Don't... 04 Backlash (22 page)

“Clear,” said
Jan, but his thinned voice was lost to whatever was going on away
from Keal’s house. Before his look would have always been forward,
hardly any pause. But now? His look cried Martin, but it came from
the protection of a corner, where his hands still covered his head
as Martin hit out.

“It’ll be
okay,” he said, then reached a hand to the back of Jan’s neck and
tugged him over for a kiss. “Stay here. Stay safe.”

He climbed out,
making sure he slipped his leather gloves on from his pocket.
Before he headed in, Gray gave the grounds a once-over, then locked
the Mercedes door with his spare set of keys.

The For Sale
sign had been taken down. Usually a prime location like this in
London would be gone within weeks of being on the market, but this
place came with history, not only in a culling sense, but also with
Keal’s dealings with the sex trade industry. Nothing ever proven;
his lawyers too well-paid to lose a client to the justice system.
Witnesses always too young and too scared to testify.

Gray made it
over to the BMW parked on the driveway, and the number plate trace
confirmed the sinking feeling the make of car had given him.

Logan was
here.

Gray wiped a
hand over his mouth, looked at how interior lights lit up the
darkness, then gently eased his firearm out of its holster before
going over to the porch door. A twist of handle at the front door
found the home unlocked, and Gray eased in. Visible through the
small gap in the door, a few boxes played Jenga, their contents
littering the floor. Gray slipped in farther, checking behind the
door first, then noticing empty hall walls that lacked all the art
he’d witnessed here seven months ago. Logan must have come over to
wrap up a few loose ends.

The bang of
pipes from the far end of the hall made him level his firearm in
that direction. Someone tapped a very drunk Morse Code into the
silent house, and at the back of the bangs and rattle came heavy
snarls and grunts.

Gray shifted
down the hall, double-checking his route. The lounge door stayed
locked behind him, and the coat stand just opposite ensured it
stayed that way as he jammed it beneath the handle. The access
point for anyone who potentially hid inside was blocked, but a kick
to the bottom of the stand made sure.

The banging
against pipes stopped, almost as if the pipe work had taken a
breath and paused to listen, not expecting that its clattering
should be met with an answer.

“MI5,” he
called, and he didn’t like the quiet, how it listened. “Logan Keal,
can you hear me?”

A muffled cry
called yes along with heavier shuffling, like feet on polished
wood. And to match it, the knocks and rattles on pipe-work started
again.

“
Gray?”

Jack’s call
jolted him, and Gray made it into the dining room, flicking the
light switch on to cast some light into the semi-lit room, but also
to force anyone inside to look away from the glare.

The long dining
table came into his line of sight first, not because of its unique
oval design, but because of the half-naked man bound on top of it
and the used condom and few splatters of dried come on the
wood.

Gray stayed by
the door for a moment. Logan’s clothes made a rubbish tip out of an
otherwise spotless dining room, along with an empty tape gun. It
looked the heavy duty sort used on a warehouse floor to bind
storage boxes closed, yet now it taped both of Logan’s hands wide
in sacrificial place on the mahogany surface of the table. A belt
also covered one, suggesting the tape had come afterwards perhaps.
But the blood trickling from the other hand...? He really needed to
know how that had happened. Logan was caught crying out and
blinking eyes furiously away from the onslaught of light, mouth was
also taped shut, even though his heavy breathing threatened to
dislodge some of the gagging. He was taller than Jack, not as
tanned, but offering that same sort of extra-curricular delights,
with grooves and ridges that years in the nightclub scene had given
him. Sweat should have made the dinner date more tempting, but as
Gray edged closer, the cuts and grazes that slipped down his chest,
over his abs to mix with the polish on the table forced Gray
still.

“Too late for
sorry...” mumbled Jack.

Gray
automatically shifted his firearm into an alcove just right of the
door. The space would have made for a perfect drink’s bar, piping
had even been fed through, probably from a cellar below, to allow
draft beer to be pulled through. And considering just who sat there
bound to one, Gray never once let his firearm drop to his side, not
with what Jack held in one hand. “Drop the knife.”

