A Shot In Darkness y4010

A Shot in Darkness (Vasquez Inc 7) Lou Sylvre

All rights reserved. Copyright ©2021 Lou Sylvre

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Publisher: Changeling Press LLC 315 N. Centre St. Martinsburg, WV 25404 www.ChangelingPress.com

Editor: Treva Harte Cover Artist: Bryan Keller

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Table of Contents A Shot in Darkness (Vasquez Inc 7) Prologue Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six Chapter Seven Chapter Eight Epilogue Dedication and Acknowledgment Lou Sylvre

A Shot in Darkness (Vasquez Inc 7)

Lou Sylvre

A Scotland honeymoon promises joy for a Dom and his sub, but a criminal’s revenge may prove deadly.

Sure the danger that dogged their steps in Los Angeles has finally ed, Brian and Jackie seal their hopes for a new beginning with a New Year’s Eve kiss. Though Brian’s trauma at the hands of criminals has left its mark, they do their best to leave troubles behind and enjoy a Scotland honeymoon. The ancient city of Glasgow offers nightlife, historic sites, long walks through snowfall, great Scotch whisky, a cozy fireside -- and a blazing hot private encounter with a cool, cool ghost.

But every time somebody wins, someone else loses. When Brian helped State Department cop Jesse Douglas take down a crime ring, a rogue FBI agent lost everything. She blames Brian, and with the help of false identities and very good skills at disguise, tracking him and Jackie down in Scotland poses no problem. When a final encounter in the Highlands turns deadly, the key to keeping Brian alive lies in Jackie’s hands. With everything he loves at stake, can he call up love, courage and confidence in time to take that single, vital shot in darkness?

“Real things in the darkness seem no realer than dreams.” - Murasaki Shikibu, The Tale of Genji

“Strength does not come from physical capacity. It comes from an indomitable

will.” - Mahatma Gandhi

Prologue Los Angeles, California; December 30

The .22 caliber bullet that had lodged near Brian’s kidney was gone. A small bit of copper alloy, it had almost slain him before he even realized it was there. Now only a small surgical scar remained as outward proof he’d been shot. The blood he’d lost had been replaced, his torn inner flesh was stitched and on the mend, and the fever he’d developed almost instantly had disappeared a day ago. After three days, he was more than ready to walk out of the hospital, but not in handcuffs with a police escort. So when attorney Rich Miller stood in the open door shaking hands with the US Marshal who’d been guarding his room, Brian practically held his breath. The Marshal walked away from the door and nobody replaced him, and Miller turned to Brian with a slightly snide-looking smile. “Charges dropped?” Brian asked. “No charges filed.” Miller poured Brian a cup of ice water from the pitcher on the tray table, probably to give him a moment to breathe. “You’re twice lucky, Mr. Harrison. You’ve got some friends in medium-high places -- or at least one, Jesse Douglas -- and then the various law enforcement agencies have their own corruption to deal with.” Brian had to snicker. “That’s putting it mildly. Were there actually judges involved -- revoking the warrants and all?” “I don’t know, honestly, and with you free, it’s unlikely the public will ever know, unless some watchdog agency gets a sniff of the mess. We pointed out to people at the departments involved how your court case would entail a whole lot of investigation, and of course there’s a lot to be said for discovery and disclosure in a case like this. Ultimately all agreed it would be best not to go forward with charges.” Brian nodded, and then shook his head, which meant something more like “fuck,

that’s a relief” than “no.” “Thank you,” he said. Miller nodded and smiled less snidely. “The custody hold is removed, and you’re free to go as soon as you’ve got your medical walking papers.” He turned to go, but turned back. “Oh, by the way, the State Department has your medical bills covered for this… fiasco.” He opened the door, walked out, and left it open. Even though Brian treasured privacy in general, that open door felt nice, and in momentary high spirits, he smiled. But as soon as the first flush of relief at his release from custody ed, he sobered. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, careful not to make any jarring movements. He might be on the mend, but his body was still tender in a number of places. After making sure his ass was covered -- literally -- he took the single step needed to get to the broad window overlooking miles of pavement, cars, and buildings. It would almost be easy to forget that what I’m looking at is a hive of people. More than seven million of them in this metropolis, so many of them hurting in one way or another. But humans seem unimportant, even invisible, when all you can see is bricks and metal and asphalt. He didn’t wonder why his thoughts had taken that melancholy turn. He had a lot to think about. The mess he’d just survived had been about money, on the one hand. Greed as god -- the most common religion in the world as far as he could see. But the shine of riches only hid the true ugliness. Human trafficking. Real people caught in a web, stolen, sold, enslaved. Like Jackie’s friend Esi and her young sister. She’d written to him, perhaps with Dr. Holland’s help, to thank him for his part in freeing them and the few others who’d been rescued. But what of all the others? He didn’t bother himself with any deep thoughts about Vintner and Lieb and their lot. They were criminals. They’d probably go to prison -- at least for a while -- and that was how it should go. What honestly hadn’t come out right -even though it was partially responsible for his freedom -- was about the cops and agents and maybe even judges who’d been involved. The horror of the

criminal scheme, from Brian’s viewpoint, didn’t hang on theft, or even the corruption itself, as bad as that was. The people, the victims, that’s what made these crimes unspeakably ugly. And crooked cops and at least one federal agent, and maybe a judge or two had all helped make it happen, presumably for a share of the take. And now -- what? Apparently, officialdom could ignore those crimes and call it justice. “But,” he said aloud to the city outside his empty room, “there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.” Except tell the story. Let it be known. Someday. Somehow. Maybe. Safely? A flurry of activity behind him alerted him that he was no longer alone. He turned, expecting a nurse, but found a strange, youngish woman with almostburgundy dyed hair standing just inside his door, staring as if assessing him. “Are you Brian Harrison?” “Uh… Who wants to know?” At that, her all-business expression broke into a smile. “I’m sorry.” She dropped something into the huge bag she carried to free up a hand and held it out as if for a shake. “I’m Dierdre White, from KRTA News. I see the cop’s gone from your door, and I’m hoping that means you’re open for an interview.”

Chapter One Mojave Desert; December 30

Alexandra had made her way out of Los Angeles the same night Vintner’s operation went down. It had been a week since, and she still couldn’t decide if Farnsworth had been unable to catch her or had let her go -- for old time’s sake. They’d once been lovers, and more than that, partnered agents. FBI. They’d had each other’s backs, and they’d traded sweat in the night. Those bonds didn’t break easily. But Farnsworth was the best agent she’d ever known… and she, Alexandra Heylens, had gone rogue. She was sorry, but she was still rogue. She often wished that after the agency she’d given fifteen years of dedicated service to had betrayed her, she’d simply walked quietly away. But… she was still rogue. And no amount of wishing would change what she had done instead: vowed revenge and ventured too far into darkness in an effort to get it. Vintner. Another mistake. She’d tied her fate to his, gone all in. It would have been vengeance -- not perfect, but enough, with a big payoff. She would have used the cash to trade in her crazy life for an easy one, made herself untouchable and gloated in her success. She’d stood in the shadow of that Danish asshole, acted as his secret weapon. Protected him from threats, guarded his “merchandise,” removed every obstacle. She knew he might flake, but she also knew she could handle him. And Lieb, his partner-slash-minion who provided him with s and services, was laughable as a threat to her. She’d worried some when Vintner dropped veiled threats about someone he called “Blackjack,” but she’d figured she was as much a badass as most strongarms out there -- especially with a gun in her hand, and she had one most of the time.

But she’d never guessed Blackjack was David Farnsworth. She hadn’t found that out until everything was already going wrong. Even then, she hadn’t known if he was undercover for the FBI, or if maybe he’d gone rogue too. But when she saw him rescuing that snitch Harrison, she figured he was on the side of the law. She ran then, but with little hope. It felt like a miracle when she made it out of the tunnels alive. Or a gift, maybe. Because if Farns had wanted to catch her, he would have, one way or another. Still, though Vintner should have been her greatest success, and even though she’d done what she could to protect herself, his failure had been spectacular enough to blow all her plans right off the road. Her campaign for ultimate revenge was stalled, but she wouldn’t let go. She’d get there -- she’d started down that path years ago, and though stops along the way -- planned and unplanned -- may have been added, she could only keep going forward. Couldn’t turn around, left, or right, couldn’t even change lanes. Her road to vengeance was a rut, but she’d dug it for herself. Once she got moving again, she’d kick it up a notch. She’d accepted that she might not live long. If she got caught, if she didn’t get killed in the process, she’d end it herself. She’d added a new target to her list of those who would taste her revenge. The man most responsible for her present circumstances. The one who masterminded Vintner’s fall -- and consequently her own -- and with that addition, her revenge list had become a “kill” list, because for him, she wouldn’t settle for less. Truly alone now, she’d holed up in a Mojave Desert adobe so long abandoned she could watch the stars overhead move across heaven as she lay on her blankets by the living room hearth. She didn’t mind. Rain was unlikely, and she had a sleeping bag, an old woven rug she’d whacked the dust out of, and some thermal wear. It kept the hard cold of the winter desert at bay. She’d never really liked the desert, mostly because she hated snakes. But now, she wasn’t even worried about that. She’d checked for rattler dens nearby and found none. And on frigid nights, cold-blooded serpents tended to stay home. She was worried about what she was going to do next, though. She had enough food for a couple more days, but she couldn’t stay there indefinitely. There was a town not too far away, if one could call Amboy a town. She had a Ninja parked in the brush out back, with enough gas to get her there. She could pick up

supplies at Roy’s if it was safe to do so. But was it? She had no news source, the only tech she had being a single burner phone she’d never yet used, but she’d designated it for that one call she really needed to make. When she’d set it aside for that purpose, she didn’t know what that need might be, but now she did. She had to find out how hot she was, whether it would be safe for her to make a move. She’d racked her brain trying to think of various alternatives, but she’d drawn all blanks except for one probably dangerous idea. Call Farnsworth. He picked up almost immediately, and she told him what she needed. After a heavy silence, he agreed, “But I don’t like this, Alex. And I won’t help you again.” Alexandra said nothing for a minute, seething quietly. Had he forgotten what she’d done for him? Had he forgotten…”Farns, I still know what I know about you. Never told a soul.” She heard Farnsworth strike a light and inhale deeply. He blew out the smoke, creating the sound of wind over the phone, but he said nothing. “Never told a soul,” she said again, and added, “yet.” He chuckled. “I’m going to help you, Alex. But you’ve reached the limit. Threatening me is… unwise.” The call ended, which was no more or less than Alexandra expected. She appreciated his help at this juncture -- she needed someone to be there for her, and lord knew she couldn’t count on anyone else. Especially not her family, who had been only too willing to betray her before. The last time she’d spoken to her father, he’d taken about twenty seconds from his golf game to tell her not to call again.”Dead to us,” he’d said. Alex and Farns understood each other. When she’d made the choice to cover the criminal tracks of a desperate agent who’d ended up dead, when she’d decided the man’s family shouldn’t lose everything because of his rash choices, he’d

stuck by her. Maybe because they were partners. Maybe because they were lovers. But most likely because she knew what Farns had done when he’d been the reckless one. Life was tough on FBI agents; not uncommon for the pressure to get to a person. Even a staunch lawman like Farnsworth. He told a lie on her behalf, protecting her. She kept a truth to herself, protecting him. She’d kept that silence even under interrogation. The Bureau couldn’t prove anything against either of them, but they knew. And they’d punished her for it, demoting her and giving her the shittiest assignment they could find. She’d lost her position, her pay grade, and somehow in the shuffle, she’d lost Farnsworth’s regard too. But she’d promised to stay silent about his transgressions, and she’d proven that she could and would. Still, he had to know that she could still use that information as a bargaining point. Would he throw away the safeguard of mutual silence? Hard to know, but if she played her cards right, they’d never have to test their friendship. She hoped so, because she didn’t have much faith that it would hold up. After all, they’d built it on shared deceit. Hardly a basis for trust. Well, her life for the last seven years had been one mistake after another, each next worse than the last. So now she was rogue, wanted, and fugitive, with no resources she could call on but one. Farnsworth. Trust she must.

