“I have a plane to catch,” Adam muttered as an excuse for not lingering.
“Do you need a ride to the airport?”
“I have an Uber coming.” But now that he wasn’t moving, Adam couldn’t seem to get going again.
Even more so than at any other time, Adam looked defeated. Shoulders slumped, hands listless, eyes bloodshot and shadowed, and he wouldn’t meet Jack’s gaze. The bold, confident man Jack had come to know, to like, had retreated.
It hurt to see Adam’s brightness dulled, to know it was Jack’s fault for not working faster. Two had fucked with Adam’s head, much as he’d done to Ethan in their childhood—and over the past several weeks. Ethan hadn’t spoken directly about it, but Jack could guess at some of what he’d been dealing with behind Jack’s back. As much a victim as Adam, Ethan couldn’t be blamed for Two’s actions and Jack felt sick when he remembered how angry he’d been with his lover. He needed to make up for that, and he needed to make sure Adam was okay, too.
“Adam,” Jack started, his throat tight with guilt and sadness.
“Don’t,” Adam said quickly. “It’s not your fault.”
Before Jack could get a protest out, Adam shoved his hands in his pockets, focused on a weeping angel bowed over a grave beside them and continued.
“I should have seen it, and I didn’t. It’s all there now, plain as fucking day and yet, I was blind to it all. The interest, the eagerness to be helpful . . . the manipulation. I was too obsessed—” He cut the words off with a sharp shake of his head. “Too focused on my own selfish wants to see that the devil was right beside me, whispering in my ear the entire time. That’s why I said no.”
The sudden non-sequitur threw Jack. “What? You said no to what?”
Finally, Adam looked at him, eyebrows raised, a hint of his old, wry self in the expression. “Isn’t that why you followed me? To try to talk me into taking the job?”
“What job?”
“The job your boss offered me after subjecting me to two days of debriefs and counselling,” Adam spat. “I might be useless at spotting psychopaths when they’re right in front of me, but I’m not stupid, Nishant. Ms. McIntosh wasn’t making sure I was okay, or that I wasn’t going to spill precious government secrets. She was fucking interviewing me for a job with your . . . your agency or whatever the hell you call it.”
“ISO,” Jack muttered, reeling. McIntosh had offered Adam a job?
Adam rolled his eyes and found strength in anger or frustration to keep walking. “I don’t know exactly what department you two work for, but I know it isn’t ISO. Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. I just want to forget about it and everything that happened, and you. Don’t . . . don’t try get to in touch with me. Please.”
Stung, Jack watched Adam stalk away. He’d known right from the start there was no chance at a real friendship with Adam, and yet it cut deep to hear it spoken so plainly.
Jack would honour Adam’s request, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t do whatever he could to make sure the man wasn’t hurt further. Which made him wonder about the mysterious job offer. Jack turned and searched for McIntosh in the crowd and found her chatting with Superintendent Julia Dumay. Neither woman looked angry or upset with the other. In fact, they appeared downright chummy. Good relations with domestic law enforcement was vital to the Office’s operations, so undoubtedly McIntosh was working to smooth things over with the superintendent. Yet Jack had to wonder if that was all it was. Likewise, the Office already had a contingent of mental health professionals on hand, so why was McIntosh after another psychiatrist?
Or had she been after Adam’s profiling skills?
Leaving McIntosh to her politicking, Jack trailed Adam out of the cemetery. He’d hoped for a more positive farewell with the man but making sure he was safe, even from a distance, seemed to be all Jack would be allowed to do.
Moments after Adam got into the back of a silver Commodore, Victoria eased into the space the other car vacated and Jack carefully slid into the passenger seat.
“We’re following that car?” Ethan asked even as he palmed the steering wheel into a turn after the Uber.
“Please. Just have to make sure he’s okay.”
Ethan’s hand landed briefly on Jack’s thigh, then it was back on the gearstick as they trailed Adam’s ride to the airport. They watched from the car as Adam walked into the domestic terminal.
“Do you think he’ll be all right?” Ethan asked softly.
“I hope so. He didn’t deserve anything that happened to him.”
“No one does.”