“Knife?” A tear
slipped free with the confusion. “Don’t... what knife?” The fall of
Jack’s gaze onto the gun came with a jolt, and Jack jerked once on
the tape around his other wrist. He’d tethered himself to one of
the highest remaining pipes, allowing him the peace to sit down,
but keeping one arm high above his head. Coveralls were down to his
waist, but his chest offered that same heavy perspiration and pull
in of deep breath that matched Logan’s. Two long cuts also stained
his abs.

Sex dirtied the
air, or the heavy mix of sweat that tried to outdo the blood and
glint of light on the blade that Jack held.

“Drop the
knife.”

Again Jack
jolted. “I didn’t fucking touch him.” He let his head rest against
the tethered arm. “Christ... but Martin... I... I think Martin...
Martin...” He let out an angered snarl and pulled once on the pipe,
the knife shifting dangerously close to the tape as he brought his
other hand up. “Not me, Gray. Not fucking me—”

“
Drop
the
fucking
knife
or I will shoot.”

Jack instantly
jerked, the knife slipping from his hands as Gray levelled the
firearm on his shoulder. “Wouldn’t....” Confusion shone as he
looked from Gray to the knife, back to Gray. “Christ... never hurt
you, mukka.”

“Kick it
away.”

“Gray—”

“
Away.”

He did, bare
foot catching the handle and sending it skidding closer to Gray.
For a moment Gray didn’t move, just watched Jack’s facial
expression, his body language. He needed to watch that body
language for just a moment longer, one fucking moment longer. He’d
been here before.

Movement came
from down the hall, then—“Jack?”

Gray flinched
as Jan skidded to a stop in the doorway. His gaze went to the gun,
to Gray. He came a little closer, eyes looking wired, alive, then
he backed up a few paces when he saw just who Gray aimed the gun
at. “Shit... shit—”

“
Jan...”
Jack was suddenly pushing to his feet, but as Jan took more steps
back, glanced back over Gray’s shoulder—groaned seeing Logan—Jack
stopped and let out an angry cry. “Not me, Jan,” he said, then
shouted, forcing Jan to jerk around—“
Not fucking me
.”

“What the fuh—”
Jan looked torn between throwing up or bolting. “You touched him...
you fucked.... What the fuck? What the—”

“
Out,”
cried
Jack, and Gray caught all of his hurt. “Get him the fuck out of
here.” Jack was suddenly turning back and pulling at the tape,
trying to break through bone to get free. Fingers dug into skin,
scratching at where the tape held him fast. At least six layers of
tape had been used. First wrapping around the pipes, then Jack’s
wrist, then back and forth until the circulation looked ready to
set Jack loose before he got free.

“Didn’t know.”
Giving a snarl, Jack gave one last yank that nearly pulled the tap
from the wall. “Didn’t feel the fall, Gray. But Jan... please...
don’t let him fucking see this.”

“S’okay,
s’okay,” said Jan, taking a step closer, only Gray made sure he
didn’t reach Jack. Pupils were still dilated. Heavily so, and that
weighted drain on his body hadn’t kicked in yet. Martin might have
tried to leave mid-act, but the signs were there that some internal
battles were still being fought, battles that Gray wouldn’t allow
Jan to be caught between.

“It’s okay,
baby.” Jan let out a laugh, but it was scared, and it saw Jan keep
his distance. “Just... you just need to calm down a little more, is
all. Just calm, just—”

“Fucking more?
What are you doing here, Jan? What the fuck are you doing here?”
Jack pulled at his bonds, in that moment looking like he’d get
loose just to rip Jan apart and use the blood as a water slide for
some Saturday night fun.

But then he
fell deathly still as movement came from back over by the door.
Someone else came into the dining room and—

“No,” mumbled
Jack, life draining out of him. “Fucking no, Gray. You promised me.
You fucking stood behind holding me and promised it was okay to
fall....”

Jan had gone
quiet too and seemed to shove his hands in his back pockets and
look away as Jack cried all the abuse under the sun. Craig came
over carrying a black case.

