by Jane Seville
Jack took the last step that separated them and leaned close, his hands going to D’s waist. He stopped when his face was mere inches from D’s.
“The day ain’t over yet,” he whispered.
Chapter Twenty-four
“Day ain’t over yet.”
Jack’s words floated between them, a world of promises in his voice. His hands on D’s waist were trembling; D could feel the warmth of Jack’s breath and smell the gin he’d had at the bar, as well as the antiseptic they’d used at the hospital to clean the lacerations on his face.
Jack tried to smile, but it seemed to get lost halfway to his mouth. The journey from his head to his smile had become rather blocked and cluttered in the past few days, D imagined, but here he was as usual, trying to be positive and upbeat, and he couldn’t take it. He pulled Jack close, wrapped his arms around him, and pressed his face into Jack’s hair. He felt Jack’s body mold to his immediately, as Jack’s arms went around his back and clutched tight there. “Jesus, Jack,” he breathed. “You gonna be the death a me for sure.” Jack sighed, a deep and shuddering release, the tension flowing out on the tide of his breath. D held him tighter. Goddamn, I been missin’ this. How’m I gonna last months, or years, when we gotta be apart? “Saw them guys had ya and….” He bowed his head down, his mouth against the crook of Jack’s neck. “Damn near stopped m’heart,” he murmured.
Jack straightened, one hand coming up to cup D’s head. “I know what you mean,” he said. “That’s how I felt when I read that note.”
D lifted his head. “Talk later.” Right now I jus’ gotta kiss you ’til ya cain’t breathe. Jack’s lips were as soft as he remembered, the quiet sounds he made warmed his belly as much, and it felt just as right to hold him as it had before. His hands were on D’s neck, pulling him closer. His eyes closed, D felt himself spinning in the darkness, anchored by Jack’s mouth, diving deeper there to find all he could of this man who was his man, no doubting it now, his as sure as he was Jack’s, and he felt the solid lock of their pieces fitting together again, his whole life a solitary odyssey until now, until him, until Jack.
Jack withdrew with a few short kisses. “Hold up,” he said, smiling.
D grunted, pulling him close again. “Naw, no holdin’ up. Wanna get you in that bed, doc.”
“Oh, hell yes,” Jack said, his grin widening, “but I’m grimy. I need a shower.”
“Hmph,” D said. “Guess could use one myself.”
“Then you’d better get in there with me.”
~~~~~
In the shower, it was all hands. His own hands, D’s hands, hands everywhere until it seemed like there had to be more than four between them. Hands on himself, hands on D, he could barely tell whose hands were whose. Soap and hot water and steam and D’s body close against his, the day’s tension swirling down the drain with residue of sweat and fear and grime that had lain on his skin.
He turned around to face the faucet to make the water just a tad hotter, and the next thing he knew, D had both arms around his torso from behind and was hugging him tight, his head on Jack’s shoulder. Jack went still for a moment and just let D hold him, his hands rising to grip D’s forearms. He leaned his head back and rested his cheek against the side of D’s head and there they stayed for what felt like a long time. A rite of water and steam, their nude bodies pressed together feet to shoulders, his back to D’s chest. Jack turned around and wrapped his arms around D’s shoulders; that was better. Face me, D. Whatever you mean but don’t say, face me.
D’s face slid against Jack’s, nuzzling close until he found his lips again, the shower water sluicing into their mouths as D’s hands headed south to grab Jack’s ass, and just like that they were done being silent and relieved. The gentle, cleansing hands became greedy, grabbing hands and the tender kisses became hard and demanding. Jack left off D’s mouth and went for his neck, which he knew D particularly liked, while one of D’s hands slid around his hips and went between his legs from the front, past his balls, soap on the fingers that were suddenly pressing into him. Jack gasped and hung onto D’s shoulders as he worked two fingers inside, riding D’s forearm between his legs like a saddle. “You been missin’ me, doc?” D rumbled into his ear. In lieu of a response Jack just grabbed D’s head and thrust his tongue into his mouth, bucking against D’s fingers inside him until it was finally too much and he pulled away. He reached behind him and shut off the water.
