by C. B. Lewis
Janos shrugged. He opened his hands, showing the false left one. “There are worse places to be.” He met Kit’s eyes. “It is small part of big story. Later, one of our people went bad. He tried to change things and broke rules. Dieter went back to stop him.”
“Dieter? As in Dieter-the-linguist?”
Janos inclined his head. “He is not official agent. He was not meant to do this, but we had no time to train new person. Dieter did it, but it was bad for him.” He sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “Now someone has used a gate. We think they have Sanders. It is not us. It is not now, but we do not know who it is or when they come from.”
Pieces were fitting into place.
“That’s why Dieter looked so bad when Mariam said what happened?” Kit guessed. “He remembered what happened last time?”
Janos nodded. “He cannot stay here now. It brings back bad memories and nightmares. Mariam asked me to tell you this.” Green eyes met his. “She say it is important for you to know why we keep secrets. It is my life and my secret, so I must be one to tell.”
Kit looked down at his hands in his lap, then back up at Janos. “You were really born in 1911?”
“I look good for someone old,” Janos said, and there was a hint of amusement in his eyes, but it was gone in an instant. “I was a soldier in Second World War. Now, I am modern man. I live here. I have life and home.”
“And boyfriend.”
“Yes.” Janos leaned forward, propping his forearms on his knees. “This was not told to you before because it is a dangerous secret: to know that people will try to change things. It happened before, and now, it happens again.”
“Someone else has found out about time travel and doesn’t care about the rules?”
Janos nodded. “This is how it looks. Maybe it is someone who goes from here, or maybe they come from somewhere else. Mariam says when the police are finished, we will be able to go to Sanders’s home and find out more, but we must wait.”
“Why not use the gate to go back to that day?”
Janos shook his head. “You know the rules for crossing your own timeline. You cannot be in a world where you already breathe. Anyway, we only open gate to places where we know what has happened. It is a big danger to go somewhere without knowing. People can be hurt.”
Kit looked back down at his hands, pressing his knuckles together. “Thank you. For telling me, I mean. I’m sorry I had to push you into it.”
Janos smiled, which softened his serious face. “You must know the secrets you are protecting. It is fair.” He pushed himself up from the chair, then held out his right hand. “Thank you, for protecting our secrets.”
Kit rose and clasped Janos’s hand. “If I can help or anything with Dieter, you let me know.”
Janos squeezed his hand briefly. “He will be well. Memories are strong, but he is stronger.”
“You’ve been with him all this time?”
Janos was silent for a long moment, but he nodded. “I have lost much, coming to this time, but it is all worth it for what I have here. I am happy.”
No wonder, Kit thought as Janos left the room, that they’d kept it a secret.
The rules of the TRI had been drilled into him. No interference. No changing things. No bringing anything back.
It all seemed like overkill at the time, but if the recent history of the agency involved a refugee from the past breaching their defenses and making himself a home, no wonder they were wary about letting everyone know.
Janos was technically over one hundred and thirty years old.
It was a mind-blowing concept.
He heard the door open again and turned around to see Mariam.
She made her way around the desk and sat down. “You see why I had to ask the relevant people.”
“Yeah.” Kit shook his head. “I… it seems impossible.”
“So does our job,” she replied with a tired smile. “Now, about Sanders’s board. I know you were wary about sharing it, but I need to know.”
She opened up the image on her slate and offered it over to him. He didn’t ask how she’d got it. Probably from the projector’s memory in the conference room. It was all there, clear and sharp.
He knew the key to Sanders’s code. With so many of his ideas going straight to Sanders and being bounced back, the key had been passed between them too. He had logged it so many times, it was ingrained in his memory.
He picked up the stylus for the slate and started decoding as he read.
He didn’t know how long he was sitting there, but his neck was stiff and aching by the time he looked up.
Mariam was watching him.
“It’s unfinished,” he said and slid the slate across the desk to her.
