Antidote (Don't) (47 page)

“
He’s fucking poisoning me
.”

Gray stroked at Jack’s face, eyes screwed shut. “Yeah. I know. Christ, I thought you were coping, Jack.” He shook his head. “I know you’re trying to help him, Martin, that he’s asking for your help. But you need to give him back, let him stop hiding. Please. He needs to face this and know there are people whom he can hide with again.”

“Gray?” I got a look back at me and it was very distant off Gray.

“Jan, tell Ray he’s to let Ed bring his car around to the back.”

Giving a frown, I relayed the message to the man outside, then shut the door to see Gray ease off Jack and pull him to his feet. Jack stood there, looking down at the knife he’d picked off the table, his pupils fully dilated as though he were in desperate need of sleep. He had such a strange fucking stare.

Heart pounding a little faster, I went over to find Jack looking at me. There was little recognition in his eyes. He gave the same glance to Gray, then something shifted, a touch, a slight flare of panic as he looked around the staffroom again.

“Easy,” said Gray, taking off his jacket and slipping it on Jack’s shoulders. The movement from Gray looked slow, weighted, troubled. He’d drained any feeling from his face, slipping back into whatever business face he kept calling on, but something was slipping, starting to take longer for things to slip into place, because as Jack flinched, looking at Gray like he was Vince, all blood and bone to boot, Gray seemed to deflate, pull back. “You’re at a nightclub, kid, Heaven—”

“Heaven?” Jack seemed to shake more life into himself hearing that. “I...” Again he looked around, frowned. “Clubs.” He shivered. “Don’t... don’t do social too good....”

“No,” said Gray, “you haven’t done social for a long time, not like this.”

A knock on the door saw Ray poke his head in and give a nod.

“Jan, can you get him home?”

“Just what the fuck’s going on, Gray?” I said. Although he’d asked a stupid question; of course I’d get him back.

“No.” Jack was rubbing at his head, his voice sounding so slurred. “I’m...” A look at Gray, me, he seemed to focus a little more. “Just need to go get some sleep,” he said. “Stay here, Jan.” He came over and the world stopped turning for a touch as I felt a hand slip around my neck and pull me so Jack’s lips pressed gently against mine. “Mmmmm,” he said pulling away. “S’good that you’re spending time together, baby.” He smiled, kissed me again and it seemed to last a lifetime. I needed it to last a fucking lifetime. “Old mukka here.” Jack was with us a little more. “He’s not such a tough bastard, needs looking after too.”

Jack was gone then, Gray’s words to Ray lost as I stood there. Just stood there.

“Jan?” In the unfamiliar surroundings of the manager’s office, it took a while to realise someone had called my name. “You okay?” Gray stood in front of me, his hand on the back of my neck, mimicking how Jack had touched me, forcing a shiver.

“Gray...” All I had was Jack’s fading taste. “That.... That wasn’t Jack.” I shrugged, looked at the door and how it had closed behind him a few minutes ago. “What the fuck was—”

“I met Martin a few times as we tried to get Cutter sent down,” said Gray, and he took my attention now. “Martin usually, but not always, makes an appearance in the aftermath, when Jack thinks he has no-one to turn to. Stress would build to a point where he’d drop all identity, sometimes for a few hours, sometimes days, and just... walk. Only his walking would lead him into Martin, into the likes of April Leamore, and the whole reason behind why Jack doesn’t do social. Period.”

“But you said Martin slept with women back then, that he was in to women. Why men now?”

“Sexual orientation doesn’t come into play with Martin, it didn’t back then. Jack’s perception of his past, he has difficulty remembering, and events become warped or shrouded. Martin will find whatever Jack needs: male... female, Dom... sub, and find a way to cope, no matter how brutal he is with that person and the people around them. The very last time, he’d just gone nineteen; he’d had a bad day of OCD and CD playing with his head and mouth. I’d caught him just before he slipped. Jack had stood at mine looking out at the forest, that dead-man-
walking
look in his eyes.”

“The night you painted in the loft?”

Gray frowned a ghost of a smile. “He told you?”

