Smashwords Edition
Copyright L.J. Hayward 2018
Smashwords License Statement
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ISBN 978-0-9944571-3-4
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
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 Bargaining with the Devil
Meta-State spy Jack Reardon believes it’s all been taken care of. He has his verbal agreement with his boss to “keep Blade happy,” and Jack is more than willing to do his best in that regard. He also has his bargain with Ethan, to keep seeing each other whenever they cross paths. Small victories, interspersed with exploding bombs, smashed cars, and miffed co-workers, all while consorting with an international assassin.
Contract killer Ethan Blade values his security, and Jack’s the first time he’s found that with another person. Wiring a warehouse or outback shelter for safety, no problem. Keeping safe a prickly ex-soldier-turned-spy who’s a magnet for trouble, not so easy. Instead of faceless, nameless jobs, he’s poking his fingers into Jack’s cases—a car bomb gone awry, a Hen party gone wild—much to Jack’s mounting dismay.
They have a deal; neither one of them can seem to stick to it. It’s Jack versus Ethan as the two men learn to navigate their ever-evolving not-a-relationship without losing the benefit of the bargain.
Table of Contents
About Bargaining with the Devil
Bargaining with the Devil
Devil on his Shoulder
Death of the Party
About the Author
Bargaining with the Devil
Jack Reardon stood in the doorway to his bedroom, one hand at his throat and his half-loosened tie forgotten as his brain struggled to comprehend the scene before him.
Barely three weeks before, he’d finally been cleared of any serious breaches of protocol over the whole Blade–Harraway mess. Apparently, working with an international assassin to expose a traitor who’d had access to some of the world’s most volatile secrets went a long way to smoothing things over with upper management. Not being fired, or convicted of treason, also went a long way to keeping Jack’s career—and life—on track. Even if it was now infinitely more complicated, as evidenced by the scene before him.
After being released from building confinement, he’d come back to his Leichhardt apartment only to have Ethan Blade appear in his home, armed with a proposal Jack had been unable to say no to. Namely, whenever they were in close proximity they’d get together and fuck. Ethan had said he rather enjoyed the way Jack made him feel and wanted more of it. Jack had agreed wholeheartedly—well, mostly wholeheartedly—and they’d given the arrangement a practice run for three days before Ethan had vanished as stealthily as he’d arrived.
During the intervening weeks, Jack’s doubts about the situation had risen and fallen like the tide. Still, he’d thought he would’ve had enough time and space to sort out his feelings about it before he saw Ethan again. He certainly hadn’t believed the agreement would pay out so soon.
But it had, in the form of a naked man on his bed. A long, lean stretch of pale skin, dark tousled hair, sexy smirk, socks, and a red ribbon tied in a bow around . . . around his . . . his . . . Jack pried his gaze from the bow before his head exploded. He focused on something safer.
“Still with the socks.” Damn it. He’d wanted something suave and smooth, something to show he wasn’t one swallow away from being a drooling Neanderthal. At least the words were comprehensible and in a logical order. Small victories.
Ethan’s smirk morphed into a disarmingly shy smile. “Honestly, Jack. That’s what you focus on?”
Attention drawn like a magnet back to that bow, Jack had no fear of drooling now. His mouth was suddenly as dry as the Great Sandy Desert.
It had started as a thoughtless comment—I’d probably come home one day and find you already inside, naked, and waiting with a bow around your dick—Jack had blurted in a post orgasmic haze. He’d realised his mistake at the time, and had tried to steer Ethan around it, all the while knowing he may as well let it go. Getting in the way of Ethan’s compulsion to finish any job he started never ended well.
Honestly, this wasn’t one Jack wanted to derail.
“Well?” Ethan asked.
“Well,” Jack mimicked, toeing off his shoes and loosening his tie further, “guess I better unwrap my present.”
Tip of his tongue slipping between his lips, Ethan arched his back. The low light of the bedside lamp glided across his smooth chest and slid down over his rippling abs and further, to glance across the satin ribbon in its ridiculous bow.
Jack took the couple of steps required to bring him to the foot of the bed. He paused for a moment, breathing hard at the abrupt surge of need thrumming through his veins. His dick thickened from half hard to fully erect instantly. He warred between undressing or getting his hands on the perfect body before him. It wasn’t a difficult choice.
There was something deliciously debauched in being fully dressed while he teased Ethan’s naked skin to shivering sensitivity and his muscles to twitchy excitement. From his shoulders down to his hips, across his thighs to the tender, reactive backs of his knees. All the way along his firm, swoon-inspiring calves to his cotton-encased feet. Flipping him over, Jack made his way back up, taking his time to remember proven means and methods and explore new options. Ethan squirmed and moaned, wriggled one way and writhed the other. He pushed into this and pulled from that, then begged for more of both.
