by Jack L. Pyke
Logan glanced at the gun, then almost overstepped the line by trying to glance back at Andrews. It earned him a cuff up the ear and a clear warning where his attention was supposed to stay focused. Andrews wasn’t to be seen.
“But you get the closure on why your father was killed, who did it and why.”
“There’s no proof that my father was behind... behind that shit.” He pointed at the laptop. “What... please... what fucking proof is there that my father would do... that?”
Gray folded his arms and gave a hard sigh as he looked down. “You’re looking for reasons not to believe, Logan, you’re not asking for evidence to prove his guilt. Jack’s gay, though Martin, he also caused some serious grief for your father via Martin. Listen to why you’ve never told your father of your interest in men.”
Logan looked at the gun, now rubbing at his wrists, giving a wince over the bandage that wrapped his hand.
“You’ll need to get that stitched at hospital.”
He went to speak, then looked away, back at the table and where the blindfold lay. Logan offered it blindly back to Andrews.
“Tell him I’m sorry,” said Logan. “Martin...”
“Jack.”
Logan nodded. “Jack.... I didn’t.... I just wanted to know who....” His face screwed as he looked toward the kitchen door. “Know who.” He glanced back at Gray. “The contact is always via text. The messenger goes by the name of Kes.”
Gray stayed where he was.
“Kes,” repeated Logan. “He knew you. Mentioned your name specifically.” Logan made to pull something from his jean pocket. Andrews stopped him, instead fishing around in his pockets for him and pulling out Logan’s phone.
“Check whatever you need to.” Logan looked really sick as Andrews handed the phone to Gray. “I was sent that via the post. I still have the packaging, but I already checked for a post mark and return address and found nothing.”
Gray glanced at Andrews and Andrews nodded. He’d get that off Logan.
“No doubt you’ll be able to get access to any phone records and...” Logan rubbed at his head. “My dad... he...” That serious frown. “Fuck. I didn’t want to know this.”
Gray gave a short nod to Andrews, and Logan stayed still as he was blindfolded again.
“You give me your word nothing will happen to me once I walk out of that door with this blindfold on?”
“You have my word,” said Gray.
“And if... if Kes tries to get in touch again? What do I say?”
Gray was thumbing through some of the messages. He rested on the very last one.
Good evening, Mr Raoul. A pleasure to meet you. May I have the two codes that Mrs Fortello wasn’t able to list down?
“He won’t contact you. He’s contacted who he wanted.” Gray set his jaw tensing.
Codes not on the list?
And you may call me Kes.
He had a name now too. Gray caught the second message. But missing codes? This “Kes” thought he had the intelligence close to hand to find the rest of the list.
You have 72 hours, Mr Raoul. At which point I will contact you again. Take care of Jack and Jan in the meantime.
A photo came through at the end of the message.
Hands bound behind his back, Jan was caught curled up close to the toilet in Jack’s makeshift en suite. Vince stood close by, his back to the camera in the screen shot that was captured, but his piss stream was caught bouncing off the toilet. A few stray specks showered Jan’s face as Jan kept his head forced into the floor tile.
This wasn’t the branding scene that Elena had sent through the post, this was unseen footage. Vince’s daily routine where he’d stripped and washed Jan after Henry had forced his cock down his throat.
Gray buried a groan.
There was no doubt about the connection now.
One photo per day until I have those codes. Then the photos will be sent to Jack and Jan. Have their cries stopped yet, Mr Raoul? Do I need to hold them again?
Logan took a deep breath, oblivious to what was being said, then he took a few unsteady steps towards the door before Andrews grabbed his arm and guided him the rest of the way.
Gray heard them head towards the back garden gates. Andrews would have pulled around back, giving them enough cover. He even heard the doors close on the unmarked sedan, and it wasn’t until the engine started that Gray moved back over to the table.
Have their cries stopped yet, Mr Raoul?
The gun remained within reach, and Gray lost track of how long he sat there staring at it.
Their cries....
Jan’s twist of head away from the piss stream came up.
... Call me Kes.