* * * Oak Flats, Nebraska; December 31

To most people, it might not seem possible that a month could go by while a newlywed couple hardly spoke to each other. But as Jackie sat in his great-uncle Kaholo’s Nebraska living room staring out the bay window while, outside,

December shed snow all over its last abbreviated afternoon, he reflected that this was exactly what had happened to Brian and him. That truth didn’t surprise him in the least. The last crazy weeks had only been a continuation of the chaos that had started long before their wedding. The events they’d begun by calling “the Espen case” and ended up calling “the mess with that asshole Vintner” had started weaving its sticky web in and around Jackie and Brian’s lives almost a full year earlier. The day Brian walked into Vasquez Security, Incorporated’s Los Angeles office to take on the role of branch manager, he’d walked into the first ropy but invisible strands of disaster. If only Brian had known what was to come, maybe he would have turned back around and walked out. No. He wouldn’t have. Jackie almost laughed at the notion as soon as he thought it. Brian had been hired by Jackie’s uncle Luki, who owned the company, to do a job. He just wasn’t the kind of guy to renege on a commitment once he’d made it. Probably why he stayed with me. Yeah. Their love story hadn’t been a bed of roses either, even though Brian had a funny habit of bringing the fragrant blossoms home and sticking them all over their apartment in vases in an effort to romance Jackie, his chosen lover and submissive. And now… husband. He’d tried so hard to get Jackie to take his marriage proposal seriously, but Jackie had artfully dodged it for months. Perhaps that was understandable, in light of everything else that was going on. Jackie had relocated to Los Angeles to be with Brian, and the city’s devil Santa Ana winds -- and the memories and associations they held for a once-fragile Jackie -- had assaulted him from day one. LA had not been kind to him when he was a homeless teen, and it continued its mean tradition now, almost a decade later. He’d witnessed a kidnapping, and the same day had an accident that set him back on his heels physically and mentally, then as soon as he recovered, another one. And then an amputation. The months and months of disbelief and hurting and healing and grief that followed remained in Jackie’s memory a strange nightmare, as if the time then had been a living thing. And it hadn’t been an easy time for Brian either. But, even then, long before any

vows were said, Brian had certainly made a commitment to himself to be the lover, the Dom, the man Jackie could count on. And he had stayed, remained steady at Jackie’s side even when Jackie had tried to shut him out. He’d cried, he’d loved, he’d cajoled and comforted. He had failed, at times. In an odd twist, sometimes broken Jackie had led Brian out of darkness. But when Jackie’s chips were all in and he desperately needed a win, Brian had come through and played the best cards in his deck. He’d shown Jackie love, wrapped him in safe, careful knots, and set him flying in joy. ”Look,” he’d said. “You’re beautiful. I want you to see it. I want you to know.” Jackie had seen, and his love for Brian, already spreading wide, had grown deep roots that, he liked to think, helped them both hold steady when the shit started hitting the world’s biggest fan. The shit -- the detritus of the Espen-Lieb-Vintner disaster -- had been lying littered over their lives in Los Angeles. The Thanksgiving holiday break they’d taken in Colorado, complete with everything from a private night of fun kink, to a relaxed and joyful family dinner, was like fresh air. Maybe it made them a little high, because they got married while they were there. Cue the giant fan. The Colorado fairy tale ended, and the nightmare of the next few weeks began. Jackie hadn’t been with Brian -- first his new leg needed fixing, then he’d been taken into hiding for safety. But Brian had almost constantly faced imminent danger, and Jackie’d hardly slept. For weeks he’d worried, while Brian, on his own in LA, went undercover as an informer for the feds, at the same time pretending to work for Vintner, who could vie for the title of “nastiest piece of criminal shit Jackie had ever encountered.” Then came the day the tide of trouble had turned to crisis, when Brian had been taken off the streets at gunpoint to be Vintner’s “guest.” The police sting went all wrong, but that same day Vintner’s organization imploded. Shot point blank and carrying the bullet in his abdomen, Brian escaped through LA’s network of tunnels. While Jackie’s uncle Luki helped the law bring down Vintner aboveground, Brian had hung on to consciousness in the hidden corridors underground and somehow done what was in front of him to do -- bring a bad

man out of the tunnels to face justice and shepherd a remnant of Vintner’s trafficking victims to safety. That, Jackie thought, was courage. But that hadn’t been the worst of it for Jackie. Because an ambulance took Brian away -- in custody, as if he was the criminal, and Jackie waited for hours in what might have been the coldest, harshest surgical waiting room ever, at CountyUSC hospital. He got word that Brian was safe, out of surgery, recovering, and he breathed. But he couldn’t see him. Brian was in police custody -- a jail inmate. Jackie hadn’t cried then, nor when Sonny hugged him and took him “home” to a hotel room. He’d figured he was just too tired and burnt to cry, yet his wet pillow and sore eyes told him he’d cried in the night. As if he’d been keeping his tears secret even from himself. It would have been difficult -- impossible -- to pretend all that hadn’t happened. If he could have, though, he would have jumped at the chance. Now that it was all over but the shouting, as they say, it felt impossibly heavy. All of which was why tonight -- New Year’s Eve -- with its implied celebration of fresh starts, seemed like an extraordinary gift.

* * * Brian felt light on his feet, as if ten thousand pounds of atmospheric pressure had suddenly dissipated, as if Earth’s gravity had lessened by half, as if the tethers of his cares had been cut and they’d all flown away. He was on his way to Kaholo’s house, and his husband was waiting for him there. Too late for Christmas, but a brand-new year awaited. Tonight, they’d celebrate the ing of the old one, and what a thing to celebrate, for the year had cut him and everyone he loved cruelly at every turn. The love between himself and Jackie, the times they’d been together and raised love to new heights, the day they’d wed for better or worse -- those were the salvageable jewels from the months of worry and fear and even guilt. And as he prepared to see Jackie’s face again after almost a month apart, he held those gems up to the light of his mind and marveled at how they shone.

He was driving, though, and the weather was dismal, so even though he kept those bright memories aloft in his mind, he reserved most of his brain for the task of driving through windblown snowfall on a day being pulled down into the dark of night way too fast. When his plane had landed in Lincoln, the weather had been mostly clear with high clouds and a breeze. But the storm had booked age in advance, so everybody knew it was coming. Strangely, the rental car company was all too anxious to get him fixed up with a car to drive into a potential blizzard with. He got an all-wheel-drive Subaru only because he’d bitched more firmly than the only other customer in the store at the time. Also maybe because he didn’t smell like marijuana. Nothing wrong, he thought, with a person enjoying an occasional puff of skunk weed, but maybe right before you tried to rent a car wasn’t the time. He’d smiled in a friendly manner at the couple as he walked past them on his way to get the car, but they hadn’t smiled back. Maybe not getting the Subaru had ruined their high. He was sorry. A little bit. Mostly he was glad they weren’t out there negotiating this weather while high. It was plenty hard enough sober. Fortunately, the car handled well, had good brakes and windshield wipers, and everything seemed to be working right. Also fortunately for him, most people, even truckers, seemed to have decided this was not the time to be driving. It wasn’t a blizzard. Not yet. About an hour ago, he’d stopped at the McDonald’s in Broken Bow for a piss, a weird chicken sandwich, and a large cup of weak, but hot, coffee. While he was there he checked his phone for texts and ran across the only thing that had taken his mind off getting to Jackie since his plane landed -- a text from Dierdre White. She wanted him to call -- her story was coming together but he could possibly fill in some essential blanks, and didn’t he think the public had a right to know? The text pissed him off. Even with the tech know-how he had, he’d be unable to completely eliminate evidence of that text. She’d sworn to keep him anonymous if he decided to talk to her. He’d told her he’d her when and if he made that choice. He’d planned to use a phone he could toss, because the people who would flip out about the secrets going public might very well come looking for the guy who’d told. It wouldn’t bother him so much if he hadn’t decided that he wanted to do it. He

wasn’t ready yet, though. His new mantra was “no more secrets.” He wasn’t going to repeat the mistake of keeping things from the people he loved, and who loved and ed him regardless of his mistakes. Before he talked to Dierdre, he was going to clear it with Jackie and Luki. And he wasn’t going to respond to that text just to tell her that. She’d have to wait. He deleted the text and conversation, which would have to do for now. The SIM card would still have a record of it. He could replace that later, but he knew even that wouldn’t make it unrecoverable if someone wanted the info and knew what to do -- or who to hire. He breathed deep and tried to relax. Sometimes you’re a little too paranoid, Harrison. Comes from knowing things. Try to forget them. Nobody’s going to care about that text. That was true, and he had better things to do than fret about Dierdre White, so he got back in the car, and started on the last leg of his journey. If he could keep up his steady pace -- somewhere between a walk and a trot due to the weather -- another hour would get him to Oak Flats. A few miles farther down old, rutted roads and he’d be with Jackie. Hopefully he’d also be warm and dry, could change out of sweaty traveling clothes, and have a shot of J&B. If he got really lucky he could get a nap in before the sure-to-be understated New Year’s Eve celebration started to roll.

* * * Jackie smiled so hard it damn near hurt, and mostly, Brian was responsible for that. He’d brought a whole universe of relief and joy with him when he’d rolled into Kaholo’s yard at half past eight. He got waylaid by an enthusiastic Soldier before he got to the door, but once he made it in, his tired kiss had been honeysweet, and the hug he’d wrapped around Jackie, no less strong and safe for all his weariness. Luki had come out to help carry in luggage, and Sonny had loaded hot food onto a plate and sat with them at the table making small talk and bad jokes as Brian

ate and Marley constantly harassed him. Jackie was just hungry for the sight of Brian, so he’d sat next to him at the table, then perched on the closed john, waiting while he showered off road sweat -- the whole time dishing out boring tidbits of family gossip and watching his husband’s form through the frosted glass. “You know,” Brian had said as he toweled off, “I’ve been looking forward to a nap, and it’s not even ten yet. Want to go to bed with me for a while?” Brian’s arched eyebrows and the way he played his tongue over his teeth told Jackie that whereas he might want to sleep, that wasn’t all Brian had on his mind. Jackie’s cock twitched and grew an inch or so, and he wondered how he’d not been thinking about sex until right that moment. “Oh,” he said, a little breathless. “Yes.” Brian titled his head and narrowed his eyes as if puzzling over something. Jackie smiled. “Um. I mean, yes, Sir. Yellow and red.” Obviously satisfied with that response, Brian glowed with something like pride, like the bird that got the worm. “Excellent. Wait for me on the bed while I get some things out of my suitcase.” Jackie thought things through. Without more guidance, it was up to him to decide how to present himself. It wasn’t as tough now as it would have been a year ago, because he knew Brian pretty well, now, and he could use that knowledge to boost his intuition. Ultimately, he decided “on the bed” meant without his prosthesis, and minimally clothed. By the time Brian had retrieved some silky, colorful ropes, a couple of leather straps, some clips, some lube, and his “cowboy flogger” -- as Jackie thought of it -- Jackie was clad only in satiny briefs, submissive in a kneeling position, his short leg balanced on a pillow, back straight. His head was up, but his eyes down, because that’s the way Brian liked him. He felt Brian’s eyes on him, heard his deep breaths, was aware of Brian double checking the door lock, and stepping back to the foot of the bed. “Eyes, Jackie, for a moment.”

