Between Jamie’s people and the UMG agents, the SUVs were loaded up in record time and the team split up between the three vehicles. Katie and Sean made sure to join the SUV Jamie was riding in, taking the seats in the far back while Jamie and Kyle claimed the ones in the middle. Liam got behind the wheel, which didn’t surprise Jamie. For all his teasing about not liking to drive, he knew Liam preferred being in the driver’s seat over letting someone with far less tactical driving experience put their hands on the wheel.
Soon as they were in and buckled up, and Liam had disabled the self-driving mode, he led the convoy through the restricted route to the exit tunnel that would take them off the airfield and back out into the public zone. Heathrow’s Terminal 6 had been built with privacy in mind, and was the only area of the busy airport that allowed on-tarmac pickups after security clearance was achieved.
“Vehicle is secured for privacy,” Liam said once they’d scanned out of the airport and merged into the traffic congestion on the M4. “Real good to see you, Jamie. Wish it was under better circumstances.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” Jamie replied.
“My team’s been read in on your mission for support purposes and will be available if we need them. The UMG can confirm the target is still in London.”
“Our people weren’t able to discern if Jansen is a metahuman. Has your side had any luck since he hit your radar?”
“Can’t confirm, can’t deny. He’s a slippery bastard and hard to pin down.”
“Wonderful.”
“When are you orchestrating the meet?”
“Tonight. No sense in waiting.”
Liam’s hazel eyes flickered back to him in the rearview mirror. “That puts us on a tight schedule. Best place to start would be Vesuvius. He owns the nightclub and it’s invite only. Posh place, been inside myself once or twice. Didn’t care for the vibe though.”
“I can get us on the list,” Katie replied.
“No,” Jamie said, shaking his head. “We need to get Jansen’s attention, which means we need to make a scene.”
“You mean you need to make a scene. The rest of us get to sit back and watch you be an asshole. I’m kind of looking forward to it,” Kyle said.
Liam cracked a smile as he merged over to the fast lane, the other SUVs falling into line behind him, forcing traffic to accommodate them. “Jamie is quite the arsehole when he wants to be. Must be why we’re mates.”
“Must be why you’re both terrors and prone to giving me a migraine any time the two of you are within shouting distance,” Katie replied.
“You sound like you’ve missed me.”
“Like I’ve missed a twenty klick hump, then sure. I’ve missed you.”
Liam laughed. “Ouch.”
“Be nice, Katie,” Jamie said, swallowing back his laughter.
“What are you on about? This is her being nice! Sod all you mouthy NCOs, you never change.” The smile on Liam’s face faded, expression turning troubled. “To be honest, I am glad you’re here, Katie. Having a telepath about will make this mission loads easier.”
“So long as you clear me,” Katie warned.
“Paperwork’s being pushed through today and the queen was informed of the decision to allow an easement of the telepathy restrictions for a foreign agent. She’s not particularly pleased about it, but I swore to her over breakfast this morning you’re one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met and you won’t abuse your power.”
“You had breakfast with the Queen of England?” Kyle asked, side-eyeing Jamie as he spoke.
Before Jamie could answer, Sean beat him to it, speaking up for the first time in hours. “Liam is thirteenth in line to the British throne. It’s why the UMG isn’t taking lead on this mission.”
“Twelfth, actually,” Liam corrected, eyes narrowing a bit in the rearview mirror.
“Thirteenth. Your cousin Alice is pregnant, though she hasn’t announced it yet.”
The friendliness in Liam’s voice disappeared. “That’s information you shouldn’t be privy to.”
“Sean is ex-CIA and the one who orchestrated this mission,” Jamie said with an apologetic sigh. “I’d be more surprised if he didn’t know that information.”
Liam scowled. “Ah, he’s a spook, then. Never quite cared for those types.”
“No one does,” Kyle muttered under his breath.
Jamie put his hand on Kyle’s knee, squeezing gently, the action hidden from everyone in the car except Liam. “You said you’ve been to Vesuvius before, Liam. Ever run into Jansen while there?”
“Can’t say that I have and I’m quite the catch you know. Never got approached, though I’ve seen others get singled out and plied with his attention. I don’t think you’ll have any trouble catching his eye, Jamie. Me? I got a title and a trust fund. Maybe the title’s worth fuck all to the likes of them and I just don’t have enough zeroes in my account, but he’ll come crawling to you without question,” Liam said.
Jamie grimaced, looking out the window at the cramped outer districts of the London megacity pressing up against the M4. The walls separating the highway from the buildings glowed from the countless advertisements flowing across them, the holographs chasing them into the city center.
“We can only hope.”
Kyle thought he was done being impressed with Jamie’s wealth.
Turned out he wasn’t.
