Don't... 04 Backlash (2 page)

You
smiling now?

He was.

Fucking scary, Gray. And Nicholai’s a good man. You know
that. He’s concerned, I’m concerned—the fucking MC is concerned.
Have you even told Jack and Jan yet about what you’ve gone and
done?

Gray gave
a harder sigh.
No.
So nos da, Trace
,
said Gray, not thumbing so hard on the keys, but the weight of the
envelope was a little too much, as was the hurt over opening
up.

If
that’s a Welsh sneeze for ‘fuck you,’ guzzundite. But if it means
goodnight, we’re not done here yet.

Gray frowned.
Would Trace be sitting at Micah’s dining table talking now? In his
own study? In Dare’s backyard as Gabe had a beer and Dare played
American Quarterback, his dog there nipping at his ankles? Not
exactly simpler lives, but certainly in a more peaceful place than
here.

I
just wanted to know how’s your...

Gray waited for
Trace to finish.

...butler?

Now he
choked a laugh. Trace had heard about Jack’s fuck-up over Ed. Had
Jan told him? He very much doubted Jack had, not without wanting to
hit Trace, add a
Y
to
Trace’s name, then run off calling him out on having a girl’s name.
Gray winced. Lover and the ex... they never made good fuck and tell
partners.

How
many times has Ed tried to get back to Wales now Jack’s
back?

Twice,
replied Gray.

And
how many times has Jack offered to
help
Ed move back to Wales?

Forty-five.

Cocky
little shit. I thought he’d be ‘ducking and diving’ out of Ed’s
way, thinking Gramps was the family butler all these
years.

Jack’s taken to hiding out in a few cupboards when Ed’s
around.

Ha! I
knew it. But is he at least hiding in there with Jan? With...
you?

Gray looked
back towards the manor.

No
reply
, said
Trace.
Take some
time out with them, bright eyes. Don’t get forced to the sideline
anymore. Please.

Nos
da, Trace,
replied
Gray, this time a little easier on the touch screen. It did mean
goodnight, and Trace would understand he’d had enough of talking.
Maybe more than anyone, he’d understand why.

One
more thing
, said
Trace.
News on the
spy-vine says Elena Fortello disappeared off Italian
soil
four weeks
after arriving back home. She was under house arrest after being
granted bail
.
Quiet.
Is there
reason for anyone to worry about you now Jack’s mother has gone
missing?

Gray read
the message again.
It’s an international issue, not MI5’s. MI6 have the case
file.
He deleted
their conversation, then threw his mobile on the passenger seat and
shifted into gear. He needed that taste of home now, not talk over
Elena or who might have taken her.

Gray drew
up to the manor and pulled his Merc alongside Jan’s. Jack had taken
to driving Jan’s classic Jag on his rare trips out. Although Jack’s
fine mechanic skills could see him manage most breakdowns, Gray
wasn’t happy about his new choice of old car and the easy access it
gave. For the moment the classic Jag was in the garage, Jack
seeming to find every which way to ease his mechanic’s kick any way
he could
without
actually stepping back into his own garage
business.

Jack had his
reasons for not going back to work yet, as did Jan with doing the
opposite and needing to work.

The courtyard
lighting kept the darkness at bay as Gray locked the Mercedes and
made it over to the reception hall, the woods inside his perimeter
walls gaining his attention for a moment. He was barely through the
door when he heard: “Kitchen. Before you ask.”

Gray flicked a
look up at Ed as he came over and took Gray’s jacket. Because in no
way did Ed ever fuel the whole butlergate scandal. He placed the
jacket in the cupboard just before Gray picked up the mail from the
reception table. “How’s Eve?” he asked eventually. Mrs. Booth had
had an operation two weeks ago to remove a cyst, the details of
which Gray didn’t delve too deeply into. Ever. But his
grandfather’s time was rightly cut in two, the worry in the older
man’s gaze elsewhere, on other things.

“Not too
good.”

Gray
glanced down and hid his smile. Then off to his right, Jack’s Merc
keys swung on a key chain close by. He’d knocked them as he’d
picked up the mail, and they caught the light in their
small,
oh, bet you
nearly forgot me, there
pendulum time count, and its—

Lest
I bring the MC down with any more of my shit, eh,
Gray?

Gray kept his
breathing even. The keys had sat on that peg there for nearly six
months. Over Christmas, over Jack and Jan’s rape, he’d had twelve
days before those six months, of walking past them and blocking out
Jack’s Merc; twelve days of blocking out the anger, of blocking out
the hurt, of blocking out—what? What exactly had he tried to block
out back there before he’d found out about their rape and torture?
Anger, frustration at his own reactions? Jealousy?

Over Cutter and
how he possessed Jack in the porn videos? Or Jan? Over how close
Jack and Jan had become before it all went wrong?

Gray tensed his
jaw, briefly closing his eyes before he was brought back with a tap
at his shirt pocket. “And that?” asked Ed. The envelope was on full
display. Ed knew that if it hadn’t been delivered here, it meant
business, either MI5 or Masters’ Circle.

“A letter.”
Gray thumbed through the rest of the rubbish tagging itself as
mail. His pile hadn’t been tampered with, showing Jack’s old habit
of rummaging through everyone’s neatly stacked rows had stopped.
Gray missed how it had stopped; he missed catching him in the act,
parcel up against his ear.

