Heavens Aground (Treble and the Lost Boys Book 2)

by G. R. Lyons

  The computer beeped, and a new image popped up.

  “That.”

  Before Ryley could get a good look at the image, Vic pulled out his portable mini printer and ran off two copies of the image, handing one to Ryley and keeping one for himself.

  Ryley glanced from the boy's photo on the screen to the projected image in his hands. He'd almost forgotten Asher Arden would be a man now.

  Assuming the guy was still alive.

  He blew out a breath. That certainly made it easier. Finding a full-grown man was no big deal. Finding some scared little kid?

  He'd definitely leave that to Vic.

  Then Vic printed off two copies of the original photo. They shared a look as Vic handed one to him. That picture would only be necessary if the Arden kid was dead, and people would need to be reminded of how he looked when he went missing all those years ago.

  “Alright,” Vic said, closing his laptop and tapping together the pages he was taking with him. “Let's go.”

  Ryley gave the photos another glance, then gave a nod and followed.

  Chapter 8

  NEAR THE end of the second day of research, Ryley was barely through half his list. Vic was going to kill him.

  But he just couldn't help it.

  Why did they have to be doing this on Erostil, of all places? Why not Ceynes, where showing so much as a bare ankle was considered improper? Why not even Agoran? But no, they had to be on Erostil. They had to be on the one Isle in the world where it was not only legal but customary for people to walk around completely naked.

  So. Much. Dick. It was everywhere. Ryley couldn't look in any direction without seeing at least one naked man. The whole trip so far had been torture. While they'd been on tour, though they had sound checks and performances at night, their days had been entirely free, and Ryley hadn't been able to resist getting fucked by or going down on at least one random stranger each day as he wandered the Isle in vacation mode. But now he was working. He was technically on the clock. There was no way in all seven hells he should have even considered giving in to temptation when he was supposed to be tracking down a missing kid.

  But temptation clawed at him, and he kept caving.

  So many naked men wandering around. Sure, there were plenty of naked women, too, which was something Ryley definitely did not want to see, but the vast array of cock more than made up for it. Small cocks, big cocks, long ones, thick ones, pale ones, dark ones, curved ones, straight ones. Every kind of cock imaginable. All within view. All within reach.

  Even so, it still took some getting used to. The pure-blood Erosti were completely bald from head to toe. Not a hair to be found. Not even eyelashes. The whole thing was so very strange.

  But…dick.

  Ryley got up off his knees as the guy he'd just been blowing gave him a smile of thanks and walked away. He was no sooner on his feet than another man caught his eye. Then came the signal.

  Ryley groaned, his hole clenching at the thought of getting fucked by the man propositioning him. And Ryley knew it was a proposition. It hadn't taken long for him to catch on to the little gestures the Erosti made, indicating what kind of hookup they were looking for. His particular favorite, and the one the guy was giving him at that moment, involved a circle made with the thumb and index finger combined with an extended middle finger.

  It meant the guy was looking for a willing hole to fuck.

  Ryley whimpered, fighting temptation. Even considering the complete lack of privacy, he was tempted to drop to his knees right then and there. They were in the middle of a sort of courtyard surrounded by shops, right out in plain view, where anyone could stop and watch.

  That was another thing that made the whole experience of Erostil even more like exquisite torture: People had sex right out in the open. Exhibitionism and voyeurism galore. They attached no shame to the body or its needs.

  Which meant tourists were witness to live pornography of all different kinds at any time of day.

  Ryley was pretty sure his cock had been hard constantly from the moment they set foot off the ship.

  But he had to work. He had to focus. He had a job to do, and he was already behind. Drumming up as much resolve as he could muster, he gave the guy a tiny shake of his head, and the guy shrugged, flashed him a smile, and walked away.

  Ryley gasped out a breath when he realized he was holding it in.

  “So you can actually keep it in your pants.”

  Ryley yelped and whirled around. Vic was standing right there, a blank expression on his face.

  “Or, at least, sort of,” Vic added.