The uneasy memories of how Jack had blamed Ethan for Two’s actions surfaced again as he lost sight of Adam. God. He would spend the rest of his life making sure Ethan knew how sorry he was. Which he would start on right now.
“Let’s go. It’ll be sunset by the time we get there.” Jack smiled at Ethan. “It’ll be perfect.”
Jack was right and by the time they’d reached Middle Head, the sun was going down behind the city, throwing gold and silver rays into the burnt-orange sky. Over the water, clouds reflected hues of purple and pink, giving the ruins of the fortifications a soft sheen of colour as they walked to the very end of the point. Ethan carried a white urn, its edges trimmed with burnished copper. Jack carried another one, white with black trim. He stopped a couple of meters back from the edge, letting Ethan move ahead alone.
In his black on black clothes, his lover cut a stark shape against the blue water and brilliant sky, his head bowed over the ashes of the woman he called Nine. His sister in all but blood.
The Office had offered burial for Nine, but Ethan had refused. Partly because a body meant evidence, but mostly, Jack suspected, because Ethan needed this exact moment. His grief and his guilt needed to set his sister free.
After a long, silent communion with the dead, Ethan gently removed the lid off the urn and tenderly tipped it up. An evening breeze swirled in and caught the falling ashes. The fine grey cloud drifted out over the water of the bay, rising and falling, almost in time with the waves of the ocean, or with the beat of a heart. Then, in an instant, it was gone, scattered by a sudden gust.
Ethan closed the urn and cradled it in his arms. Jack ached for him. He wasn’t sure he knew exactly how Ethan felt about Nine, or Two, or any of his ‘associates,’ but emotions were never clear cut. Nothing was ever pure hate or love, guilt didn’t always come from doing the wrong thing, and grief was a pain unique to everyone, understandable, but ultimately fathomless to others. All Jack prayed for was that Ethan got the time he needed, and that Jack could be there for him.
Wordlessly, Ethan held out his hand and Jack went to him, ready to exchange urns. Instead, Ethan wrapped his arm around Jack’s neck and pulled him close. Slipping both urns out from between them, Jack returned the one-armed embrace as tight as he could. Ethan shivered, whether from sorrow, or the cool evening breeze, Jack wasn’t sure, but he chose to believe it was because Ethan felt his support and devotion—and love.
“Whatever you need,” Jack whispered.
Ethan shook and his hand pressed tighter to Jack’s back, then he pulled away. Silently, he gave Jack the empty urn and took the full one. About to step away again, Jack was stopped by Ethan’s hand on his arm.
“Stay with me.”
“Of course.” Jack moved behind him, one arm over Ethan’s shoulder, hand covering his heart, as if he could protect it from the world.
Leaning back against him, Ethan opened the second urn and, as another breeze eddied by, turned it over. Two’s ashes rushed away on the wind, scattering and vanishing almost immediately.
Ethan watched them go, his heart rate speeding up even as his body sagged. “I shouldn’t . . . Not after everything he did.”
“It’s okay,” Jack said firmly. “You don’t need to excuse your feelings.”
After a moment, Ethan held out Two’s empty urn and let it drop. The ceramic shattered as it hit rocks far below them. He took Nine’s urn back
and consigned it to the same fate.
Jack wrapped both arms around Ethan and held him while he trembled.
All the colour had bled out of the sky and water, leaving the world dark grey and silver, by the time Ethan stilled. It was the same predatory mien that had once scared Jack, but he knew it for what it was now—Ethan battling for control over potentially crippling emotions, be it anger, doubt, grief, or even confusion. Jack held on until Ethan won through, slowly relaxing against him.
“What do we do now, Jack?” he asked a while later.
“Anything you want.”
Ethan turned around in Jack’s arms, studied him for a moment, then removed his sunglasses. His eyes were a little red and shiny, but his smile was soft and warm as he wound his arms around Jack’s neck.
“Anything?” There was a teasing hint to Ethan’s tone.
Jack tried to keep a straight face, but it was hard when Ethan smiled at him like that. The exploding grenade under his ribs almost went unnoticed amongst the heat and weight of Ethan pressing against him. When Ethan slipped the chin strap for his slouch hat down and tipped it off Jack’s head so it hung down his back, he lost the fight and grinned. He knew what was coming, or hoped he did, and there was no fear, no doubt, just a building anticipation that was heady and sweet and little nerve wracking.
