Zero at the Bone (23 page)

A few moments passed in tense silence. “You wanna tell me what’s up yer ass?” D

said, immediately regretting the unintentionally loaded metaphor.

Jack didn’t seem to notice. “Who the hell was doing the shooting, D? Someone else you haven’t told me about?”

“Now look here, who says I gotta tell you about every damned thing in the world?” D said.

“When somebody’s shooting a rifle in my direction and narrowly missing your head I’d like to be kept in the loop.”

D sighed. “Jus’ a friend a mine. Well… not a friend, really. Somebody I trust.”
Somebody who may or may not have been watchin’ me without my knowledge fer weeks
now
. “Is that what yer ticked off about?”

“Who says I’m ticked off?”

“Yer actin’ awful pissy if you ain’t.”

Jack stared out the passenger window, his chin on his hand. “If your friend hadn’t been able to help you, would you still have traded yourself?” D didn’t answer. No answer was required. Jack sighed. “Yeah, I thought so. I just…. I almost got you killed.”

“Wasn’t you.”

“The hell it wasn’t. You would have given yourself up to save me. Why?” D’s jaw tightened. “Right thing ta do.”

“I don’t know what the right thing is anymore.”

“Yeah. Story a my fuckin’ life, Jack.”

THEY arrived in Redding just before ten. D pulled up to a comfortable-looking ranch house in a quiet neighborhood. They’d barely spoken for the entire trip, but it had been excruciating anyway. Seemed like the air was shimmering inside the car, like heat rising Zero at the Bone | 101

off a highway, zinging around in the space between them like they were giving off radiation. The kind that burned you.

D could tell that Jack was tense. His whole body was giving it off, that keep-it-together vibe. What was it that he wanted to say? Or do? Did he want to touch D, or make some kind of heartfelt confession that neither of them were ready for? D prayed that they could pass the time inside this forced proximity without incident, and was profoundly glad to climb out of the car and away from that shimmering that laid on his skin like a night sweat.

He found the key to his brother’s house, a new trepidation rising in his chest as he approached the front door. He’d never brought anyone here before, and it felt dangerous.

It was too close to what he’d left behind. There were things inside that connected him to who he used to be, things that Jack would undoubtedly ferret out with his nose for the sensitive spots, things that D wasn’t ready to confront or explain.

He opened the house and they carried their things inside, leaving them in the middle of the living room for the time being. Jack put their groceries in the fridge, opening a bottle of water for himself. D checked the doors and windows, making sure everything was locked up tight.

When he returned to the living room, Jack was standing at the window looking out, silhouetted by the glow of the streetlight outside. D just stood there and watched him, paralyzed by indecision, struck mute by too many years of self-censor.

Yer fuckin’ foolin’ yerself. Or tryin’ to, and not doin’ such a good job. You want
him. You need him. And it’s got ya so petrified you cain’t even reach out ta him after ya
both just narrowly escaped gettin’ killed
.

D shut his eyes, every cell in his body pushing and pulling at him… pulling him toward Jack, pushing him away, a tug-of-war where nobody won.

He shuffled forward, slow and hesitant steps that drew him up behind Jack. He didn’t turn from the window although he surely knew D was there. D’s hand rose from his side, a marionette arm on strings, his breath going shaky and panicked like a spooked horse. Jack didn’t move.

Fuck it.
D let his hand fall to Jack’s shoulder. He felt him flinch a little at the contact, but he didn’t turn. The feeling of Jack beneath his hand, warm through his shirt and solid and strong and alive, sent another blast against that vault door, shuddering it on its hinges. He put his free hand on Jack’s other shoulder, his head sagging down. He could feel Jack thrumming, like putting his hand on the hood of a car with the engine running.

D gave up. He couldn’t fight this, at least not now. The horror of seeing Jack’s jacket pinned to the front door of the cabin, the fear of what had happened to him, the ease with which he’d decided that he’d trade himself for Jack, and now the relief of having him back safe—it was all too much, even for him. He tilted forward until his forehead was resting against the back of Jack’s neck. A great exhale rushed from him and he found himself hanging on to Jack’s shoulders for dear life.

