Don't... 04 Backlash (29 page)

“You’re not fit
to go to work.”

“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.”

Anger kicked
into Jack’s gaze and Trace whistled over to Gabe. Gabe threw the
keys over, but then went in close to Jack, backing him up a few
paces.

“I’ll drive you
in,” said Trace.

“No.” Jan tried
to take the keys but, with Dare acting as a buffer, lost his breath
halfway through, then—“You... you’re not insured to drive.”

“I’m ex-MC with
an MC Mercedes-Benz.” Trace stared Jan down until he stopped trying
to take the keys. “I’m always insured here.” Or at least he hoped
he was. Didn’t really matter, Jack was already making another call.
As Trace made it around to the driver’s side, he got a nod from
Jack that he’d no doubt set things in motion with the
insurance.

“You back here
for dinner? Maybe take the afternoon off?” Jack didn’t look so
sure, and Gabe whispered in his ear, winning half of Jack’s
attention as Gabe tugged him back towards the manor.

“Five months,
Jack. For five months you never once asked how I was doing.” Jan
got in the car and the window came down. “I’m not you, Jack: I’m
not Gray’s, where everything is taken care of for me. I have to
live in the real world; I have to work to eat. I get sick or hurt,
I don’t get people swarming in to punch my clocking-in card. Nobody
handles my work load for me. Nobody is here for me.”

“What?” Hurt
tore through Jack’s gaze and Gabe’s pull on his arm stopped him
reaching for Jan. But it was how Jan doubled and gripped at his
stomach that had Jack physically taking a step away. He nodded at
Gabe when Gabe again whispered in his ear. Then Jack was back with
Jan. “Look, love the bones off you, body and soul. You know that.
So you come find me, yeah, when you get back. Even if it means you
sticking Ed’s socks up your nose if you can’t stomach me
lately?”

Something
washed through Jan’s eyes, something that made him shiver, bite
back grief, and stay quiet.

“You stay
late,” said Jack, “I’ll still be here. Okay?”

“Maybe,” Jan
said in a muffled voice.

Trace got in
and shifted into gear. He wouldn’t call Gray at this point. He had
enough on his plate. And Jack and Jan... they needed a few hours
apart now. More than. But this whole shit heap over Jan’s drug
abuse... that was a concern, one that had them split and Jan away
from the safety of the manor. The only reason Jan wanted out was to
get a supply of drugs, but he was using Jack in order to make that
leap to work. That wasn’t Jan, and from Jan’s quiet, Jan knew it
too, but he was caught in a vicious cycle. One that needed breaking
before too much damage was done.

After Trace had
dropped Jan at work, the pair of brown-tan work boots and long
legs, covered in blue coveralls that jutted out from underneath the
Rolls Royce in Gray’s garage let him know just where Jack was.
Trace went over and gave his boot a kick.

“Can I have a
word, Jacky boy.”

“Fuck off.
There’s two for you.” Jack pulled himself from under the Rolls and
looked up as his wrench found the tool box.

“Don’t you
screw up the insurance messing with that?” said Trace, leaning
against it as Jack got up. “I thought they had a policy against
jackasses getting underneath without being a Rolls-Royce
mechanic.”

“I’m
certified.” Jack unzipped his coveralls and slipped them off his
shoulders, then hips. “The stickyfoot from the MC psych unit said
so; I can handle plastic knives too.”

Trace grunted a
smile as Jack hung up his coveralls and came back over, tucking his
T-shirt back in his jeans. The contrast between Jack’s look now and
the Jack he’d seen in the photos earlier... bruised face, bleeding
lip—that willingness to fade into the paleness of white sheets—was
startling, and it knocked him off-pace for a moment.

“Just don’t
tell Gray.” Jack winked at him, bringing him back. “The wrench
ain’t plastic.”

Trace winced.
“Secret’s safe and...” Trace tilted his head, reached over, and
tugged up Jack’s T-shirt. “Are those tights you got on there,
boy?”

Jack smacked
his hand away, quickly stuffing his T-shirt back into place. “Man
stockings. And don’t you fucking start.”

Trace held up
his hands. “Not saying a word.”

Jack went to
say something, stopped, then looked at him to make sure. “Because
they keep my bollocks warm on a cold floor, okay.” He even pointed
a finger.

“Sure.” Trace
shifted his head towards the door, back in the direction of the
coffee. “Mouth closed and all that shit if you can make me a
coffee.”

Jack went to
start something again, then walked past, giving a hard glance as he
did.

Trace let a
smile creep up as he pushed away from the Rolls and followed Jack
as he headed out of the garage. “Jan got to work okay.”

“Yeah, I know.”
His head dropped a touch. “I checked with Ray. He’s sorted
surveillance. Good to hear that Dare will see him at lunch. I’ve
made sure security will keep watch at work and bring him home too.”
Jack looked back. “Gabe’s been a bit quiet since he got here.”

“He’s talking
to Ed. Amazing what the butler witnesses, you know.”

