When the Devil Drives
Page 1
Smashwords Edition
Copyright L.J. Hayward 2018
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ISBN 978-0-9944571-5-8
Cover by: L.C. Chase
Other Books in the Death and the Devil Series
Where Death Meets the Devil
Where Death Meets the Devil :Coda
Bargaining with the Devil
Other Books by L.J. Hayward
Night Call Series
Blood Work
Demon Dei
Here Be Dragons (short story)
Rock Paper Sorcery
Good Words about Where Death Meets the Devil
Where Death Meets the Devil is a stunning debut. It hits all the right marks as a well-plotted, well-paced and well-written romantic suspense novel.
~ RT Book Reviews
Hayward ratches up the suspense in this action-packed piece, with constant twists and betrayals on all sides to keep things unpredictable. . . . Fans of tense action and smoldering romance will appreciate the emotional connection between Jack and Ethan; there’s plenty of chemistry
~ Publishers Weekly
The masterfully plotted dual-timeline and a swoonworthy assassin with a soft side hooked me from the start.
~ Cordelia Kingsbridge, author of Kill Game
An addictive, page-turning mix of high-stakes intrigue, edge-of-your-seat suspense, and slow burn romance. I couldn’t put it down!
~ Layla Reyne, author of the Agents Irish and Whiskey, and Changing Lanes series
About When the Devil Drives
Work-life balance for a spy may be an oxymoron, but Jack Reardon likes a good challenge. And he’s almost bested this one. He’s settled into his Meta-State promotion as a field leader and into his new team with a second he can trust. Shop in order, he can take a day or two off when Ethan blows into town, their bargain finally starting to paying off.
Assassin Ethan Blade has few pleasures in his life—a decent cup of tea, a job well done, racing his fleet of supercars, and Jack. With plans to combine the last two into one thrilling weekend, Ethan’s attempt at having a normal, happy life may deliver everything he’s ever desired—or backfire spectacularly.
Jack and Ethan made a bargain, but the deal is thrown into jeopardy when the expectations and identities of the dealmakers shift—stoking the fires of doubt and jealously. Not to mention a contract killer out for revenge and an illness that threatens to reveal closely guarded secrets. Rewards are on the table for both men, maybe bigger than they even realize, if only they can renegotiate—and survive.
Table of Contents
About When the Devil Drives
When the Devil Drives
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
At Death’s Door
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
“Jack.”
Jack Reardon groaned and lifted his head enough to face the shadowy presence beside him. Ethan Blade, the most irritating person in the world, lay on his side, head propped up on one hand, pale eyes eerily visible in the darkened room and fixed on Jack. The bastard sounded annoyingly alert and refreshed.
“Oh, good. You’re awake.”
Glaring, Jack mumbled, “I wasn’t.”
Belly down in a soft bed, sleeping off two orgasms, Jack was quite willing to punch Ethan—except he didn’t have the energy. And frankly, neither should Ethan. Instead of being nearly comatose, the man was alert and shifting restlessly. Jack didn’t know what had caused Ethan’s aversion to bare feet, but the feel of his socked feet sliding against Jack’s legs was absurdly erotic. Combined with the fingers he drifted up and down Jack’s spine, it inspired the possibility of being interested in contemplating what they could do next.
“I’m sorry.” Ethan’s attempt at a contrite tone failed. “I believe I’m still on Johannesburg time. I’ll let you sleep then.” He didn’t move, just kept watching Jack with obvious intent.
“Jesus,” Jack muttered into his pillow. “There’s clearly something you want to do. I might not respond much but go ahead. Knock yourself out.”
Ethan’s low, throaty chuckle went a long way to fanning the spark of interest. It was a sound usually guaranteed to make Jack want to do stupid things. All it got this time was a slight lessening in Jack’s annoyance at being woken.
“I only had talking in mind. However, given such carte blanche I might be persuaded to change my mind.” His fingers trailed lower and Jack wondered if this was Ethan working his way towards asking to top. Jack had been waiting for it patiently, hoping Ethan wanted it too, but was unwilling to press the subject. Ethan had, after all, never pushed Jack on his no-kissing-on-the-mouth policy.
Ethan’s hand reversed direction and travelled back up to Jack’s shoulders. The assassin dug his fingers into the curls of hair laying across Jack’s neck. “Tomorrow’s Saturday.” Ethan dropped his head to rest on Jack’s pillow, close enough that his breath puffed across Jack’s cheek.
“That’s great. You can read a calendar.” Secretly, Jack was pleased. Given any regular weekend, Jack might or might not be working, depending on whatever job the Office of Counterterrorism and Intelligence had for him. Right now, he and Harry, his second, were still watching Delta Subject for External Threat Assessment.
The Indonesian national was in country on a student visa and financially supported by his mob-associated uncle, but he was an incredibly low-level threat and sitting a Tier Two op on him was like watching paint dry. At a stretch, there were reasons why Delta Subject should be monitored, but Jack considered it a very long stretch and had told the Singaporean unit leader, Keri Sing, as much with every report he gave on the subject. She didn’t agree and thus Jack was still wasting his time.
