by Clancy Nacht
Guy was at the door, similarly packed. They said nothing to one another as they headed to the elevators and checked out. It wasn’t until they were outside and catching a cab that Lance realized he hadn’t discussed with Guy how to get to Austin.
“Airport,” Lance told the driver. He nodded at Guy, who responded with a shrug. They put the bags in the trunk and sat together in the back seat.
Lance set his hand on Guy’s, not entirely sure how he’d respond, but Lance needed some comfort. His poor judgement got Zed killed. “Guess if we get plane tickets, I’ll find out your real name.”
Guy turned his head and raised brow. “And soon, I’ll know what you’re running from.”
Lance frowned and stared down at their hands. “Guess you will.”
“My name is Gideon. This is more than I tell most people.”
They both eyed the driver, but the man didn’t seem to care.
Lance unlocked his phone and opened an app to book a pair of tickets. “Gideon what?”
“I’ll get my own.” Gideon opened his phone and made his own reservations. They coordinated flights and then fell into an uncomfortable silence.
Lance looked out the window at the passing scenery. Gideon squeezed Lance’s hand. “Was it someone close to you?”
“An employee.” Lance gazed at Gideon. The guilt and shock had left him numb. This wasn’t a great emotional state to be in when Lance was about to deal with That Man. He needed to be firing on all cylinders.
“Will the body require staging?”
Lance sighed. Zed was married to his job. There were merits to allowing Zed’s family closure, but a body would leave nagging questions. Who knew how That Man had left the corpse? It could implicate Lance in so many ways. “Disappear him.”
Gideon squeezed Lance’s hand. “All right.”
Standing in the security line at the airport, going through it, and being seated, they said nothing. They didn’t sit together, which suited Lance just fine. He wasn’t sure what to say to Gideon.
They didn’t speak again until they were leaving Austin Bergstrom International, where they called a service to take them to Lance’s condo. There they dropped off their stuff and then took Lance’s car to his office.
Gideon cleared his throat. “Who wants to talk to you so badly that a man had to die over it?”
“It’s better if you don’t know. Once you know his name, you can’t unknow it.” After Lance pulled into the parking spot at his office, he sat there, staring at the building. Just knowing Zed was inside, dead, made Lance ill. What was he walking into? He didn’t know the state of the body or if they’d be alone or not, so Lance dug out a couple of guns from a secret compartment in his car and handed one to Gideon.
Gideon politely refused. “Have my own. You’re worried it’ll come to that?”
“I don’t know. I have no idea what this is about.”
“All you know is that Magnus Schrader wants to talk to you.” Gideon eyed Lance impassively.
Clenching his jaw, Lance nodded once. That Gideon knew his name—said it so easily and casually—made Lance’s heart sink. Maybe this was the long con. Gideon could belong to Schrader, and here he was, Lance’s only backup.
If Schrader wanted Lance dead, though, he’d be dead already
Lance slipped from the car and led the way inside. What else could he do?
Zed sat in his office, slumped over his desk. The murder was tidy. Two gunshots to the back of his head. Quick, anyway.
Message received.
He registered relief that Zed hadn’t been tortured.
Gideon spread out a plastic sheet on the floor, and Lance helped lower Zed’s body onto it. As he wrapped up Zed, he tried to focus solely on what he was doing, not about how much he cared about the man. They hadn’t been close, but Lance had trusted him.
Zed didn’t deserve this. He was a good guy. He had no idea what Lance was dragging him into.
Tears dropped onto the plastic. Lance wiped his eyes with his sleeve, and Gideon pretended not to notice.
Then a voice called out, “Junior, didn’t I teach you better than to leave evidence on bodies?”
Shit.
He was behind Lance. Lance froze and tried to control his breathing.
Across from him, Gideon dropped the plastic, pulled his gun, and pointed it at Schrader.
Lance held up his hand to stop him, and Schrader laughed.
“Would you look at that? I heard it, but I couldn’t believe it. Gideon Urquhart. I thought you were killed years ago.”
Lance couldn’t breathe. Urquhart? As in, Schrader's original syndicate partner, Darwin Urquhart?
That man had a son?
When Lance turned, Schrader had his gun out, pointed at Gideon. Lance looked between them, confused. “What?”
