by Jack L. Pyke
“You’re both in good hands,” said Gray, casting a look at Jack. “I’ll try and keep it as short as possible.”
Jan gave a stiff nod, a brief look at Jack, then—“Dinner,” he said to Craig. “You okay to stick around?”
Craig winked over at Jack. “Tough lad owes me a few missing papers. So, hell yes. I heard he was a good cook.”
Giving a smile that didn’t quite touch his eyes, Jan led Craig in the direction of the kitchen.
“Jan.”
He glanced back at Jack.
“We okay?” Jack said eventually. “You and me?”
There was a lot of hurt in Jan’s look, then a brief shift towards the closet door—“Always, Jack. Just... just keep talking to me and letting me know what’s going through that head of yours, okay?”
“Yeah,” Jack said quietly. “Talking’s good.”
Gray watched Craig and Jan head off into the kitchen, then reached in the closet again and took the vial from Jan’s pocket. “Stay within sight of the closet whilst I’m away, Jack. I doubt Jan will go near it if he sees you close by.” He kept his eyes on Jack. “I’ll call Halliday as soon as possible to discuss a heroin detoxification program,” he said. “He can bring in all the professional help needed. But we watch, we wait; we’ll be there in the fallout, but we help get Jan’s head as clear as possible by exchanging this for some methadone. He’s just given the time he needs to come and talk on his own.”
“Don’t play games with him, Gray.” There seemed such an angry tone to that. “The fallout from heroin could kill him. And he’ll know that something is wrong anyway. I’ve come off enough drugs and meds over the past six months to know the shit he’ll go through in the next twenty-four hours. Why this way now? I mean, the whole reason you’re going early now is to find Jan’s dealer, right?”
“Because he’s Jan, because he’s scared, because he’s been pushed into the shadows and wants to stay there and hide all his anger, his hurt—his frustration. Force him out of there, it’ll hurt, Jack.”
“And this won’t?”
“I fuck up going in heavy-handed with him; we give him the room to fall,” he said more heatedly than he intended. He forced a calmness he didn’t feel. “Trace will be here tomorrow; he’ll make sure you don’t walk, and that Jan doesn’t look for drugs away from here. You both stay here. I need you safe here.”
That fight was still there in Jack’s eyes, but it carried a little of Martin too. Gray eased back. “You saw how Jan was around you with Rob’s death. Make allowances, but you back away if he looks like he’ll break. Don’t fuel it.”
“I controlled his fall after Rob’s death.” That was said through gritted teeth. “Jan’s not a threat—”
“He was there when you were found with Vince, Jack. He smashed a baseball bat into Vince’s skull.”
All the anger drained from Jack. He hadn’t been told about this, and Gray very much doubted he’d remember Jan being there when they’d gone after Vince.
It cut deep; Jack’s silence showed just how much “soft lad” was drowning now, and Gray hooked an arm around Jack’s neck, pulling him close. “You can’t stop someone loving you, Jack, but you can help when they’re hurting because of it. You wanted to face him? You do so now when he’s ready, not you. Please. He’s being stripped to the core and is too afraid to speak.”
Jack nodded, anger filtering out of his gaze. “We’ll get him through this.”
“And you promise to back away?” He needed Jack to repeat this; it was one issue that Jack couldn’t risk forgetting.
“I promise to back away.” Jack frowned. “But I hope to God he doesn’t ask me to, not now.”
Chapter 21
Allies
The Rolls-Royce tentatively crunched gravel as it pulled to a stop outside of the manor. Tightening the knot on his bandana, Trace flicked a look at Gabe Hunter when he missed what Gabe had said. “What?”
“All this.” Gabe thumbed his point, how out of the Rolls’ window, the manor sat lit and alive against the darkening backdrop. “I said it’s a bit much.”
They’d made a slow trek alongside the Thames with Trace noting how enough tourists were dressed like Gabe: jeans, white T-shirt, sneakers. But where Gabe’s casual look belonged in the more natural setting of his photography business and dark room, the London “look” of the casual lot here still cried business suits and bankers.
