by MC Lee
Jack winced. “We’ll be fine,” he managed. “See you tomorrow.”
He climbed out of the back of the van, instinctively scanning the area in case Evan or Martin had grown suspicious and decided to check up on them. When he was sure they hadn’t been made, he slid into the passenger seat of Leo’s car and sighed as his tense muscles slowly uncoiled.
Leo didn’t say anything until they were halfway back to Jack’s apartment. “You want me to stay tonight?”
“Shit, yes,” Jack breathed.
“You’re okay to ask Evan?” Leo said doubtfully.
Jack grimaced, but then he shook himself. He was sixteen years old. Evan knew about his relationship with Leo. It suddenly felt ridiculous to hide, especially when he needed Leo so desperately.
Evan was already at home when Jack and Leo walked in. His eyes narrowed when he looked at Jack. “You look… tense,” he said. “Is anything wrong?”
“Everything’s fine,” Jack said hurriedly. “Just keyed up from sitting around all afternoon.”
“An hour’s run should fix that,” Evan said. “Leo, are you staying for dinner?”
Jack jumped in at the opening Evan had created. “He’s staying the night.” At Evan’s raised eyebrow, he added, “If you’re okay with it.”
Evan turned toward Leo. “Check with Martin. If he agrees, it’s fine by me.”
Leo pulled out his cell phone and hit one of the keys, and a moment later he was connected to Martin. He gave a quick rundown of a sanitized version of the day’s events and then said casually, “Unless you need me for anything, I’m going to stay at Jack’s place tonight.” Jack sucked in an anxious breath, watching Leo’s face for clues. “Yeah, he’s here. You want to talk to him?” Leo handed the phone to Evan, who turned his back and spoke softly into it.
“It’s all good,” Leo said, and Jack felt the pent-up breath rush out of his lungs.
After Evan disconnected the call and handed the phone back to Leo, he rubbed his hands together. “How does five miles sound?”
“Like torture,” Jack groaned.
“Just what I need,” Leo said simultaneously.
“Okay, boys. It’s on,” Evan said gleefully. “Jack, dig out some kit for Leo. I’ll meet you downstairs in ten.”
In the end, the run turned out to be exactly what Jack needed to clear his head and burn up the excess adrenaline pumping through his system. Evan and Leo set the pace, taking things a lot easier than normal to accommodate him. He appreciated it, though he was still winded and exhausted by the time they clattered back into the apartment.
Evan disappeared into the bathroom, and Jack encouraged Leo to use the en suite in his bedroom while he contacted Sean. As he’d expected, it was a lot harder to fool Sean about what had happened that day.
“I thought you were closing in on Ryan Anderson. I expected some movement on that front,” he said.
Even though a screen and several hundred miles separated them, Jack still felt as though Sean was looking straight through him. “It isn’t going to go as fast as we thought,” he said carefully.
“What’s the hold up?”
“Anderson hasn’t made a move on Freya. Leo and I are taking turns watching her, but nothing so far.”
Sean frowned. “Why is he hanging back? It doesn’t make sense.”
Jack decided to treat that as a rhetorical question. He watched as Sean shook his head, the frown transforming to a more quizzical look.
“Evan tells me Leo is spending the night.”
“Shit! Is nothing private around here?” Jack didn’t know when Evan had even found the opportunity to contact Sean.
“Your life isn’t private. Not from me. And especially not during an assignment.”
Given the secrets Jack was hiding, he decided not to challenge Sean on that assertion. Leo chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom, wearing nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. He hung back, purposefully keeping out of Sean’s sight line.
“Do you want us to do anything to push Anderson?” Jack asked the question because it was expected, but he desperately hoped Sean wouldn’t say yes. He wanted as much time as possible to figure out what Moore knew.
“Negative,” Sean said. “Let him set the pace. You and Leo hang in there until he makes his move.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Report back same time tomorrow.” Jack nodded and was about to sign off when Sean added, “Tell Leo he’ll catch his death if he stands around like that much longer.”