Jack gave him
the finger and Trace nodded, needing Jack to be himself a little
more before he broached what he’d come down to ask. “Tights, eh?”
He couldn’t resist another tug on Jack’s T-shirt from the back. The
nylon was visible just above the trouser line, clinging to Jack’s
tanned and slender hips. The rest didn’t take too much imagination,
and Trace gave a soft wolf whistle. “Gray like you to wear a thong
too? And some high heels when the lights go down in that master
bedroom of his?”

Jack grumbled
and half twisted around, smacking at Trace’s hand. “Fuck. Off.” He
tucked the nylon back down, out of sight, and made sure his T-shirt
rested on his hips. In the corridor a bacterial hand-wash dispenser
was fastened discreetly to the wall. Hands were cleaned once,
twice, and Trace gave him space when he reached for the
antibacterial wash a third time.

“You know full
well Gray’s not a thong and stocking guy,” said Jack. “That’s Jan’s
kink.”

“Yeah?” Trace
raised a brow. “That’s... really interesting to know.”

Jack waited for
him, then they made their way up the corridor in through the
stockroom. “I’m poncing about in a skirt for no one.”

A few of Gray’s
staff working on stocking the food storage glanced up, but they
seemed schooled well enough to not comment. Or Jack’s look made
sure they didn’t.

“Not even for
Jan?” Trace asked when they were out of the stock room and heading
for the kitchen.

“Jan’s not in
the mood for me poncing about in a skirt.”

“Not even in
stockings, a thong... tights?”

“What the fuck
is everyone’s obsession with the bloody tights?” But Jack was
nearly laughing.

“Just saying.”
Trace gave Jack a strange look when he held the door open for him.
“If Jan whispered a please, would you wear sexy tights for
him?”

Jack sniffed
and craned his neck around the kitchen.

“Ed’s upstairs
with Gabe.” Trace headed over to the coffee machine. He’d already
put it on and went to hand Jack a coffee. Jack mumbled to himself,
no doubt something on Ed being some bastard or another, and Trace
stopped midway as Jack ran his hands under the water again.

Going over and
putting the coffee next to the sink, Trace peered round at him.
“You never answered my question.”

Jack smiled,
then focused back on his hands. “Kilt. I’d do a kilt for him,” he
said quietly. “No tights, just commando. Maybe some stockings under
that.”

Trace nearly
choked on his coffee. Jack glanced up and down his body, then hid a
smirk as his gaze rested below the waist. “Missing Micah, huh?”

“Too fucking
much,” he said, finishing his coffee. Jack hadn’t touched his yet.
“Speaking of which...” Trace put his cup down. “I want to talk to
you about something.”

“Jan?” Jack
looked away.

Trace watched
him for a moment, seeing the same question there in his eyes, then
he nodded. “I’ve got a few concerns, but I’m really interested in
hearing yours when it comes to grounding Jan here and keeping him
safe.”

Jack glanced at
the kitchen clock. “And you want to talk about these... concerns
whilst Gray’s away, hmm?”

Trace
nodded.

“He’s back at
seven tonight.” Jack seemed uneasy, then sighed. “Okay. Running
with my concerns, I need to make a phone call to a friend.”

Trace flicked a
look at the clock too. “Any particular reason why it’s important
that we know when Gray will be back?”

Jack glanced
away. “Because with all the shit he’s facing, I want to know how
fast and fucking far I can run when he finds out what we’re about
to do.”

Jan came home a
few hours early and crashed for an hour, nearly screwing Jack’s
plans up. When Trace found him sorting through the medicine cabinet
with shaky hands, he pulled Jan away towards the pool room, knowing
Jan needed to be drug free for tonight, even when it came to
headache pills.

As he sat down,
all Jan managed was some far off stare that always ended with a
long look down at his hands. Dare moved close by, his quick glances
over Jan’s body discreet but checking for any puncture marks that
might suggest Jan was finding a source from elsewhere to feed his
habit. He’d done the same at dinner, he’d told Gabe. Gabe kept his
distance, and Jack was right: he had been very quiet since they’d
arrived. Even talking to him about what was to go down tonight had
gotten a nod, but not much more.

After Trace put
a call through to Jack to let him know Jan was awake, Gabe smiled
up. “Any other time using a phone at home, I’d have called you lazy
as fuck. But this place?” He looked around. “Wouldn’t be surprised
if Search and Rescue were huddled down in the storeroom
somewhere.”

“Storerooms,”
said Trace, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “Gray has
five.”

Gabe gave a
salute, then winked at Dare. “As many bars too?”

Jan stood up,
fingers digging into the palms of his hand. “Look, I need a swim.”
The moment he moved for the pool area next door, Dare shifted with
him, blocking his way.

“You’re in no
condition to swim right now, Jan.”

Jan shook him
off, stumbling a few paces in the process. “It’s okay, swim I can
do; I’ve always done. I’m—”

Dare came level
to Jan’s ear. “It’s not safe.”

Jan pulled
back, looking like he’d tell Dare where to stick his safety, but
the weight of Dare’s hand on his shoulder seemed to ground him a
little. “Fine. Fine. Compromise.” Jan rubbed at his head. “Come in
with me?” More quieter now. “Okay?”