Backlash

by Jack L. Pyke

  Making sure the coffee found a home with Sue and thanking her for the offer, he went through first, then waited for Jack to lead the way up to his office.

  Maybe he expected more, but this place, Jack’s office as he entered, it wasn’t what he expected. He’d thought... bigger, better, especially considering whose silk sheets Jack supposedly warmed, but the company was modest at best. None of Raoul’s arrogance that he’d heard about was here, no ego, just a heavy tiredness in grey eyes that worked for an honest pay packet.

  So all of that shit, just for your look?

  Jack didn’t take a seat, instead resting against the window sill and crossing his arms. His look was half distracted outside, yet he seemed to know the exact place of everything in his office, or what was out of place, especially men who shouldn’t be in here.

  But by not looking, guilt was there in his eyes too. And that was what Logan needed to see.

  “I’m busy, Logan,” said Jack. “You want to make this quick?”

  Logan snorted a smile and went a little closer to Jack’s office desk. “Yeah. It wasn’t made quick for my father, Jack. Did you get to hear about that?”

  Jack looked at him. “Your old man died?” The confusion made Logan stumble in his thoughts seeing it. “My deepest condolences to you, yours, and all that bollocks.”

  Logan kept his eyes on that black Merc outside, then checked his watch. He was surprised Raoul hadn’t shown up yet. “My father,” he said quickly, quietly, going around the office desk to Jack. “He had a bullet through his forehead.” Logan eased a finger up and pushed at Jack’s forehead, forcing Jack to twist his head away, then level a very cool gaze back on him. That look, Logan needed it, needed to see it. “He’d had his dick exposed and his balls had been burned.”

  No reaction.

  Logan shifted slightly. “After he was tied to a chair, a lighter had been held against his side and it had burned the skin. He was fucking tortured, Jack.”

  The occupants in the black Merc outside never moved. It riled Logan. He expected Raoul here. He’d wanted Raoul... here.

  “His own home.” Logan was close enough to breathe in Jack’s face, disturb that long black hair nearly covering his eyes. He smelled so good. “And you...”

  Jack dug his hands into his pockets, but didn’t shift that gaze.

  “I know it wasn’t you,” whispered Logan. “You’re no fucking killer, Jack. A thug, yeah, but no killer. How my father was taken out.” Logan screwed his face, biting back his tears. He’d never spent much time with his father; always some issue at the night club, some bird or guy to try and fuck. Just not enough time to sit and talk. “They called it a professional hit. Why the fuck would anyone put a hit out on my father? He—”

  “We done?”

  Logan grabbed Jack by the throat, pushing him back into the wall. Jack jolted and the reaction cooled Logan, but only for a minute when he was left grabbing nothing but air as Jack shoved him off.

  There was no aggression there in Jack’s body language and the look in grey eyes didn’t call him out on trying anything else. What was there unsettled Logan more; a confidence over knowing Logan would hit the floor first if Logan made another move. The thrill it caused confused the hell out of Logan, and he took a step back and said as calmly as possible, “That fuck of an MI5 officer you know. He knows something. I was told he knows... everything.”

  “Brennan?”

  “What?” said Logan, feeling as confused as Jack looked now.

  “Brennan,” said Jack. “Wasn’t he leading the murder investigation from CID? It was all over the news.”

  “No,” replied Logan, frowning. Something about Jack’s look said he knew exactly who was investigating what. Maybe. “You, he... Raoul. Gray Raoul from MI5. I was told—”

  “Wrong,” said Jack, levelling his gaze as a knock came at the door. “Come in.” Jack didn’t take his gaze off Logan. “Shaun Brennan is leading the investigation as far as I know. Now get the fuck out and take your shit over to him.”

  Logan eased back as a young lad, looking young enough to be on work placement, came in.

  “Coffee, Mr H?” said the blond, and Logan took a step away as he came over, not carrying any coffee. “And isn’t it time your client... fucked off? Your dog died, again. You’re needed elsewhere.”

  “Thanks, Sam. And yes it is. Thanks for the reminder,” said Jack. Logan caught the look off “Sam,” how he seemed to make a point of looking over, then folded his arms.

