Dealing in Death: A Death and the Devil Extended Novella

by L. J. Hayward

  Jack and I talked every day. Sometimes only for minutes, other times for hours. He tried to initiate phone sex a couple of times, but it was always derailed by my laughter. It felt so ridiculous, especially when he was a mere twenty-minute drive away. I lost count of the amount of times I nearly begged him to come here, but each time it was easy to resist. I trusted my instincts on this at least. We were talking and I was getting myself under control again. The knowledge that Jack was working with Quinn again didn’t even bother me. Well, it did, but not as much.

  On day six I ventured out of the penthouse and went to the garage. Ken trundled down to meet me.

  “Was wondering if you’d be back.” He eyed Victoria like she was a swan amongst the ducks. In this establishment, she was.

  “I’m paid up to the end of the month.”

  “Yeah, but I wondered if you’d finally been picked up by the cops or something.”

  “Has that policeman been back?”

  “Nah, but I just thought that meant they’d got you.”

  Across the way, a garage door opened and a woman wheeled a black Ducati out. I wasn’t as familiar with bike models as I was cars, but I knew this was a Panigale, a cousin of Nine’s SuperSport S.

  Leaving Ken mumbling to himself about how he couldn’t have the cops just showing up any old time, I went to get a closer look at the bike.

  “It’s for sale, if you’re interested,” the woman said in a smoke-roughened voice.

  I crouched and checked out the body of the machine. “I might be. Why are you selling it?” I almost didn’t care. The image of Jack astride the bike had taken hold and wouldn’t let me go. He loved his Ninja, had held onto it longer than he probably should have, but this was elegant and sleek and I knew more about Ducatis than I did Kawasakis. I would love to maintain his bike for him.

  “Can’t afford it,” she muttered. “My son bought it when he had a job, and now he doesn’t, so it’s gotta go.”

  Within minutes, I was on the bike and taking it for a test ride. It hadn’t been well cared for, clearly, but the potential was still there within the two cylinders and the gear and chain drive system. I loved my cars above all other vehicles, but there was a wildness to racing a motorbike that you didn’t get with a car. The inherent danger of being so exposed to the hard world flying by in blur was a deep thrill but it was an exercise in closer control as well. Riding required a different sort of focus to racing a car that had never suited my needs as well.

  Coasting back into the complex, I decided to buy the bike. It wouldn’t take much work to get it back up to showroom quality and I would love to see Jack’s face when I gave it to him. His birthday was two weeks away, giving me plenty of time.

  Ken had disappeared again, thankfully, and I organised the sale with the woman quickly. I spent a wonderful afternoon going over the Ducati and making a list of the parts and equipment needed. I bought everything I would need on the way back to the penthouse, showered and then went to find Jack.

  It happened without any worry or second-guessing. Just a natural desire to see the person I’d been thinking about all day, a shivering anticipation of simply being near him again. He was, of course, at Quinn’s hotel, discreetly working on the Judge case again. I circled the block twice and the third time found a park directly in front of the building. I’d no sooner pulled in when Jack exited the hotel, scowling irritably. The expression morphed into a wide smile when he saw Victoria, however, and into an even wider grin when I opened the door and told him to hurry up.

  Jack got in faster than I’d ever seen him move before. “Hey.”

  He had yet to lose or lessen his smile. How had I managed to stay away from him for a week? “Close the door, Jack. We have somewhere to be.”

  Once we were underway, Jack settled a hand on my thigh and asked, “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.” I covered his hand with mine, thinking about how he would react to the penthouse, and to the other thing I wanted to surprise him with.

  Jack grumbled a bit, but it was half-hearted and purely for form because he kissed my knuckles and then said he had a surprise for me as well. Thankfully I didn’t have to wait long as we’d arrived at Bathurst Street. I showed Jack the private lift and once inside, alone and secure, he held me.

