by Jack L. Pyke
Gray snarled and started to shift. Jack went with him, stayed so up close and personal that Gray stopped. Something Jack was doing was getting through, but only barely.
“I had A-Branch tear your accounts apart and run a banking footprint of every personal account you’ve had and every account you’ve touched at work.”
Jan seemed to freeze and went to say something. But then he stopped and hid a little more behind Dare.
“Six months back,” said Gray, “checks were done when you came under suspicion then. Mortgage payments came in on time every month from your work. Checks went into your historical banking transactions, and everything tallied up to confirm your wage just about met the payments on your Villa.” Gray shifted again, so did Jack, so did Dare to keep Jan hidden. “But then A-Branch traced a B. L. Davies account that you handled ten years ago. It’s the same Davies who made an initial down payment on your villa, noted as a bonus for services rendered. Go back ten years, you were fucking eighteen years old; you’d barely learned how to shift numbers. And knowing here that I’ve made checks into Davies—why did you get the fucking money, Jan? Who funded you? Why did they fund you?”
“He’s a smart man, mukka. We all do jobs cash-in-hand sometimes and shuffle the details around,” said Jack, and Gray looked at him for a second.
“Of over £200,000 and up? Because that’s a villa, Jack, where £200,000 will just about get you a sparkly new welcome mat. That’s one hell of a cash-in-hand job.”
Jack frowned slightly, but didn’t look back as Gray focused on Jan.
“But that isn’t all of it, is it, Jan?” His voice wavered, just slightly. “Davies was also the financier handling an insurance company’s payout surrounding your father’s death. Over the years, other smaller handouts from that insurance company came to you. Do you want to tell Jack about how those payments went into a second account not in your name, or should I?”
Nothing but silence came from Jan.
“Going back ten years, all the insurance documents were falsified,” said Gray. “The insurance company responsible for those payouts over your father, it never existed. And Mr B. L. Davies himself? He doesn’t exist beyond your fingerprints. That makes all the money in his account, laundered. It makes the down payment on your property, your artwork—the fading remains that you bought Jack’s necklace with—fucking filthier than a paedophile’s look into a schoolyard.”
Gray shifted again, but Jack stayed with him, resting his forehead against Gray’s and stopping him from getting close. “Shush, shush,” whispered Jack. “Don’t, mukka.”
“Where did the funding come from, Jan? Who gave you the money?”
That jolted Jack and Jan followed suit, calling out angered fear.
“Stop it, Gray.” That came from Dare this time.
Nothing was said, and Jan shrugged, going calmer, although it looked very forced to Trace. “Gray...” said Jan, “you put me on this fucking pedestal and keep turning it.” He stepped away from Dare slightly. “I never once said I was fucking perfect.” He snarled and wiped both hands down his face. “Who’s my father, Gray?”
There was no reply and Jan let out a shaky exhale.
“He was a thief who died in prison. But do you think GBH and handling stolen goods was all he did?” He stepped a little closer, more angry now. “He knew his numbers, too, how to shift them around, make money disappear. He... he....”
Jan cried out, his fists clenched, and Dare tensed up at the raw emotions, but kept his focus on Gray. “What do you know about having no money, Gray?” Jan briefly held out his arms, looking around. “With all this, what the hell do you know about having nothing?” He looked at Jack for a moment. “I found my dad’s offshore account when I was seventeen, and for once, one bloody moment—I didn’t do the right thing; I didn’t tell anyone. I kept the money. Rob...”
Now Jack glanced back.
“Rob transferred the money to the Davies account when I was eighteen, and he set up the bogus insurance forms that let me take the money with a clear conscience.” Jan groaned. “I never said I was perfect, Gray; I never—no, no, no!”
Jan covered his head and almost crumpled to the floor as Gray shoved Jack aside and grabbed Jan again. Dare slipped an arm between them, trying to stop Gray a little by almost wrapping an arm around his waist as Gray gripped Jan’s jaw, making sure he stayed pinned against the wall.
“I find out, you fuck.” Jan’s head hit the wall again; as it did and he cried out, Gray dropped his head against Jan’s and ran his hands into his hair. Trace didn’t understand how this tied into the codes. Why had Gray shifted focus?
