Job Hunt (14 page)

“If you call in the wind, be prepared to reap storm,” she smirked as if he needed reminding. “I did cut you a lot of slack.”

She had. Gareth knew that she could have ordered them to the nearest police station last night to make their statements there and then. Instead Lisa had suggested he take Jack home before most of her team had even arrived. The option was a win for them both, giving Jack a little time to recover and Lisa the chance to familiarize herself with the case before she started asking questions. So he nodded and tried for a grateful smile. “You’re right, of course.”

“P
LANNING
MISSIONS
would be so much easier if I had someone like you on my team.” Rafael rose and stretched before stacking his notes in a careful pile, ready to call it a night. His voice was wistful and he watched Jack as if he was trying to think of ways to spirit him away.

Jack had enjoyed the brief trawl for data. It was different from the work he did every day, and Rafael’s requirements had been very precise. Hacking was sheer fun when he knew exactly what he was after. “Give me a yell if you need a hand,” he offered, ignoring Gareth’s groan from across the conference room. “I’ll be happy to help out if I have the time.” Then he added a smirk. “Provided you take the heat, of course.”

Rafael smirked right back. “You’re on,” he agreed. “Taking heat’s what I do.”

“I’ll wait for your call, then.”

“You do that.”

They swapped mobile numbers, and as Rafael left Jack saw calls for extracurricular activities in his future. He didn’t mind. The sort of information Rafael Gallant needed was easily, and in many cases totally legally, obtained. He had no issues helping out, not when he knew how much of a difference an accurate map could make to the success or failure of a mission.

“You really can’t leave well enough alone, can you?” Gareth asked, resigned, and Jack shrugged.

“He shouldn’t even have to ask. Fucking bureaucrats.”

“You can’t help everyone.”

“I can help those who ask.” Jack cleared history and any traces of his activity from Lisa’s laptop, taking his time and making sure he got every tiny footprint. He didn’t feel the need to offer even more ammunition to a woman who was going to own his ass.

The thought annoyed him, but he pushed it aside. His skills and training made him a valuable commodity. He had accepted that a long time ago. It was his own fault that he’d forgotten that truth in a brief bid for freedom. The sooner he resigned himself to the cage again, the safer it would be for all concerned.

An almighty yawn overtook him, and he stood, trying to shake off the fatigue. “Can I ask a question?” he queried, turning toward Lisa.

“Shoot.”

“The two boys Gareth rescued from the club—how are they?”

Not knowing what had happened to the two had bugged him all day, but he’d kept from snooping. Though his first day at Nancarrow Mining had been busy, he could have found time and opportunity if he’d really put his mind to it. Lisa seemed to realize that too.

“Still in hospital and fully sedated,” she replied softly. “They weren’t as far gone as Ricky, but he’d started to hook them on blow besides the… other damage. Baxter is watching over them, but they’re not expected to talk to anyone until tomorrow at the earliest.”

That explained why Jack had had to put up with Walshaw. He didn’t mind Nell. The woman had a brain and knew how to use it, but Jack had worried about Baxter’s absence. It was unlike the detective to start something and not see it through to the end.

“What’s on your mind?”

The question drew him from his thoughts in surprise, and he rubbed a hand across his face. He really needed to sleep if he started zoning out in the middle of a conversation. A mug of steaming hot coffee slid into his field of vision, and he accepted it with a rueful chuckle.

“Should have bought Kenco shares years ago,” he muttered as he took a sip, grateful that just the three of them were left. “Whatever you do, don’t separate the two boys,” he continued, hoping Lisa realized how seriously he meant his words. “Not even for treatments or baths or stuff. They are each other’s strength.” And comfort and nightmare guard, but he didn’t feel the need to point that out. Better that his mind didn’t go there.

“Gillian Kent from social services is in charge of the boys,” Lisa replied. “I believe you’ve met?”

Jack nodded. “She’s good. Really knows what she’s doing, even though….”

“What?”

“She’s great with the younger children, especially the girls,” Jack answered. “These two boys, though… I’m not sure they’ll respond that easily.”

“Right now they’re drugged and out of it. Let’s wait and see.” Lisa’s voice was comforting and Jack relaxed. The endless week was finally ending. All he wanted now was a chance to sleep.

