Changing Tides (10 page)

“Sleep. We have time for a nap.”

Orion nodded as Brett wrapped his arms around him. He wiggled, trying to find a comfortable position.

“Stop. Settle down, sweetheart. You’re fine.”

Orion nodded. “Always that good?” The question was asked before it had completely registered as a thought.

“What do you mean? Are blowjobs always that good?”

“Yes.”

Brett rolled him over until they were face to face. “Was that the first one you’ve ever received?”

Squeezing his eyes shut, Orion nodded again.

“Yes, sweetheart, it’s always that good. At least, I’ve never heard of one that isn’t good,” Brett answered, rubbing his knuckles along Orion’s cheek. “If I ask you question, will you answer it honestly?” Brett asked after a few silent moments.

Orion bit his lip and nodded. He’d known this conversation would happen. It was unavoidable after how he reacted earlier and just now. He just hadn’t expected Brett to broach the topic again so soon.

“Before today, have you ever voluntarily given a blowjob?”

That wasn’t the question he’d expected. He still couldn’t bring himself to voice his response. He shook his head.

“Then thank you for trusting me enough to give me that gift,” Brett said softly.

Leaning down, Brett slanted his mouth over Orion’s. Orion opened, allowing Brett to control it and enjoying the sensations and emotions the gentle action brought.

“Thank you,” Brett said again, punctuating each word with a kiss.

“You don’t want—”

Brett placed a finger over Orion’s lips, silencing the question. “As I said earlier, when and if you’re ready for me to know, you can tell me. Until then, I trust that you will tell me when something I do bothers you, hurts you or brings up bad memories. I promise to try my best not to do anything to cause those things to happen. Okay?”

Orion nodded and turned until they were spooned together and he was once again wrapped in Brett’s arms. Falling asleep in another man’s embrace for the first time in his life, Orion was pretty sure he could get used to it.

* * * *

Orion snapped open his eyes. A body pressed against him. Strong arms banded around him. Chest constricting, he pushed against the bonds. Where the hell was he?

The arms relaxed, and soothing words were whispered into his ear. The room slowly came into focus, and he understood. He was with Brett in the room he’d been assigned. They’d fallen asleep after mutual blowjobs. He was sure Brett was disappointed that Orion hadn’t told him the reasons behind his reactions, but he admired the older man’s honor.

Finally, pounding on the exterior door pushed passed his haze of sleep. He pushed against Brett’s arms.

“What is it?” Brett asked, his voice heavy with sleep.

“Do—” Orion started to say. His voice cracked, and the words stuck in his throat.

“Get dressed, and drink some water. I’ll check the door,” Brett replied, releasing him.

Orion pushed himself up and threw off the covers. Beside him, Brett scrambled out of bed and into his pants, grabbing Orion’s gun on the way out the door. Orion pulled on his pants and followed Brett into the other room. Brett’s body blocked his view of whoever was on the other side of the door. Cautiously, he walked over to it. Closing in, he heard Thompson’s voice. Orion touched Brett’s back before reaching his side. Brett turned, nodded and opened the door, letting the security guard in.

“Sir, you’re needed in the briefing room,” Thompson said.

“We’ll be right there,” Brett answered.

“I’ve been asked to wait for you.”

Orion nodded. He turned and headed back to the bedroom. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling on his boots when Brett walked in carrying a bottle of water. Orion smiled and took it from him. Brett pressed a hand to his cheek and knelt down in from of him.

“I want you to have a code, a safe word,” Brett said quietly.

Orion nodded. He liked the idea that he’d have some way to let Brett know when something was wrong. It made going into things better.

“How about if you rub your left wrist or grab it if you get upset or there’s a problem.”

Orion smiled and mouthed, “Yes.” At least, he could do that here. He could read and write here too.

In silence, they finished lacing up their boots and pulled on their shirts. Brett handed him back the weapon then followed him out. He never left Orion’s side. Brett’s fingers snaked under Orion’s shirt, finding skin. Grateful for the contact with his lover, he curled into it.

