Backlash

by Jack L. Pyke

“Substitute for heroin,” said Gray. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

  That made Trace frown as he glanced at Jan. “I’m not even questioning how yet, but he knows something’s wrong, and he isn’t saying,” he mumbled, and Gray nodded.

  “Get everyone settled. We’ll talk properly later.”

  “West wing?” asked Trace.

  “I have staff to handle the cases. Just... you take it easy, Trace.”

  “I know I’m old, but I can still manage to lift a case or two.” Trace looked Gray over. “When was the last time you ate and managed to keep something down? You’ve lost weight.” The suit still tailored his maturity damn well, it always had, but even the fine cut to the Westwood couldn’t hide how the call had gone through to order a drop in size. The stubble, sculpted with the same precision, was a distraction, and—“Look’s good. Next thing I know, you’ll be trading those fast rides in for one of my Harleys.”

  Gray flicked a look at Jan... Jack.

  “Yeah, I know,” said Trace. “You like life in the fast lane, with room for two passengers.” He glanced over his shoulder too. “I’m really up for finding out who’s still trying to fuck that up for you.” He looked at Gray. “Seventy-two hours... now down to forty-eight. How close are you to finding those missing codes?”

  “There’s been some... complications.”

  Trace figured they surrounded Jan with how exhausted Gray looked. “Then you bring me up to speed with those, and we find a way to keep Jack and Jan’s heads down and away from any trouble over the next few days. Your priority is those codes. Clear?”

  Chapter 22

  Breaking Points

  Next morning, the sounds of plate on plate and low chatter from the kitchen table distracted Trace as a mug of early-morning coffee burned heat through into his hands. It had surprised the hell out of him when Ed had reached up into the cupboard and pulled it out. The larger-than-life mug had been a gift from Gray years back, one of those quiet jokes where the suggestion of a long night ahead came with a big mug of coffee and enough fine food full of high calorie burners that said Trace would last a week under Gray. He doubted Ed knew the significance, and as Ed took a seat next to him, Trace was with Jack when it came to ducking out of the discussion before things got too cheek burning.

  Speaking of which, Jack came padding through, scratching at his head, but seemed to stop when he saw Jan look up. There was confusion from Jan, one that questioned which demon had just walked through the door, and Jack seemed to run with the need to keep the waters calm for him.

  “I’ll...” He thumbed behind him. “I’ll catch something later—”

  “Jack,” said Gray, gently. “Sit down.”

  “No.” His focus was on Jan, how Jan wiped a shaky hand across his lips and nearly stood. “It’s okay, you lot eat.” Which no doubt meant Jan, for God’s sake, eat. I’ll give you all the space you need until you’re ready. “I have some work on in the garage anyway.”

  It was quiet as they watched Jack head out back the way he’d come. It had been the same last night, with Jack giving Jan not so much a wide berth, but just... space. The Detox program that Gray had sorted with Doctor Halliday, and no doubt making sure the dealer complied with, was hitting hard. But that didn’t explain why Jan seemed more focused on his own hands.

  “Jack likes his cars, hm?” said Dare, nudging at Jan’s elbow.

  He got no reply, just a frown from Jan who kept turning his hands over, looking at them. Gray had hardly touched his breakfast either, so Trace heaped his extra few slices of bacon onto Gray’s plate to... recommend that Gray eat something.

  “You’ll need to know the security protocol for access to and away from the manor,” said Gray, but Trace filled in the details, bringing Gabe and Dare up on the security issues surrounding the manor. Aided by Ed’s knowledge, mention of all the CCTV and surveillance around the grounds already had Gabe looking ready to hightail it home on the next motorbike, and twice Trace had to make sure Gabe focused back on listening. Gabe had all the room to breathe he needed with being here, but nobody was taking second chances with anyone getting onto the property to disturb that. They played safe, they stayed... safer. But they kept Jack from walking, Jan from scoring away from his dealer. Drug abuse was something they were all too used to, more so Dare and Gabe and how they’d handled Kyle over in America. Gray needed space to work this out; they’d make sure he got it.

  “Now that it’s light out,” said Gabe, looking as though he was enjoying his full English breakfast, “Jan, can you show us the CCTV around the grounds?”