Not sure if he should be alarmed, Jackie met Brian’s gaze. “I have a plan, and in just a minute I’m going to tie you up. Eventually I’m going to gag you -- because we have to be quiet, right? -- and then I’m going to fuck you. But before I start all that, I just want to make sure you know that, well… it’s very possible you are the most beloved sub who has ever lived. Because I can’t imagine any man loving someone more than I love you.” Jackie swallowed and lowered his eyes. He hadn’t been given permission to speak, and even if he had, he wouldn’t have known what to say, how to express what he felt upon hearing those words. He could have said, I love you too, and it would of course have been true. He could have said thank you, and it wouldn’t have been wrong. But what he really felt was more like I am completely safe with you, I have a home in you, and I can fly. “Let’s begin,” Brian said, but he kissed Jackie, and the kiss seemed to information. Brian knows how I feel. I didn’t even have to say it. As he often did, Brian started with Jackie’s hair, combing through it with his fingers and making a thick braid of it. He wrapped a thin, gold-threaded green twine through it, wrapped it several times near the end, and tied it. This time, he didn’t tether it, but he tested it a couple of times with a not-too-sharp yank. Then he began running his hands over the tender skin of Jackie’s neck, stopping once to kiss the hump of his Adam’s apple. Jackie hadn’t seen his leather collar in Brian’s hand, but now he saw it as it ed under his still lowered eyes, and his heart skipped a little beat. Brian fastened it on, then ran some more of the goldflecked green twine through one of the metal hoops on the left side of the collar. He took Jackie’s left arm and bent it up at the elbow so that it rested in front of his chest, wrapped the thread around his wrist several times, then threaded it under his wedding rings and back to the collar where, Jackie assumed, he tied it off. It was a statement. It unified Brian the man and Brian the Dom, and it unified Jackie the sub and Jackie the husband. Brian stepped back. “You understand, Jack? Answer aloud.” “Yes,” Jackie said. But he was so overwhelmed with love for Brian that he

feared he might not be able to hold on to his submission. The emotion rolled too thick through his veins. A smart blow across his front, catching his right nipple as well as the tip of his cock through his briefs, cut through his fears. His surprised cock grew fully erect. Another strike, placed almost exactly the same across his chest, but flicking at his belly instead of his cock this time. Another just like it. The blows came softly, compared to the ones Brian had laid on Jackie’s ass and thighs in the past, but the places they hit were sensitive, and the tiny pains blossomed exquisitely. The sensations replaced threatening emotion, but they filled him with an excitement that had him breathing hard, his eyes roving side-to-side trying not to look up. He was submitting for Brian, but it was a wild submission, and coveted subspace seemed a million miles away. Not too gently, Brian lifted him and moved him back to the heavy brass headboard. He placed Jackie’s right arm across his left and bound it there, then wrapped ropes around his torso, tying them with pretty knots and placing four rosettes down the center of Jackie’s abdomen. Jackie’s nerves felt taut. He wasn’t sure if he shook outwardly, but inside he felt all atremble. Brian must have sensed something. Slowly, he placed three fingers under Jackie’s chin and tipped his head up just a little. “Eyes.” Jackie looked into deep green pools and saw himself reflected. “Safewords?” It took Jackie a second to recognize that Brian was asking if he needed to use them. He shook his head. He didn’t need to safeword. He didn’t want to safeword. “Okay,” Brian said, but instead of working more on his binding, he wrapped Jackie in a fierce hug, tucking Jackie’s head against his chest. After a moment, Jackie’s breathing slowed.

“Just let go, Devil Boy. Just submit.” The quiet moment, the embrace, the simple command gave Jackie what he needed. He let complete submission flow through his mind and body. What a relief it was to recognize a truth he already knew: In these moments, under the care of his Dom, he didn’t have to think, or even feel. All he had to do was allow himself to submit. In an instant, it all became so easy. His emotions, his love, his gratitude, it was all still there but it sank into quiet pools as he rose up out of them to fly. Brian finished his binding with ropes strung artfully with slip knots around the top of Jackie’s thighs, then out to the headboard’s corner posts, pulling him open and putting on show the mound of his cock inside the satin briefs -- growing longer and harder again, now that Jackie relaxed. Jackie saw Brian smile. It was one more part of what held him fast in his Dom’s control. “Those eyes,” Brian said. He chuckled as he pulled a black sweatband over his head and covered his eyes. It carried Brian’s scent, and Jackie flared his nostrils to take it in. The darkness seemed right for his state of mind, and he felt himself slip deeper into a subspace trance. He drifted… … Until his cock was suddenly exposed to cool air and wet lips and tongue embraced it. Too surprised to stop himself, he said, “Oh!” Brian chuckled again, laved a few more licks on Jackie’s cock and balls, then lifted the eye mask and met Jackie’s gaze. “You know better than to speak without permission, Devil Boy. And might I remind you, these walls are thin.” Jackie couldn’t help but watch as Brian stepped into the en suite, came out with a clean, soft cloth, and used it to wiped precum from first Jackie’s cock and then his own. Eyes holding Jackie’s gaze, he folded the cloth and brought it close to Jackie’s face for him to inspect. It glistened. He placed it in Jackie’s mouth. “That should keep you quiet, while you practice submitting. Since you can’t speak now, though, shake your head if you need a safeword. Understand?”

Jackie nodded vigorously, excited to find out what Brian would do next. “Practice submitting” sounded like a challenge. He didn’t have to wait long. Brian worked the crop carefully over Jackie’s torso, not striking hard, but flicking stinging blows to sensitive places with perfect timing. After six strikes, Jackie’s nipples pulled tight enough to ache, and small places over the skin of his belly buzzed with the remembrance of the crop’s touch. Three blows in a row, Brian struck the head of Jackie’s cock -- barely touching with a light sting, then the same against each of his balls. It hurt, and Jackie dove into the sensation. Subspace. Contentment. For just that moment, he wanted for nothing. He was aware of his ass being prepared for Brian’s cock. It roused him from his torpor only a little. For once, Brian didn’t unbind him before fucking him. He set his cock in place between Jackie’s already parted ass cheeks, pulled Jackie’s knees upward, and pushed in. The burn felt easy, sublime. After a few slow strokes, Brian leaned forward, ripped the gag from Jackie’s mouth, and kissed him well, thoroughly, smearing his mouth over Jackie’s, licking across his lips, fucking his mouth with his tongue. He reared up again, placing his fingers in Jackie’s mouth, and commenced pounding hard and fast, driving his cock in with hard snaps of his hips. Jackie roused from subspace as the with his prostate raised a need to come. He couldn’t see, didn’t know if Brian knew what he needed. He was licking and sucking at Brian’s fingers almost desperately, unable to move in response to the fucking. Brian said, a hoarse whisper, “I know, Jackie. I know.” He reached up and tore away the blindfold. “I want your eyes while we come, love. Do it now. Now!” Brian took hold of Jackie’s cock and stroked as he kept up the pounding, and Jackie’s orgasm crashed over him in a few short seconds. It was everything he could do not to cry out, but the need to be silent, coupled with the order to keep his eyes open and locked on Brian’s, heightened every sensation.

Watching Jackie come, Brian laughed -- a single, small but joyful sound. Then he growled, “Ah, damn, Jackie,” hips jerking through the sublime spasm of his own orgasm. And he kept his eyes on Jackie’s as promised. When it subsided, he fell down over Jackie, pinning him with his weight, a sweet comfort for Jackie for the brief moments it lasted.

* * * Brian could have lain still over Jackie forever. Their bodies fit together so perfectly, Jackie smelled like heaven, and there was simply no place he’d rather be. But he’d trained himself too well not to be conscious of his sub’s needs first, and he rose to take care of Jackie. First he kissed him gently and then unbound him. That done, he propped him on pillows and gave him sips of water. Leaving the water bottle in Jackie’s hand, he got up to get cloths for the cleanup. After the cleanup, he slid onto the bed beside Jackie, pulled him close, and held him for a few minutes, gently rubbing his arms to help him come back from subspace. Jackie stirred, looked around, then turned to Brian with a big, beautiful smile. “Hey, love,” Brian said. “All right?” Jackie nodded. “Yes. Definitely.” He closed his eyes to receive Brian’s light kiss, then leaned around Brian to look at the bedside clock. “What time is it, anyway? Eleven o’clock! I need to take a shower.” Brian unbuckled Jackie’s collar, then kissed his neck, then reached across the bed for Jackie’s canes. “Need any other help? If not, I’m going to unpack a few things, and then when you come out I’ll put some arnica cream anywhere you need it.” “Okay.” Jackie got up but he didn’t walk toward the shower right away. He stood still, leaning on his canes, then slowly turned to face Brian. “Uh, gods, Brian. That session. It was… I don’t know the words.” “I will take that as the finest compliment.” Jackie sobered completely, nodded. “You should. I love you.”

With that he turned and walked away, self-sufficient and strong as always. Brian slipped on his shorts for the sake of not being naked, tidied up the bed and the things he’d used for the session, and unpacked some fresh clothes, toiletries. He reached for his current crochet project -- the blanket of stars he’d wanted to have finished for Jackie’s New Year. Life had interfered with that goal, but he’d finish it soon. Meanwhile, he could work on it whenever Jackie wasn’t looking. Thinking it through, though, he knew he didn’t have enough time to pull it out now. Jackie’s shower would be a short one. He placed it in its own zipper bag and gave it a pat, silently promising to get back to it soon. He bumped against Jackie’s open laptop and it woke up, displaying a document in progress. A glance told him it was part of Jackie’s final project for his Master’s degree. He still had another half year to complete it, but Brian knew the work was important to Jackie for its own sake, not just to meet the degree requirements. Brian thought Jackie was probably better suited to be a forensic psychologist than anyone else ever. Any law enforcement agency that would have him on staff would be getting the cream of the crop. With a penchant for self-honesty, he closed his eyes and looked inward. “Nope,” he said aloud. “I’m not blinded by love. He really is pretty fabulous.”

Chapter Two

Brian’s phone buzzed. He glanced at the number and was surprised to see the call came from overseas. His first thought was that Jesse Douglas must want something from him, but then he ed Jesse was right there, a couple rooms away in Kaholo’s Nebraska living room. He picked up. “Harrison,” he said, not sure why he was feeling unfriendly. “Oh hey! I didn’t expect you to answer. Thought you’d be doing the New Year’s Eve thing and all. Was just going to leave a message.” Brian thought he knew who it was, but he wasn’t sure. It had been a couple of years since he’d heard the voice. He was just about to speak, when the caller spoke again. “Blast, I didn’t say who I am, did I? It’s Shiells, or Petey as you may calling me.” “Y-yes! I’m sorry. I recognized your voice. I’m just surprised. How are you?” “Right, then. Cheers. And you’re wondering what the bloody hell I’m doing calling you, and in particular, why I’d call on the eve of the New Year. Frankly, it isn’t the eve anymore here in England, as you know, it’s the New Year, and seven AM finds me at my desk. Since I was working, I thought perhaps everyone else in the world was too. Sorry.” Brian laughed and absently scratched the top of Soldier’s head. “No worries.” He’d always liked Senior Inspector Petra Shiells -- his boss at Scotland Yard -even though she usually was as cold and buttoned up as Luki had been when Brian first met him. Which meant all this bubbly chat she was sending down the phone lines seemed way out of character. He was about to ask what was up, but no need. “Let me cut the chatter. Perhaps I was up too late last night and too early this morning. Difficult to focus. But I it I’m excited. I’m moving to a new position. The Professional Standards Division -- similar to Internal Affairs in the

US -- is expanding in the face of a sudden steep rise in the appearance of possible corruption. From my brief, it looks as though data intelligence is going to be critical. Corrupt police are using it, and we’ve got to use it as a tool to fight the corruption. The upper staff chose me for the position because this unit will focus on corruption that intersects with major crimes. I’d like to choose you because you’re the best data wrangler I know. I’d like also to think you’ll say yes because you’re unemployed. But don’t answer now. Go ring in your New Year. Think on it and we’ll talk soon. Cheers.” She’d hung up, so there was no need for Brian to answer. Which was good, because he couldn’t. The idea of going back to work for Scotland Yard had butterflies dancing in his gut -- in a good way. But he had a lot to consider. First: Jackie. If he didn’t want to move to merry old England after the horror of his brief stay there a couple of years ago, who could blame him? And Jackie was still finishing his master’s degree. And it wasn’t true, really, that he was unemployed. Luki had promised he’d find a position for him -- but how did she know about that anyway? He certainly had a lot to consider, and not least important was what he’d have to do to get approval to return to England to work. He’d recently been implicated in a crime, and though the charges were dropped, records existed. He knew he wasn’t a criminal. And the people who mattered most to him knew that too. But police records never made a person look good. It was a lot to think about. Brian sat down heavily on the bed, tired after a hell of a long week recuperating, a hard day, and then a great but physically demanding session with Jackie. Suddenly, he became aware of the toll it had taken. And of the pain in his side where he’d been shot and sewed back together. And of the burn on the side of his head where he’d taken some blows a week ago. And… Damn. I’m a mess. The bed felt very comfortable as he flopped back onto it. Still, he sat up when Jackie came in all showered and fresh and ready to welcome the New Year with family. Jackie eyed him. “You look tired, Brian. I can understand why.” Part of Brian wanted to say yes, he was tired, and could he beg off the celebration, please. But seeing Jackie energized him. They’d be kissing at midnight, courting luck to help them get new chances off to a good start --

changing everything up for the second year in a row, but this time as husbands. “Never mind,” he said. “Nothing a quick wash, a shot of J&B, and good company won’t cure.”