Giving a snarl, Gray upended the table, sending the laptop and firearm onto hard tile. “Mine, they’re fucking mine, not yours.” Although the picture of Jan denied every cry, never allowing him to crawl to safety because the picture locked Jan there, but it locked Gray there too. On the outside looking in at the devastation. Never to get close.
Resting his head back against the doorframe, Gray closed his eyes. There were no bugs here. Andrews would have been through the place. That also went for devices that could pick up anyone who might be listening in from an external source. Kes knew what hurt and what reactions it would bring. And all it needed was a picture.
And for what? The remainder of a set of codes that Elena had stumbled across? And just how did Kes know she had them?
His own phone kicked in a moment later and Gray stiffened.
Sue mae?
T.
I got tired of waiting for you to call.
Gray stared at the message on his own phone for a long time.
Have their cries stopped yet, Mr Raoul? Do I need to hold them again?
Giving a wipe at his face, he thumbed in a number and waited for the ring tone. It was picked up a moment later.
“A call?” Trace fell quiet, then a little more serious—“What help do you need? When do you need it?”
Gray managed a smile, albeit one that tore at his stomach.
Chapter 19
Dom to Sub
Gray sat back against the headboard, his laptop resting on his legs, the bed covers offering a warmth he should have felt. Soft voices drifted by sometimes. Jan’s... Craig’s. Jan showed Craig around the manor after Craig agreed to stay the night, on fifteen-minute obs with Jack. Jan hadn’t slept since they’d come back. He also hadn’t been into the bedroom since they’d brought Jack in here.
The business over Logan had taken two hours or so. Sleep should have come after that, but the dark hours were mostly spent catching up with work that didn’t need doing, not right at that moment. Distraction. His whole life centred around distraction and waiting lately.
Jack lay on his back next to him, facing away towards the window. With the help of Craig, Jan had managed to undress him and slip him into pyjama bottoms. It was the first time for Jan handling Jack in a sedated state, but it wasn’t Gray’s. They’d had many a scene with the MC where the Dom had needed Jack a little less compos mentis, where security would be even tighter because of it. But besides that, he’d also handled Jack like this in his late teens, when Jack had walked back then. It never got any easier. Even when the times were normal, and Jack breezed through life with that wild smile of his and no concerns in tow, there was always... this. The darker... what if he slips?
Gray understood Jan’s concerns, his fears, and a hand drifted over his own hip.
Jack wasn’t asleep. He’d come out of the sedative a good ten minutes ago, but he lay there staring out of the window. Occasionally, he’d move to wipe the hair out of his eyes, but even that had been just the briefest of Jack’s own... distractions.
Gray didn’t push for any conversation. Bones ached deep, with the need to fall back to sleep fighting the need to stay awake and make sure the front door stayed locked with Jack here next to him.
And with Jack’s lonely movement, Logan’s mobile phone bu
zzed in the drawer next to Gray’s bed, but he kept his head turned away from any images it might throw up.
Jack still stared out of the window, breathing barely detectable. Maybe a sign the sedative still clung on to the edges, or maybe just a will not to be seen, to not move with the world just yet.
Gray could imagine the thoughts he must be going through. The fears over waking up and feeling disorientated enough from the sedative to question whether Craig had been true to his word, and made sure he’d made it home. The fear over whether Craig had even been real. And just what did he remember?
The next slight movement off Jack was to wipe at his eyes again. This time hair wasn’t the distraction, just quiet grief.
Reading through the frequency hits on Kes as a name and initial via the MI5 database, Gray let his hand stray onto Jack’s hip. He knew Jack, how he’d come around under his own steam. Yet the moment Gray’s hand touched down, Jack shifted, curling onto his side, into Gray, and letting his hand slip under the laptop and the sheets, all to seek out Gray’s waist and hold tightly.
Gray still wore his suit trousers, but a grey sleeveless V-shirt kept him decent. Jack snuck his free arm behind Gray, then pulled his body so close up to Gray’s side. For a moment there was nothing but warm breath seeping into the material at his hip, then the gentlest brush of nose, then cheek, at the hidden skin. Gray screwed his face slightly, feeling the private request for contact, and despite all of the bad thoughts that threatened, the most natural instinct to answer chased the shadows away.
