Don't... (31 page)

“Secret units in a London hot spot, eh? Didn’t see that one, kid. Well bloody played.”

With orders to share the contents out between the guys, Steve left me alone. Any other time I’d have kept the champagne the old man had sent over and celebrated with Jan, with Gray. But what now?

Feeling the pull in my back, I palmed at my eyes as I sat at my desk. I didn’t know what the fuck had gotten in to Jan. Christ, it hurt to think. Why the hell had he switched off those cameras? What happened last night, I could let it go knowing it was the drink, knowing it wasn’t him. But switching the cameras off, it stank of pre-planning. I knew I’d hurt him, but not enough for him to want to pay me back, and for him to have to be drunk to attempt it.

I finished work around six. With Jan not being at home tonight, I was officially dismissed. How I spent my time was for me to decide. And for now, I needed home: my bed, my shower, my identity.

I was ready for bed around nineish. I didn’t open the garage on Sundays; the guys needed at least one day off to recover, so I stayed under my own covers until well after eleven the next day. A long, hot soak helped ease the ache in my back, and had me half-ready to face the day. I should have applied some cream to my back, but reaching to the bloody thing was nigh-on impossible. So I chose to dump the cream in the bin, dress in loose fitting jogging pants and nothing else, just to give the wound some air to heal.

It wasn’t until after I stood there looking down at the Polaroid of Gray that I realised I’d straightened it, inched around so that it ran in perfect alignment with my desk. I sighed, this time unable to pick up and let it fall casually on my desk. It was a coping strategy: leave one thing out of place for as long as possible. Today I needed order; I needed normality and control. With a snort, I headed downstairs. I had a dining room that I kept empty for training, and I ran a few Katas, modified to fit into the small space.

I barely caught the sound of the letterbox as it thudded back into place. Annoyed that my concentration had been broken, I headed for the front door. The brown A4-sized manila envelope was lying squarely on the welcome mat. I yanked at the door and stepped outside to look down the line of semi-detached houses to my left, then to the right. Apart from a car passing by me, the street as far as I could see stood empty. I closed the door behind me and picked up the envelope.

Don’t....

The single word was written in red marker on the front. Turning it over, there was more.

...open this, Jack.

I gave a long, drawn out sigh, hating how shaky it sounded, then I rubbed at my eyes. Didn’t matter how hard I closed them that word was still there in big red fucking letters.

A growl, I pulled out the contents.

Don’t....

The red ink was printed at the top of a picture that showed a pair of scissors slicing through some paper.

...
yourself, Jack.

I groaned and screwed the paper up. Don’t cut yourself. I already had: one big, ugly sonofabitch that still stung my back. Carrying the rubbish through to the kitchen, I binned it. With the childishness of it, it had to be Keal and his goons. Part of me knew I should have passed it on to Rachel, Gray’s secretary, but, let’s face it, it was fucking childish, and even if Keal and his lot had found out my address, it wasn’t exactly a priority at the moment. I didn’t need this shit on top of everything else.

The rest of the afternoon was spent getting my own home straight; catching up on the bills, mowing the lawn. By the time I heard my phone notify me I had a text message, I found a thousand and one other things to do before picking it up.

I have two dinner guests tonight due at eight. I’ll be back around about seven.

No name, no how are you, no sorry about the other night. I slipped the phone in my trackie pocket wondering just who the fuck these other guests were. Barely able to disguise a growl, I packed the mower away knowing I had shopping to do for three tonight.

Great. Just fucking peachy.

I arrived at Jan’s around six, the supplies for dinner sounding more grand than they actually were: entrees of stuffed capsicums (rice, garlic, chick peas, tomatoes, parsley, and thick Greek yogurt to serve), for the main course, and only taking fifty minutes, baked lemon chicken in mushroom sauce, and for a sweet (shop bought again), chocolate choux buns, spiced up with some melted chocolate and chopped nuts. Presuming Jan would prefer his more formal dining lounge, I set the dining wear out for three, then started on the preparations for the entrees and main. The sweet would be finished later.