“Hmm, but there is so much I want . . .” Ethan’s sly words trailed off as Jack ran his fingers through Ethan’s hair. His eyes drifted shut and his head tipped back into Jack’s hand.
Perfect.
Here, in the same place Ethan had kissed him, Jack finally let go of all the stupid excuses that had held him back and kissed Ethan.
The lips and tongue that shaped Jack’s name met his. They moved against his and spoke silently of everything Ethan’s mind and heart and soul put into his name. Into every word he used to seduce and enchant and lie. The words he used to tell Jack about his cars and the joy and release of mad speeds. His mouth moved against Jack’s and tasted of the way he would purse his lips or grin like an excited kid, and how he would fight the smile but that rogue corner would always win, quirking upwards. Their mouths opened, tongues touched, and breath was shared. Breath that sounded of Ethan’s gasps when he asked, begged, pleaded for Jack. That sounded like the warm, comforting presence of him next to Jack in the night, content and secure. Sounds that had come to mean Jack wasn’t alone. And by the way Ethan pressed even closer and moaned into Jack’s mouth, he felt the same.
Christ. Jack lost himself in the kiss. He teased Ethan’s tongue with his own, caught his upper lip for one breath, then two, before diving back in to taste more, to explore and touch and devour and offer himself in any way Ethan wanted, needed, demanded.
Ethan was tentative, letting Jack drive the kiss, his spine arching under the pressure, head tilted back, throat exposed, lips pliable and soft. But at the first hint of Jack pulling back, at the barest lightening of the connection, Ethan surged after him. He clamped one hand to the back of Jack’s head and the other closed around the shoulder strap of his Sam Browne Belt where it angled across his chest. Suitably held, Jack was kissed back, hard and thoroughly. Lips, tongue, and teeth opened him up and breath, sounds, and taste left him raw even as he was filled with rushing heat and comforting peace.
Slowly, the passion settled into gentleness, lips sliding soft and sweet over each other, the tips of tongues touching between little, smacking kisses. Ethan’s mouth stretched into a smile against Jack’s.
“What?” Jack asked, loath to lose contact so the word was muffled by Ethan’s lips.
Ethan pressed another lingering kiss to Jack’s mouth and then leaned back far enough to focus on him. He blinked almost sleepily, his smile going from smirk to soft. “You taste like coffee.”
“Sorry.” Jack licked his lips self-consciously, loving the way they still tingled and felt puffy and wet from kissing.
Arms going around Jack’s neck again, Ethan whispered, “Don’t be. I find that suddenly I don’t mind the flavour.”
Jack snorted and tightened his arms around his lover. “Crazy bastard.”
“Half right, Ja—”
The last of the word was lost inside another kiss.
When Jack finally released my mouth, I sighed and rested against him, cheek to cheek, chest to chest. His heart was thumping hard, but that was all right, because it matched my own. Two frantic beats, arrhythmic but somehow perfectly metered.
My lips felt bruised and swollen, tenderised by the first, sharp edges of Jack’s stubble, and my ribs ached a little from the strength of his hold. For a moment, I felt detached from the sensations, that old defensive mindset I’d learned over the years. If it wasn’t my body these things were happening to, then it wasn’t me experiencing it. But I didn’t even have to struggle back to myself this time. All it took was Jack turning his head and pressing his lips to my neck to solidify me in his arms. There was still a faint quiver in my nerves, perhaps from the thrill of the kisses, or perhaps from letting myself be vulnerable. Either way, I thought I could live with it if it meant all the other sensations—the good ones—stayed as well.
“God,” he murmured against my skin. “Why did it take me so long to do that?”
The slowing rate of his heart gave an abrupt kick at his words, and mine followed suit. I had suspected why Jack wouldn’t kiss me but it had taken hearing it from someone else to drive it home. It had hurt to accept Jack didn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about him, but it had galvanised me into action. I’d ceased trying to convince Two to leave the country and started doing what I could to stop his vendetta. Too late I’d realised just what his overall aim had been.
