Job Hunt (12 page)

Gareth’s tone made something in Jack sit up and take notice. His mind seethed with conjecture, but true to form and training he considered it prudent to wait to confirm Gareth’s statement, only turning to Gareth once they’d left the CEO’s office. “Which leak?” he demanded.

Gareth pulled a face. “Financial information is leaking out of the company.”

“Oh,
that
leak.”

“What do you mean,
that
leak?”

Jack held back on his answer a moment longer than necessary, expecting a trap or an attempt on Gareth’s part to get him back for his earlier teasing. But when Gareth’s face showed nothing but intent expectation, he shrugged and sighed. “You don’t
know
we have another one?”

“You’re not joking.”

“No.”

“Can you show me?”

“Sure.”

Gareth turned and stalked down the corridor. He ignored the elevator, opting to take the stairs again and Jack followed, not even a little bit surprised that the start of their weekend would be delayed.

“H
ELP
YOURSELF
.”

Gareth indicated the workstations lining the back wall of his office, and Jack slid into the chair in front of one and keyed the system.

“Login?” he requested, having spent the day in so many induction meetings, they hadn’t had time to set up access protocols to the company network yet.

Gareth came to stand behind him. “You can’t break in?”

“Sure.” Jack slid down in the chair and tipped his head back so he could observe his boss. Gareth upside down was just as breathtaking a sight as Gareth right way up, even in this tense and irritated incarnation. He smiled at the strange easiness of their interaction, at how he wasn’t at all embarrassed to be thinking such things even though Gareth stood right there. “Just didn’t think you’d want me to waste the weekend doing it. Frazer isn’t witless, you know?”

Gareth leaned forward until he could claim Jack’s lips in a soft, upside-down kiss. His hands reached for the keyboard and started typing.

“You’re right, of course.” He straightened while hitting return. “There you go.”

“I hope that wasn’t your idea of preserving network security,” Jack chided while his hands went to work. “Go change your password.”

“You mean to tell me you weren’t distracted?” There was a pout in Gareth’s voice, right alongside the grin. “I swear you had your eyes closed.”

“My ears worked just fine. Go. Change. The password.”

The keyboard keys rattled staccato as Jack connected to the laptop he used at home and found the relevant links and codes. Ten minutes later he’d located his secret stash of data on the far side of the Internet and requested access.

“And now we wait.”

“For?”

“The back door to open.” Jack leaned back in the chair and watched Gareth fidget. Memories of splintered wooden chairs, wrecked by muscles so tense they misjudged their own strength, washed through his mind. Nights full of maps and banter and caffeine. Fingers in his hair, rubbing gently to keep him awake for a little while longer. The crunch of sand underfoot—

Jack hit keys at random. He so wasn’t going there, even if he had to rerun the security protocol on his stash. Lucky for his state of mind, the sequence had completed before he’d interrupted. The back door opened, and he snuck in, quickly locating the library and directories he needed. Green lines of text filled his screen a moment later.

“That’s not very fancy.”

“I don’t need fancy,” Jack replied absently. “I need secure.” He selected a file and copied it before retracing his steps, one keystroke at a time. “Now tell me that’s public domain, and we can all go home,” he said as he opened the map and report he’d copied and made space for Gareth in front of his screen.

Gareth stared at the report, brows drawn together over narrowed eyes as he read. “Hell no!”

Jack smirked. “That’s what I thought.”

“I
SHOULD
have come by bike,” Gareth groused. The A316 was bumper-to-bumper, and the powerful Range Rover barely managed a crawl. Six o’clock had been and gone, and why everyone was still out on the road when they could be firing up the barbecue or eating pizza in front of the television was a mystery to Gareth.

The confirmation of the second leak had thrown an unexpected spanner into his weekend plans. He got to work on an initial threat assessment and instigated lockdown procedures, pleased when Jack turned to locating leaked documents and tracing their paths without question or complaint. Information passed smoothly between them as if they’d never stopped working together. Gareth hadn’t suggested they call it a day until he’d made his report to Julian and had seen Jack set programs in place to run over the weekend. By which time most of the rush hour traffic should have cleared. Instead he was reduced to doing two miles an hour barely two miles from his destination.

