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The Soldier’s Familiar

by TJ Nichols

Chapter 1

The bass thumped through Bailey’s feet as he stood a cubicle that reeked of piss and sweat. He rifled through the wallet, taking the credit card for his grandmother and the cash for himself, then repeated the process with the other three wallets. He’d ditch them on the dancefloor as usual, for their owners to find if they were lucky. Tomorrow they’d figure out their cards were gone, but by then it would be too late.

His hand shook as he did the last one. Only four, it wasn’t enough. He muttered several curses, then slid the cards into his shoe and the money into his wallet. He hated this. He wanted to be able to go out for a good time, not work. Not that anyone but his family considered this work. He couldn’t get a real job because then he’d be asked to steal from the company, and that was a far bigger crime than stealing wallets.

With a shrug, he readied himself to go back out. He’d find someone to dance with and he wouldn’t take their wallet. So what if he only gave her four cards, instead of the six he was supposed to? She’d sigh her disappointment, and they’d eat boiled potatoes and fish all week as punishment. It was no wonder his mother had gotten herself killed; it had been her only way out.

He flushed and stepped out. Soft grunts came from the other end of the bathroom. Half their luck. If he got a boyfriend, he’d be punished with only potatoes on his plate. Tomorrow he’d be dragged out of bed to go to church to seek forgiveness, then be right back at it come Monday morning in the crush of the Sydney commute.

When he’d been younger, he used to hope that his mother had faked her death to escape the family and that she’d come and spring him. He raked his fingers through his bleached blond hair that, according to his grandmother, was too long for a man. It didn’t even touch his shoulders. One rebellion at a time.

Happy that he hadn’t gotten blotchy with stress he slid back onto the dance floor, letting the stolen wallets hit the ground as he moved through the press of people. He ordered a beer, and the bartender studied him a bit too hard as though he knew Bailey’s ID was as fake as his hair. Another six months and he’d be old enough to drink and do whatever he wanted. Leaving home was at the top of his list, but if he really wanted to leave, he’d have done it already. Wouldn’t he?

The fear that they’d hunt him down, or worse, kept him frozen in place. He knew he wasn’t safe staying, but running was more dangerous.

The bartender handed over the beer, and Bailey took a drink as he surveyed the crowd searching for targets, not to rob, but to kiss. Everyone was having fun tonight; why shouldn’t he?

There were guys in make-up and see-through shirts, men clearly on the hunt, others in groups, some old enough to be his father—not that he’d ever met his father. He could, of course, dance and hope to be found by someone pretty enough to swap spit with. He only wanted them for one song, so all he cared about was their eyes, their lips, and the way they moved.

With his beer in his hand he slid deeper into the crowd, vowing to return to work in a minute or ten. The cards rubbed against the sole of his foot as he moved. The clock was ticking on how long they’d be useful. He needed to finish the job. Gather two more cards and leave. But he loved this song.

Just this one.

Men bumped into him, dancing and grinding, and for a few breaths he pretended that this was his world and he belonged. Their hands didn’t reach into his pockets, and it wasn’t a hunger for money in the air. He opened his eyes; a dark-haired man dressed in black was moving in.

Bailey’s heart almost stopped; the man looked like a cop. That clean cut, sharp as a diamond look. Bet he’d cut his tongue if they kissed. That was exactly what he wanted. Lust swept through his veins, and he gave the guy a grin. The man returned the smile and angled his body toward Bailey. When he smiled, he was as hot as fuck, though that distant look in his eyes was still there. Bailey mirrored him. Why not? Kissing a cop while carrying stolen cards and cash added spice.

Not that they were in kissing distance.

He could change that. Bailey took a step but wanted the man to make the next move. Usually he got in close and got their hopes up while lightening their pockets. He didn’t want to make the first move this time.

The itch at the back of his brain was a warning he tried to ignore. Mixing business and pleasure wasn’t smart. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d kissed a guy, just the first time he’d done it because he was attracted, not because he wanted what was in their wallet.

The man slid closer; then they were touching. Bailey’s fingers curled like they wanted to explore more than his pockets. He gripped his beer a little tighter and enjoyed the way they bumped together.

The man’s hand slid around Bailey’s waist, then his lips were next to his ear and his breath was on Bailey’s skin. “Kass. What’s your name?”

“Bailey.” He gave his real name without thinking. It was so noisy, Kass probably hadn’t heard.

If Bailey was human, he wouldn’t have heard Kass, but his ears were sensitive enough to hear a rabbit shit in a snowstorm. Apparently. He’d never seen snow. Being a snow leopard in the middle of Sydney sucked.

Kass smiled again, and Bailey couldn’t look away. Didn’t want to. Kass’s smile was dazzling, and he got a cute little dimple on one side. Too bad the cute ones were always law abiding. If they started talking, Bailey would have to start lying about what he did, and he didn’t want that poison between them. But for one song, nothing mattered except the way they moved.

Kass pulled him close and Bailey regretted having one hand taken up with beer when it should be grabbing a handful of Kass. The song would end in about thirty seconds. He wanted another, but he’d wasted enough time.

Every move Kass made sent lust shivering down Bailey’s back. Now that he’d let himself indulge; he didn’t want to stop. He needed to feel Kass’s bare skin.

Could he steal a new experience, something to remember later?

After a moment’s hesitation, Bailey let his fingers creep beneath Kass’s shirt.

Kass took the hint and drew Bailey to him so there could be no doubt about the way he felt. The length of his dick rubbed in all the right places and Bailey was as hard as concrete. He needed more than a dance. He pressed his luck and tipped his chin, offering his lips and hoping Kass would make the next move. He wanted to be seen and desired, instead of being the one to hunt and catch and steal. Kass swooped and claimed him, not needing even a heartbeat.

Their lips crashed together, hard and hungry. Bailey opened his mouth, desperate for a taste. It was like falling into night and feeling the stars prick along his skin as the universe consumed him. Bailey’s eyes closed as he gave into the dizzying sensation.