“Jack, please let me go. You don’t want me, so why—”
“Fuck you,” Jack snapped, lust and anger about level. “You know that’s not true.” He put Ethan’s hand over his still hard dick.
Eyes opening, Ethan looked at his hand cupping him, Jack’s brown fingers around his wrist. The sight would normally send Jack over the edge but he reined the impulse back.
“It’s not me who doesn’t want this,” Jack said softly.
Swift as a snake, Ethan reversed their hands so he was holding Jack’s palm over his own bulge. “You were saying?”
Jack sucked in a deep breath. Oh yeah. That was definite need right there, but it wasn’t enough. “Okay, you want me here.” He pressed against the thick shaft for a moment, then lifted his hand and put it over Ethan’s heart. “Probably even here, too.” Tapping Ethan’s forehead, he said, “But not here.”
Ethan knocked aside his hand. “What does that mean?”
“It means I know you, you crazy bastard.” Jack let Ethan go and got off the table. His dick ached as he rebuttoned his jeans and adjusted himself in search of any relief he could get. Which was scarce. “We’re not secure here. Safe for now, yes, but not secure the way you need to be. If you fucked me right now, you’d regret it afterwards. Like the first time. And forgive me if I don’t want to see that look on your face again.”
One hand on the table edge, Ethan turned away and pressed the heel of his palm to his crotch. “Is that the only reason?”
Jack ground his molars together. “No. Because if I remember correctly, the last time you fucked me into a coma, I woke up alone.”
Ethan jerked like Jack had physically hit him. It felt like a gut punch, hearing Jack so angry, especially moments after they’d been so close to amazing pleasure.
“Just in case you were wondering if it still hurts,” Jack muttered.
Cock deflating, Ethan sighed. “I didn’t have a choice.”
“Aren’t you the one who said there’s always a choice?”
“All right. There was a choice, between you facing down two Cabal assassins with no desire to play games like Two did, or me leaving on my own and doing everything I could to make sure you and your family weren’t hurt.”
Jack pulled his shirt back into alignment and sat at the table. He dipped a piece of melon into the yogurt, contemplated it for a moment, then popped it into his mouth. Around the food, he said, “Yeah, okay. But you came back afterwards, and then left, again.”
“You spoke to Rocco.”
“Of course I did. Do you know how upset he was when his little chat didn’t work? The guy was so worried about you.”
Ethan tried to deflect the words, not let them under his skin, but his armour was in ruins. Had been since he’d let Jack into his life, since he’d begun to believe he could have a real life with him. First Jack, then Short Round, rapidly followed by Rocco. Even Lewis, Jack’s best friend, had started to creep in, during their short acquaintance. He couldn’t bear to think about the hurt he’d caused Jack, because knowing he’d upset Rocco was bad enough.
What else matters?
That’s what Rocco had said to him and it had lingered in his mind the entire time he’d been climbing his way up the bloody ladder towards the heart of the Cabal.
“I did it for them.” The words were out before Ethan knew he was going to say them. Whispered, but the room wasn’t so large Jack didn’t hear him.
“Did what for who?”
“When I left Sydney the second time. It was for my brothers and sisters.” Not wanting to talk across the room, Ethan righted his chair, sat and picked up a bit of fruit. The slippery slice oozed juice down his fingers and suddenly it was the red of blood. He put the fruit back and wiped his hand on a cloth. “You said you spoke to Seven. Did she tell you about the final test they put us through?”
Jack stopped with some pineapple halfway to his mouth. “She mentioned something about a test but didn’t elaborate.”
“Six out of eleven of us failed it. Five of those who failed died during the test. I survived even though I failed.”
“Jesus.” Jack’s hand reached across the table towards him, then stopped before they touched.
Appreciating the consideration, Ethan shifted his own hand until there was only half an inch between their fingers. Close enough he felt the support without risking his instincts.
“Is that why they whipped you?”
