Yet Sebastian didn’t leave the bus. Perhaps he’d realized he was safer on board. Kyle didn’t blame him for running—trusting anyone with your life was reckless at best, fatal at worst. The problem was Sebastian didn’t stand a chance against his father’s men—or the Association’s other operatives.
The portly driver heaved himself down the stairs and stood in the shadow of the vehicle. In sharp contrast to the snow they’d suffered through at higher altitude the night before, the day was indeed growing very warm, the sun bright in a cloudless sky over the white peaks and green valleys.
Smiling, Kyle approached. When the driver gave him a quizzical glance, Kyle said, “Gonna wake my friend up. Can’t let him miss this amazing view!”
The driver spoke with a German accent. “Do you have the right coach?”
“Of course.” Kyle smiled again. “Glad to have you driving me around all these treacherous curves.”
The driver seemed to relax at the compliment. “But everyone is off the vehicle. Your friend must be hiding from you.” He chuckled.
“I bet he’s in the bathroom!” Kyle laughed as he climbed on board and scanned the bus. Holding his gun inside his coat, he started down the aisle, checking all the seats. Empty. The toilet door stood closed, the indicator reading FREI. Unoccupied.
Drawing his gun, Kyle reached out for the door handle. Then in one quick movement, he wrenched it open and propelled himself forward to take Sebastian off balance and get him under control.
Instead, he slammed into the far wall of the empty toilet. Had he guessed wrong? Was Sebastian still hiding in the town? After he’d realized Sebastian had been upstairs too long, he’d analyzed the possibilities. Sebastian couldn’t hot-wire a car. Likely would leave stealing one as a last resort.
He could hide elsewhere in the town, knowing his father’s men could still be there.
He could blend in and try to sneak away. A bus. Right away Kyle had known this would be Sebastian’s choice. It was instinct—just as it was when he’d realized he couldn’t put his gun to Sebastian’s head and pull the trigger. He’d learned long ago not to second-guess it.
Hiding his gun, Kyle strode back down the aisle and outside. Dispensing with the ruse, he cut off whatever the driver was about to say. “Did you pass another bus when you stopped this morning near Courmayeur? One ahead of you, or going the other way?”
The driver blinked, and the wariness returned. “Yes. A bus going to Courmayeur left just before we did.”
Damn it.
It must have left moments before Kyle made it to the main street. He slammed the door as he climbed back into the car. He needed to ditch it soon or risk the plates coming up as stolen. He needed to get out of the Alps and find the Chimera. And Sebastian, who was now likely well on his way to Switzerland.
He should concentrate on the Chimera. It was clearly the more important goal. Go back down to Como and find it. If Brambani’s men located Sebastian in the meantime, it would be out of his hands. Sebastian would be dead, and Kyle wouldn’t have to disobey another direct order. Things could go back to normal.
For a moment, as children giggled and shouted, their parents snapping photos of the alpine vista, the possibility that he could let Sebastian die hung in the air as it had earlier in the dank basement. It stretched out and filled Kyle’s field of vision, blurring the edges.
Sebastian was nothing to him. His usefulness was at an end. Even if Kyle couldn’t kill Sebastian himself, if the job was done for him…it should be a favorable outcome. He shouldn’t care.
This was not protocol.
Blinking, Kyle twisted the key in the ignition and turned onto the highway, roaring back up the mountain.
It was midafternoon when Sebastian reached Geneva. To keep Kyle guessing, he’d left the tourist coach at a rest stop and caught a regular bus that traveled through the Mont Blanc Tunnel into Switzerland. He’d had to lift some euros and a credit card from an older man on the coach who’d left his wallet sticking out of his fanny pack as he dozed. There had been at least five credit cards, and Sebastian hoped this one wouldn’t be missed and that the man wouldn’t have to pay any of the charges.
It had been a few years since Sebastian had visited Geneva, but he knew the shops on Rue du Rhone and Rue du Marche in the city center were far too expensive for his currently meager budget. Instead he hopped on a city bus to Rue des Paquis.