“Haven’t you two been properly introduced?” Schrader chuckled again. He kept his gun trained on Gideon.
“Lance, why is this man calling you Junior?” Gideon moved into a corner where he could see both of them. He kept his aim on Schrader but glared at Lance.
“Yes, tell him, Lance.” Schrader beamed like he was having the most exciting time. “Tell him you’re my junior. That Lance is your middle name. And Gatsby? Well that was pretty fanciful, wasn’t it?”
Lance winced as he looked at Gideon. The man looked like he was ready to vomit. His jaw tightened, and he kept his gun leveled at Schrader. It was obvious Gideon was struggling to keep his expression neutral.
In that moment, Lance was ashamed. His fear had kept him from telling Gideon the truth. At the time, it made sense. Now that Lance realized how wrong he’d been, his head hurt. How many people was he going to get killed today?
“Gideon didn’t know.” Schrader shook his head. “He didn’t know, Junior. Maybe if he’d seen me before my scar—the scar his father gave me—he would’ve realized. But he didn’t. And now look at you two working together, just like Darwin hoped. Time is a flat circle.” Schrader chuckled and shook his head again.
After a side look at Gideon, who appeared murderous, Lance figured Gideon didn’t understand why his father had died. Lance knew all too well. That he’d been making nice with Darwin’s son unsettled him. No wonder Voelker had laughed.
Lance stared at Gideon. His gun was still up, but he didn’t look like he was going to shoot. At least, not now.
Lance folded his arms, the only one at the party without a gun out. He wasn’t sure who to point it at anyway. “Unless someone is truly intending on shooting the other, I suggest you put your guns away.”
“You only say that because yours is in your jacket, Kitten.” Gideon gave him a small smile, but Lance wasn’t sure he could trust it. Being the son of the man who murdered Gideon’s father seemed a precarious position. Or it would be if Schrader gave two shits whether his only child was shot.
In fairness, Lance wasn’t sure he’d care if Schrader ate a bullet either.
“I say that because I want to get to the fucking point here. Why all the fanfare, Schrader? Why did you need to talk to me so fucking bad?”
“Because I need you.” Schrader and Gideon watched each other carefully as they put their guns away.
“I’m not interested. I made that clear to you eleven years ago. I don’t do your kind of business.” Lance folded his arms tightly, tucking his hand in his jacket so he could fondle his gun just in case he needed it.
“You did, Lance. But I've watched you here for eleven years, seen the work you do for clients we actually share. You didn’t know it, but you did some of my dirty work for me.” Schrader grinned as if that was something to be proud of. “So in reality, you only left when you went to school. Even then, I knew where you were.”
Lance stared at the hardwood floor covered in plastic. Standing over a dead body and being informed he was being recruited into Raider, his father's crime syndicate, sounded about right. Time really was a flat circle.
A sense of doom overwhelmed Lance. He was done with his fath
er, but his father wasn’t done with him.
He eyed Gideon, hoping for some glimmer of rebellion, some plan to overthrow Schrader, but all he saw in Gideon was depressed resignation.
Lance sighed. “So you’re saying my tech clients, they were yours?”
“Some of them, yes.” Schrader smiled. “Think nothing of it. I knew you were just starting out.”
Lance looked at the ceiling. Had things been too easy? He’d managed to get stories redacted, flooded bad reviews off the front pages of search results, met the right reporters at the right time. Had that all been Schrader? Had he been doing Schrader’s dirty work all this time?
He exhaled slowly. “What do you need me for?”
Schrader was careful not to turn his back on Gideon as he patted Lance’s shoulder. “I just want you to keep doing what you’re doing, but I want you to be more aware of why you’re doing it. Corey says you’ve been a little cold to the senator. I need you to remain close to him.”
“Oh, so you’re pimping now?” Lance shifted away from his dad and looked at Gideon, who studiously avoided Lance’s gaze. He hadn’t left, so there was that, but Gideon didn’t look pleased with the situation. “Why, Dad? He’ll be president someday. Too powerful for you to fuck with. His poll numbers are—”
“Suspiciously high for a candidate saying all the wrong things to the Republican base, am I right? Have you seen the internet? Fox News for that matter?” Schrader shook his head. “Yet, poll time, Elliot is doing really well. Wonder how that happened.”
