by Aiden Bates
Derek laughed. "Has it really only been a year?"
"Buckle up. There are plenty more of them to come."
<<<<>>>>
Bonus Chapter
Derek sat in the visiting room. The room stank. It reeked of unwashed bodies, thanks to the limits on inmates’ rights to shower, and it stank of people who’d been waiting in the hot waiting room for hours just to get their time in. God, he hated this.
His heel tapped against the grimy linoleum floor. Was this really the best idea? Dr. Radic thought so, but Derek wasn’t sold. He didn’t see the point in this exercise. He could probably get out now, if he tried. Sure, it would be a waste of the inmate’s time, but the guy had tried to kill him, so maybe that was okay.
Two guards appeared, gripping an inmate’s arms. They guided him forward and roughly pushed him into the chair on the other side of the barrier. Once they’d secured him to the table, or the bolt in the floor, or whatever it was that they used to hold inmates town, they backed away.
Elijah Brown had not aged well. In his youth he’d been a handsome man, with prominent cheekbones, smoldering eyes, and a wicked grin that broke hearts all over Victorville. Now, those eyes were sunken, and his skin had grown sallow. His arms were covered in cheap do-it-yourself tattoos, and his long beard was unkempt. Derek wouldn’t have been surprised to see a rodent pop its head out.
Elijah looked Derek over. “Well,” he said, shifting in his seat. “You got tall.”
“People do that,” Derek told him. “You know, when they grow up.”
Elijah huffed out a little laugh. “Yeah, that was kind of a surprise to a lot of us.”
“Certainly to you.” Derek set his jaw. “So. Corcoran, huh?”
“Yup. What can I say? After the last time they denied me parole, they sent me up here. Guess they decided I was just too much of a piece of shit to leave anyplace else.”
“You shanked a guard.” Derek lifted his eyebrows.
“Okay, well, he needed to die. He had this constant runny nose. Drip drip drip. You know how it is. You’re stuck up in here and there’s always something that’s just going to get you, you know? When you ain’t got no hope.” He bit his lip. “How come you kept going to the parole board and telling them not to let me go?”
Derek scoffed. “Are you kidding me right now? For real? You murdered my mom.”
“Okay, but that was a long time ago. And let’s face it, she kind of deserved it. I mean she was a crap mom, am I right? Too high to feed you, too high to get you from school, too high to clean you up…” Elijah waved a dismissive hand. “She was a waste of space.”
“She had her good points.” Derek couldn’t argue with any of his father’s points. She had done all of those things, but she’d baked him cookies too. She’d held him when he’d been scared, and rocked him to sleep. “And she’s not the one you were aiming for. So there’s that.”
“There is that.” Dad nodded. “You sore ‘cause I was trying to shoot at you?”
“Little bit, Dad. Little bit.” Derek couldn’t process the absurdity of this conversation.
“Fair enough.” Dad shrugged. “I’ll tell you the truth, kid. I never applied for parole. I figured if they gave it to me they gave it to me, but I never applied for it. I was hurt that you denied it.”
“Did you expect different?”
“I hoped for different. What’s the point in rehabilitating if you can’t ever be rehabilitated, you know? But I can’t blame you either, I guess. When your woman takes a bullet for your kid, in front of him, that’s a pretty powerful barrier.”
Derek slumped back in his chair. “You used to take me hiking sometimes. And fishing.”
Elijah grinned. He was missing more than a few teeth. “I did. I did. You remember that, do you?”
“Yeah. Those aren’t the kind of memories a kid leaves behind, you know?” Derek tapped his foot against the linoleum again. “My childhood wasn’t all bad. I had a lot of good moments.”
“It was a little chaotic here and there.” Dad shifted his weight. “Your ma, she was a druggie, pure and simple. And me, I was a drunk. I still am. I did try to sober up a bit for this visit.”
“I appreciate that.” Derek did appreciate the effort, even if the comment added to the surreal nature of the conversation.
“I thought you might. Look, we were both pretty flawed people and we probably oughtn’t to have had a kid in the first place. But we did. We did as well as we could, given our demons, but our demons got the best of us sometimes. Having a kid, it ain’t easy. Kids are great, don’t get me wrong, but they bring out all of your worst traits too. You want so much for them, and if you’ve got a weakness it’s like taking a big magnifying glass to that weakness.
“You want to know why I wanted to kill you that day.”
Derek’s blood ran cold. He’d come here to find that out, but hearing it said just like that still made him want to hide under the covers and wait for everything to go away. “Yeah,” he said around a dry mouth.
“I thought it would be kinder.” Elijah closed his eyes. “It seems stupid now that I’m older and more sober, and now that you’re a big strong man and not a tiny little kid with a brand new test result saying you’re an omega. I saw what a mess our life was. And I thought—well, all I knew were stereotypes, right? I thought to myself, ‘Well, who is going to protect him from everything out there? Who’s going to protect him from her, for crying out loud?’ And I pulled out my gun, because it was better for you to die before you had to see the world for what it really was.”