So, he’d told the Office he was taking the weekend for himself. Harry could reach him if something significant happened with Delta Subject. It was all about optimising opportunities because who knew when a seemingly harmless situation might explode into something major. It may have also had something to do with Ethan having hinted he would be back in country this weekend.
Ethan rolled his eyes at the calendar quip. “I have plans this weekend and I was hoping you’d like to join me. I’ll understand if you can’t due to work, or just don’t wish to.” Ethan nuzzled Jack’s jaw. “I plan to leave around three a.m. and I’d appreciate being able to share the driving.”
“Wait a minute.” Jack shoved Ethan back far enough that he became mildly less distracting. “Share the driving? What are you talking about?” Christ! The man still couldn’t manage a straightforward conversation.
Ethan knew exactly what he’d done to Jack by the smug tone to his British accent. “I’m going to the Gold Coast tomorrow. I’ve been asked to drive in an invitation-only charity race on Sunday. A man I’ve known for a while secured me the invitation.”
Jack took a moment to digest that on several different levels. One was a memory of Ethan behind the wheel during a police chase through Sydney, looking sublimely content: transported out of his brutal, lonely life as an international
assassin and into a place where he was in complete control. A place where he was just Ethan, not Ethan Blade—perhaps the man he could have been but for the shitty life experiences that had put him on the path of being a professional killer. Watching Ethan drive was a sight that had taken Jack’s breath and had yet to give it back.
Another was the implication Ethan had, if not “friends” as such, then at least acquaintances outside of his work. Discovering just who he, or they, might be was incredibly tempting.
The final level was the recent change to Ethan’s appearance. Jack had already spent most of their earlier foreplay teasing him about it, with classics such as, “So, do blonds have more fun?” and calling him “dude” in surfer drawl before heading downwards to see if the carpet matched the drapes.
“That’s why you did this.” Jack tugged on a lock of blond hair, so different to the usual dark brown.
“Indeed. It’s how Brendan and the others have seen me in the past.”
The name-drop made Jack really accept the second level. It was ridiculous to think when Ethan wasn’t here, or on a job, he was alone in a lair somewhere. He had to know people he wasn’t going to kill or screw. Still, Jack had to know for sure.
“Brendan, huh? He a good friend? Casual acquaintance?”
“He is, I suppose, an acquaintance,” Ethan replied, tone even. If he read something else in Jack’s questions he didn’t react to it. “Someone I first met at Kulnura. He races Porsches but he has a 1967 AC Cobra 427 he’s reconditioned. It was originally fitted with Ford’s 428 engine but he replaced it with the 427.”
As Ethan got carried away talking about long strokes and small bores—and not the sort of strokes or bores Jack might have been interested in—his face lit up. He became vibrant and alive, excited, using his hands to help describe the actions of pistons and crankshafts. Or whatever it was he was talking about. Jack tuned out the actual words and basked in the overwhelming enthusiasm. As much as Jack didn’t really care about how cars worked, he very much liked that Ethan did.
It surprised Jack as much as it did Ethan when Jack found himself saying “Yes.”
Mid-rant about something called continuation cars, Ethan stopped. “Pardon?”
Feeling a bit foolish for his awkward blurting, Jack grumbled, “Yes, okay. I have the weekend off work, Harry will cover anything that might happen, and I’ll go with you to the Gold Coast. Though what I’m going to do while you and Brendan get your car-gasms on, I have no idea.” And because Ethan was starting to grin, he added, “Probably just head to the beach and ogle the surfers in their wet boardies.”
“You could,” Ethan said reasonably. “Or . . .”
Ethan sprang on him, wrestling Jack to his back and pinning him to the mattress with his whole body. “Or you could drive with me.”
Jack wiggled so his thickening dick aligned with Ethan’s. “I don’t know. That seems a bit boring, just sitting there while you drive around in circles.”
“I can assure you it will be anything other than boring, Jack. The Gold Coast track is one of the most exciting circuits in Australia. It’s not just a circle.” As if to emphasise his point, Ethan rubbed his groin over Jack’s in a slow, delicious rotation.
“Well then, that makes all the difference. When were you wanting to leave?”
“Three a.m.”
“Right. It’s what? Eleven thirty now.” Jack did some quick calculations. “Mess around for fifteen, sleep for three hours and then go.”
Ethan laughed. “When will you pack, Jack?”
“It’s the bloody Gold Coast. Shorts, tees and thongs, done.”
“It is also a charity event. Something a little more formal will be required for the dinner tomorrow night.”
Growling, Jack rolled them over. “Fine. I’ll take some closed-in shoes as well.” Sliding downward, he licked Ethan’s nipple.
With a part-sensual, part-resigned sigh, Ethan said, “I shall pack while you sleep.”
Jack hid a grin in Ethan’s belly. “Whatever. Now, I’m getting old, memory’s slipping. Did we ever decide if the carpet matched the drapes?”
