Antidote (Don't) (45 page)

“Hmmmm. Money went to her from an untraceable source.”

“So someone with enough financial backing for all of this is hiding her? And in the meantime—”

Gray’s phone cut me off and I shifted to let him pull it free from his pocket.

“Here,” he said. Nothing else was given, just Gray listening, then he slipped his mobile back into his pocket. He looked at me, and he seemed to look for a very long time. “We’re going out tonight.” There was a ghost of a smile. “And this time you’re wearing a suit.”

Giving a frown as Gray headed out of the bedroom, I forced myself to stay in here a little longer, claim some of the space back as my own.

Because real men get dirty.

I didn’t stay for long.

Gray never gave an indication as to what the call was about, or where we were going later tonight, but I noticed his change in mood as I’d climbed in the Mercedes next to him. Something behind that call had his bloodhound side going. We reached home, and Gray left me there in the reception hall and drove away without a word. He came back a few hours later carrying a few things. We waited in the lounge, not talking, just watching the clock. Gray stayed like that until Jack came home at ten. Not much was said, Jack doing his usual grunt, eating, then going off to bed, Gray watching, just waiting as he did so, giving it another hour for Jack to settle. Then I was told to go and have a shower and get changed into the clothes laid out on the bed.

The black tuxedo with matching black tie and white shirt came with a brand name my wages would never see, and I got paid damn well. Part of me questioned why Gray was allowing me to tag along, but then he’d been gently pushing me back out into normality, building confidence, everything I needed to do for Jack. Boxers, socks, and new shoes were also laid out, along with cufflinks and new cologne. It didn’t take long getting ready, quick shower, dress, arrange the cufflinks, add the cologne, and I was ready.

Going out of the door on a Saturday night was another matter, and I nearly jumped a mile finding Gray standing there watching, at the bedroom door, waiting.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. He’d dressed elsewhere, the same classic design, but a light grey suit that made his look and eyes come alive.

“We won’t be out long,” he said gently as I stopped by him. We stayed there for a moment, just watching, and I didn’t realise I was running a touch down his jacket, missing the look—his look—until he stroked at my cheek.

“You’re damn tougher than you look, Jan.” Gray frowned, shifting from my cheek to my jaw. “Hurt being with him, I know. But I’m damn glad he wasn’t alone.” A gentle stroke at my neck now. “Glad you weren’t alone.”

Again that moment of watching, then my lips found his, surprising and scaring the hell out of me. Gray’s reaction, his intensity, was breathtaking, but terrifying at the same time. Pushed back against the door, everything about him threatened to swallow me up and I nearly pushed him away, crying out. We were opposite ends of the continuum, Gray crying out to dominate, me just to find comfort after the hurt. As a triad, the intensity was balanced, but take Jack away, things felt odd, too much for me, too little for Gray, and all of Gray’s passion was suddenly tempered, my look going back towards the west wing, Gray’s following, and no doubt hating how empty love had been as of late.

“Miss him, hmmm?” I said quietly.

Gray’s gaze never quite met mine. “So fucking badly, kid.”

“Come on,” I said, giving a gentle tug at his jacket. “Let’s go see what’s got you going enough to let Jack out of your sights for an hour.”

Just opposite Regent Language Training School in Villers Street, Heaven Nightclub is one of London’s top nightclubs, catering to mostly the gay community and with a reputation for attracting some of the sexiest clubbers going. Three floors offered rave and live entertainment, a first-class laser-light display on the ground floor, people crammed in there from all over the United Kingdom; its reputation for setting the scene for a damn good night putting it on top of the gay tourist hit-list. I’d been here on the rare occasion with a few friends, mostly on Friday night, though, not Saturday, and queuing outside amongst the rows of people, like those lining the street tonight, praying a long working day wasn’t showing. It was rumoured that the bouncers in any London club turned guys away just for looking tired. So smartly dressed and lively was the order for most nights, which if you intended to work your way through the throng of partygoers to get to the bar, you especially needed the lively part.

Tonight it was different. Ed pulled the Rolls Royce to a stop outside the main doors and two beefy looking bouncers dressed in suits and wearing sunglasses instantly cleared the door. A moment later, one was over by the Rolls, allowing Gray to get out. It was strange, I’d never seen this side of the rope barrier, and as I got out, I thought there’d be that wonder, that starry-eyed, playing-with-the-big-boys bullshit I saw playing here from the other side of the rope. That barrier had offered a lot of safety, some of which I regretted losing, some of which I didn’t. Faces were a blur, the bouncers an echo of a past obstacle, but who oddly only stepped out of our way now.

The club acoustics kicked in as soon as we entered, so did the crowd, heavily framed by the laser-lit darkness. Each breath drew in a thin film of dry ice, frosting the lungs slightly and almost making me cough. Men laughed, danced, got a little more heated off on the sidelines, the bouncers keeping a watch just in case it became too heated. Some guys here looked like their jeans were spray-painted on, shirts tight, skin slightly damp from the heat—like a fine roast, basted, cooked, and more than ready to taste. Gray had pinned me as a watcher. Maybe I had been but—

“Vince’s raping the fuck out of your boyfriend—again—and you, you’re just watching. You like to watch, eh, Jan? Is that what gets you going? Jack being rough fucked in front of you?”

Not a watcher anymore.

Someone bumped into me, knocking me slightly, some slip of a guy, drink in hand. By the time I jerked away, a bouncer was already there, doing the
back off
with a glare that earned me a dirty look off the guy. Then I was forgotten as a fresh wave of rave took him off dancing.

