Don't... (32 page)

“Would you like a feel?”

“Hmmm?” said Jan dreamily.

“The dress.” Jess was up, kneeing Jan’s legs apart and nestling herself between the v of his legs before she’d finished. “Would you like to feel it?” A tug at the sleeve of his jacket, she pulled his hands to her hips. “Like?”

Brian continued eating, and the boring into the back of his head to control his fucking girlfriend didn’t work.

“You think your sub would feel like this in silk?”

“Mmmmm.” Jan’s hands slipped over silk thighs to the well-defined curve of Jess’s ass. “Kind of happy just with this.”

That was the breaker. I went over, and Jess flinched back into me as I went and stood shoulder to almost-shoulder with her. I was a good few inches taller and gave such a sweet smile down into her soft features.

“Dropped your napkin, miss.” I indicated to her chair. “Why don’t you take a seat and I’ll get it for you?”

Maybe she thought I was being playful, or trying to get in on the action, but the smile she gave fell away as soon as I dropped mine. She quickly sat, and I picked up her napkin off the floor. Re-folding it, I placed it across her lap.

“There you go. Now, miss, would you like a coffee before you,”
fuck off
, “leave?”

“Oh....” Her lips trembled as she looked at Brian. Oh, yeah, I was just in the mood for good old Brian. “I thought we were having a sweet?” Jess looked at me. “Jan said your sweets were really something.”

“Here.” Brian threw his napkin on the table and pushed his plate away. “Why don’t I help you clear this up?” He was already reaching for the plates. “I’ve always got room for pudding, I don’t know about you lot.”

Not even looking at Jan, I collected what Brian couldn’t manage and headed back into the kitchen, Brian padding big bear prints behind me.

“I’m real sorry about Jess.” Brian started stacking the dishes after I’d opened the dishwasher, and then I started on my own. He gave a crooked smile and a shrug. “Give her half an inch, and everything.”

“Forget it,” I said, glancing up at the clock. Once this was done, I’d had enough.

“That looks sore.” Brian added a wince as I caught him half-heartedly pointing at my back. “Hurt much?”

“I’ve had worse.” Tonight topping the bill. I shut up the dishwasher and started grating some nuts. Brian seemed to take to nosing in the cake boxes, and I heard him give a happy purr at my selection.

“Chocolate chox buns. You make these?”

They’re in a fucking cake box marked Del’amor pastries
, “No,”
you prat, I didn’t
.

“Oh.” That sounded disappointed. “Is there anything I could do to help?”

Take your fucking girlfriend outta here before I do something really stupid?
“Sure, melt the chocolate if you want.”

Brian set about hunting for a knife, then started to break up the chocolate into pieces. I put some boiling water into a pan, and left Brian to melt the chocolate in a bowl over the hob. Every so often he’d forgo the stirring spoon and dip his finger, all to stand there licking at it like a kid. I tried to bury the amount of germs he was passing around and set out the buns.

“All done,” Brian called over, and I turned to take it off him.

“Shit,” cried Brian. I saw him trip, and the next thing I knew I was hitting the bowl off my hip as chocolate spilled on me. My swearing was lost to the sound of breaking china and Brian’s alarm controlling his skid seeing the chocolate burning my thigh.

He reacted a lot quicker than I did, grabbing a cloth, then running it under cold water. “Christ.” Brian knelt and wiped at the chocolate making a scalding path down my thigh. “I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.”

“’S okay.” It wasn’t; it hurt like fuck, but tears were something I hadn’t spilled for Gray, so I wouldn’t do it for a touch of kindness from this dumb oaf.

Brian laid the towel flat on my thigh, and the relief was instant. A little bit had dropped a little closer to my inner thigh, and Brian gave a frown that said he wasn’t happy the towel couldn’t reach it.

“Brian, it’s oka—”

“I’ve got it, don’t worry.” Brian gave a flick of tongue at the scald and looked up at me with a smirk. “Yeah, like my chocolate sweets, gorgeous.”

Oh
boy,
was I getting fucking slow. Grabbing Brian by the back of his hair, not really giving a fuck he was a good thirty or so pounds heavier than me, I pulled him up to my eye level.

“You just made my day a whole lot sweeter,” I said, making sure our noses touched. “The kind of shit you want to do to Jess,” I knew his type all right, “I don’t get a kick from. What I do get a kick from,” I patted his cheek with my other hand, “your bollocks won’t.”