She picked up the slate, and her brow furrowed in disbelief. “This… is this correct?”
Kit rubbed at his eyes with his fingers. “It’s a working theory.”
Mariam looked back down. “He found a way to jump forward in time?”
“He found a possibility.” He got up stiffly from the seat. “He already managed to make it possible to teleport to the past. Why not the future too? Maybe that’s why no one can find him.”
Mariam looked up at him. “You think it could work?”
“I just talked to a man born in 1911 who came through a gate invented by the man who wrote that new theory,” Kit said. His thoughts felt fuzzy around the edges. Even forming words was tricky. “Sanders’s science has been right before. It could be again.”
Mariam looked back down at the slate. “Yes, it could.”
Kit’s mouth was dry and his head was aching. Decoding was exhausting anyway, and on top of all of the information that had been thrown at him, and working on the gate for almost four hours already, he was shattered.
With only a couple of hours before he was meant to meet DI Ofori, he knew he was going to be about as stimulating as sponge pudding if he didn’t get a break.
“D’you mind if I finish early today?” He rubbed at his eyes again. A bit overdramatic, but it caught her attention. “I think I used up the last of my brain on that.”
She looked at him with concern. “Are you all right?”
“Too much excitement,” he lied. “I’m just tired.”
She nodded. “I’ll let your team know. You go and get some rest.”
Kit collected his coat and satchel. Instead of taking the tram, he requested a taxi-pod outside the building. His mind was whirling. Time travel and rule breaking, jumping forward and using illicit technology that no one else knew about. It was all so much bigger than he’d expected.
He leaned back in the seat of the cab, closing his eyes.
Suddenly, his own little drama seemed insignificant.
So what if he was going for drinks with DI Ofori? At least he hadn’t let someone from the early twentieth century commit a technically unauthorized time jump to the present and settle down with one of his colleagues. He also hadn’t built some new gate and potentially punted himself into the future. Okay, there were things he had done with homemade gate-bits that he probably shouldn’t have, but no one knew about that, so it was safe for now.
If anyone tried to criticize him, he knew he had more than enough ammunition to shut them all up.
He smiled wearily at the pod’s roof.
Now, at least, he could look forward to a night out.
Chapter 11
THE BAR was quiet.
Not that it was usually a social hub, but tonight, there were only a couple of the old regulars nursing their brews at tables in the corners. Jacob was the only one propping up the bar, a drink already held between his hands.
He’d taken a seat at the far side of the bar for some privacy, but he couldn’t help thinking the setting was a mistake. It was too intimate, much more intimate than a social bistro or a restaurant where people were always coming and going. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been to the pub before and had any reason to expect heaving crowds. No. He’d picked it because
he was a bloody idiot.
“Need a refill?” One of the interchangeable bar staff approached, polishing a glass.
“Not now, thanks.”
Jacob took out his quill, checking for both the time and a potential message of cancellation from Rafferty. He could cancel himself, but if he wanted to do that, he would have done it the day Luke left.
It was almost seven on the dot, and there was no message.
He flicked the screen off and shoved the quill into his breast pocket, then let his head fall forward with a sigh.
“Aren’t you Mr. Enthusiastic.”
Jacob sat up sharply at Rafferty’s voice. He hadn’t even noticed the door opening, and he turned on the stool. Whatever he’d planned to say stuttered to a halt, and he ran his eyes over the other man from head to toe.
Rafferty’s shaggy mop of hair had been tamed. It shone like copper, pushed back from his freckled face. Dressed in a pale blue shirt that made his eyes gleam like chips of ice, he didn’t look like the rumpled, sleep-deprived engineer Jacob had run into in the elevator.
He was too tall, too gangly, not at all Jacob’s usual type, but when his face split into the grin that could light up the room, Jacob found he didn’t care.
Goddammit.
“You found a comb, then,” he said, as casually as he could.
