over his chest, highlighting the light brown skin of his strong arms.
He was too old to swoon over a hot man coming to his rescue—after all, he felt he had done most of the rescue work himself—but... he couldn’t help it. In one quick move, he crushed Mike to him and kissed him full on the mouth, before letting go a second later. That had been tantalisingly brief, he would give Mike a proper thank you later when they had more time. He looked down at the man he had hit. It was Tate. He turned back to Mike, a touch of suspicion entering his eyes for the first time.
Mike looked a trifle flushed but met his eyes steadily. “We need to get out of here now.” He spoke as slowly and clearly as he could. Evidently Tate had told him Callan was temporarily deaf. Mike continued, “I’ll explain later, when we are safe. Can you help me with Tate?”
Nodding in reply, Callan grabbed his boots from the end of the bed where he had placed them to give the rolled blankets some semblance of a person. The trick was an old one but it had worked well enough as a momentary distraction. Of course though, Tate hadn’t entered the room intending to kill him. Another man with a different agenda might have come in firing.
With Tate carried between them, an arm over each shoulder, Callan followed Mike’s lead out through the warren of passages up into the warehouse above.
By the time they reached the street, Tate was starting to come round, groaning and rubbing the back of his neck, but Mike wouldn’t let them stop until they were several blocks away from the warehouse. He let Tate go, watching him lean heavily against a nearby wall, and made sure Callan was looking at him before speaking slowly.
“You and I should go straight to the Police station. I want you safe. I’ll tell them I had a tip, which is the truth, more or less.” While he was speaking, he noticed Tate pull himself together and slip silently away. He didn’t stop him, the less people he had to take to the station the better as far as he was concerned.
“All right,” agreed Callan. “Thank you, for finding me,” he added, looking into Mike’s eyes. He could hardly wait until they were alone together, he really wanted to thank him properly, whether Mike wanted him to or not.
Well it wasn’t going to happen out here in the street, the sooner they got to the station and he made his statement the better. And he really needed to call Dane, tell him he was okay, he must be beside himself with worry by now. He scarcely noticed that Tate was no longer with them.
Chapter Twenty Three
Captain Spier was trying hard to feel pleased that Callan Rian had been found alive and well, but she would have been far happier if her own team had tracked him down and conducted the rescue. She felt she could have flown a spaceship through the holes in Lieutenant Oliver’s story. She had sent a couple of officers immediately around to the warehouse Oliver described and their report confirmed that the Governor had been held prisoner there, but still... The only evidence they had found connecting Mo Khan to the whole affair was the rather tenuous fact that he was a part owner of the building. Hardly conclusive!
The Governor was pleading ignorance, claiming he could remember nothing from the time he was in the hotel to the moment Oliver broke into the room where he was being held prisoner and rescued him. Spier didn’t believe him but so far she had been unable to get him to change his story. She took his statement about the bombing but it didn’t add anything to the information she had already received from the other witnesses.
His business partner, Trenwith, was bouncing around the reception room driving everyone up the wall with his constant questions about when he could see Rian.
Eventually, she let the Governor go, with the proviso that he wasn’t allowed to leave Kapunda without her permission.
Dane flung himself into Callan’s arms as soon as he saw him for a rib-cracking hug, then held him at arm’s length, looking him up and down anxiously to reassure himself that he was in one piece.
“I thought we’d book in to the Galaxy for tonight,” he told him. “We certainly don’t want to go back to the Victory!”
“Fine,” agreed Callan. To his relief, his hearing was slowly coming back but his head ached and he felt tired and hungry. What he really needed was a hot shower, dinner and a good night’s sleep.
Lieutenant Oliver watched the reunion with interest from the sidelines. It was obvious to him that Dane felt more than friendship for the other man, but he wasn’t certain the feeling was returned. Judging by the warm embrace Callan had given him earlier, he was pretty sure he was the one Callan fancied.
Frankly, he had never seriously considered Callan as a potential lover. Apart from the significant problems caused by his position as Governor, he wasn’t his usual type. Mike had always fancied younger, more delicate men. More like Dane, only less sassy because he liked to be the one in control. But that embrace, when he had felt the hard muscles of Callan’s thighs pressing against his legs, his strong arms crushing the breath out of him, had made him feel... rather breathless, to be honest.
“I’ll go with you,” he told them, quick to volunteer his services. “Until we have the perpetrators in custody, it’s best if you have an escort. Besides, I need to find somewhere to stay too.”
“Thanks,” said Callan, offering a faint smile. “I’d appreciate that.”
Dane was silent, his eyes going from one man to the other.
