Desmoterion, page 32
Girish chuckled and pushed Trent to the side. He opened the door, frowning at the woman standing in front of him. “Um, hello?”
Trent peered around Girish. “What do you want?”
The younger woman, who couldn’t be more than twenty at most, flushed. “Sorry, I was just curious, that’s all. To be honest, this house has been empty for years, and my mom used to clean it for the previous owner. I think he died or something.”
Trent snorted, knowing full well how the man died and was the direct cause of it. “And?”
The woman swallowed hard at Trent’s penetrating stare. “Well, I was wondering if you needed help with the upkeep. I’m an excellent cook, and any excuse to get out of the family house is good.”
Girish stared at the woman. “You’re offering to be a maid?”
“Maid is too formal; how about a housekeeper? I can’t imagine it’s spotless inside this house. All that dust and mold and stuff.”
Girish glanced over at Trent, expecting to see Trent a breath away from blowing his cool. Instead, he saw an amused expression covering Trent’s face.
Trent laughed at the woman. “Trust me, you don’t want to work for me. I’m too much of a perfectionist to leave my house to someone else to take care of. I can manage it myself, thanks.”
He was about to close the door when the girl stepped in the way. “A large house like this? I doubt it. Plus, which one of you can bake Karn pies?”
Girish’s stomach rumbled at the mention of home-cooked food.
Trent glared at him. “You’re not helping.”
“I haven’t eaten a home-cooked meal since I was a teenager. It’s not my fault it sounds good.”
The woman beamed. “See? I can do that and more. I live close by, so I’d only be here for a few hours and then leave.”
Trent rubbed at his beard. “Fine, but you get a week’s trial period. If you mess up, then you go away and never come back.”
The woman grinned and held out her hand to shake. “Deal.”
Trent looked over at Girish and groaned, “I’m going to regret this, aren’t I?”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
After the woman, who introduced herself as Katya, left, Trent, and Girish went inside the house ready to explore.
Girish flicked one of the light switches, expecting it to be dead, but a dim light came from the fixture. “You still have power?”
“Yeah, that’s the only thing I could keep going in here.” He stopped to wrinkle his nose. “Though before I worry about anything else, I need a shower. I smell like sweat and dried blood.”
Girish dropped the duffel on the ground. “Yeah, you are pretty ripe, to be honest.”
“Look who’s talking, Kannan. You smell like a dog’s ass.”
Girish gaped at the slight. “What did you say, Dupont?”
Trent chuckled, making his way upstairs. “Are you losing your hearing as well?”
“Come back here and say that to my face.”
Trent stood at the top of the stairs. “Come up here and make me.”
Girish moved up the stairs to stand in front of Trent. “I seemed to remember that you owe me something for all this.”
Trent’s eyebrow rose. “Oh? And what might you want from me?”
Girish grinned and leaned in closer to Trent, brushing against his chest. “I get a shot at beating you. Don’t forget that it’s still in my mind.”
“I wouldn’t dream of forgetting it.” Trent moved in to hover over Girish’s lips. “But at least wait until I’m healed, and Mike shows up to referee it. That way, he can kick both of our asses for cheating.”
“Wait, Mike is heading for here? How the hell did he get out?”
Trent laughed and moved away from Girish. “That’s the second plan, and I can’t execute it until I charge the device. First is shower time. Wanna join me, Kannan?”
Girish backed away from Trent, who wore a devious grin. “I’ll pass. Is there just one bathroom?”
“No. I don’t know. You know what, I’ve not been here before.” He grinned. “There are a few bathrooms, I believe, just hunt for them. You might even find towels, but I can’t promise much. We’ll have to pick some stuff up later or make our newest recruit do it for us. She seems eager to help.”
“I don’t know if I trust her all that much.” Girish frowned as Trent walked away. “I mean, how did she even know we were here?”
“The man from before. He probably told the whole town already. At least my alibi is solid for this town since I own this house.”
* * *
As Trent went for the master bedroom, Girish claimed the bedroom next door. He eyed the dust-covered blanket on top of the bed with disgust. With one swoop, he fished off the upper blankets and piled them on the floor, the lower sheets wre white cotton and looked spotlessly clean.
He rummaged through closets. Despite most things being covered in a thick layer of dust, Girish managed to find some clean towels buried in the back of a linen closet along with unopened packets of soap. He left the top towel in place and dug some out from lower down the pile.
After all he'd been through, showering in a dusty bathroom didn't bother Girish. The water was warm, he had privacy, and it was unlikely anyone would barge in and attack him. And on top of all that he had a soft bed to sleep in. Life could hardly get any better.
As he showered, he thought back to when he was supposed to kill Trent; it already seemed like a lifetime ago. A lot had happened since, and everything had changed on that one night. It had changed for the better. He was nolonger a prisoner of a shady mysterious organization. He didn’t have to kill random people or risk being killed.
At least he had his freedom event if he didn’t know much about where the fuck he was or what he’d do next. There didn’t seem any urgency for him to sort out his life though, as it seemed that Trent had taken care of every.
All it needed was a decent meal, and it seemed like that girl who banged on the door might help them with that.