Give him credit, Brian gave a smile. He was in an awkward position, pulled down to my height, hair gripped tight enough I’d scalp him if he made a wrong move.

“You’re Jack Harrison, a Master’s sub and fourth Dan,” he said quietly. “When we’re finished with you, you’ll be wearing silk and fucked so hard into the floor by the subs, the Doms won’t be able to spit on what’s left of your asshole.”

I narrowed my eyes. So that’s where I knew him from. He was one of Keal’s men. These guys weren’t just into BDSM; they were into splitting the nuts open of any male Dom of ours that didn’t go quietly after being sold on to their highest bidder. And Brian wasn’t his name. What was it? Oh, yeah. Darren. A spotter for Keal. I thought Gray had circumcised this bastard years ago. I almost chuckled, then clicked with why Darren was here with Jan, and what had happened to the last Dom they had tried to sell on.

His throat met my hand, and I pulled him close, enjoying the colour purple on his face. “Personally I don’t mind a little one on one with either of you. But Jan....” My other hand met his bollocks and twisted them viciously. “You strike him off any list you can manage to compile, and you hide, very fucking quickly. And while you’re on it, stop leaving me fucking love cards and—”

“Jack. What the hell’s going on here?” said Jan, and I instantly let Darren go to crumple to the floor as I saw the look of disgust and fear on Jan’s face, not to mention hear it in his voice. Jess automatically scrambled over to Darren and cradled his head as Darren tried to cradle his balls.

“Jack? For fuck’s sake.”

“
He’s bloody nuts
,” shouted Darren, good old dumb Brian back on his face.

“It’s okay, baby,” cooed Jess, her eyes showing the same concern and disgust in Jan’s. Christ, was she in for a shock when she got to know the real Darren.

Jan’s hands were on his head, and he looked exactly the same as he had a few weeks back. “Jack, Christ, you...?” Then he was suddenly frowning and coming over, pulling the towel off my hip and examining the burn. “How’d you get that, Jack?”

“Clumsy bastard tripped,” said Darren, his eyes watering. “He burned himself and just lashed out when I tried to help him. I tried to dampen the fucking burn.”

Jan looked at me, back to Darren, then me again. Softening all the features in his face, by the time he looked down at Darren, his voice had softened too. “Get out.”

Jess went to say something, but Jan shook his head, stopping her. “Get his coat, and yours, then get the fuck out of my house.”

“B-but he’s hurt.”

Jan went and crouched by her. “If he doesn’t get away from Jack, he’s going to be hurt a lot more, and it won’t be Jack he has to worry about,” he said quietly.

The sound of the front door thumping open caught my attention, and a moment later two security guards from the MC were in the kitchen, grabbing Jess and Darren off the floor.

“Get off,” Jess started to cry, but a shake off one security guard had her quiet. His eyes met mine and his thick jaw tensed. “You missed a security call, Mr. Harrison,” he said, and I frowned. “I’ll notify a medic,” he added coolly, but I shook my head. “I’m—”

“Get them out,” said Jan, and with a glance back at me, Jan headed out of the kitchen, ushering Darren and Jess in front of him.

I ran the towel under fresh cold water, needing to make damn certain I got Darren’s slobber off my leg, then bit back a yelp as I put the damp towel back on my thigh. It wasn’t worth a trip to the hospital, but it was going to grate for a few days. I saw to the broken glass first, then headed toward the stairs. In my bedroom I sorted around in my trouser pocket for my mobile.

“Jack,” Jan said softly from over by the door, but I held up a hand to still him as I punched in a few numbers. The phone connected the other end, and a young woman came over the line.

“Mr. Raoul’s.” No business mentioned, but then few people were given this number.

“Can I be connected to Mr. Raoul, please, Rachel?”

A pause. “I’m sorry, Jack. You are black until further notice. No communication.”

“Give him the following code, then tell him I’m available on this number.” I gave her what she needed to know, then hung up.

“Jack—” This time the phone cut off whatever Jan was going to say.

“Report,” said Gray as I answered.

“One of Keal’s, a home breach. Dom by the name of Darren Henderson.” Jan was frowning at me. “He’s also got a new sub, cross gender, not looking as though she knows what she’s got herself into. Goes by the name of Jess. Security is bringing them in.”