Everything was ready for quarter to seven, which left me enough time to wash and de-robe. Although it was in the contract I was allowed to dress whenever Jan had company, because they weren’t due for an hour, I’d have to present myself as usual.

Just a few seconds off seven, I was by the door, head bowed, and knelt with the collar in my lap. Footsteps crunched gravel outside, and I missed the sound of multiple voices until the door opened wide. And then everything fell deathly silent.

A sigh escaped someone out of the two people standing by Jan, I don’t know who it belonged to; in all honesty, I was looking up at Jan with every ounce of patience fading fast beneath a black rage I hadn’t felt for such a long time.

“Oh, Jan, you said he was hot, but....” The woman, no, not woman, a cross-gender and certainly looking pretty enough to be a woman and dressed in a tight satin dress, clasped hands over her mouth and squealed delight, giving every woman a bad name. “Oh, isn’t he
to die
for.”

The one next to “pretty woman” was big, butch, and for a brief moment I thought I recognised him. He wasn’t smiling. Eyes had widened a touch, and I saw how uncomfortable he looked. I know how he fucking felt. Jan had my sole attention as I got to my feet.

“Jack....” Jan’s eyes darted between me and the door. Did he think I’d bolt—embarrass myself further by running ass-naked down the street? “I’m—”

“Your coat, sir,” I said coldly, and had it off his shoulders before he could protest. I then took his hand and handed him the collar. “Lest I pay the price for another violation. Once with Gray is enough for me.”

However uncomfortable he’d been, it was buried quickly, and he gave me a cooled look before slipping the collar around my neck and fastening it.

I could dress, I had every right to, but that meant leaving Jan alone with these pair, and I knew the bear from somewhere. I scratched at the back of my neck, hiding two taps to my skull that would signal to Mike and his team I needed two ID checks doing. “Dinner will be ready in forty-five minutes. Drinks, gentlemen?”

Pretty woman, wearing the red silk dress and make-up on to befit an actress, she looked seriously offended and snaked her arm around Butch, her eyelids batting as if the fanning action alone would waft her protector in my direction. Usually I’d never insult any man for exploring whatever sexuality he needed to express, but, fuck, Jan had just gone and crossed another serious fucked-up line, and I didn’t have the patience to humour when I was there, ass-naked, cock cage on display, and tagged with a sodding collar that was meant to symbolize trust, respect, and compassion.

“Coffee,” said Jan stiffly, eyeing me with a look I’d... what? Have knocked off any other man’s face?

Hiding my frown, I went on through to the kitchen and resisted every temptation in the world to start slamming a few cupboards as I started on the coffee.
Real, mature, Jack. Real mature.

Luckily they stayed in the living room. I only had the humiliation of serving coffee before I was back in the kitchen starting the entrees and main meal.

“They were waiting outside.” Jan stood over by the breakfast bar, watching me. I added garlic to the mix for the entrees and heard it sizzle.

“Fucking peachy,
sir
.”

I felt his breath on the back of my neck, then the feel of his suit jacket touching my side as Jan came in close. I think the phone went in the distance, but I was, Jan was—

“Jack, I didn’t,” The briefest rest of his head on my shoulder, then a gentle kiss on my neck had me downing tools and lowering my head to give him more access. He still felt so fucking good. “There was no way to warn you.”

I closed my eyes, just briefly, but then as he brushed his fingers down my back, I jerked away hissing a “fuck.” He’d caught the whip mark.

“Huh?” said Jan, and I looked to see him back off. “Don’t—don’t make me feel any fucking worse, Jack.” There were tears in his eyes. “You couldn’t make me feel any fucking worse.”

“Hey, we’re starving in here,” the woman said as she came flowing through in her silk dress. Jan wiped at his eyes, but if she noticed, she didn’t comment, just busied herself with another coffee.