* * * The cushions on Kaholo’s sofa seemed to mold themselves around Jackie, fitting so perfectly he thought he might be unable to leave them even if he wanted to. Brian had come out of the bedroom not long after Jackie had planted himself in his comfy seat. He smelled of soap and looked wide awake, and after giving Jackie a quick wink, he headed straight for the kitchen. He stepped into the archway leading to the kitchen holding a bottle of J&B and a shot glass. He caught Jackie’s eye and smiled, tilting his head inquisitively. “You want anything while I’m up?” “Not a thing,” Jackie answered, and it was true. In all his life, he couldn’t a moment of such contentment. His happiness had a lot to do with the beautiful session Brian had just led him through. He’d bound Jackie in beautiful knots, tethered him to the bed’s headboard, and then sent him deep into submissive bliss with urgent, nearly silent sex. But that wasn’t the whole story. Contentment seemed to reign throughout the little gathering at Kaholo’s snowbound Nebraska home. Christmas had come and gone a week earlier with little bustle and fuss except for making Jade’s day great, but the family had all gathered now, with Josh reprieved from his on-call duties for a few days, and Brian mended and released by doctors and police. Now the eve of a brand-new year was upon them -- and Jackie would get to kiss Brian at midnight. In fifteen minutes. Being the kind of person always interested in the workings of the mind and heart, and also being in the habit of self-reflection, Jackie wondered briefly if something was missing from his emotions at that moment. Shouldn’t he be boisterously gleeful like the crowds at Times Square, or millions of partygoers and tavern customers the world over? He even tried for a breath or two to muster

such an outlook, but he quickly realized he’d have to fake it. But quiet joy inhabited his soul like a broad, quiet river, and it seemed to touch the entire gathering. Brian finished in the kitchen, pulled the recliner close to Jackie’s corner, and now sat with a shot of J&B in one hand and the other hand resting on Jackie’s thigh. When Jackie turned his head briefly to look at him, he caught Brian smiling gently, a dreamy look in his eyes. Josh and Ruthie occupied the other end of the sofa, with the sleeping Jade lying across their laps. Either they were secretly sleeping too, or they stayed very still and watched the lights twinkle on the Christmas tree. Bear lay near the fire, probably mostly because that’s where Luki sat talking quietly with his old friend, Jesse Douglas, who’d arrived a couple days ago, and would stay and visit for a few days more. He had an unexpected extended leave, he’d said, but he hadn’t yet explained why. Jackie suspected it had something to do with his handling of the Vintner case, but if so, it could only be the result of agency politics. When Jesse had arrived at Kaholo’s just in time to sit down with the family for a late lunch, Sonny had met him at the door. “Does everybody here know Jesse…” he’d called out, “Luki’s former lover?” It was vintage Sonny, with his often deadpan humor, and everyone had mostly taken it in stride. Jesse, who didn’t know Sonny as well as the rest of the people present, had momentarily flushed with what looked like near panic. Luki rolled his eyes, as Sonny surely expected, and said, “Damn it, Sonny!” That seemed to ease Jesse’s shock a bit, and it faded entirely when Sonny giggled, said he was sorry, and gave Jesse a welcoming hug and a bottle of ale. Jesse’s an interesting man, Jackie thought now, eyeing him from his sofa corner. Tall, ginger, but all light shades -- hair and brows and freckles glowing gold -unlike Jackie’s own deep auburn-red hair and brown-speckled skin. Jesse was about Luki’s age, and the two of them did have that history, having been lovers a few decades past when they were in training at Glynco. When he’d met Jesse before, Jackie was focused on Jesse’s role as leader of the investigation of Fritzjof Westergaard, also known as Vintner. Jesse had held Brian’s life in his

hands, and when the chips fell wrong, he’d come through with his priorities in the right order. He’d gone in after Brian even though it might have meant blowing the case. But here at Kaholo’s, with leisure to let his mind wander, Jackie had thought about Jesse as Luki’s lover, and it was an odd thought for Jackie to examine. He couldn’t imagine anyone in Luki’s arms except Sonny. He smiled a little now as he noticed the bottle sitting next to his tumbler on the side table. He’d accepted the ale Sonny served him that first night, but obviously it wasn’t his drink of choice. J&B, neat. Brian should get on well with him, now that all that bad shit’s over. Sonny was at the kitchen table -- which could clearly be seen from the sofa -playing cards with Kaholo. That was, at the moment, the only brightly lit and somewhat noisy place in the house. Even the nonhumans had caught the mood of lazy contentment. Marley lay on the arm of the sofa by Jackie, on his back in an undignified position, Bear hadn’t moved from Luki’s feet, and Soldier had curled up nose to nose near the woodstove too, paws twitching in a dream. Sonny and Kaholo both seemed a little drunk. That was unusual and kind of funny. Jackie smiled, watching Sonny drop three cards as he shuffled. Kaholo, his deep voice carrying despite low volume, said, “Hah! At last I know how to keep you from cheating at cards!” Sonny looked back at him, outraged. “Jus’ ‘cuz I’m too tipsy to shuffle, it don’ mean I can’t cheat!” Everybody had heard, and everybody laughed. But then Brian stood up and said, “Hey, two minutes ‘til the ball drops.” Sonny actually proved more sober than Jackie had thought, because he got up gracefully and fetched the champagne -- which had been chilling in the freezer -and brought the bottle out to Luki. Brian went to the kitchen and brought out an old painted teak serving tray with glasses on it. An ancient clock on a corner shelf chimed, the “Happy New Year” cry went up - subdued because nobody wanted to wake the baby -- and Luki popped the cork

and splashed the bubbly wine in all the glasses. Brian and Sonny ed them out. Everybody got their kisses done, and then Kaholo raised his glass. “‘Okole maluna!” he said, bobbing his eyebrows and sniggering, “Bottoms up.” When the obligatory drink was done, the room went quiet again, until Luki addressed Jesse. “You should sing ‘Auld Lang Syne’ for us, the old Robert Burns version you taught me.” Jesse pursed his lips, then said. “I will, if you’ll sing with me.” When the song started, Jackie expected the usual tune everybody bawls out drunkenly all over America every New Year’s party. But that wasn’t what they sang, these two old friends. The melody was close, but more humble somehow, closer to the heart, and the words -- though some of them were foreign to Jackie’s ears -- told a bittersweet story. All the men in the room snorted like schoolboys over the first line of the first verse, “We both ha’e piddled i’ the burn,” even though it obviously didn’t really mean peeing in the creek. Ruthie, the only woman present, shook her head and rolled tolerant eyes at her husband. But then, as the verses progressed and the men sang “seas between us bra’e ha’e roared” and “we wandered mony a weary stoop sin auld lang syne,” a gentle longing seemed to descend over the room, reflected in everyone’s eyes. Jesse’s smooth, rich baritone blended with Luki’s scratchy remnant of a voice, and perhaps everyone, like Jackie, reflected on times lost and precious things salvaged, on people missed and present friends and family, on survival and life and love. Sonny stood next to Luki’s chair, where he’d been since the New Year’s kiss, and Kaholo had ed the circle, too, having claimed his New Year’s kiss from the top of Jade’s slumbering head. “So here’s a hand, my trusty friend, and gi’e ‘s a hand o’ thine,” they sang, and Luki reached out both hands, one to be taken by Sonny, one by Jesse. Around the room the rest of the family followed suit until every hand held another. By the time the last chorus rolled around, they’d heard it enough times to the subtly different melody.

They all sang at the finish, “We’ll tak a cup ‘o kindness yet for auld lang syne.” Their ed hands should have felt awkward, Jackie thought, but they didn’t. Six men, one woman, and a child like a promise -- they all held tight to each other until the words died away.

* * * Farnsworth had as always been true to his word. He’d sent Alexandra cash to tide her over for a few days and made a plan to get her out of the country. On the designated day -- the last bad day of a bad year -- he’d come through to make it happen. He’d met her early that morning at Pioneertown, where she’d hiked through dawn’s cold stillness after she’d trashed her bike, jumping off and sending it crashing into a stack of rocks along the one-lane Rimrock Road. People had seen them there, but the emptiness of the Mojave and the habitual disinterest of desert dwellers translated into protection, even though the nearest Post Office probably had her picture up under “Wanted by the FBI.” Chances were solid that anybody watching would have thought a well-kempt man in an expensive SUV was picking up a ragged hitchhiker. Alexandra had grown up in the Mojave. She knew desert people. They wouldn’t have liked seeing that, but they wouldn’t have given it too much thought. And they wouldn’t even have noticed him searching her and her bags, confiscating her weapons, and locking them up in a strong box. Mostly in silence that was somehow both comfortable and troubling for Alexandra, they’d driven south on Highway 62 until they could pick up US 10 west, a six-lane through alternating patches of suburbia and sandy desert. They’d kept west on California 60, as Alexandra had expected, since they were heading for the coast. But then Farns merged the SUV north on I-215. Alexandra’s gut suddenly churned with something more dreadful than the hunger that had been gnawing at her all morning. “Where are we going?” Farnsworth finished his merge before he took his eyes off the road to shoot her a look. “Why? Scared?” Yes, as a matter of fact she was. The most logical destination on this route was

Riverside, and the Bureau had an office there. Had he tricked her into coming out of hiding so he could turn her in? On the other hand, Riverside had a few not-very-nice denizens. Maybe he’d decided to just get rid of her without getting his own hands dirty. That way, he would avoid taking the chance that anything she said during interrogation would be credited enough to turn their eyes toward his less than above-board dealings. She’d just begun a mental calculation of where she’d likely have the best chance of survival if she exited the vehicle in motion when he laughed and shook his head. “I said I’d help you this one last time, Alex. And that’s what I’m doing. Some people I know out this way… owe me, we’ll say. I’ve made arrangements for you to get a couple of sets of documents and the disguises to go with them. They’ll also float a fake death certificate and notice out into the world via the web. By tonight, the world will know Alexandra Heylens is dead and cremated - unless someone digs too deep. And by tomorrow or at the latest the next day, someone who used to be you will be in Mexico City. Go where you want from there.” Without warning, Alexandra felt the sting of tears -- so rare for her even as a child. But it had been such a long, long time since anyone had taken care of her, and the comfort of it hurt. “Like I said, you go where you want from there. Just be sure I don’t know where that is. I don’t want to kill you, but if you, or any case involving you, comes across my path, I will. Even if I have to hunt you down to do it.” She wanted to rail at him, but she knew it would be pointless, so she breathed deep and held her peace. After a while, she asked, “How did I die?” “Motorcycle accident in a remote location in the Mojave. Nice touch, right?” She laughed with him, and just for a minute it felt good, felt right. But then the whole reality of what she was doing struck like a punch, and she had to fight a wave of nausea. They got off the freeway in Moreno Valley, rather than Riverside proper. Alexandra was startled out of her private anxiety when, as they cruised along Perris Boulevard in a deceptively sanguine looking neighborhood, Farnsworth spoke up in an oddly cheerful voice.