Jack didn’t move. D didn’t really need him to; he just needed to stand there, feeling the warmth of Jack’s body and the pulse in his throat, the life that he’d spared and to which his own had quickly become secondary.

All at once, D felt the tension leave Jack’s shoulders. Jack turned quickly and pressed hard against D, a sharp exhale rushing from his throat. D sucked in a breath and shut his eyes, clutching Jack to his chest and holding him fast, Jack’s arms around his shoulders.

102 | Jane Seville

“I can’t believe you came for me,” Jack whispered against D’s neck.

“Hadta,” he said.

“Why?”

“Shhh,” D said. “Jus’….” He hesitated. “Jus’ lemme hold ya fer a minute, okay?” he whispered. Maybe if he was quiet enough, it wouldn’t really be him saying it. “Don’t ask me no questions. Jus’ lemme feel yer safe.” Jack sighed and his arms tightened around D. “D?”

“Hmm?”

“I might want to hold you longer than a minute.”

“Hmm. I s’pose.”

Zero at the Bone | 103

STANDING there in front of the window with D’s arms wrapped around him, Jack had to wonder if it hadn’t been worth being kidnapped and roughed up after all.

He would have stood there forever, but predictably, D pulled away. “Hmm,” he grumbled. “S’have a drink.” He stepped back and patted Jack’s shoulder.
Like we’re
goddamned drinking buddies having an after-work beer.

He followed D into the kitchen and sat down at the round table in the breakfast nook. He looked around; he’d been too distracted to notice much about the house when they’d first arrived. “Nice place.”

“Keeps the rain off,” D said. He poured two glasses of scotch and sat down at Jack’s side. Jack guessed that they’d have to have some kind of conversation now.

Anything to keep from acknowledging that it was late, the traditional time for sleeping, because that would lead to talk about sleeping arrangements, which would mean that they’d have to at least let it enter their heads that there was some kind of question about who might sleep where and in whose company.

Jack picked up his glass.
So much for beer.
He took a swallow. “So, are we going to talk about what happened on the dam? Or just pretend it’s business as usual in our exciting lives?”

D snorted. “Mine, maybe. Not yours.” He peered at him. “You sure yer okay?

That’s a helluva shiner.”

It was pretty damn sore, but Jack sure wasn’t going to let D see how much. “I’ll live.”

D got up and went to the freezer. He got a towel out of a drawer and put some ice cubes from their cooler on it, then wrapped it up into a cold pack. “Here,” he said, returning to the table. “Put this on it.”

“Who’s the doctor here?” Jack said, taking the pack.

“I had enough black eyes in my time, I don’t need ta have no MD ta know how ta treat ’em.” He reached out and pushed Jack’s hand and the towel tighter against his bruised eye socket. “You hold that close up, now. Help with the swellin’.” Jack held the ice to his face, propping his elbow on the tabletop. “I didn’t even hear them coming,” he said, quietly. “They must have knocked me right out. I have a lump on the back of my head. I’m fine,” he said, off D’s furrowing brow. “I know the signs of a concussion, so quit clucking. All I know is one minute I was walking on the drive, the next minute I was waking up in the trunk of a car.”

“Did ya see or hear anythin’?”

104 | Jane Seville

“They had me blindfolded and my ears plugged. I didn’t see or hear a thing.” He looked at D, who was staring morosely into his untouched scotch. “Did you know those guys?”

He shook his head. “Not those guys in particular, no. Sure’s shit they were just hired muscle.”

Jack swallowed. “Hired by whom?”

D looked at him, the first time he’d done so since they sat down, and chuckled a little. “Listen a you. ‘Hired by whom.’ Talkin’ ’bout hired guns ’n’ yer all usin’ correct grammar.”

“Are you going to answer my question?”

“Would if I had an answer.”

“You must have some idea.”

D knocked back the entire shot of scotch, grimacing. “Guess so.” Jack waited. “Well?”

He was just sitting there, staring at the empty glass, turning it around and around in his fingers. Jack reached out a tentative hand and laid it on his forearm. D jerked and glanced up, then sighed. “I guess you got a right ta know. It’s yer ass as much as it is mine now. They came after you ta get ta me.”

