Job Hunt (34 page)

This… only this….

Gareth’s fingers caught in Jack’s dark spikes and pulled his head back. Lips slanted down over his, touching messily between gasps and groans. The grip tightened, and Jack’s whole body arched and tensed. He almost stopped breathing as the tension grew like a wave, tall enough to swamp him. A tight fist wrapped around him and squeezed… and Jack was done. His body jerked and shuddered with the savage release, and he heard Gareth’s answering groan as Jack’s orgasm pushed him over the edge a moment later.

Gareth’s arms wrapped him up and held him so tight he feared for his ribs. Breath was hard to come by, as was logic, but Jack had just enough presence of mind to know what he needed to say. He turned in Gareth’s embrace, rested his cheek against the other man’s, and smiled so widely that Gareth would feel it.

“Better?”

A deep sigh whooshed out of Gareth’s chest, and he slumped sideways against the wall. “I’ll tell you when my brain’s working again,” he murmured, breath warm on Jack’s ear. “I’m sorry I—”

“Hey,” Jack interrupted. “You don’t get to apologize for something that awesome. You don’t get to apologize for needing it, either. Not if we’re partners.”

He pulled Gareth close and smiled in triumph when Gareth let go, slumped against him, and let himself be held.

R
AF
’
S
CALL
came midmorning, when it was too late for breakfast and still too early for lunch.

Not that Jack had suffered a lack of breakfast or any other comfort that morning. He’d woken to a blowjob that almost blew his head off, and Gareth hadn’t stopped with that rather pointed display of affection. There’d been a long hot shower, more entertainment of the skin-on-skin variety, and then Gareth had made sure to provide more breakfast than even Jack could eat in one sitting.

Blissed out and overfed, it had taken Jack a while to remember his name. And a while longer to work out the reason for Gareth’s excessive solicitude. Once he
had
worked it out, had realized that Gareth felt he owed apologies for the previous night’s impassioned encounter and what he considered his loss of control, anger swiftly washed the last of the cobwebs from Jack’s mind.

The resulting fight was short, loud, heavy on the profanities, and ended with Jack pinned to the kitchen door. Gareth’s face, when he realized he’d lost it yet again, had been a study.

Jack cherished the laughter that followed. Gareth might remember a lot about their time serving together, but he’d forgotten a lot too. Some days Jack just had to remind him that he was stronger than Gareth thought. And a lot more stubborn than that.

“T
HERE
’
S
A
board meeting at two today,” Gareth informed him as they stepped into the buzzing office, only fifteen minutes later than usual. “You’re presenting.”

“In your dreams,” Jack huffed, glad to note that nothing they’d done or said in the last two days made any difference to how they now worked together. So when Raf called to tell him that he’d put eyes into the building Mitrovic ran as an upscale dining club and wanted to discuss the previous night’s results, Jack didn’t hesitate.

“Are you anywhere you can conference?”

“I’m at the Yard. Lisa and Baxter are here.”

“Let me get a room. I’ll call you back in a minute.”

Commandeering the small conference room at the far end of the corporate security office took moments. Gareth, Aidan, and Alex responded to his call and brief explanation with equal swiftness. Soon enough they sat around the big screen and watched Wednesday night at Goran Mitrovic’s private members’ dining club.

The clientele was a mix of professionals in their forties and fifties, smartly dressed and networking with the ease of long experience. Most enjoyed their food, many drank more than was perhaps advisable, and a few men were being handed what looked like a photo album along with their menus. Those men later entered the back of the club through a guarded door before returning to their tables half an hour to an hour later.

“It’s too quick for gambling and too long for snorting a line,” Baxter said, voice hopeful.

“None of them look the drug-taking kind, anyway.”

“There’s a theme night tonight.”

Raf sounded so strange that the hair on the back of Jack’s neck stood up. “What is it?” he asked, trepidation heating his gut.

“A fetish night.”

Jack groaned. “Let me guess: school uniforms?”

“Leather and Lace. I’ve snagged a leaflet, and it shows pictures of boys in leather. According to the blurb almost anything goes.” Raf held the A5 sheet in front of the camera so Jack could see and read it.