He brought his arm across Jack’s, almost helping to keep him holding on, and stroked his thumb gently at the back of Jack’s hand.
Words could make the best burn, so this silent layer existed between them, where the quietest of touches were used when speaking came with a risk of feeding the flame. Gray sought to feed from the words people spoke, twist them until he broke them into silence. Martin could easily do the same. Yet Jack... his silence spoke worlds when the world came tumbling down and that ability to reach out calmed everything in Gray.
“I’ve been thinking of getting a tattoo.” Jack rested his head flat on Gray’s upper thigh, and Gray frowned down at him.
“A tattoo? Where the hell did that come from?” Gray briefly glanced down.
“Hm,” said Jack, his leg slipping over Gray’s, and the sleep-fuelled heat of his body almost chased away the deep ache in his own tired bones. “My hip.” Jack shifted, almost as if in discomfort. Gray made a mental note to check his hip later. “I was thinking,” mumbled Jack, now resting his chin down and giving a sniff, “if I’m gonna be marked, I need to be marked the right way. By who matters most.”
Gray closed the one file he was working on due to the classification, opened another, then looked down at Jack again.
“A tattoo?” he found to add to that, then softened his look as Jack gave a soft kiss at his hip.
“I was looking through some sites a few days back at work. Sam was thinking of getting one, then cried out when he saw how many needles went into a tattoo machine. I’m thinking of getting one and keeping it in my office to keep the little shit out.”
Gray laughed. But he noted this also wasn’t a spur of the moment decision.
“I saw two gorgeous designs and thought about combining the two.” Another nuzzle against Gray’s hip had Gray shivering a touch. “One was a blue moon rose. I always associate soft lad to that.” He fell quiet for a moment. “The other was a silver collar.”
Jack rested his head down again, cheek to hip. “I’d love the collar to wind like a vine up and around the blue moon rose,” he said eventually.
“Do you know blue moon roses don’t actually exist?” said Gray. “It’s the way the light catches the petal that gives it a blue appearance.”
“Sounds about right. Some things need catching and keeping in the right light to bring out their colour...”
Again Jack fell quiet, his slight shift of body rubbing his cock against Gray’s leg. Nothing sexual, just the need to stay close.
“Can scarred tissue be tattooed over? It wouldn’t be fucked up any more?” Jack almost sounded tired again, and his quiet after he spoke almost had Gray checking if the sedative had claimed him again. But then drifts of voices from the hall could be heard moving away and Jack seemed to still, listening and deciphering each one. Seemed he’d spent a lifetime of listening outside doors as people talked about him.
“Logan okay?” Jack said eventually, and Gray flicked a look at the bedroom door.
“He’ll get there. He won’t come near you again.”
Jack wiped at his nose. “Was there any rape involved?”
Gray instantly frowned down at Jack. “Martin’s never been about rape, Jack. His psychological profile pisses over force.” He snorted slightly. “More damage and shame to be had if there’s agreement to what he conjures between the sheets.”
“How much shame was Logan put through?”
Gray didn’t linger over it. “You wore a condom.”
The grip around Gray tightened and Jack dipped his head. “I wouldn’t cheat on you. You fucking know that, right?”
Gray brushed a touch at his arm. “I know Martin,” he said quietly. “No judgements, Jack, You’re polar opposites. You’ve had a blood test, though.”
Jack stilled. “Why?”
“Blood was mixed on a blade.” Gray’s hand fell back down on the hold around his waist. “Logan fuelled it last night. He needed you kept there. He just didn’t realise Martin knocked on his father’s door, not you.”
“Shit.” Jack dipped his head, his breath very shaky. “Jan okay?” Jan had no doubt been foremost on his mind, but usually what hurt most took the longest to vocalise. “You?”
Gray looked down on him again. “Let it go, stunner. We’re doing fine.”