Orion tapped on Brett on the arm and mouthed, “What was going on?”

Brett frowned and shook his head.

“Can you tell us what’s going on?” Brett asked.

“Don’t know. Just said it was urgent,” Thompson replied.

Orion clenched and unclenched his fists. Something was wrong. He knew it in his gut. They followed Thompson through the tunnels back to the situation room.

“Orion. Lieutenant DeMarco. Thank you for joining us. We’re sorry to disturb you,” Jennifer Carter said, standing up to greet them.

Orion nodded and sat in his chair, scribbling a note to Brett. Aware of others sitting around them, he asked Brett to read it aloud for him.

“Orion wants to know what is going on? What is so urgent?”

“More raids are and will be occurring today,” Paul Moore began. “We’ve also learned that those arrested lasted night have all been found guilty of treason and will be executed tomorrow morning by firing squad.”

Orion felt his stomach drop. Beside him, Brett paled.

“Also, a shoot to kill warrant is being posted for Lieutenant DeMarco for treason and kidnapping.”

Orion nodded. He’d hoped for a different verdict for the man he was coming to care for. There was no way Brett could leave their compound until they overthrew the government. Any security force member could kill the man on sight. If civilians were armed, even one of them could fulfill the warrant. For the first time, Orion was glad for the arms ban.

“I-I didn’t think about it earlier, but if you take the arrest list and look them up by first name dot last name dot base and their ten digit identification number, you can access their files,” Brett said, his voice shaking.

“What kind of files?” Carter asked.

“Everything attached to that name, either sent to or created by,” Brett replied. “If the official report hasn’t gone out yet, you can probably still get them. The longer you wait though, the greater the chance the files will be corrupted.”

“You’re assuming a lot,” Carter said coldly.

Brett turned to face the woman. “I’m assuming that any organization capable of hacking the government communication net multiple times without getting caught can access base information and intelligence records,” Brett said. “Especially as all government entities use the same basic protocol and breakdown structures.”

“Which means the security should all be the same,” Moore said, smiling.

Brett nodded.

“We’ll get started on this.”

Orion watched Brett scribble a number on the corner of the paper. There was sorrow in the blue depths of his eyes. Orion squeezed the chair rail. Had Brett been responsible for any of his people getting captured? For the arrest or discovery and dismantling of any of the other rebel groups that had popped up from time to time over the last few years?

“This is my information,” Brett said, handing the paper over. “Hopefully whatever you find will help show the country and the world that those people will be murdered because of a government’s fear, not for treason. No one on that list, save for me now, is a traitor.”

Paul nodded.

Orion scribbled another note and passed it Brett.

“Orion asks that you access my information someplace in the middle of the group so as not to draw attention to me.”

“Of course, Sir.” The response was clipped, and Orion scowled.

“Brett can be traced to me,” Orion said, his voice cracking. “Avoid anything that connects us with this group.”

Brett handed him a bottle of water. Orion nodded his thanks and drank.

“Okay, that makes sense,” Carter said. “Now, what about the timeframe? We need to move that up.”

Orion handed Brett another note.

“Pull everyone back to their cell or base,” Brett said reading the note. “We need munitions and medical supplies. Next week, we’ll need to hit the bases. Keep targets to government and military personnel and buildings. Try to keep civilians out of it. We’ll need their support to establish a new government.”

“We need more of everything, not just those,” an older man said from the far end of the table.

Orion nodded. He recognized the man as William Rodgers, a friend of his parents and one of the men who had started an original incarnation of the Citizens for a Free Aelland. Orion scribbled another note for Brett to read.

“Each cell will need to get weapons of their own. Each region will be responsible for the base or bases in their area. We will take the base here then move to the capitol,” Brett read. He laid the paper on the table and rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t know the numbers in this group, and I don’t want to, but is it possible to pull individual cells toward the capitol when we’re ready to hit it?”

“That could work,” Rodgers said, folding his hands on the table. “Unless they’re engaged in fighting in their own areas.”