“Uh-huh,” he said to D’s puzzled expression. “You said you wanted to get me in that bed and that’s what we’re going to do.”
“Showers’re good too,” D said, hopefully, but Jack was already out and toweling off. D followed suit.
“Dry off well, now,” Jack said.
“I know, ya hate damp sheets. S’pose ya want me ta blow dry my hair too,” he said, rubbing a hand over his nearly bald scalp.
Jack laughed. “I’m going to dry mine.”
D straightened up, well dried off, and tossed his towel aside. “Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?”
“I can’t get in bed with wet hair. I’ll get the pillowcases wet and then we’ll have to sleep on them and I hate that. Damp, clammy pillowcases.” He shuddered and took the hair dryer out of its jack next to the mirror.
D came up next to him and plucked it out of his hands. “There’s two beds, Jack. If you think I’m gonna wait ’round fer you ta dry yer fuckin’ hair, yer crazy.”
Jack met his eyes and grinned, then stepped right up into D’s personal space. “I love that you want me, and can’t wait another minute to be with me,” he whispered, tipping his head close. “But more than that, I love that you’re saying it.”
D grunted. “Rather show ya.” He dragged Jack out of the bathroom and they stumbled over each other’s feet on the way to the bed. Jack turned D around so when they fell together onto the bed, Jack was on top. They scrambled up the mattress until finally, at last, they were twined there together and ready. Jack pressed his pelvis into D’s as they kissed, haphazard with enthusiasm, rubbing against each other. He felt D’s fingers digging into the flesh of his back and his ass and Jack knew what he wanted. He drew back and looked into D’s eyes and saw that he wanted it too. “Show me whatcha got, doc,” he breathed. It wasn’t quite asking for it, but it was a lot more than he’d been able to manage the first time they’d done this. Jack didn’t know if it was the week’s absence or just the tension release of the trial being over that was letting D pry himself open another few inches, but he’d take it.
Jack got the lube out of his nightstand and slicked himself well, pushed D’s knees up and apart and lay over him, kissing him hard and deep while one of D’s hands guided Jack as he pushed in. He tried to go slowly but D wouldn’t let him; he grabbed Jack’s ass and yanked him in. “Fuck, D,” Jack grunted.
“Yeah,” D hissed. “That what you want?”
“I got what I want,” Jack said and kissed him again, planting his knees so he could thrust forward, D’s legs wrapping around his waist now, his head thrown back against the sheets, droplets of water from Jack’s damp hair glistening on his chest. He felt wild and powerful; he had to be if this man was willing to spread his legs for him, Jack Francisco, mild-mannered surgeon, real nice guy, pretty easy on the eyes, good with people, tastefully decorated apartment and subscriptions to GQ and Men’s Health. Today he felt like more. Tonight he felt like a god, in part because D was looking up at him like he might just be one.
Jack picked up the pace, sweat joining the shower dampness on his face, D’s jaw clenched against the moans that Jack could hear anyway, his hands flailing up at Jack’s shoulders until they gripped his neck and pulled him down again to kiss him, bite at his lips, hips churning, D muttering now into Jack’s ear.
It blasted through Jack like a freight train and he cried out as he came inside D’s clenching body, dimly aware of warm damp spreading between them as D followed. His yell of release was half-swallowed by D’s mouth and then he sagged, spent, into his arms and
the world spun away.
~~~~~
They lay there in silence for a long time, shifting positions every ten minutes or so, touching quietly, not speaking. D traced the bruises on Jack’s abdomen with one finger, his brow furrowing as he inspected the damage. Jack stroked his fingers over D’s architectural skull, his shorn hair cat-soft under his hand.
The sterile hotel air dried the dampness from their bodies and let them chill; they wordlessly pulled back the thick, heavy bedclothes and slid beneath. D drew Jack into his arms and they curled against each other with quiet sighs.
After more than an hour of silence, Jack finally spoke. “Where do I start?”