It was a generalisation, Trace knew that, and despite the business class of the streets, none could go home without a level of dust and dirt on their hands. Some from the surroundings, some from whatever banking system bled dry the middle and lower classes. That never changed from scene to scene, nor the ease in how hands could be cleaned at the end of the day.
Trace understood Jack’s OCD. London left you with that need to clean.
Sat next to Gabe in the Rolls, Dare Grealey shifted forward, managing to knock knees against Gabe no matter how small the movement from the larger man. “I’m still getting over the warship they keep in the Thames.”
Trace had seen the sights years back, when he’d been training as a sub under Nicholai, the Master Dom who had also been overseeing Gray’s training as a Master Dom. He hadn’t liked the sights much then; he hadn’t liked them when he was here a month ago looking to talk to Jack and Jan. He’d hired a motorbike a month back, with Nicholai providing an MC safe house on the outskirts of London. Gray hadn’t returned any calls or emails. His mood was clear enough and Trace knew when to leave it alone with him. Jack’s silence was different, in part enforced by the MC psychiatric unit, in part by Jack himself. It showed that Jack and Gray were cut from the same cloth on that score. But Jan?
Trace eased into a smile.
Jan was the unknown, or so Gray had admitted many moons ago.
“Who puts a goddamn warship in the middle of the Thames?” muttered Dare.
Giving a smile, Gabe reached for the door. “The same people who put a ferris wheel in the middle of London, call it the London Eye, then forget the whole Lord of The Rings, Middle Earth, and the Eye of Sauron thing.”
Dare laughed as Gabe got out. Trace’s biker boots made more noise on the gravel as he followed and went around to help with the cases. Gray had asked him to pack enough for the week, with a budget provided for expenses for that and beyond if needed. The offer of money was an insult; none of them were here for the money, but this was Gray’s world, where everything was taken care of and fully funded to ease the damage. It’s why he liked Jack in his own small way, and Jan. They weren’t part of Gray’s world; Jack happy to live under a car, Jan happy to sit counting digital money he’d never earn in his lifetime. It was probably why they’d gotten on so well with Gabe and Dare. No airs, no graces, just moving past formality and living and partying, working-class style.
“I’ve got these,” Trace said to the chauffeur who was about to haul the three cases out of the trunk of the Rolls. Boot, it’s the goddamn boot of the car here.
“It’s okay, sir,” said the chauffeur, his suit jacket scraping the trunk as he reached in.
Trace stopped his efforts. “No.” He couldn’t have said that more flatly. “It’s okay.”
“Oh.” The man pulled back, stepped away. “Okay.”
Trace smiled thinly as Gabe and Dare grabbed at their cases and hauled them onto the gravel.
Off to Trace’s left, Gray had kept that Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe lamppost outside of the entranceway to the manor, throwing Trace back to the first day he’d been invited back here. Made him wonder what world he’d step into if he took those first steps. Although by then he already knew. Gray had fucked hard a few times away from the MC, some penthouse apartment he kept closer to Thames House. It had been strange how “rough fucking” had changed into something else once he’d stepped through and into here.
It was a good place. It wasn’t only for Jack’s and Jan’s sanity that he’d asked Jack to get his head out of his ass and stop Gray selling this place. Good m
emories lived here. Damn good people.
The fountain off to the right seemed to chatter low agreement with him, and the familiarity had Trace breathing in deep, taking in the old and new scents. It was still in the air: the fading burnt wood and smoke from the fireworks from the UK’s Bonfire night. It seemed to last the whole month, bringing with it jacket potatoes wrapped in foil that had been on slow bake for hours, butter, cheese and beans fillings, or chili con carne. Burgers and onions were a favourite here, so too were hotdogs, but Trace had loved the hot pork, stuffing, and apple sauce “baps”. There had been a few bonfire night parties here, Gray always so open and honest once you got in his head.
“You okay?” Gabe’s touch on Trace’s arm brought the right distraction.
“Yeah,” said Trace, and he’d meant that.
“You could have invited Micah.”
Trace had seen Jan’s photo, what they’d done to Jan in that bathroom. “No,” he said gently. “Micah’s safer at home.” Trace could stand a threat to himself, but not to his own sub and one who still reeled from his kid’s death.
As they reached the entranceway, the door pulled open and a familiar face brightened the fall evening. “Ed.”