“I had to earn it.” I half hoped Jack wouldn’t hear my whisper.
Jack lurched back like I’d stabbed him. “What the fuck?”
He didn’t let go, though, hands gripping my waist, fingers digging in like grappling hooks. I slid my hands down from around his neck and rested them on his chest, medals under my right hand. His heart rate had kicked up again.
“Ethan, you didn’t have to earn anything. I’m the one who held back. It’s all my fault for shoving my head so far up my own arse I couldn’t see just how I felt about you.”
I shook my head. “I should have told you about Two from the beginning. So much of what happened could have been avoided.”
Jack tried to reel me back in, but I pressed against his chest, keeping this small distance from him. I needed a clear head.
“Yeah,” he conceded when he worked out I wasn’t going to give in. “A lot of stuff wouldn’t have happened if you had, but you never know. It could have been worse. We can’t know what might have been had you made a different decision. Isn’t that what you told me six months ago in Vietnam? You spending time with that sick— with Two might have been the best possible scenario.”
My shoulders shook with an involuntary reaction to recalling those times. Two’s sweet joy at seeing me, his promises to not hurt me . . . his flares of anger when I tried to convince him to leave, to not go after Jack. To let me be free.
With a soft moan, Jack cupped his hands around my face and leaned in to kiss me. Soft, short touches of compassion and sorrow. “Not for you, though. Jesus, I’m so sorry I got angry about that. It wasn’t your fault.”
I clutched at his hands. “It was. I made the choice to not tell you.”
“Sometimes, there isn’t a—”
“There’s always a—”
Jack pressed a finger to my lips. “Sometimes, there isn’t a choice.” He drew his finger over my mouth, up my cheek, under my eye and then into my hair. Beautiful brown eyes going soft, he repeated, “I am so sorry you had to deal with him, as a kid and now. Anything you need, just ask me, okay, baby?”
Despite the twisting guilt and flowing doubts, I had to laugh. “Baby?”
Grimacing, Jack muttered, “I was trying something. Clearly it didn’t work.”
My laughter subsided into a smile as I closed the space bet
ween us. “Don’t sell yourself short. It may have worked more than you thought it did.”
“Yeah?” Jack tried to keep the grin off his face but didn’t entirely succeed.
“Yes.”
And it was true. The weight of Two and Nine still tugged at my shoulders, like a faint gravity patiently waiting to draw me over the cliff with their ashes. The lap of the water below was Nine’s laughter and the sigh of the wind was Two’s whispered lies of comfort. Yet, just knowing Jack was here for me, forgiving and willing to help, quietened my doubts and worries.
“Yes.” I moved closer until we were almost kissing. “You give me so much, Jack. Warmth and comfort and a secure place to be myself. You give me acceptance and understanding. You’ve given me the life I always wanted but never thought I could have.”
Jack closed his eyes and let out a little sigh, then when he seemed in control again, smirked and said, “You forgot orgasms.”
My arms tightened around his neck and I muffled very undignified snorts of laughter in his dress uniform. “And you give me so many chances to laugh.”
“At me?”
I soothed Jack’s faux-wounded frown with kisses to his brow, cheeks and lips. “At us both.”
“That’s okay then.” His frown turned into a naughty grin and his hands slid down to grasp my arse. “So, about those orgasms . . .”
“You might get to kiss me senseless out here, but I draw the line at public nakedness. Take me home, Jack.”
A growling kiss and then Jack was hauling me back through the ruins and to the carpark. I didn’t even care that he got behind the wheel and held his hand out for the keys, or that he rarely used two hands to steer because one seemed permanently fixed to my thigh. He did keep his hands to himself in the garage, until we were in the private lift. We kissed and groped frantically all the way to the penthouse. I was breathless, hard and unable to stop touching him by the time we reached the front door. Jack crowded me against the cool steel as I unlocked it, grinding his cock into my buttocks, nipping at the back of my neck. For a very brief moment I cursed my need for so much security, wanting to already be inside so Jack could make me forget everything. But Jack didn’t grumble at the few extra seconds it took to open the door. His impatient rutting was an entirely different matter, one I was incredibly sympathetic about.
Why the Devil Stalks Death Page 32