Job Hunt (25 page)

Jack understood that he was Daniel and Nico’s lifeline, that they trusted no one, and that his presence reassured them. Still, getting the two to take a shower before going to bed had been hilarious, with both boys vacillating between unexpected teenage awkwardness when using the toilet and shower and their need to keep him close at all times.

Jack had lived on the streets. He’d served in the army. He wasn’t fussed by watching another guy take a piss. What bothered him was that he couldn’t tease the two about it. They just weren’t ready for it yet.

Neither could he hole up in this bedroom forever. He needed to talk to Gareth, so best get this done as quickly as possible.

He loosened the tight grip both boys had on his sleeves, slid down the bed, and was off the mattress before the two were properly awake.

“I need to go to the bathroom,” Jack informed the two bleary-eyed kids in his calmest voice before they had a chance to scramble up and grab hold of him again. “And I really need to talk to Gareth.”

“Why?”

“He’s my boss. He’s expecting me at work tomorrow morning.”

“Tomorrow is Saturday,” Daniel protested, eyes wide and alarmed. “And you said you won’t leave us here alone.”

“Which is why I need to talk to him. Now, can you let me go for a few minutes? I’ll just be on the other side of the door talking to Gareth. Rafael and his men are watching the garden, so nobody will come through the windows.”

Huge frightened eyes followed him as he made his way across the room to check the locks on the window, and the only thing Jack’s memory could think to torture him with in that moment was the morning he had said good-bye to Gareth as he was leaving the base for the very last time.

It had been early, bright and cold, and Gareth had been standing in a beam of sunshine, lit up in gold and silver. Despite the angry words of the night before, he’d been there at the gate, waiting to bid Jack good-bye as Jack had known he would. Gareth had wrapped him up in a bone-crushing hug, and walking away from everything he’d ever wanted had hurt like a bitch.

He’d been scared back then, but that fear had been of his own choosing. He’d not been as terrified as Daniel and Nico were right now, but he understood that fear too, and he knew how to allay it.

“The windows are locked,” he said, hand on the door handle. “Lock the door after me. Don’t open until you hear my voice.”

He stepped out and kept his hand on the door until he heard the lock engage.

“I won’t be long,” he said, comfortingly, before he turned around.

T
HE
LIGHT
on the landing was on and, of course, Gareth waited for him. He leaned against the wall, feet planted and head back, and Jack searched in vain for any sign of tension.

“Hey,” he sighed, and stepped closer.

“Hey yourself. You okay?”

Jack nodded. The warm palm that curled around his neck and pulled him close came as a surprise. For a heartbeat he stood stiff and unmoving, waiting for Gareth’s voice. But there were no questions and no recriminations, and Jack relaxed. He wound his arms around Gareth’s waist and let himself lean.

“Are you okay?”

Jack nodded again, not moving from where his forehead rested against Gareth’s shoulder. He had buried his past so deeply that digging it up left him feeling hollow. Jack didn’t give a shit what other people thought of him. But seeing pity or disgust in Gareth’s face could kill him. So he did the one thing that made sense. He didn’t look.

“And the boys?”

“Scared stupid,” he mumbled. “Nico’s fine, really. Daniel will wake up screaming.”

“You gonna stay here with them?”

Gareth’s voice was carefully neutral, but Jack straightened anyway and stepped out of his hold, noting how bereft and cold he felt without Gareth’s arms around him. He put the width of the hallway between them before he looked up, wondering what to say.

He needed to stay here. He had somehow become the person Nico and Daniel relied on. He had to stay until the two had grown comfortable with…. Then it hit him: the one bit of information he’d heard and filed away and not paid any attention to.

“Your mother,” he said in a hoarse whisper.

Gareth looked like a smug cat, his amber eyes shining gold in the reflected light. “Good to see you’re with the program, Horwood.”

“Oh, fuck you!” Jack’s reply lacked force. He slumped against the wall and closed his eyes. Gareth was beside him in an instant, and Jack didn’t resist the palm that molded to his cheek or the soft touch of lips that brushed over his eyelids, cheekbones, and jaw.

