Pervade Montego Bay

by Fewings, Vanessa

  “I just blew up my career to come here,” I admitted.

  He studied me, his brow furrowing.

  “I no longer work for MI6,” I clarified. “Not after today.”

  “They fired you?”

  “Fired myself. I need to get answers about what happened to you in Macau.”

  “I’m flattered.”

  “Is there somewhere you want to go?” I forced a smile. “I hear Lan Kwai Fong is nice.”

  “You’re crap at humor.”

  “I’m just warming up.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “I’m serious. Do you want out of this place?”

  He stared at me.

  I gave a shrug. “You can either stay here or…”

  “I suppose you had your chance in Macau to end me.”

  I smirked. “Never was good at following orders. Like you.”

  “I know what this is. I know why you’re here.” His bloodshot eyes held mine. “James Argyle Ballad. Retired Navy Commander. MI6 bad boy. And widower.”

  Yeah, it was no surprise that someone with Xavier’s insight could see right through me. She was my only weakness. Most people wouldn’t know Victoria’s face still haunted my every waking second. Then again, Xavier wasn’t most people.

  “You miss her. Even after all this time?”

  The words I tried to say in reply were weak and useless. There came a constriction in my throat when her name reached my lips.

  He looked away as though mulling the situation over. “If I find out who killed your wife for you what do I get?”

  “Freedom.”

  An offer he couldn’t refuse.

  He tried to smile but his lips were too cracked and dry. “So, in reality you blew up your career for revenge.”

  “Semantics.”

  He gave a knowing smile. “You think they tried to kill you, too.”

  “Farmer wasn’t expecting me back.”

  “Seems like you’ve been pissing people off.”

  “You have no idea.”

  He sat up slowly. “You found your wife’s restricted files?”

  “That’s quite the gift you have there.”

  “Reading people is not all it’s cracked up to be.” He watched my reaction. “Everything important was redacted in the docs you found on her?” he added.

  I nodded. It was remarkable to see this bright young man unravel unspoken clues.

  “She worked for MI6,” I said, wondering if he knew this.

  He gave a nod to confirm he did. “A field agent.”

  “Did you know her?”

  “Met her once,” he said. “That was it. She was really nice.”

  “You seem to know a lot about me.” I was tempted to reach out and soothe his mouth with a caress. The shock of that thought had me rising to my feet.

  “Sorry about your wife,” he said. “And…the way she died.”

  “She lived for a few days afterwards,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. “She was admitted to a burns unit in London.”

  “You have a lot to be angry about.”

  “I’m here for you too, Xavier. Just so we’re clear.”

  “Playing hero?”

  “Trust me?”

  “Kind of. I sort of like you, Ballad, in the way a person might enjoy being at the top of a rollercoaster right before it tips over the edge and nosedives. Then it’s like ‘well, this is a stupid idea.’”

  That made me smile. “Then you’re in?”

  “I’m listening.”

  “There’s this place…” I knelt before him again and reached out to brush a drop of blood away from his eye. That cut on his eyebrow would leave a scar.

  He rested his cheek in the palm of my hand, and I let him, giving us this moment we both needed. Two destroyed men. Time stood still as these unfolding seconds allowed us to reconnect. We’d escaped death back in Macau and that kind of bond went deep.

  His lips trembled and it made him look vulnerable. Rage stirred within me for the men who’d done this to him.

  “Were they military?” I asked. “The men who did this to you?”

  “Civilians as far as I can tell. I’ve memorized their faces, though.”

  “Hold onto that thought.” I gave a nod. “We’ll get to them afterward.”

  “After what?”

  “After we find out who’s fucking with us.”

  “FYI, I remember everything.”

  “Good to know. Do you think you can walk?” I went to help him.

  “Yes.” Xavier’s blue eyes were mesmerizing. Despite his bruises and all that swelling he still looked remarkable.

  “You did say you wanted to see me in action.” I threw in a grin.