“Leaflets? Oh joy.” Jack caught Gareth’s concerned gaze and tried to muster a smile.

“Don’t,” Gareth admonished. “Do you think the boys are kept at the club?”

“Too risky. Clubs and restaurants are apt to be inspected at short notice. He’ll bring them in for the night and move them come morning.”

“Can we raid the club during theme night?”

“No. Too many unknowns.”

To Jack’s surprise Lisa backed him up. “Given our
little problem
”—her fingers drew quotes in the air beside her head—“he’ll go to ground if he gets wind of any police activity. We’re better off with an undercover attempt.”

“Can we ask Daniel and Nico if they know about the dining club? If they’ve been there, maybe they can describe the car journey?”

“Yeah… no.” Jack was adamant. Nico’s halting words echoed in his ears, and in the back of his mind ran an endless loop of men in suits walking down a quiet corridor, returning after a time with satisfied grins on their faces.

Once more he heard the soft, flat sounds of footsteps on cheap carpet, the shiver-inducing scrape of a key turning in a lock, the menace of door hinges creaking softly. Every muscle in his body tensed, though the loop of memories rewound from there, as if his mind shied away from what had come next.

He would
not
force Daniel and Nico to relive those nights over and over. He would just find a way to—

“Jack, something’s bothering you.”

The conference room came back into focus around him. Six pairs of eyes watched him with concern, and Jack blinked once. He imagined his memories drifting through the room like smoke, to be blown into oblivion by the cool fresh air streaming down from the vents.

He focused on the question he’d been asked and rested his chin on his folded hands. “I think he’s recruiting,” he said after a moment of watching Gareth’s eyes change color with the passage of clouds across the sky. It was a peaceful sight, at odds with the noise in his head. “It all fits: publicized, open event, Thursday night. The club’s closed on Fridays, since very few regular members will be in town. Easy to open the place and have it back in working order by Sunday even if you add plentiful booze, pills, and backroom action. There’ll be cameras all over the shop, and the most likely candidates won’t make it home come morning.”

“Christ!” The bitten-off curse came from Aidan, and Jack saw the full lips tighten in anger. “So what can we actually do?”

Jack kept it short and his language professional. “Keep an eye on Mitrovic and follow him when he leaves. Take him somewhere quiet and find out where the boys are. Take him out before he authorizes acquisitions.”

“Have a few teams standing by to go get the boys out as soon as we have an address,” Raf completed the thought. “I can see that.”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Lisa cautioned. “Not having a warrant works to our advantage with the security issues. But it means we’re limited on manpower. You won’t have teams all over the city ready to roll at a moment’s notice.”

“’S not much of an issue,” Jack said confidently. “We just keep Mitrovic incommunicado until Raf has got the boys.”

“Just?”

“Oh please!” Jack crossed his arms and tried to look as if need and rage weren’t boiling in his gut like freshly extruded lava. He felt the touch of sweaty hands dragging on his skin, the sticky chill of saliva running down his neck, the…. Jack squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth until his jaw ached. He would go to that damn fetish night and find out where Goran Mitrovic was keeping the other boys prisoner. The courts could have the bastard if there was anything left after Jack was done.

“Hold up a sec,” Aidan’s deep voice cut in. “What if he has some of the boys with him?”

“If he leaves with them, we follow him,” Jack said tonelessly. “If he sends them home early, Raf can follow the boys, and I keep an eye on Mitrovic. If Raf’s lucky we find the brothel without having to ask him.”

And wouldn’t that be a shame.

“What about backup for you?”

Of course Gareth would ask. Jack cursed himself for trying to play by the book. If he’d taken Raf’s call alone, Jack would already be well on the way to the fetish night. This wasn’t Jack’s first rodeo, and he neither needed nor wanted backup. More fingers in this pie only meant more noses to put out of joint.

“I’m good,” he answered at the same time as Lisa said: “I’m going with you.”

“What?”

“He’s seen you twice,” Lisa argued. “Best use me as a shield before he gets suspicious.”

Jack stared at the large screen, willing Lisa to retract her words. She made sense, but she didn’t know how Jack worked, didn’t realize what she was getting herself into. And Jack didn’t want to explain.

