Zero at the Bone (33 page)

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess nothing. I guess that’s all I can expect from you. I guess that’s all you have to give me. Nothing.”

D stared and stared out that window. “Told ya that’s all I had.” 148 | Jane Seville

“But it wasn’t. You had more, and don’t you sit there and tell me you didn’t. Don’t you
tell me
that it all meant nothing to you!” Jack found himself shouting without realizing he’d started.

D stood up and whipped off the sunglasses. “What the fuck ya want from me, Jack?” His eyes were angry and challenging, but Jack wasn’t impressed.

“Nothing. I don’t want a goddamn thing from you, D. I just want to get out of here so I can start trying to forget you.” He stomped across the room to the door.

“Don’t go out there,” D said. “Might be dangerous.” Jack rounded on him. “What the fuck do you care, anyway?” He stepped outside and slammed the door behind him, got in the car and drove away with no thought in his mind as to where he might be going.

JACK didn’t return to the motel until nearly midnight. He’d found a Denny’s a few blocks away and had sat in a corner booth drinking coffee and eating pancakes, because pancakes sounded good and he wanted them, dammit. The waitress didn’t ask him any questions as he continued to sit there hour after hour, sucking down coffee and staring into space.

It’s better this way. Make a clean break. Don’t muddle things up with last-minute
declarations or some kind of half-assed attempt to wring a promise out of him that’s
clearly not forthcoming. Let it die, let it be what it was, take your memories and run, and
try not to think about it. Accept what he’s been able to give you, don’t ask for or expect
anything more, and just be very glad that you never told him how you really feel.

And how do you really feel?

Like I’ll never recover. Like I’ll never draw another breath without half of it being
a wish for him.

He pulled up in front of their room and shut off the engine. The window was dark, but he knew that D wasn’t asleep. Still, he tried to be quiet as he unlocked the door and entered, just in case.

He shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. D was sitting on the bed nearest the door, fully clothed, only his sunglasses off, his elbows resting on his knees as he smoked what smelled like his hundredth cigarette. He didn’t look up as Jack entered.

For a long moment they both stayed where they were, not speaking.

“You tryin’ ta punish me fer somethin’?” D finally growled, his voice rough with cigarette smoke.

Jack shook his head. “I can’t punish you for who you are.”

“You been gone a long fuckin’ time.”

“Had some things to think about.”

“Like what?” He lit another cigarette.

Jack sighed. “Like how I’ve been expecting a lot from you, more than you could give. It’s just that the way you were in Redding… I don’t know. Maybe it got my hopes up too much.”

D shook his head a little. “What is it yer hopin’ for, Jack?”

“Oh, nothing much. Stupid things like you and me in a house with a dog and a vegetable garden, and Sunday mornings in bed with coffee and the paper.” Zero at the Bone | 149

D was silent for a long time. “Jus’ ’cause somethin’ ain’t possible don’t make it stupid,” he finally said, quietly. “And I shouldn’t a… well, I shoulda been more careful.

Don’t know how I let it go as far’s it did.”

“Are you sorry?”

He looked up and met Jack’s eyes for the first time, glittering in the dimness. “I ain’t said that.”

Jack nodded, breaking D’s gaze to look down at his shoes. “I’m going to get up early and head out. I’ll call a cab so you can have the car.”

“All right.”

“Look… let’s just leave it there, okay? I don’t know if I can take saying goodbye to you, D.” D said nothing, cigarette dangling limply, his hands clasped loose between his knees. “So I’ll try not to wake you, and if I do, just… pretend to be asleep until I’m gone.” D wordlessly stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray at his side. “Just let me go, all right?” Still no response. Jack nodded, taking D’s silence as all the acknowledgment he could expect. He took off his jacket and started toward the bathroom.

He was drawn up short when D reached out and grabbed his hand in a fast, convulsive jerk like he’d tried to stop himself but his hand was quicker. Jack stopped where he was, then looked back over his shoulder. D was still sitting there in the same position. Only his hand had moved and was now clutching Jack’s hard enough to pinch.

Jack stepped back a little and turned to face him. He watched, speechless, as D

drew Jack’s hand close and rubbed his forehead across it. He grasped it with both hands and pressed it to his face in an unlovely, helpless clutch, whipsaw breaths exhaling moisture onto Jack’s fingers. “D…,” he whispered.