“Upstairs,” I heard the bouncer shout in my ear, and I noticed for the first time that Gray was on the staircase, looking over and waiting some distance away. I followed the bouncer, Gray’s look seeming enough to convince him to go in front and pay better attention.

Once we made it to the stairs, the bouncer took us up to the third floor. Overlooking the dance floor towards the far end was what looked like a VIP lounge. Glass partitions kept the normal partygoers separate, showing off more space inside than seemed fair to the people who had paid over fifteen pound a head to get in. I didn’t mind getting the “London look” off the clubbers as I followed Gray in. From the twenty or so people in there, some seemed to know Gray. None knew me, although I wondered if they really knew Gray, if they’d really want to.

Going over to a group of leather settees set away from any prying ears, Gray sat down, and I followed as a waitress came over carrying a whiskey on her tray. Handing it to Gray, she looked at me.

“Orange juice, please,” I said, envying how easy people seemed to smile. After the waitress brought my juice over, we sat drinking for a while, mostly in silence, Gray content to keep it that way as he answered a text.

“Why are we here?” I said eventually, watching a young couple being served at the bar.

“Meeting a contact,” said Gray.

“When’s he going to show?” I said, somewhat distractedly.

“She already has,” he said, not looking up from his mobile. “It’s not guys in overcoats, Jan.” He glanced up, his look not as hard as his words. “You okay?”

I wiped at my eyes, drink held steady in the other. “Just tired. Just need this to be over and—”

“Intelligence takes time.” But there was something about his eyes.

“But something’s got you here. What do you know? What was that call about earlier?” I kept that low, quiet, and Gray leaned forward to put his drink on the table before easing back.

“I need you to ID someone for me.”

“Here?” I rubbed at my head and sighed. “Who?”

“You stay up here at all times, are we clear? I just need you to give me a nod when you see him.”

“You like to watch, eh, Jan? Is that what gets you going? Jack being rough fucked in front of you?”

I stood, started to anyway until Gray eased me back down with a grip on my arm. Vince had been taken down. That only left Henry.

“You see him down there, you give me the nod, nothing more.”

“No, Gray.” I thought I’d be more “ballsy”, maybe ease to my feet, walk over to the huge glass wall that gave a view of the dance floor downstairs, but instead I wanted to shrink further into the settee. “You can’t do this to me.” Heat rose on my neck, to my cheeks, and I looked down at my hands as I played with a cufflink. “Please don’t fucking do this to me.”

“You’re safe here,” said Gray quietly. “You have Mikal over by the manager’s office.” I looked up, and sure enough a guy in his forties, dressed casually in jeans and shirt stood just outside the door marked off-bounds to anyone but Staff. “And there’s Kate and Hector sitting at the bar.”

The youngish lovers I’d seen earlier were still laughing, their conversation hushed. They looked like any normal couple, even down to ignoring me as I looked over. And then I was shaking slightly. “If you know he’s here, why not get him into a police line-up?” I looked at Gray, needing his reassurance that Henry wouldn’t be able to get close.

“I’m not on duty tonight.” Gray glanced at me. “This is for you.”

I looked down at my hands, part of me needing that image of Gray standing there with a bloodied bat, part of me wanting to cry enough and crawl under the covers with Jack and just hide. But Jack wouldn’t let anyone hide with him, and nothing I had left could coax him out. Grinding on some teeth, I eased to my feet and went over to look down onto the dance floor.

The clubbers were one living and breathing ocean; the pull of the music acting like the moon to make them move to its will. It looked like you couldn’t breathe down there, yet people danced, laughed, punched through the laser-light in time to the bass, loving every minute of it.

“Just take your time,” said Gray, now leaning next to me, one hand in his pocket as he peered down.

Nothing would make me forget Henry, with all of his long arms, always touching, feeling hands, that pock-marked face, and cheap fucking gold watch, but I guess I’d recognise his cock more, with how many times he’d stuffed it down my throat after a forced feeding. Giving an unsteady sigh, I was about to push away and go and get a stronger drink, when something by the main bar caught my attention.

The bar itself was brightly lit, casting a good feet of white neon and soft blue light into the clubbers vying for drinking space. Yet face-on to me, in the far corner—

Jack stood talking to a couple of guys, his smile as easy as anything as one guy leaned in and said something to him.

“What the?” I automatically scanned the crowd for Henry, that was my first thought. Then Jack took my sole focus. We’d left him in bed. I’d
seen
him grunt his way to bed over two hours ago. How the hell—

He wore black suit trousers, crisp white shirt, tucked in, then folded up at the sleeves just to give a tantalizing glimpse of what lay beneath, and the two men by him seemed to be sniffing around to find a way in. The bigger of the two, a guy packing enough muscle to push a few trucks about, said something to Jack and Jack shook his head. A moment later he was tugged onto the dance floor by the big guy, the other slimmer man following now he’d taken Jack’s drink and left it on the side.

On the dance floor, the music shifted, some fast-pulsed, deep-base where a guy sang about life always being sexed up, and the clubbers sang along, the two men now moving in close by Jack, the big guy behind, the slimmer one in front, Jack caught between them both. Jack was blushing, not really moving as the two guys rubbed against him. But as the music hit the chorus, the pulse and shout of the crowd instantly infected Jack—he danced, and things suddenly heated up down there. Jack had that same ability to make the most simplistic shift of body against body suggest a thousand and one wicked ways to play between the sheets, and the big guy behind him slipped his hands around Jack’s waist to show just how much he damn well appreciated the invitation. I could almost see his dick punch the air to the heavy beat from here.