The screen went blank, and Jack grinned at the look of consternation that crossed Leo’s face as he groused, “That was just a lucky guess.”
“He’s an experienced operative. I doubt guessing has much to do with it. He noticed I’m sweating after our run, he knows you’re staying the night, and he probably saw my eyes flicker when the bathroom door opened. He’s pretty good at putting two and two together.”
“No wonder you can never put anything over on him,” Leo said.
Jack’s grin faltered. “Oh, I don’t know. Right now, I’m keeping one of the biggest secrets of my life from him.”
THE REST of the evening was weirdly normal. Evan defrosted a casserole and steamed some vegetables, and they ate in front of the ballgame. Leo seemed totally at ease, settling onto the couch next to Jack, throwing an arm around his shoulder, and keeping up a running conversation with Evan about all things sports. At first Jack was tense and kept sliding sidelong glances at Evan. But he didn’t seem to notice, or perhaps he really didn’t care. Eventually Jack settled more comfortably against Leo’s side and let himself relax.
At ten o’clock Leo yawned loudly, and Jack took the hint. He stood, pulling Leo up with him and throwing him over his shoulder. “We’re hitting the sack.”
“See you in the morning,” Evan said absently, his attention held by the final innings.
Leo was laughing when they reached Jack’s bedroom and closed the door. “Believe it or not, you’re not the first teenager to bring his boyfriend home.”
Jack shoved at Leo’s shoulder. “Smartass. It’s all right for you, you’ve done this before—” He stopped abruptly, and Leo grabbed him around the waist and pulled him close.
“But it never meant anything close to what this means to me.” He leaned in and brushed his lips against Jack’s, who returned the kiss passionately before taking a reluctant step backward.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“Of course,” Leo replied. “You want to get comfortable first?”
They washed up and then slipped between the cool sheets. As Jack sprawled out on his back, Leo propped himself up on his elbow and traced a finger lightly over the faint scar that ran down the length of Jack’s side—a parting gift from one of his previous assignments.
“Do you trust Dominic Moore, or whatever the hell his real name is?”
“Absolutely not,” Leo said. “It’s clear he has his own agenda. I just can’t figure out what it is.”
“You think he’s lying about my… about Michael Palmer?”
Leo’s forehead creased. “Not lying exactly. But there’s something not quite right about him.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you what JD found when he hacked my file—”
Leo clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the faltering apology. “We’re not going there,” he said decisively. “We’ve both done things we’re not proud of. I want to put all that behind us.” He inclined his head, and Jack silently nodded his agreement.
“It’s hard to believe Dawson slipped in behind the Center’s firewall by himself. You saw how much hardware and manpower it took Moore to access your file.”
Jack forced himself to maintain eye contact. “The Center was all over JD the minute he tried to hack the system. They allowed him in because they didn’t want him to know he’d been discovered. Letting him access my file was all part of their fucked-up plan.”
Leo’s usually guarded expression suddenly darkened noticeably. “Some of that stuff I read in y
our file… it was intense. You want to talk about it?”
Jack shook his head vehemently. He wasn’t ready to discuss his early life with anybody, not until he’d gotten a handle on the tangle of emotions coursing through him. “Another time?” he offered, not wanting to push Leo away.
Leo leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Whenever you want to talk, I’ll be right here.”
It was a true relief to know that when he was ready, Leo would be there for him. He tried to smother a yawn but guessed from the smile that spread across Leo’s face that he’d failed. Leo eased gently away from Jack’s side. “Things will look clearer after a good night’s sleep.”
Jack groaned. “I can’t believe you’re actually here, in my bedroom, staying the whole goddamned night, and all we’re gonna do is sleep!”
Leo dropped his head to nuzzle against Jack’s shoulder, and he slid an arm around Jack’s waist in a loose hold. “We have all the time in the world, man.”
Jack shivered at the words, although he wasn’t quite sure why.