The Galaxy Hotel was only a few blocks away, but Dane used Callan’s tiredness as an excuse to put an arm around him. Mike wondered what would happen if he put an arm around Dane, smiling at the image this conjured up of the three of them, but he kept his hands to himself and his eyes kept a careful watch for any threat. They arrived safely at the hotel, only to be told by the Receptionist that there was only one single room available.
“I’m very sorry, sirs,” he apologised.
“Are you sure?” asked Dane. “Nothing else?”
“Well,” the man looked at the screen in front of him, “We do have a small suite, it has a king bed.” He brightened, “But we could easily put up a single in there if two of you were willing to share?”
“We’ll take it,” Dane answered immediately. “And the single as well,” he added with a quick glance at Mike. He turned round and smiled at the other two men as the Receptionist made the booking.
“As we don�
�t have any luggage to take up, can I suggest we go straight to the bar for a drink and a meal? Then we can discuss the sleeping arrangements.” The provocative smile was pure Dane.
Mike kept quiet. He could see that Dane was expecting him to choose the single room, but maybe he wouldn’t, maybe this time he’d surprise all of them.
Before he could say anything, a sixth sense made him turn around. Someone was coming up behind him. Tate.
He was walking cautiously, checking out the surroundings, but he wasn’t trying to hide. He came right up to Mike. “The boss wants to see you. Now.”
What god-awful timing. “I’m busy. Tomorrow.”
“Now,” repeated Tate, firmly.
Mike shrugged, he was fighting a losing battle and he knew it. Might as well get this over with, now that the order had been given, he probably wouldn’t be able to relax again in any case.
His two companions stared at him, confused concern on their faces. Tate and Callan exchanged cold looks. “Need any help?” asked Callan.
“No, it’s all right. I’ll go. I’ll be back later.” Mike tried to smile. “Don’t make any decisions without me.” His smile broadened for an instant at Callan’s startled look, then he turned to leave with Tate.
The two men were silent as they made their way through the streets, Mike trying to prepare himself for the coming meeting, and Tate uncertain as to why his boss wanted to see the young officer in the first place. At least he wasn’t wearing his Patrol uniform, thank you gods. He still wasn’t clear on how he had managed to track down the safe house, but when Danilo had called him to come out and talk to someone asking questions about the Governor, he hadn’t hesitated. He knew his boss wasn’t particularly happy with his actions but he still thought he had made the right decision. He hadn’t felt he’d had any choice but to release the Governor into Oliver’s care, the last thing any of them wanted was the Patrol in their faces, stirring everything up and most likely making an almighty mess. It would have set Chang’s plan for respectability back by years.
Instead of the safe house, Tate led Mike to a dark and dingy bar, tucked away in the side streets. They went through the public room without speaking to anyone and upstairs to a small room in the back. Tate opened the door and waited until he went in.
The first thing Mike saw was a man sitting behind a table, swirling a glass of brandy around in front of him. He had black hair and brown eyes, nothing particularly noteworthy about his features apart from the censorious look in his eyes.
“So, you finally condescended to make an appearance! After eight years, you come back, just to interfere in my plans.” He looked Mike over critically. “Well don’t just stand there like a pillar of salt! What have you got to say for yourself?”
Evidently nothing had changed for the better, he wasn’t going to get a warm welcome here. Mike squared his shoulders,
“It’s nice to see you, too. Dad.”
It was midnight before Mike made it back to the Galaxy. The conversation with his father had been just as awkward and stilted as he had feared. He’d only actually stayed with him about thirty minutes, but he’d needed a long walk afterwards to try and clear his head. There was no point hurrying back to the hotel.
As soon as Mike left the building with Tate, he knew Dane would have claimed the suite for Callan and himself. They would have had a few drinks and enjoyed a good meal, and probably a few more drinks. Callan might have thought he wanted Mike, but he suspected he wouldn’t have held out long against Dane’s determined seduction. He tried not to imagine exactly what they were up to in the king bed.
Mike felt he’d gone past hunger. He’d just go up to his room and crash. Alone.
He had just stepped inside the room, when Dane called him on his wristcom. He hesitated, then answered, it had to be important at this time of night. Dane’s voice sounded unreasonably cheerful.
“Well, are you coming up? We’ve been waiting for you.”
Chapter Twenty Four
“He won’t come,” Dane said, speaking with his back to Callan. “He’s too straight, he won’t even consider it.”
Callan swallowed, he wasn’t entirely certain that he was ready to consider a threesome either. Naturally enough, it had been Dane’s idea. Dane had been acting oddly all evening, taking every opportunity to get close to him, touching him in a way that was rather more than friendly. When they’d come upstairs to the suite, he’d even tried to kiss him as soon as they shut the door behind them. He had laughed when Callan pushed him away a bit grumpily. Callan didn’t want to play games, he was too worried about what was happening to Mike. Who was the “boss” that Tate demanded he go and see? Had Mike got into some sort of trouble through helping him?