“You hungry, Alex? The business isn’t going to take too long here, and we don’t really want to get to the coast until after nightfall.” He glanced over with a smile that, in its unexpectedness, could charm anyone. “I figure we can get some huevos or something at Olivia’s. Ever been there?” She smiled, though her face felt all wrong doing it. “Uh… no. Never.” “Just a little place. Great food. You’ll like it.” She did, it turned out, or maybe hunger really was the best sauce. It was the first real meal she’d eaten in days. No eggs, though. It was close enough to midday by the time they got to the restaurant that the aromas of chiles, cumin, and cilantro wafted from the kitchens. She settled on the Anaheim enchilada, and with Farns’s encouragement, she drank a Modelo with it. The beer was the perfect accompaniment, and with a full stomach and a little alcohol -- neither of which she was used to -- she settled into a strange calm, aware of her troubles only as things bobbing on the horizon. In the SUV, she closed her eyes and laid her head back. “Hey,” Farns said. “Get some sleep in the back. Plenty of room back there, some blankets. You’ve got a big night ahead.” He patted her hand, exactly like a person who cared. She decided to believe he did, but she still wasn’t sure about trust. If she wasn’t paying attention, where would he take her? Then she realized it didn’t matter. Awake or asleep, he could take her anywhere and she’d have little chance to do anything about it. While he drove, she slept. It was close to nine at night when they got to the coast in Orange County. They’d left Riverside by three PM, and there was no way it took six hours to drive it, so Farnsworth must have stopped somewhere to kill time. When she thought about that, she realized he could have killed her, and a little trust was restored. “The plan?” she asked, after swigging lukewarm coffee from the Styrofoam cup he handed her when she crawled up front. Looking around, she judged the road they were parked along would prove to be Pacific Coast Highway. She could hear the surf not far away, and a sign at an intersecting street just ahead had an arrow pointing to the right, and the words, “Heisler Park.”

“Well… We’re early yet for the next stage, and I thought before we head down to the beach you might need a restroom. They have some at the park.” “Yeah. You coming?” “Nah. I’ll sit this one out.” The park was such an incongruously lovely place. Paths and flowers and palm trees. She felt ridiculous, all wrong, until she got to the restroom, which had been recently trashed. It seemed like that state of nasty filth was more in keeping with the remains of her life. The sleep she’d gotten had been good for refreshing her mind and body, but it also refreshed her bitterness. She had good reason to be angry with the world, and she was glad the ugliness of that public bathroom brought it back to the forefront of her mind. With each step on the way back to the SUV and Farns, she ticked off a name of someone she hated, someone against whom she planned revenge, someone who deserved nothing better. She started with her Bureau comrades who’d betrayed her, distanced themselves from her -- though none of them were any better. They all failed, they all cheated, they all lied when they needed to. She’d been caught, and she’d stood her ground. That was the only difference. She hated them and she named them one by one. More recent additions came next. Vintner belonged on her list, certainly, but she likely couldn’t touch him, and the treatment he was getting in prison was probably sufficient. Lieb as well. Snively too, but he was probably not worth bothering with. He was stupid and would likely die young without any help. Then there was that State Department suit, Jesse Douglas. She wondered about including the man that had come in to Vintner’s place bugged, but it seemed to her he’d been trapped into his role. She could let him slide. Unless he got in her way. More names, more reasons. Just before she got to the SUV, she wondered if she wanted to add Farnsworth to the list. No. He’s my friend. Even though he’ll probably kill me -- someday. “I suppose this is where you leave me on my own,” Alexandra said after Farns explained the rest of the plan.

To her surprise he shook his head. “Nope. I’ll see you through this next bit. When you meet the big boat off Catalina, that’s where I’ll say goodbye.” “Why?” she said, and immediately bit her tongue. She shouldn’t have asked. She was sure she either sounded needy or suspicious, or possibly both. Really, she couldn’t figure out why he was going to such lengths, putting himself at risk, even, when all he really wanted was to wash his hands of her forever. “There might be a few reasons. But the one I’m going to tell you is that I owe you a debt. I’m repaying it in full tonight. We’re even, except that you still pose a risk to me. So, after tonight…” Alexandra shook her head and put up a hand to stop him. “I know. You’ll kill me.” “If you cross my path, yes.” The stairs down to the beach were crowded and the beach even more so. New Year’s Eve high spirits, booze, and fireworks should provide cover for them among the crowd, and keep even police attention off of them as they made their way out to open water, running no lights. Galen, a relative of Farnsworth whom Alexandra ed from brighter days, met them just inside the cave under the resort building next to Fisherman’s Cove at high tide, which came at the perfect time that night, a quarter hour before midnight. They loaded into the boat, and ran slow and almost silent out into the water, the maneuverable shallow draft boat easily missing the rocks -- both those hidden beneath the water, and those jutting up, which Farns watched for and called out. Once they’d cleared the cove and were far enough out, Galen turned on the headlight and powered up, and they settled in for the ride across the water to Catalina. Farns sat next to Alexandra, and when she shivered in the wind, wrapped an arm around her. The warmth and shelter he offered tasted bittersweet to her, and she watched the fireworks off Dana Point in silence. An hour after they’d left the cove they’d reached their destination off the western shore of Santa Catalina -- the Farnsworth Offshore State Marine Conservation Area. Noise from the resort’s famous New Year’s Eve party carried across the water, but a mist had settled over the choppy water, and it sounded like the voices of ghosts. The larger boat Farns had hired to take Alexandra south was late, so they waited, Galen and Farnsworth smoking cigarettes, obviously

nervous. Strangely, their edginess calmed Alexandra, and she never doubted for a minute that the rendezvous would come off as planned. It did. She was told to call the boat’s captain John, and the two mates Jim and Bill, but none of them spoke more English than was required to stumble through the simplest statement. Alexandra had some Spanish, but she didn’t break it out. As soon as she was settled aboard, Farnsworth kissed her once, reminded her that he would hunt her down and kill her if cause arose, and climbed back down and into the smaller boat. He and Galen sped off. Alexandra discovered that he’d restored her weapons to her pack. Oddly, she didn’t feel any safer. She was comfortable enough on the water, but she was no sailor. If she had to kill John and company in self-defense, she’d probably capsize the boat and drown. So if they meant to kill her, one way or another, she’d die. No use worrying over it. She went to sleep below decks, and woke up to a clear, cold morning with land -the northern coast of Baja California, John said -- a distant haze to the east. My name is Alexia Simons, she rehearsed. Alexia Simons. The boat, a power yacht, had a satellite dish and wi-fi. She smiled, silently thanking Farnsworth for making the trip bearable. It must have been expensive. As repayment, she’d try to stay out of his way. Unless that meant letting a chance for revenge slide. She’d figure that out later. Now she needed to decide who, from her list, she’d visit first.

* * * As he walked toward the kitchen table, Brian watched his feet in an effort to avoid the stab of beautiful but blinding winter sun framed in the east facing window over the sink. “Mornin’.” At the sound of Kaholo’s voice, Brian looked up, squinting. “Good morning. I didn’t think anybody would be up yet.” A roar of male laughter sounded from the kitchen table, letting him know that,

except for Jackie, he was the last man in the house to the living that New Year’s Day. “Isn’t it kind of early for you all to be having a kaffeeklatsch?” “Kaffeeklatsch?” Sonny said, bringing a cup of the dark stuff to the table. “You sound like someone’s grandmother.” Smiling, Brian took the chair Sonny indicated. “I sound like my grandmother. Was German. I used to love staying at her house with my cousins, but whenever she and her ladies were sitting around the table she’d tell us kids, ‘Raus mit dir,’ and send us outside -- no matter the weather. “No kinde underfoot for kaffeeklatsch.” The others laughed, more at his imitation of an old lady, he supposed, than the story. That had been a lot of words first thing after waking up, so he fell silent, took some careful sips of his still-too-hot coffee, made an appreciative noise, and sat back with his eyes closed. He heard a chair scrape a moment later, and looked up to find Luki getting things out of the fridge, apparently to make a feast for breakfast. “I don’t know about everybody else,” Luki said, “but I’m getting hungry. I usually eat at too-damned-early o’clock, because Sonny forces me to get up at an ungodly hour.” Sonny made a face and mimicked Luki behind his back, and Brian laughed with the rest of the men. From the secretive smile on Luki’s face, he was absolutely certain he somehow knew what Sonny had done. And he was right. “I don’t look like that, Sonny.” But Luki’s comment prompted Brian to look at the clock, realizing the hour wasn’t as early as he’d thought. The low sun had fooled him, but it was January. Dawn had probably not come until close to eight AM. It was nearly nine-thirty, now. He marveled for a moment that Jackie -- habitually an early riser -- was still in bed. Then he thought about Jade and Ruth. He was sure kids usually got up early. “I’m surprised your little one isn’t up yet, Josh.”

“Oh she was. About five AM, for some reason, she decided to be a chatterbox. Kept Ruthie and me up for a good two hours. Then the two of them went back to sleep, but I couldn’t, hence you see me sitting here all bleary-eyed sucking down coffee. I was just thinking maybe I should go out for a walk, try to wake up better.” “I’ll you,” Jesse said, breaking his silence. “After working in Denmark for a few years, I feel like a winter morning isn’t complete without frozen toes.” “Probably not a bad idea to go now,” Kaholo said. “This weather isn’t going to last. Another storm blowin’ in by this afternoon.” He looked at Luki. “Mili? Want to us? Breakfast can wait.” “Thanks, but no. You guys won’t be out there long before your asses are frozen. By the time you come back in, food will be ready.” When he got up, Brian had thrown on his comfy jeans, only-worn-once socks, and the first t-shirt he could find, so now all he needed was boots and coat, and they were by the door. Everyone else looked more put together than him, but still things got a bit crowded at the door as they made ready to brave the cold. He whistled for the dogs on the way out, and soon enough, they all stumbled out into what felt like the freshest air Brian had ever breathed. They trudged through snow a good foot and half deep, but Josh and Sonny took the lead, so Brian just followed in their footsteps, occasionally throwing a stick for the dogs, which they would play-fight over but never bring back like normal dogs. Kaholo walked a bit behind Brian, and Jesse brought up the rear. As expected, they took the well-worn unofficial path through the oaks, heading toward the river. Still seems odd, Brian thought, having Jesse here. Kaholo’s deep voice drifted up the trail from several yards back. “It’s been a long while, Jesse. You still the way to the river?” “How could I forget? That walk, those minutes by the river. You telling me that story -- that was the only time I ever saw Luki lose his cool -- well, at least until that time in Paris when Sonny was in trouble. He didn’t want you to tell me, but there at the river when he was a kid, I don’t want to think about what would have happened if Peli hadn’t come to fetch him back.”

“Yeah, I know. Peli was an ass sometimes -- a lot of times -- but he was good at the rescue. Like Luki. Like you, too, apparently. And I had no business telling that story when Luki made it clear he didn’t want me to. I’m sorry you got in the middle of that. I’m glad you’re here now, by the way. Sonny is definitely the only man for Luki, but he needs friends, too…” Brian came out of the trees onto the road’s broad shoulders, and the rattle and hiss of the North Loupe in winter drowned out the rest of the conversation he’d unintentionally been privy too. What he’d heard had been food for thought, though. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that Jesse had been at Kaholo’s house before, but it did, and it opened Brian’s eyes to the fact that, what with Jesse’s role in the whole Vintner sting operation, Brian hadn’t thought of him as anything but a face of authority. Light bulb, Jesse is a human being. That thought somehow made the moment very awkward when Jesse stepped up beside him and leaned on the rail. Brian was looking into the dark waters, charting the age of loose chunks of ice, but he felt Jesse’s presence. The two of them stood side-by-side in a silence that rippled with discomfort until Jesse spoke in a quiet, almost tentative voice. “Reminds me of Scotland.” Mildly alarmed that he was supposed to make casual conversation with the man who’d so recently taken Brian’s life into his own hands, Brian took a beat too long before responding. “Are you Scottish?” “Well, I was born in Massachusetts, but my father came from Scotland. He used to take me there every year at summer break, and sometimes in winter, too, to see his sister who lived in Aviemore. After he ed, I started going every winter -- she doesn’t have anybody else to make sure everything is in order. At least I can check her furnace, and whatnot. I still go every year -- there’s always a few things for me to do.” Jesse seemed a different person from the calmly in-charge federal agent Brian had met months ago. Still calm, still quiet, but something deep running beneath the surface that Brian hadn’t seen at all before. And something in Brian answered. Maybe it was only kindness, but it made him want to engage.

