Don't... 04 Backlash (24 page)

Logan took a
deep breath, oblivious to what was being said, then he took a few
unsteady steps towards the door before Andrews grabbed his arm and
guided him the rest of the way.

Gray heard them
head towards the back garden gates. Andrews would have pulled
around back, giving them enough cover. He even heard the doors
close on the unmarked sedan, and it wasn’t until the engine started
that Gray moved back over to the table.

Have
their cries stopped yet, Mr Raoul?

The gun
remained within reach, and Gray lost track of how long he sat there
staring at it.

Their
cries....

Jan’s twist of
head away from the piss stream came up.

...
Call me
Kes.

Giving a snarl,
Gray upended the table, sending the laptop and firearm onto hard
tile. “Mine, they’re fucking mine, not yours.” Although the picture
of Jan denied every cry, never allowing him to crawl to safety
because the picture locked Jan there, but it locked Gray there too.
On the outside looking in at the devastation. Never to get
close.

Resting his
head back against the doorframe, Gray closed his eyes. There were
no bugs here. Andrews would have been through the place. That also
went for devices that could pick up anyone who might be listening
in from an external source. Kes knew what hurt and what reactions
it would bring. And all it needed was a picture.

And for what?
The remainder of a set of codes that Elena had stumbled across? And
just how did Kes know she had them?

His own phone
kicked in a moment later and Gray stiffened.

Sue
mae?

T.

I got
tired of waiting for you to call.

Gray stared at
the message on his own phone for a long time.

Have
their cries stopped yet, Mr Raoul? Do I need to hold them
again?

Giving a wipe
at his face, he thumbed in a number and waited for the ring tone.
It was picked up a moment later.

“A call?” Trace
fell quiet, then a little more serious—“What help do you need? When
do you need it?”

Gray managed a
smile, albeit one that tore at his stomach.

Gray sat back
against the headboard, his laptop resting on his legs, the bed
covers offering a warmth he should have felt. Soft voices drifted
by sometimes. Jan’s... Craig’s. Jan showed Craig around the manor
after Craig agreed to stay the night, on fifteen-minute obs with
Jack. Jan hadn’t slept since they’d come back. He also hadn’t been
into the bedroom since they’d brought Jack in here.

The business
over Logan had taken two hours or so. Sleep should have come after
that, but the dark hours were mostly spent catching up with work
that didn’t need doing, not right at that moment. Distraction. His
whole life centred around distraction and waiting lately.

Jack lay
on his back next to him, facing away towards the window. With the
help of Craig, Jan had managed to undress him and slip him into
pyjama bottoms. It was the first time for Jan handling Jack in a
sedated state, but it wasn’t Gray’s. They’d had many a scene with
the MC where the Dom had needed Jack a little less compos mentis,
where security would be even tighter because of it. But besides
that, he’d also handled Jack like this in his late teens, when Jack
had walked back then. It never got any easier. Even when the times
were normal, and Jack breezed through life with that wild smile of
his and no concerns in tow, there was always... this. The
darker...
what if he
slips
?

Gray understood
Jan’s concerns, his fears, and a hand drifted over his own hip.

Jack wasn’t
asleep. He’d come out of the sedative a good ten minutes ago, but
he lay there staring out of the window. Occasionally, he’d move to
wipe the hair out of his eyes, but even that had been just the
briefest of Jack’s own... distractions.

Gray didn’t
push for any conversation. Bones ached deep, with the need to fall
back to sleep fighting the need to stay awake and make sure the
front door stayed locked with Jack here next to him.

And with Jack’s
lonely movement, Logan’s mobile phone buzzed in the drawer next to
Gray’s bed, but he kept his head turned away from any images it
might throw up.

Jack still
stared out of the window, breathing barely detectable. Maybe a sign
the sedative still clung on to the edges, or maybe just a will not
to be seen, to not move with the world just yet.

Gray could
imagine the thoughts he must be going through. The fears over
waking up and feeling disorientated enough from the sedative to
question whether Craig had been true to his word, and made sure
he’d made it home. The fear over whether Craig had even been real.
And just what did he remember?

