Liam studied the data illuminating the screen. Danverse had sent an urgent private message with his suspicions on the report’s legitimacy, and Liam had to agree. He kicked himself for glossing over the details earlier because he couldn’t look away from the entrancing blue eyes in the photo. He never should have been so sloppy.
He was thankful he was now on a trail to gain some insight into Hadrian, but he didn’t understand why Danverse cared enough to mark the message “urgent.” The captain had good reason for background checks on all passengers, wanting no trouble from the authorities. He had a right to pick and choose his charges, but he was demanding a deeper investigation. Liam couldn’t understand Danverse’s personal animosity toward Hadrian. When had Danverse ever turned away from an attractive man? There was an answer to this puzzle somewhere, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. The captain’s moods had been a bit of a carnival ride since their last session before they landed in Luxoria.
A shudder ran down Liam’s spine as he recalled his last night’s dream. It had been far less vicious than the previous nightmare but still left him awake in a cold sweat. And he knew it would continue to return—it always did—ultimately with devastating force if he allowed himself to ignore it for too long. This was not the time to ponder his mental health.
Cyber-green text scrolled across the monitor for the third or fourth time as Liam scanned the all-too-brief history. There was still nothing there, and reviewing it again wasn’t making a damn bit of difference. He took a swig of his favorite Centurian-brewed ale, glad he’d been able to replenish his private stock while they were in port.
He looked at Hadrian’s portrait and ran a finger over the digital cheek, disappointed in the cool, hard feel of the glass. The sterile image only captured a hint of Hadrian’s beauty. The face on the screen was barely recognizable when compared with the version Liam couldn’t help picturing from the shower: ragged locks of hair gone and all clean shaven. If not for the unmistakable eyes and lips, he might not believe it to be the same man at all. Lost in fantasy, his jock shifted as his flesh started to swell.
Liam grumbled at his dick. “Down, boy.” There was work to be done. He was glad Danverse had sent his suspicions. The captain had started looking into things, but Liam was far better at unburying pasts.
He sat at his desk, ignoring the initial chill as the faux-leather cushion touched his bare buttocks.
“Mrs. Claus, I need an encrypted Subspace Link to Luxoria. I don’t want any sniffer hacks following me home.”
“Of course, Sergeant Jacks. The link is ready when you are.” He settled into his chair and began his work in earnest.
Two more hours and three more ales and Liam was no further along than when he started. He’d lost count of how many different searches he had run over the Luxorian Link and had come up with nothing more than the fake ID he began with. He’d read it so many times he’d nearly memorized it.
He pushed away from the desk and fired his empty bottle into the recycler. Rubbing the base of his neck, he growled as he paced the small cabin, looking for inspiration. How could his efforts come up with nothing? He was no novice, but the lack of even the beginning of some kind of lead was making him feel like an amateur. It wasn’t so much that he couldn’t find what he was looking for, he realized. The details weren’t there. All evidence of Hadrian’s existence on Luxoria was wiped clean. No trace. Who could wipe a person from an entire planet and do it so completely? Whatever Hadrian was hiding had to be significant.
That reaffirmed his belief that Hadrian needed his help.
There was a mutual attraction between them. During the random moments when they crossed paths over the last week, even after the shower, he could see the way Hadrian stole glances when he thought Liam wasn’t looking. How he turned those ice-blue eyes away at the last second when Liam caught him. He knew there was something there, if he could only get a chance to explore it. Liam assured himself he wasn’t suffering from some insane stalker syndrome. He was convinced if he could help Hadrian, he might have a chance. But he had to discover Hadrian’s secrets first, and he hoped he could stomach them. When someone holds on to secrets with a tenacious grip, they’re either too scandalous to bear or too dangerous to share. Liam suspected it was the latter, because he had the distinct impression Hadrian was trying to protect him from something. Of course, that could just be the wishful thinking of one man crushing on another.
Liam turned back to the screen and viewed the results of the last search. Nothing. Useless lines of code mocked him from the screen. It was as if Hadrian hadn’t been born on Luxoria at all.
