In a future where outposts swelter beneath a nuclear sun and run-gunners patrol dusty wastelands to protect against winged creatures known as devlars, Trin is the mech at the waystation in Arens. He has a thing for the gunners: rough men with strong hands and hard bodies, who roll through his garage like the hot desert wind. Gerrick’s the best gunner around, a quick draw with a deadly aim and a penchant for sharing his pallet with young men. He has a roving eye and roaming hands, and has left a string of broken hearts in his wake. Having heard the tales of Gerrick's bravery and seen the man in action for himself, Trin has fallen in love with the man he believes Gerrick to be, and he’s sure he can change the gunner’s mind if given the chance. Gerrick’s all he wants out of this blasted world, and he tells anyone who will listen. Then Gerrick rides through Arens. He’s heard the rumors of what Trin will do for a gunner who only mentions his name. What he wants to know is, what will Trin do for him?

Trin

He sleeps without dreaming and wakes to the golden light of late afternoon. While he was out, he burrowed beneath the sheets, pulling the thin blanket up over his head. Now when he opens his eyes, the blanket filters the light into gauze. Without moving, Trin lies curled into himself and watches the shapes made on the sheet by the clouds passing outside his window. He tries hard not to think.


But images flash through his mind like the glint of light off coins tumbling to the floor. A jackpot, each memory backed by another. The gunner strong and sure above him in the night and on the other side of that, the slashed wires leading into the fuel pump. Another, the bounder bending in front of the jukebox, his pants taut across his ass. On the flipside, the punctured radiator bleeding steam. A third, two men crammed into the shower together, Gerrick fucking into the bounder’s mouth…and another glimpse of the truck, silver tape strapped around cables to keep them in place.


Chapter 37