The Runaway Millions by Parker Avrile

Author:Parker Avrile [Avrile, Parker]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: gay male/male romance
Publisher: Paris April Press
Published: 2016-04-12T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

"Fuck me, Chance. But if Michel says yes, OK. OK."

He dropped the phone into the nightstand drawer. Bryce nuzzled at the back of his neck. "What was that about? A million dollars?"

"I'm going to be a writer," Kyle said.

Bryce laughed. But it sounded strained. "My Paris affair with Stoney Rockland. Won't he sue?"

Kyle squirmed in Bryce's arms to turn over. Looked into those blue-gray eyes. "Nothing to do with Stoney. It's a gangster film. Inspired by the rumors someone is spreading that I worked with a gang of professional killers."

"Christ," Bryce said. "Of course you won't do it."

"I don't know, Bryce. I don't want to do it, but Chance says I don't have a choice. I'm under contract to him. And he's stood by me through all this shite with my American visa."

"Who are these professional killers supposed to be?"

"Well, Michel. They've made it into something glamorous. Maybe in the movie he'll be protecting another boy. I mean, another girl. The movie's about girls."

"You said something about Roman Nigel." Bryce sometimes used the name of Kyle's stalker, although Kyle never did.

"Yeah. Chance's got questions about his suicide. I've got an alibi. Stoney and I were in bed. His team knows it isn't true but they'll testify to that. Stoney's their gravy train. They're never putting him on the scene of a shotgun suicide."

Bryce got up. Flat belly, long thighs. Tight ass. Kyle appreciated the view. Still, he could read the tension in the way Bryce strode out of the room and returned a few moments later with a couple of bottles of sparkling water.

"It's you who's in danger if they open an investigation, isn't it?" Kyle asked. "They can put your jet on the scene of that airstrip at about the right time. I'm covered but you're exposed, love."

"It isn't my jet any more." Bryce didn't bother to climb back under the covers. He sat stiff-necked against the headboard. "It's the property of the Norwegian Oil Network."

Kyle sat up too and drained half the bottle in a single swallow. He waited.

"There's things you don't know," Bryce said. "Things you probably don't need to know. Things even I don't know. But I think it's highly unlikely that Civil Aviation can put that jet on the scene. It's too late. At that time I had a man with an ability to manipulate digital records. So. We flew out that night from Teterboro on a flight path for Minneapolis. At some point we experienced an inflight emergency and came down at an abandoned general aviation airstrip west of Allentown, Pennsylvania. That's it. No interim stops."

Kyle's experience with falsifying public records began and ended with paying off a clerk in the Nevada Department of Motor Vehicles to issue him a driver's license showing his age as five years older. Oh, and giving him the right to operate a motor vehicle, even though he hadn't actually ever taken a driving test. "You can trust this man to never testify that he altered these records?"

Bryce put down the empty green bottle with a clatter.

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