“That would be good, Mac. I’m really tired though.” Jacob’s hand gripped the bottom of my thigh and his forehead hit my hipbone as he rested against me. The grunt I made at the contact shocked me. This was not the first time Jacob had rested against me while injured but having not been in daily proximity to him for so long it hit hard in places I couldn’t hide if he remained resting so close to my groin.
“Let me put a couple of stitches in this,” I managed to wrestle out of my straining throat. “Then you can bunk in the spare room.”
“I need a shower,” he muttered.
Of course, my brain went there the moment the words left his mouth. The tight body, naked, soaped up, warm water caressing…
“Mac?” he asked, pulling back a little and looking up at me.
I turned away. “I’ll find the needle.”
Walking away actually hurt and my hands shook as I rummaged for the kit I used to stitch myself up. I wasn’t keen on hospitals and didn’t entirely trust their cleanliness. The simple act of washing my hands again, threading the needle and returning to Jacob calmed me enough to be able to touch him. Just so long as I didn’t look into his eyes, I should be fine.
What was happening to me? When we’d served together feelings stirred inside me, needful emotions but I squashed them, hid them, buried them, blew them up… I used just about every mechanism out there to control the stray musings bombarding me every day while together, while we took on the world. Now though, now I seemed to have lost all control and while one part of my mind screamed at me that every thought, need and image coursing through my body was wrong, I couldn’t stem the flow.
Being gay was not an option for me. Never had been. I could barely use the word aloud and tried never to think it. Long before joining the army at the tender age of sixteen I’d been taught being gay was bad. The day after I hit thirteen, it had been beaten out of me. Being soft, being a ‘homo’, being weak and gentle… None of those things were permitted by my father. No boy in his house would be queer. Compassion became a commodity I no longer understood, alien and scary, a weakness. The army, of course, couldn’t ban homosexuality any longer but they hardly encouraged any feelings which might grow into more than brotherhood.
Until Jacob walked into the barracks as a new member of the 22nd Regiment not a flicker of sexual tension rose inside me around men or women. I had sex with women when they showed interest, but I rarely sought it out, dedicating myself to my work. I’d even had the nickname ‘Monk’ rather than Mac when us lads were released into Hereford’s drinking dens.
I’d seen Jacob slink off with women. Being a handsome, charming, friendly and yes, deeply compassionate man, made it easy for him to find solace. When he did that, when he found companionship in a woman, I found companionship in a bottle of whisky.
Distracting myself again I asked, “You married yet?”
He jerked and the needle slipped, scraping against his skin. “Fuck, Mac.”
“Sorry. Are you?” I asked, hoping against hope that he was and therefore freeing me from these deviant paths in my sick mind.
The emotional part of me, the part he’d nurtured over our time together, rose from the ever-widening corner of my mind and whispered, It’s not wrong, you know that really, it’s not sick or deviant to love another –
The soft internal voice almost squeaked in shock as I ruthlessly shut it down.
“No, not married, Mac,” Jacob muttered. “Listen, there’s something I need to tell you –”
I finished knotting the last stitch. “All done. Some of my best work. Come on, I’ll show you the bunk and you can shower.” I didn’t meet his eyes and I didn’t need to hear his voice any longer, I needed some peace in my house. Time to get my head on straight – which caused another internal bark of sarcastic laughter.
Mumbled words were exchanged. Jacob trying to talk to me, but the walls were firmly in place and so long as I didn’t touch him, or look at him, I should be fine. I left him alone with the statement, “I’m going to make some calls, if you need anything let me know.”
Full retreat proved the only option. The sensory attack of having Jacob in my house, the sanctuary I’d built for myself in this strange mercurial city, made holding on to the realities I’d used to keep the world at bay very hard. I simply didn’t enjoy sex. Intimacy wasn’t something I sought. I liked being alone. I had said it so often to myself that I almost believed the hard lie.
I went to a drawer in the kitchen and fished around in the back for a moment before retrieving an old Nokia 360 and charger. The phones were far more secure than the modern smartphone and without the necessary tech in the house for full cyber protection I let my paranoia have full rein.
Waiting for the phone to have enough of a charge to make a call, while still attached to the wall, I finished making a couple of sandwiches and returned to Jacob’s room to leave them on the side while he continued to shower. I listened to the water for a moment, but my cock started to twitch again so I beat another hasty retreat.
By the time I returned to the kitchen the charge held enough to wake the ancient machine. The happy Nokia welcome made me smile. I remembered life before mobiles, and I remembered owning one of these and being far too damned proud of it. How times change.
The phone number I needed came straight to mind and I punched it in, adding the 0044 of the UK country zone.
Three times the phone rang the other end. “Brant, who is this?” asked a woman’s voice, clipped and self-assured as always.
“Colonel, I don’t know if you remember me, it’s Philip Macalister here, I worked for you –”
“Mac? Well, there’s a blast from our past. How are you?” she asked.
“Good, mostly. Can we talk?” I trusted Brant. Out of all the people I’d worked for, killed for, Brant had been one of the best. Her Unit 12 guys were, and are, the most elite soldiers the UK can produce and sometimes from other SF operatives from around the world as well. Her technical team were pulled from the best cyber security in GCHQ.