  Not having touched his breakfast or coffee, Jan sat there, hair wild, still sleep-swept. Fingers were bitten raw. Not the nails, not the cuticles, but the skin itself, sometimes down to the knuckle on his thumbs. They bled in parts, or showed painful patches of red where skin had been bitten back. If he looked bad last night, the hours between had seen him cry out a few ghosts, and that long stare down at his own form of self-harming didn’t seem to judge why parts of him were missing. Gray had fought some of those demons with Jan last night, but Jack had backed away from the bedroom, taking to the next room and giving Jan... space, even when Jan had cried out his name.

  As he watched Jan, Trace wondered what was going through his head. Why he sat there still denying his addiction. The fear was obvious, but sometimes, like now, that look.... It wasn’t for Martin, it wasn’t for Jack, just... his own hands.

  “Jan.” Gray brushed a touch over Jan’s thumb and something stirred Jan. They shared a look, a shared... something. Understanding on Gray’s part, guilt on Jan’s? Trace didn’t know; he couldn’t tell. Gray had shown every tough-love going with Jack in the past, yet here was this gentler side with Jan. Trace understood the tough-love side, but how Gray acted atypically with Jan...?

  “Work,” Jan mumbled eventually, and Trace got a look from Ed, who’d sat quiet since Jack had left. “I’m at work today.”

  “Not a good place for you to be.” Gray reached over and poured Jan a fresh coffee into his own empty mug. “You’re ill.”

  Jan was back looking down at his hands and they started to shake. Yeah, thought Trace. He needed work for one reason only.

  “I’ll be fine,” mumbled Jan.

  Gray left it at that, but he didn’t look happy. Trace knew all the surveillance would be there keeping a close eye on Jan at work, but it could still cost him his job and sanity.

  “You sure?” Dare inched the sugar over, but Gray shook his head. Jan seemed to like his black, with no sweeteners on the side. “I bet we could get Jack to ditch work too? Maybe go see—”

  “Work.” Jan looked up at Dare, offering a very tired smile that soon faded. “Said he was busy, right?” He eased back in the next moment. “Be good to see you, though. Normal.”

  “Deal,” said Dare.

  Gray looked away, but his hand stayed on Jan’s for a moment longer. “Okay.” He pushed his chair back, looking at his watch. He was already late, but he’d made sure he’d taken time out to keep life and breakfast normal for Jan and Jack. “I have to go.” He cast a look at Trace.

  Trace picked up on the hint and grabbed his own coffee. Giving Jan a smile, he indicated with a nod of head that he’d walk Gray out.

  “Keep an eye on them both.” Now in the hall, Gray turned up the collar to his long black overcoat. “Please.” He looked around, maybe to see if Jan had followed, maybe to see if Jack had found his way out of hiding. The only change for the good last night had been Jack’s look at Gray. It didn’t ask if he needed to catch a plane back to Wales, or if he’d be back after work, just how he’d like his coffee when he did.

  It was a good look. But it was one Gray seemed to miss seeing before he went to work.

  The confusion just came when they both looked at Jan.

  “Yesterday was spent tracing Logan’s phone records, also questioning if the source of the codes knew anything about it only being a partial list. Jan’s dealer was traced to work and she’s bee
n warned to give Jan methadone, nothing more.”

  “No arrest?” Trace frowned.

  “Take away his source, he’ll go elsewhere. This source stays controlled until I’m ready to do anything else.” Gray ran a hand through his hair, the movement showing off his firearm. Trace buried a snort knowing just how that control would have been gained. As for the source of the code? Gray had discreetly brought him up to date on the codes, but the “source” itself had gone unmentioned. Gray told him what he needed to know; he had an idea this was the one thing he didn’t need to know.

  “Jack won’t be happy when he finds out Jan’s going into work,” added Gray. “Keep an eye on how they both react.”

  Trace offered him a sip of his coffee and Gray took it. Trace watched him for a little longer.

  “What?” said Gray.

  “He needs Domming, Gray.”

  Gray handed him back the coffee. “Jack?”

  “Jan. Not in the bedroom; he’s not one for that outside of playing. He needs something else entirely. He’s looking at you to help him get through this with Martin and the drug abuse.”