When Jack rolled him back over, Ethan was loose and relaxed, eyes half lidded, hands drifting in slow waves over Jack’s face and neck, skin to skin.
“I’ve missed this,” Ethan said softly.
The touching, tone, and expression made Jack wonder what Ethan was referring to—his face or the foreplay. Either option had Jack squirming. He had decided how he felt about Ethan was okay. This man wasn’t only an assassin, but an animal-loving, fast-car enthusiast whose odd innocence sparked a protective need in Jack. With that in mind, he hoped Ethan was referring to the foreplay. But he also hoped he wasn’t.
Jack went with the o
ption he was absolutely certain about.
“Yeah?” He rolled his hips over Ethan’s, hard shafts rubbing together, the fabric of Jack’s pants hissing over the satin ribbon. “But it’s only been three weeks and we haven’t even got to the good stuff yet.”
Ethan moaned and arched his back, seeking more friction. “I don’t care how long it’s been, Jack, or what we do. I just need you.” He wound his arms around Jack’s neck and drew him closer, gaze flicking down to his lips, then back to Jack’s eyes. “I don’t mind that you won’t kiss me on the mouth or that it may be months before we can see each other again. I don’t even care that the directors of the Office may know about us. All that matters is that I know you, Jack. I know you won’t hurt me or betray me.” Smirking, he added slyly, “Without good reason, at least.”
Jack’s heart thumped painfully, as if it were trying to send him a message via Morse code, or about to explode. Christ. The complete trust Ethan put in him never failed to surprise Jack. That level of vulnerability was intoxicating. Far too intoxicating, especially knowing—hoping—that Jack was the only one who got to experience Ethan this way. It almost made Jack forget his belief that kissing mouth to mouth was the most intimate and loving thing a person could do. Almost, but not enough.
Avoiding that dangerous temptation, Jack slid down Ethan’s body and off the end of the bed. He tugged Ethan towards him until his arse was on the edge of the mattress, spread thighs to either side of Jack. His present awaited him in its red ribbon, hard and nicely thick.
“Jack?” Ethan propped himself up on his elbows. “Is something wrong?”
Jack ran his hands up and down Ethan’s thighs, studying his target. “Just planning.”
“Planning what?”
“How I’m going to unwrap my present.”
There was a sweetly perplexed smile on Ethan’s lips. “It’s a simple bow, Jack.”
“I know, but it’s been a while. I mean, I used to be pretty good at tying cherry stems in knots with my tongue, but I haven’t done that for, fuck me, at least fifteen years.”
Eyes widening, Ethan said, “Your tongue?”
“Yeah. How else am I supposed to get the damn ribbon off?”
“Like this, perhaps?” Ethan went to grab a trailing end of red.
Jack slapped his hand away. “Where’s the fun in that?” He dipped down and licked up the enticing length before him; his tongue bumped over the slick ribbon. “This way is going to be so much better.”
“Jack, I didn’t do this to make you . . .” Ethan moaned, sounding both resigned and guilty as Jack slid his lips over the wet head of Ethan’s dick. He gasped when Jack’s tongue flicked over the sweet spot on the underside of his glans. “Jack, I–I– you don’t . . . ngh!”
Mouth popping off the end, Jack peppered kisses across Ethan’s groin. “Do you want me to stop?”
After a strangled moment, Ethan ground out, “No.”
Jack smiled like a cat seeing a mouse. “Right. Time to get serious.”
Ethan’s groan of despair quickly turned into one of startled pleasure, and Jack aimed to keep it that way.
The alarm went off and Jack grumpily tossed himself onto his belly. It was far too early to get up. Especially when he’d stayed up so late. Why had he . . . ? Oh. Ethan was here. Even as the beeping continued, he snuggled into the mattress, pleasant memories of the night before enriching his awake state. God, Ethan had been amazingly receptive and responsive; wonderfully unhinged. After Jack had got the ribbon undone—orally—he’d claimed his present fully. Just remembering that, and the fun shower after, had Jack aching for more before he had to go back into work.
With a directed thought, Jack silenced the alarm from his neural implant—all the connectivity and applications of a phone without the clunky handset—and pushed up to his elbows. He half expected to be alone in the bed. The first time Ethan had come to his apartment the man had barely slept. Granted, neither had Jack. They’d napped between sessions and Jack had slept deeper for a couple of hours at a time on several occasions over the three days, but Ethan had been restless, prowling around the apartment while Jack slept. He did the dishes from their quick meals, washed clothes, tidied the kitchen cabinets, cleaned the bathroom. He’d said he liked to keep busy.
So it was slightly surprising to find Ethan in bed. He was sprawled on his back, one arm and leg exposed, a small trail of drool from the corner of his slightly parted lips to the pillow. There was even light snoring.
Jack smiled. It was cute. Ethan Blade, wanted assassin, drooled in his sleep. Cute, but Jack didn’t want cute right then. He wanted awake and moaning and thrusting.