  Xavier smiled, and then flinched at the pain from a cut on his lip. “Back under your command…sir.”

  “Let’s not be too hasty,” I retorted. “You know what happened last time.”

  “I’m willing to give you a second chance.”

  I stared into his eyes, oddly elated at the thought of being back in the same space with him.

  I turned my back on him and headed for the door.

  “Guard!”

  James

  The pungent scents of bleach and antiseptic were unmistakable. The chill of air-conditioning made the hairs on my forearms prickle. Standing at the end of the ward and seeing Xavier lying in a hospital bed looking so damn vulnerable made it hard for me to take another step. Patients were lined up in their beds against each wall. Private rooms were reserved for the seriously ill, apparently.

  Outside the window came the unmistakable sound of home, the place of my birth.

  The chirping of crickets was the song of Montego Bay—the island I’d grown up on. My mother had left me a private home on the beach and I’d never shared that place with anyone—except Victoria.

  The stab of guilt I suddenly felt for bringing someone else here quickly disappeared when I looked over at him…

  Moonlight shimmered over Xavier’s naked chest. The sheet barely covered him from the waist down. It was hard to look at the bruises scattered over his flesh without feeling I was responsible. Had I stayed close to Xavier he wouldn’t have left the submarine so abruptly. I’d have stayed with him and made sure the Geneva Convention’s treaties were honored. I’d have made sure no one touched him.

  The nurse’s Jamaican accent was soothing. “Go say hello to your friend.” Her bright, warm expression comforted me.

  Xavier’s crystal blue eyes followed my progress from his hospital bed. I wondered if he regretted coming here. Breaking him out of Colchester had made things worse.

  We’d left The Glasshouse in the back of an ambulance that had transported him to Colchester’s Accident and Emergency Department. It was our ruse that he needed urgent medical treatment, and Captain Rawley had fallen for it.

  Xavier had been ordered a CAT scan by the attending medical consultant. I’d advised Xavier’s military police detail that as a member of the RAMC, I was more than qualified to watch over him during the test. Avoiding radiation exposure had the policemen seeing the logic in that decision.

  That had been our opportunity to exit left.

  We’d taken a private jet from Stansted Airport to Jamaica a day ago. I’d used a couple of fake passports so there’d be no record of us leaving the country.

  After our nine-hour flight, I’d brought Xavier to Cornwall Hospital to rehydrate with IV fluids and undergo the kinds of tests he’d skipped during our great escape.

  A quick headcount revealed he was one of ten men on this ward. He looked deceptively well compared to some of the other patients. The only obvious injury was to his right arm, which was now in a sling. They’d strained his wrist during an interrogation. Nausea welled inside me when I thought of what they’d done to him.

  Xavier gestured for me to come closer.

  I stood over his hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like a free man.”

  I smiled.

  H
e stared at me for a beat. “You’ve been here before?”

  “Yes.”

  “I knew that posh British accent was hiding something.”

  I gave a shrug. “I was sent to boarding school in England and lost my Jamaican accent.”

  “Pity.”

  “Children tend to bully you if you’re different, as you know.”

  “You should have kept it. More chances of getting laid.”

  He made me chuckle.

  The Caribbean felt like home. It would always be a special place to return to when the world was too much for me to handle. I could be myself here.

  “How does it feel to be a civilian?” I asked.

  “Let’s just say that being a wanted man gave me quite the adrenaline rush—and not in a good way.”

  I gave him a look of sympathy. “We’ll sort it out.”

  “Forever the optimist.”

  “No, I just don’t care about the fuckers.”

  The smiling nurse approached us. She removed Xavier’s IV with the skill of someone who’d done it a million times before. “It’s time to get dressed, Mr. Smith.” She waved her hands to usher me out.

  “He can stay.” Xavier twisted his legs around and sat on the edge of the bed. “He’s family.” Xavier whipped off the rest of the sheet. He was wearing hospital PJs.