“Son of a bitch.”
That was it. Hadrian wasn’t a native of Luxoria. He couldn’t believe it had taken him so long to see it. He needed to continue his search elsewhere. Fifteen other possible planetary colonies to choose from…where to start? Hadrian was heading to Alpha Centauri. That was as good an option as any other.
“Mrs. Claus, redirect the secure Link to Alpha Centauri. Redo all search parameters.”
“One moment, Sergeant. Search results will be complete in approximately fifteen minutes and forty seconds. I am condensing all previous searches over the last two hours into relevant Alpha Centauri substitutions.”
Liam slumped backward on his unmade bed while he waited, his bare legs straddling the corner of the mattress. He was sure he could help Hadrian. He needed to. He would do anything for a chance to kiss those supple lips and feel that kiss returned.
Without conscious thought, he reached into his jock and cupped the swelling mass inside as he thumbed a hardened nipple through his shirt with his right hand. Visions of Hadrian in the shower danced through his head as a firm squeeze to his balls brought him to full size.
The thought of the smooth skin that barely contained the rippling sinews beneath it raised a rapid fire in Liam. If only he could examine those tattoos up close. He longed to follow the designs with his gaze and trace them with his tongue. Did they taste as good as they looked? Did Hadrian? The salt of his flesh was no doubt the finest natural flavor.
A rough pinch to his already-sensitized nipple made Liam arch his back off the bed. He gasped as his left hand worked its way down beneath the straining pouch. When he stroked the opening between his cheeks, the gasp blurred into a moan. He began to press a finger inside, and his brain became a smear of lust. Reaching out, he popped the drawer on the wall next to his bed and pulled out his favorite toy.
Rolling the synthetic phallus in his palm, Liam raised his feet to the mattress. The toy, made of realistic synth-flesh, was self-lubricating, self-cleaning, and could change length and girth to the user’s preference. Even Danverse didn’t know about it. This was Liam’s special secret. With a few quick adjustments, the device was the size and shape of what he imagined Hadrian’s erect cock to be.
Liam’s need was so intense, he hardly had to prepare himself before the slick dildo was buried to the hilt. His eyes rolled back in relief. Once he recovered from the initial shock, he hefted his dick from the pouch and started stroking with both hands: one on his real cock and one on the artificial. The internal and external friction was sending him into orbit. His head thrashed as he pounded himself harder, imagining himself with Hadrian. This could be Hadrian’s hand on his cock. This could be Hadrian’s cock in his ass. What would it be like to have Hadrian come inside him?
That was the thought that finished him. His moan turned into a roar and semen sprayed like a burst artery, jetting across his shirt and bedcovers in time with the spasms clamping the phallus inside him. Slowly the crescendo faded, and Liam found himself sprawled on the bed, the bleachy scent of bodily fluids and sweat filling the room.
Once his breathing began to level, Liam looked down at the expressionist painting coating him as he wiped a stray streak from his jaw.
“Shit. This is my favorite shirt. I hope it comes clean.”
Liam stared at the ceiling. He couldn’t believe how strongly Hadrian affected him. Picturing Hadr
ian fucking him through the mattress brought him to the end a lot faster than he expected—faster, and explosively. Would he survive the real thing if given the chance?
What was he going to do?
“Your search results are complete, Sergeant.”
Liam jumped at the sound of Mrs. Claus’s voice. He had started to drift away, lying there feeling the cooling wetness on his shirt and skin. Even though she was the ship’s AI, he still felt like he’d been caught playing with himself. In a way, he had been.
The screen showed three possible Hadrian Jamisons on Alpha Centauri. One was a seventy-three-year-old botanist. The second was his fifty-year-old son. The last entry grabbed Liam’s complete attention.
Hadrian Jamison. Deceased ten-year-old orphan. Dead for over eighteen years.
Liam called up the archived picture and felt more confused than ever. A familiar pair of ice-blue eyes stared back from the monitor. There was no mistaking the eyes and mouth. It was a ten-year-old version of Hadrian. Facial recognition and age extrapolation confirmed it.