  All the worry and fear from the past week faded into a small, ignorable mote in the back of my head the moment Jack pressed his face into my neck. I grabbed onto him, my hands locking into his shirt like he was a lifeline.

  “I missed you,” I whispered. “So much.”

  Jack kissed my neck. “You did?”

  He was a brat. “Of course I did. I’m sorry I left, but it felt like the old times, and the only thing I could do was fight or scramble.”

  “So you scrambled. That’s okay. You didn’t go far, and you talked to me. And you weren’t gone for four months this time.”

  Such a brat but I didn’t care. His hand was in my hair and his voice was husky and warm. “I’m getting better,” I said.

  “Yeah, you are.”

  Damnably, the lift stopped and the doors opened onto the foyer before the penthouse door. Jack was warily quiet as I led him in, which turned into what I desperately hoped was awed quiet as he took in the penthouse.

  “Do you like it?” I tried not to hold my breath in anticipation.

  “It’s amazing. This is your place?”

  Relieved and pleased, I chatted about the penthouse and Jack joked as he was wont to do. Then he had to revisit an incredibly sore spot, literally and figuratively.

  “Is this was caused the bruises?” He ran the back of his hand over an old bump.

  “It can be hard work sometimes.” I had, after all, sustained an injury or two from working on the penthouse. “Do you like my surprise?”

  “A lot.” Jack cuddled me. “Do you want your surprise now?”

  Daringly, I reached for his crotch. “Shall I get it for myself?”

  Eyebrows arching high, Jack brushed me off then grabbed a phone from a back pocket. “How about I get it and you behave. Your surprise is on here. I hope you like it,” he added tentatively. “I did some research this week and found this.” He hit the screen.

  Music started playing. I was certain I’d never heard it before, but it was tantalisingly familiar all the same. The melody sparked my recognition, but when the lyrics began, I was transported back to those very first memories I had. The voice on the phone—sweet and melodical—was different to the one in my head—off-tune, smoky, disinterested—but I latched on to it with frantic need. I could almost feel the soft hand on my head, the kisses she would shower on my cheeks when she felt happy or guilty. Could almost smell the mix of menthol and floral perfume. Hear her telling me she loved me, that I was a burden, a mistake, that I was her cherished boy and she would do anything for me. Had done everything for me.

  Then the song ended and she faded again. In her place was the only person who’d ever truly cared for me.

  “Was it the right one?” Jack asked gently.

  I nodded.

  “Was it—oh.”

  I threw my arms around his neck and held on for all I was worth.

  His arms went around me in return. “I guess it was good, then.”

  “Very good.”

  “I’m glad. It—”

  I grabbed the front of Jack’s shirt and dragged him over to the couch. It was now or never.

  “I had planned to do this tonight, regardless. But later. Much later, when I’d worked up the courage.” I removed my glasses and knelt between Jack’s legs. “That was more than a lullaby. It was something I thought I’d lost so long ago. Thank you, Jack. It means . . . so much.”

  Jack shifted slightly, the movement outlining his thickening cock. “Ethan, you don’t need—”

  I stopped his words with two fingers on his lips. “I want to.” I had been thinking about it for a while now, something I wanted to do to show Jack how much I trusted him. It was still frightening bu
t not so much I couldn’t go forward—but only if I was in complete control. “There will be some rules, though. No touching. Put your arms along the back of the couch.”

  Jack responded instantly to everything I asked with a seriousness that almost made me rescind the orders. He wouldn’t hurt me. Still it took me a few deep breaths before I could touch him, and then to reassure myself he was here, that he was willing to do this for me. His thighs were tense under my hands, and his belly tightened when I caressed it, but he didn’t move, didn’t talk, although his gaze spoke volumes when I braved a quick glance. Care, concern, and desire all shone in his dark eyes, the brown irises catching highlights from the setting sun. He bit his lower lip as he watched my hands move over him and air caught in his throat when I grazed his crotch.

