clamped his teeth together.
“I wish I could kill whoever did that to you.”
“Too late,” Jack said, voice very soft. “My mother’s been dead for years.”
Time froze, traffic lights winked, and Gareth stared through the windshield as if he’d seen a ghost. Jack thought of castles, of walls and battlements and moats, and the idea of anything being able to shock Gareth Flynn into immobility lightened his mood with a tint of amusement.
“Green, Gareth,” he said, just as the car behind them suggested that they should do more than block the middle of the road.
“She sold me to her pimp one day, when she needed a fix,” Jack continued his story once they were underway again. “I didn’t like the idea, so I ran away.” It wasn’t that simple. It had never been that simple. But Jack felt too comfortable there in the dark, with the car’s warmth and Gareth’s scent surrounding him, to step back into that cold and scary place.
“How old were you?”
“’Leven, I think.”
Gareth didn’t comment, but even over the sound of the engine, Jack heard him grind his teeth. The fury expressed on his behalf warmed Jack’s mind and drew him another step closer to letting the events of the night slide away.
“I had nothing to do with her death,” he added as Gareth pulled the Ranger into a parking space across the road from his house, feeling that it might be beneficial to clarify that fact. Especially after his outburst earlier.
“Didn’t think you had.” Gareth turned the engine off and got out of the car.
Jack followed suit, confused when Gareth blipped the locks and started to move toward Jack’s home. “Gareth?”
“You want me to leave you alone without making sure you’re okay? Think again.” Gareth stopped in the middle of the road, waiting until Jack joined him. The frown on his face was impressive but nothing Jack hadn’t seen before.
“Mother-henning doesn’t suit you, Gareth. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine ,” Gareth shot back and reached for Jack, peering closely at his face. “Look at yourself! You’re shaking with excess adrenaline. You may have a broken rib needing taping. And when was the last time you ate something?”
That question caught Jack out. He actually had to think about it. “Lunch, with you,” he decided in the end, the defiance in his tone dying a swift death.
“Jesus!” Gareth shook his head and gripped Jack’s elbow a little more firmly. “I’m sure it helps you pull off that look, but I’d rather you didn’t starve yourself to death just for the sake of catching pimps.”
“It’s not that,” Jack disagreed. “Stress makes me sick.” He flushed crimson admitting as much, and Gareth snorted.
“I really should have remembered that.”
“Yeah… because you force-feeding me on that Welsh exercise worked so well.”
“It got you home.”
“I would have got home anyway.”
“Says you,” Gareth said and handed Jack his front door key. When and how Gareth had taken possession of it, Jack had no idea. And that told him a lot.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he submitted and reached to unlock the door.
B ESTING J ACK ’ S quick mind in an argument was not easy, so Gareth was grateful when Jack stopped fighting. It got them off the street and inside the house. It had worried him that Jack didn’t seem to notice how badly he was shivering. But after hearing that Jack had consumed nothing but whisky, water, and chemicals since Wednesday lunchtime when it was now very early Friday morning, Gareth wasn’t too surprised.
He slipped out of his shoes and watched as Jack sank down on the large solid oak blanket box that took up the space below the mirror. He yanked on his boots to remove them, but the leather was stiff, and the angle was awkward. Gareth took pity when Jack started swearing. He reached over and pulled on the heel until he held Jack’s right boot in his hand.
“That your idea of going armed?” He pointed to the
“I wish I could kill whoever did that to you.”
“Too late,” Jack said, voice very soft. “My mother’s been dead for years.”
Time froze, traffic lights winked, and Gareth stared through the windshield as if he’d seen a ghost. Jack thought of castles, of walls and battlements and moats, and the idea of anything being able to shock Gareth Flynn into immobility lightened his mood with a tint of amusement.
“Green, Gareth,” he said, just as the car behind them suggested that they should do more than block the middle of the road.
“She sold me to her pimp one day, when she needed a fix,” Jack continued his story once they were underway again. “I didn’t like the idea, so I ran away.” It wasn’t that simple. It had never been that simple. But Jack felt too comfortable there in the dark, with the car’s warmth and Gareth’s scent surrounding him, to step back into that cold and scary place.
“How old were you?”
“’Leven, I think.”
Gareth didn’t comment, but even over the sound of the engine, Jack heard him grind his teeth. The fury expressed on his behalf warmed Jack’s mind and drew him another step closer to letting the events of the night slide away.
“I had nothing to do with her death,” he added as Gareth pulled the Ranger into a parking space across the road from his house, feeling that it might be beneficial to clarify that fact. Especially after his outburst earlier.
“Didn’t think you had.” Gareth turned the engine off and got out of the car.
Jack followed suit, confused when Gareth blipped the locks and started to move toward Jack’s home. “Gareth?”
“You want me to leave you alone without making sure you’re okay? Think again.” Gareth stopped in the middle of the road, waiting until Jack joined him. The frown on his face was impressive but nothing Jack hadn’t seen before.
“Mother-henning doesn’t suit you, Gareth. I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine ,” Gareth shot back and reached for Jack, peering closely at his face. “Look at yourself! You’re shaking with excess adrenaline. You may have a broken rib needing taping. And when was the last time you ate something?”
That question caught Jack out. He actually had to think about it. “Lunch, with you,” he decided in the end, the defiance in his tone dying a swift death.
“Jesus!” Gareth shook his head and gripped Jack’s elbow a little more firmly. “I’m sure it helps you pull off that look, but I’d rather you didn’t starve yourself to death just for the sake of catching pimps.”
“It’s not that,” Jack disagreed. “Stress makes me sick.” He flushed crimson admitting as much, and Gareth snorted.
“I really should have remembered that.”
“Yeah… because you force-feeding me on that Welsh exercise worked so well.”
“It got you home.”
“I would have got home anyway.”
“Says you,” Gareth said and handed Jack his front door key. When and how Gareth had taken possession of it, Jack had no idea. And that told him a lot.
“Fine. Have it your way,” he submitted and reached to unlock the door.
B ESTING J ACK ’ S quick mind in an argument was not easy, so Gareth was grateful when Jack stopped fighting. It got them off the street and inside the house. It had worried him that Jack didn’t seem to notice how badly he was shivering. But after hearing that Jack had consumed nothing but whisky, water, and chemicals since Wednesday lunchtime when it was now very early Friday morning, Gareth wasn’t too surprised.
He slipped out of his shoes and watched as Jack sank down on the large solid oak blanket box that took up the space below the mirror. He yanked on his boots to remove them, but the leather was stiff, and the angle was awkward. Gareth took pity when Jack started swearing. He reached over and pulled on the heel until he held Jack’s right boot in his hand.
“That your idea of going armed?” He pointed to the
Similar Books