Ethan shook his head. “That was for refusing to do a job, eighteen months before the test. I wasn’t punished for this. Perhaps they felt watching five of the others die was enough.”
Jack’s nails scratched across the tabletop as he clenched his hand into a fist. “Seven said there were thirteen of you at the start of the . . . the, ah, experiment.”
“Yes. Only eleven of us survived to the final test. My sister Three died . . .” Ethan swallowed. He’d never spoken any of this aloud before and the words were lodging in his throat.
Jack moved one of the water bottles closer and Ethan took it, drinking half of it in one go. It was cool going down but pooled like acid in his stomach.
“It’s okay,” Jack said. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want.”
“I want to. At least I think I need to. I hurt you and you should know why.”
“Then not now. Not tonight.” He gestured to the bed. “You should rest. I’ll keep watch.”
Ethan shook his head. “You should know this. Three died when I was nine and she was thirteen. We had just learned how to snap a neck in a single move and Ten . . . he wanted to try it on a real person, not a dummy.”
Jack flinched. “And I guess he wasn’t punished for that?”
“He was. It didn’t change him, though. All it did was make the instructors watch him much closer. Two was . . .” Ethan couldn’t finish because it was still very raw. Not that he regretted killing Two—because he didn’t—but the thought that Jack now knew all about him made him a little anxious.
“Was an abusive, deranged psychopath,” Jack finished for him.
The firm tone made the corner of Ethan’s mouth turn up. All of Jack’s disgust was directed at Two, not him, and Ethan knew he could trust that would never change. Jack was stubborn like that. It made talking easier.
“Yes, he was all that, but he was also capable of hiding it. Very well.” Well enough he fooled a trained profiler. “Ten’s not like that. He could never fake it, probably thinks that there is absolutely no reason to. Two only saw targets when he looked at other people. Ten doesn’t even see that. He sees animals. Ants. We’re nothing but events to him.” The old gunshot wound in his shoulder ached. Touching it, he confessed, “This scar is from him. We’d just finished a job, and we’d disagreed over a small matter. Afterwards, he shot me. Not because I’d argued, but simply because he could. Because he wanted to.”
Jack’s mouth opened, but it seemed he didn’t have a curse powerful enough to express the rage in his eyes, because he closed it again, jaw clenched.
“Ten is the man from today.”
“God damn that fucking piece of—”
Ethan grabbed his hand, holding him back from doing the stupid, angry thing that was growing in his eyes. “Jack, don’t. He’s gone. You can’t do anything about him now.”
“Yeah.” Jack closed his eyes and breathed deep. “But when I do catch the fucking arsehole . . .”
The promise in the unsaid words both warmed Ethan and left him cold. Jack was one of the best soldiers he had ever encountered, but the thought of him going up against Ten made the food in Ethan’s stomach curdle.
“I believed he was dead in the helicopter crash,” Ethan continued. “Apparently, he escaped.”
“We found an African man in the wreck. That was . . . Four?”
“Yes. I killed him. I had to do it, otherwise they would have killed me first.” Ethan delayed the next words with another drink. Jack sat patiently while he finished the bottle. “Sixteen years ago, during that final
test, I wanted to die. Three months ago, I couldn’t let them do that, not this time. Back then, all I had was what the Cabal had given me and I didn’t want it. Now, I have so much else. I’ve learned to live with what I do. I have ways of escaping it when I can. I have you. Don’t I?”
Jack nodded emphatically and turned his hand over in Ethan’s to squeeze it comfortingly.
“When I first agreed to live with you, I worried that I was becoming too dependent on you to give me the life I wanted. What I failed to consider was that I already knew how get it, I just needed the courage to take it. You gave me that courage, Jack. You showed me it was possible and now I want it so much more.”
“Then why throw that away with this crazy scheme to kill the Cabal one by one? You got away from the others in the chopper crash. You came home. You were right there, and then you left again.” Jack’s anger was bubbling to the surface again, his hold on Ethan’s hand tightening. “Jesus, Ethan. The worst of it was over. You know if you’d come to me, told me everything, we could have worked something else out. Together.”
