Trusting Jack (MC Securities Book 1) Read online

  Noah’s family were wonderful. Accepting, supportive, friendly. He was so lucky. Noah was in his last year at Uni and worked shifts in the bar to pay off his student loan. He could imagine Christmas with Noah’s family would be picture perfect. He’d really like to spend it with Michael, but the chances of that happening were about nil. Less than nil.

  He smiled at Noah and nudged his shoulder with his own. “Thanks. You’re an angel.”

  It got to one o’clock and things started winding down, so Jack was optimistic that he would be able to get off before long. He wiped the bar down and stacked the glasses in the dishwasher, tipped the bottles into the skips, and then set off to collect more while Noah cleaned up the rest of bar area. He danced around the remaining customers, shimmied a little on the dance floor with a hand full of glasses and avoided a grope from an over-enthusiastic punter. He stacked them on the corner of the bar, but before he could go for more he was grabbed from behind and lifted off his feet.

  “Whoa,’ he said, laughing and wriggling, but whoever had hold of him tightened his grip until it was hard to breathe. He pushed at the beefy arms encircling him but all he got was a hard cock ground into his arse.

  “That’s enough,” he snapped, squirming around to see who the hell had hold of him.

  “Not so brave now, are we?”

  It was like being drenched with a bucket of ice water. Jack was instantly cold all over.

  “Bryce, get the fuck of me. Now.” He struggled in earnest knowing that Kev and Noah wouldn’t be far away, but being pinned by the slimy bastard was turning his stomach. He didn’t want to create a scene in the bar, but he could feel panic rising.

  “Or what?” Bryce leaned close and then ran the flat of his tongue up his neck to his ear. He freaked and slammed his heels into Bryce’s shins, but trainers didn’t really make much impact. Bryce just shifted and laughed, but then made a strange, pained noise and immediately let go. He dropped to his feet and pulled away from him to find Michael holding the man in an excruciating-looking headlock. It looked like he would break his neck if he moved, and from the fear in Bryce’s face the man believed that too. Michael’s face was cold and emotionless. Kev came bounding across the bar and touched Michael on the shoulder. “I’ve got it,” he said and grabbed Bryce by the elbow. When Michael didn’t release him immediately, he waited. Eventually Michael let go and Kev bundled Bryce out of the door.

  Noah dashed over and pulled Jack into a hug. “My God, are you okay?” Jack hugged him back and then pulled away. “I’m fine. I’m fine.” He hated that his voice was shaky. He turned to Michael and tried to smile. “This is Noah. We work together.”

  Noah looked at Michael and his eyes widened. “Hello,” he said, smiling.

  Michael didn’t smile back.

  “Um, this is Michael Cross, my boss. Other boss.”

  Noah stuck out a hand and Michael gave it a short shake.

  “Are you okay?” Kev said, as he came back to the bar.

  “Fine, fine, he just rattled me.”

  “Do you know him? I don’t think I’ve seen him before.” Kev looked at Noah, who shook his head and shrugged.

  “I’ve met him a couple of times. It’s nothing. Really.”

  “I don’t think we’ve met?” Kev said, holding out his hand to Michael. “Kevin Donahugh. I’m the manager here. Thanks for stepping in.”

  Michael looked at the hand for a second and then took it and shook. “Michael Cross.”

  “Well, Michael Cross, I’m very glad you were here. Do you two know each other?” He looked between Jack and Michael.

  “We do.” To Jack’s complete surprise, Michael moved closer to him. Almost touching him.

  Kev’s smile didn’t waver, but Jack could see the curiosity in his eyes.

  “Are you ready to go?” Michael said.

  “I’m not finished yet…”

  “It’s fine, you get off,” Kev said clapping him on the shoulder again. “Are you taking him home? Don’t really want him bumping into that idiot again.”

  “I’m taking him home.”

  Jack and Noah were now staring at them both with undisguised interest at Michael’s possessive stance. Michael appeared oblivious, but Jack knew he wasn’t. If he hadn’t known better, he would have said Michael was jealous of Kev and Noah. He looked at him again, but there was nothing now to suggest that he was.