  The curtain was pulled around us and I went to step out.

  “Stay.” Xavier gestured.

  “I’ll wait outside.”

  “James, help me find my trousers.” He lifted his sling a little to make his point.

  “We’ll be fine,” I told the nurse.

  Inside his bedside cabinet, I discovered his clothes in a plastic bag. I pulled out his trousers and handed them to him. “They’re a bit creased.”

  “Like I care.” Xavier pulled his arm out of the sling, tugged on his shirt and then scooted to the edge of the bed. He rose to his feet and slid off his PJs. When he stepped into his trousers, his legs suddenly collapsed beneath him. I caught him, wrapping my arm around his waist to keep him from falling.

  Xavier stared at the floor, seemingly shocked by his weakness. His eyes rose to meet mine.

  “You okay?” I asked.

  I should have let him go at that point, helped him sit on the bed. But the way he leaned against my chest made me realize he’d needed this moment of kindness. This intimacy felt pure. I conveyed with a look of empathy that I wouldn’t let him fall.

  He reached back and lowered himself onto the edge of the bed. “Thank you,” he whispered.

  “You’re coming home with me,” I said firmly. “This is not a discussion.”

  “I’ve already been quite the burden.”

  “I’m pulling rank.” I winked. “You can continue to convalesce at my place.”

  “It’s safe?”

  “Safest place on the planet.”

  “Montego Bay,” he spoke the name like a song. “Wow.”

  His endearing reaction hit me in my gut and I felt a swell of affection for him.

  This wasn’t me. Empathy wasn’t something I had any use for. Yet he was compelling. The swelling had gone down in his face and he once again looked striking, those sharp cheek bones giving him an exotic aura. His golden skin made his eyes pop as they reflected his curiosity.

  He pulled back a little. “What?”

  I shook myself from daydreaming.

  “Do I look that bad, Ballad?”

  “Call me James.” I helped him slide his arm back into its sling. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Home?”

  I assisted with his trousers and pulled them up.

  He took over with his zipper. My hands brushed over his toned body when I pulled his shirt on, causing a tingling sensation in my fingers—so much so that I snapped my hands away.

  I noted the bruises scattered here and there, and traced one on his neck with a fingertip as I tried to find the words to express how bad I felt for him.

  Xavier held my stare. Maybe it was my culpability that made me allow this moment to pass between us. Or maybe it was the rare connection of two men who’d faced off with death. We’d needed each other in Macau. We needed each other now. Fate had thrown us together as powerfully as one of this island’s storms.

  His attention slid from my eyes to my mouth and then back up again. It could have passed for an intimate moment if I didn’t know him better.

  “How do you get used to it?” he asked softly.

  I blinked, clearing my thoughts.

  “The frogs singing,” he clarified.

  “I don’t hear it anymore.” I yanked open the curtain and came face to face with the nurse. “We’re ready to leave.”

  “I’ll get the wheelchair,” she said.

  “I’m walking.” Xavier leaned on me.

  “It’s protocol, Mr. Smith.” She hurried off for his transport.

  “Mr. Smith.” He rolled his eyes. “Next time call me Kingston. It’s believable.”

  “Kingston it is.”

  Within half an hour, we’d left behind the confines of Cornwall Hospital and I’d driven us across town toward the water.

  Xavier leaned forward in the front seat of my Jeep to better see the grand house ahead when we drove through the gates of Royal Court Manor. He stared out of the window, seemingly admiring the abundance of palm trees that lined the driveway leading up to the estate.

  With no luggage, I’d have to find Xavier some fresh clothes. Eyeing his size, I considered what clothes of mine might fit him. We’d buy some for him as soon as he was up for a trip into town.

  The colonial style interior’s wide-open spaces, decorated with tall palms in lavish pots, cream couches and plush chairs all leant a homey atmosphere. The fans were going at full spin to cool the place. I’d left them like this before leaving to pick him up from the hospital.