Jack was grateful for the quiet time while Gareth drove through a city on the cusp of waking. His thoughts moved at a sluggish crawl as if the coffee he had drunk to stay awake was sloshing around his brain instead of his stomach. There was much to ponder, and he needed to get a grip on the details if he was to contribute anything useful to the investigation.

Walshaw was an annoyance, and Jack would have preferred Baxter in his place. Having Gareth beside him helped, as did the fact that Walshaw’s threats were without substance. On the plus side, it had been nice to see Nell again. And Rafael Gallant’s attitude was just plain refreshing.

Jack didn’t realize he’d nodded off until Gareth pulled the Range Rover into his driveway and called Jack’s name to wake him. They looked at each other in the pale gray light, tired and a little unsure, and Jack felt a curl of anticipation in his gut as Scotland Yard, the investigation, and even his annoyance with Walshaw faded into the background.

Their feet crunched on the driveway gravel, the sound echoing dully in the early morning silence. The front door closed with a soft jangle of keys, locking them in and the world out. Jack’s breath washed out in a long sigh, and relief hit him so hard his knees went weak.

“You wanna share, or shall I get the spare bed ready for you?”

Gareth’s voice was muffled as he bent to take his shoes off. Jack waited until he straightened, then he hooked a finger through a loop on Gareth’s belt and pulled him closer until their chests almost touched. “You wanted me to spend the weekend so I could check out your spare bedroom?” he teased, head tilted to one side to appreciate Gareth’s expression. “That’s one hell of a pickup line.”

“Jackass.” Gareth made no move to get away. He watched Jack, brows drawn together in something that looked like concern and maybe a little trepidation. “You need to sleep.”

“So have you started to snore or do you hog the covers?”

“Neither.”

“Then I don’t see the problem.” Jack remembered that a tired Gareth was invariably a cranky one. He’d never seen the man so adorably unsure. And it really wasn’t as if they’d never shared a bed or floor before, even if it had been almost ten years ago. He leaned close to speak in Gareth’s ear. “Let’s go to bed. I promise faithfully that I won’t bite. Or try to jump you.”

C
HAPTER
ELEVEN
S
HUTDOWN

B
ETWEEN
SHOPPERS
,
sightseers, and anyone actually living there, Richmond was a busy place. This was especially noticeable on Saturdays, when traffic wound in an endless snarl from the Thames to the park and from Clapham to Twickenham. Very little of all that activity could be heard in Gareth’s bedroom, and Jack was fine with that. He’d been awake for a while now and felt well rested, but he was far too comfortable to move.

He hadn’t minded at all, when he woke, to find himself draped over his bed partner as if Gareth were an extra pillow. Neither did he see a reason to change his position. His nose was buried in Gareth’s neck, his arm clasped Gareth’s waist, and their legs tangled in ways Jack found pleasantly suggestive. He rested quietly, breathing as softly and evenly as he knew how, and enjoyed the moment.

There was a hint of roughness to Gareth’s jaw, and despite the previous night’s shower, Gareth’s skin held a trace of scent that Jack found irresistible. If asked to define it, he’d call it spicy, even though that didn’t quite do it justice. It was a dark, rich scent, more alluring than cinnamon-and-chili-spiced chocolate, but somehow containing both these flavors, along with a bitter edge and something that reminded him of well-worn leather. Jack preferred clean citrus notes for everyday wear, but his stomach muscles clenched every time he caught a hint of that dark spice. He turned his head just slightly and nuzzled his way deeper into the silver hair, for once content to lie in bed and dream.

He was so lost in quiet bliss that he disregarded the warning signs: the soft slide of a foot along his calf, the tensing of the muscles in Gareth’s abdomen, and the hand that suddenly cupped the back of his head. So when he found himself flipped over and pinned to the bed with Gareth’s face above his own, he could do little more than gape.

“You sure have the patience of a saint,” Gareth huffed. “How long were you going to pretend that you were asleep?”

“I wasn’t pretending,” Jack protested. “Just enjoying myself.”

He stretched, testing Gareth’s hold. It was firm but not really restrictive. He could get away if he needed to. That realization soothed the small spike of panic in his chest and turned it into a well of heat. He let a teasing smile curl the corners of his mouth, and he stretched again, more deliberately this time, brushing skin against skin. “I couldn’t make a move, anyway,” he announced on the heels of Gareth’s soft gasp at the contact. “I promised I wouldn’t jump you.”