“I have 10 minutes,” she said, her voice now very focused.
“I won’t waste them.”
“I know you won’t, Mac.”
I grunted before giving her details of the last few hours. I finished with, “Jacob Hayes is safe. He’s with me but I don’t know where Clark is or how many of his men might have made it out alive. I dare not take Jacob back, that sniper wasn’t interested in taking prisoners.”
“Do you think you’ll remain secure for the next 15 hours or so?” Brant asked.
“Maybe. If not I have somewhere else we can go that’s secure. It’s out of the city.”
“Head there. Once there, text me the GPS. I’m on my way,” Brant said, and the line went dead.
I removed the phone from my ear and stared at it in surprise. “Yes, ma’am,” I muttered.
She might be right about moving away from the house. The sniper would have seen the truck and therefore the number plate. I kept it registered to an address on the other side of the city, more security than I probably needed but it didn’t hurt, however, with some timely internet scavenging I could guarantee the people responsible for the bomb would find me and therefore Jacob. We needed a clean vehicle and we needed to move.
I returned to Jacob’s room and knocked on the door. “Come in,” came the reply.
A long lean length of naked flank and back met my eyes. The towel around his waist did nothing to hide the whip-cord muscles over his ribs. As I’d learned to do over the years we’d worked together, I forced my eyes to the ground, but now the army no longer had control over my life resisting the temptation made everything harder. I had no excuses for keeping him away, except he was straight. This thought gave me the strength I needed to look up.
“I’ve called in some help. Remember when you were injured in Yemen? You were out for 6 months and I was seconded to SIS Unit 12?”
“Yeah, if I remember rightly you did some mad shit with them,” he said.
Jacob’s eyes widened. “Wow, right. I ought to call the Head Shed in Hereford.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea. She told me we need to move on from here, I have somewhere out of the city which is even more secure. Clark is good. He’ll know I’m here and he’ll know some news will filter back to me, even if he doesn’t know I’m already involved with you. He’ll send someone else to do his dirty work, so we need to leave. Neither of us needs another firefight today.”
Jacob sighed and dropped his gaze. “I’m so tired, Mac.”
“I know, fella. I’m happy to drive but we need to leave.”
He nodded and picked up his t-shirt. Filthy and bloodstained. I reached for his hand to stop him pulling it over his head. “I’ve some clothes you can wear.”
Shit, we were too close. He looked up at me and I swear his eyes dilated, his tongue definitely licked his lips. I swallowed hard, unable to drag my eyes away from the soft, glistening surface.
“Mac, I really need to tell you something before we go,” he said.
I jerked my eyes away, focusing on the bathroom door behind his head. “Later. Let’s get some kit together and move out.”
Jacob sighed and his shoulders slumped. “Sure. Move out.”
7
Thirty minutes later I had two Bergens packed with clothing, ORP – ration packs, and some bedding for us. I grabbed the first aid kits stashed around the house, a box of frag grenades, flash-bangs, a couple of mortars and more rounds of ammunition. Well aware I shouldn’t have any of these on the premises, they were all in a locked chest. Leaving without them though made me feel uncomfortable and prickly. I’d faced too many dangers in Africa over the years to go anywhere unprepared for trouble.
I loaded my other vehicle with these, the day-sacks and the gym bags with the larger guns. Next went water, a toolbox and another spare tyre. The roads weren’t great outside the city. Purification tablets, a stove and finally I trudged over to my neighbour to ask her to look after the dog. I also asked her to deny seeing me or knowing me if anyone came looking. Her eyes were wide and fearful.
The last statement she made was, “God, go with you, my friend.” Her elegant hand grasping my arm.
I didn’t think God had ever gone with me anywhere.
When I returned to the house Jacob sat on the front porch with Hound’s head in his lap. Both stared at me with big eyes and I swallowed the sentimental words that wanted to leak over them.
“Time to leave,” I said, the words gruff, my shoulders tense. I walked past him, locked up the house, told Hound to return to his spot, checked his water and food bowls, then returned to my secondary vehicle.
“Bit nicer than the Nissan,” Jacob murmured.
“I don’t like driving it into the city,” I said, starting the engine of the much newer Toyota. They weren’t uncommon in the countryside, but it stood out as too expensive to be safe in the city.
“Is the dog going to be okay on his own?” Jacob asked, craning his neck to watch the animal vanish as we drove through the gates.
“He’s fine. As I said, he owns the house. He doesn’t like leaving it and my neighbour spoils him.”
“Seems a shame,” Jacob mumbled. I watched him lean against the soft padding on the side of the 4x4 and close his eyes. Within moments a gentle snore filled the inside of the truck. I couldn’t help the fond smile I allowed to soften my hard features.
Rather than indulge further in any fantasies about Jacob, I concentrated on leaving the city’s insane traffic system. I followed the N1 and the signs to Kasangulu, it would take several hours to escape into the countryside but once down near Kasangulu I could go right into the jungle and reach our destination. I had bought a small rural property from Danny’s parents as an escape from the city and its politics.