“I
really
should have come by bike!”

Jack stretched in the passenger seat, arching his body until Gareth had to avert his gaze. Though not before he noted the teasing crinkles at the corners of Jack’s gray-green eyes. Jack was back to playing his games, and damned if Gareth didn’t enjoy the show. At the very least, it took his mind off the traffic.

“Whatcha got?” Jack asked a moment later, voice soft with idle curiosity.

“Triumph Tiger.”

“Nice.”

“Very. You?” Jack had owned a bike ever since Gareth had known him. There was no doubt in his mind that he owned one now.

“Gixxer.”

“Speed merchant.”

“Yeah, and? A guy’s allowed to have a little fun, right?” The morning’s mischievous mood had returned with a vengeance. Without warning Jack leaned over the center console and buried his face in Gareth’s lap, rubbing his cheek against the rapidly forming bulge.

“Jack!” Gareth tightened his grip on the steering wheel and pressed his back deeper into the seat to stop himself from pushing his hips up. No need to encourage the brat. He was doing a fine job of driving Gareth crazy as it was.

“What?” Jack’s long lashes rose, and his gaze slanted up to look at him in innocent confusion. “Thought I owe you an apology for getting us stuck in… that.” A swish of dark spikes indicated the mass of crawling traffic in front of the Range Rover.

“And that traffic jam is your fault… how?”

“Not the jam. Just the fact we’re in it. I could have told you about the other leak on Monday.”

“Says the man who goes pimp hunting on an empty stomach and with a hangover just because someone’s asking.”

Jack shot upright, a flush burning its way across his face.

Way to go, idiot!
The back of Gareth’s left hand grazed Jack’s hot cheek in a soft apology. “Being conscientious is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I know.” Jack’s voice was soft, the flush slow in fading. “Then, if I’d worked faster we wouldn’t be here.”

“Now you’re slipping,” Gareth said in a mock-sympathetic voice while the traffic around him began to shift. “I was expecting you to sting me for a superfast fiber optic broadband installation or satellite uplinks or some such crap. Are you tired or something?”

“Just hungry” came the reply, and heat was back in Jack’s eyes.

Gareth ignored a few speed limits once he had extricated them from the traffic snarl. He took every back road and rat run he knew and breathed a sigh of relief when he finally pulled the Range Rover into his driveway.

Jack had made a much better job of hiding his impatience, but his arms wrapped around Gareth as soon as the front door closed behind them, and he rested his cheek on Gareth’s shoulder.

“Wanted to do that all day.”

The words came on a soft exhale, barely there, and Gareth curved his palm around Jack’s neck, sliding his fingers up into the silky, dark hair. Their first kiss was but a taste, a gossamer brush of lips but growing in urgency as the tip of Gareth’s tongue grazed Jack’s lower lip, as Jack slid his hands up Gareth’s chest to tug and tease the nipple ring through the fabric of Gareth’s shirt.

Electricity spiked up Gareth’s spine at the touch, and he tightened his other arm around Jack, pulling them flush together in a single hard move.

Of course that’s when his phone started to ring. And Jack’s followed only a few seconds later.

C
HAPTER
TEN
H
ALO
OR
N
OOSE
?

G
ARETH
DUG
for his phone while he moved a step farther toward the middle of the hallway to give Jack room to do the same. He fumbled the buttons, but at least he had his breathing under control when he answered.

“Tyrrell” came the reply. “I know it’s Friday and all, but I need you for statements.”

Gareth sighed, knowing that there was no way he could put her off until Monday. Or even until morning. The very fact that Lisa was still at work—and didn’t bother to observe the common courtesies—made that abundantly clear.

“Where am I meeting you?”

“At the Yard. You’re cleared to drive in.”

“Thanks.” Gareth’s tone was only mildly sarcastic. Parking in Whitehall was notoriously tricky, especially around the Metropolitan Police’s headquarters at New Scotland Yard, and he didn’t fancy having to hunt around for a parking space and spare change on a Friday evening. “I just got home, and traffic was a bitch, so give me a few.”

“Double-time it,” Lisa ordered. “I need your help, and we can order takeaway if it gets late.”