Why did Alpha Centauri think Hadrian was dead, and what was he doing on Luxoria?
THE NIGHTMARE WAS fresh in Liam’s memory, as it always was when he woke in a cold sweat. The chaos, the screams, and the gunshot’s deafening report echoed in his ears. The blood glistened wet on his hands, its stains refusing to wash clean. The sheets fluttered to the floor as he tore himself from the bed. Sleep was over for the night.
Grabbing a cup of water from the dispenser, he drank in desperate swallows. He stared into the darkness as he wiped his mouth across his forearm, his hands still shaking. How many years had it been? How long would the horrors of war plague his tortured soul? Was it possible to make amends? Could he truly bury the past?
Concentrating on the soft hum of the ship’s engines, he tried to focus past the craziness threatening to crawl out of him. The sweat cooling on his body chilled him, heightening the haunted sensation. This was a bad one. He was moments away from bolting to Danverse’s quarters and having him lash the demon down.
With a scream born of sadness and rage, Liam hurled the cup at his desk. It smashed across the surface, caroming off the wall and apparently taking half the desk’s contents with it. In the near darkness, Liam listened to the items raining on the hard floor like shattered puzzles. He would not go to Danverse. He couldn’t, no matter how enticing the lure that could drown the pain and bring silence. It wasn’t fair to Danverse when Liam harbored no romantic feelings for him. A voice kept telling him his liaisons with the captain would only ruin their friendship. The voice was right. Liam needed something else to pour his attentions into.
“Mrs. Claus. Give me the location of Hadrian Jamison.”
For a week, since discovering the forged death notice, Liam had kept a constant watch on Hadrian. Whether he spied him in the mess hall or had Mrs. Claus give him access to the security-vid feed that ran throughout the ship, he knew Hadrian’s whereabouts at all times. Liam was becoming obsessed. He had continued his search for more information, but beyond the death certificate, there was nothing. Hadrian’s parents had died in a transport accident when he was eight. Without surviving relatives, he had been remanded to the local orphanage. Cause of death was marked as cardiac infarction, which was ridiculous. A medical condition that severe in a child could never be hidden. It would have been found and corrected at the time he entered the facility.
He needed to know more.
Hadrian’s activities over the past week had provided little information to alleviate the mystery. Eating, showering, and reading stories from the Link in his quarters, Hadrian spent most of his time alone. When Liam saw him in person, the sadness in Hadrian’s eyes mirrored his own.
Mrs. Claus was polite as usual. “Hadrian Jamison is in Cargo Bay Two.”
Liam snapped. “How the hell is that possible? That bay is locked. All of them are. Who let him in?”
“The access codes used to unlock the bay were yours, Sergeant.” Liam’s confusion turned to anger as a wave of betrayal washed over the lingering pall from his dream. He’d found a new focus.
“When?”
“Forty-seven minutes ago.”
“I was in bed. Show me the security feed.” The wall screen came to life. There sat Hadrian on top of a stack of cargo containers, wearing the same outfit and robe he’d entered the ship in. Liam studied the scene. Other than accessing the space, Hadrian didn’t appear to have disturbed anything. He was just sitting there…meditating?
Liam quickly clothed himself and stalked down to the cargo bay. The door opened with a loud hiss. In the middle of the piles of crates, Hadrian sat unfazed by the intrusion. Liam felt an uncomfortable mix of anger and arousal at the sight of him but spoke with authority.
“What are you doing in here?”
“I am sorry. I was looking for a quiet corner. Sometimes, it is difficult to block out the voices.” Hadrian turned to Liam and began a graceful climb down from his perch. Liam marveled at how effortlessly he landed on his feet.
Refusing to be distracted, Liam growled. “How did you get in?”
“I did not mean to overhear. Some people’s voices are harder to quiet than others. Yours in particular. You have a habit of repeating the code after you perform your rounds.”
“I do not.” Liam stared into those ice-blue eyes, crossing his arms over his chest in defiance.
Hadrian sighed and averted his gaze. “Not out loud, no.”
“That makes no sense.”