They left Sydney just after three a.m. Ethan drove Victoria, his black Aston Martin Vanquish S Coupe, while Jack fell asleep. He woke for breakfast in Newcastle, then dozed again until Port Macquarie. After considering him for a long moment while they were stretching their legs in a public park, and in a move that surprised Jack, Ethan handed over the keys. Despite his smirk, Jack was a bit nervous as he sat behind the wheel. He knew just what the car meant to Ethan; and what it meant to let someone else drive her. She was a dream to handle, though, and Jack settled in easily. Ethan managed to drop off to sleep which made Jack happy. If Ethan could relax enough to snooze, then he trusted Jack with his precious Victoria. Jack smiled nearly all the way to Tweed Heads, where Ethan awoke. Peaceful silence filled the car for a while.
“So, what are you driving in the race?” Jack asked. “V8 Supercar? Formula One? Mini Cooper?”
“I’ll be driving Victoria.”
“You’re going to risk your baby on a racetrack?”
“Of course, Jack. It’s the purpose she was built for. Wouldn’t it be sad if she never realised her destiny?”
Jack wanted to gape but didn’t take his gaze off the road. He’d never hear the end of it if he got a scratch or dint in the car, even though Ethan was more than willing to slam it around a racetrack with other amateur drivers.
“Okay. It’s your car.” Jack couldn’t help but wonder if there was another unrealised destiny Ethan mourned.
When they reached Tugun, Ethan pulled up directions on a phone. It had been years since Jack had set foot in Queensland, let alone the Gold Coast, so he was grateful for Ethan’s instructions guiding him to Main Beach. In between dealing with numerous detours around the racetrack and the crazy antics of the Gold Coast drivers, they found the staging area without Jack losing his cool. At the gate, Ethan handed over some paperwork and they were directed to a carpark. When the car was at a standstill, Ethan sank back into the leather seat and let out a soft sigh.
Jack was about to defend his driving but stopped himself. In the silence, he studied the man, noting the small smile, the relaxed shoulders, the way he eagerly looked at the activity around them.
God. Another vision Jack wouldn’t forget any time soon. Not quite as sublime as Ethan driving at top speed, but close. He wasn’t relieved Jack had stopped driving, but because this was Ethan’s Zen place. And he’d bought Jack here to be with him.
With a muffled thump, that grenade in Jack’s chest went off again.
He wanted to show Ethan how much he valued this and the urge to do something stupid was strong. Jack was leaning in before he realised it.
“Oh,” Ethan whispered, lips parting, head tilting invitingly. Then, “Oh!” His hand snapped up and caught Jack by the face, pushing him back. “Brendan is here.”
Pulling away from Ethan’s hand, Jack scowled. “What the fuck?” His feelings were torn, both upset about his move being rejected so summarily and bloody grateful it had been.
“Brendan, my acquaintance.” Ethan unbuckled and, hand on the door handle, paused. “Before you meet him, I should tell you everyone here knows me as Roy Carter.”
Still confused, Jack muttered, “Roy Carter?”
“Yes, Jack. An investment banker from Sydney.”
“Right.” Forcing his mind into the moment, Jack nodded. “Right,” he repeated, then asked, “And who am I?”
Presumably, Ethan rolled his eyes behind his glasses, such was his tone. “You are Jack Reardon, also from Sydney. An ex-soldier, now a specialist security advisor with the International Security Office. Though you don’t tell me much about your job. A matter of national security, I believe. Oh, and you prefer to go by Nishant in social situations,” he added, then opened the door and went to get out.
“Wait.” Jack caught his arm. “What about us? Are we friends? Did I just hitch a ride up here to ogle surfers?”
>
Ethan went still. “You don’t wish people to think we’re together?”
Did he? Jack had no issues with being gay in public. Though he wasn’t particularly demonstrative, he wouldn’t hide the fact he was with whomever he was with. If an overly opinionated bigot happened to get more than mouthy, he knew he could take control of the situation without too much difficulty. It was, however, different with Ethan. Mostly because of the Office and Ethan’s job as a paid killer. The Office had relaxed it’s track and catch policy on Ethan since he’d been instrumental in uncovering a traitor, so long as he kept his work outside of the Meta-State, and tucked away in Jack’s apartment, neither of their jobs mattered. Outside of the apartment was where it got tricky. Clearly, when Jack had agreed to this expedition, thoughts on logistics and tactics hadn’t been part of his in-the-moment decision-making process.
So, he hedged. “You decide,” he said, far more calmly than he actually felt. “It’s your call.”
The stillness remained for a moment longer, then Ethan nodded once. The look on his face was as expressionless as the opaque panes of his sunglasses.
“So,” Jack prompted. “What—”
“Roy! I was starting to wonder if you’d make it.”
The mysterious Brendan had arrived. He sauntered up to the car, leaning over to peer through the driver’s side window. He was late thirties or very early forties, with a neat body kept in good trim, dark hair and brown eyes bracketed by faint laugh lines. He wore a blue and green race suit, the upper half pushed off, arms tied around his waist to keep it from dangling down to the ground. His grey T-shirt was darkened under his arms and down his chest with sweat. When he and Jack locked gazes through the tinted glass, Brendan’s eyes went wide, clearly unprepared to see someone other than Ethan—other than Roy—in the driver’s seat.