I nodded. “Some.” All of that just touching the tip of the iceberg. “He never mentioned—”

“He’s known you for what? Seven months, Jan? If he told everything’s that happened, and I mean over events surrounding the Jack I met, even you would take several steps away from him. Martin seeks to find a way to ease the stress that Jack can’t fix in his own life. Disassociate Identity Disorder,” said Gray. “He drops everything he knows. Main causes are stress, trauma, abuse...” Gray looked back by the door. “His absences had eased,” he mumbled quietly. “After that shit over a month ago, they’d damn well eased.”

“And he’s been here, with them, and they’ve—” Anger battled confusion, then went straight forward into grief, only to throw me back into anger again. “You couldn’t have tightened fucking security?”

“And do
what
, Jan? Lock him in a room and drug him when he’s already still locked away in his head, back with Vince—his drugs? Nobody has seen this since Jack was a teenager,” said Gray, looking just as pissed. “And with Jack being rap—” He stopped again. Gray couldn’t finish it. He couldn’t acknowledge verbally what had happened to Jack. “I’ve had people watching him twenty-four seven, Jan. You needed your own space and—” Gray looked at his watch. “Fucking bollocks,” he spat, then spun away to the door.

“What?” He didn’t answer, just left. And like a dummy, I stood there staring at the door. After a few minutes, I shook it off and went after him. Gray stood outside talking to a bouncer, the big man who had shown us in, and whatever he said back to Gray didn’t go down well.

“Not your fault,” said Gray as I joined them. The bouncer gave me a look, then turned away as a black Mercedes pulled up. “Get in,” said Gray. “This night’s been one huge fuck-up after another.”

I was about to when I caught sight of a car passing ours. Heat flushed my cheeks, practically welding me to the spot, and it took Gray saying something to snap me out of it.

“Henry?” said Gray. I could barely nod. Henry was driving a red sports car, one hand resting casually over the wheel, the same cheap and nasty gold watch around his wrist. A young kid was in the car next to him, barely looking legal, and as much as I wanted to shout a warning to the kid, I couldn’t move.

“Good. Not such a waste after all,” I heard Gray mutter as he waited for me to get into the Mercedes.

I couldn’t get over how quiet things were when we got back to Gray’s. The Rolls Royce waited out front, suggesting Ray wasn’t relaxing his watch over Jack until given the all clear. True to form, we found him standing a little back from Jack as Jack sat at the kitchen table. A half-eaten sandwich was pushed out in front of him, which allowed Jack to fold his arms out and rest his head down. Ed was there too, looking just as confused as Gray sat opposite Jack.

I rested next to Ray, and it was only then that Gray seemed happy enough to let Ray go, and gave him a quiet thanks before the man left.

Then only one man took Gray’s attention. “Look at me, Jack,” he said quietly.

“Gray...” A heavy sigh, Jack gave a slight twist of head, no willingness to lift it, just settle into sleep. “I’m fucking knackered.” And he sounded it, voice all muffled, thick, and heavy.

“Do you even know why you’re so tired?”

Jack pushed up and wiped both hands over his face. “Jesus.” He let his hand fall on the table in front of him and his pupils still had that dilated state to them. “What the fuck’s your problem with me now, eh?”

“Things swimming a little?” said Gray? “Limbs feel heavy, like you’ve just pulled yourself out of a swimming pool, and all you want to do is go to sleep?”

Jack half-heartedly twisted his wrist to look at the time. “Well, it’s getting on for one in the morning.”

“What’s the last thing you remember before Ray brought you home tonight?” said Gray, and Jack looked around the kitchen, by-passed me, then sighed.

“Taking a shower upstairs,” he shrugged, “getting into bed.”

“What time?”

Jack let his gaze fall on Gray, and it looked a little angered now. “About fucking ten fifteen, why?”

Gray’s lips thinned. “Because you just said it was getting on for one.”

“And?”

“And you went to bed at ten fifteen,” said Gray. “Where are the missing hours, Jack?”

Jack went to snap something but stopped himself.