  “Well fuck off, then,” said Jack.

  Logan slipped a look at Jack, then Sam. “Thanks for agreeing to look at my Jag, Jack. But I think I’ll take it elsewhere.”

  “Good idea.” Jack’s hand shook a little and Logan nodded, satisfied. He needed that to get back to Raoul where his own lawyers had failed. Jack’s look seemed genuine enough, but Kes... he trusted him. And if he could get Raoul to slip up, even if it meant going through this Jack, he would.

  “Talk in a few hours,” said Logan, turning away after a smile. “You keep well, Jack.”

  Logan made a point of closing the door behind him. It was a letdown that Raoul hadn’t come as Kes’s phone call this morning had hinted he would, but Jack...

  Get at Jack, then get at the nutcase who had killed his father.

  Gray sat in his Rolls, watching as Logan walked away from the garage, his umbrella tossed to one side and hood pulled back as the rain hit him. A Sedan pulled up at the entrance to the car park, the move bold as balls, and a check saw it to belong to one of Logan’s bouncers at his club. Logan added to the boldness by striding over to it and glancing back. He was nothing like his father, Ryan Keal. Keal offered the perfect deception to his night life: the grandfather to cling onto before he sold you off to the highest bidder. Logan held no deception. Legs were long, the sort used to mounting Harleys. Jeans were tight, calling out a look Gray would usually consider testing at the MC. Jack had been right; when they’d all came back from America, he’d said Logan was the looker in the family. Logan was also as oblivious as Jack as to just what went down away from the bed sheets.

  Guilt almost—almost—crept up as Gray ran a hand over the steering wheel. Touching the bad, there were always those in the background who were caught in the backlash. Logan was after a reason behind why his father was murdered. A son needing release over a father, with someone pushing for it.

  He looked at the garage as the Sedan pulled away.

  Guilt only went so far when it came to what was in there.

  Gray eyed up the rain, how heavy it fell. The repair truck took his attention, too, how the recovery man was oblivious to how he’d been played. Ray had done his job by checking the plates; they’d checked out, but only to the point where a name and address was given. A deeper check easily saw the forgery.

  Sloppy in planning. Or maybe not.

  Someone was pushing Logan to find a breaking point, digging deep into old wounds and bleeding out the hurt.

  Gray eased out of the car.

  Gray’s culling signature could have been recognised by anyone who knew the business, but now Logan had been told that Jack was involved. And the only ones left to talk about Jack and Jan’s rape and psychological reconditioning were those who had funded it. Which meant those who had pushed for SSTP’s investigation came with a rapist’s touch.

  Turning his collar up to the wind and rain, Gray didn’t acknowledge Ray over in the black Merc, but headed over to the garage and pushed inside. Sue wasn’t there, and he got a look up from Aid. The man didn’t like him, but that was okay. That kept people wary when they needed to be. It showed as Aid eased up out of his chair and nodded toward the shop floor. Ray hadn’t been the only one to call Gray this afternoon.

  Gray tipped his head. After shifting past the other busy mechanics, he stopped Jack by easing a grip around the top of Jack’s arm and pulling him up to his feet. Sam worked by him and gave a look up as Jack jerked back.

  “Upstairs,” said Gray.

&nbs
p; Jack wiped at his cheek, leaving a smear of grease, then moved over to wash his hands. Gray watched, just... waited as it took three turns with the Antibacterial hand wash.

  Jack glanced back as he dried his hands. “No. Not upstairs. Out,” he said, and Gray frowned as he watched Jack throw the towel on the unit and head toward reception. Jack was slipping on his jacket by the time Gray got there, and he caught Jack’s last words to Aid.

  “You sure you’re fine shutting up shop?”

  “We’ve been fine for the past six months, Jack,” said Aid. “Steve’s over at the Strachan garage, working with that Paul from your dad’s garage. They gave the manager that position on the proviso that he flirt between both garages when needed.”

  Jack offered a smile, but it wasn’t easy. “Okay, good.”