  Inspired by his compliance, I undid his jeans and Jack lifted his hips to let me pull them down just enough. His cock strained at the soft cotton of his boxer-briefs and I freed it before I could think twice. This was easy. This I had done countless times before. I’d become extremely fond of watching Jack lose his mind when I handled him like this.

  I stroked his hard shaft and considered getting him off this way. Jack wouldn’t mind, I was certain of it. He didn’t care how it happened, as long as it was me doing it to him. I knew it like I knew how to field strip and clean any firearm in the world.

  My lips touched his cock without a conscious thought. Jack jerked, pulsing in my grip. I squeezed his balls and he squirmed, then settled. My heart had skipped a beat and now raced in remembered fear, but it swiftly reverted to desire. I kissed up his shaft, tasted the moisture at the tip, then explored the other side all the way down to his nest of black curls. The strangled sounds of Jack’s excitement encouraged me, and I licked and kissed and probed with my tongue until he was biting his lips to keep from moaning aloud.

  He was being so obedient that I felt calm and confident, so I sucked the head of his cock into my mouth. Jack nearly lost the fight to keep silent and the leather of the couch creaked under the pressure of his hands. I was doing this to Jack. I was in control and I was making him squirm in pure ecstasy.

  I felt good. Not aroused but pleased that I could give this to Jack.

  It couldn’t have been the most elegant fellatio, or even very skilled, but it was enough to bring Jack to the brink. His breathing was fast and shallow and the quivering in his legs was nearly enough to vibrate the entire couch. Then he went still.

  I looked up and was pinned by his dark gaze. In that moment there were no doubts. Jack was here, with me, for me, completely. He may have slept with Adam Quinn before we’d solidified our relationship, but it was me Jack had chosen to be with.

  Jack came moments later. I hadn’t planned to swallow but it happened naturally and wasn’t as bad as I remembered. Perhaps that was more to do with who and how and why. However, the moment Jack slumped back with a satiated sigh and I let his cock slip out from between my lips, I had to move. It was instinctual and I let it carry me away from him, putting space between me and what had just happened. I got control back when I reached the large window overlooking Hyde Park. Glasses back on, I stared at the vista.

  I couldn’t pinpoint a singular feeling right then. There was a swirling mess in my head and another in my chest. I needed something solid to focus on, so I locked onto St. Mary’s Cathedral. The setting sun bathed it in orange, bright points glinting off the very top of the twin spires. Slowly, the noise in my head quietened and I could start to process.

  I’d overcome a long-borne fear, no small part of which was because of the man on the couch behind me, gently tucking himself away and zipping up. The trust I had in him, that he wouldn’t force anything on me, was nothing I’d ever experienced before.

  Without Jack I would never have that again.

  “Thank you,” he said. “It was amazing. Best ever.”

  Still a little unsettled, I nevertheless sent him a quick smile over my shoulder, acknowledging his reassurance. He was sprawled in the corner of the couch, watching me with half-lidded eyes and a sated expression. The urge to put my head in his lap and have his hand in my hair was strong. Lingering uncertainty kept me where I was. I turned back to the view. The lights were starting to come on in Hyde Park and the traffic turned into chains of white and red, twisting around the buildings like bindings holding them in place.

  Jack stood and took a couple of steps towards me. “You know, I don’t expect that all the time now. Or at all. It’s entirely up to you, Ethan.”

  “I know.”

  “Good.” Another tentative step. “Can I touch you?”

  “Yes.”

  It was said without thought, but before I could question my instincts—or lack thereof when Jack was involved—he was there. Close but not pressing tight. He didn’t hold me or push his face into my neck, his usual post-coital positions. He just stood with me, his chest barely brushing my back.

  “God,” he murmured after a while. “That’s an awesome view.”

  “It’s one of the reasons I bought this place.”

  Jack chuckled. “That, and it’s very defensible.”

  The corner of my mouth turned up. “And that, yes.”