Lance stared at his dad, too shocked to speak. Was it possible? There was something magical about how Elliot always came out on top in the primaries and caucuses, despite positions contrary to some key demographics. And, after all, Schrader did employ hackers, people like Michael. If anyone was going to fix an election…
Lance couldn’t let his gaze settle anywhere, too nervous about where this conversation might lead. Cold sweat seeped from his skin at the realization he’d been caught in a spider’s web for years. Now Schrader was creeping in on him, razor-sharp pincers ready to devour at will. “Is that why Michael was murdered?”
“Oh, him.” Schrader appeared almost bored. He waved his hand. “He stalked you on Grindr. Filmed your little encounter and tried to blackmail me with it.”
“So you killed him? Over that?” Lance’s stomach turned. He tightened his arms around himself.
“I’m not embarrassed by you being gay. I just can’t abide people trying to blackmail me. I made an example of him.” Schrader wrinkled his nose and shifted his weight. “I give in to one… It’s not like it would be that difficult to get more video of your promiscuity. Better to nip that in the bud. Besides, you’re on to bigger and better things.”
That was a lot to take in. “So Michael wasn’t rigging the election?”
“He was part of the team, but not the main part. I replaced him.” Schrader leaned on Zed’s desk and poked at his pens.
Lance snatched the pens away, angry Schrader was so presumptuous with the belongings of a man he’d murdered. “So this is a new business venture of yours? Rigging elections?”
“Doesn’t hurt to have ear of the most powerful man in the industrialized world, does it? Besides, he seems common-sense. I could do worse for candidates, but I like this one because I can use my son as leverage against him when I need something.”
So it was like that. The way Schrader said it was so simple, so smooth, that it almost sounded reasonable.
Kill a man for blackmail. Thwart the will of the people to get your way in politics.
Lance stopped hugging himself. He wasn’t a child. He was trained to be a killer. “And if I don’t agree to help you?”
The move was so quick neither Lance nor Gideon had time to respond before the bullet tore through Gideon’s arm. “People you like will get hurt.”
Lance recoiled in horror, then ran to Gideon, who’d staggered against the wall and slid down, clutching his arm. He didn’t scream, but his handsome face had paled, and he was gritting his teeth. Gideon tried to shift away from Lance, but Lance was determined at least to bandage him. “Get me the First Aid kit off the top of the fridge, Schrader.”
When Lance looked up, his dad was gone, and Lance worried he’d shouted an order into an empty room, but Schrader appeared with the First Aid kit and set it down on the plastic.
“Do we understand each other, Junior?” Schrader’s whisper was filled with malice.
Lance nodded as he pulled off Gideon’s jacket and shirt. He opened the kit, lamenting his dwindling supplies. The bullet had gone through Gideon’s arm, so Lance just cleaned and bandaged it, a tedious job, but one Lance was accustomed to.
He looked back over his shoulder, but Schrader had gone, having delivered his message in the most devastating way. Tears of frustration sprang to Lance’s eyes as he worked on Gideon’s arm.
Gideon wouldn’t even meet Lance’s gaze. It was just as well; Lance was feeling pretty sick about the situation. But Gideon wasn’t Darwin, and it wasn’t fair to hold him responsible for Darwin’s actions. Certainly Lance wouldn’t want to be held accountable for anything Schrader did.
What bothered Lance the most was that he wasn’t sure anymore if he could count on Gideon to have his back. In the back of his mind, he wondered at what his relationship with Elliot was becoming.
If Lance were honest with himself, their infatuation seemed to be at its end.
And how would Lance tell Elliot the election was fixed in his favor? That he’d be beholden to Schrader? Lance wasn’t privy to Schrader’s plans for after Elliot was in office, but he couldn’t imagine his father focusing on foreign policy.
This was all so peculiar. It wasn’t as if Schrader had ever showed interest in politics. Sure, he traded in secrets and had a bit of a spy network set up, but what did he need that would require the help of the leader of the free world?