  Inhale, one. “What do you mean?”

  Vic shot him a look, then glanced pointedly at the bench where Ryley had just given a stranger a blowjob.

  Ryley cringed. Vic saw that? Shit. He was really going to have to be more careful, be stronger at resisting temptation.

  “It's funny,” Vic said, looking at the crowd as he spoke to Ryley. “Six years together, and I had no idea you were such an exhibitionist.”

  “Vic–”

  “Have you found anything?” Vic asked, cutting him off.

  Ryley shoved his hands into his pockets, stuffing his list deeper into one, keeping it out of sight. “Not yet.”

  Vic gave a sharp nod. “I'm hitting nothing but dead ends.” He shook his head, his expression all business now. “The trail might just be too cold. It's been so long.”

  “If anyone can find him, it's you,” Ryley said.

  Vic gave him an indulgent smile, then looked away again. “I'm going back to the room. I want to review the files again, see if I missed anything.” He paused and glanced at Ryley.

  “Oh, I've…uh…I've got one more on my list.” Try four more. “I'll get it done and head back.”

  Vic nodded and walked away without another word.

  Ryley sighed, watched him go, then pulled out his list, smoothing the crumpled sheet between his hands. Taking a deep breath—and pointedly trying to ignore all the naked people around—he headed off to his next stop.

  * * *

  AS IT turned out, Ryley only did get to one more name on his list before he headed back to the room for the night. The guy couldn't remember anything, unfortunately, and of the other three, one was dead, one was missing himself, and the third was buried in meetings and couldn't be disturbed. He'd have to try that one again the next day. It would be his last shot at finding something.

  Ryley shared an awkward dinner with Vic, then went to bed. Separately, of course. Ryley sighed as he settled back against the pillows, missing the warmth and presence of Vic's body next to his. Hells, he'd take any body next to his, just to not sleep alone.

  He got up the next day and headed out early, determined to find something, determined to make Vic proud. If he could just catch a break—and keep it in his pants long enough to do so—maybe Vic would think well of him and consider taking him back.

  Ryley went straight to the office of the last guy on his list, only to find out he was in meetings again, and would only be taking a break at lunch. With a quick bribe, Ryley got the guy's secretary to admit where the guy went to lunch each day. Ryley found the place and waited. As soon as the guy walked through the door, Ryley approached him.

  “Excuse me, hi,” Ryley said, turning on a beaming smile and holding out his hand. “I'm Ryley Skye with Sturmwyn Insurance on Agoran. I'm trying to track down a missing boy–”

  The guy rolled his eyes. “I'm on my lunch break and I'd rather not be disturbed.” He pushed past Ryley, but Ryley darted after him.

  “Please, sir, if there's anything you might know.” Ryley whipped out Asher Arden's picture. “He went missing here thirteen years ago–”

  “Young man,” the guy barked, holding up a hand. “We've got our own missing people to worry about, alright? Now, ship off and leave me in peace. I'm a very busy man.”

  The guy stormed off, and Ryley lowered his arm with a sigh.

  “Oy,” someone called, “maybe he's a g
host!”

  The whole tavern erupted in laughter.

  Ryley looked around, scowling at them. It was barely midday, and half the people there were clearly drunk, though the man who'd shouted seemed the worst of the lot. Ryley was all for occasional day drinking, but this guy looked like he made a habit of it.

  “Maybe,” the guy said, rising from his chair only to stumble back into it, “he's the one haunting the little island.”

  Ryley frowned. “Little island?”

  More chuckles surrounded him.

  “Uptight foreigner here hasn't heard of our haunted island,” another guy said, making everyone laugh again.

  Uptight? Ryley looked down at himself, then all around, and blushed when he realized he was the only person in the room who was fully dressed. Then the rest of the words struck him. Haunted island?

  Before he could ask, someone tapped him on the shoulder. Ryley sighed and rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood for drunken antics. He turned, ready to tell the guy off, but saw a solemn look on the guy's face.