“This river reminds you of that place, then? Does it get icy in winter?” Brian put a smile into the question, as if it was almost a joke. But Jesse brightened, “It does indeed. Ever hear of the Cairngorms?” “Um… a mountain range?” “Yeah, in the Highlands. Cold winters, ski resorts, dog sledding.” Jesse punctuated that with a chuckle. “That’s where Aviemore is, and the river Spey -which this one reminds me of, as I said. And even though there’s all that winter sports and such, mostly it’s a quiet place. Refreshing. Though, mind you, I usually fly into Glasgow and spend a week clubbing and such before I head north. Take the train.” “Sounds like a well-rounded vacation plan. I can’t the last time I had more than a few days. Jackie and I talked about a honeymoon, but it never got any further than that. He even mentioned Scotland -- some of his ancestry is from there, and he’s wondered about it, I guess, though it isn’t the sort of thing he talks about much, given what his father was.” “My dad was quite an ass, too, though not to the extent Royce was, from what I’ve heard. But I’m grateful he gave me Scotland. I love the place. Gonna retire there maybe, or maybe spend half my time there. And the way my bosses are talking at State, that might be happening sooner than I planned. Leastways, I’m gonna have a lot of time off.” “Uh… what? You mean you’re losing your job? Not… not because of me, or… Los Angeles?” “Not losing it yet, but if I do, no, not because of you. Yes, because of Los Angeles.” “But… the sting was a success.” “Agency politics. State has taken a lot of flak for keeping control of the investigation, and then more or less making the corruption in some places obvious -- even though that wasn’t my intention. And then… as far as whether it’s a success? We got Vintner, and we got Lieb -- he was one of ours, so he was a prime target. But too little return on investment, I guess you’d say. Bosses are not happy and that goes all the way up the line.”

Brian heard echoes of a lot of baggage in those statements. He didn’t know what to say. When the silence grew too long, Jesse ventured, “Sorry. Too much, right? It’s what comes of never talking until someone’s actually listening.” Brian smiled. “Oh, it’s fine. I’m glad you explained. It’s just… I really don’t know what to say, except… Well, if it’s worth anything at all, at first I was worried when I agreed to be undercover. I didn’t think I mattered -- my safety, I mean. Because after all, it was true I defied your written order and I broke the law. But in the end you put the whole thing on the line to come in after me. I hope that isn’t part of the trouble with your bosses. For me, you were top-notch. I appreciate it.” Jesse chuckled. “Happy to hear you say that, and you’re not wrong. I did put the success of the sting on the line, but turned out you didn’t need me to help you get out. And that’s not really the issue with my seniors. And anyway, I guess I’m overdramatizing. I’ve got a couple decades in with State, and I’m not important enough for the Secretary -- or even the Ambassador, to come at me with a hatchet. They won’t fire me. Right now: one year ‘sabbatical.’” “Oh! What are you going to do?” Jesse smiled, and it was friendly and open, and a touch of humor glinted in his eyes as he met Brian’s gaze. “I’m going to Scotland!”

Chapter Three

In a mild, clear evening on January 2nd, Alex walked off John’s yacht, lighter by several weapons than when she’d walked on. John had been only too happy to buy them at the bargain price she offered. She had a plan for replacing them, but not until she got somewhere she was going to need them. Right now, she was safer without them. She waved without turning around and stepped onto the dock of a small marina in Manzanillo, Mexico. Las Hadas, it was called, a name to inspire wonder as it meant, she’d been told, “The Faeries.” She smiled slightly, ing a time very long ago when she would have been enchanted by such a name. When she’d been innocent. Before her sister’s murder at the hands of a serial killer had shaken her love of life, and inspired her drive to become an FBI agent. And before the reality of an agent’s life popped her inflated trust in the idea of white-hat law enforcement. Oh yes, white-hats were out there, but she couldn’t be one, because sometimes to stay on that side of the legal line meant making the cruelest choices. And then she’d become bitter and vengeful, and allied with the ugliest underside of the populace. And then she’d gone rogue, long before anyone at the Bureau knew. Well, except Farns, maybe. And now, a wanted fugitive with a few connections but not a single real friend in the world, she had absolutely no reason to hold back. Here came the real test of her skills. In this game of her own imagining, how many vengeance points could she rack up before somebody took her down? She’d ride it out and score as long as she could, and she thought this State Department bastard, Jesse Douglas, would be worth at least fifty points. And hell, why not count extra for collateral damage? She laughed out loud at the thought, and headed for the hired car waiting to take her to Playa Del Oro airport not far to the north. Farnsworth’s Moreno Valley appeared to be something of a wizard, because Alexia Simons had resources. Money in two “offshore s,” a well-used port, and credit

cards with unused balances and “miles.” Alex had worried about the cards and ID. It seemed to have belonged to a real person, and that would probably mean heat. ”No, Alex,” Farns had said, sounding just a little impatient.”This identity isn’t hot. Think about it -- you can figure out how that’s so without anybody telling you.” She did think about it, and yes, she figured it out. Alexis Simons was undoubtedly not the original name on any of these resources. And whoever they did belong to -- an independent person who wandered the globe at will -- was dead, a fact as yet unknown to anybody that mattered. ”Of course,” Farns had added, ”They will be at some point. But they’re good for long enough, if you’re smart about it.” That’s one thing she usually could manage -- being smart. Usually. Because she hadn’t been all that smart about some things in her life. Like Vintner and a few other “enterprising moves.” And like Farnsworth. Like letting Farnsworth go… But she shook her head against any further thinking. She had no room for regret or even gratitude. She might not live much longer -- people like her never did -but she’d use what time she had for one purpose: revenge. So Mexico City, to Paris, then lose Alexia Simons to new identity number two. She’d be damn near invisible to all the world. Except Farnsworth.

* * * Except for Josh, who had to get back to work and left the evening of January second in the midst of blowing snow, the party stayed at Kaholo’s Nebraska home until the new storm abated and the roads were easy. That took three days, which was one day longer than anybody had planned. But Kaholo loved the company, and Ruthie loved all her eager babysitters, and all the guys took turns spoiling Jade, and the new friendship between Jesse and Brian grew strong. Jackie watched the bond between those two men grow, and it made him happy.

One thing that had concerned him from time to time was that sometimes it seemed like the only thing that anchored Brian in life was their love -- now their marriage -- and his work. Jackie understood; he formed few strong friendships himself. But he had the strength of three uncles and his brother all in the weave of his life. Brian had those same people, but not quite in the same way, and his Shibari mentor, Tommy, was distant, his involvement limited. As they packed their things in preparation for a flight to Washington -- where they’d spend some days at the Vasquez-James home until they figured out where to go next -- Brian got a phone call. He left the room to talk to whoever it was on the other end, which annoyed Jackie a little, but he was beyond mistrust at this point -- he supposed he trusted Brian, but maybe he no longer had the energy for suspicion. Either way, he figured he’d wait until Brian told him what was up. He didn’t have to wait long. “Hey, Jack,” Brian said as he came back into the room. “Can you sit down with me for a minute? Maybe have some tea? I need to talk with you about something. A couple things.” “Sure. You want to put the kettle on, and I’ll come out there -- or did you want to talk in here?” “In here, I think. I’ll be back with the tea. Earl Grey?” “Of course.” Jackie smiled. He’d acquired the taste for that gently bergamotflavored tea from Brian, who’d developed a love for it during his time in London. By the time Brian came back, Jackie had seated himself in the overstuffed armchair under the window -- where Marley loafed on the sill -- and was brushing the tangles out of his hair. He stopped and looked up when he sensed Brian watching him. “What?” “Nothing, love. Just you’re beautiful.” Brian smiled. Jackie grinned in response, and he was pretty sure he blushed a little. Brian’s words always had an incredible ability to affect him. But still, he redirected Brian to the matter at hand. “Thanks,” he said, watching as Brian put the tea down on the end the end table, setting Jackie’s cup within reach. “And thanks for the tea. But that isn’t what you wanted to talk about.”

“No, it’s not. First… well. Just how badly did you hate London?” “Hate it? I didn’t. I mean, disregarding the crazy murderers. The city seemed a little overwhelming, but not like Los Angeles. I liked the way it felt… like a jigsaw puzzle of small communities, sort of cozy, I didn’t mind the weather, most of the time. Liked that it had history. Liked that -- at the time -- I didn’t have a history there. Why?” Brian took a sip of his tea as if giving himself time, and Jackie picked up his own cup while he waited for Brian’s response. “Because I need to know how you feel about the possibility of moving back there.” “Brian,” Jackie said with a particular emphasis to let it be known he was getting annoyed with all the dancing around. “Why not just tell me what’s up?” “My boss, Petra Shiells, wants me to come back to work.” Jackie said nothing, but chewed his lip and squinted out the window, mostly trying to figure out how that might work -- visas and all. “For the Met,” Brian said. Then, after a pause, “The London Metropolitan Police.” Another pause. “Scotland Yard.” “Yes,” Jackie said quickly, finally realizing why Brian was rattling on. “I knew what you meant. But… can you? Can we? I mean. I was there on a student visa, and you… what?” “Petey… I mean Shiells thinks it won’t be a problem if she can get me hired back on. I should be able to get my resident status reinstated. And then… we’re married now, so that should help get you approved.” He stopped and reached out to place a hand on Jackie’s thigh, looking earnestly into his eyes. “I know you still have school. I won’t take the job if you can’t go, or even if you’d rather not, period. But if it all works out… what do you think?” “What would you be doing?” “Well, of course nothing’s for sure. I mean, I’d need to be interviewed by a and all the usual, but if nothing stands in the way… if they decide I’m right for

the job, I’d be working in an anti-corruption unit.” Jackie’s first thought was, Oh good, it won’t be as dangerous. But then he thought more carefully about it -- all the cops and officials with a lot to hide and more to lose. “It will be even more dangerous than Major Crimes, won’t it.” “That’s a real possibility. I understand if you’re not comfortable with it. Hell, I honestly don’t know what I even feel about it. But… it’s a job. It’s law enforcement.” “Your cup of tea, so to speak.” “Maybe.” “I never want you to be in danger,” Jackie said slowly, thoughtfully. “But I know who you are. And I know what your hopes and dreams have been for your life’s work. I’ll stand behind what you decide. But… if you’re unsure, why not talk to some people who know that life from the inside out… like Luki, or Jesse, maybe? When does Shiells need an answer?” “A couple days. The new unit she’s heading up is still forming up, but she wants me there from the gate, if possible. She’d need a couple weeks to get a preliminary approval to talk to me, and then she’ll have to arrange a interview, so she needs to know whether I’m available sooner, rather than later.” “That’s not much time.” “To be fair, I’ve been stalling, sitting on it since New Year’s Eve.” Jackie shook his head. “Asshole.” Brian was drinking his tea and he almost spat it out in surprise. When he recovered, he said, “Asshole, what?” Jackie laughed. “Asshole, Sir.” “That’s better. But Jackie, there’s something else on my mind, too. I have to make a decision, and it’s not easy.” “Difficult as opposed to, say, packing up and moving to London?”

“Well… yes. I think it’s a more of a loaded issue than that one, even.” “Tell me.” “What do you think about me talking to the press -- anonymously -- telling what I found out about corrupted cops and agents during the whole Vintner thing?” Jackie opened his mouth to say what the fuck, but nothing emerged. He closed his mouth and sat up straighter in the chair. He searched his husband’s face. How, he wondered, could someone feel so Goddamned safe, when he’s constantly digging up danger and dragging it around with him? “You think I shouldn’t,” Brian finally said, apparently believing he was reading Jackie’s expression. “I didn’t say that.” More silence as Jackie focused on dripping icicles from the branches of a young tree outside the window. “Okay, Jackie, what do you think, then?” “Depends.” “On?” Jackie turned to meet Brian’s eyes and, knowing he sounded a little angry, said, “On why. Why do you want to do that?” “Honestly,” Brian answered without pause, “I hadn’t even thought of it until Dierdre White from KRTA came to my hospital room the day I got out. That same day Rich Miller, the lawyer, said the public would most likely never hear about the shit. I wasn’t going to be prosecuted, and the agencies involved would be able to keep it all quiet. Ms. White asked me if I thought the public should know. I hate it, because I’d like to walk away completely, but I do. I do think the public should know.” Jackie nodded. He couldn’t argue with that. He drained his tea. “You’re right. Why are you asking me?”

“No more secrets.” “Okay. Luki?” “Yeah. Him too.”