Standing in the front living room of an eleven-room gated property in the ultra-wealthy Kensington district in London proved to Kyle that he was way, way out of his league. Tucking his hands into his jacket pockets, he rocked back on his heels and stared up at the delicate light fixtures extending from the ceiling, listening with half an ear as the rest of the team hauled everything in from the SUVs and deposited them in rooms they had no trouble finding. Liam had confirmed that UMG agents had cleared the house of any possible electronic surveillance, which was great, but that was one less thing Kyle could’ve helped with.
He’d offered to help unload the vehicles and been shut down by everyone. Carrying his own weight was, apparently, not something he was supposed to do anymore as Jamie’s arm candy. If he were honest, Kyle really didn’t like that.
He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood relying on himself because he couldn’t rely on his family before they’d died. The years he’d lived with the Dvorkins showed him a family that pitched in with everything and shared whatever they had, even when they didn’t have much. Going into the Army and later, into Strike Force, was a master class in learning to rely on yourself and your brothers and sisters in arms. Standing on the sidelines like he was useless was pissing Kyle off.
“<>” Alexei asked in Russian as he came over to Kyle and slung an arm over his shoulders.
“<
Alexei peered around them at the open layout filled with expensive furniture and pricey artworks, the stairs that led up to the second and third stories, and the glass French doors that opened out into an actual garden. The house extended two levels into the ground to get around the height restrictions for residential building codes. It was not at all what they were accustomed to. They’d both grown up in cramped residential towers in Boston, and Alexei remembered a time when his family lived out of honest-to-God tents in a refugee camp before getting transferred into one of the many refugee cities that had popped up over the last century in the Eastern European contested region.
The space of this house, the entrenched wealth that filled it, wasn’t comfortable.
“<
“<>”
Alexei gave him a little shake. “<
“<
Alexei sighed deeply—then smacked Kyle upside the head. “<
Kyle elbowed him, hard, in the side.“<
“<
“<
“<>” Alexei stubbornly replied. “<
“<
Alexei gave him an unimpressed look before shoving him toward the stairs. “<>”
Kyle gave him the middle finger, because that was their non-verbal version of I love you and had been since they were kids, before taking the stairs two at a time to the second floor. He slowed his pace once he came off the last step, his sneakers sinking into the plush runner rug spanning the length of the hallway. Seven bedrooms—not counting an office, parlor, a library with actual books, and an entertainment level on the first sublevel—meant there was enough room for them all if one or two bunked up with each other.
If everyone could hide from the stranger in their midst the fact that Kyle would be sleeping with Jamie.
Figuring out where the master bedroom suite was located didn’t take very long. The door was half-open, Jamie’s many Goyard suitcases stacked neatly near the walk-in closet. The amount of clothes and accessories Jamie had insisted everyone bring, not to mention the quality he paid for out of his own pocket when they came up short, would’ve been ridiculous if Kyle didn’t understand that appearances in this world were just as important as a person’s wealth. Shaking his head, Kyle tipped the first suitcase flat on the floor and opened it up, intent on unpacking since it was the only thing he could do.
He was nearly done hanging up all the suits Jamie had chosen to bring with him when he heard footsteps approaching the bedroom.
“Kyle? Alexei said you were up here,” Jamie called out.
“Yeah,” Kyle said as he secured the clasp on the second to last suitcase and pushed it against the wall in the closet. “Keeping busy.”
Jamie stepped inside the bedroom, closing the door behind him and locking it. Kyle ignored Jamie in favor of finishing the unpacking.
“Donovan’s making everyone brunch. It should be ready in about thirty minutes,” Jamie said.
“Great. I’m starving.”
“You’re pissed.”
“That too,” Kyle admitted through clenched teeth.
Jamie unbuttoned his suit jacket and shrugged out of it, carrying it with him into the closet so he could hang it up. He leaned his shoulder against the doorframe once he was done, loosening his tie a little as he watched Kyle work.
Kyle could outwait him, but he wasn’t in the mood to. “I hate being useless.”
“It’s for the cover—”
“I know it’s for the fucking cover. I just hate it.” Kyle shook his head, trying to ignore how closely useless rubbed up against helpless. “Reminds me too much of when I was a kid.”
The admission was hard to make, but Kyle knew Jamie would understand. This wasn’t a wartime PTSD issue, so much as a childhood one, and he hated being reminded of that, especially right now.
“I’m sorry,” Jamie said quietly.
“It’s not your fault.”
“I agreed to the mission.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault. If it wasn’t you, it would’ve been someone else, but the director was right. You’re the best man for the job. You usually are.”
Fingers carded through his hair and Kyle sighed, leaning into the touch, not fighting it when Jamie gently pulled at his hair to tilt his head back. The look in his blue eyes wasn’t one Kyle had ever seen before and he couldn’t parse it. He wasn’t sure he wanted to.
“No matter what happens, I want you to know that I’ll keep you safe,” Jamie said in a deep voice that sent a shiver down Kyle’s spine.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.”
Because they both knew better than to promise something like that. Jamie was his captain and Kyle would follow him anywhere, even to his death. Considering the job they had, that was a distinct possibility that woke them both up some nights, shaking from nightmares they never wanted to talk about for fear of making them a reality.