D pulled on his arm and reeled him closer, then dropped his hand and pressed his face into Jack’s belly, his arms going around Jack’s hips. “I cain’t,” Jack heard him murmur. Jack wondered what it was that D couldn’t do. There were too many choices.

Jesus. I can’t take this.
Jack wished, just for the moment, that he were the kind of man who could remain impassive and resolute at such a time, but he wasn’t. He sagged into D’s arms, wrapping one of his own around D’s shoulders and cupping the back of his head with his other hand. D was just sitting there, his face still pressed into Jack’s stomach, breathing in long, emphatic pulls like he was getting ready to free-dive, saturating his insides with Jack before the deep plunge.

Jack slid to his knees within the circle of D’s arms so they were face-to-face. He cupped D’s face in his hands and made him meet his eyes. “What?” he asked. “What is it?”

D just shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

“Why?”

He stared into Jack’s eyes, his own blank and confused. “I didn’t wanna let it get me,” he said, sounding hoarse. “I didn’t wanna feel it. I’m sorry.” Jack nodded. “I know.”

“I dunno what ta do.”

“Me neither.”

“I cain’t let ya leave like that, like ya said you was gonna.”

“I didn’t want to. You were making me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t you be sorry.” The tears had escaped and were running down Jack’s face by now.

“We coulda had that whole trip together—”

150 | Jane Seville

“Shh. It’s too late for that now. We still have tonight.” D nodded, then seized Jack’s face in shaking hands and kissed him, a hard, frantic kiss that pushed quickly through Jack’s lips and made him push back, gripping D’s shoulders to keep from toppling over backward. D broke off and stood up, pulling Jack to his feet and going for his clothes. Jack shoved D’s jacket off, then yanked at his shirt until it yielded. They push-walked each other around the bed, kicking off shoes and disentangling from mischievous pant legs that wanted to trip them up until they crawled together into the bed, naked and sighing their relief into each other’s mouths, murmuring nonsense syllables to fill the stark memories of the past two weeks.

In the hours that followed, it seemed to Jack that the dingy walls of the motel room flew apart and left them wrapped up in the center of some vast plain of emptiness, clinging together to keep it at bay, hardly daring to speak or let their lips part company or else it would dive in and take them too soon. He shut his eyes and arched his neck as D

rocked into him, their limbs tangled together and laced like clasped fingers, moaning with pleasure and hearing D whisper in his ear, flipping them over so he was on top and could ride D hard, looking down into his face.

They’d barely caught their breath before D was reaching for him again, sliding down the bed to take Jack in his mouth, then crouching over Jack’s face at the head of the bed. They collapsed into a tangled heap, Jack holding D tightly to his chest and feeling the thump of his heart through both their skins. They dozed in fits and starts, waking each other with touches which turned time and again into sex until by the time morning came they were both rubbed raw, exhausted and limp.

Eight o’clock. Jack sat up and swung his legs out of bed. He heard D roll toward him, seeking his warmth again. “Hmm,” he grunted. “Timezit?” Jack sighed. “Eight.”

Long pause. “Oh.”

“I have to shower and get going.”

“Uh-huh.”

Jack got up quickly and went into the bathroom, hoping he’d make it. He managed to hold it in until he had the water going strong, then he stepped under the spray and cried, hoping the shower would cover the sound. When he’d calmed down enough, he washed quickly, smiling ruefully at the many red marks D had left on his body. He stepped out of the shower and shaved, then brushed his teeth.

When he emerged, D was sitting at the end of the bed, the sheets pooled around his naked hips, smoking. He glanced up at Jack. “You look a fair sight perkier’n I feel.”

“Looks can be deceiving. I’m fucking exhausted.” D nodded. “But it… was worth it, weren’t it?”

Jack smiled wearily, then leaned over and kissed his forehead. “You bet it was.” D cleared his throat and looked away, uncomfortable as always with expressions of tender feeling. “You, uh… pick which one you wanna take.” Jack frowned. “Which one what?”

“Gun, dumbass.”

“You’re
giving
me one of your guns?”

“You put in the time on ’em. You oughta have some protection on yer person.”

“Won’t they take it from me?”

