Without a Paddle

By Robin H. Pine

In the near future, Zach works as an advocate for an influential family in the Central Territories. His job is to keep his clients out of jail, but they make it hard for him if they can't keep their mouths shut. He manages to convince his clients not to talk, but as he's getting ready to leave the penal satellite, an escaping prisoner takes him hostage. To his surprise, Zach recognizes the man.

Aron has to consider his next step carefully and quickly. He has to decide if he wants to go for the obvious and predictable, leave the penal satellite as everyone expects him to, or the unexpected but dangerous, stay and wait out the search team. But a familiar face from his days at the Academy makes his choice for him and he decides he's going to take a hostage.

There are a lot of obstacles between Aron and Zach, from Zach's loneliness but fear of commitment to Aron's lack of communication. And if that wasn't enough, their behavior is unfamiliar and they realize they might not be the same people they were in the Academy. Why isn't Zach working for the Marshal's Office as his moral code seemed to dictate? Is Aron more than an escaped prisoner? Will they manage to find a way to find those answers without also destroying what they've got?

• Language: English
• Publisher: JMS Books LLC
• Release date: Jul 18, 2020
• ISBN: 9781646564934

Book preview

5

Chapter 1

With a sigh, Zach rubs his forehead. Today has been a good day, all told, but tiring. He managed to convince his client that keeping his mouth shut is vital. It shouldn’t be up for discussion, it should be something that all mob members knew, and yet, every single time they were caught, they started singing. They did because they were bored, or proud, or provoked, or insecure, or a thousand other reasons. And Zach could—somewhat—understand that, in as much as he understood that people needed to be stupid from time to time, but he also knows that the behavior isn’t helpful and it must stop.

Zach lifts his head and starts the ship, getting ready to leave the penal satellite. Three switches and a communication later he’s all set. He inputs the coordinates for his home next and that’s it. Zach can finally relax.

Something pings.

Zach slowly closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He didn’t hear anything. All is good.

A mat skitters on the floor, clearly pushed by somebody, and comes to a stop by his chair.

You picked the wrong ship, Zach says without turning or even opening his eyes.

Hmm, an amused voice muses. Why is that?

Zach turns because he wants to see the fucker’s face fall. The man deserves it for being an asshole and Zach deserves it for putting up with him. Win-win.

Only, when Zach turns, something nudges at him from his memories. Aaron? The person he met like, twice, at the Academy and left an impression? That Aaron? Can it really be him?

The man tilts his head, his eyes suddenly flaring to life. It transforms him from an utterly forgettable person into whoever lived in Zach’s mind for more than twenty years. Aron.

Right. His name is slightly different, it’s…Just an A right? Zach asks.

Face virtually exploding into a beaming smile that positively transforms his features, Aron says, Got me in one. He bites his lip and his brown eyes get shrewd and even more intense although it didn’t seem possible. You have the advantage. I’m afraid I do—ah! Zachariah Miller.

Zach’s lips twitch into a smile, which Aron returns even though he looks confused for a few seconds. He even goes so far as to look at the door he came through. His eyes, however, look bright with calculations.

The last place I thought I’d find you again is a mob advocate’s ship, Aron says, eyes twinkling. You’re borrowing it?

No, Zach chuckles, even though he feels his ears heat. His life is hard to explain. No, I’m not.

Lost then?

I’m working for the Wiater family, Zach says simply, chin maybe higher than strictly necessary.

You are?! Aron says and gestures questioningly toward the passenger seat. He waits for Zach’s nod before approaching it and taking a seat, which is something that Zach appreciates. "The world is changing."

Not really, Zach answers with a tight smile. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But it shows me you knew exactly what ship you chose, so congratulations on that.

Thank you, I try. Aron leaves the chair for a short bow. I guess you’re not that much into rules anymore?

Zach is and he isn’t. Guess again. He sighs. We don’t have time for storytelling. I’ve got two hours until I get home and you—. Wait. Why are you on my ship?

It’s a pretty ship, Aron says easily.

It’s not. Mm-hmm. It’s an expensive ship.

Listen, Aron says, I’m sorry for pushing on. It’s clear you don’t want to talk about it, but I just…it’s surprising. Weren’t you Assistant Marshal? That’s the opposite side of the table, Zachariah.

Zach wants to roll his eyes. His question has been deftly deflected, the subject he didn’t want to talk about was being talked about under the pretense of apologizing for it, and Zach had forgotten Aron’s penchant for calling him by his full name. Aron is exactly as Zach remembers him.

You didn’t answer my question.

Aron doesn’t blink. I did.

And you can call me Zach, you know?

May I call you Zachariah? Aron parries. I feel like that is the question. You look like a Zachariah.

Old? Zach asks. There’s a smile that wants to form but Zach won’t let it. Or just ancient?

Distinguished, Aron says. Then his mouth turns at the corners, sly and sexy. You know what you look like.

Zach has always been striking. Black skin and bright blue eyes aren’t that common even though most of the population is some nuance of dark-skinned. When he was a child, he hated it, then he learned to use it, and now…well, it gets him laid, but not much else.

I do and there’s no reason why it doesn’t fit Zach.

Aron smiles a tad sheepishly. There’s possibly a connection with your…ah, strong moral code.

I can see you are a fan of codes considering that you were just talking in one. Aron lifts his eyebrow, careful to keep his expression unimpressed. You’re saying that my strong moral code makes me stuffy.

That’s not what I’m saying, Aron denies.

No?

Honestly, it’s like you’re not listening at all, Aron complains.

Zach glares, even though a swell of fondness sits barely restricted in his chest.

I’m saying it makes you Zachariah. Aron smiles winningly. See, totally different.

Zach chuckles and shakes his head. Why are you here, Aron?

Aren’t you happy we met? Found each other again? Reestablished our connection?

Of course, I am which is why I need to know. Zach looks at Aron with his best work with me here expression. It consists of an open posture and a hand cupping his jaw, giving the impression he’s willing to listen and take