Shift: Infected, #5 by Andrea Speed

Author:Andrea Speed
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: infected, Andrea Speed, gay urban fantasy
Publisher: Andrea Speed
Published: 2020-05-07T16:00:00+00:00

4

Cream and Bastards Rise

ROAN remembered searching Danny Nakamura’s room and despairing that he had more expensive stuff than Roan did. Jordan Hatcher made Danny look just this side of homeless.

By God, it was disgusting. Wall-mounted plasma screen, insane computer setup, home theater system, speakers big enough to be footlockers... holy shit, no kid should have this much money. He had a metal book rack that contained no books, just movies and video games, and the only pictures on the wall were the occasional pinup. All he could tell from the room was that its occupant was rich and a maid had been through it recently.

There was little in written material, and he didn’t bother looking for any. If he was a modern teen, if he had a journal, it would be online. He booted up the kid’s super-charged computer system and started going through the history, the most visited links.

Jordan had a Facebook page, but he hadn’t updated it in two weeks. His last note on there was just to say that he thought this season’s American Idol sucked. (Didn’t it always suck? But then again, Roan was an aging punk rocker, and was there anyone sadder than an aging punk rocker? Well, maybe an aging metalhead. At a certain point, it was just sad in both cases.) He also had a Twitter page, but again, not updated in more than two weeks and just full of nothing, post after post of nothing. No help here.

The last site he’d visited—and the one the history indicated he visited a lot—was a website called Tabu-xxx. It demanded a credit card number right away to enter, with no hint of what could be waiting inside (except, of course, porn). Roan copied two days’ worth of popular URLs into a text file and printed it out, deciding that he’d ask Holden—purveyor of all smut, in person or online—to check it out. If he needed a credit card number to get in Roan would give him one, but knowing Holden, he wouldn’t. It was probably just a bunch of “horny” Asian girls, but who knew? Might as well cover the bases.

Especially since Jordan had left him no clues. Or should he say the maid who cleaned the place? Either way, no clues to be had. Bit of a bummer. A wasted trip.

Except, was it? Seeing this place, he was struck by the feeling that he knew why Jordan fled and equally couldn’t imagine him fleeing. This place was a wonderland of materialism. Roan could see himself enjoying this for a bit, and then snapping and going crazy. Maybe Jordan felt the same way. Could he blame him?

Once downstairs, he found Dylan still standing in Hatcher’s study, his posture stiff, arms folded across his chest like he was trying so very hard not to leap across the room and strangle the smug bastard, who was still working away on his laptop while the Tokyo news played on in deathly silence.

“I’m done here,” Roan said.

Dylan looked relieved, and Hatcher barely glanced at him.

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