“I always fucking find out.” Gray seemed to try every which way to calm himself. “You tell me now, is there any other funding that didn’t come from your father. And I mean fucking anything that I should know, Jan?”
Jan shook his head, quickly, just once, then cried out and tried to shove Gray off. “Why were you fucking investigating me again? I didn’t... I didn’t have anything to do with our rape; I keep telling you I didn’t have anything to do with—”
It was there, all that fire in the hall, the anger, the hurt, and Gray pulled Jan in close, a rough arm-hold around his neck, the other around Jan’s waist. “My job,” shouted Gray. “I’m doing my job, Jan, and it’s fucking killing me with how I’m being made to dance naked in different whore-house windows.”
Dare shifted, getting in a little closer. “He needs you to back off, Gray.” And Trace could see that Jan did, his struggles mostly panic at being held still.
“Don’t....” Jan cried out. “Please. Pleasepleaseplease, get off. I’m not Jack. I’m not Jack. I just need, need to breathe—”
“Now, Gray—”
“Don’t fucking get in the way of how I hold him, Darrek, Too many fucking people are getting in the way of how I hold—”
Gabe was there, on the other side of Jan, and he pushed his smaller frame between Jan and Gray, making sure Gray stepped back just a pace. “On your invite, we’re here as friends. As a friend, my sub asked you to calm down. Take a step back, calm, but mostly you look at Jan. And I mean really look.”
Gray’s glance slipped to Jan, to how he struggled to breathe and crumpled to the floor to hide his head in the arms across his knees.
“Not Jack, not Jack,” mumbled Jan. “Just need to breathe, nothing more.”
The slip was there, Trace saw it in how Gray ran a hand through his hair, then both over his face. He crouched down, and neither Gabe or Dare stopped him getting close to Jan again.
Gray ran a hand through Jan’s hair, and screwed his eyes shut. “Don’t play with my head like that, you fuck. And... don’t ever think I expect perfection. But don’t ever fucking doubt just how much you—” Gray dipped his head against Jan’s. “Always be straight with me, Jan. Please. That’s all I ask. I’m not one for people changing and shifting shape either. Scares the life out of me when Jack shifts shape, so you....”
Jan pulled back. “I know how much you love him, and need to keep him safe.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake...” Gray kissed at Jan’s cheek, just the once. “Somewhere along the line, I fell in love with you, you asshole.”
Jan’s look was searching, and Gray wiped at his face, the cold sweat playing there.
“You...” Jan shivered. “You tell someone you fancy them by roughing them up against the wall?”
Jack had steadily backed away a few paces, hands running through hair, and now he seemed to finally breathe life into his voice. “Yeah, scary as fuck... but yeah, soft lad. There’s a slight MO there.”
“Not helping, Jack.” Gray pulled away, and none of the tension eased from Gray’s shoulders. It hadn’t from Jan’s either; he looked ready to bolt or bring out a baseball bat if Gray shifted the wrong way. Gray must have seen it, too, because he stayed close anyway, ready to catch him either way he fell, both looking scared by their reactions.
“I’m sorry,” whispered Gray.
Jan
didn’t say anything, and it took him a moment to move. When he did, he frowned as he took hold of Gray’s hand and balanced it on his. For all of Jan’s addiction and Detox, Gray’s hand shook more as he studied it.
Jan nodded. “Okay. We’re okay.” Tears were held back. “It’s breaking you too. Just... just....” He let out an unsteady breath. “Just please don’t come at me like that again. I’m not Jack... I’m not...” He took a few breaths, deep, enough to leave Gray wiping at Jan’s cheek. “What the fuck’s going to happen to me?” Fear creased Jan’s eyes. “The money? The fraud?”
Jack came over and crouched down next to them. “Of all the people who should have been sent down,” he said, trying to control his anger, “he isn’t one of them, Gray. Please. For once just look the other way.”
Gray’s look back to Jack wasn’t friendly, and Trace understood it in so many ways. “I look the other way, Jack, it will be found by someone else.”