  “I’ll go change,” he said, and fled.

  When he got back to the bar Michael was sipping from a tall glass, it looked like lemonade, chatting to Kev, and Noah was polishing the glasses. It all looked very civilised. He breathed a tentative sigh of relief.

  “Ready.” Michael took a last drink and then put the glass on the bar. He shook hands with Kev again and walked with Jack to the door.

  “I didn’t expect to see you in here.” Jack glanced at him as they stepped out into the cold.

  “It’s as well I came.”

  “Yeah, thanks for that. I don’t know what the hell he was doing in the bar, I’ve never seen him in there before.”

  Michael didn’t respond. He tucked his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket and walked. Jack mirrored him and did the same. The car wasn’t far, and after they got in Michael turned to him.

  “Is it Bryce you owe the money to?”

  Jack laughed a sad-sounding laugh. “No. Bryce is just the muscle.”

  “So, who do you owe the money to?”

  “I shouldn’t say.” Jack felt a massive wave of fear roll through him. “I don’t want to put you in any danger, though he might have joined the dots now and worked out that you were the one that got the better of him in the flat.” Jack felt sick at the thought of Michael being in any way connected to the abysmal mess that was his life.

  Michael gave him a long look, then switched on the engine and pulled away. “Maybe we can talk later.”

  Chapter Seven

  Jack stood motionless in the shower and let water pour over him to wash the night from his body. When he felt fit to move, he scrubbed his face to get rid of the eyeliner. He knew he was only delaying the inevitable; Michael would want to know more, and if he was going to lend him the money it was only fair. He just didn’t want Michael mixed up in the mess. Michael was everything that was good. He couldn’t bear it if he became tainted by his shitty life. But then, Michael had bested Bryce twice now, and Michael probably needed to know what he was dealing with because if it became more than just Bryce…

  He towelled off, pulled on his pyjamas, took a deep breath, and headed for the lounge, wondering if he was better off paying like he had been doing. The problem was, if he had to pay rent, he couldn’t make the payments at the rate he wanted to, and he couldn’t imagine Michael letting him go back to how he was living before. Nor could he sponge of Michael, so maybe a loan was the best bet. Christ, why was everything so damned complicated?

  Michael was sitting on the sofa nursing a mug of coffee. There was tea on the coffee table for him.

  Jack sat beside him and let his leg flop against Michael’s knee. “You want explanations, don’t you.” It wasn’t really a question.

  “I’m worried.” Michael flinched a little when their bodies made contact, but he didn’t move. “I want to help, but I need to know what you’re involved in. I need to know what I’m getting involved with.”

  Jack fiddled with the edge of his pyjama top. “I know, and I can’t tell you how much that means to me. You’ve done so much, and I want to tell you everything.” Jack laughed a little, but it was a sad sound. “I want nothing more than to pour my heart out about what’s happened, but if I do that, I will drag you into my seedy little world and I don’t want to do it to you.” He curled one leg under him and rubbed the back of his neck. He was aching to talk, aching to be held, just tired and aching.

  Michael shifted on the sofa so that he could face Jack. “I know you think I’m a bit soft, but I really can look after myself, you know.”

  Jack laughed again, that s
ame sad sound. “I don’t think you’re soft, you silly sod, I’ve seen what you can do, but this is much bigger than you can even imagine, and I like you too much to risk having you hurt or pulled into it all.” He looked up at Michael and then back at his hands. “I wish I was brave enough to say I don’t want to stay here. That I don’t want your money or your help.” He fidgeted and kept looking down when he felt his eyes fill. “But I’m not.” He hated that his voice wobbled.

  “Maybe just give me a name?”

  Jack hesitated until he got his emotions under control. He blinked and rubbed his face hard. “McCafferty.”

  Michael frowned. “Daniel McCafferty?”

  “You know him?” Jack’s voice went up several octaves. He cleared his throat. How the hell would Michael know someone like McCafferty?

  “Sort of…” Michael bit his lip and gave him an unreadable look.