“Please, Liam. I am only interested in making a quiet journey back to Alpha Centauri. I should not have used your access code. I just needed some distance. It has been harder and harder to keep you out. Your nightmare tonight was…” Hadrian’s eyes became unfocused and mercurial, his expression fading.
“Liam, we have to go. Now.”
“What?”
Hadrian’s voice was becoming hurried, almost panicked. “We have to get out of here.”
“We’re not leaving until I have some answers.”
“We cannot stay here!”
“You’re not making sense.”
Hadrian gasped. “It is too late.”
He grasped Liam’s wrist and dragged him into an aisle between two tall stacks of crates, nearly causing him to stumble. He was about to protest when Hadrian covered his mouth with his hand.
Hadrian’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Quiet.” He peered around the corner of the stack they were hidden behind. Liam stiffened when he heard the sound of the outer airlock hiss open. They were in space. Someone was docked with the ship. Where was the intruder alert? He could hear voices. Multiple voices.
Liam crawled between the rows to get a better look. Seven men in dirty militaristic clothing were talking amongst themselves. They seemed to be coordinating their efforts as they scanned crates the way he had done at the beginning of the trip. There were a lot of valuable items in the bay. No doubt that was what they were after.
Fucking raiders.
Each raider was armed with combat knives and projectile weapons, and everything became a lot more serious. Projectile weapons were exceptionally dangerous on a spacecraft. One misplaced bullet and an explosive decompression would kill everyone on board unless the emergency bulkheads could close fast enough.
He admonished himself for rushing out so fast he’d left his quarters without his communicator. The only way to contact the ship was a verbal connection to Mrs. Claus, which was too risky right then. Why she hadn't raised an alarm, Liam couldn't guess. He was unarmed and unable to summon help as the raiders worked their way through the bay.
He snuck back to the spot where he had left Hadrian.
“We have to get out of here. When I tell you, run for the main door.”
Hadrian’s grip on his wrist held him fast.
“You cannot. Every path that way ends in death. It is too far. They see us every time we go.”
“What are you talking about?”
Hadrian wasn’t making s
ense, but his manner was so matter-of-fact that Liam found himself trusting him. He just didn’t understand why.
Hadrian caressed Liam’s cheek. “There is only one path that guarantees survival. Your threat has to be removed. They know you are the security chief. I am sorry, Liam.” Liam shuddered at the contact even if he didn’t comprehend what Hadrian was telling him. It distracted him enough that he never predicted the gunshot and bullet that blew a hole through his upper chest, slamming him into the storage stack. He slid down the wall, leaving a wet smear in his wake, and slumped down into the aisle.
One of the raiders called out, “I hit the security chief!” Footsteps drew closer, the rest converging on his position.
Liam lay unmoving as the blinding pain held him still. A hot wetness spread over his shirt in contrast to the cold metal floor against his back. His body shook with trauma, refusing to move to save itself, but his eyes somehow stayed open. With a wet gasp, he tasted blood in his mouth. He tried to call out to Mrs. Claus and send out an alarm, but he couldn't find the necessary breath to produce more than a pained whisper. Of all the ways Liam had envisioned his death, this was not one of them. Hadrian’s warm, comforting hand touched his leg.
“Do not worry, Liam. Stay awake. It will be all right.” Hadrian stood up and shed his bulky outer robe. The form-fitting black vest underneath blended with the snug leggings he had always sported. The winding tattoo down his arm was visible, and every exposed muscle flexed, ready to unleash itself. His expression was calm, cold fury. His eyes regained that unfocused stare as he turned and stepped out into the aisle and into the raiders’ sight.
The first raider raised his weapon and fired, Hadrian sidestepping a moment before he pulled the trigger. Several bullet holes riddled the space where Liam and Hadrian had been standing. The other raiders came running, and Hadrian closed the distance with frightening speed. Gripping the first raider’s gun hand, he turned it over, snapping the wrist as he struck the man in the throat. As he rode the man with dead eyes to the floor, he stole the combat knife strapped to his chest and launched himself at the second and third.
The Luxorian Fugitive Page 6
