Chapter 13
Gunner
Gunner wondered how many times he could go from perfectly fine to piss-your-pants terrified before his mind unspooled.
“What’s happening?”
Sugar paused at the intercom. “Update, please.”
“Meridian hacked us. Again,” Seven yelled back. Hearing the name made Gunner shudder. “And yes, I know the alarm is stuck.”
“Did you forget the override switch? It’s a big red button.” Sugar ticked off 1-2-3 on his fingers. The wailing ceased. “You’re welcome.”
“Fuck you very much, Sugar. Now get in here!”
Jelly-legged, Gunner braced against the wall. “Does Meridian do this often?”
“Yes. But while we’re onboard, he can’t touch us.” Sugar pointed left. “This hallway leads to the elevator.”
Distracted by the view, Gunner could barely keep up. Sugar’s cropped jacket did little to hide the daring slit in his trousers, which extended past his tailbone. With every step, the fabric parted to offer a teasing glimpse of his perfect, bare ass.
Tailored by Caligula? And how.
Sugar slowed to let Gunner catch up. “We were excited when you reopened the earth gate. The boys and I are addicted to shopping in New York and Milan.”
Take away the high heels, and Sugar was roughly 63 inches of pure badassery.
Gazing into his eyes was like staring into the glory hole of a glass blower’s furnace: intense, molten, and if you looked too close, you’d probably lose your soul.
But add another seven men who were almost identical in looks, wardrobe, and attitude? Nuclear-level chaos.
“How do you guys manage to shop on Earth without causing a riot? You all look like demi-gods, and Snake doesn’t exactly blend in.”
“When I say ‘shop,’ I mean break in after hours and pillage to our heart’s content.” He stepped into the elevator and pressed the up button. “Meridian’s probably locked it down by now, but one can dream.”
The elevator ascended with a lurch. “Is Meridian a technophile or something?”
“The only thing he’s good at is pestering Horatio.” Sugar’s side-eye was lethal. “I don’t mean to pry, but why him?”
“You don’t like Horatio? Everybody—” Gunner shut his mouth when he remembered the ‘I love you, Horatio’, thing.
“I like you.” Sugar adjusted a lock of his hair. “And I loved making you come.”
Gunner couldn’t stop looking at Sugar’s pretty dick, and his Prince Albert piercing didn’t help. He wondered what the thick hoop would feel like against his tongue.
“Like the view?”
“God yes, I mean, sorry. Staring is rude.”
“You’re wondering why we wear crotchless suits.” He chuckled. “The short answer is, we love driving men wild.”
“It’s working. Big time.”
“Just so you know, we zip up when out in public.”
Angsty and overheated, Gunner stared at the sliver of light between the elevator doors and remembered leaning against them—Horatio’s fingers in his hair, lips hot and distracting.
Ding.
He jumped as the crack widened in a blink. “The doors are speedy, but the ride is so freaking slow.”
“Because The Frances belongs to Snake, and she doesn’t want to obey anyone but him.”
This time, he didn’t let Sugar’s butt distract him. But once they passed through the cockpit’s steel door, Gunner was dazzled by something else: technology. He’d never seen so much high-end equipment. This was the control room of a Lear jet, not a pirate ship.
“There you guys are!” Seven spun in his leather captain’s chair, looking like he stepped out of a fashion magazine and not a nine-man shower orgy.
He could have been Sugar’s twin, but his hair was longer and his makeup more subtle.
A flaming heart tattoo stretched across the front of his neck, giving him a bad-boy edge.
“Look.” Seven tapped the monitor. “He’s growing more unhinged by the day.”
The screen flickered between grainy surveillance footage of The Frances and Meridian’s masked face.
“You can’t run forever, Guitar Slayer. I’ll get you, and your little twink, too.”
The throaty voiceover crawled along Gunner’s spine. He sank into the chair beside Seven and gripped the armrests.
“Where’s Snake?” Sugar asked.
“I tossed him out so I could think.” Seven drummed his fingers on the dash. “How the fuck did Meridian get footage of the ship? He doesn’t know Environ exists. Right?”
“Wait.” Sugar peered closer. “See the fir trees in the background? Environ only has tropical vegetation. This is an old clip. He changed the timestamp.”
“He’s taunting us,” Seven said.
Eyes glued to the horror onscreen, Gunner fell into a dark pit where Meridian waited, blood-stained teeth ready to devour.
“Gunner?” Sugar’s voice chased away the boogeyman. “Seven, shut it off. He met that freak in real life today.”
“Why is the room shaking?”
But it wasn’t the room. It was him.
Sugar massaged his wrists while Seven tipped a shot of liquid between his lips. The familiar quenching of Stiles’s special brew. He asked for another, and seconds later, euphoria made him its bitch.
“Tech covered in more tech covered in wow.” Gunner ran a finger over the steering wheel. “Will you teach me how to drive the ship, Seven?”