D grunted. “Guess ya gotta right ta know what I been doin’ here.” Jack said nothing, just waited. “Couldn’t let ya come here ta testify and not come with, ta look out fer you. Ya know that, don’tcha?”
Jack hesitated. “What about you? You were going to figure out who’s after you.”
“I been doin’ that too.” D didn’t speak for a moment. He didn’t know how to explain it without it taking all night, and he had more plans for Jack. “Jack, nothin’ much matters now ’cept yer goin’ inta Witsec on Monday and I’ll be damn glad ta see it.”
“That man tonight. That man with the syringe. He was somebody, wasn’t he? Somebody significant, I mean. He just had that look, like he was.”
D nodded. “His name’s Petros. He’s the kinda bad guy that other bad guys tell scary stories ’bout.”
“He works for the brothers?”
“Not exclusively, but ’round here, yeah he usually does. He’s a free agent and a real high-priced piece a work.” D thought for a moment. “Nikos Petros grew up in the Greek Mafia, then went inta their military. Did some trainin’ with the British SAS. Some people say he spent a few years travelin’ the Middle East learnin’ the trade.”
“What trade?”
“Pain. Pain ‘n’ torture.”
Jack was quiet for a few seconds. “That’s what he was going to do to me, isn’t it?”
“Probly. Seein’s you already testified, if the brothers still want ya dead, it’d be as a warnin’. To make it a good warnin’, they’d… well, they’d want ya ta die as slow and with as much pain as possible. Send a message, this is what’s waitin’ fer anyone dumb enough a cross us.”
“Jesus,” Jack breathed, shuddering a little. D held him a little closer.
“Don’t think on it. Ain’t gonna happen now.”
“What about you?” Jack said, lifting his head to meet D’s eyes. “Did you find out anything more about your blackmailers?”
He considered telling Jack that no, he hadn’t. He didn’t need to know about JJ, or the message, and D was loath to burden him with it. He looked in Jack’s eyes and saw his concern there, and knew that he couldn’t keep this from him, not if they were going to be what he hoped they could someday be. “A bit, yeah.” He paused to gather his thoughts. “When I got here, I found that there was two people hired by the brothers ta kill you. I dealt with one myself.”
“You killed him?”
“Nah, just gave him some real strong encouragement to leave town.”
“Oh.”
“The other one we was havin’ trouble findin’. But then she turn up in the hospital. Got beat up real bad, said she had a message fer me. The message was that no one was gonna kill you, because… because that was my job, and they still expect me ta do it. Told ’em I’d never hurt you, and she said that I would, even if I didn’t think so.”
Jack was frowning. “So these faceless blackmailers of yours beat up this other hit man… uh, hit woman… to keep her from killing me, so that you could do it?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, where the hell were they when those guys jumped me in the alley?”
D had to think about that for a moment. “Huh. That’s a damn good question.” He arched one eyebrow at Jack. “Possible they never thought you was dumb enough to go out inta that alley inna firs’ place.”
Jack rolled his eyes. “Maybe they just didn’t find out I was going to that bar until it was too late.”
“Or maybe,” D said, thinking out loud, “Petros sold his services ta somebody else who was willin’ ta pay more’n the brothers do.”
“You mean… maybe he wasn’t going to take me to the brothers?”
“No way ta know now. But if he was workin’ fer my blackmailers instead a the brothers… that is troublin’ news.”
Jack’s cell phone went off. He rolled over and answered it. “Hello? Oh hey, Churchill.” Pause. “Yeah, he’s still here. Hoping to keep him here as long as I can. When are we… oh yeah?” Pause. “Okay. Yeah, I can deal with that. Will do.” He hung up and turned back toward D. “Churchill’s going to take me up to Albany on Monday morning and from there I don’t know where. It’s starting.”
“Yeah,” D said, reaching out with one finger to Jack’s face. It’s fer the best. It’s what he needs ta be safe. You cain’t do what you gotta do fer him if you gotta watch him too. Let him go. Them Witsec guys are good. He’ll be safe.
But how’m I gonna let him go?