  Gray held his gaze. “You don’t have to live a BDSM lifestyle to be there for someone. Jan... his vanilla side needs preserving; it’s who Jan is. He needs to know it’s okay to admit he has a problem as much as Jack did.” Gray reached for his mobile when it let them both know he had another text. “And if Jan can’t find his voice, admit to a problem, and gain a secure footing, then it’s not fair to put any pressure on him with our lifestyle.”

  Trace came closer. “When he needs to let go of the responsibility, he’s crying out for you to take the responsibility off his shoulders. It doesn’t happen often, but he needs something where there are no obligations for him in the bedroom, but his life and harder life choices would get plenty of attention from a damn good Dom.”

  Gray looked back towards the door.

  “Controlling his habit and Detox, his movements, you’re already in that role caring for him body and soul. He just needs to hear you acknowledge it and explain what it means and represents, that this is never just about sex.”

  “He needs to know it’s okay to break, to say he needs to break, Trace. Nothing more. I like Jan the way he is.”

  “Then what else is going on between you two?”

  Gray frowned and Trace shifted slightly. “I saw his fascination with his hands. What happened?”

  Gray didn’t say anything, not for a moment. His ease of gaze back to where they’d come from perhaps ensured Jan wasn’t around.

  “Gray?”

  “He nearly killed a man.”

  Trace couldn’t picture it, not Jan, But then that look down at his hands.... “So it’s not just the drugs, the rape... the demonology surrounding Jack and Martin.” Trace gave a hard sigh. “Who?”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “Who, Gray? It was enough to mention it.”

  Gray sorted around for his car keys. “Vince.”

  “Jack’s rapist?”

  Gray nodded. “Baseball bat to the skull and jaw.” He had that same stare down at his hands, but now they focused on the phone.

  “Hey,” Trace said gently.

  Gray looked up and offered a smile. It still looked tired, very much lonely and lost. “Don’t aggravate Jan in any way, he’s unstable. Make sure Jack doesn’t rush in heavy-handed either,” Gray said just as gently. “Look after them both. I’ll give you a call later from work. I’m back at seven o’clock tonight. Any problems at all—”

  “I have your number. Concentrate on this.” Trace tapped Gray’s phone, noticing it wasn’t Gray’s usual taste in phones. “Something else you need to talk about?”

  Gray ran his eyes over what came up onscreen, and the look there nearly had Trace hitting something. “What?”

  Gray said nothing and went to slip the phone back in his pocket. Trace took it off him and held a hand up when Gray shifted to take it back.

  Jack and Jan lay facing each other in bed. Normally there’d be nothing unusual about that, but Jack’s face was battered and bruised, his lip split as a hand pulled his head back. Tears streaked Jan’s cheeks in the dull light of the room, and across the screen shot....

  Don’t... fuck Jan for me, Jack.

  “Fuck.” That had been sent today, but there were two more files. One he’d seen. But the one that came in yesterday?

  So that was Vince, all body-builder, with a neat I look like Jan haircut. He stood at the top of Jack’s stairs, with a thinner man who wore a cheap gold watch. Henry? Jack was there too. The thinner man had his arms out wide, as if he’d just taken a step back and given up trying to hold Jack back. Jack was caught looking down the stairs, but the angle of his body was all wrong. His foot had slipped off the first step and he was trying to reach out and stop the fall. Vince’s shoulder-shove called how he’d never find it.

  “Jack said he’d thought he’d heard Jan cry out and he’d fought through the drugs to try and get to him. He thought he’d lost his footing there,” said Gray quietly.

  “But to control the aggression....”

  Humpty... dumpty... wrote itself across the photo. Followed by—her indoors didn’t like him that much, but did he fall or was he... pushed.

  “How does he know this is Martin’s sick phrase?” He looked up at Gray, then eased off seeing him rub at his eyes. Elena Fortello had been caught in the back of the picture too. “I know you’re going there already with this.” Trace handed him the phone back. “You just find this Kes and have all the fucking fun you want with him, okay.”

  Gray pulled out his Mercedes keys. “Just watch Jack and Jan for me, please. Make damn sure they stay here.”