“Letter?” Ed
sounded sceptical. “Looks like an invitation to me, son.”

Ed always
bypassed the grandson tag, going straight for son. It didn’t say
much for Gray’s father, stubbornness being as much a family trait
as their MI5/6 history. Gray was the protégé of men and mother, and
it would never make for a good mix as bureaucracy surrounding
family life had always been a monosyllabic... fine.

“
Not
a
good
invitation?” Ed brushed down
his own suit jacket. The chill to his face and hands said he hadn’t
been back long either.

Gray turned
away and left the mail there on the table. “Let’s go find out.” He
remembered the last time he’d offered a taste of the MC and BDSM
control via handcuffs around Jack, the cuts and bruises that Gray
had nursed in the darkness of his own bedroom. Jack didn’t do
social, and when he did... it left Jan hiding up in the corner
covering his head, and Gray picking up the broken furniture.

Ed’s hold on
his arm stopped him. “Look, son, Greg’s here.” He eased his grip.
“Your head of security went with Jan to pick him up.”

Giving a frown,
Gray looked back in the direction of the kitchen and the
possibility of sitting across the table from Jack’s father. Facing
Jack and Jan had been hard this past month, but Greg...?

Giving a nod,
he headed for the silence of the kitchen.

Gray
expected to find Jack either cleaning up from messing with Jan’s
Jag or chasing the next best meal he could coax out of the kitchen.
Jack had learned to cook in his late teens, mostly because Ed would
try and lock the kitchen down every time he’d see Jack padding on
through with his
feed me
cry
that came with a bottomless pit. And lately, Jack had honed those
culinary skills. He’d been a good cook before, able to make a meal
of almost anything available in food storage. But over the past
month, he’d just had... more time to practice.

A look at
his watch told Gray that Jan would have been home over an hour ago,
too, which is when he’d picked Greg up with Ray, Gray’s head of
security. Despite the quiet between Jack and Jan sometimes, Jan was
usually on the receiving end of Jack’s culinary skills. An empty
plate and full stomach had become as good as a lover’s hold.
Almost. Lately, Jan never really seemed interested in food, other
than the basic
chase
a pea around the plate
that got him by.

As he found his
way into the kitchen, Gray gave a nod to Ray first, letting his
head of security know one-on-one surveillance was over. Standing
over by the unit, Ray unfolded his arms and nodded back before
leaving.

Jack’s dad sat
at the kitchen table, and the silence playing around it was more
than a little uncomfortable.

Jan sat across
from Greg, looking a little tense, rigid. He’d made his dress
casual for the night, but there was something seriously wrong with
his lean into Jack as Jack sat next to him. Hiding there at the
table, Jan’s body language was no better than a bomb-blast victim
caught by the lens of a cameraman, poised to run, but never quite
allowed to find normality again and take a step away. Not with how
the photo locked him in position. Jeans were ripped at Jan’s knees,
showing a paleness to skin that best fitted a dance with dry ice,
and a white shirt finished the need to get back into normality and
blend in. He’d occasionally glance to his right, almost offering a
smile to Jack, who looked ready to drop social and pull Jan back
behind the safety of any locked door.

Jack
nuzzled almost in so close, watching Greg from the opposite side of
the table. Jack’s hair had grown longer, almost done to hide his
eyes sometimes, but his time in the Master Circle psychiatric unit
brought back that
fight not flight
look of his late teens. Black strands offered their own
wild cover, escaping over the nape of his neck, hiding the silver
grey eyes and deep tan that trademarked Jack’s look. The hard
reflection found in one of Cutter’s videos was there on display,
too, giving every sign that Jack was ready to hit out at anyone
foolish enough to get near what was his, but there was falseness to
it. He’d fallen down hard and stood trying to hold mountains and
Jan up on breadsticks. He called Jan into him with a murmur of his
name, one that Jan heard, but with a small smile that
said...
barely
.

Slim
black trousers offered a class all of its own where Jack was
concerned, but like the night in the maze when Jack had first met
Shaun Brennan, he still had that
fuck you
to authority and class by opting for a black sleeveless
V-shirt. It showed off the deep tan to his arms and the muscle tone
that seemed in constant flux as he tried to keep Jan close. With
the long hair, the whole gypsy look was finished off with a black
rope bracelet that Jan had bought Jack for his birthday. It would
no doubt be the one and only time that Jack would wear it, his
history with any type of collaring bloodying and bruising those
caught in its wake. Jan also wore a bracelet, but his was a thin
white-gold chain; Jack’s gift to Jan for his birthday, both coming
in months after the actual dates.

Gray hadn’t
bought them anything. He’d also refused what they had bought him
for his.

All of the
fuck-ups, anger, and lack of action on his part had caused
everything that was wrong between them over there. Jan looked
skinny enough to slip through any crack, Jack was ready to slip
right in there to look for him, but only after glancing up and
checking that Gray hadn’t caught that private jet back to Wales
after all.

And Jack
was giving clear
time out
signals now. “Dad, fucking peach—” He eased up, seeing
Gray. “It’s great as ever that you come out for my shit,
but—”

As Gray
went over to the coffee percolator, he flicked a look at Jack, not
liking how Jack still kept changing his natural mouth from life
being
fucking
peachy,
to
great
. Not
always, just when Gray caught Jack off guard.