Along the shady street was an eclectic collection of vintage shops, antiques, and bookstores. Sebastian’s toes had gone numb from his pilfered sneakers, and he picked up a slightly worn pair of low-top black sneakers along with a baseball cap, T-shirt, and light jacket.
As the clerk ran the stolen credit card, Sebastian examined a counter display of lighters, his heart in his throat as he waited. A few moments later the bill was printed, and Sebastian exhaled as he scribbled an approximation of the man’s signature. Fortunately the young girl with green-streaked hair didn’t check the back of the card before returning it to him.
In a busy café beside a sex shop, Sebastian squeezed into a tiny bathroom and changed out of the too-big T-shirt he was wearing. He pulled the cap down low over his forehead. Examining himself in the mirror, he wondered if he should dye his hair. That’s what people in movies always did when they were on the run.
On the run.
He barked out a laugh, which echoed loudly off the tile. Changing his hair wouldn’t do a thing. Hell, changing his face wouldn’t help. If Kyle and the other men wanted to find him, they would. He hoped with a desperate flutter of his stomach that they’d lose interest in pursuing him.
Then what?
He went over his options again. He had a few euros and a stolen credit card to his name. No close friends. His classmates from high school were all sons of men who knew his father. He’d been friendly with a few of the boys growing up, but he had no confidence that they’d risk their own lives to help him. Why would they? Sebastian had always been quiet and a bit of a loner.
At Harvard, he’d come out of his shell, but then Peter… At the thought, he had to close his eyes and breathe deeply. First Peter, now Kyle. Shaking his head at his own foolishness, he left the bathroom and ordered a coffee at the counter.
He knew it was ridiculous to compare Peter and Kyle at all. At least Peter had cared a little. Peter had liked him, and how could Sebastian blame him for taking Arrigo’s money? Few people could resist such an offer. Even if he could talk to Peter or another classmate, what would he say? Besides, it would only put them in danger, and he couldn’t let anyone get hurt.
Sipping his coffee, Sebastian sat at a corner table. He stared at the jazz festival posters on the walls and kept his head down when anyone pushed open the door. A bell tinkled every time, and Sebastian watched from the corner of his eye to make sure there was no threat.
He played with a packet of sugar as he pondered his options. First he needed money. The stolen credit card would not be unreported for long. He didn’t have his wallet, so although he had thousands of euros in his account, he couldn’t access them. Besides, any transactions would undoubtedly be flagged.
Sebastian hated stealing, but he didn’t see any other options. He’d gotten lucky on the bus, snagging the sleeping man’s wallet on the way to the toilet and then slipping it back on his way when he returned. Glancing around the café, he looked for any wallets or purses sitting unprotected.
He stared at an open purse on the floor beside a chair a few tables over. Its owner, a young woman, was laughing and chatting with a friend. Perhaps he could bump into her chair and drop something, and in the commotion snatch her wallet…
Sebastian glanced up to find the woman’s companion watching him, her gaze narrowed. Before he could think, he was up and practically running from the café, guilt warming his cheeks as he hurried away. After a few turns on the clean streets, he spotted the train station. He found a bench outside and tried to think of a good place to go. It would probably be good to get some more miles under his be
lt.
He thought of Ben. In the past he would have called his brother and had him pick him up. He’d relied on Ben to fix everything. But no more. He rubbed his face. With hit men and God knows who chasing him, he had no one to rely on but himself. It was time to step up and show just what kind of man he could be. Was he the weakling his father had always believed?
No. He’d already escaped a professional spy. He steeled himself. There were depths of strength in him if he could access it. He wasn’t going to be anybody’s victim. Taking a deep breath, he decided the first step was to figure out where to hide.
A block away stood a shabby hotel, appearing enticingly anonymous. Leaving the train station behind, Sebastian shuffled down the street, hat pulled low. He needed to get off the street and come up with a plan.
Kyle stared out at the passing scenery as the train rumbled past a valley lush with flowers and greenery. A loud British couple sat across from him, exclaiming at every new vista. When the woman had introduced herself, Kyle answered in German with an apologetic smile, which had effectively curtailed any further discussion attempts.