Ethan was shaking his head from halfway through Jack’s speech. “No. You don’t understand. If I’d gone back, and if the Office had agreed to go after the Cabal, they would have done it for their own reasons. I need to kill the Cabal, and they need to know why they’re dying. They took thirteen lives, Jack, and destroyed them. Thirteen children who could have grown up to be anything they wanted, and they broke them into pieces and rebuilt them into monsters. I don’t care how many important elections they’ve influenced, or how many peacemakers they’ve had killed. I don’t care that they could overthrow half of Africa and South America on a whim. They’re going to die because of what they did to my sisters and brothers.”
In the silence that followed, their gazes locked and, perhaps for the first time, Jack seemed to fully see him.
Jack had always been able to look past the cold-hearted killer façade and see who Ethan really was underneath. He’d always been able to touch that hidden part of him, coax it out and nurture it. Now, he was seeing the whole of him. Understanding that the façade was an integral part of Ethan as well.
Quietly, Jack said, “Seven said she’d always known you would one day destroy the Cabal.”
Ethan pulled in a sharp breath and stood, fight or scramble instincts surging. Seven had shown surprising insight into Jack’s emotional state several months ago, but to find out she’d been more aware of Ethan’s own feelings than he had been sent him reeling. Sent him right back to those sessions with the Doctor, where all of his thoughts and feelings would be discussed to the gentle clink of a teacup on a saucer. Reminded him how the Doctor had seemed to be able to read his mind and tell him what he thought without Paul or One-three having to say a word.
“Ethan? Hey, you okay?” Jack came around the table slowly, hand out as if gentling a skittish animal. “I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry.”
Ethan shook his head. It wasn’t Jack’s fault. It wasn’t Seven’s, either.
“I think you need to rest. Why don’t you lie down and I’ll keep watch? I promise.”
Not that he felt he could sleep at all, but Ethan agreed because it seemed the easiest way to stop talking about his past, and his present. He took off his leather jacket and lay down on the mattress. The USP he put next to his hand, ready to be picked up on a split-second’s notice.
Jack watched it all with a concerned frown, then with a sigh, he sat down on the mattress. Back to the wall, long legs stretched out, he put his own gun on his lap, and picked up Ethan’s hand and rested it on his thigh. “So you know I’m here.”
Some of the tension melted out of Ethan’s body and he nodded against the thin pillow. He ran through a meditation technique and dropped into a light sleep.
He woke when the firm thigh slid out from under his hand as Jack stood, tucking the gun into the back of his jeans before walking towards the hole in the floor. Sensing no alarm in the movement, Ethan simply rested his hand on his own gun and watched through half-lidded eyes. Jack crouched by the hole and whispered. After a moment, the landlady’s head appeared and they talked softly for a minute, then she disappeared again.
Ethan sat up when Jack came back. “What’s happening?”
“Balwinder just wanted to let us know the cops have been seen on the roads around this area but haven’t gotten this far yet. We’ll be safe here for the rest of the night at least. How do you feel?” He sat back down and left his hand on the mattress between them, an invitation and nothing more.
“A bit more refreshed.” Ethan took Jack’s hand in his. “Why do we need to hide from the police if you’re here officially?”
Jack chuckled. “I said I was here sort of officially. In that this is an Office sanctioned job, but the Indian government isn’t aware of it. Relations between Australia and India are not smooth right now.”
“Why not?”
“Well, we were both otherwise occupied at the time, but an Aussie politician, Grant Owen, was arrested by the federal police for conspiring against the commonwealth. It seems he made a deal with parties as yet unknown for information our government would have preferred to keep secret. Namely the super secret SAS mission in Jharkhand eight years ago.”
Oh dear. Ethan closed his eyes and hoped this wasn’t what he thought it was.