  “C’mon, we’re going.” Gray went over to the door and held it open. Jack didn’t seem to need telling twice, and that run with being told to do something was more concerning than seeing his usual kickback against authority.

  “No worries,” said Aid, already going over to the phone. Gray knew he’d get a call from Greg in a while because of it.

  Jack was already out of the door and heading over to the Rolls. Gray joined him and made sure Jack took the passenger seat. Gray’s look around the car park was long as he held the door open. There was no doubt on being watched now.

  The driver’s side took him, and Gray pulled the door shut and started the engine.

  “Talk to me, Jack,” he said as he pulled away. “You gave the sign to hold off. You gave Ray the sign for me to hold off when I got here.” Gray knew why. He’d bugged Jack’s office long before he started back, but he’d never tell Jack that. This was for his protection, as was Jan’s at his office.

  Jack ran a hand through his wet hair and Gray caught how it shook. He flicked a switch, making sure the heat took away the chill of the air and the drowned rat look of Jack.

  Did you look like this that night it had been snowing? When you walked and Jan had picked you up by the side of the road, had you fought to stay warm then, stunner? And after... how much did you both shiver when you were alone and hurting?

  Gray fought the need to be sick.

  “Someone fed Logan information that we knew each other.” Jack blew into his hands. “If they had definite evidence, he wouldn’t have been there with me. You know why I told you to hold off, Gray.”

  Smart, fucking smart. “He made a definitive mention about outside sources?”

  Jack nodded. “He said he had a call this morning, or someone had called him, at least.” Jack rubbed at his head.

  Gray looked at him. “You okay?”

  He snorted a smile, but it faltered too quickly.

  “He touch you?”

  “I’m not a fucking ponce, Gray.” The anger was there as Jack glanced at him. “I can handle a roughing up.”

  “He fucking touched you.”

  “I can—” Whatever kickback Jack was coming up with faded as he eased back into his seat and gave an unsteady breath. Twice now he’d cut off his own anger, twice now he’d cooled it, took a step back, and—“Scared, alright? Enough that I just.” He shrugged, then—“I want things shutting down for a few hours, is all.”

  “Okay.” Not a problem.

  “Why now?” said Jack, looking over. Then he glanced in the rear-view mirror, to the black Merc keeping the Rolls company. “What do you know that you’re not telling me, Gray?”

  Gray tensed slightly. “Some encrypted codes were discovered in your mother’s paperwork,” he said keeping his voice even. “A few days ago, Logan tried to open up the investigation into Ryan Keal’s death.”

  “Officially through MI5?”

  Gray nodded and Jack gave an unsteady exhale. “It was sorted,” Gray added.

  “Enough for Logan to come after me to get to you.” It was a simple statement, no resentment there, just concern, and that dug into Gray more.

  “Yeah. I know that look, mukka,” said Jack, and a hand rested distractedly on Gray’s thigh. “You can’t touch Logan for this now, not without helping to point bloodied fingers in your direction.” Jack fell quiet. “But you mentioned these codes.... You think it’s more to do with that than taking you down?”

  “Maybe.” He wasn’t exactly sure, other than running with gut instinct over this starting after Elena was taken. And he knew Jack watched him now.

  “I know my mother, how she doesn’t leave important information around when it comes to paperwork. How did you get the codes, Gray? When did you get them?”

  He’d always swore that if Jack asked, he’d tell him, and—“Look, Jack—”

  “You know what? I really don’t give a fuck.” And it was there as he focused on the traffic ahead. “The shit bowl is always easier to clean once it’s been flushed. You don’t need to know who’s sat and caused the stench.” He frowned back at Gray. “Jan—”

  “He needs to know, I know,” said Gray. “He was due at the garage for lunch in half an hour, so I’ve asked security to take him home instead, but not put any undue stress on him with any explanation other than having dinner at home.”

  “Has he had any trouble off Logan?”

  “You’d have heard, Jack.”

  “Yeah. Just... I need to see he’s okay, all right? My home, though.”

  “Yours?”

  Gray got a nod. “Can you let security know?”