“All to target Jan?”

I looked at him. “Yeah. I don’t know how they made contact with—”

“I mentioned Gray’s name at the club the other night. That’s where I met Bri—Darren,” said Jan, sitting on my bed and looking a little pale.

“Did you get that?” I said to Gray, and he confirmed he had.

“Jan needs to understand, Jack. For his own safety he needs to know why contracts are private and just who can be listening.”

“Understood,” I said quietly.

“Any damage?”

Jan’s knuckles were white as he held on to my camp bed.

“Too close to home,” I said in a flat tone.

Again a long silence, then simply, “Not anymore.”

I knew I stood there asking for a side of Gray I never usually opened the door on, one that was best left unchallenged because it scared the hell out of me, but Gray took security seriously, and I needed him to be serious now.

“Thank you,” I said quietly.

“You have my number if there is anything else.”

“Yeah.” I wanted to say something, just keep him on the line, let him know how good it was to hear his voice again and, “Gray—”

“Enough, Jack.”

The line went dead, and I only noticed Jan was looking at me with a slight frown after he’d called my name.

“What the hell’s going on here, Jack?”

Jan caught my arm as I passed. “Jack,” I stood side-on to him and felt his cheek brush my shoulder after he stood. “Please.”

“Jan,” I pulled away with a frown. “I need—” My hip stung and I could see about an inch and a half of blister close to my ass. “I need to get something on this, and then—then I need to paint.”

“Paint?”

I found some ointment in Jan’s cupboard and was halfway rubbing it into my skin when Jan came into the kitchen.

“What do you mean paint?” He took a seat at his breakfast island and pushed away the box of buns sitting there.

“That damn fucking ceiling of yours in the hall.” I finished rubbing the remainder of the cream on my thigh and screwed the lid back on the tube. The burn was looking red and angry, and a little blistering had started. “I’m sick of seeing the cracks in it.”

Jan flicked at the stray crumbs on the unit, and I mumbled under my breath and grabbed a cloth off the sink and went over to nudge his elbows off so I could clean it. Bits really got up my nose. I threw the cakes away, along with the nuts, then gave the units another wipe over.

“Talk to me, Jack, please. I—”

I thought he’d come out and say whatever it was that was bothering him, but he clamped up pretty quickly and headed for the door. “Ceiling,” he said flatly, and he padded on through to the living room where I saw him sort through a cupboard. I went over and he handed me a pair of stepladders, paint, roller, tray and brushes.

“Been meaning to do it for a while,” muttered Jan as I spread a plastic cover on the floor to catch any spills. Jan pulled the coat stand into the kitchen and I set to work with a dry cloth, just wiping down the ceiling and clearing the dust. Not that there was much. A little filler went here and there, and I set the paint in the tray as it dried.

“You need a hand?”

I shook my head and left Jan to wander around his house. It was either paint or walk. Talking wasn’t an option, not yet. There was a strong part of me that didn’t recognise Jan, the rest was just guilty over forcing this change on him. How he’d been with Jess, how he’d played Jess in front of me, I hated the fuck out of him for it, and I knew if I talked, it would end up in one hell of an argument. But then there’d been that moment in the kitchen afterwards, when I hadn’t had to say a word; he’d known—he’d fucking known Darren was talking bullshit. That unquestionable trust was there in his eyes, that unspoken trust that we had in the first few days we’d been together.

Halfway through painting, I rested my head on my arm, the sweat making it hard to hold the roller. It would have been smart to put some clothes on. From head to toe, my body was speckled with tiny flecks of white paint. But at least that calm feeling that I felt with painting had taken a firm hold, and I took my time finishing up. Just touching the edges up with a brush, careful not to scar the paint on the walls.

Inspecting the work, it looked better. I wasn’t Monet, but the cracks were filled, the paint crisp and clean. I breathed deeply, content probably for the first time in weeks. The brushes had four washes each, the rollers five, the tray, three. After wiping stray spots from the wall, I packed away the ladder, picked up the sheet, folded it neatly into a square, and made sure that it found its resting place too. The floor was cleaned, then disinfected, then wiped dry. It could have been done in an hour, but it took two-and a half with me.

“Did you ever take any meds?” I glanced back to see Jan watching me from just inside the lounge. “For the OCD and ODD, I mean?”