Untouchable (LGBT - SciFi - Romance)

Chapter 50

Two days later, he was just finishing a simple breakfast in his cabin, when he heard a knock at the door. Rather warily, as he wasn't expecting anyone, he opened the door and found Martinez outside, the very man he had been thinking of pretty much non-stop for the last two days. They stared at each other for an uncomfortable moment, both considerably paler than they had been a few seconds before.

"Uh, please come in." Lang cleared his throat. He couldn't think what to say, his brain felt like the bowl of cereal he had just eaten, thick and mushy. His heart had leapt stupidly in his chest before what was left of his brain kicked in and told him it was scarcely likely this was a social visit. Not given their very recent history, the part where Lang had violently pushed him away and then left the planet to avoid him. But he couldn't stop his heart beating faster.

Martinez stepped into the cabin, holding himself stiffly formal. God, he was an idiot. He should never have come here, not by himself at least. He didn't sit down but turned straight to face Lang.

"Given what happened with Rossi, I thought I'd come and ask you straight out if you had anything to do with that business on King's Island?"

Lang looked blankly at him, trying to make sense of what he had just said.

"I'm sorry? What business on King's Island?"

Martinez frowned. "You must have heard. Ron Pearce was murdered three nights ago. In his house on King's Island."

Lang looked astounded and for the first time Martinez felt a tendril of doubt creep into his certainty. As soon as he had heard Lang was holidaying a couple of islands away, he had immediately suspected him, of the sabotage at least, if not the murder as well.

"Honestly, I hadn't heard a thing about it," insisted Lang. "I'm having a complete break, I've been deliberately avoiding anything to do with the outside world since I've been here. How did he die?"

"Garrotte."

"Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy," Lang smiled thinly. He sat down, perching on the edge of the table. His eyes kept flicking over Martinez, from his feet to his face, remembering vividly how much he had wanted him for those two weeks, how strong and uncomplicated his desire had been. He had felt none of the distorted guilty shame and self abuse he had felt with Rossi.

He wondered for the very first time, whether it might actually be possible for him to have a normal relationship with another man, with Juan Martinez to be exact. He didn't know if Martinez was seriously interested in him or not. Had he just been an experiment for him? A taste of the forbidden? He saw the colour rising uncomfortably in the other man's face and realised he had been staring for too long.

Hastily, he gathered his thoughts together. "Let me see, three nights ago I was here. I had dinner at the resort restaurant and then came back, read a book and went to bed at about 23:00 hours."

"Can anyone confirm that?" Part of him hoped Lang had an alibi, the selfish part prayed that he didn't.

"I assume the staff can tell you that I was at the restaurant for dinner but apart from that, no. I was here by myself. Can I ask, what made you think I might be involved? Apart from my rather natural desire to exterminate vermin, I mean?"

If anything, Martinez' frown got even fiercer. "Don't be an idiot, Robin. This is serious! The Walleroo police will be here to interview you soon, you're one of the chief suspects as it is, don't make it any worse for yourself."

He had called him Robin. Juan looked absolutely adorable, so angry with him for jeopardising his own safety. Lang wondered wildly what would happen if he simply grabbed him and carried him into the bedroom. Would he fight him, or surrender, or both? He was rather shocked at how aroused he felt by the mere thought. Juan in his arms, struggling furiously but then submitting, lying back and accepting his embrace. He stood up quickly and turned away, that fantasy felt uncomfortably close to the S and M games he and Rossi had played. He made an instant vow to his new self, that he would never, ever make Martinez do something he didn't want to. "Would you like a coffee?"

Martinez glared in exasperation at the broad back in front of him. "No I don't want a coffee, damn it! I had to tell Captain Varga about you, about what happened on Huan."

Lang faltered for a brief second. "Varga knows about the blackmail? Has she found that recording of me yet?" he asked over his shoulder. He really felt like a large brandy, but he made himself take the cup of steaming coffee from the dispenser and sip it. So the worst had happened then, the thing he had most dreaded, his colleagues would see his humiliation, the behaviour he was now so ashamed of. Now that it had finally happened, he felt almost unnaturally calm. He supposed the anxiety and self-loathing would kick in soon.

Why wasn't Martinez saying anything? He turned back to face him.

The other man was studying him, an arrested expression on his face. Either Lang was a better actor than he'd ever given him credit for, or else he really didn't know. Martinez had been so certain Lang was involved, and he had wanted to give him a chance to come clean before the official interrogation began. Now he wondered, rather uneasily, if he had actually harmed him by making this early visit, prevented him from displaying his obvious ignorance to Captain Varga. Well, he had gone too far to stop now.

"As far as I know, no-one has it. There seems to be a problem accessing the information on Pearce's console unit."

"A problem? Thank you, sweet god! Sorry, Martinez, I know you need the information on it but ... thank god!" For an uneasy minute, Martinez thought Lang was going to break out into a happy dance. As it was, he looked so relieved it was like he'd dropped ten years. He could tell he was finding it difficult to stop the smile spreading across his face. If Varga came in now she would probably arrest him on the spot.

"It wasn't me, Juan, I swear. I have never been to Pearce's house, nor King's Island either, for that matter. I admit I won't shed a single tear, but I had nothing to do with it." He thought Martinez was beginning to believe him.

He continued persuasively. "If I had wanted to kill him, I wouldn't have used a garrotte. Frankly, I wouldn't have wanted to get that close. I would simply have used my weapon, my stunner."

Martinez nodded involuntarily, that fitted with what he had thought himself.

Lang wasn't finished. He frowned. "A garrotte is rather an unusual weapon these days. I remember about ten years ago, there were a couple of cases on Burra. There was a small war between rival gangs and a couple of key figures were murdered, but each time the leaders of the other gang had a full-proof alibi. We never caught the murderer, though it was rumoured the deaths were the work of a contract killer. It might be worth looking in to."

Martinez looked suddenly extremely interested. "Yes, it would!"

A contract killer opened up a whole new range of possibilities. Who had that sort of money to pay for a top professional? Who stood to gain financially from Pearce's death? In fact, now that he thought about it, who fit both those criteria and also had good reason to think Pearce had recently tried to murder him?