Chapter Twenty-Four
IN THE cold, pale light of early morning, Jack watched the glow from a car’s headlights track across his ceiling and then down the wall until it disappeared into a murky corner of the room. Leo was snug against his side, an arm and a leg thrown haphazardly across Jack’s body, his deep, rhythmic breathing signaling he was fast asleep.
Jack had dozed for a few hours, and then his eyes had snapped open as though a switch had been thrown. Now he was wide awake, unable to chase away the troubling thoughts that had disturbed his dreams.
Leo stirred in his sleep, and Jack stroked a hand through his short hair until he settled again with a sigh. He let his hand ghost over Leo’s chest, hovering over the puckered skin of one of the scars that crisscrossed his body. Like Jack, Leo carried the story of his professional life on his skin, a tale that could never be fully shared.
Realizing he wasn’t going to get any more sleep tonight, Jack slipped out from underneath Leo’s sheltering arm and slid out of bed. He padded over to his desk and powered up his computer, taking a few minutes to flick listlessly through some web pages.
He was surprised when a dialogue box opened onscreen with a message from Sean that read You’re up early!
Jack smiled faintly as he typed a return message: Couldn’t sleep.
A moment later Sean wrote: Switch to Skype.
Jack obeyed the order, keying in the particular set of instructions that secured the site from any possibility of electronic eavesdropping. Sean’s face appeared on his screen, looking remarkably alert for 5:00 a.m.
“What bothering you?” he asked, without any preamble.
“Nothing’s bothering me. I just—”
“Cut the crap, Jack,” Sean interrupted. “Spill.”
Jack sighed. “Do you remember when you taught me to field-strip a forty-five?”
Sean arched an eloquent eyebrow. “That’s what keeps you up at night,” he said dryly.
“I was thinking about it earlier.”
Sean had drilled him relentlessly for hours a day over several weeks until he could disassemble and reassemble the weapon quite literally blindfolded. Muscle memory, Sean called it—a blind, robotic response that eliminated all conscious thought from the process. In the small hours of the morning, Jack had realized that it was exactly how he’d lived those first ten years at the Center, his body honed by constant training, his responses programmed and predictable, rarely questioning the things he was taught to do or the man who pulled his strings. It was a depressing discovery.
“I remember how quickly you picked it up,” Sean said. “You have a natural ability.”
“There’s nothing natural about anything I do.” The words slipped out before he could stop them, and he winced as Sean’s eyes narrowed with disapproval. “I wasn’t such a natural when you taught me to drive,” he said hurriedly.
Sean’s crooked smile was unexpected. “I still have the gray hairs. How many times did you end up driving us into the ditch? I seem to remember I had to threaten you with permanent lockdown if you didn’t clean up your foul language.”
Jack snorted. “As I recall, you turned the air blue more than once.”
“I was in fear for my life,” Sean said dryly. “I almost gave up on you.”
It wasn’t true, and they both knew it. Sean had always been endlessly patient and encouraging, his exasperation only triggered when he thought Jack was being reckless or irresponsible. After ten interminable years of scorn and disdain, Jack had thrived under the welcome change. Some of the harsh things Judith and Guy had written in their reports flashed before him.
“I guess you knew you were taking on a screwup,” he said. He cursed himself silently when Sean leaned forward and looked at him closely, alert to the way Jack’s voice had unexpectedly trembled.
“Something’s bothering you,” he repeated, with more certainty this time. “Don’t you think after all these years I can tell when something’s wrong, Jack?”
“I’m fine,” Jack said. “Just tired.”
Sean inclined his head, and for a moment Jack thought he would press for an answer he believed, but in the end, he just shook his head.
“What makes you think you were a screwup?” he asked.
Jack shrugged. “Judith spent ten years telling me I was incompetent, and Guy didn’t let a day go by without reminding me I was useless.”
If Jack hadn’t known any better, he’d have sworn Sean winced. “I judge by what you show me. And that’s hard work and consistent effort. Now, what’s your plan of action for today? If we don’t start to see some movement soon, we’ll have to rethink this approach.”