“You heard my guest, Jack.” Jan brushed by her and headed out, the pretty woman smiling over at me, offering some sort of shared code I didn’t want to return, ever, before she followed Jan.

Jan’s touch had caught a sore spot, nothing more. I’d liked his handling, but he’d taken my reaction completely out of context and no doubt gone headlong into
Jack doesn’t want me to fucking touch.

Any other time I’d have gone and put him straight; maybe I should have, but to be honest, I was far from in the right frame of mind to talk to anyone tonight. I role-played when training a Dom, I could be anything he wanted, but never at the risk of compromising dignity when it came to strangers. I had a business to think about, employees, family. What I did in my private time was no-one’s business but mine, Gray’s, and my trainee Dom’s.

And all of that had flown out the fucking window tonight.

Everyone took their place in the dining lounge and I served the entrees, leaving them in there while cooking the main course. I don’t think I’d wished a meal to be over so quickly before. I took the chatter to indicate they’d finished their entrees, so collected up their side plates and put them in the dishwasher. The main came next, and I served it in record time, moving around each guest, ignoring the silence and pretty woman’s long glance at my ass as I served Jan.

Pretty woman leaned over and whispered something in Jan’s ear only to have Jan glance at me and give a little smile.

“When you’ve finished serving, stay,” Jan said over to me. “I may have need of you.”

Spark plugs. Spark plugs connect up to the....
I needed to put as much distance between me, Jan, and his guests as possible. Where the fuck did he know them from anyway? Butch bothered me, there was something—I knew him. I just couldn’t remember where from. Work? A client. Shit—one of Strachan’s guys? He refused to look at me, and at least I was grateful for that.

Hands in front of my body, at least offering some cover, I dropped my head and ground a few years’ of teeth away.

“Jess, how long have you been with Brian here, then?” I could see through my fringe that Jan was talking to pretty woman. Was that her name? Jess. Either way she put a delicate hand to her throat, hid swallowing her food, then offered a player’s laugh. “Oh, not too long. A week or so. He keeps me honest, and busy. Why?”

“Just curious.” Jan looked over at me, then leaned close and whispered something to Jess. Jess laughed, head thrown back, long hair falling off her slender shoulders, and she patted Jan’s hand.

“You’re wicked.”

“Care to share?” said Brian, seeming more interested in attacking his chicken and getting out of here.

“Oh, nothing, babe,” said Jess. “Well, maybe something. Jan was wondering what colour would suit our naked maitre d’ here.”

What the fuh? I scowled, unable not to, as Jess and Jan barely suppressed their chuckles. Brian said nothing, just flexed his jaw a little. Jan gave Jess most of his attention, but I caught his glance over as I carried on ignoring the conversation as best as possible.

I knew it was Jan sitting there, but like fuck did I recognise him.

“Feels good,” said Brian.

“What’s that?” said Jan, tearing his gaze away from Jess. Sat there at the dining table with them, Brian carried on eating, scooping pile after pile of food onto his fork. If he knew me, he didn’t show it, which is just as bloody well considering conversation focused on Jan’s fantasy over me wearing a fucking dress.

“Satin,” said Brian, pausing to wipe his mouth on a napkin and throw a sultry look over to Jess. “Slipping it over Jess’s ass, feeling it on her thighs, rubbing the material between your fingers. Yeah.”

Jess dabbed at the corners of her mouth, and I could almost feel Brian’s hard-on from here.

“Looks damn good too,” he said.

“White satin,” said Jess in a low voice. “I bet white satin would look good on Jan’s sub, don’t you think, Bri?”

Brian looked over, shrugged, then returned to finishing his dinner.

“Don’t you think, Jan?”

Jan made his look deliberately long and deep in my direction. “I prefer red.” Which just happened to be what Jess was wearing well against her body, and she made a point of twisting a slip of the hem between her fingers.