Orion nodded. He was proud of Brett’s suggestion and his willingness to help. Orion still read the uncertainty and pain in Brett’s eyes.

“We need to formulate battle plans and increase security,” Carter said, retrieving several tubes of paper and placing them on the table.

Orion stood as the maps were unrolled and covered the table. His heart ached because of the coming war, for the innocent lives that would be lost. He prayed his people would succeed and the battle would be worth the price they paid.

Chapter Seven

Brett sat at the table in his and Orion’s quarters staring at the disc in his hands. Paul Moore, head of communications, had brought it over thirty minutes ago. Gone was the look of mistrust that had inhabited the other man’s eyes every time that Brett had looked at him for the last four days. It had been replaced by something Brett couldn’t name. The older man had seemed sad, almost reluctant to give Brett the disc.

Brett bit his lip. He held in his hands the answer to the question that had plagued him for almost a year and a half.

A soft knock on the door drew his attention. Leaving the disc on the table, he answered the door, hoping Orion stayed asleep a little while longer. The younger man had been up most of the night, talking with people, answering questions and helping wherever needed. Brett had returned to their room at two-thirty that morning and had been asleep when Orion had finally come to bed.

“I was asked to give this to you,” Jackson said quietly.

“Thank you.” Brett nodded, took the portable computer from him and stepped back. He watched the other man disappear down the corridor before closing and locking the door.

Setting the computer on the table, Brett’s palms began to sweat. His stomach knotted. His hearted pounded in his chest. He’d asked for this. Wanted this. Needed this.

Brett took in a deep breath then let it out slowly, pushing a hand through his hair. Did he have the strength to watch? To know the truth? Clenching and unclenching his fists, he plugged the machine into the outlet and turned it on.

He stared at the disc for another five minutes before sliding it into the player. Folding his hands together, he waited for the video to play. The camera zoomed in on a vaguely familiar cement wall then back out again. The picture blurred slightly before coming into focus then panning over to an empty chair. He’d suspected from the beginning that the original video he’d been shown had been edited or altered in some way. It was obvious now that at least some of it had come from this footage.

Brett squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. When he did, Taren sat naked in the chair. Bruises and dried blood covered his body. Tears streamed down Brett’s face unchecked as he watched uniformed men beat and torture his lover. Taren was moved from the chair to the wall then to a metal rack. Horrified, Brett forced himself to continue watching so he’d know every terrible second of Taren’s last moments.

Anger at the brutality edged its way past the sorrow and shock. One of Taren’s attackers turned to face the camera. Brett paused the video and replayed it. Security forces. The man’s name wasn’t completely visible, but Brett recognized the badge on the man’s uniform. It matched the ones he’d left behind, the ones on his own shirts.

Intelligence.

Somebody in his field had done this.
But why
? Why Taren? Why a man who’d wanted to practice medicine and help people? Letting the video play, Brett prayed to whatever god there was that there were answers somewhere on the video.

Without warning, the uniform men stopped and moved to the sides. Taren hung limply against a metal rack, spread eagle and bound in multiple locations. Brett’s stomach rolled. Taren looked up, eyes swollen, blood pouring from countless wounds. Brett swallowed. He would kill someone for this.

“Colonel D-DeMarco. W-why are you doing this? I-I love y-your son,” Taren stammered.

Brett’s heart stopped. He stared open mouthed as the newcomer stepped in front of the camera, turned, tossed his uniform shirt to someone off screen then turned back to face Taren.

“Because you don’t do as you’re told—as
we
tell you.” Colonel DeMarco uncoiled a whip and snapped his wrist. The flash of leather danced through the air leaving a new line of blood painting Taren’s chest. His lover screamed. Brett’s heart joined in. “As
I
told you. Because you aren’t good enough for Brett.” Another stripe of blood appeared.

Taren screamed again. His voice cracked and shook when he spoke. “I’ll leave him. I’ll let Brett go,” Taren pleaded. “You don’t have to do this.”

“Maybe, but with you gone, he’ll be easier to control.”

Another flick of his father’s wrist. More blood. More screams.