Rafferty laughed, dropping down onto the stool beside him. “A rare event,” he agreed. “I’d say it’s a good night to buy a lottery ticket. All kinds of strange miracles are happening.” He waved over the bartender and ordered a Bacardi. “So. Here we are.”
Jacob looked down at his own drink. It was all for the sake of the case. That’s what he had to tell himself. “I’m surprised you came,” he admitted.
Rafferty grinned at him. “Likewise. You have to admit my opening line wasn’t exactly smooth.”
Jacob’s lips twitched. “It had a certain subtlety.”
“Oh yeah. So subtle.” Rafferty shook his head. “The only way it could have been more subtle was if I stripped off and painted a welcome sign on my bum.”
Jacob’s glass was halfway to his mouth. He paused, lowering it. “Thank you so much for that image.”
Rafferty was blushing again, but he was still smiling. “Trial by fire and mental image,” he said. “If I don’t scare you off in the first ten minutes, I consider this a success.”
Jacob looked at him in amusement. “You try to scare men off?”
Rafferty shrugged, turning on his stool to lean back against the bar. “I like interesting people,” he said. “People who don’t get flustered and awkward when I make a complete arse of myself. Which I do. A lot. Faulty brain-to-mouth connection.” His eyes danced. “You may have noticed.”
“Once or twice,” Jacob agreed.
“And yet, here you are.” Rafferty twisted around to take his drink from the bartender, and settled back against the bar again. “Interesting and interested?” He tilted his glass toward Jacob. “I like that.”
Despite himself, Jacob smiled. “I’m not that interesting.”
“Oh, come on,” Rafferty snorted. “You’re a detective. That practically screams interesting.”
Jacob turned his glass between his fingertips. “You’d be surprised how boring it can be. So much paperwork.” He could feel Rafferty’s eyes on him and glanced up from his drink. “Being an engineer must be a lot more interesting than that?”
Rafferty made a face. “It has its moments but with the fun risk of electrocution.” He gestured to his hair. “This is the grounded state.”
Jacob couldn’t help chuckling. “You’re an odd one, you know.”
Rafferty beamed at him. “You have no idea.” He turned on the stool to face Jacob and set his drink down. “What about you?”
“Me?” Jacob had to look away. “Nothing special.” The less personal information given, the better. They needed to be talking about the TRI. That was all. Rafferty didn’t need to know anything about him. “Just a grumpy old single copper.”
“Bullshit.”
Jacob almost dropped his glass when a broad, long-fingered hand squeezed his thigh. He looked down, then back at Rafferty, who was smiling in a decidedly interested way.
“It’s the truth,” Jacob said, only a little hoarsely.
“Partly.” Rafferty’s hand moved slightly, upward, and Jacob clenched his teeth and tried to stop himself from pressing into Rafferty’s touch. “Copper, yeah. Single, thank Christ. Old? Call it classic. Vintage.” His palm press-rubbed against Jacob’s inner thigh, and Jacob’s legs opened wider of their own accord. “Grumpy… well, I can work with that.”
Jacob reached down and caught Rafferty’s wrist. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
Rafferty was leaning closer. “Why not?”
There were a dozen reasons. More even.
“You didn’t finish your drink.”
Rafferty’s face was so close to his, he could count every individual freckle. “And?”
Jacob’s fingers could completely circle Rafferty’s wrist. All it would take was a twist of his hand and Rafferty wouldn’t be touching him. All he had to do was lean back, and he wouldn’t have those cool blue eyes and their copper lashes right in his face. All he had to do was have some bloody restraint.
One side of Rafferty’s mouth curled up, and the tip of his very pink tongue brushed his teeth. He raised his eyebrows in challenge, and God damn it all.
Jacob abandoned his glass and sank his other hand into Rafferty’s hair, pulling the other man’s mouth against his. He felt Rafferty’s laugh of delight against his lips, and the younger man leaned into him eagerly.