Craig was still
officially on night shift over at the MC’s psychiatric unit, but
that wasn’t why Halliday had recommended him in particular. Jack
had mentioned his name more than once or twice over the past month
and there seemed such a devilment in Jack’s grin when he did. From
Jack’s time in the psych unit, he’d gotten to know Craig, and Craig
vice-versa from the concern in the older man’s eyes now. Craig had
seen Logan too, but his nursing military history had seen him
witness many an atrocity and still need to stay focused on the
issue at hand, and that need kicked in now. It was a hard reminder
to Gray on why he had always prioritised the MC and who they looked
after.

“Hey, Jack,”
Craig said gently, shifting the case he held from one hand to
another as he went a little closer. “Can you tell me your first
name?”

“You know my
first name, you fucking cunt.”

“Your
last?”

“Come a little
closer and I’ll fucking whisper it.”

“Okay.” Keeping
an eye on Jack, Craig knelt down and pulled a needle free from the
carry case. “Still up for giving me your sort code and account
number to your bank card?” he asked, his smile a little uneasy.
Craig saw echoes of someone else too.

Jack went quiet
and looked at what Craig held as the army psychiatric nurse got to
his feet. “Don’t...” A tear fell. “Don’t put me back in that
shithole, please.” He looked at Gray. “Please, mukka.
Don’t....”

Gray finally
lowered his gun as Craig went in. “You need to calm down, Jack.
Craig—”

“
No. You
fucking stood there holding me with a promise it was okay to
fuck-up. Don’t put me back in there, please,” cried Jack,
then—“
Jan. Please,
baby, please. Not again, don’t stand there and let them do this
again.
”

Jan took a step
backwards and cried out the same instant his name was called.

“You’re not
going anywhere but home,” said Gray as Craig put an arm around
Jack, restraining him as the sedative rested at his arm.

“This is just
going to calm you down to get you there safely, nothing more, bud,”
whispered Craig. “You know how this goes, okay? You have my word
you’ll wake up in your own bed.”

Jack
cried out, barely seeming to hear Craig’s calm tones, and Gray
almost shifted in when Jack shouted his name again. Craig shook his
head, forcing another cry from Jack as—“You fucking bastard, Gray.
You bastard.
He
triggered because of
you
and your
shit
.”

All of Jack’s
hurt was in his direction.

“
Goddamn
it, mukka—your hands are tied with Logan and you’re backing away
from me at every turn—Martin fucking knows it, senses
it—
loves
it.” Jack tried to shake free
but Craig was having none of it.

“Easy,
bud.”

Jack’s free
hand gripped the one at his throat, and he tried to drop down,
using every skill possible to try and break free as a tear
fell.

“You fuck...”
Jack snarled. “It’s about you. It’s about you as my fucking lover,
as my fucking Dom.”

“Jack,” said
Jan, casting a worried glance at the table as Logan’s struggles
stopped in that instant. “Shut it.”

“No,” shouted
Jack, “Martin’s trying to do his fucking job by protecting me.”
Then he suddenly went so calm, giving a look behind at Craig, then
back over at Gray.

“
He came
after Keal, Gray,” he said in a gentle tone. “He wanted to
hurt
Keal
for
his part in the rape.” Jack shrugged. “Martin knows I hurt you,
that you’re still too hurt to handle me and your hands are tied
with this other shit.” He fell into silence. “For fuck’s sake,
Gray,
I
know I hurt you, and you’re
still so fucking far away from me because of it. Please.... I’m
going nowhere, and I’ll spend the rest of my life on hands and
knees asking permission to heal the hurt I’ve caused you, but I
need you to be you; I need to
see
you now.”

Jack looked
back at Craig and gave a slight nod toward the sedative. “You fill
me with that, you make sure you look after them for me, okay? I get
to black this fucked-up shit out. They’re stuck with it, and me.
And I keep fucking up their lives.”

Craig glanced
over, just briefly, then his gentleness was back with Jack. “I’ll
make sure you all get home and into the right hands, all right,
bud?”

Jack nodded
again and there was no protest there at all as Craig eased the
needle into his arm, just such a sad look that eventually dulled in
his eyes as the sedative took effect and Craig took Jack’s
weight.