Page 19 of Escape Velocity

Chapter Four

Elgin Tudor leaned back in his contour chair, custom made to fit his five-foot-ten frame. Since becoming Deputy Director of Planetary resources on Danalon, he had taken full advantage of his position to surround himself with anything he needed—or wanted. Although the government job was heavy on prestige, it didn’t pay enough to support the lifestyle to which he’d become accustomed. Back in the projects, when his name had been Erno Dupar, he’d been dirt poor—with a father who came home drunk most nights and took out his frustrations on his son. Mom had known about it, but she had been too cowardly to confront her husband, lest she end up getting slammed against a wall. If she hadn’t been a coward, she would have taken her son and run away. But since she’d been too weak to be in charge of her own fate, she’d let her son be abused on a regular basis.

But there had been something about the beatings that was sexually exciting to the young Erno. At first, he’d been ashamed of admit it—even to himself. Then he had stopped fighting his true self and jerked off while he could still feel the pain of his father’s blows. Solitary pleasure had given way to a more entrepreneurial bent.

As a teen, he’d changed his name to Elgin and embraced the truth of his nature. He liked sex with men as well as women, and he liked encounters with an edge of pain and danger. Looking to score at some of the exotic clubs in Port City, he’d made himself available to the power brokers who couldn’t risk having their S and M tastes known. And a club owner named Walder Cunningham had realized the young man’s talents could make them both a pile of credits.

They’d formed a partnership in providing erotic favors for the rich and well-connected. Walder had provided him with a secret room at the back of the club where he could take special guests. Sometimes Elgin would play the role he had with his father but going further into forbidden pleasures like letting a client stop and fondle Elgin’s cock during a whipping—both knowing that the encounter was building to hot sex. And sometimes he’d be the slave master dishing out pain to men who craved punishment as part of their erotic play. After a wild and strenuous night, the men would be relaxed. And with a little encouragement, they would reveal confidential tidbits.

Their pillow talk had given Elgin access to government secrets—which he’d used to secure himself a good job—in the planetary government, no less.

He’d worked his way up to his current position, where his real money came from his under-the-table activities. The information he was able to sell to investors looking for the best return on their money was like a private catborn mine for him. Add to that the bribes he took for granting licenses, he had quickly amassed a small fortune, which in turn allowed him to pay for goods that were out of reach for ordinary citizens.

He had luxury wines and spirits, the finest coban leather upholstery on his furniture, drugs that would give you an instant high—or an instant low—and not kill too many of your brain cells.

And now he was awaiting one of his most enjoyable shipments. The smuggling process had worked smoothly for him for the past ten years. This was the first time he had encountered a problem.

Annoyance flickered on his pudgy lips as he made another call to Rafe Cortez. Once again, he got the same robot voice asking for information.

This was his third try to contact the importer he’d forced to take an illegal job, and he wasn’t pleased with the results. Because his name and location were blocked, he could leave a message.

“This is your client,” he said in a voice that was hard as a lump of swagu crystals. “What is the ETA of my package?”

There was no answer from the black and white pattern floating in front of his face.

Swinging away from the comms unit, he picked up the wrist restraints he’d laid out in preparation for the arrival of his latest purchase and turned the padded cuffs in his hands. He knew there were men who viewed the stunning women illegally imported from Naxion in a different light. They liked being seen with a beautiful blond or brunette on their arm at social events. And some fools had even married a slave. He didn’t care about marriage—or showing off his trophies. His pleasures were private and having a woman who was a nonperson meant that he could enjoy her to the fullest. Since his childhood, his tastes had matured. Beatings still charged him up. But switching from bottom to top was even better.

He’d asked for a new slave with spirit. He hated the wimps who just rolled over and let him do anything he wanted to them. The fighters were more of a challenge, but they always gave up in the end. Part of the fun was breaking them.

He had been aroused for days, primed to have his new captive delivered for his sexual enjoyment. As a substitute, he could have arranged for a whore from one of the high-class establishments in the city. But he was damned if he was going to pay for a temporary companion when a slave was already on order.

He clenched his fists in frustration. When he got hold of Rafe Cortez, he was going to make the bastard wish he’d never crossed Elgin Tudor.

He considered his options. If he couldn’t contact Cortez, was there some way to get a line on the property he’d purchased?

He’d been keeping track of Cortez—until the man had suddenly dropped off the radar. Which might mean he’d sent someone else to bring back his purchase. Or perhaps not. There was always the possibility that something had gone wrong on Naxion. It was a dangerous place. Either Rafe or a courier could be in trouble—or dead.

He pushed himself out of the chair and went to the door of the playroom he’d gotten ready for his new purchase.

Inside he surveyed the restraint table, the wall rings, the racks of whips and implements he might use.

Sagan’s balls. Looking at them was making him hard as a Palamar pump handle.

He reached down to press his hand against his fly, rocking his palm against his swollen cock. Maybe he should reconsider using a prostitute. If he was out of his mind with frustration when his purchase arrived, he’d be too impatient to enjoy her properly. Maybe he needed a quick orgasm now to calm himself down. Yes, quick by his standards. He was powerful, but he couldn’t kill a prostitute from the city—or damage her too badly.

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Max considered Amber’s question. What was he going to do now? It might be possible to sneak her onto Danalon, but then what? Someone was expecting her arrival, and they’d be on the lookout for her, which meant he couldn’t take her to Port City or anywhere else the authorities would be checking the credentials of newcomers.

There was another option, of course. When Danalon had first been settled, it quickly divided into two factions. Most colonists had come there fully committed to living within a space-age society. A secret minority wanted no part of the Confederation and its laws. Because they’d studied the geography of the planet, they’d known it would be a good place to form their own community. The rebels had defected soon after arrival, fleeing into the swamps that lay to the east of Port City. Away from the main group, they formed their own culture. By modern standards, they lived a hardscrabble existence, getting their food from the land and trading with the city for some of the things they needed—like tools and weapons.

Were they more primitive than the people who lived on Naxion? Maybe. And from what Max knew of their society, men ran the show, and women were second-class citizens. He could leave Amber there, but it would be a life with few options. Of course, she’d had no options on Naxion, but he hadn’t plucked her out of that hellhole to leave her in a swamp rat’s camp.

But thinking about the defectors gave him an idea. Some swamp dwellers did leave that community for modern life, and if she said she’d come from there, the authorities would probably not be able to prove she was lying because nobody was issuing birth certificates out in the backcountry.

He heard himself saying, “We need to get you a forged identity.”

“What does that mean?”

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