Jack straightened from a slouch, not surprised the trip down memory lane was over and Sean was back to business.
“Leo is covering Freya this morning. I’m on Anderson. We’re getting a new camera today, and Freya wants us to take some photographs for the yearbook, so this afternoon Leo and I will trade off.”
Sean frowned. “Where will you be this afternoon?”
Jack felt his heart stutter at the faint edge of suspicion that had crept into Sean’s voice. He unclenched his fingers, suddenly aware he was twisting the metal wristband that was Sean’s way of tracking him. Luckily, the unconscious movement had been out of Sean’s line of sight, but it was a close call, and Jack felt like a fool for letting his guard down.
“It’s some kind of building on the edge of town.” He couldn’t tell Sean an outright lie when all he had to do was activate the tracker and he’d know exactly where Jack was.
“Are you getting any closer to figuring out whether it’s Freya or her father Anderson is interested in?”
“No, sir,” Jack replied. “Maybe if we knew who he worked for….”
Sean didn’t take the bait, either because he hadn’t discovered who Anderson was, or because he didn’t want to share the information. Either way, Jack realized he had to move things along. The Center was running a trace on Anderson; it was only a matter of time before it came up with something. Then, Jack suspected, he would be yanked out of the field and returned to the Center so fast he’d barely know what hit him.
“I’ll be expecting your report at eight sharp,” Sean said. “Tell me now if you anticipate any problems today.”
“I don’t, sir,” Jack said. “I think we’ll make some progress.”
“Make it happen, Jack.”
Sean cut contact, and Jack slumped back down in his seat, startled when he heard Leo’s drowsy voice.
“Come back to bed.”
“I can’t sleep,” Jack replied.
Leo’s laugh was husky and filled with promise. “Who said anything about sleep?”
MORNING CLASSES seemed to stretch endlessly, and Jack was glad when lunch finally rolled around and he met Leo and Freya in the parking lot.
“Ryan’s not coming?” he asked.
Freya shook her head. “It’s just us today. I take it you’re still interested?�
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“Give us a minute?” Jack jerked his head toward Leo, and Freya shrugged and walked away, giving them enough space to talk privately.
“What are you thinking?” Leo asked.
“Anderson.”
Leo screwed up his nose. “One of us has to keep him under surveillance.”
“I don’t trust them,” Jack said. “We have no way of knowing if they’re telling us anything like the truth. Anderson might have a game plan of his own.”
“You know this is exactly what they want, right? To separate us from each other. To get you by yourself.”
Jack’s mouth curled into a halfhearted smile. “I’m pretty sure there’s some kind of play here. But what else can we do?”
“We can walk away,” Leo said quietly. “Call Sean. Tell him everything.”
Jack glanced away, his eyes falling on Freya, who was studiously bent over her cell phone, trying to look nonchalant. He wondered what would happen if he did just walk away. Would she try to stop him? Did she have some backup plan on speed dial?
“I don’t think I’ll get another chance like this,” he said, returning his gaze to Leo. “I’m so close. I have to hear the rest of the story.”
It was Leo’s turn to break eye contact. He dropped his gaze to the tarmac and heaved an audible sigh. When he raised his head again, his whole demeanor had changed. He was once again the Center’s senior field operative.
“We’ll use the Fielding protocol. Zero margin of error. Within sixty seconds of dropped contact, I’ll issue an S&R order. Understood?”
Jack nodded.
Leo pulled out his cell phone. “Synchronize.”
Jack fished his own phone out of his pocket and sent a one-word text to Leo’s phone. When Leo nodded to confirm receipt, he pressed a three-key combination code, setting up alerts to contact Leo at preset intervals. The Fielding protocol called for a series of specific sentences to be texted at each point of contact. If Jack missed a cue, or if the messages he sent were not word perfect, it would trigger an alarm on Leo’s phone that would automatically route to the Center. And if that happened, all hell would break loose.