The next slight
movement off Jack was to wipe at his eyes again. This time hair
wasn’t the distraction, just quiet grief.

Reading through
the frequency hits on Kes as a name and initial via the MI5
database, Gray let his hand stray onto Jack’s hip. He knew Jack,
how he’d come around under his own steam. Yet the moment Gray’s
hand touched down, Jack shifted, curling onto his side, into Gray,
and letting his hand slip under the laptop and the sheets, all to
seek out Gray’s waist and hold tightly.

Gray still wore
his suit trousers, but a grey sleeveless V-shirt kept him decent.
Jack snuck his free arm behind Gray, then pulled his body so close
up to Gray’s side. For a moment there was nothing but warm breath
seeping into the material at his hip, then the gentlest brush of
nose, then cheek, at the hidden skin. Gray screwed his face
slightly, feeling the private request for contact, and despite all
of the bad thoughts that threatened, the most natural instinct to
answer chased the shadows away.

He brought his
arm across Jack’s, almost helping to keep him holding on, and
stroked his thumb gently at the back of Jack’s hand.

Words could
make the best burn, so this silent layer existed between them,
where the quietest of touches were used when speaking came with a
risk of feeding the flame. Gray sought to feed from the words
people spoke, twist them until he broke them into silence. Martin
could easily do the same. Yet Jack... his silence spoke worlds when
the world came tumbling down and that ability to reach out calmed
everything in Gray.

“I’ve been
thinking of getting a tattoo.” Jack rested his head flat on Gray’s
upper thigh, and Gray frowned down at him.

“A tattoo?
Where the hell did that come from?” Gray briefly glanced down.

“Hm,” said
Jack, his leg slipping over Gray’s, and the sleep-fuelled heat of
his body almost chased away the deep ache in his own tired bones.
“My hip.” Jack shifted, almost as if in discomfort. Gray made a
mental note to check his hip later. “I was thinking,” mumbled Jack,
now resting his chin down and giving a sniff, “if I’m gonna be
marked, I need to be marked the right way. By who matters
most.”

Gray closed the
one file he was working on due to the classification, opened
another, then looked down at Jack again.

“A tattoo?” he
found to add to that, then softened his look as Jack gave a soft
kiss at his hip.

“I was looking
through some sites a few days back at work. Sam was thinking of
getting one, then cried out when he saw how many needles went into
a tattoo machine. I’m thinking of getting one and keeping it in my
office to keep the little shit out.”

Gray laughed.
But he noted this also wasn’t a spur of the moment decision.

“I saw two
gorgeous designs and thought about combining the two.” Another
nuzzle against Gray’s hip had Gray shivering a touch. “One was a
blue moon rose. I always associate soft lad to that.” He fell quiet
for a moment. “The other was a silver collar.”

Jack rested his
head down again, cheek to hip. “I’d love the collar to wind like a
vine up and around the blue moon rose,” he said eventually.

“Do you know
blue moon roses don’t actually exist?” said Gray. “It’s the way the
light catches the petal that gives it a blue appearance.”

“Sounds about
right. Some things need catching and keeping in the right light to
bring out their colour...”

Again Jack fell
quiet, his slight shift of body rubbing his cock against Gray’s
leg. Nothing sexual, just the need to stay close.

“Can scarred
tissue be tattooed over? It wouldn’t be fucked up any more?” Jack
almost sounded tired again, and his quiet after he spoke almost had
Gray checking if the sedative had claimed him again. But then
drifts of voices from the hall could be heard moving away and Jack
seemed to still, listening and deciphering each one. Seemed he’d
spent a lifetime of listening outside doors as people talked about
him.

“Logan okay?”
Jack said eventually, and Gray flicked a look at the bedroom
door.

“He’ll get
there. He won’t come near you again.”

Jack wiped at
his nose. “Was there any rape involved?”

Gray instantly
frowned down at Jack. “Martin’s never been about rape, Jack. His
psychological profile pisses over force.” He snorted slightly.
“More damage and shame to be had if there’s agreement to what he
conjures between the sheets.”

“How much shame
was Logan put through?”

Gray didn’t
linger over it. “You wore a condom.”

