Zander Anatolius has been revived from the fatal effects of the super-soldier program, but now he has to face his estranged family and tell a story few would believe. With his lover and the crew of the Chaos at his side, Zander returns home to a media frenzy, threats from the military and pressure to join the family business.
Felix Ingesson still struggles with the horror of believing Zander dead. And no matter how strong their emotional connection is, Felix feels out of place in the glittery world of Zander’s rich family. His lover would be better off without a broken, low-class ship’s engineer holding him back.
When the crew receives word that another of Zander’s former teammates needs rescue, Felix travels with the Chaos…setting Zander free. But when Zander is arrested for treason, the men realize they need each other as much as ever—not only to survive, but to make their lives worth living.
Book three of Chaos Station
An arm caught him about the middle. Felix yelped as he was jerked off his feet. Instinct had his arms and legs flailing out, but the smile remained plastered across his face. He could smell Zed, his sweat, soap and cologne. Combined with the warmth pressed to his back and the slight dizziness from being yanked up and back, he was wrapped in a moment of joy. The thrill in his gut was excitement, not fear. They were playing, they were living. Zed would put him down and return too, without a headache creasing his brow. Then they might do it all again, simply because they could. These moments, he could handle—the light ones, the uncrowded ones, the moments unobscured by the weight of expectation.
A shrill squeal cut through the grumble of laughter and huffed breath. Zed dropped Felix to the ground and patted his back. “Hold still.”
Why was Zed thumping his back and what the fuck was that noise? Hair rose along the back of Felix’s neck, and the creep continued over his scalp as he tried to identify the sound, placement and purpose. It had the cadence of a warning, an alarm. The pitch high and tight. Zed tugged on his belt and Felix rocked backward. Then the squeal increased in volume, all but drowning out Zed’s muttered curse.
Felix turned in time to see Zed drop something into the carafe of water he still held. About a centimeter of liquid covered the bottom, and the fingernail-sized whatever screamed from the surface until Zed shook the container. Water sloshed over the top, killing the sound and the…
“What is that?”
“A NAIL.” Zed displayed his red fingertips. “I found it tucked into a rip in your belt. It must have overheated.”
Felix’s hands went to his belt, fingers of his right dancing along the length, fingers of his clumsier left hand bumping uselessly against his hip. “My belt?” A hollow opened in his gut. All the ill returned to his humor with a sick thud. Of course it was his job to ruin the party.
“Bren, you had better alert security. We need to scan everyone who was on the docks this afternoon. And every room we’ve been in since. Shit, the party…”
Brennan already had his wallet out. “What are we scanning for? What’s a NAIL?”
Felix closed his eyes. His stomach now swirled around the hollow in his middle. Not only had he ruined the party, he’d brought along an interloper. NAIL stood for Non Ambient Intermittent Listening Device.
Zed answered his brother’s question more simply. “It’s a bug.”
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Jenn and Kelly met in 2009 through a mutual infatuation with a man who wasn’t real. After all but crashing the video game’s forums with daily dissection of their obsession, they started writing together, discovered they really liked writing together and began plotting stories in worlds of their own creation.
The CHAOS STATION series aren’t the first books they’ve written together, and they’re pretty sure they won’t be the last. As long as their so-called smartphones keep making autocorrects that trigger brainstorming sessions, they’ll have enough character ideas and plots to keep them writing for years to come.
Chaos Station series: www.chaosstation.com
Jenn Burke: www.jennburke.com
Kelly Jensen: www.kellyjensenwrites.com