Alex Marston was the only person here who might have an idea, but Alex stayed silent even when Jack shot her a look. Instead of dissuading Lisa, Alex returned Jack’s look with a small smile. One that made a shiver run down Jack’s back.

“H
IDING
ON
the roof won’t get you out of it,” Gareth commented as he settled himself against the waist-high parapet. Jack had been tricky to find, and his posture—knees up against his chest and arms curled tight around them—telegraphed loudly how uncomfortable he felt.

“Fuck it, Flynn,” Jack complained even as he accepted the mug of coffee—black, sweet—that Gareth held out to him. “I don’t have anything to prove.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Then why do you want me to stand up in front of the board of directors?”

“Maybe I want to show you off.”

“Bullshit.”

“Not,” Gareth argued with a smile. Jack was adorable, all tied in knots. It made a welcome change from the uncommunicative, detached badass Jack was turning into before their eyes. Gareth understood that Jack needed the distance to deal with Mitrovic, but at least Jack
could
still change,
could
still gripe and mope. He hadn’t withdrawn so far into himself that he was impossible to reach.

Jack had surprised all of them when he called them in to talk over their plans. Alex confided later that she had been prepared for Jack to vanish for a day or two and then resurface, shadows in his eyes and rescued kids in tow.

“Get Frazer to do it. He deserves it.”

Jack’s voice interrupted his musings and, as usual, what he said made sense. Frazer had picked up the threads that Jack had handed him and done an amazing job following where they led while Jack was tangled up chasing pimps and comforting children. Gareth had already authorized a hefty bonus, despite the uproar in the rest of the company.

Gareth leaned his head back, glad for a few moments of quiet. He approved of Jack’s hiding place, liked the way the breeze stirred his hair and a barely discernible hint of brine diluted the scent of tar and exhaust fumes in the air. Even the noise of the nonstop traffic was muted up here. And thoughts of betrayal stung much less.

“Come on, boss,” Jack wheedled as he finished his coffee. “All that upper level management crap isn’t me.”

Gareth turned his head and waited until he had Jack’s full attention. “I want you to put the fear of God into them.”

“And again… much more your style than mine,” Jack began—and his eyes widened. “Shit! You think—”

Gareth swallowed the rest of Jack’s words in a bruising kiss, and Jack came along for the ride. He tasted of the coffee he’d just drunk, bitter and sweet, and Gareth could think of nothing better than to stay right there on the roof for the rest of the day, his tongue tangling with Jack’s. His hand dropped down to cover Jack’s crotch, and he squeezed once before starting to tap a strange broken rhythm across Jack’s groin that had Jack fully hard in a breath and a heartbeat.

Jack wove his hands into Gareth’s hair, and his body arched in search of more contact, but Gareth turned the kiss slow and sweet and undemanding. He wasn’t going to send Jack into a board meeting looking as if he’d just rolled out of bed without getting any sleep. Ravished Jack—all kiss-swollen lips, flushed cheeks, and pupils blown black—was for his eyes only.

He stopped dancing his fingers across the black denim and cupped Jack’s face instead. A mere brush of lips now, soft and promising, and Jack’s eyes closed in resignation.

“Who?” he asked promptly when Gareth released him.

“Cecily Nancarrow and Graham Halston.”

“Nonexecs, minor shareholders, one a second cousin to Julian, the other a consulting mining engineer,” Jack rattled off, voice thoughtful.

“Cecily Nancarrow thinks she has power. Rather stupid if you ask me,” Gareth passed judgment. “She’s having a fling with Halston and might be trying to convince him to support Donovan in the next takeover bid.”

“Would he make a good CEO?”

“No idea. Never met the man. Aidan thinks not.”

“And Alex?”

Gareth blinked, surprised yet again. He really should have learned by now.

Jack pushed himself upright. “Frazer deserves a bonus,” he said as he moved to the trap door at the far end of the roof.

“Already done.”

O
NLY
G
ORISH
’
S
seat remained empty at the long boardroom table when Jack was shown into the room. After the discussion on the roof, he had taken the time to make sure he looked the part Gareth wanted him to play, and Gareth had a hard time not drooling.