“Of course you’re gonna stay here,” Gareth breathed between kisses. “I asked Frazer to send over a tablet, but he says you’ll need a laptop, and apparently you own half a dozen. So which one do you need, and is there anything else he should pack?”

Jack opened his eyes and stared at Gareth. He could find nothing but concern in the intent gaze. No anger, no frustration. Certainly no pity.

A wave of calm washed over him. The sort of calm he would need to help two scared boys through their nightmares and interrogate them without them noticing.

“Can I have the big Dell, the tablet, and the go bag from my locker?” He reached up to the hand that still touched his face and wrapped his fingers around Gareth’s wrist. The strong pulse beating there was reassuring, as was Gareth’s warmth. Maybe they really had a chance to make this work. “Ask Frazer to set up high-level access protocols for the Dell too. Just to be safe.”

“You’re expecting trouble?”

Jack shook his head once, then shrugged. “If Raf is dirty or one of his men runs his mouth.”

“Or I do, or my mum does… yeah, yeah.”

“You asked.”

“I know.” Gareth pushed away from the wall. His hand slipped from Jack’s cheek. “Your stuff will be here when you wake. Try not to work around the clock, okay?” He turned to leave, but Jack held him back.

“Wait.”

Jack wrapped his arms around Gareth’s neck and leaned close. “Thank you,” he said, a moment before his lips touched Gareth’s.

C
HAPTER
SEVENTEEN
S
ECOND
T
IME
R
IGHT

T
HURSDAY
HAD
rolled around by the time Jack returned to his desk at Nancarrow Mining. He didn’t regret the time spent with Daniel and Nico—the two now had ways to deal with their nightmares and were learning ways to deal with attackers—and he had picked up information that brought him closer to locating the pimp.

Thanks to Gareth’s foresight, Jack had been able to work on both tracing the pimp and his day job, but being out of the safe house and back at his desk was nice too. Especially when the people around him made him feel as if he’d been missed.

He’d barely made it to his desk when Aidan Conrad dragged him to the dojo for a sparring session that left his body sore all over, his muscles like jelly, and his brain humming contentedly. A big breakfast came next, and he had just settled in front of his screens with a huge mug of coffee when Frazer rolled up to discuss a Trojan he’d designed to trace the leaked data. And that thing was so elegant it left Jack wondering if the Scot would be up for extra money and excitement in his life. After that, they were busy plotting and planning until a text flashed up on his computer screen just before lunch.

Fancy dinner at my place?

While he’d been on babysitting duty, Gareth had taken to texting him. At first just a simple check-in every few hours, then the odd question, until they had spent the small hours in silent conversation while Jack stood guard in the sleeping house. Now it looked as if Jack’s being back at work wasn’t going to change that.

Sounds good. Need to pop home first. Feed the dog.

You don’t have a dog.

Same difference.

The next message took its time coming, suggesting that Gareth was rolling his eyes. Or trying to decipher Horwood code.

Anything you want for dinner?
Gareth asked after a time.

I’m easy.

I know, but that wasn’t the question.

Jack grinned, excited by the prospect of having dinner with Gareth. They’d used the time apart to catch up and relearn each other, strange as that sounded
. Surprise me
, he texted back.

S
TREETLIGHTS
GLOWED
through the thin mist like orange Christmas baubles strung up early, giving the quiet Richmond cul-de-sac an almost Victorian feel—if one ignored the cars lining curbs and driveways, that was.

Jack parked his Gixxer beside Gareth’s Triumph, blew warm breath on his freezing fingers, and berated himself for forgetting his gloves. He was relieved to find that Gareth was home, as if, at the very back of his mind, he’d expected the man to stand him up.

The porch light was on, and the enticing aromas of spices and roasting meat hung around the front door. It didn’t smell like anything he could identify, and as Jack leaned on the bell, he wondered about the extent of Gareth’s culinary skills.

While they’d served together, Gareth had mastered the art of one-pot cooking for a crowd, using whatever ingredients came his way. He’d had a well-deserved reputation, and their fire had always been good for tasty, filling stews and the very best curries. Jack also recalled large pans of softly scrambled eggs and even pancakes on the odd day when eggs, flour, and milk happened to coincide with time to cook breakfast.

