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sounds of my boots and spat them back at me.
    The elevator whizzed from the lobby to fifty-five in the blink of an eye, depositing me onto a plush carpet that hushed my footsteps. I didn’t have far to go; the fifty-fifth belonged solely to Cutler. I smelled like smoke, tasted blood in my mouth, and still heard the groans from outside, embedded in my think tank.
    Walking into the well-appointed office, I came face-to-face with…Blondie.
    Jesus Christ.
    This was an oh-shit moment of the highest magnitude, and I almost gagged on the hunky-dory I’d told Liz earlier about this meeting.
    Except this version of Blondie didn’t resemble a snitch. Not at all. His sleepy blue eyes were sharp. Angular jaw clean of sun-hued stubble. His hair was pulled back, revealing a little bit of hotness I’d missed before. Buzzed with a number-two razor guard, his hair was close on the sides of his head in two wide swaths, with that long, grade-A Mohawk pulled back in a ponytail. Add the double-helix piercing through the cartilage of his ear and he was straight-up sex, modeling a suit that probably cost as much as filling my tank for five months.
    Shock? More like shell shock at this point. Blondie knew I was gay, yet he was a Company exec or else he wouldn’t be here. I was his butt boy in the worst possible way.
    When I squinted at him, he gave nothing up. Neither did I. I had shit on this newly minted man too.
    Double fucking jeopardy, jackass.

Chapter Three
    M y nerves steely as ever, I turned to CEO Cutler. Last time I’d seen him, he hadn’t been all that pleased with my performance, but apart from hanging any old culprit for a crime not committed, there wasn’t a whole hell of a lot I could have done.
    And now this.
    Cutler had the appearance of a bald eagle from his white crested hair to his regal nose and strong, streamlined torso. He exemplified the same predatory aura too, at least when he was dressed in more than a towel. The birds were extinct now, but I’d seen one a long time ago back in Epsilon. My pop had pointed it out, explaining the majestic American symbolism of the eagle.
    Cutler missed the majesty part by the cruel curl of his lips.
    Making with the howdy-do, he scrutinized the tension televised between me and Blondie. “Commander Cannon, welcome.”
    I managed some sort of response.
    “This is Mr. Rice. Head of technological acquisitions.”
    Mr. Rice. The hacker with the all-the-best gen. The hunk who’d sucked my cock.
    Major Head Fuck, more like.
    I figured I had a couple minutes’ reprieve before being fisticuffed, face-punched, and hauled over to the Tribunal, so I put on the dog-and-pony show.
    Taking a seat, Blondie Rice watched the proceedings with as much interest as choosing a new tie from a rack of hundreds.
    “We’re under attack.”
    “Yes, sir.” State the obvious, why don’t you? “What do they want?”
    “Freedom, I presume.” Cutler sneered.
    Can’t allow that, can we?
    He clasped his hands behind his back. “That’s neither here nor there. The ingrates will be dealt with. You’ve got something else to worry about, Commander. Assuming you’re ready to prove yourself after the last cock-up?”
    From the cushy lounge, Blondie’s eyebrow rose.
    Cock-up. I’ll give him one if he doesn’t watch it.
    “At your service, sir.”
    “You know the strategy, then.”
    “Top Corps to escort Company execs to the Outpost.”
    “Exactly.” Cutler took a seat, leaving me standing. I widened my stance and considered discreetly fingering my guns off safety, just in case.
    “You are charged with the safety of Mr. Rice. Escort him to the Outpost and I’ll wipe the gigs off your record. Shouldn’t take more than four weeks to reach it. You can keep your head on straight that long, can’t you?”
    Which one?
    “Yes, sir.”
    He went on about the Outpost, aka the Brier, the legendary place that didn’t exist. Unless you were top-level clearance, apparently. All I could make out through the