* * * Brian did talk to Luki and Jesse both, separately, about the Scotland Yard opportunity. He got basically the same reaction from both of them. Luki said, “Brian, I loved and hated working directly in law enforcement. Sometimes, I still wish that’s where I’d stayed. Mostly, now, I’m glad I’m out on my own, master of my own fate, as they say, but I’m glad that I did work for ATF. I’m glad I was in law enforcement. In truth, it wasn’t quite the perfect fit for me, but if there’s anyone I’ve ever known who I think is right for the job, it’s you. So… whatever you -- and your husband -- decide. That’s really all I have to say about it.” Jesse was only a little more cautious. “I don’t really have that much experience with what you consider law enforcement. I mean, technically, yes, I’m part of a police agency within the federal government, but the State Department’s a different animal. The kind of police work I did with the Vintner case? I’ve done very little of that. In one way, I’d like to do more. But in another, I’m just as happy with my more understated duties. I’m good at what I do, and I prevent bad things from happening. One of the ways I do that is by recognizing the people who work under me who are good at the footwork. I watched you work on the Vintner case. You exceeded expectations. I think you’d make a fine addition to any police force. I know I’d hire you, if that were among the possibilities.” That surprised Brian. “Is it?” he asked. Jesse smiled and shook his head. “No. I’m going to Scotland, ?” “Oh yeah,” Brian said, nodding. “Figured it couldn’t hurt to ask.” “Right. Well, anyway, if you have a few weeks between now and the time you might be needed in London, you and Jackie should consider coming over there to visit. Not much daylight this time of year, and it can be damned cold and

dreary out, but there are a lot of things to do indoors in Glasgow, and trips to see the sights are an hour out by train. Up around Aviemore, good chance it will be a bit of winter wonderland. Cold nights -- perfect for the fireside. If you come, I’ll show you around Glasgow and let you have some time on your own, then we can get together and I’ll take you on the train up to Aviemore to meet my old auntie and relax in the country.” Brian was a little surprised to hear Jesse string so many words together just to invite him and Jackie to visit Scotland, but it seemed a great idea. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of doing something like that. Lord knows we could both stand some R and R, and Jackie should have a honeymoon. I’ll talk to him about it and let you know.”

* * * It didn’t take much talking at all to get Jackie on board with the idea of a honeymoon in Scotland. The day they were traveling to Washington, their evening and morning had been pretty rushed. Then unexpected winds had blown snow around while they were on the road from Oak Flats to North Platte Regional Airport, so Brian had been occupied with visibility problems. And maybe Jackie had been a little nervous. They got to the airport safely, but in a rush to catch their plane, and Jackie slept most of the flight to Denver. Long and short of it, Brian had no chance to broach the subject of a Scotland honeymoon until they were at the airport in Denver, waiting for their flight to SeaTac. As they wandered a bit stretching their legs while they had a chance, they happened on a trio of wall-sized framed posters touting the wonders of Scotland, complete with castles, kilts, and smiling tourist faces. Jackie barely glanced at them as they ed, but he reached out a hand as if, subconsciously, he wanted to touch the castle’s crenellated walls. It brought the possibility to Brian’s mind, and he broached the subject. “You still want to see Scotland?” “Sure. Someday. If I had a bucket list, it would be on there. Let’s get a yogurt parfait.” Brian wasn’t real thrilled about yogurt parfaits, but he could live with the idea of watching closely as Jackie licked the creamy stuff off the spoon. But he wasn’t

done with the Scotland question. “How about for our honeymoon?” “What?” Jackie was preoccupied deciding on toppings. “Scotland.” “Good idea.” Jackie seemed noncommittal, or maybe he just didn’t think it was a serious possibility, so Brian told him about Jesse’s invitation. Testing, he even played a bit of devil’s advocate, telling him it would be winter, probably bitter weather, and they’d only spend a few days in Glasgow -- not the more famed Edinburgh or the romanticized Inverness -- and then head north to meet Jesse’s country auntie. “I think that sounds great, Bri! We’ll meet real Scots and see the place a lot differently than we would if we went on some tour, or even just on our own. And a few days in a city that’s nothing like Los Angeles -- sounds good to me. And then quiet in the countryside. Hell yes. Let’s do it.” Jackie’s eager, happy face -- a beaming smile Brian hadn’t seen since they were planning their first weekend together in Denver -- was quite irresistible for Brian. From that point on there was no point in contemplating not going. For a travel day, the rest of it went well. Jackie’s mood was stellar and Brian only worried a little about things like Petra Shiells’s job offer and the reporter from KRTA, who’d somehow got his email address and still wanted a “scoop” from Brian about the Vintner stuff. She’d asked him again to her, but he couldn’t do that because he hadn’t spoken to Luki about it yet. He wasn’t sure why he hadn’t, but right then didn’t seem to be the time to worry about it. He let it simmer, and snoozed on the plane. When they got to Seattle, it was evening. Sonny and Luki had arrived at the airport about twenty minutes ahead of them, and they rode home to the Olympic Peninsula together in a limo from an airport shuttle service. Jackie couldn’t stop talking about Scotland -- he’d been looking stuff up on his phone. Luki rolled his eyes several times more or less secretively, but it didn’t affect Jackie’s excitement, especially since Sonny was such a great listener.

The next morning, a pair of flexible-date, round-trip tickets to Glasgow were slipped under their bedroom door in an anonymous envelope with Luki’s writing on the outside. “Wedding and Christmas present in one, both a little late.” The next week in Washington, Jackie was gone a lot. Sonny took him to the clinic to get a check-up on his leg, and then back another time for minor adjustments. Shortly after they came back that time, Brian walked into the bedroom to find Jackie sitting on the edge of the bed, gazing at the prosthetic he’d just put on. He turned it this way and that and didn’t look up at Brian as he said, “I’m doing great with it, they think.” “What do you think? That’s the important thing.” “I don’t know, Brian. I’d like to be running in the Olympics and climbing mountains. Not there yet. But I can get around fine, I barely limp, and I can assume an okay submissive position for my Dom. I guess it’ll do.” Jackie’s smile as he met Brian’s gaze -- as well as his tone -- carried a bit of snark. Brian got the message: Jackie was happy with his leg. That meant Brian was happy too. Another day, Jackie invited him to go shopping in Seattle with him, Margie, and Sonny. Brian was glad to have a ready excuse. “Luki wants us to sit down and sort out stuff about the branch closing. Can’t say no -- he’s still paying my salary.” So that day, a particularly dismal and wet northwest winter one, Brian spent six hours in Luki’s grumpy company -- so grumpy the dogs left the room early on and didn’t come back. Only Marley could compete. Marley’s grumpy was standard. Luki’s grumpy was because he wasn’t a “paperwork and data” kind of guy, and he probably would have rather been doing anything else in the world. He kept the supply of coffee flowing, though, and in the middle of everything he decided hamburgers were needed and stopped to make them. They were of course delicious. Possibly the best hamburger Brian had ever eaten.

To Luki’s credit, he stayed engaged most of the time, counseling here and there about what to do about this or that while Brian made everything make sense in the data files. Then he called Jude and said, “We’re sending this stuff. See if it’s okay.” When that was done, Brian finally found the nerve to talk to Luki about Dierdre White. His response: “Shit, Brian.” That was more or less the reaction Brian was afraid he’d get, and he prepared to assure Luki he’d just say no, but Luki surprised him when he continued. “Not every day we get to be part of blowing the whistle, letting the public in on the secret about corruption. I’m not going to tell you I don’t think you should do it. Just be careful. And I hope you can trust this reporter.” Relieved, he assured Luki he’d be careful. Luki’s answer was a grunt as he turned his back, apparently not worried, or maybe just refusing to show it. Brian retreated to the back bedroom he and Jackie shared with a tumbler and the J&B bottle. He hadn’t gotten far into his first drink before his phone rang. It was an LA number, but for some reason Brian didn’t stop to think about whether he should answer. He just did. “Harrison.” “Dierdre White, here. How are you Mr. Harrison? Do you have a moment to talk?” He swallowed some J&B. “Brian? May I call you Brian?” “Sure,” he said, but he knew the time had come for him to make a decision, and honestly, he hadn’t done that yet. Up until this afternoon, some part of him might have been hoping Luki would give him an excuse not to do the interview with Dierdre. But those words “unlikely the public would ever know,” had sat in the

back of Brian’s mind for weeks since Rich Miller uttered them. His own conscience spoke up: The public should know when half the lawenforcement community is crooked. Exaggeration. I know, but still… Dierdre said, “Listen Brian. I’d be happy to keep your name to myself, and any other names you feel shouldn’t be divulged, but as a journalist what I try to do is tell the stories, the true stories, that really need to be told. I don’t see how anyone could pretend this isn’t one of those stories.” She was trying to convince him, but Brian didn’t need convincing. He wasn’t sure why White was the only journalist to approach him. Maybe they’d looked far enough to see signs posted saying “Danger.” As for White, she seemed about at least as trustworthy as the average reporter. He’d seen her on television often enough, and looked into her reputation a bit. She liked scandal, but didn’t they all? And he hadn’t found any suggestions that she’d betrayed confidences. He drained his glass and poured two more fingers of Scotch, then sat down with his glass. “Yeah, so please do keep my name out of it. As for the rest, if there’s something I want confidential, I won’t tell you about it. So you start: What do you want to know, Dierdre?”

* * * Charles de Gaul airport was one of the busiest Alex had ever been in, but arrival went well, and she found her way out of the airport and to a taxi for a ride to the Hotel Les Herbes Folles, the type of hotel Alexia Simons would probably like -but from records, had never stayed in. Once at the hotel, she started to dig immediately to figure out where to go from there. If Jesse Douglas was to be her target, she thought Denmark would be her destination. Intending to find out a little more about his work, s, habits, and probably home address and phone number, she fudged her FBI credentials just enough to get into data records. She got a bit of a surprise. Douglas, it turned out, wasn’t at the embassy -- and wasn’t scheduled to be back for a year.

The problem needed some careful thought. She needed information. Was he still in Denmark? If not, where, doing what? But her approach had to be a careful one. Her ability to finagle her own FBI credentials enough to manipulate web security was limited, and even if she could manage it, it was a time bomb. Do one too many things, and she’d be noticed. But she knew a few other agents’ credentials. Because you’re a little sleazy, Alex. It’s Alison, or it will be. And yes. I am. Doesn’t matter. But all her efforts, in the end, resulted in no facts about where Douglas was. He wasn’t, she was pretty sure, in either Denmark or the US, but where exactly he’d gone, she couldn’t nail down. But based on his family connections and his habits in the past, she could make a pretty good guess: Scotland. She’d chosen her destination, and now she moved on to her most important agenda item while she was here in --”burying” Alexia, and bringing Alison to life. “Alison, Alison, Alison. Hi, my name is Alison Hepburn.” She rehearsed the name over and over and tried to decide whether Alison would have a nickname. She’d no longer be an Alex, and that might be hard, but if someone called out “Alex” and she mistakenly answered, she could laugh it off and say she thought they said Ali. And if she accidentally started to write Alexandra for her name, she could pull it out if she ed in time without much of a flub -- the same being true of Hepburn and Heylens. Alison wasn’t as wealthy as Alexis, but she had a couple credit cards and some cash, and a little of the B-grade tech wizardry the Bureau had taught was sufficient to siphon a little extra from Alexia before she was completely submerged. Alexandra Heylens had money saved, too, but Ali wasn’t stupid enough to try to tap that. Her port wasn’t as impressive either, but she’d traveled straight from Chicago -- rather than a possibly suspicious flight from Mexico -- and she shouldn’t set off any inner alarms in the minds of British officials. Likely, she’d right through the line without being stopped at all. She made plans to check Ms. Simons out of Les Herbes Folles, and check Alison into the Kyriad Roissy -- a little farther from the airport, still four stars but much

more within the budget of a nice girl like Alison. Of course, there was more she’d need to do. Make connections, get weapons. But all that would have to wait until she was set in Scotland and had found her prey. Satisfied, she settled in for dinner and a good night’s sleep. But then she turned the television on for company, found a US station broadcast via satellite, and saw Dierdre White reporting the news.