Derek wrinkled his nose. “That’s almost touching.”
Elijah huffed out a laugh. “I told you it was stupid. I was rip roaring drunk. I don’t know how I even got back to the house. I know more about omegas now. And you’ve done okay out there in the world, all things considered. I mean you look okay. Anything I should know about?”
There was nothing Elijah should know. At the same time, Derek wasn’t going to deny him. “I, ah. I’m married. He’s a good guy. Doctor. His family’s a little screwed up, which just goes to show.”
Elijah waved a hand. “Rich folks just like to pretend their families are better than ours. Believe you me, deep down they’re even sicker.”
Derek wouldn’t deny it. “We had a baby about three years ago. She’s the funniest little girl. Her name is Natasha, but she goes by Tasha. She’s got pretty little brown curls and she loves to sing.” He cleared his throat. “Um. I work in radio - I’m music director at a rock station back east.” He swallowed. “It wasn’t always easy. Your parents blamed me for your being here. Kicked me to foster care. Um. I got shot, about a year before Tasha was born. Lost a kidney to a knife fight, but I’m doing okay.”
“Lost a kidney, huh? What happened to the other guy?”
“Oh, he was a human trafficker. He’s in jail now.” Derek waved a hand. “I try not to think about him if I can avoid it.”
“Huh. Okay.” Elijah narrowed his eyes. “That was that fracas I heard about up in Syracuse, wasn’t it?”
Derek blinked. “You heard about that?”
“Damn straight I did. We get the news in here, you know. You did good, son. You did good.”
Derek blushed. “Thanks, Dad.”
A single tear fell from Elijah’s eye. “It sure is good to hear that word again.”
A guard stepped in. “Time’s up,” he said, in a gentle tone. “Come on, Elijah.”
Elijah hung his head for a second, but he got up to his feet. “Thanks for coming, son.”
The guards led him away, and Derek left the visitation room.
Alex waited in the rental car outside in the parking lot. He didn’t say a word until they got back to their hotel. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m okay.” Derek looked out the window at the dry countryside on their way to the local Hampton Inn. “I will be, anyway. It was weird.”
“Weird how?” Alex scowled. “Did he say anything to you? Because I’ll go ba
ck there and, Supermax or not, I will kick his ass.”
Derek scoffed. Alex could not take Elijah. Elijah had been back-alley brawling since he’d been a kid. “It was just weird. Everything was more complicated than I thought it could be. He was just… He was more affectionate than someone who’s tried to kill you should be. And it was… he didn’t try to pretend he hadn’t done it, or hadn’t meant to do it. But he still seemed to love me?” he shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t understand.”
“You’ll process it all. And in the meantime, you’ll rest.”
Derek did rest, until they got to the Hampton Inn. Once there, he headed into the shower, because he wanted to get the smell of prison off of himself. Then he headed back into the room.
Alex looked him over. “Resting?” He lifted an eyebrow.
“If you really want to.”
Alex didn’t really want to. He pounced onto Derek with a hunger Derek hadn’t seen in a little while, like a starving man. Derek didn’t stop him or object. Their sex life was good, but it was hard to get creative or passionate when they had other people in the house.
They didn’t have that problem here.
Alex distributed little nibbles all along Derek’s neck, just the way he liked. Derek tilted his head to the side, giving Alex easier access. Oh yes; this he wanted.
Alex nudged Derek until Derek fell backwards onto the bed. Derek didn’t try to stop him, but let himself crash onto the duvet and let his legs fall open. He wanted to give Alex everything, anything he wanted whenever he wanted it. Derek’s own need rose between his legs, dark and hot like a beacon.
Alex’s hands roamed everywhere on Derek’s body except for his cock, bringing his body to what felt like a melting point in almost no time. “You want it bad, don’t you?” Alex’s grin turned savage and teasing. “I bet you can’t wait to have me inside of you.”
“Please.” Derek looked into his lust-blown eyes. “Please.”
Alex pulled a bottle of lube out of the nightstand. Derek hadn’t seen him put it there, but he must have planned this. He shucked his clothes quickly, and made quick work of prep. Derek was almost screaming by the time Alex worked his way into him, short shallow thrusts making him pant and beg.
Today was going to be one of Alex’s hard and fast days. Derek knew that when Alex lifted Derek’s feet and put them on his shoulders. He grinned. Slow and loving was good too, but right now he just wanted Alex to drive every complicated thought right out of his head.
Alex obliged. He snapped his hips back and slammed back into him. Then he did it again, and again. Derek’s limbs trembled as his body’s pleasure grew. Everything else faded away—the room, the bed, the hotel, the prison. There was only him, Alex, and the connection between him.
His orgasm screamed through him like an explosion. Derek was almost floating, up above everything. He’d read about out of body experiences. This was one, and he never wanted it to end.