“Ask yer friend Churchill if he can get ya a permit ta carry concealed. Seein’s as you got death threats hangin’ over ya that shouldn’t be no problem.” Zero at the Bone | 151

Jack nodded. “Okay.” He hauled the gun case off the floor and opened it on the motel table, looking across at all D’s guns, many of which were now familiar as old friends to him. “I think I’ll take the Glock.”

“Thought you’d pick that one,” D said. “Yer good with that weapon.”

“It’s my favorite. Still wish you’d let me shoot that Desert Eagle, though.” D chuckled. “Hell, I hardly ever use that one myself. Too much gun. Now, I want ya ta stay sharp with yer hand-ta-hand too. Lotsa martial-arts studios are offering Krav Maga workouts these days. See if you can find one.”

“Okay, I will.”

“I ain’t gonna be ’round ta pick up yer slack, ya know. And them instructors out there in the real world ain’t gonna coddle ya like I done.” D was smirking, so Jack knew he was just taking the piss.

Jack loaded the Glock and slipped it into his bag along with several boxes of ammunition. He turned slowly and looked at D sitting there, looking uncharacteristically defenseless, naked with a haze of smoke hovering around his head. Jack sat down at his side. “I have to go soon,” he whispered.

D nodded.

“D, I… I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Don’t hafta say nothin’.”

Jack stared at his lowered profile. “Thanks for my life.” D lifted his head and met Jack’s eyes, and for the first time, Jack could see Anson looking back at him, the façade that he called D worn thin and threadbare. “Thanks for mine.”

Jack reached out and twined their fingers together. His heart was breaking; there just wasn’t a way to put a nice face on it, and there was no way to say it to him.

“So yer gonna go testify,” D said, staring at the carpet. “Then yer gonna go inta Witsec. I gotta hit the road and try’n figure out who set me up fer this before they find me and kill me. Right?”

Jack nodded. “Right.”

“And that’s it, then.”

“Yeah.”

D cleared his throat. “And, uh… yer okay with leaving it at that, are ya?” Jack stared at him. “Don’t we have to?”

“I dunno.” D met his eyes. “Do we?”

Jack’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “D… what—”

“Jack, I… I done a lot a thinkin’ these past weeks, and especially last night. Don’t think I slept at all. Just lyin’ there thinkin’, mostly. Thinkin’ ’bout what you gotta do, and what I gotta do, and all the fuckers want either or both of us on slabs. But mostly thinkin’

that…. Well, I know how it’s s’posed ta be it fer us now. We’re s’posed ta part ways and not look back, right?” Jack nodded. “Ya know what I’m thinkin’ now?”

“What?”

“Fuck that.”

Jack choked out a surprised bark of laughter that was half a sob. He reached out and grasped the back of D’s neck, bringing their foreheads together. “Really?” he whispered.

He felt D nod.

“You still gotta do what you gotta do. And I gotta do my thing too. But… that ain’t forever.”

152 | Jane Seville

“I’ll be in Witsec,” Jack said. “I’ll have a different name, I don’t know where I’ll be living….”

D drew back and took Jack’s face in his hands. “I’ll find you. You hear me?” Jack nodded, a lump rising in his throat. “I’ll find you.”

“H… how long?”

“I dunno. Could be years.”

Jack met his eyes. “I’ll wait.”

They sat there staring at each other for a long moment. The honking of Jack’s cab outside broke into the silence, and D looked away. “You better get goin’.” Jack nodded and got up. Each step heavy, he took his bags outside, held up a “just a minute” finger to the driver, stepped back inside the room and shut the door behind him.

D had pulled on his jeans and was standing there staring into space. “D,” Jack said.

He looked up, and Jack felt the words rocketing up his throat.
I love you. You don’t
have to say it back. You already said it, not in so many words. But I want you to know, I
want to say it, I want you to hear it and believe it. I love you.
He opened his mouth, then saw the warning in D’s eyes and the words shriveled up behind his lips.

They met each other halfway and wrapped up in a tight embrace.
Jesus, just let me
get out of here before I lose it completely.
D drew back and ran his thumb over Jack’s lips, silencing him. He sighed. “You be careful.”

“You too.”

“I’m always careful.”

“I’ll have armed men protecting me; you won’t.”

“Nope. Just myself.”

Jack stood there paralyzed. “Say it again,” he whispered.

D cupped his cheek and lifted his head to meet his eyes. “I’ll find you,” he said, low and implacable.