Maybe his life was taking a turn for the better in a strange country where he didn't know the language, the customs, or the geography, but at least he had Trent with him.
Trent. Girish sighed when his thoughts settled on the man who’d saved him from Desmoterion.
Recent days had been focused on survival, getting to the destination, and accomplishing the mission according to Trent's plan, and God only knows what was the next stage in this plan.
Girish slowly rubbed the soapy sudsy lather over his body, enjoying the first taste of privacy since before he'd ever been sentenced to prison.
He couldn't help imagining Trent's hands on him and instead of his own; Trent's hands gliding through the suds as it lubricated the movement over his stomach and up over his pectorals, over his shoulders, and around his neck.
Girish rubbed his neck and imagined it was Trent rubbing the ache and stress away; imagined it was Trent's warm face and mouth pressed against him.
Girish rubbed his face with the soapy water and gently kissed his own fingers while wondering what it might be like to kiss Trent. Girish hadn’t had much experience in kissing and he’d never kissed a guy. Would the beard feel sexy? Two of his fingers entered his mouth. Would Trent dominate a kiss in the same way that he dominated everything? Girish's fingers probed his mouth as he imagined Trent might do.
Of course, Girish had kissed girls before – two of them. But he hadn’t gone further than kissing. He had so little experience and technically he was still a virgin if being sexually assaulted didn’t count as sex.
He sucked on his fingers like he’d suck on Trent’s cock and moved his other hand down towards his crotch, where it wrapped around his stiffening rod. He’d not done this in the shower since before his arrest and that was years ago. Prison had robbed him of a decent wank for years, it had robbed him of a sex life and so much more.
It was safe.
He was safe.
He was thinking about Trent, an older man who was wise, and strong. An alien with superhuman senses and glassy, impossible-to-read eyes that he kept hidden from everyone except Girish.
Trent who sent Girish’s dick so hard.
Did Trent think about him in the same sort of way? Something had changed between then since the escape. Trent smiled more and didn’t hide his silver eyes behind dark shades when they were alone.
Did Trent think about the blow job? Doing it again. Returning the favor.
Girish wiped his face, trying to scrub the thoughts away. The men were just frustrated after years of imprisonment. That was all. That explained the blow job. And Girish had only fancied girls before, he should want a woman now. If a woman came into his life, that would be great, but he couldn’t picture a woman up close and naked with him, no matter how hard he tried.
He only wanted to picture Trent, not some other person. He saw Trent winking, flirting, grinning while his hands moved faster and his touches became firmer and more forceful in a way that was simply too perfect.
He slumped against the wall as the orgasm, followed by weakness, and fatigue caught up with him in quick succession. Elated arousal gave way to a sense of depression and guilt. Girish shouldn't allow Trent's teasing to have that kind of effect on his body and he shouldn't fantasize about Trent like that.
* * *
Too many questions rolled through Girish’s head that he laid back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. Were they genuinely safe now? What was this second plan Trent hinted at? Would it mean that others would join them in this massive house?
The white paint had cracked around the light fixture above his head. The whole place looked like it was about to implode around them, but somehow, the house had remained standing long enough for them to arrive. And given its age, it would probably be still standing in a hundred years time.
Like Trent, he’d grown up poor as well. Their old, rundown house wasn’t fit for one person, let alone two. This was at least big enough for an extensive family.
Trent’s face appeared overhead. “You think too much, Kannan.”
“So I’ve been told.” Girish looked into Trent’s shiny alien eyes. “And maybe you don’t think enough.”
Trent laughed. “If only then my life would be less of a mess. My brain is always thinking, and when it’s not, then I get to experience the disarming voices that make me fall to my knees. At least that hasn’t happened lately. No time to rest is one good thing about being shot, tracked like dogs, and sleeping maybe a few hours at a time.”
Girish sat up. “So what now? This place is a dump, and it’s making me crazy already.”
“Then find a broom or mop and get to work. I won’t stop you. In fact, that was the plan all along. That once everyone was here, we’d fix this house and live in it.”
Girish wrinkled his nose.
Trent patted him on the shoulder. “Or just let our housekeeper handle it. Though it is going to take her longer than a week, and hopefully, she’ll tire of us before that.”
“If you don’t like her, then why did you agree for her to help?”
“I have nothing specific against her, just that I don’t know her motives. As you know, I’m paranoid and a perfectionist, so I like things to go a certain way. Besides, once she catches Mike and Emyr doing it on the couch, she’ll run for the hills.”
Girish’s eyebrows rose.
“They’ve been dancing around each other for years. It’s just a matter of time before they’re fucking everywhere. It’s not like I care; it means a free show for me.”
Girish got up and opened the closet to hunt for clothes. “I didn’t need to hear that.”
“Or she’ll find us fucking; either way, once she sees a couple of guys together, it will be enough for her.”
Girish turned back. “In your dreams, Dupont.”
Trent retreated to the doorway, but before leaving, he winked at Girish. “For now, it is.”
* * *
Trent was fiddling with something when Girish found him downstairs.
“What’s that?”
Trent turned and laughed at the gaudy flower print shirt Girish was wearing. “Where did you find that awful thing?”