Ed ignored the hand that Trace offered over and Trace found an arm wrap his shoulder and pull him in. Ed kept him there for a while, the hold seeming bone-weary by each passing minute.
“You here to talk some sense into my grandson?” he heard whispered in his ear. “And you didn’t stop by and show me the courtesy of a hello when you were here a month ago.”
Ah. If Ed knew. Stands to reason Gray would have known he was here too.
“Gray carries a gun and has no sense around Jack or Jan.” Trace kissed at the old man’s cheek, then pulled back. “And sorry about not stopping by last time. It was only a short visit.” He shifted his head towards the noise and low conversation behind him. “This is Gabriel Hunter and his partner, Darrek Grealey.”
Ed shook their hands, offering that warm smile he’d first greeted Trace with. “Come on, you must be tired after the flight.”
“Kill for a coffee,” said Gabe, reaching down to take the case that Ed reached for. “I got these, sir.”
“Manners,” said Ed as he opened the door to let them past. “Please teach Jack some where it doesn’t involve any morphological inventiveness surrounding the words ‘fuck’ and ‘you’.”
Gabe and Dare looked at each other and choked out a laugh. Trace buried his as movement from behind Ed, back in the reception hall, caught his eye.
Jack and Jan made their way down the stairs, Jan a few steps in front, Jack trying to grab onto his arm, looking more than concerned that Jan would fall. Jan stumbled a little quicker and shrugged away from Jack. The half-drunk intent there said he wasn’t coming over to the door for any meet and greet session.
“Problem?” said Trace, and Jan jerked to a halt halfway across the reception hall floor.
With the back of his hand finding Gabe’s arm, Trace made sure Gabe didn’t move from the door. Jan looked ill, to the point he could barely keep straight and stop grabbing at his stomach. A cold sweat kept his brow company, and every now and again, he’d shake as though the draft from the open door kissed every inch of his spine. “Trace.” Jan looked back at Jack, then past Trace, to the door. “Just... walk. I nuh-need a walk.”
Trace shifted as Dare came in.
Dare put the case down and went over to Jan. “You....” Giving a serious frown, he pulled Jan’s look up to meet his. “Jan, what’s going on?” Dare had come from a vanilla lifestyle just as Jan had. His look and hold said everything about knowing how out of depth that made them feel; it had back when Jan had met Dare in America. They’d clicked almost instantly, with Dare stepping out of his sub role to shake Jan’s hand. He’d pissed Jack off doing that, those rules of the MC’s foremost in Jack’s fist and head. Jack hadn’t been in the frame of mind to really study the Dom file he’d been given, and the mistake was there with thinking Dare was the Dom, especially with his more manual-labour-worked frame. And for a Dom to step forward and touch Jan.... Gray had allowed Gabe the space to handle Jack’s mistake. Every Dom had their own guidelines over approaching their sub, and Jack had crossed the line with Dare, not having read the file and staring down Gabe’s sub.
Only there was no lines to be crossed now, just worry. Dare had no doubt seen what Trace had, what kept Gabe quiet now. Jan had changed; his frame was slimmer, skin pasty and white, bones looking stiff, painful to move and....
Jan went into full-on shivering, and Jack slowed his pace on the stairs, giving Dare and Jan all the space they needed.
“You sick?” said Dare, moving in a little closer.
“Flu....” Jan gritted his teeth. “Just.... fuh-fuh-flu, I think.” He looked down and gripped a hold on Dare’s arm to steady himself. Everything about what he just said cried bullshit to Trace. That wasn’t flu. Jan knew it, so too did Dare. He rubbed at Jan’s shoulders, glancing concern back at Trace, then finding Jan again as Jack looked away and widened his walk around them.
“No walk outside, then,” said Dare. Jan went to push past, but Dare squared his body a little more. “No walk outside.”
“I’m good. I’m fine.” Yet as Jan spoke, Dare guided him backwards to sit on the steps. Jan hissed as he was forced to sit, and a moment later, he gripped his stomach again as Dare took off his jacket and wrapped it around Jan’s shoulders.