Ah. So someone else had forced this up to the surface, but Trace said nothing. Gray was being pushed into too many snake pits and reacting to the poison. He didn’t need questions now.
“So you’ll what?” said Jack. “Arrest him? After everything he’s been dragged through?”
Gray didn’t stop that light brush against Jan’s cheek. “No. I’ll sort it.”
Trace caught Gray’s look as he glanced over.
“I have someone else I need to sort out now, though.” And Trace didn’t envy whoever the hell it was he needed to “sort” as Gray stood, pulled out his phone, and left.
Chapter 28
Richards
Outside by the south wall of the manor, Gray rested against the rendering and stared down at his phone. He hadn’t made any calls yet, the shaking going on with his hands wouldn’t allow it.
Around him, the quiet chatter of two pheasants as they walked across the green, dragging their tails behind them, did a gentle joust with autumn-like wind and rattle of leaf. He knew the fowl were there, could pinpoint their position and dine on one fine meal tonight if he wanted to, but he couldn’t look away from his phone. Logan’s still sat in his pocket, but he needed his own now.
Gray hadn’t spoken to his father for years. So what was that? His way of getting back? Of picking out information to make sure Gray lost everything close as penance for the shit he’d caused as a young man?
Giving a snarl and closing his eyes, Gray winced as he let the back of his head hit the rendering.
As he did, the phone slipped from his hold and into someone else’s. Gray eased his eyes open to find Jack looking around the grounds, then resting back by him.
“Talk,” he said quietly. “And quickly, mukka.”
Gray snorted a bitter smile. “I was given a bone and told to go fetch,” he mumbled, more to himself. Jack dug his hands in his pockets, but Gray caught the slight smirk as he looked down.
“I could have done him some serious damage, Jack.”
“I was there the last time you held a gun on someone,” said Jack as he came and leaned next to Gray. “You never even allowed for Q&A then. So hurt Jan...?” He was quiet for a minute. “No. You’d hurt for him like you do for me. Big difference, mukka.”
“Tell him that.”
Jack glanced at him as he slipped a packet of cigarettes out and lit one up. Gray looked away. Nerves always showed through in the occasional habit. “He’s smart, Gray. And he’s still here. He’s not packing.”
Gray gave an exhausted chuckle and Jack joined in too, the cigarette conducting them both.
“He’s a ballsy bastard,” said Jack, trying to control himself.
“Scared,” said Gray. “I don’t like seeing him scared.”
They both fell quiet, Jack to his own memories, Gray to how the two pheasants on the green seemed to have stopped and were going in circles looking for something.
“Who threw the bone?”
“Hm?” said Gray looking at Jack. The cigarette was down to the last few long draws of breath as Jack flicked off the heated ash.
“I’ve only seen you get torn like that when shit hits close to home. Who’s the caller?”
Gray turned into Jack and reached into Jack’s jean pocket for the mobile that Jack had stolen from him, hearing a vibration also come from Logan’s.
“Oooh, intimate, mukka,” groaned Jack. Gray raised a brow at his hard-on. Smokes and sex. That need to calm the nerves and get close to someone in the fallout... Jan was right. Jack wasn’t such a tough bastard.
Such a sweet and sexy kid beneath all that roughness... but you know that, don’t you, tough guy. It’s why you keep him close? Vince’s words paused Gray’s touch, keeping him frowning down at Jack’s pocket.
“Where are you now?”
Gray looked at Jack as he slipped his phone back in his own pocket and took out Logan’s. They were very similar and he hoped Jack didn’t pick up the difference. “Never far from here, stunner.”
Jack brushed a hand down Gray’s hip, and Gray winced, pulling back.
“Old bones there?” That smirk was too cocky.
“Damage at work done a few days ago,” said Gray, resisting rubbing at his hip.
“Yeah, I caught you saying that to Trace when he arrived. What did you do?”
“Just work,” said Gray. Now wasn’t the time.
A nod came, a look of worry, then such hard tone to grey eyes. “Then tell me who upset you.”
Jack took a long drawn out inhale of smoke. Gray leaned in and caught the exhale in a kiss, sharing taste and bad habit. He fucking loved it. Jack returned the heat, that need to know everything was okay between them all asked in the act. He’d asked Jan the same way too a few minutes ago. Jan’s taste was there in Jack’s kiss. Gray closed his eyes, needing to know both were okay with him.