Glancing at the screen of his smartphone—which was a good deal smarter than most civilian versions thanks to some tweaks from the Association’s technicians—Kyle frowned. Still nothing.
After ditching the car in Chamonix, he’d caught the train to Geneva. Kyle’s instincts told him Sebastian would try to lose himself in a city. Most people would, and Geneva was the logical place to go in the area. However, Kyle still hadn’t been able to receive confirmation, and he didn’t want to waste precious hours.
The train chugged along, and Kyle wished he’d stolen another car and driven himself, even though he knew the safest course of action was to take transit. Stealing cars was something he tried to avoid, since attracting the attention of local authorities was always to be prevented whenever possible.
Still, he hated not being behind the wheel. As they traveled through the mountainside, all he could do was wait. Wait for information, and wait to get to Geneva. If Sebastian wasn’t there, then he’d be back at square one. It was possible Sebastian had gone somewhere else in Italy, but Kyle doubted it. His instincts rarely failed him.
The British woman stood up to take a picture and stumbled slightly as the train rounded a curve. She stepped on Kyle’s duffel, which he kept between his feet, one hand gripping the handles. As she rattled out a string of apologies, Kyle smiled through gritted teeth, willing her to stop talking to him.
Dismissing his irritation, he stared out the window as the train passed a village carved into the mountainside. Damn it, Sebastian. He should be back in New York, following orders. Waiting for his next job—assuming he wasn’t being terminated himself. But he hated home for the same reason he hated waiting on this train: too much time to think.
Home. He mentally scoffed. New York wasn’t home to him any more than the countless cities he’d visited around the world. It was just the place he went to more often. He’d chosen a one-room studio apartment over a laundromat that had no nosy neighbors to wonder where he disappeared to. He had no friends there, and in New York it was easy to become another face in the crowd.
He didn’t have room in his life for friends. Yet here you are, chasing Sebastian across the Alps, and he’s more than just a friend. Kyle swore under his breath, garnering a curious look from the British couple. Ignoring them, he tried to clear his mind and stop thinking about all the things he shouldn’t. He’d simplified his life when he joined the Association, and he’d gotten dangerously off track on this mission thanks to Sebastian Brambani. He should have learned his lesson by now.
Without warning his father’s voice echoed through his mind: “That boy’s always been a bit slow.” Stomach clenching, he closed his eyes as images of the house on South Street flickered through his mind. The room he’d shared with his three brothers, with the faded cowboy wallpaper and battered bunk beds. His two older sisters in the kitchen peeling potatoes and arguing with their mother about going to school dances—a discussion they didn’t dare have with their father.
Archibald Grant—Archie to everyone but Kyle’s grandmother—ruled their little house with an iron fist, and they all struggled to live up to his expectations. Kyle had been the youngest, a chubby boy who wasn’t the natural athlete his brothers were. He’d been born two weeks late, and it was a lasting first impression as far as Archie was concerned. But Kyle had shot up in his teens and worked hard getting in shape to prove he wasn’t the slow, underachieving runt of the litter.
Kyle’s thoughts returned to the last time he’d seen his family or had a real home. The memory of that night was punctuated by his mother’s sobs, the blood streaming out of his nose as he—
“Excuse me?” The British woman touched Kyle’s arm tentatively, and he barely resisted the urge to pull out his gun.
He fixed her with a glare.
She leaned back in her seat, eyes wide. “Your phone.” She held it in her hand. “It slipped onto the floor.”
He grabbed it from her. “Danke,” he grunted.
The screen suddenly came to life, and he read the message eagerly, pushing memories of the past from his mind.
Geneva. 4:26 p.m. Train station perimeter.
A picture appeared, Sebastian’s face clear under the brim of a cap as he looked up. Relief soothed Kyle’s tense muscles, and he exhaled. At least he knew Sebastian was still alive, or had been not long ago. He just needed to find him before their opponents did. There were cameras everywhere now, and if you knew the right people with the right face recognition software, finding a target was child’s play.