“Hey, Blade. Rise and shine.” He prodded his shoulder.
No response.
Jack leaned in, mouth next to his ear. “Ethan,” he said softly. “Eeethaaaan.”
Nothing.
After a moment’s thought, Jack tried, “Paul. Paaauuul.”
The silence was broken only by a couple of snores.
Time to bring out the big guns. Jack stroked his hand from Ethan’s shoulder, over his pec and down his abs to rub little circles on his hip. “Ethan, come on. Wake up.”
A twitch in one hand, like he might swat at whatever was touching him, but that was all.
For five minutes Jack tried gentle caresses and sexy beseeching, all the while slowly increasing in volume. The biggest response was that Ethan partly rolled over. Then Jack tried overt options. Talking louder, rocking him, picking up his arm and letting it drop like a dead weight. None of it worked. If he hadn’t been breathing, Jack would have suspected death from sexual exhaustion. Perhaps it was weariness from whatever job he’d been on before sneaking into Jack’s apartment. Jack wasn’t sure he wanted to know for sure, though, so he got up, dressed, left a note on the bedside table, and went to work.
Since his promotion to field leader, Jack had been mired in additional training. Most of it consisted of online seminars and instructional videos. He had weekly meetings with a psychologist to learn how to “manage” people. Three years as an SAS lieutenant wasn’t experience enough, apparently. He was also being pestered into choosing a second. As a new field leader, Jack’s permanent team was limited to him and a second. They’d grab any extra hands they needed on a job to job basis. There was a lot more interest in the position than Jack had thought likely. Apparently, people liked the idea of working with the man who’d not only brought in Ethan Blade, but broke him out and then hauled him back in again, all so they could expose a traitor within the Office of Counterterrorism and Intelligence—known simply as the Office.
Then there was the continuing investigation into the network of contacts Samuel Valadian had been part of. Jack still consulted with the team every now and then, as well as with the new investigation into Ethan Blade. After his brief but eventful sojourn with the Office, gathering information on Ethan had increased from a passive interest to a very active one. The team handling it often sought Jack out for his insight or opinion.
At the end of an uneventful day, he’d barely thrown his leg over the seat of his black Kawasaki Ninja when the lingering contemplation of the latest applicant—a guy out of the Auckland branch, recruited from the police force eighteen months ago—dropped away and the thought of getting a return blowjob from Ethan took over. It hadn’t happened yet, but perhaps that was because Ethan needed Jack to ask for it. Ethan could still be a bit hesitant about asking for what he wanted, but when he got the courage or was just manic with lust enough to take it—those were some of the most amazing moments ever.
The anticipation only grew and he was half hard when he unlocked the door to his apartment and went in. Only the lamp on the far side of the room was on, enough light for Jack to see well enough, and not so bright Ethan needed his glasses. It felt very promising and as Jack set his helmet on the kitchen counter, he wondered if he would find Ethan as he had last night, naked and seductive.
He didn’t.
Before Jack had taken two m
ore steps, Ethan appeared from the hallway leading to the bedrooms and bathroom. He was dressed in a dark suit and straightening his cuffs. As he lifted his arms, his shoulder rig was visible, as were the butts of his Desert Eagles.
Unless Ethan had some sort of kink this was looking less promising.
“Going somewhere?” Jack asked mildly.
“Yes. I have to leave.” Ethan came towards the door, the dark panes of his sunglasses aimed at Jack but who knew where he was looking.
“Last night you said you were here for at least two nights.”
“I did, but I’m afraid something has come up.”
Jack sidled in front of the door. “Really? You’re just going to leave?”
Ethan stopped a couple of paces back. Hands at his sides, he appeared nonthreatening. Jack knew better and, honestly, anyone who knew better would move and let the man go, but Jack hadn’t got this far by taking the safe path.
“Yes. I did wait long enough to tell you in person, though.” There was a slight edge to the words that grated on Jack for some reason.
“Well,” he muttered, “that’s a change. Last time you just left without a word. No note, no message.” Jack hadn’t been bothered by it at the time because they’d made their arrangement and he knew he would be seeing Ethan again at some point.
“Hmm.” Just how Ethan managed the same bite with a single sound as he had with a whole sentence was beyond Jack. “I thought I owed it to you to tell you in person that I don’t think our arrangement is going to work. I’m sorry but I won’t be coming to see you again.”
Jack gaped. When Ethan had first proposed this mad idea, Jack had had a few moments of doubt, mostly to do with the Office inevitably finding out he and Ethan were still in contact—intimate contact. But he had Director Tan’s verbal agreement to “keep Blade happy” to fall back on, and Ethan had said himself that he didn’t care about the Office knowing. So why the fuck was it suddenly over? What had happened to make Ethan change his goddamned mind? Had Jack just imagined all his talk about trust and safety?
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