  Jack closed his eyes. “He isn’t a good man to cross. That’s why I have been living rough to pay him off. I believe Bryce when he says I’d be wearing my balls as earrings if I didn’t.” Jack recalled the meeting with Bryce and shuddered. He had never been so terrified in his life and coming so soon after losing Nathan it had been…well. He’d been alone most of his life, but never quite felt it so keenly until that point. Even when he hadn’t been around, Nathan was always there, the only real constant in his life for so long.

  But then he was gone. Just like that. He’d never hear his laugh again, never feel him hug him again.

  A jagged pain had set up in his chest after Nathan died. Mostly it lurked quietly in the background, but sometimes it struck hard catching him unawares and taking him to his knees.

  It struck. Hard.

  Jack curled up and pinched the bridge of his nose, willing the pain to subside, forcing himself to breathe through it until he could get a hold of himself as he’d learned to do. He almost had it, but Michael touched him.

  “Hey,” Michael said softly, and rubbed gentle circles over his back. The comfort undid him completely, and the tears he had managed to hold at bay for so damned long leaked out silently. He felt Michael hesitate, and then pull him into his arms. Jack wished he could unlock his own arms and hug him back, but he seemed to be frozen in a ball that wouldn’t move. So, Michael gathered him up, arms and legs and all, and held him while he wept. He hadn’t cried at all since Nathan died, not even at the funeral, not even when Bryce had corned him, beaten the shit out of him, and taken everything. But now, safe in Michael’s arms, he was unable to hold on to it any longer.

  He had no idea how long Michael held him, or how the box of tissues materialised by his side, but gradually the tears subsided, leaving him exhausted and weak. Michael just carried on stroking his back and holding him. They stayed that way for a long time.

  It felt as though Michael kissed the top of his head, but Jack couldn’t be sure. He didn’t want to move.

  “We should get some rest,” Michael said.

  Jack nodded. He supposed he’d have to move eventually. He heaved a sigh and sat up. He scrubbed at his face, looking around for the pillow and duvet.

  Michael took hold of his hand. “Sleep with me?”

  Jack turned to look at him, certain he’d misheard. “What?”

  “Sleep with me.”

  Jack blew his nose again, flushed the toilet, and washed his hands before padding down the corridor to Michael’s bedroom. He was utterly drained. It felt like someone had pulled the plug out on him and he was all soft and deflated. The offer of a real bed, a bed shared with Michael, almost made him cry again, but he pulled himself together. When he got to the room Michael was propped up, bare chested, looking at his tablet. He glanced up at him and put it on the nightstand and flung back the covers, inviting him in. Jack could see he was wearing a pair of black briefs, so he wasn’t completely naked. He felt ridiculously overdressed in his pyjamas, but taking them off felt like an invitation he wasn’t sure he was in any fit state to make. He crawled in, lay on his back, pulled the duvet up to his chin, and waited for the interrogation feeling too weak, too empty to protest. Whatever Michael wanted to know he would tell him. The bed dipped as Michael moved, but it was only to turn off the light. That was fine, it was easier to talk in the dark. When he didn’t talk, Jack wondered if perhaps he wanted sex. He glanced at him. He wasn’t sure he had the energy. He waited for Michael to make the first move.

  “Roll over.” Jack felt Michael push at his shoulder, so he moved onto his side facing away from him and waited. He could do this. He could do it for Michael. He was shocked beyond words when Michael curled around him spoon style, wrapping a strong arm around his middle.

  “Sleep. We can talk tomorrow.”

  Jack almost cried again. He didn’t want sex, and he didn’t want to make him talk. He was just holding him. Just holding him tight in exactly the way he needed, in exactly the way he’d never been able to ask for.

  He put his hand over Michael’s and squeezed and he was sure that he felt him drop a kiss between his shoulders.

  Jack woke up hugging Michael’s pillow with Michael’s scent in his nose, and Michael in his dreams. He groaned, buried his face deeper, and rubbed his aching morning erection into the bed. A cough dragged him into the present and when he pulled his head up to find Michael looming over him, fully dressed, he was sure he blushed.

  “Morning,” he croaked, rubbing his eyes.

  “Morning. It’s time to get up and get to work.”