Typing quickly, Kyle responded. Blue: I owe you. K.
“Blue” was the only name he knew this contact by, which was fine by Kyle. Over the years he’d obtained some helpful acquaintances—people unconnected to the Association. He’d learned that at times it was wise to have separate channels to gather intel.
He examined the picture again, and memories flickered through his mind: the taste of Sebastian’s lips, his hard, lean body pressed close as they moved together, the heat of his mouth as Kyle slipped inside…
Clearing his throat, Kyle sat up straighter and checked his watch. If he’d been able to ascertain Sebastian’s location, it was likely the others had as well. In all probability, Kyle was closer. As he glanced out the window, the glittering water of Lake Geneva came into view.
Leaving the annoying tourists behind as the train entered the city, he made his way to the front of the carriage, duffel in hand.
Sebastian’s eyes followed a faint crack in the ceiling that ran diagonally across the small, musty room. Checking in hadn’t been a problem, despite his lack of luggage. He’d stopped himself from launching into an explanation of being robbed, choosing instead to say as little as possible. The clerk had seemed utterly uninterested as long as the credit card cleared.
He shifted on the lumpy mattress. He still wore his clothes and shoes in case he needed to make a quick escape, and he told himself sternly to go to sleep for a couple of hours. Although he was utterly exhausted, his mind stubbornly whirled whether his eyes were opened or closed. He hadn’t slept in days aside from the few stolen hours in Kyle’s arms in the shack, yet he couldn’t relax enough to drift under.
Kyle.
He was too smart to trust a spy, yet he had. A killer. But when Kyle had touched him, Sebastian had felt an undeniable connection between them. All lies. Get as far away from him as you can. Turning onto his side, Sebastian resolutely closed his eyes. He’d gotten a train schedule from the front-desk clerk and had decided on the latest departure going to Paris. In the meantime he could recharge.
After another five minutes, he flopped onto his back. Just go to sleep! But his stomach churned, and then a noise in the hallway had him holding his breath. He crept to the door, peeking through the peephole. An old man shuffled by, shoulders stooped. Exhaling, Sebastian wondered when he’d ever be able to truly relax again.
Kic
king off his shoes, he shimmied out of his clothing, hoping it would make him more apt to drop off. He padded to the bathroom and washed his face, wishing he had thought to buy a toothbrush and paste. The curtains were drawn, with only small cracks of light finding their way in.
He’d been through so much and had slept so little that he should have been out like a light, but his brain remained stubbornly engaged. There was one thing that usually never failed to put him under, so he took his cock in hand, squeezing lightly as he began the familiar strokes.
Yet when he closed his eyes, it wasn’t Peter’s face he saw or Peter’s slight hands he remembered caressing him. In his mind, Kyle loomed over him, all coiled tension and power, his hands rough and strong as they claimed him.
Giving in, Sebastian spread his legs, planting his feet on the bed with knees bent. After wetting his finger, he reached down underneath himself and pushed inside the tight ring of muscle around his hole. He thought about the length and thickness of Kyle’s cock and how it had felt in his mouth, and imagined it thrusting inside him, opening him up.
With a twist of his wrist, he worked a second finger inside, fucking himself as he jerked his cock with his other hand. Sebastian heard Kyle’s voice saying his name in his ear, felt his warm breath on his neck. His own moan was loud in the stillness of the room, and it spurred him on and he moaned again, panting as he brought himself racing to the edge.
Increasing the pressure on his dick, he stroked faster as his balls tightened, tingling with simmering pleasure that licked out to the end of his cock and deep inside his hole where he rubbed his fingers against his prostate.
Shaking, he erupted, spraying his stomach in thick spurts as his body was awash in pure bliss. He emptied, squeezing onto his fingers as he twitched. Then the pleasure receded, and he splayed out, limbs spread, his sticky chest heaving. He closed his eyes and finally fell into a fitful doze.
The Chimera Affair: Gay Romance Page 8