  Xavier stood at the entrance of the sitting room. He didn’t say anything—he didn’t have to. His expression was full of wonder at the touches of old-world England mixed with the coziness of the tropics. The effect was of time standing still. This was how it had been designed by Victoria when we’d redecorated. A refuge to slip away to and find peace.

  “You can stay for as long as you need.”

  “Careful, I may never leave,” he said.

  I wanted to say that would be fine, but it was so not me. I preferred solitude and isolation and that would never change.

  I tried to see the room as he did—as though I were visiting it for the first time. I’d been away too long. These rooms were the sacred keeper of my memories of Victoria. We’d honeymooned here. Afterward, we’d come back frequently, so there were enough memories to last a lifetime.

  She should be here…laughing as she ran from room to room, her hair falling across her beautiful face as I playfully chased her through the house.

  I should have kept the photos of her displayed. Hiding them away now felt like betrayal. Still, it hurt to look at them. Grief had wrapped its suffocating tendrils around me, and it had been easier to cope without the constant reminder of what I’d lost.

  I wondered if Victoria’s ghost ever found its way here…back to me, to our home.

  “You okay?” Xavier’s voice broke the quiet.

  I shoved thoughts of her aside. “Iced tea?”

  “I’d love that.”

  “We can drink it on the veranda.” I pointed. “Let me get you settled out there.”

  Again, I saw that look of wonder in his eyes as he stared out at the swimming pool and the ocean view beyond. The sun caused the surface to glint and shimmer, bringing a familiar peace. It really was a breathtaking sight.

  With him comfortable, I set off to make tea.

  When I came back with our cold drinks, Xavier had stripped off his shirt and was lying on a corner lounger fast asleep. I placed his drink on the glass table beside him, then reached for one of the throws and spread it over him. He stirred a little and then fell back asleep.

  I had to remind mysel
f he was in his twenties. The lines on his face evened out when he slept to make him look younger and more vulnerable. I stared at him for longer than I should, my gaze roaming over his exquisite features and that full mouth. He reminded me of a sleeping Adonis…the God of desire.

  I reined in these foreign yearnings…the shocking thoughts that would turn me from a friend to an enemy. I should be ashamed of myself for thinking such lustful thoughts…

  My lips on his.

  His hand wrapped around my cock as he squeezed me from base to tip. Him sucking my dick as he knelt before me, looking up at me with those blue eyes that told me he was grateful for the chance. Xavier deep-throating me with such skill that he emptied my balls along with my mind.

  Great, I had another reason to hate myself. I’d just saved a man from the clutches of evil and was tempted to take advantage.

  This is insanity.

  An absurd imagining from a straight man. Brushing my fingers through my hair, I shook off these thoughts. This is what exhaustion brings, I reassured myself. It changes your chemistry and messes with your mind.

  Lieutenant Rothschild had the ability to find out who had ruined my life and taken away my one true love. I’d brought Xavier all the way down here to use him.

  And that was bloody well what I intended to do.

  Xavier

  Shielding my eyes against the sun’s bright rays, I stood in wonder for a minute, taking in the stunning view of the sprawling ocean.

  My hands fell by my side as I flexed the tension out of them. My sprained wrist hurt, but keeping it in a sling was slowing me down. I pulled it off and tucked it in my trouser pocket.

  Ballad’s influence was in everything here—from the sophisticated fixtures to the expensive art. Though what really stood out was the extraordinary taste of a woman.

  On the way in, I’d noticed that the paintings all had a nautical theme. There were also photos of sea life. This man loved the ocean and it seemed strange that he’d chosen to leave the Navy for MI6. Becoming a widower had changed his life drastically.

  This grand place was both Colonial and Georgian in style. Victoria’s presence permeated every corner. Lush plants added a cozy touch that made if feel like a home.

  Standing on the porch, I remained awed by the endless blue ocean shimmering beneath the midday sun, promising warmth.