“Hey, I thought it looked happy and we could use something uplifting.”
“You sure about that?”
Girish flushed. “It’s not like I have a change of clothes on me. It was hanging up in the closet, so I put it on.”
“Those appear to be a bit small for you.” Trent pointed to Girish’s jeans. “But I approve of the snug figure-hugging look on you. Not everyone could carry it off.”
“Thanks! I didn’t want to explore every closet in search of clothes. It was enough that I found towels. So these’ll do for now.”
“Hey, you didn’t answer my question from before?”
“Which one would that be?”
Girish pointed at the device in Trent’s hand. “What’s that?”
“It’s a cell phone.” Trent flipped open the case.
Girish backed away from Trent. “Are you fucking crazy? One call on that and they’ll trace us here.”
“Nah.” Trent laughed. “What makes you think I’ll call someone with it?”
“But it’s a cell phone. What else would you do with it?”
Trent fiddled with the buttons. “Well, I plan on sending a text with it. I only need one to set Plan B into motion, assuming they’re all still alive after the debacle. I hope so because Emyr was a superb cook, from what Arden said, and we’d be stuck with Miss Overeager.”
Girish shook his head. “They can trace texts. I don’t like this, Trent.”
“That doesn’t matter to me at the moment. This has been the plan since Day One, and I think I’ve got everything covered. It’s not like I’m sending the text to Kipper for everyone to see; give me a little credit for that.”
Girish frowned. “Then who’s it going to?”
Trent smiled and hit the send button.
* * *
Mike marched into Emyr’s domain to stand beside the front table. He was about to call out when Emyr emerged from the back area with several guns. “Going somewhere?”
Emyr rolled his eyes at Mike. “I’m cleaning them, like usual.”
“But we haven’t had any recent missions. Why bother?”
“It’s my job, and it’s not like I have a lot to do at the moment. What with the whole Trent-is-missing thing that’s happening. Who knew one man could annihilate thirty-five operatives? Trent’s a one-man wrecking crew.”
Mike’s jaw tightened. “Speaking of Trent, any news?”
“Not a thing so far. I can’t imagine it would take that long to get to the safe house, assuming he’s still alive. From what I’ve heard from Kipper, border guards have reported killing multiple people attempting to cross this month. Maybe they were talking about the operatives tasked with taking out Trent, but there’s no way to know unless it comes through.”
“So we’re just biding our time again. I’m tired of waiting.”
Emyr patted Mike on the shoulder. “Poor Mike, whatever will he do?”
Mike started to walk away, grumbling about training idiot recruits when he heard something buzz. He stopped short and turned.
By the wide-eyed stare on Emyr’s face, he’d heard it too. Emyr hurried into the back room to dig into one of the bins, and Mike followed him and joined him, looking down into the dark bin.
Emyr pulled the phone just into their view, and they both marveled at the three dots on the screen.
“We need to confer with Kipper about this. I can’t just spring it on him without him knowing in advance.”
Mike moved out of the area. “I’ll do it. You’re too obvious.”
* * *
Mike went into the communications area and frowned.
Ward noticed him while turning to talk to Delgado. “Something I can help you with, sir?”
“I’m looking for Kipper. Is he on a break?”
Ward motioned to the second floor. “He’s meeting with the leader. Not sure how long it’ll take as he’s already been gone an hour.”
“Okay, I’ll check back later,” said Mike, turning around to leave.
“Mike?”
Mike stopped short at Kipper appearing in front of him. “Oh, there you are. Ward said you’d be busy with our leader.”
“That’s an understatement. After they offed Stevenson for his major fuck up, now it’s all on me to do the planning, set up, and execution of missions. Like I need more work. Hopefully, they can find someone to replace him in your current batch of recruits.”
“Not likely.” Mike shook his head. “Rowland is the only one I’d think to have a decent shot. The rest are more of the follow-the-leader types.”
“Damn, we’re down a lot of operatives.” Kipper went back to looking at the monitors.
Mike chose his words carefully. He didn’t want to alert their leader, while letting Kipper know it was time. “Actually I wanted to talk to you about something.”
“Sure you do.” Kipper scoffed. “I’m busy Mike, come back later.”
“It’s about one of Emyr’s computers. It keeps flashing three dots.”
Mike was thankful Kipper’s team wasn’t looking directly at their boss because his whole body froze in place. They’d know something was up with that kind of reaction and ask things Kipper didn’t want to answer.
Kipper turned around with wide eyes. “Three dots?”
“Yes, that’s what he told me. He’s busy cleaning gear, or he’d have come himself. Any ideas on how to fix it?”
Kipper swallowed hard. “I see. Do you know when it started?”
“About five minutes ago. I just happened to be there when it occurred. I figured you’d be able to figure out what was wrong with it.”
Kipper thought for a moment and then responded, “Tell Emyr to shut down his computer and then let it sit offline for a few minutes. Then turn it back on and see if that fixes it. If not, come back here in twenty minutes, and I’ll take a look at it.”
“I’ll tell him. Thanks for your help.” Mike smiled and walked away, knowing it would be over soon.
* * *
Emyr glanced up when Mike arrived at his worktable. “Where’s Kipper?”