“Anyway, somehow the deputy PM got hold of the information after Owen was arrested and started making threats about releasing it if the current PM didn’t stand down. The PM, of course, refused, thinking Nelson wouldn’t spill the information.”
Sinking feeling in his stomach, Ethan said, “I guess he was wrong.”
“So wrong. Now the Indian government is in damage control, because it was a Meta-State operation and not something they can admit to. So things are rather tense at the moment and we have to be very careful about crossing lines. I’m here because I have a legitimate Overseas Citizen of India card.”
“Which won’t count for much if they also find out you were there in Jharkhand.”
“Exactly. Thus, no police.” Jack tugged Ethan back to lying, going with him. “We’ve got a couple of hours until dawn. We’ll make a new plan of attack then.”
Ethan rolled over and kissed Jack’s check. “Thank you, Jack.” Then he settled down to sleep again.
When Jack awoke he was alone.
A note left by his head said, Gone for water. Back soon.
“Jesus.” He rolled to his feet, stretching to work out some of the kinks of sleeping on an old, lumpy mattress. He tucked the USP into the back of his jeans, slung on his leather jacket and went to find Ethan.
The halls of the building were busier in the morning hours, filled with kids rushing from room to room and adults hustling out to get to work. Jack got a few curious looks but that was all. Outside, there was a line up of old men on the chairs.
He held his hands in a prayer pose and bowed his head. “Namaste.”
There were several “namastes” in return and they happily directed him around the corner when he asked where the white man had gone.
There was an open field behind the building, mostly dirt and a few hardy weeds. Junk lined the edges—discarded sheets of tin, curls of wire, rotting wooden planks. In the middle of the field a bunch of kids had set up a pitch with a garbage can for a wicket. The fielding team had an average age of nine, some in school uniforms, and they were all yelling clashing advice in a mix of Marathi and English. The bowler rubbed a red ball on her pants and scuffed a bare foot in the dirt. She took a short run up and bowled.
At the wicket, Ethan swung his bat and the ball cracked against the wood. It flew out over the field and every member of the fielding team pelted after it, screaming and laughing as it hit the wall of the building.
Ethan dropped the bat and held up his hands in a victory sign. “That’s a six.”
He got a chorus of “no way” and “you cheated,” which only made him laugh.
He was so beautiful Jack had to physi
cally stop himself from rushing over and hugging him. Leaning against the wall he watched as the ball was retrieved and play started again. Ethan scored several more sixes until he was bowled out with a ringing hit against the garbage can. He was escorted off the field by several small brown hands pushing and pulling at him. Only when he was firmly set against the wall beside Jack did the team return to the game.
“Namaste, Jack,” Ethan murmured.
Jack smirked. “Bowled out by a nine year old.”
“I’m out of practice.” He looked over. “What is that smile for?”
“Nothing. It’s just a nice morning.”
“It’s not bad.”
“Weren’t you supposed to be getting water for showering?”
“I got called up.”
Laughing, Jack dragged him away from the cricket field and they found water a couple of alleys over. Rather than cart buckets back to their room, they stripped to their underwear and poured water over themselves right alongside other men doing the same. Jack couldn’t help but watch Ethan’s lithe body as he sluiced water over his head, and it wasn’t for the usual, lusty reasons.
Ethan had always been lean, taut skin over perfect musculature. Over the past months his muscles had gotten harder and his collarbones and hips were more defined, jutting out sharply. He’d been skipping meals or subsisting on protein alone. Jack should have fed him more of the dal and fruit the night before.
Dried and clothed, they went by a market stall and picked up a breakfast of grilled vegetable sandwiches, along with samosas, batata vadas and chutney. Back in their room, after breakfast, Ethan leaned over and kissed him, then started gathering their small amount of gear. It had been a small gesture, but natural and felt like they were getting over the anger and betrayal. Ready to go, Jack stopped when a familiar word started bouncing around the lower stories, loud enough for him to hear it.
Police.
“Not that way,” Jack whispered, backing away from the hole in the floor.
When Death Frees the Devil Page 20