  “Always.” Trace waited for him to head on out and over to his S-class coupe. The pull away was hard on the gravel, leaving pebbled crunching beneath tyre. Trace took the last bit of his coffee, then glanced back at the phone over in the lounge. After resting his mug on the mail table, he went on through and picked up the phone. The leather chair took the weight off his feet for a moment as he rubbed at his head and briefly closed his eyes.

  A number found a way into the phone, then Trace waited for the call to be picked up on the other end.

  “Hello.”

  “Hey, love.”

  Quiet came from Micah’s end, then—“Hey back...” The words were long, slow, drawn out on a sigh that said missed you badly, Sir.

  Trace eased back into the chair. “You sound damn good.”

  “You don’t. Need to talk?”

  “Yeah. More than....” Trace gave a hard sigh. “I need to ground Jack and Jan quickly, and I have a few ideas. I’m just not sure how well they’re going to go dow—”

  Voices came from back in the reception hall and Trace covered the phone, listening. The sound of retching turned Trace’s stomach, and the phone found its home with barely time enough to apologise to Micah. He’d left Jack and Jan alone for ten minutes... just ten minutes.

  Trace made it into the hall in time to see Gabe standing there shaking his head. Over by the door, Dare stood by Jan, although his attention was focused on Jack as Jack tried to bypass him and get to Jan.

  “Easy... easy.” Dare rubbed at Jan’s back. A pile of watery yellow vomit graced the marble floor, and, wiping at his mouth, Jan stood, leaning over it with one hand on the door. He’d been vomiting most of last night, too; stomach lining was all that was left and no doubt coming with the bitter aftertaste of what he’d taken.

  “He...” Jack shrugged Dare’s grip off his arm. “Jan.... You’re too bloody sick for work. Just listen to me, soft lad, please. Stay here. Get back to bed.”

  “Work. Just need work.” Jan rubbed hard at his forehead, looking as though he’d slept his way through getting dressed: jeans not zipped up, shirt pulled out one side, tie knotted and lost somewhere in his jacket sleeve. Trace went over, and giving Dare a frown, he took over rubbing at Jan’s back.

  “You’re not fit to go to work.”

&n
bsp; “Trace. I’m okay. I need... out. Need to... to breathe.” From the strained breathing, Jan seemed to be struggling doing just that as he briefly looked at Jack.

  “Not a good idea at all,” said Trace, aware of Gabe slipping Jan’s car keys from his pocket into his own. “This flu—”

  Jack tried to get past Dare and groaning anger when he couldn’t. “Fucking flu, you—”

  Jan glanced back, dampness to his brow and carrying a paleness to his face that no suit could add class to. His gaze stayed on Jack for a moment, searching, fearing Jack, maybe fearing Jack’s reaction that he knew, then he grabbed at the doorknob and tugged the door open, forcing Gabe and Trace to take a step back.

  Dare didn’t manage to catch Jack as he shrugged past this time. He could no doubt see that Jack was getting riled too, and wanted to keep them apart.

  Outside, Jack eased Jan to a stop by the fountain and Jan instantly raised his hands, backing away a few paces as soon as Jack came in again.

  “Don’t, Jack. Please. We’re okay, we’re fine, just... leave me alone, okay?”

  “Jan, I need you to stay here—”

  “Why?” He shrugged. “You got a knife somewhere on you for me, martial arts guy?” Shivering, Jan had tears in his eyes. “You going to find a way to find my kink? Like with Logan?”

  Jack went to say something, then all of his fire fell. “No.... Soft lad. Not you. You.... I’d never hurt you.”

  “How would you know? You didn’t know about Logan until you woke up yesterday. So how would you know?”

  “Hey.” Dare went over and gently pulled Jan away. “Come on. Jack’s right; you’re too sick to work,” he said. “That’s all Jack’s saying. He’s worried about you.”

  “I... I’m okay. We’re both okay, and Jack... sorry, okay? Just....” Jan tugged out of the grip, stumbled a few steps, and went over to his Merc. As he sorted around in his pockets for his keys, Jack pulled out his mobile.

  “Ray, could you get someone to drive Jan into—”

  “Jack, stop. Just stop,” said Jan, holding up a hand. “This is really... you’re... you just need to back off now.”