“Who, D?”

He put the glass aside and turned to face him, visibly steeling himself. “Jack, I got some stuff ta tell ya. ’bout myself.”

Jack took a breath. “About… your family?”

D blinked in confusion. “What? No, no. This ain’t about that.”

“What, then?” D still hesitated. Jack ducked his head, trying to meet his eyes. “D…

you know you can trust me, right?”

D fidgeted a little. “S’a hard thing. I only trusted one person fer a long time. Not so easy with somebody new.”

“But… do you?”

He raised his head and their eyes met. “Yeah. I do.”

“Then tell me. Tell me the truth.”

D nodded, and squared his shoulders. “You ‘member when I told you about them contracts I would never take? Never forget what ya said. Might as well have shot ’em myself if I knew they was in for it and did nothin’.” Jack nodded. “I remember. I guess I said some pretty harsh things.”

“You ain’t said nothin’ that weren’t true. But I’m tellin’ ya now that….” He sighed.

“Well, I
was
doin’ somethin’.”

Jack frowned. “What do you mean?”

D shut his eyes for a moment and opened them again, and Jack could all but see him flinging himself off the edge of the cliff and into the chasm. “Thing is… I been workin’ with the Bureau. Goin’ on three years now.” Jack’s mouth dropped open. “The FBI?”

“The same. Real hard fer them ta get a handle on folks in my line a work. Like ghosts, we are. No connections, no identities. Hard ta track. Damn near impossible to anticipate. When I saw one a them contracts, the ones I wouldn’t never take… well, sometimes I’d give the Bureau a little heads-up.”

“Only sometimes?”

D sighed again. “If I did it every time, it wouldn’t take long fer somebody ta get wise.” He snorted. “I guess somebody did.”

Zero at the Bone | 105

“You think somebody knows about what you’re doing and is trying to… what, exactly?”

“Take care of it. But not just that. They want ta take some revenge too. I got my suspicions that somebody out there wants ta make me suffer for it, so they made me take yer contract. Reckon if I’d a done the job, they’d a made sure I went ta the chair for the murder of a witness. Kinda like poetic justice, ya see? Make me do myself in by way a killin’ you?” Jack nodded. “But ’cause I didn’t, now they jus’ want me dead. Probly with malice aforethought, as they say.”

Jack was still taking this all in.
I knew he wasn’t bad. Not really. I just knew it.
“D, I’ll be honest. I’m glad to hear you’ve been trying to do something about all this.” He shrugged. “I didn’t dream a bein’ a cold-blooded killer when I was a boy, Jack.

There’s reasons I am how I am, and why I’m doin’ what I’m doin’. Time came them reasons weren’t enough no more.”

“Helping save people… that must have made it easier to take, huh?”

“Made it harder.”

“How’s that?”

“Jack…. Christ, I ain’t never talked about this. You jus’ keep draggin’ shit outta me, Francisco.”

“It’s a gift.” Jack smirked a little, but it was wasted on D, who was keeping his face studiously averted.

“Somethin’ happens ta you when… well, when ya do what I do, and… ya lose things. Cain’t let nothin’ out. Lock it all away. Had it down pretty good. Still do, as ya may a noticed.”

“What, you? Closed off? Nope, hadn’t noticed.”

D went on as if Jack had not spoken. “It’s easy when ya jus’ put yer head down and ignore it all. But then I hadta start really lookin’. How d’ya decide which a four innocent people yer gonna try’n save? Couldn’t save ’em all, or else I’d be no good to none of

’em. Made it worse. Hadta lock up even tighter. Hard enough when yer not lookin’ at the ones ya cain’t save. Gets even harder when ya start takin’ peeks.”

“You still killed people, though.”

D nodded. “Ones I thought had it comin’.”

“And that’s your call to make?”
Shut up, Jack. This is not the time for this
discussion.
Too late.

His head swiveled back toward Jack. “Who else? The fuckin’ justice system? You gotta be kiddin’ me. The same justice system where a small-time dope dealer gets ten years while a child killer gets three? Them’re some fucked-up priorities. I ain’t got that problem.”