  “You said you're looking for an Agori kid who went missing thirteen years ago?” the guy asked.

  “Yeah.” Ryley showed him the photo.

  The guy winced. “Yeah, that's him,” he whispered.

  Holy shit. “Where is he? What happened to him?”

  The guy hesitated, looking around from under his eyelashes. “Not here.” He jerked his head toward the door, and Ryley nodded. He followed the guy outside, down the street, and into a small hut. The guy went around pulling the curtains closed, then dragged Ryley into the middle of the room, gesturing at a couple of chairs. Ryley sat and waited as the guy gingerly lowered himself.

  “Are you alright?” Ryley asked.

  The guy grunted. “Doc says I'm dying.” He shrugged.

  “I'm so sorry.”

  He shrugged again. “You've given me a chance to confess my sins before I go.”

  Ryley's eyebrows went up.

  The guy gestured at the picture, and Ryley handed it over, watching as the guy studied it for a long while. “Poor boy,” he finally muttered. “Drowned, out at sea, he did, and it's partially my fault.”

  Ryley's heart sank. So the kid was dead. “How did it happen?” he asked, taking the picture back.

  “I did boat tours back then,” the guy said, groaning as he settled back into his chair. “Some fancy rich guy from Agoran hired me to take him, his family, and some friends of his out on the water to see the whales. Except, when we got back…” The guy shook his head. “The kid wasn't there. Just…gone. I pointed it out to the guy, thinking he'd be frantic that his son was missing, but he just pulled me aside and stuffed a bunch of money into my hands, telling me to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Holy shit,” Ryley breathed. He knew Silas Arden was an asshole by reputation, but he never imagined this.

  The guy nodded. “And I did. I kept silent. I felt so guilty, but I needed that money, you see? My business was struggling, and my mother was ill, and…” He broke off, coughing violently, then shook his head. “Now I've got it,” he said, gesturing at his chest. “I should have come clean years ago. I'd heard rumors that people were looking for the kid, here and there, over the years, but I couldn't bear to admit what I'd done. Now?” He shrugged. “Maybe if I hadn't kept silent, the gods wouldn't be punishing me like this.”

  Ryley opened his mouth to say the gods weren't that directly active in people's lives, then thought better of it. The guy was too old to reconsider such ideas, and Ryley had more important things to worry about.

  “So he just vanished, somewhere, out on the water?”

  The guy nodded.

  Shit. No wonder he'd never been traced. His body was probably nonexistent now, turned to fish food over the years. There might be bones down there, somewhere, but finding them would take more equipment and manpower than Ryley could fathom. Considering how far the Isles could have shifted in the past thirteen years, the bones might even be ground into dust by now.

  “I guess I kept hoping,” the guy suddenly went on, staring down at the floor, though he didn't seem to be really seeing it, “that the kid somehow managed to make it to the island, you know? Like maybe he…hitched a ride with a whale and made it to land.” The guy chuckled. “The stupid things we tell ourselves, eh?”

  Ryley blinked. “The haunted island?”

  “Yeah. Stupid, right? No one could swim that far. And, hells, I don't even know where the kid went missing, exactly. I was too busy navigating, and he was way in the back, so…” He trailed off and shook his head.

  Ryley jumped up. “Thank you for your time.” He bolted out of the hut before the guy could say anything more.

  The chance was almost impossible, but it seemed like one lead that had never been followed, so he wasn't going to let it go until he was sure. What if, by some miracle, someone could swim that far? However far that was. Ryley had no idea.

  But he was going to find out. He was going to go to this haunted island, and have a look for himself.

  * * *

  “NO WAY. Not a fucking chance in all seven hells.”

  Ryley darted after the sailor as he headed down the dock. “Please, I'll pay you–”

  “Look, kid,” the guy said, whirling to face him, “what part of 'haunted' do you not understand? No one goes there. Ever. And with good reason.”

  “Can you get me close?”

  The guy snorted a laugh and spat into the water. “Close enough for you to swim? I doubt it.”