Christ, he was being an idiot, but Rafferty’s mouth was hot and his teeth caught Jacob’s lower lip, tugging demandingly. He’d shaken off Jacob’s restraining hand and pressed his palm flush against the front of Jacob’s trousers, squeezing.
Jacob pulled back, panting. “Wait… wait….”
Rafferty tossed his head, breathing hard. “What?”
“You don’t even know me.”
Rafferty’s eyebrows rose. “So? I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.”
Jacob stared at him. “I thought this was just a drink.”
Rafferty slid his hand back to a more modest position on Jacob’s thigh. “If that’s all you want, it can be.”
All he’d wanted was a lead to crack the case. All he’d wanted was to be able to find out what happened to Rafferty’s missing employer. All he’d wanted had gone out the window the minute Rafferty looked at him like he wanted to eat him alive.
Rafferty was still watching him with that same intensity, but there was concern now.
“Alternatively,” he said and squeezed Jacob’s thigh again, “get your coat, honeybuns. You’ve pulled.”
The tension shattered and Jacob burst out laughing.
Rafferty grinned at him.
“You’re an arse,” Jacob said.
“It’s been said,” Rafferty agreed. He lifted his hand away from Jacob’s thigh and retrieved his glass. The heated look had given way to a more genuine smile. “Offer’s still on the table, if you’re interested.”
Jacob looked down at the front of his trousers, then raised his eyebrows and looked back at Rafferty. “I don’t think that matter was ever in question.”
Rafferty widened his eyes in feigned relief and clutched his heart. “Good. I don’t think my fragile ego could take it otherwise.” He considered Jacob. “So, if you don’t want me for my body, I suppose I’ll have to actually engage my brain and make the words?”
“If that’s not too much of a trial for you,” Jacob agreed.
Rafferty gave a dramatic sigh. “I’ll soldier bravely on.” He took a drink, then darted his tongue along his lower lip to catch the excess.
Jacob watched the flick of that pink tongue over those now-swollen lips.
He raised a hand to catch the bartender’s attention.
He was going to need another drink.
&n
bsp; Chapter 12
KIT HAD a plan.
Part of it involved getting Jacob’s trousers off and having a gay old time of it. There were several stages in order to get to the trouserectomy. He’d managed to get a snog already, which was a good start, and Jacob was definitely interested, which was encouraging.
It was just a matter of taking his time.
So they talked and they drank, and the tension in Jacob’s shoulders gradually eased.
For all that Jacob said he was grumpy, he kept on letting those little smiles slip out.
By the time it hit nine o’clock, Kit was feeling pleasantly buzzed, and Jacob didn’t look like he would tense up again. Kit leaned closer and brushed one hand across the base of Jacob’s back. “Want to go?”
Jacob looked at him, and for a moment, that indecision was back.
Stupid indecision.
To help him make up his mind, Kit leaned that little bit closer and kissed him lightly. First on the lips, then the cheek, then the jaw, then the throat, and then up to his ear. He nibbled gently on Jacob’s earlobe and felt the other man’s breath gust on his skin.
“Not asking for more than a night,” he whispered. “C’mon. It’ll be fun.”
Jacob drew back, staring at him long and hard.
“Why?”
Kit spread his hand on Jacob’s back. “Same reason I came for a drink. Same reason I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you.” He shrugged. “Not many people catch my eye. You did.”
Jacob looked away from him for a moment, pressing his fist to the edge of the bar. “One night? That’s all you want out of this?”
Kit grinned. “First is free,” he said. “After that? Well, that’s up to you.” He hooked one finger through Jacob’s belt. “You’re good-looking. I’m moderately all right. I think we could have a good night.”
Jacob looked back at him, his eyes gleaming and dark. “Moderately all right?”
Kit slid off his stool. “Modesty is one of my best features.”
Jacob tapped his fingers on the bar, then rose too. They were practically the same height, and Jacob caught Kit by the waist, pulling him closer. “One night.”