Giving a nod, Gray eased his elbows onto the table, one hand brushing at his lips, the other gently tapping at the table. He looked ready to hit out. “Martin’s back on the scene and going social—”

Jack never even gave Gray time to finish before he was pushing his chair back, then heading for the exit by me, trying to get out. Gray stood, caught hold of his arm, to which Jack only pulled away and snarled, “Fucking back off.”

“Jack,” said Gray, getting close, “you’re on lockdown here until I can call Doctor Halliday in.”

“Like
fuck
you’re putting me on lockdown,” snarled Jack in his face. “I do social once—”

“
Three times
,” shouted Gray, twisting Jack around and forcing him to sit down, physically pushing him down into a chair. “Three fucking times you’ve gone social and twice you’ve gone threesome with two other men.”

Jack paled very quickly, enough to force Gray to a crouch and pull Jack’s head to his. “I’m sorry. Christ, Jack. It shouldn’t have come out like that. It’s just,” Gray ran a hand repeatedly through Jack’s hair, his hand shaking a little more each time, “I need you to be safe. I need, I really need you to stay fucking safe now, kid, I—”

Jack pushed away and stood. “This shit’s all about what you fucking want, what you fucking need. I—”

“
What
?” snarled Gray, now up in Jack’s face, hands either side of his head. “You tell me, Jack, you tell me what you want, because this silence is fucking killing me. Tell me what you want, what you need—and I’ll sit and re-order every sodding piece at your fucking feet just to see this fucking head of yours calm
.
”

Jack tore Gray’s touch off, backed away, stumbled into the unit behind, and then turned as he knocked the crockery and plates into a tremble. Seeing the threat of broken plates, he grabbed onto the display unit, giving a cry, just trying to stop things from falling. Only it didn’t work, he couldn’t stop the fall, and a few plates slipped and broke on the floor.

“
Bastard
.” He head-butted the unit with another cry. “
Control of my fucking head, Gray. You give me that.
”

Gray was already there, trying to turn him around—see the damage he’d done, but Jack pushed him off. Blood ran down his nose from a cut on his forehead, trickling like a tear down the corner of his eye, over his cheek. “Did you fucking bother to stop and ask whoever it was if they used protection, because, fuck,” he let out a laugh, “seems I forgot. Or at least I think I did. And Christ knows I can’t catch anything else and bring down the MC any fucking further, right?”

“They would have used protection,” said Gray, trying to get close and wipe at Jack’s cut, “they were Doms for—”

“
Doms
?” Jack’s eyes were wide as he pushed Gray’s hands away. “Fucking Doms?” Another laugh, hand now running through his hair. “Good old Martin... At least he got the sex right this time around, eh?” He gave a groan. “I bet he pushed the fucks, pissed them off enough to really go for fucking me hard.”

Jack grabbed onto the unit and tipped it up, sending wood and crashed-up crockery all over the kitchen floor. Ed cried out, but it was lost to Jack’s. “
Fucking bastards,
” he shouted, now kicking the shit out of the unit. “
Explains why I’ve been waking up as sore as fuck on a Saturday, that’s for fucking sure
.
Fucking cunts, fucking
—”

Shifting from the unit, I grabbed Jack by the waist and dragged him out of the kitchen. Pinning him against the wall, I kept him there, hands either side of his head, my body against his, making sure his gaze focused purely on mine.

“Calm it
down
.”

For a moment he stilled, completely calmed, frowned.

“Love the bones off you, Jack,” I breathed against him. “Things are so fucking tough right now, you can’t stand being by me, but you remember.” I gave him a gentle kiss. “Remember I love the bones off you: mind, body, soul, every fucking inch. I always will.”

He responded to my kiss, just a gentle move of lips, slight play of tongue, and I heard him catch his breath as his semi dug into my hip, automatically stirring mine.

“Fuck.” Jack’s struggle with his senses slammed headlong into him, and I felt him try to push me off.

“No, just a few seconds, please.” I covered his nose, blocking his reaction. “Please, just a few seconds more, please, baby.”

But he struggled, first against the sickness making him choke, then the struggle to breathe as I held on too long. Pushing me away, shaking, he looked down, not seeming to look at anything but past events. “Fucking turned you on.”