  “Please,” Ryley begged.

  The sailor raised his eyebrows. At least, what would have been his eyebrows, had any hair grown there. “That desperate, eh?”

  Ryley nodded. “If there's any chance the kid is there…” He paused, shaking his head. “His family just want him back home. Or, at least, some answers.” And I can't go back to Vic empty-handed tonight.

  The sailor nodded slowly, then gave Ryley a thorough and blatant once-over. He smirked. “Tell you what: You pay me a hundred in Erosti blues, give me a turn at that sweet ass of yours, and you've got yourself a deal. I'll take you as close to the island as I dare go.”

  Ryley blinked. Was he serious? The guy wanted Ryley to whore himself out for help?

  Of course, the sailor probably wouldn't see it that way. Sex was given so frequently and so freely on the tropical Isle that trading it for a favor probably didn't amount to much. Hells, prostitution was the most respected profession on the Isle. The Erosti Leisure Guild were known all over the world for their highly-trained, extremely talented members, men and women able to provide every sort of bodily pleasure imaginable.

  But Ryley, promiscuous though he may be, was not Erosti. He hadn't been raised to think ill of prostitutes, but he wasn't inclined to be one, either.

  Ryley shook his head. “I'll pay you two hundred,” he said, reaching into his pocket for the Erosti banknotes he had on him, whatever he had left from the tips they'd made at their shows. “I'm sure that'll buy you a session or two with a Guildmate.”

  The sailor smirked at him again. “Damn. Worth a shot.” The guy shrugged and stuck out his hand. Ryley counted out two hundred in blues and handed them over. “Alright, lad, let's be off.”

  Ryley watched the man swing himself up onto a boat, then shook his head and followed. He got settled in while the sailor fired up the engine and pulled away from the docks, heading out to the endless, open sea, the Erosti beach fading away behind them.

  Ryley glanced back at the docks, then reached into his pocket for his phone. He thought about calling Vic to tell him where he'd gone, let him know he was following up on a lead, then decided against it, shoving his phone back out of sight. He wanted to see if anything panned out, first. It would be so much better if he could go back to Vic with a definitive answer rather than just another lead and conjecture.

  They traveled so far that Ryley could no longer see Erostil when he turned around. Nothing but water in any direction that he looked, and now he had no clue w
hich way Erostil even was. He was just about to start counting his breaths when land came into view.

  So there was an island. Ryley shook his head as he stared. He couldn't recall ever hearing about one, let alone seeing one on a map. But there it was, rising up in the distance.

  They were still nowhere near touching land when the boat slowed and came to a stop, the sailor cutting the engine so they floated there in silence.

  “That's as far as I'll go, boy,” the sailor called to him.

  Ryley stared at the man, then looked from him to the island and back. Was he joking? That was as close as Ryley was going to get?

  “Can't we go any farther?” Ryley asked.

  The sailor shook his head. “Not when there's ghosts about. No way. You're out in the deeps if you think I'm going anywhere near that island.”

  Anywhere near? Ryley would hardly call what they were near, but there was nothing he could do. Jumping to his feet, Ryley yanked off his shoes.

  “You're not seriously going to face that, are you, boy?” the sailor asked, his tone full of genuine concern. “There's naught but death there, mark my words.”

  Ryley tucked his socks, money, phone, and keys into his shoes, then stripped off his shirt. There was every chance the guy could rob him, but Ryley couldn't bring himself to care. He was going over to that island, and he was going to get some answers.

  “Wait for me here,” he said, then dove overboard.

  Ryley pulled for the surface and sucked in a breath, surprised at how warm the water was. He got himself oriented and started swimming for land.

  He glanced back over his shoulder and saw the sailor staring after him, a completely dumbfounded look on his face.

  Ryley kept going. He was hardly a swimmer—running was definitely more his thing—but at least he was fit. He'd probably have to rest and float several times before he reached land, but he had to try. He had to keep going.

  When he was halfway to his goal, he heard the boat's engine fire up behind him.