  We stood in silence until the sun finished setting and the view turned into a scattering of jewel-bright lights outlining the shapes of what was now invisible. Sometime during those passing moments, Jack’s arms went around my waist and his chin settled on my shoulder. I relaxed into him, all the doubts fading away at the simple joy of having him back with me.

  Turning in the circle of his arms, I cupped his face in my hands and looked into his beautiful dark eyes.

  “What?” He smiled cautiously.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For giving me exactly what I need.”

  Jack’s smile faded and his expression twitched, like he was fighting some upwelling emotion. His arms tightened around me, his chest swelled, and his head tipped like he was going to kiss me . . . My heart thumped loudly, lips parting and . . .

  Hands going to my arse, Jack smirked and squeezed playfully. “And right now, I think you need a return blowjob.”

  Surprise and relief made me laugh, which Jack took as agreement. Spinning me around, he faced me towards the bedroom and gave my rear a solid swat.

  “Get in there and get naked.”

  “We will be having that discussion about this smacking penchant, Jack.” Yet I was doing as instructed, loosening my clothes as I went.

  “Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, not far behind me. “We’ll talk later. Much, much later.”

  Exhausted from the most pleasant exertions, I slept deeply, and by the time I woke up, Jack was gone. There was a note in his messy script saying he would be back after work. I lay in the massive bed for a long time, luxuriating in the knowledge that Jack would return.

  Naturally, that was when Dejana called. She gave me a time and an address and requested that I provide the transport today.

  I had enough time to dress, settling harness and weapons into place with a small twinge of regret. Things were moving forward with Jack again and the relief these small missions of Dejana’s had given me wasn’t there anymore. Even the threat of the Cabal felt more distant, but if she could ensure they’d never bother me again, then all the better.

  I exchanged Victoria for the Monaro and arrived at the address Dejana gave me right on time. It was a bus stop in North Ryde and Dejana was waiting for me in a pale pink skirt-suit.

  “Not exactly what I was expecting,” she said dryly as she settled into the passenger seat.

  “I thought it best to be inconspicuous.”

  She laughed when I slammed the huge V12 engine into gear and rocketed out in front of an oncoming bus.

  “Where are we going?” I weaved through some traffic then slowed down and settled into a lane.

  “Nowhere right now. Make sure we’re not being followed.”

  As I roamed the streets of north Sydney, Dejana tapped
at the screens of three different smart phones. She didn’t say anything for half an hour, then started giving me directions. We headed eastwards and ended up at Balgowlah Heights, cruising along a scenic circuit.

  “Here,” Dejana said, pointing to a sign that said Arabanoo Lookout.

  I pulled the Monaro over on the opposite side of the road, on the edge of a sports field. A team of teenaged footballers was training, with the attendant parents and vehicles. The Monaro didn’t exactly disappear into a crowd of similar cars, but it stood out much less than Victoria would have. Cautioning Dejana to stay put until I gave the all clear, I got out and looked around. Our arrival had sparked no interest in the sports field population, and there were only a couple of people walking out to the lookout. There was, however, a lot of tree cover to either side of the path that didn’t sit well with me.

  “I don’t like it,” I reported softly when Dejana was standing beside me.

  “I didn’t pick it,” she said just as quietly, smoothing down her skirt.

  “Then why do this?”

  She flashed me a tight smile. “Negotiations are all about give and take, Saint.” Then she crossed the road and headed for the lookout.

  By which I assumed she’d set up the last meeting, the one where she and Owen had been targeted by the gunman, so now she had to prove her good will by letting him pick the meeting point this time.

  I followed several paces back, giving myself a clear line of sight all around her. There was no movement back in the vegetation other than the mild breeze that was coming off the water ahead of us. The walk was short and the lookout itself consisted of a couple of cement benches and a railing around the edge of the drop-off. Before us was a wide view of North Harbour and North and Middle Heads. The water was calm and blue, and a ferry cut across the surface like a blade leaving curled shavings in its wake.