Whatever Gareth was cooking tonight smelled homely and inviting, yet at the same time richer than the food Gareth’s mother had cooked during the week Jack had been staying with her and the boys. More… decadent, somehow, and Jack’s stomach growled in happy anticipation.

“I almost thought you weren’t coming.”

“Yeah, I can smell that you thought that.” The smile on Gareth’s face started butterflies in Jack’s gut. He managed a smile of his own, held out the wine he’d brought, and then bent to take off his motorcycle boots. “What
is
this, anyway?”

“Goose.”

“Goose?”

“Goose.”

Jack looked up into amber eyes and considered. Gareth didn’t seem to be pulling his leg. And technically goose was very much like duck or chicken, so why shouldn’t it be edible?

“You said you didn’t have any preferences, and I felt like it. It’s a grown-up thing, sort of.” Gareth sounded almost apologetic as he set the wine on the shoe cupboard and turned to lock the door. “You don’t have a problem with eating goose, do you?”

“I’ll tell you after dinner,” Jack said. He set his boots down and shrugged out of his jacket, hanging it beside Gareth’s. Freed from the restraints of damp leather, he wrapped his arms around Gareth’s neck. “It smells damn nice. And I missed you.”

“In that order?” Gareth wasn’t slow returning the embrace. He nuzzled Jack’s shirt collar out of the way to trace his lips along the strip of leather around Jack’s throat.

“Maybe not,” Jack allowed, tilting his head to give Gareth’s lips more space to explore. The warmth and soft light, the scents of cooking, Gareth’s hands and mouth on him, even the shivers running up his spine, all made Jack feel as if he was coming home—until a sudden alarm sent his hand flashing for a weapon.

“Dinner’s ready.” Gareth’s warm breath against Jack’s neck comforted and soothed, and he was unfazed by Jack’s grab for the knife. “Good timing.” He dropped a brief kiss on Jack’s forehead and headed toward the kitchen. “Bring the wine?”

“My timing’s crap,” Jack groused, shoving the knife back into its sheath and picking up the bottles. He’d been hungry when he arrived, but now his body didn’t want goose. It wanted Gareth. And it was anyone’s guess when he was going to get that.

J
ACK
’
S
SUDDEN
grumpy mood didn’t last. Not once he stepped into the kitchen and caught sight of Gareth lifting a roasting tray from the warming oven. After the chilly gray mist outside, Gareth’s kitchen was a haven of warmth, wonderful aromas, and soft music. Not a place to stay grumpy.

“We’re eating in here?”

Jack waved at the large farmhouse table, where plates and silverware sat next to bottles of water and outsized wine glasses.

“Didn’t feel like setting a fire. Do you mind?”

“Nope.” Jack leaned his head back and took a deep breath. “That smells heavenly.” His stomach agreed, loudly and insistently. “Anything I can do?”

“Wine.”

Jack found the corkscrew and got busy while Gareth carved the goose and placed laden dishes on the table. In no time at all, they sat facing each other and touched glasses.

Jack hunted for words to continue the quiet discussions they’d been having all week, but his brain had called a timeout. He focused on his plate instead, consoling himself with the thought that it was rude to talk with his mouth full, and Gareth’s feast deserved to be enjoyed.

“Every time I come here, you feed me,” he observed when his plate was half-empty, not needing to look up to know that Gareth’s eyebrow was shooting up.

“That a complaint?”

“Nah. Is this pineapple?”

“Yes.”

“And it’s purple because?”

“Red cabbage bleeds when it cooks.”

“So, why do you feed me every time I’m here?”

“Because it’s polite. Because you need food. Because I like cooking for people. Take your pick.” Gareth reached for the wine and topped up their glasses, and Jack frowned at the mashed potatoes on his plate until Gareth took pity on him and asked about Nico and Daniel.

“You’d never guess that Nico’s the younger of the two,” Jack said, after he’d told Gareth of his suspicion that the pimp had been keeping more than just Ricky, Daniel, and Nico locked up. “Nico deals with all that crap head-on. Daniel’s the tricky one. He’s scared shitless, and he hides.”

“Have you noticed how unbelievably quiet those two are?”

Jack shrugged, not looking up. “Yeah.”