“Fy nhad,” he mumbled, lips still so close to Jack’s now as Gray let smoke escape his nose.
“Hm?”
Gray eased back against the wall and thumbed Logan’s phone now. “My father.”
Jack dropped the cigarette and crushed it under boot. “You fuck him over for me when you catch hold of him, yeah?”
Gray’s focus was on the message across Logan’s screen.
Ten hours remaining. A number will be provided, and I expect you to give me a name. Kes.
Casting a look up into the woods past the green, Gray held his hand toward Jack. “Can I borrow your phone, stunner?”
Jack shifted slightly. “What are the odds of you having a low battery?” said Jack, shying back into the world of see no evil, even though he knew it was under his nose. “Do you need privacy?”
Gray shook his head as he typed a specific code so phone records couldn’t be traced, then he thumbed in Ed’s number before sending a message.
Get in touch with fy nhad; give him the name Kes, then ask him what the fuck he thinks he’s doing using Jan. What the fuck he thinks he’s doing by interfering.
Gray got a reply five minutes later, but it wasn’t off Ed.
Jan wasn’t mentioned, Gray. Richards was.
Nhad.
Gray frowned, then stalled. Richards. The anger was there that his father had access to Jack’s phone number and that he’d known Gray had used Jack’s phone in particular. Or had that come from Ed? Too many fucking people were involving themselves in this. But...
Jan wasn’t mentioned. Richards was.
“Jack,” he said softly, “did Jan ever mention meeting your mother away from the warehouse and the hospital?”
Jack wiped at his nose, then dug in his pockets for another smoke. “Not that I know of.” A cough was given and Gray frowned at the smoke. “Why?” asked Jack.
“Nothing in particular.” Gray eased off the wall. “Has your mom ever mentioned a family with his surname over the years?”
“Richards?” Jack thought about it. “Nope. Not that I can remember. My old man’s the best one to ask.”
Gray flicked a look up. “Go ask him for me, yeah?”
Jack
looked at him.
“It’s important.”
“You have my phone.”
He knew he did, but time was fast running out, and if one person had access to Jack’s phone, so could Kes. Gray wouldn’t give Kes the playing space to expose Jack and Jan to seeing those photos and put them back in the torture. Not again. “I’ll tell Ray to fetch you a new one today.” Gray kept hold of Jack’s, and Jack’s worry only fed his own unease. “Take Jan’s too.”
Jack nodded and without saying anything, he headed back into the manor.
In all of the confusion and hurt of last year, had he missed something? Seemed the fraud was important, and last year, one other person who knew about Jan’s fraud had been killed. Rob Kershaw.
Looking down at Jan’s phone, Gray typed in Andrews’ number and followed Jack inside, then into the Oval, where he could dampen messages and also offer lockdown if needed.
“Who the fuck is this?” Sleep filled, Andrews’ voice and the tone suggested he didn’t like being pulled from it, especially considering it was only touching eight o’clock. He didn’t have that politeness Gray usually heard, and a taste of Andrews’ professional side away from work was good to catch.
“Can you talk?”
A hard shush was given, suggesting Andrews wasn’t alone, then the phone manhandled and the call no doubt scrambled at the hello and request for a safe comm line. “Go ahead.”
“Slight change of focus. I need autopsy details and accident report on Robert Kershaw.” Gray gave him Rob’s address and next of kin. “Look for a professional signature mark concerning his death.”
Quiet. “He’s tied to Richards and his workplace.” Andrews would have found that out when he’d helped deal with the dealer yesterday. “Did you get my email this morning?”
Gray hadn’t. He’d been over at A-branch most of the morning.
“639 had been using a sophisticated cloud source; it’s why these codes weren’t found on any of 639’s hard drives; they were stored externally. The cloud storage space itself was built by 639, another reason why its Internet footprint was virtually untraceable. Once Mike traced it and got access, we found the original six-item list of 639, one that had been app-jacked from a source we’re still looking into. But what we found on the list, it’s a list of ours.”