Jamie’s hand moved to cup the side of Kyle’s face, the calluses on his fingers familiar. Kyle didn’t have any; not anymore. His rapid healing meant wounds disappeared in minutes or hours, depending on their severity, and he’d lost all the scars he used to have on his body when he first became a metahuman, the chapters of a life carved into skin and etched in bone—gone.
“I’ll make whatever promises I damn well want when it comes to you,” Jamie said fiercely.
Kyle swallowed, the uncertainty he’d felt when he first walked into this house that was too much, too everything he wasn’t, washing away beneath the steel in Jamie’s voice. Kyle grabbed at Jamie’s arm, using him as leverage to get to his feet. Jamie helped him up, the strength in his hands a promise all their own as Jamie walked him backward to the huge, comfortable-looking bed situated between a pair of floor-to-ceiling windows.
When Jamie kissed him, it was hot and demanding, a deep claim that stole the breath from Kyle’s lungs. He was dizzy from it, barely cognizant of Jamie turning them around so Jamie could sit on the bed while he pushed Kyle down, down to his knees. The kiss broke when his knees hit the soft rug, one hand tangled in Jamie’s tie, the other gripping the now-wrinkled, ruined collar of his dress shirt. Jamie’s eyes were more black than blue when he nipped at Kyle’s lips, a tiny, punishing bite.
“Hands behind your back.”
Kyle unclenched his hands from Jamie’s clothes and dropped them down to his sides before clasping them behind his back, fingers wrapped around his wrists.
“Breathe.”
The ugly doubt in his mind—about them, about this situation—disappeared in moments as he breathed through the stress and pushed through to the other side, following Jamie’s order.
“That’s it. Just like that, baby.”
The calmness drifting through him felt a lot like when he was behind his sniper rifle and looking through the scope, waiting to shoot. Kyle watched hungrily as Jamie undid his belt and the zipper to his expensive dress pants, pulling his underwear down beneath his cock and balls. His cock wasn’t hard, not yet, but Kyle didn’t care. He just wanted it in his mouth, in his throat, to know that this was where he belonged—safe in Jamie’s hands.
Jamie guided him forward and Kyle opened his mouth, eagerly sucking at the head, tonguing at the slit. He kept sucking, letting his lips glide over the velvety skin until his nose pressed against Jamie’s body and the only thing that existed for him was the taste and smell of Jamie. Kyle moaned softly, the sound coming out garbled and indistinct, before he pulled back enough to clear his airway. He suckled at Jamie’s cock, eyes closed, loving the weight of it on his tongue and the way he could feel Jamie growing in his mouth. Jamie wasn’t small to begin with, and Kyle had to adjust his jaw every now and then to accommodate the cock in his mouth.
Fingers touched the back of his head and Kyle eagerly obeyed the silent
order, swallowing more of Jamie’s cock, feeling the thickening length slide down his throat. He swallowed slowly, so he could feel the way his muscles fought against Jamie’s cock, lips wrapped around hot skin, saliva sliding sticky down his chin. He stayed like that until his lungs went tight, tears pricking the corners of his eyes, a pounding in his ears that was almost loud enough to drown out Jamie’s voice.
“There you go.”
Jamie’s hands flexed in his hair, pulling him off just enough that he could breathe. Kyle whined brokenly, breath coming too quick to be helpful as the tip of Jamie’s cock nudged the back of his throat.
“Breathe.”
Kyle did as he was ordered and breathed around the thick, heavy length lying on his tongue. When Jamie guided him back down, all Kyle could do was hum in pleasure for as long as he was able, his entire body curving toward Jamie, shoulders pressed right up against Jamie’s rock-solid thighs. One of Jamie’s hands buried itself in his hair while the other rubbed the back of his neck, cradling him close as Kyle sucked and sucked and sucked.
The warmth he felt there—on his knees, protected, cared for—couldn’t last. Jamie was hot and hard in his mouth, in his throat, a thickness Kyle had been choking on for what seemed, to his fuzzy mind, like hours. When Jamie came with a soft groan, Kyle couldn’t even taste it, could only feel it, the way Jamie’s cock throbbed in his throat and mouth, pushing against his throat.
Jamie pulled him off, his cock sliding free with an obscene sound. Kyle’s puffy lips stung from lack of friction before the evidence of his efforts started to fade. He ran his tongue against the back of his teeth, eyes half-lidded, the taste of Jamie in his mouth staying.
“Come here.”
Jamie hauled Kyle off the floor and onto his lap with easy strength. Kyle let go of his hands and grasped Jamie’s broad shoulders, digging his fingers into the solid muscle there. He gasped as Jamie undid his jeans, plunging one big, warm hand beneath his clothes to wrap it around his aching cock while the other settled against his lower back to help steady him.
In the Ruins (Metahuman Files Book 2) Page 11