  Doing just that, Gray then took a right at the lights, easing off on the clutch when Jack tensed at his more aggressive nudge into heavy traffic.

  “Fuck.”

  Gray offered a smile, then let his hand rest on Jack’s as he squeezed Gray’s thigh enough to cause a wince. For a man who loved cars so much, and who’d pocket the keys to a stray one here and there, Jack was a by-the-book driver. “Certificates,” said Gray, shifting gear. “I get them for advanced MI5 driving courses.”

  “They do refresher course?”

  “Continuously.”

  “Good,” said Jack, “because if you get any closer to that car in front, the driver’ll be sticking up a sign asking you to climb up through the back window and give him head before you fuck him up the ass, is all.”

  Gray managed a chuckle. “You could have just asked me to slow down.”

  Jack’s knuckles were white as he gripped Gray’s thigh, and Gray took the hint and eased off the gas.

  Chapter 12

  Licking Old Wounds

  Gray had been to Jack’s apartment four times now. Three of them Jack knew about, the other, he didn’t. The apartment kept a good vantage point of the London scene by sitting at the top of the apartment building. It wasn’t exactly a penthouse, but then Jack wouldn’t have come here if it was.

  Gray took his long coat off and slipped it over the back of the dining chair before pulling out his mobile. He had already had equipment installed that made sure all calls from here couldn’t be overheard and traced. Gray let his phone ring three times, then cut the call.

  A reply came a few minutes later. “I’m clear to talk,” said Andrews. No “sir” came from his end, but this wasn’t an official call.

  “Reignfold’s client, Logan Keal, made threats to a witness today. This started after 639’s paperwork was retrieved two months ago.”

  “There’s a definitive connection between Keal and the encryption codes?”

  “I won’t know for sure until their source is traced and we know what they stand for, but Reignfold has witness names known only to those who were involved in 639’s activity. Also Logan’s involvement and setting up meetings with lawyers and SSTP would have taken well over a month to arrange. I need to know who gave him my name.”

  “I’m matching the codes through MI5’s database. But they were juxtaposed on file. It’s taking time, so too is tracing if these codes were originally on 639’s hard drive. I’ve also been following Reignfold for the past few days but all communication and meetings had been with traceable sources. Whoever gave Logan Keal you
r name must have been contacted prior to the meeting, with nothing else since.”

  “Still keep tabs on him. I put a trace on Logan’s phone activity just after the meeting, but he could be using another Pay as You Go number from a different address. Whoever is behind him will no doubt suspect surveillance, so do this via tech only. Get Mike involved.” Mike was ex-A-Branch, tech support for MI5, and although tied more to the MC, he came in for business outside of MI5. “I’m available only by phone for the rest of today.”

  “Understood. I’ve got an idea on the computer that I need to run by Mike anyway.”

  “Good. Get on to it.” Gray cut the call, distracted as he looked around. Gone was Jack’s semi-detached home in a shoulder-straight line of terraced houses, and Gray sniffed, almost missing the familiarity of the old place as much as Jack.

  The two-bedroom apartment spoke of Jan’s class and managed to ground Gray. Jan had kept it simple: laminate flooring throughout, white walls, everything given its place and following Jack’s OCD flawlessness, including antibacterial hand wash in every living space. A painting had been given a home on the main feature wall in the lounge: an engine taken from a classic Jag. It spoke of both of them: Jack’s love of cars, Jan’s love of art.

  The lounge didn’t interest Gray now. He had schematics of every room, accommodating for most access points, including the windows and access to the loft above. He’d had to compromise on CCTV installation. The first night they’d stood here after Jack had been released from the psychiatric unit, Jack had gone quiet over the mention of surveillance equipment being installed in every room. Gray had backed off knowing where Jack’s head had taken him. Jan had found security in having the cameras installed at his, although he’d requested cameras that had no red lights to show the connection was live. They’d both been filmed during the rape and torture, with movements watched doing the most basic needs, washing, showering... Cameras had pretty much been a part of Jack’s life up until his kidnap; the MC scenes needing the CCTV surveillance to make sure a sub’s safety was always primary focus. Even that had been twisted.