The grip around
Gray tightened and Jack dipped his head. “I wouldn’t cheat on you.
You fucking know that, right?”

Gray brushed a
touch at his arm. “I know Martin,” he said quietly. “No judgements,
Jack, You’re polar opposites. You’ve had a blood test, though.”

Jack stilled.
“Why?”

“Blood was
mixed on a blade.” Gray’s hand fell back down on the hold around
his waist. “Logan fuelled it last night. He needed you kept there.
He just didn’t realise Martin knocked on his father’s door, not
you.”

“Shit.” Jack
dipped his head, his breath very shaky. “Jan okay?” Jan had no
doubt been foremost on his mind, but usually what hurt most took
the longest to vocalise. “You?”

Gray looked
down on him again. “Let it go, stunner. We’re doing fine.”

“Yeah, because
the director of MI5’s G-Branch can always be found in bed having a
lie-in.” It looked like Jan and Jack had found some subjects to
talk about. Then Jack found the laptop. “What are you doing at this
shit hour of a morning anyway?”

“Afternoon,”
said Gray, and he tapped the digital clock on his laptop. Jack gave
a tired yawn, then settled back down by Gray as if to catch more
exhaustion.

“And?” he said,
voice heavy and sleep filled. “Is it something MI5 won’t peel my
balls for if you talk about it? I know the place is bugged, no
doubt my ass now, so....”

Gray gave a
heavy sigh and closed the lid before resting the laptop on the
bedside unit. “Something... it’s something I should have told you
about a few months back. And Jan. More so you.” He rubbed at his
head.

“Yeah?” Jack
cuddled in closer.

“I handed my
notice into the MC.”

Jack eased up
slowly onto his elbow, now eye-level with Gray. “Say that
again.”

“You heard.”
Gray looked at him.

“Yeah, I
fucking heard. Now say it again in any way that doesn’t include the
shit you just spoke.”

Yeah, the
anger there was understandable. Jack pulled back. “When?” Then his
gaze settled into something else entirely. “What
th’fuck
for?”

Pulling his
legs up and resting an arm across them, Gray wiped at his eyes.
“Everything you said last night, and more.”

Jack eased off
the bed, then grabbed a T-shirt from the drawers. “What I said last
night—” He tugged the shirt over his head. “—was on the back of
that fuck. It was bullshit, meant to get at you, meant to fucking
hurt. And it has.”

Gray stood and
took hold of Jack’s wrist as he passed by, trying to head for the
door. There was a pull to get away, to not be seen, but Gray backed
him up a step, causing Jack to groan as Gray forced his arms
down.

“
Your
fucking lifestyle, Gray.” An angered tear fell. “Your—” He gave a
snarl. “—your fucking
life.
”

Gray pressed in
close, now cupping his face. “Fuck-ups, Jack,” he said calmly.
“We’ve all made them. We’re all still making them. And it’s tearing
at my insides.”

Jack tried to
pull away, so Gray made him focus with a grip under his jaw. More
tears fell over his fingertips and the ease with which they came
had Gray resting his head against Jack’s. Go back a few months, go
back all of these years, Jack’s stubborn-ass mouthy streak would
have seen him walk before tears came. Gray had loved that strength,
or what he thought was strength. Now it spoke worlds as lovers, as
opening up as lovers and letting it hurt.

“Not anymore.”
He wiped at Jack’s cheek, then kissed at his lips. Grief came with
a hint of salt and Gray pulled Jack deeper into the kiss, wanting
more of this honest seasoning.

“My way now,
Jack.” Gray let lips drag-race along Jack’s jaw as he forced Jack’s
head up a touch. The toned skin got a bite, just a nip, and he
calmed at the unsteady groan it won.

Jack pulled
back slightly, grey eyes evaluating everything. After a moment his
face creased and a hand came up to cup Gray’s neck.

“Can’t keep
hurting you, mukka.”

“Best kind of
hurt,” Gray mumbled, briefly closing his eyes as he backed Jack up
against the wall. He pressed his body in close, hands slipping down
Jack’s sides, to his ass, pulling, pushing, lost to his own escape
of breath as hips found contact. “Fucking love it.”