Jack seemed to be considering something. “He says I’m to stay in this room all weekend, and they’re going to airlift me out on Monday morning from the roof.”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Jack met his eyes. “Can you stay?” His face was full of boyish hope, excited for a longer reprieve.
“All weekend?”
“Please, D. Stay with me. I mean… come Monday morning, I….” He took a moment, looked away and swallowed hard. “I need to have as much time with you as I can before I’m gone, because it could be a very long time before I see you again.” His eyes swiveled back over and met D’s again, and the look in them might have knocked him over if he hadn’t already been lying down. He drew Jack close again.
“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I can stay.” Jack sighed and kissed him, then tucked himself close again. “How can ya do it, Jack?” D asked after another long silence, not wanting to ask and afraid of the answer.
“Do what?”
“Feel… however ya feel, ’bout me.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause a who I am. What I done.”
Jack was quiet for a few beats, and then he propped up on one elbow so he could look down into D’s face. “I know what you’ve done.”
“Don’t it bother you?”
“Yeah, it bothers me. But… I know you, D. You’ve killed, but you’re not a killer. Not really. You did it because you were driven to it, and then because you thought it was all you had, and the more you did it, the more it shut you down so that it was all you could do. If you were a killer, you’d thrive on it. It wouldn’t eat you up inside the way it did. The more you did it, the worse you felt, the less you felt.”
D nodded. “Don’t change what I done.”
“No. And if somebody just showed me you on paper, what you’d been through and what you’d done, I’d probably say that this man deserved to spend the rest of his life behind bars. You’ve spent ten years of your life killing bad guys, D. Some people would say you’re a hero.”
He met Jack’s eyes. “You one a them people?”
“I think you know that I’m not. But I can’t….” He hesitated, looking away. “I can’t set aside what you’ve done that’s good, and the horrible tragedy that drove you to where you were. No one is all good or all evil. You can’t change what you’ve done in the past, not for me or for anyone. But you’ve already changed who you are now.”
“Cain’t take no credit fer that,” D murmured. “If I changed, it’s ’cause a you, doc.”
“I don’t think so. Maybe I made you want to change, but you had to do it yourself. Do you really know how much you’ve changed since we met?” D didn’t know what to say. “Because I see it, and it’s astonishing. And how you were with me… you were supposed to kill me, you were rough, you were brutal and you made no bones about it. I thought I’d fear you, and I shou
ld have hated you, but somehow you made me love you.”
D blinked up at Jack’s face, his steady blue eyes not letting him go.
“Yeah, you heard me,” Jack whispered.
D shut his eyes before Jack saw inside. “Jack, I… I’m not—”
“Shh,” Jack said, pressing his forehead to D’s. “Just let it be.”
Arching his neck, D yearned upward for Jack’s mouth and was met halfway, no more words, words that were terrifying and intoxicating and thrilling, words that made him want to curl up into a ball in the corner and sob his heart out, sob out all the poison that still lived there. Just Jack’s mouth, the warmth of his skin as he slid over D like he was shielding him from an explosion, his hands roaming over Jack’s body, and if only they were larger he could touch more of him at once, if he just moved them fast enough he could feel all of Jack at the same time.
Jack rose up and straddled D’s hips, easing himself down, their fingers intertwined... oh God his body was the only heaven D would ever know... when they were joined like this, he wanted to be Anson, go back in time and do it all over, do it differently and then come find Jack as a different man, a whole man with something to give him, a man who could have told Jack that he loved him, right down to the murky dregs of his rotted soul.
~~~~~
Jack got up to go to the bathroom around two a.m. D was sleeping peacefully; Jack wished he could say the same for himself. He’d done no more than doze all night.
He stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, the bruises on his face startling him; he’d almost forgotten they were there.
I told him. Kinda sorta.
Somehow you made me love you.
He hadn’t planned that. It just kind of came out. The second he said it he’d wished to take it back, but that wish had only lasted until he’d seen D’s face. He looked like no one had ever said that to him before, that no one had ever loved him before. Maybe they hadn’t. Surely his daughter… but that wasn’t remotely the same.