  “Work?”

  “Yeah, you remember the stuff I pay you to do?”

  “Oh, work. Yes, I …ah…” He was conscious of his erection, so he waited for Michael to move, but he didn’t. Jack sat up, keeping the duvet over his lap but Michael just stood there. He wanted to get out of the bed and flaunt, and yesterday he would have done, but Michael had held him all night and asked for nothing in return. Just held him with no strings attached. Nothing. He was fairly certain Michael wanted him, but it seemed…wrong now to push it. It was a funny feeling and not one he had ever felt before.

  Michael watched him a moment longer before he spoke. “I’ll sort breakfast.”

  “Thanks.” Jack’s voice was high-pitched. Again. He cleared his throat. “That would be lovely.”

  Michael nodded and left. Jack flopped back on the pillows for a moment before heading for the shower, wishing it could wash away all that was rotten in his life and make him fresh and new. Make him good enough for someone like Michael.

  Jack found Michael in the kitchen buttering a pile of toast. When Jack sat down, he took a dish from the oven filled with bacon and put it between them. Jack’s mouth watered. They sat in silence constructing bacon sandwiches and devouring them. They were almost unbearably delicious. Jack licked the butter, grease, and ketchup from his fingers and then took a drink of his tea.

  “Thank you. Again.”

  Michael just nodded and gathered up the empty plates. He hesitated before taking them to the dishwasher. “We need to talk, but not now. Tonight?”

  Jack looked at his hands. “That’s fine.”

  Michael stacked the dishes. “Are you working tonight?”

  Jack shook his head. He actually had a night off. “I’m free tonight.”

  “Well, let’s go out.” Michael fiddled with the dishwasher and didn’t look at him.

  Jack stared at him, shocked. “Out where?”

  Michael shrugged. “For dinner?”

  Jack opened his mouth and shut it. It sounded a bit like a…date? “Sounds good to me.” He couldn’t remember when he’d last eaten out. Date or not.

  “I’ll book us a table. Is there anywhere you like?”

  Jack shrugged. “Nowhere in particular. Anywhere would be fine.”

  “What do you like? Italian? Chinese?”

  Jack grinned. “Italian. I love Italian.”

  “I know a good place. I’ll see if I can get us a table.”

  “That’s…lovely.” Jack bit his lip. He really couldn’t get used to this kin
d of care. It was temporary. He needed to remember that.

  Once the table and everything was cleared, they set off to the office. It was early enough that no-one would be in, so no-one would realise that he was staying with Michael. It had become terribly important that he protect Michael from any kind of gossip from the team, and he wanted to make absolutely certain that they didn’t guess what was going on. Not that anything was going on, but people talked and jumped to conclusions.

  Once inside, he sat at his desk, picked up the first of his tasks, and got his head down.

  Chapter Eight

  They took their seats in the Italian restaurant, and Jack looked around, excitement clear in his eyes. They were tucked away at a quiet table and the whole place was way more intimate than Michael remembered, but oddly, that didn’t bother him. They were surrounded by soft music and the familiar warm smell of baking dough.

  They faced each other. A candle burned on the table, casting flickering light over the planes of Jack’s face, making those grey eyes sparkle and Michael’s chest flutter.

  “Is this okay?”

  Jack grinned, making his eyes sparkle even more. “It’s lovely. Do you come here a lot?”

  “Not a lot, but it’s always good when I do.”

  Jack looked as though he was going to say something else, but the waiter appeared and handed them menus, so Michael buried his head in his before Jack asked any more questions, probably about dating, and he would have to reveal his complete lack of a social, or personal, or sex life.

  He glanced at Jack who had put his menu down. He’d expected him to need plenty of time to choose. He hadn’t even glanced at the specials board. “Do you know what you want?”

  “Pepperoni pizza please.”

  Michael smiled. “I bring you to one of the best Italian restaurants in Manchester, and you want pizza?”

  Jack flushed and looked down at the table. Lines of tension bracketed eyes that had been smiling and happy and Michael wanted to kick himself. This was why he didn’t damn well date. He was absolutely crap at it.