Thinking of Danny made me remember by responsibilities to my men from the museum. I’d become so caught up in the events surrounding my old team I’d almost forgotten the firefight and the injuries sustained by those under my command. An unforgiveable act.
I rang Danny, he picked up after three rings. “Where are you?” he asked before I could get a word out.
“I’ve had to leave Kinshasa.” The guilt nibbled at my ear making it hot and turning into shame. I should not have prioritised Jacob and the SAS team over the others.
“Why have you left, Mac? We need you here.” Danny’s voice held a note of recrimination I didn’t want to hear. It made me defensive.
“I’m sorry, but other things came up.”
“Like your friend?”
I glanced at the sleeping Jacob and swallowed hard. “Yes. His team was blown up. We were outside the building.”
“That was you?”
“Yeah.”
Silence for a moment before he asked, “The men?”
“All dead, Danny.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Listen, I know it’s asking a lot but I really need to help Jacob get through this. There’s a bigger game at play and it’s dangerous. Can you cover for me there?”
“It is not my job to cover for you, Mac.” He spoke with deliberate care, as if to remind me of my role in the DRC and what I would lose by walking away. Or maybe I read too much into it – having Jacob returned to me confused everything so much and my drive, my need, to be with him drove all other considerations out of my head.
I gritted my teeth and tried to see this from Danny’s point of view but I couldn’t responsibly make that stretch. “I’m sorry, Danny. I have to leave the city, probably only for a day or so, please, look after the team, look after the museum and cover for me with the management.”
Danny made a ticking and hiss sound as he sucked air over his teeth. “I am not happy about this, Mac, but I will do as you have asked. Though I will not lie for you. These are my men as well.”
“Thanks.”
He hung up without saying goodbye. Pushing Danny and my job at the museum away niggled at my guilt chip but the elation of being able to help Jacob outweighed anything else, even if it left a bitter taste. I could swallow that bitterness because the sweetness of being with Jacob sated a hunger I struggled to control.
While I drove, I tried to concentrate on Clark’s motives for blowing up the Regiment team, manage my grief for my old friends, and avoid thinking about Jacob. I failed on that last score. My eyes strayed to him with monotonous regularity. The new-to-me scar on his cheek and the slice off the ear tip, the broad shoulders, tight waist – all too clear in the snug t-shirt I’d loaned him – and the snug jeans over strong thighs. I watched his lax hands, fingers calloused, knuckles scarred, skin weather-beaten and rough. His fingers were blunt, nails short, back to those thick knuckles. He whimpered and those hands twitched, the densely muscled forearms tensing.
“Sleep, Jacob. You are safe. Sleep,” I whispered.
I’d done this more than once over the years we’d shared our travels. He calmed, his breathing evening out again and I tried to concentrate on the dwindling traffic as night fell.
During the hours between midnight and dawn we reached our destination. I opened my car door, Jacob still gone from the world, and breathed in the warm but clean air of the jungle. The moist, earth laden air wrapped its warm arms around me after the cool interior of the truck. The farmland and forest were calm at night but full of the sounds of the jungle instead. The beating heart of this world was never still, never silent, unless something was wrong. I gazed up at the sky. After blinking several times, the stars began to spread, and the universe opened its arms and allowed me access to its depths. I heard the car door open and close.
Jacob stood at my side. His fingers brushed mine, forming sparks brighter than any of the thousand suns overhead. “I haven’t slept that well in years,” he whispered
, preserving the sanctity of the night.
Rather than pull away, which I’d done almost as many times as stars overhead, I allowed my fingers to brush again.
Jacob reacted with a jolt and I felt him look at me.
“Mac, I’m gay,” he said in the same soft voice. His fingers did more than brush, they tangled against mine. “I wanted to tell you before you left but the right time never came up and I… Coming out in the Regiment – well, it’s not like there are many of us who admit it. I think Luke Sinclair was it before me. Then you vanished and I couldn’t find you, but I couldn’t keep the secret any longer. I had to be honest. I have to be honest. I can’t live a lie to myself or those I care about any more. I just had to tell you, what you do with the information is up to you.”
Of all the things I expected him to say in that moment, this was not it. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t be happening.
Jacob was... Jacob and I could... Was it possible I could admit to being...?
My mind stalled.
He released his physical hold on me and returned to the truck. I just stared at the stars. I heard him moving behind me but turning would shift our reality on its axis. Nothing would be the same.
“Fuck,” I whispered to the stars. “Fuck…”
I dare not move. If I moved the world would be different forever. My world would change forever. If I acknowledged Jacob’s words the soul of me would change – had to change. How could it not? My fingertips still tingled from the brief contact. His scent still lingered in the thick air. I wanted to weep but didn’t know how. I’d forgotten how to cry around the same time I’d learned that showing weakness meant the belt and being a ‘faggot’ meant you were weak. You weren’t man enough to satisfy a woman.
Jacob was not weak. Jacob didn’t fear his grief when something happened to move his heart to sadness.
I lived in fear.
I lived with aggression and loneliness.
I lived a lie because the truth might break me in a way my father’s brutality managed to do so long ago.
Ultimate Sanction Page 5