“Yeah, because the director of MI5’s G-Branch can always be found in bed having a lie-in.” It looked like Jan and Jack had found some subjects to talk about. Then Jack found the laptop. “What are you doing at this shit hour of a morning anyway?”
“Afternoon,” said Gray, and he tapped the digital clock on his laptop. Jack gave a tired yawn, then settled back down by Gray as if to catch more exhaustion.
“And?” he said, voice heavy and sleep filled. “Is it something MI5 won’t peel my balls for if you talk about it? I know the place is bugged, no doubt my ass now, so....”
Gray gave a heavy sigh and closed the lid before resting the laptop on the bedside unit. “Something... it’s something I should have told you about a few months back. And Jan. More so you.” He rubbed at his head.
“Yeah?” Jack cuddled in closer.
“I handed my notice into the MC.”
Jack eased up slowly onto his elbow, now eye-level with Gray. “Say that again.”
“You heard.” Gray looked at him.
“Yeah, I fucking heard. Now say it again in any way that doesn’t include the shit you just spoke.”
Yeah, the anger there was understandable. Jack pulled back. “When?” Then his gaze settled into something else entirely. “What th’fuck for?”
Pulling his legs up and resting an arm across them, Gray wiped at his eyes. “Everything you said last night, and more.”
Jack eased off the bed, then grabbed a T-shirt from the drawers. “What I said last night—” He tugged the shirt over his head. “—was on the back of that fuck. It was bullshit, meant to get at you, meant to fucking hurt. And it has.”
Gray stood and took hold of Jack’s wrist as he passed by, trying to head for the door. There was a pull to get away, to not be seen, but Gray backed him up a step, causing Jack to groan as Gray forced his arms down.
“Your fucking lifestyle, Gray.” An angered tear fell. “Your—” He gave a snarl. “—your fucking life.”
Gray pressed in close, now cupping his face. “Fuck-ups, Jack,” he said calmly. “We’ve all made them. We’re all still making them. And it’s tearing at my insides.”
Jack
tried to pull away, so Gray made him focus with a grip under his jaw. More tears fell over his fingertips and the ease with which they came had Gray resting his head against Jack’s. Go back a few months, go back all of these years, Jack’s stubborn-ass mouthy streak would have seen him walk before tears came. Gray had loved that strength, or what he thought was strength. Now it spoke worlds as lovers, as opening up as lovers and letting it hurt.
“Not anymore.” He wiped at Jack’s cheek, then kissed at his lips. Grief came with a hint of salt and Gray pulled Jack deeper into the kiss, wanting more of this honest seasoning.
“My way now, Jack.” Gray let lips drag-race along Jack’s jaw as he forced Jack’s head up a touch. The toned skin got a bite, just a nip, and he calmed at the unsteady groan it won.
Jack pulled back slightly, grey eyes evaluating everything. After a moment his face creased and a hand came up to cup Gray’s neck.
“Can’t keep hurting you, mukka.”
“Best kind of hurt,” Gray mumbled, briefly closing his eyes as he backed Jack up against the wall. He pressed his body in close, hands slipping down Jack’s sides, to his ass, pulling, pushing, lost to his own escape of breath as hips found contact. “Fucking love it.”
“Christ,” mumbled Jack and a hand cupped Gray’s neck. “What the fuck happened after I was knocked out last night? Who got to you?”
Gray briefly closed his eyes. “No one. I just need to focus on work over the next week. And to keep you and Jan safe while my time’s split, I need someone here who I trust body and soul to help keep you safe. I need you both safe now, Jack.”
Jack pulled away slightly. “Security has been doing just that. So have you.”
Gray shook his head. “I need someone here to not only keep you safe but to look at giving your head and heat the balance it needs to stop your need to walk. To give Jan some peace of mind. Last night scared the hell out of him, Jack.”
Jack frowned. “So I’ll call Halliday... Craig....”
“No.” Gray found his gaze, cooling his heat. “Triggering works on an unconscious level between you and Martin, we both know that. But at the moment, both of us are part of the problem—Hey.” He made sure Jack focused on him when he tried to look away. “You listen now. You focus. Last time I brought handcuffs near you, in here, what happened?”