“I’ll let you play with all my toys.”
“Seven.” Sugar’s eye roll was audible.
“I meant the ship’s toys, Sugar. If you were a computer nerd like us, you’d get it.”
“I appreciate complex technology. I just don’t want to rub my dick all over it.” Sugar twirled one of Gunner’s new braids. “Come on, let’s get you some food.”
The kitchen was extravagant. Exotic wood cabinets, black granite counters, and a vast island lined with bar stools. Beyond lay an enormous living room, stuffed with cozy seating. Gunner did a double take at a painting he thought might be a genuine Picasso.
“This place is more ‘fancy urban apartment’ than ‘ship’.”
“Thank you. Suki and I do most of the decorating.”
Horatio stood at the counter, making sandwiches.
No leather, just gray athletic pants that hugged his ass like a second skin, and a blue tank so tight it practically flexed.
His damp hair spilled down his back in glossy waves, each curl ending in a perfect C.
Gunner imagined winding one of those Cs around his finger and pulling it, just enough to tip Horatio’s head back so he could move in for slow, seductive kiss.
“Does Stiles know you’re in his kitchen?” Sugar asked.
“Not unless you tell him. Where’s Gunner?”
“Right next to me.”
Horatio spun around, still holding a butter knife with a glob of mayo hanging from the blade. Gunner’s skin prickled under the sweep of azure eyes that traced him from bottom to top.
A slow smile curled across Horatio’s face, and the prickles turned to heat.
“Hello, hottie!” Horatio tilted his head. “You look taller.”
“It’s called confidence,” Sugar said.
“Mmm, those colors. You made him look like an actual cupcake.”
“That was my end game. Dress him to resemble your favorite dessert.”
“I can hear you roll your eyes.” Horatio set a plated sandwich and a bottle of beer on the island and motioned for Gunner to sit. “Pretty soon, I’ll be able to read your mind.”
“If you could read it now, you’d be running.”
Sugar’s tone chilled Gunner to the core. He sat and tipped the beer bottle to his lips.
“Why are your hands shaking, Gun?”
“A certain video from a certain megalomaniac.” Sugar sat next to Gunner and rubbed his back. “Think of the ship as an impenetrable fortress.”
Being fussed over was nice. Sugar’s comforting hand. Horatio’s affectionate tone as he encouraged Gunner to eat. He took a bite of his sandwich and groaned.
“Pretty great, huh? Food tastes better on the other side of the portal.” Horatio poured a glass of wine and passed it to Sugar, who shot him a glare instead of a thank you.
“I tried Earth food once. Garbage.” Sugar knocked it back and slid the empty glass back to Horatio. “You’re back.”
“I’m back.”
“For how long this time?”
Horatio refilled the wine. “Depends.” He held the glass toward Sugar, then yanked it back. “We need to talk.”
Horatio stared. Sugar glared. Gunner braced himself for a duel—pistols at dawn, or maybe an old-fashioned knife fight. He wondered if Horatio planned to bring up what Snake muttered in his sleep and hoped for a place to hide if he did.
“I never thanked you for knocking Snake out of berserker mode.” Sugar crossed one leg over the other—a casual gesture on anyone else. “Thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. That’s what friends do.” Horatio surrendered the wine.
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll explain, but first…” Horatio shoved the entire block of knives into the fridge. “Snake told me about what he said to you in bed.”
Sugar stared into his glass. “I don’t want to talk about this right now.”
“I need you to know—”
“That you have a death wish?” Sugar’s eyes were slits.
Horatio put up his hands. “Let me say one thing.”
“Make it quick.”
“Snake and I are not in love. We’re friends.”
“Friends who fuck almost on the daily.”
“And do I keep that a secret from you? No. I don’t. You’re my friend, too.”
Sugar rose up taller. “You actually think we’re friends?”
“Yes, I consider you a friend. I don’t know what you consider me—a joke, a threat, a pain in the ass.
But two years ago, you guys saved my life, and if you think I’m going to repay that by ruining yours, you’re dead wrong.
” Horatio emptied half his beer in one chug.
“For the record, Snake doesn’t look at me or anyone else the way he looks at you. ”
Sugar smirked. “And how does he look at me?”
“The same way Stiles looks at his dildo collection, like an obsessed lunatic who can’t wait to stuff you up his ass.”
Gunner laughed first, and then Sugar joined. Soon, they clung to each other, shrieking with laughter until tears rolled down their faces.
“You always make me laugh, Slayer.”
“That’s my consolation prize, I guess.”
A muffled cry stole the spotlight.
“Help, Sugar, I’m in a predicament.” Snake shuffled in, dragging a tangled mess of wet hair behind.
“What did you do? It took me four hours to braid that!” Sugar shrieked.
“My head hurt.” He took a seat at the counter.