“See, I would never promise something as stupid as that,” Gareth rumbled before he leaned in to brush their lips together.

“Good for you,” Jack whispered back and concentrated on tracing Gareth’s lips with the tip of his tongue until Gareth pressed in more firmly.

Their kiss was like the entree to an exquisite meal: sweet, promising, and with just enough fire to whet the appetite. Jack soon wanted more. He buried one hand in Gareth’s hair and slid the other across Gareth’s broad back until he felt the muscles shift under warm skin as Gareth moved. Teeth clashed, and tongues tangled as both grew more serious, and Jack didn’t give a damn when a deep moan escaped his throat. Gareth deserved some credit. He’d managed to turn him on to an almost painful degree in no time flat. With barely more than a kiss.

Jack arched up to bring their bodies firmly together and felt Gareth’s arousal press into his hip. Glad for the assurance that this was a two-way street, he shifted and pushed up, rolling them over, thrilled to hear Gareth growl at the sudden separation of their mouths. His teeth grazed a trail along Gareth’s jaw and down his neck.

“Dammit, Jack!”

Gareth gasped and squirmed but didn’t try to get away from Jack’s ministrations. His hands found skin, slipped to Jack’s ass, and pulled him down. Hard. Heat flared through Jack, and he retaliated by nipping on Gareth’s collarbone before moving his attentions to the hollow of Gareth’s throat. Gareth’s fingers painted trails of fire on his skin, and every time he caught a whiff of that dark, spicy scent, something like an electric shock spiked through him.

He raised his head and went for Gareth’s lips again, adding teeth and fire and clear intent. The kiss turned messy, Gareth’s hand tangled in his hair, and Jack was on the verge of losing his train of thought when Tohoshinki’s “I Think U Know” interrupted their heated exchange.

Jack froze. Then he swore. Then he bent over the side of the bed to fish his phone from his trouser pocket, swearing some more when he came up empty on the first couple of tries. Finally he flipped the phone open and answered.

“Horwood.”

“Jack, are you okay? You sound strange.”

No shit.
If Jack sounded even half as murderous as he felt at the untimely interruption, Baxter would have already dropped dead. “You woke me up.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Jack listened to Baxter’s breathing. “Was there something you wanted?”

“Sorry,” Baxter repeated. “We need your help. Daniel and Nico—the two boys from the club? They’re awake, but they’re just sitting huddled together, not acknowledging anyone. Gillian was hoping that you might be able to….”

“Where are they?” Jack knew that he sounded more like a robot than a human being at that moment. He didn’t care. He squeezed his eyes shut and breathed through his nose, willing the sudden nausea to go take a running jump.

“St. Thomas’s Hospital,” Baxter replied, cautious now and undoubtedly realizing which door to hell he’d just cracked open. “I’ll text you the details and meet you there?”

“Yeah, okay.” The connection cut off, and Jack sat frozen, staring at nothing. “I must have done something truly horrendous in my previous life to deserve
that
!” Jack threw his phone onto the nearest chair before he hunched over and rested his forehead on his knees.

Baxter’s call had done a fine job of ruining the mood.

Jack’s heart still beat up a storm. He had Gareth’s taste on his lips and could feel the traces of fire that his fingers had left on his skin, but deep inside he felt like ice. He remembered fear and recalled fury, and combined, they burned all other thoughts from his mind.

“C’mere.” Gareth’s arm snaked around his shoulders, pulled him up and against a warm chest, and wrapped him in a hug. “Guy’s got crap timing, but we’ll get it sorted.” Gareth’s voice rumbled against Jack’s ear once Jack had relayed Baxter’s message. “Will they need to stick to hospital food, or can we bring cake?”

“Cake?” Jack huffed a confused laugh. “Does it really bother you so little? Baxter’s interruption, I mean.”

“I know what you meant, and it bothers me a lot.” The arms around Jack tightened. “Seeing what it did to you bothers me a lot more. Do you want to talk about any of it?”

“No. Actually, make that hell no!”

“Well, then. Let’s get this done. Cold showers, cake, and then we’ll turn up at St. Thom’s like Father Christmas.”