Jack stopped next to a painting, hands digging deep into his front pockets, shaking in his own right but focused all on Jan’s. Again warning Gabe to stay where he was, Trace kept his heavy boot on tile, light, wary of disturbing Dare’s low talk to Jan, as he went over to Jack.
“You wanna start talkin’?” he said in a hushed voice, his focus on how lowered Jack kept his look. Jack went to say something, even looked at Trace, then an arm hooked around Trace’s neck, and Jack pulled him in close.
It startled Trace. The last time they’d met, they’d nearly been up to fighting, especially when Martin decided to join the party. But now.... Trace slipped his arms around Jack’s waist. “Well, this is... scary.”
When Jack pulled back, he looked as bone-weary as Ed, and the wipe of hand over face caught whatever verbal struggles he’d been calling out lately.
“For a guy who still has a girl’s name, I suppose it would be,” said Jack, gently. “You okay, Trace—”
“You add ‘Y’ to that, you’re fucked, peaches. Again.”
Jack finally eased into a more natural smile, better times, no doubt better memories, and the need to seemingly hold onto it surprised Trace.
“So what’s going on, Jack?” Trace looked over at Jan. “What the hell have we missed?” Footsteps behind him drew Trace’s attention, and he caught Gabe’s wary look over at Dare, for Dare.
“Gabe.” Jack seemed to stall. He looked really uncomfortable now. “You... you okay to be here?”
Gabe went to reply, then jostled Trace slightly as he pulled Jack in. “You’ve changed, Jack.” Gabe’s tone was hard. He shifted back a moment later. “Not sure that I like it.”
Jack looked a little more relaxed, as though each touch handed him back something he was missing. “You still need to borrow a stepladder to neck Goliath over there?”
“Neck?” Gabe frowned at Trace. “Translation just in case it’s not what I think it is?”
Trace was distracted. “Kiss,” he mumbled quietly. Over by the lounge, Gray had come in and now rested against the doorframe. He looked over, but his concentration was on the stairs.
“Jan. Back upstairs, please.” Gray’s voice was quiet, but it carried through the reception hall.
Jan’s smile was so easy then. It took all of the colour from Jack with how it was all for Gray. “I... walk.” He tried again. “Just needed a walk. Was—wuh-when did you get back?” There was a lot of relief there.
“Fifteen minutes ago.” The gentleness in Gray’s voice surprised Trace. “You said you needed a walk
?”
“Just....” Jan itched at his neck, his face, then wiped a shirt sleeve over his brow. “Breathe. Need to... to just breathe.”
Dare put his arm around Jan and rubbed some warmth into his shoulders.
Trace gave Jack a kiss on the head, then gently shifted him aside. He made a point of stopping by Jan and bending to whisper Hello, kid, before he made Gray his sole focus.
“Sut mae?” he said, keeping his voice low, and the ghost of a smile that came off Gray caused Trace to stumble.
“You need to practice those phonetics, Trace.”
Frowning, Trace reached a hand to Gray’s neck and pulled him in. There was no resistance, no pull away, just... the need to rest his head. Trace’s look back at Jack saw no jealousy from Jack, just deep-rooted worry, and Trace nodded that they were all right. Although those photos of Jan seemed to be more than taking its toll with Gray.
“Gabe okay with the contract?” he heard Gray mumble against his neck.
Trace shifted, then drew back sharply when he felt Gray wince. As Trace kissed Gray’s cheek, he caught how Gray gripped his hip.
“Getting old?” said Trace, raising a brow.
“Work wound yesterday,” said Gray, and again Jack glanced over.
Trace left that one there. “Gabe’s good. He’s a little confused, since he’s the first to admit he’s no psychologist, but he sees why the MC and their Doms would be a hard choice for Jack. He knows why you can’t risk Jack walking for the next few days.”
“What did you tell him?” He sounded so tired.
“Everything. They both needed to know before they agreed.” Trace glanced back again, at how Jack kept his talk low to Gabe as he watched Jan. The talk seemed serious, no doubt with Gabe feeling Jack out for himself. “He still came,” Trace added. “They both did.”
Gray kept watching Jan. Something had shifted his concern away from Jack, and all the focus was back on who sat on those stairs.
Trace looked Jan up and down. “What’s he taking?” He kept his voice low.