Schrader dreamed big, that was for sure. His ambition had grown Raider into an organization employing many people who did the blackest ops, the darkest duties, stole the deepest secrets. If Schrader wanted the presidency, the organization must have grown more massive than Lance had ever imagined.
He felt overwhelmed.
Finishing the bandages, Lance scooted away from Gideon.
“We need to get him out of here.” Gideon stood and resumed wrapping Zed’s body as if nothing had happened.
They didn’t speak or even look at each other until the body was sealed. Then Gideon borrowed Lance’s keys and, with help, hoisted Zed into Lance’s tiny car. Where Gideon went with the body, Lance would never know, but he returned two hours later in a change of clothes.
He held his wounded left arm a little stiffly, but otherwise Lance would never have guessed he’d been shot.
“Probably can’t catch a flight back to South Carolina at this hour of the morning.” Lance took his keys from Gideon. Their fingers brushed, but they both averted their gazes.
“It can wait until tomorrow. I don’t think I could drive.” Gideon’s expression was unreadable. His normally slicked back hair hung into dark eyes that looked anywhere but Lance.
“You can stay with me.” It wasn’t the first time Lance had invited Gideon over, though this time, with all they’d heard and learned, he didn’t think he’d be refused.
“Sure.”
✽ ✽ ✽
They weren’t in Lance’s apartment long before Gideon turned him around and kissed him. Hard. These kisses had an edge. Teeth scraping his lips and tongue, on the cusp of drawing blood.
Gideon undressed Lance like the clothes offended him. Lance’s tie flew off in one direction. His jacket dropped. Buttons popped on his oxford, pinging off the floor of the entryway. Whenever Lance tried to return the favor, Gideon slapped away Lance’s hands.
No, Gideon wanted control.
He unfastened Lance’s belt and wrapped it around his throat like a threat. Lance hated it, but it excited him. His cock stiffened as he gasped for br
eath. He watched Gideon pull down Lance’s pants and underwear, then remove the shoes and socks until Lance stood bare in the front hall with his clothes strewn haphazardly around him. For some reason, Lance felt suddenly shy, rising embarrassedly on his toes at Gideon’s intense gaze.
Gideon traced the line of Lance’s hip to his groin and stroked his cock, expression more curious than angry.
How vulnerable he’d left himself to Gideon. Their families were enemies and yet…
Gideon grabbed Lance around the waist, his other arm snaking around Lance’s shoulders. He kissed him ravenously, fingertips sliding between Lance’s ass cheeks.
Lance whimpered and closed his eyes to focus on the sensation. Was this a fuck before dying? Where had Lance’s self-preservation instinct gone?
He shouldn’t be allowing this to happen. Gideon hated Schrader. Now, after this betrayal, he had to hate Lance too.
But now, with Gideon touching him this way, the soft rubbing around his opening, being held so tight in Gideon’s arms, it felt reassuring somehow.
“Go to your room.”
Lance opened his eyes, breathing in Gideon’s breath, and then slipped from his arms to slink into the bedroom. There, Lance set out condoms and lube and waited.
When Gideon walked in naked and hard, more strangely gorgeous than Lance had ever imagined, Lance knew he hadn’t made the wrong decision.
Laying back on the bed, Lance started to loosen the belt from around his neck. The mattress dipped as Gideon situated himself between Lance’s legs. Brushing aside Lance’s hands, Gideon pulled the belt tight again. It constricted Lance’s breathing, but not more than he could handle.
Gideon wouldn’t meet Lance’s gaze, but his intense stare warmed other parts of Lance’s body. As Lance watched, goosebumps prickling his skin, Gideon grabbed a condom and smoothed lube over the latex with the same surgical precision he exercised in all other things. He gave Lance a cursory exploration, fingers pressing sharply inside him, twisting to slick his entrance.
Then Gideon pressed his hard, wet tip against Lance’s opening. Lance tensed with his legs up, askew, uncertain where to put them. Gideon gathered them in his grip, pressing Lance’s legs together to hook them over Gideon’s shoulder as he sank inside. Finally, Gideon met Lance’s gaze. His expression was soft, dreamy. He leaned in to kiss Lance again, this time like a lover. As their lips moved together, Gideon toyed with the belt. It was too loose now, but that didn’t seem to be the point.