Dane had backed off cheerfully enough, saying, “Go and have your shower, Callan. It’ll make you feel much better. They’ve got some big fluffy robes here, you can put one on afterwards and I’ll give you a shoulder massage if you like.”
Callan had hesitated a moment but that really sounded like a good idea, certainly standing here worrying wasn’t helping anyone. He went into the bathroom and took off his AISS uniform, frowning over the dried blood stains. He would put it in the refresher unit when he came out, so it would be clean for tomorrow.
It was true, he did feel better standing under the hot water and the heat soothed some of his sore muscles. He hoped Mike was safe. He knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he heard from him. That reminded him, he needed a new wristcom. Gods only knew what had happened to his old one. When he came out, the fluffy white robe wrapped around him, he found Dane had turned the heat up in the bedroom, making it nice and cosy.
“I’m just going to have a quick shower myself,” Dane said, another robe draped over one arm. “I won’t be long. There’s some Aurigan whisky on the table if you’d like to pour us a couple of nightcaps.”
Dane was out in less than five minutes, still trying to decide whether or not he was going to make a heavy pass, or just continue playing the flirting game. It wasn’t like him to feel uncertain, usually he knew exactly what he wanted, or didn’t want, and went straight for it without second guessing himself. The fact that Callan wasn’t exactly begging him for it wasn’t the problem, he considered himself rather an expert at persuading people to do something they hadn’t thought they would ever agree to. No, the problem was that he loved Callan, as well as being hot for him at the moment. He didn’t want to sabotage their friendship, do something that Callan would bitterly resent when he came to his senses, something that would make him push Dane away forever.
Perhaps he should just give Callan the massage he had offered and take it from there. After all, once he had Callan face down on the bed, sitting across his thighs, the robe peeled down from his strong shoulders so his hands could get to work, who knew what might happen.
And here he was a quarter of an hour later, just as he had pictured, sitting astride Callan, his fingers kneading those tight muscles and he knew, despite his wishful thinking that he was the only one getting aroused here.
“So, you really fancy him, huh?” he asked in a low voice, trying to keep the tone light.
“Oh yes,” murmured Callan thickly.
Dane swallowed. “I don’t want to shower comets on your parade here, but you know he’s... ah... interested in me?” He tried to be as delicate as possible.
“I know,” admitted Callan. He paused. “And what about you? Can I ask, are you interested in him?”
“He’s pretty cute,” said Dane, striving for detachment. “If he offered, I probably wouldn’t say ‘no.’ ” He felt Callan twitch beneath him.
If Dane hadn’t felt like crying for some stupid reason he would have laughed. What a classic farce. He wanted Callan, who wanted Mike, who wanted him. A great storyline for a Holovid, anyone.
He held his breath when the brilliant idea popped into his mind. He contemplated it from all angles for a minute, before tossing it out for Callan to consider.
“Let’s invite
him up here. We’re all adults and... it’s a big bed.” He grinned. Sweet gods, if only!
Before Callan could really get his head around the idea, Dane was calling Mike on his wristcom.
“Stop!” Callan protested in a panic. What was Dane doing?
Dane stopped, his finger hovering over the ‘com. “It’s your call. Shall I ask him or not?”
“Just wait!” Callan didn’t know what he wanted. Mike would say “no” wouldn’t he? But what if he didn’t? He could feel himself getting excited just considering the possibility. No, it was a bad idea. He was too old for this sort of thing, how would they look each other in the face in the morning? But the thought of waking up all warm and naked with Mike on one side and Dane on the other had his pulse jumping like a wild thing. It was true, they were all consenting adults. Surely they could engage in some hot sex without regrets?
Maybe they could start slowly and if anyone wanted to stop they would agree there would be no hard feelings... He couldn’t believe he was actually considering the idea.
“Well?” asked Dane, waiting impatiently.
“Yes. No! Oh gods,” Callan pushed Dane off and stood up. He paced up and down. He was only thirty-five, he wasn’t dead, he could still say “yes” to some fun, couldn’t he? He knew full well it would only be a matter of sex. No-one’s heart would be involved, no-one would be making any sort of a commitment here. And this was the only way he was going to get Mike in his bed. Maybe. If Mike agreed. Which he wouldn’t, Callan was sure. He paced a bit more.
“All right. Do it. Ask him.”
Before Callan could change his mind again, Dane put through the call. Mike picked up. Dane smiled as he spoke, fending off Callan who was having second thoughts, again, with one arm. “Well, are you coming up? We’ve been waiting for you.”