He came back down just as Alex was pulling out. “You’re amazing,” he told his husband, a huge dopey grin spreading over his face.
“No, babe. You are.” Alex kissed him again, more tenderly this time.
He got a cloth to clean them both up, and then they took a nap. Later, they would continue their journey. They would meet up with the Natashas, their daughter and Alex’s mother, in Anaheim. They would go to Disneyland, and they would build some more happy memories for their little family.
For now, though, all they needed was one another.
Bonus Teaser: SEALed With A Kiss
Mal opened up his laptop and logged in. No one else in the small, dark, nameless bar noticed him. He didn't expect they would. He'd been coming in here for a few weeks now, telling people he'd taken a flat in Empuriés just up the road. They accepted that easily enough. Who could blame a man for not wanting to go do whatever Internet things he was doing in a crowded tourist bar in the bigger village just up the way?
The bartender, Pau, brought the usual drink. "Early night for you."
Mal grinned. "Ah, you know how it is. The neighbors rented out their place to a bunch of German tourists."
Pau shuddered. "So many Speedos."
"Right?" Mal took the drink and gave Pau a few euros for it. He never paid with a credit card if he could avoid it.
He checked all of his cameras. As near as he could tell, everything in Rosas was exactly where it had been the last time he'd looked. He and Morna should be able to get into the Daesh facility, hook up to what they needed, and get out without any kind of fuss.
Of course, plans went awry all the time. That was why they were called plans, not certainties.
He reviewed the building plans one more time. The bunker wasn't the most sophisticated building. When you watched the BBC, you got the impression that bad guys' bunkers were these huge, elaborate lairs filled with traps and high-tech gadgetry that could all but be seen from space.
It all looked good on screen. Pretty much all that did was provide employment for special effects crews, and ensure that the average civilian wouldn't know what a real threat was if he tripped over it. Did no one think to wonder how much of a power draw that would be?
He checked the time again. It was time to move out.
He finished his drink and packed his things up. He hadn't left anything behind him at the table, nothing to indicate that he'd been there at all. He headed out down the quiet country road to the place where he'd hidden his motorcycle, and he hopped right on. Twenty-eight minutes later, he was standing in front of a health clinic.
Morna was waiting for him, arms crossed over her chest. "You're late."
"You need your watch checked. Why don't you get a watch that syncs to the same time everyone else uses, you Luddite?" He sniffed at her and parked the bike in her garage.
She threw up the two-fingered salute and led the way down into the clinic's basement.
Mal followed her. They stopped to suit up along the way. They didn't dare ride through the streets of a tourism-heavy town like Roses, even after dark, with a bunch of weapons strapped to their backs. This was Europe, a more civilized space than some other areas they could name. People didn't just wander into big box stores with assault rifles slung over their shoulders like some sort of post-Apocalyptic film.
They saved that for underground.
Once they'd gotten their gear together, Mal led the way to the hidden entrance to the tunnels underneath Roses.
Most of the people up above were tourists. They came for the beaches, because it was cheaper and more family-friendly than Ibiza. Plenty of them knew that Roses was an ancient city, occupied since before the Classical era. Some of them, mainly locals, knew that the site had been continuously occupied, and that under their feet lay the remains of what came before.
A few of them might have gone to see the occasional archaeological dig here and there. They might have been aware of the occasional vault, or have fallen into a cistern during a raucous celebration.
Very few people knew about the vast network of tunnels running underneath the town. It didn't go everywhere. It was the work of centuries. The vault under the altar of a small Gothic church might connect to an old Roman sewer via a tunnel dug in the 1930s by guerrilla fighters struggling to resist Franco.
Mal and Morna knew. It was their business to know.
They sneaked from the clinic, which stood near the beach, over to the stream. Mal didn't know what the name of this particular stream might be, but he knew where they were going. Above, there were roads, houses, and empty farmland. Mal and Morna were headed to the ruins of an old church. Once upon a time, it had been a pilgrimage site.
Now, it was a data center.
The terrorists who had built it were smart. They'd put up a solar panels, hidden by the ruins themselves. Morna had found those while "exploring" with a bunch of tourists one day. They almost certainly had backup. Mal would find out when he went in.
The church had fallen down during one of the wars that had plagued the region
over the centuries. No one knew which. Maybe it had been the Reconquista, or the Spanish Civil War, or the War of Spanish Succession, or whatever. Mal didn't care. The only thing he cared about right now was the vault.
The vault had one guard. Morna put a bullet in his head without even thinking about it. Her gun had a silencer, of course, but even with the silencer it still made a sound. The pair waited to see if they were going to see any kind of backup, but the vault remained quiet.
The unit they sought wasn't in the vault. Mal's brain raced in overtime. The church had been a place of refuge for people in time of war. They'd have needed a secure source of water, right? He pointed to a small door in the corner—a well.