“Lisa, it’s late already,” Gareth pointed out. “Just make sure there’s food.”

“I know what you like. What about Horwood?”

“Anything edible,” he replied, realizing only after the fact that he was smiling and that Lisa would be able to hear it. “He hoofed down the Ten Deadly Sins for breakfast without breaking a sweat. Oh, and he likes hot curries.” He ended the call on Lisa’s appreciative whistle, hoping that she had something tastier than cold pizza or coffee and doughnuts on offer by the time they made it back to Whitehall. When he turned, Jack was just ending his call.

“I’ll be there,” Jack said into his phone, his voice quiet.

The change in Jack was startling. Gone were the boyish enthusiasm, the teasing smiles and heated looks, the crinkles around his green eyes. Jack’s stance had shifted from its earlier loose slouch. His shoulders now formed a tense, tight line, and he hid his thoughts behind his sweep of lashes. Deeper than mere frustration over a ruined Friday evening, the transformation indicated a type of dread that Gareth couldn’t fathom. As far as he knew, Jack had never backed away from anything, especially not a path he’d chosen to walk.

“Statements?”

“Statements,” Jack confirmed. “A break would have been nice. And dinner.” He reached for the duffel bag he had dropped by the door on coming in, and slung it over his shoulder. “Between Baxter’s shit and the leaks at Nancarrow, my brain’s gonna get whiplash,” he said, voice tight. “And that’s before they throw the book at me.” He straightened his shoulders with an effort and found a crooked smile. “Wonder if they’ll let me post bail.”

“What
are
you talking about?”

“Spending the night in a cell, dumbass!” Jack shot back, sounding strangely petulant. “I fucked up—with honors.”

“That’s hardly a jailing offence.”

“No? Just wait ’til you see ’em drooling over the chance to score a few points on the vigilante who usually shows them up for the morons they are. I scared off the perp, lost a major witness, caused a public panic, and forced the deployment of emergency services. If they’re feeling vindictive, they can add GBH and carrying a concealed weapon with intent to the rap sheet. And now that I’m with Nancarrow Mining, I don’t have the option to pretend I’m working.”

“You weren’t in that club by choice,” Gareth interrupted. “Are you telling me that Baxter won’t back you up?”

“The way that one went south, he may be joining me in the clink.”

“That’s bullshit,” Gareth said forcefully. “Lisa wants your help with that case. She said so.”

“I know.” Jack sighed. He sank back against the wall with a soft thud and stayed there as if the plaster was the only thing holding him up. “And I’ll owe her for the rest of forever. Might be easier to serve time.”

“You believe that?”

Jack shrugged, and that small indication of defeat rattled Gareth’s cage like little else had done in a long time. He couldn’t imagine what Jack had seen to lose faith like that.

“C’mere.” Gareth wrapped Jack in a hug, sliding the duffel to the floor and ignoring his reluctance. “We won’t let that happen,” he said while rubbing fingertips across Jack’s neck until he relaxed his tight stance by a fraction.

“Right,” Jack breathed and settled his forehead on Gareth’s shoulder as if he was making a concession.

“Lisa’s not that bad.”

“She’s not bad at all. But she didn’t get to be where she is by pussyfooting around. I read her file. She’s excellent at trading favors.”

“When did you read her file? How did you even
get
her file?”

“Over lunch,” Jack said, failing to answer the second half of the question. “There had to be a reason you called her—as opposed to a dozen other equally likely people in your address book, I mean,” Jack explained. “Marston knew about her too. She implied that I’d be working the case with Dr. Tyrrell.”

“That should tell you something.”

“It tells me I’m being sold, Gareth,” Jack snarled, pushing Gareth away and straightening up. “Bartered, at the very least. And I hate it.”

“It’s not like that!” Gareth had called Lisa because she was the most efficient person he knew for cutting through red tape and bullshit. She was sharp, admittedly, but Lisa was fair, and she fought the good fight, just like Jack.

“Then tell me what it
is
like, because I can’t see it. Is she on a crusade? Do I follow orders? Can I argue, or do I end up in jail if I disagree with her?” Jack’s voice echoed in the hallway, and the hands on his hips were in tight fists.