* * * The flight from Seattle to Amsterdam, took almost ten hours and turned out to be a great opportunity to catch up on sleep. By the time they arrived, both Jackie and Brian were ready to stand on solid ground, drink some coffee, and eat breakfast. Jackie had researched where to get the best coffee in the airport, so they made their way to Douwe Egberts Café in the departure lounge. They also got hot croissants, cheese, and fruit, mindful that if they wanted to enjoy their belated honeymoon, they needed to stay healthy. Contented, they sat side by side at a counter-like table, ate and drank, touched each other now and then, and, once, stole a quick kiss. “Let’s see what’s going on in the world,” Jackie said, digging his tablet out of his carry-on. “I’m not sure I want to know,” Brian said. Jackie laughed and started scrolling. His smile faded when he saw a listing for a YouTube video of KRTA news with the headline, “Multi-Agency Federal Sting: Did the Real Crooks Get Away?” Vintner -- or Westergaard as the subtitle said -sneered from the still shot looking ridiculous in an orange prison jumpsuit. Brian must have sensed the change in Jackie’s vibes. “What is it?” He leaned to see the screen. Jackie turned it toward him, and as they silently read the story together he reached for Brian’s hand. Brian squeezed it, then wrapped a protective arm around Jackie’s shoulder. It was, Jackie knew, an automatic action; Brian felt the

need to protect Jackie, but it was because he’d become worried, not Jackie. Looking up out of the corner of his eye, Jackie saw Brian with narrowed eyes and a slight frown -- intensely focused on the article. He returned his attention to the article, which seemed perhaps more wellinformed than it should have been. It ended with “watch this space for more about possible corruption in our most trusted agencies, coming very soon.” Brian turned away and took a deep breath, nostrils flaring slightly, which let Jackie know he was angry. “Did you see what she said about her primary source?” “I did,” Jackie said, staying calm for Brian’s sake. “So much for my anonymity.” “I’m sorry, Brian.” Brian looked at him and tried for a smile. Probably, he was trying to set Jackie’s mind at ease, but Jackie could tell the news article -- especially the way the reporter “outed” him -- had unnerved him. They still held hands, and Jackie maneuvered his to cover Brian’s and then gripped it tight, hoping it would help ground him. “I didn’t tell her all of that,” Brian said. “And I most certainly didn’t tell her ‘more.’” They heard the first call for boarding for their flight to Glasgow, and Brian drained his coffee and pushed his chair back to stand. Jackie closed his notebook and stashed it, and they headed toward the gate. Boarding would have been easy with their first-class tickets, but they gave them up, switching to coach so two sisters, both pregnant, could have the roomier seats up front. They ended up boarding with the crowd, and sitting stuffed into tiny spaces. It wasn’t until after they’d gotten past the very noisy takeoff that Jackie asked. “You didn’t mind, right? I probably should have asked you first.” Brian snorted. “If it wasn’t for your uncle, I never would have flown first class in my entire life, no doubt. And this is less than two hours to Glasgow. And they needed the comfort more than me.”

“But you’re unhappy. Or worried. Is it about the KRTA thing?” “Mmh.” That wasn’t much of a response but it seemed to Jackie that Brian was processing, so he stayed silent. After a long moment, Brian leaned close to him so Jackie could hear but others wouldn’t. “I didn’t tell Deirdre about the FBI agents, Alexandra and Farnsworth, but she had their names. I didn’t blow anybody’s cover, and I kept all the names out of my report except the ones everyone knew about -- Westergaard and Lieb. I didn’t even name the street the house was on, though I think I did say Angelino Heights. I think…” Jackie waited for Brian to finish, but when he didn’t even after they were delivered their cokes by the flight attendant, he asked. “You think what, Brian?” “I think it’s real obvious to anyone even remotely involved that I was Dierdre’s informant.” Jackie didn’t argue, nor even consider asking him why he thought that. Everyone involved in the case would certainly know who she meant by her incautious description. “And,” Brian said, then hesitated. After a deep breath, he started again. “And I think some people might be upset with me.” “Some people?” “Dangerous people.” Jackie sipped his Coke silently for a while, looked out the window at the Netherlands ing below, an unusual patchwork of green, yellow, and brown rectangles, many of them mottled with the white leavings of a ing winter storm. As they neared the coast, the sky turned a deep and infinite blue, and the sea seemed only a slightly grayer shade below. Jackie was enjoying the flight, as usual, but his good mood was now heavily tinged with worry.

Brian’s manner, his presence, seemed a little different lately. Understandably. He’d been snatched off the street at gunpoint and held captive by a histrionic narcissist, and shot while making a dramatic getaway. And, honestly, the events of the weeks leading up to that hadn’t been fun and games either. For the first few days after he got out of the hospital, he’d been remarkably “himself,” stable, and Jackie had been glad to see it. But knowing what he knew about what that kind of trauma can do to a person, he’d had to make a special effort not to go into “waiting” mode -- waiting for the coin to drop, the gears of the psyche to turn and produce some symptoms. It had happened, but the post-traumatic effects had stayed amazingly small scale. The best way Jackie could think of to describe it was that Brian had been acting “a little “off. Now this article. And Brian wasn’t, apparently, letting his fears roll off his shoulders. Of course, if there were dangerous people set to retaliate against him for talking to the press, he was probably wise not to pretend all was well. “So then, who? Vintner’s people?” Brian shook his head. “Not them.” As the plane neared the coast of the British Isles, Jackie noted how different that looked from the land they’d just left, just across the water. Interesting, but he paid it scant attention. He looked at his husband and Dom and saw an effort at outward calm -- and to most eyes, he pulled it off. But knowing him as well as he did, Jackie couldn’t miss the anxiety stewing just under the surface. Jaw clenched a little tighter. Sudden eye movements at unexpected sounds. Shoulders stiff, toe tapping, fidgeting. “Bri,” he said. “You have to tell me how much danger you think you’re in. Maybe we should nix this trip, turn around and go home. Or… what? Talk to me.” “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be mysterious. Just… got my mind working.” The toothy smile he flashed at Jackie seemed playful. Even though it didn’t calm his concerns, Jackie realized it would be best to give

Brian the space he needed. “Mysterious,” he said, batting his eyelashes. “Sounds kind of sexy.” “I am sexy,” Brian said, but the straight face he tried to offer on that pronouncement relaxed into laughter. Jackie enjoyed his smile and quietly said, “I know a man who would definitely agree.” For just a moment as the descent for landing started, Brian studied Jackie’s face, and it seemed to anchor him. He sighed, and his smile sufficed for a thank-you. He sat back to buckle up, then bumped Jackie’s knee with his own. “I’ll tell you all about it later,” he said. “Promise.” The whole visible world was dark gray when they followed Jesse out of the airport, those azure skies he’d seen from the plane hidden by a curtain of irondark clouds. Jackie didn’t much care. True, circumstances were not perfect, and - as always seemed to be the case -- bad things might happen. But still, the dim, cool cityscape that unfolded before him as the car rolled into Glasgow seemed a perfect antidote for Los Angeles.

* * * Alex liked being Alison Hepburn, at least better than Alexia Simons. Alexia’s persona had sharp, jaded edges. She was weary with a world that came too easy for her but never provided enough. Maybe Alex’s trouble with the role was that it reminded her of herself, except Alexia had none of the background, none of the very good reasons Alexandra Heylens had for her bitterness, and instead of being true to herself, she playacted the world-weary ultra-rich bitch, and probably, Alex guessed, the real Alexia drugged herself to sleep at night. But like an ever-bright penny, Alison remained young even in her fifties. Blonde hair fading with age, a little extra padding where it was least attractive -- which incidentally provided a great place to secret her 3D printed gun and dagger -- she had few wrinkles, abundant joie de vivre, and met the definition of “harmless.” Alex had been undercover many times in her FBI career, and just like any method actor, she knew how to sink into a role. This one held every trait exactly

opposite Alexandra, which made it weirdly easier. She assumed the role, enjoyed its benefits, and had no trouble keeping it as she deboarded her Air flight in Glasgow and walked right through immigration and customs with no more reaction from an agent than a quick smile. But she almost lost it when she saw Brian Harrison. The stare she leveled at his back was more than likely uncharacteristic for Alison, and when he turned and saw her, his gaze sharpened. Had he recognized her? She adjusted quickly, and -- seemingly -- went about her business. But she stayed with him and his sweet-looking… partner? Friend? Lover? No, husband. She saw the rings. Interestingly, she’d left Harrison off her list, and he never would have appeared there if she hadn’t watched that news report. ”A person not tied to any of the law enforcement agencies involved, but who played an important role in the investigation…” That’s how Dierdre White described her source. So much for anonymity, Mr. Harrison. As soon as she’d seen that newscast, Harrison’s name appeared like magic on her list. When she saw him in the airport in Glasgow, it started glowing. And when she saw him leave with Jesse Douglas, the name shot past several others to share first place with Mr. State Department Cop himself.

Chapter Four Glasgow, Scotland

Scotland. A new place, an unknown country that held not a single memory for Jackie, no connections at all except a vague story about his father’s mother’s father having hailed from somewhere in the Highlands. A barely ed grandmother telling him that’s where he got his looks. Four days later, he thought maybe it was true. He mentioned his observations as he and Brian strolled toward their next tourist attraction -- the Glasgow Cathedral, also known as St. Mungo’s. “I’ve seen a few people with dark red hair like mine. More common here, maybe, like my grandmother said.” “Yeah, and I --” Brian was interrupted by the need to keep Jackie from falling when he slipped on a crust of ice under a snow patch on the gray stones. “You okay, now?” “Sorry,” Jackie said, shooting a sheepish look over his shoulder. “I didn’t think about ice. A little weird, for a midwestern boy. Guess I just got used to Los Angeles.” “Anybody can slip on ice, Jackie. Don’t put yourself down. I was about to say I’ve noticed a few people who have smiles a bit like yours, too. It’s easy to spot ‘em -- you all brighten up the town like spotlights.” Judging from Brian’s hearty laugh, Jackie figured he must look as flummoxed as he felt after that remark. Brian had kept hold of his hand after saving him from ass-planting on the sidewalk, and now he leaned in for a quick kiss on his cheek. Jackie felt a little hesitant about public affection, even so mild, in a city he knew little about. It did seem like a place where religion was pretty damned important.

What with St. Mungo’s dominating Glasgow for hundreds of years, and on the other hand that violence-minded church reformer John Knox’s statue standing atop the city’s highest hill. But he let Brian hold his hand as they walked anyway, and no one took much notice beyond a couple of vague smiles. One older man in an olive-green kilt seemed to scowl, but it wasn’t at all clear that wasn’t just his habitual expression. It seemed to fit perfectly on his face as if worn in. The Cathedral had been dominating the block since before the year 1300 CE. In the US, relics exist -- remains and stories far more ancient -- but no brick and stone buildings that old still standing and in daily use. As he and Brian walked into its shadow, Jackie was aware of a feeling. Not exactly spooky, or serious; he thought he could only describe it as heavy. Not precise, but the best he could do. Still a “working” place of worship for Glasgow’s Catholics, it had an alternate personality -- the tourist attraction identity Jackie and Brian planned to visit that day. It came complete with tours and an attached museum. Jackie and Brian planned to see that, and -- if the weather didn’t turn too nasty -- when they were done there, they’d walk through the Necropolis one more time. They’d been there that morning, and the bright sky of a clear winter day made the place cheerful. Jackie wasn’t sure how he felt about that. Tombs were not supposed to be cheerful. But while they were getting some lunch at their hotel just across from the Necropolis, clouds had hidden the sun; now it was shrouded by several layers in shades of gray. Winter daylight in Glasgow -- as opposed to a place like Los Angeles -- is always short. With an overcast sky, murky dusk falls even earlier, which meant the Necropolis would close at 4:30 PM. By the time they were done seeing the wonders built by centuries of Roman Catholic riches, it would be a tight window for them to get inside the gates under the wire, and certainly close to dark before they’d make it out. Better ambience for a graveside ramble. “I’ll give you a whole dollar for them,” Brian said. “For what?” “Your thoughts, love. What else?”

Jackie smiled, shook his head. “Does it seem strange to you that a cemetery is, like, a major stop on the Glasgow sight-seeing tour?” Brain wagged his head back and forth as if deliberating before he answered. “I guess not, no. I mean, it’s pretty old, historically significant. And they said people -- Glaswegians -- treat it like a park. The view from --” “ -- from the top of the hill is the best in Glasgow. Yes, I know, even though we didn’t walk up there this morning. You can see the whole city. All the tourist websites say so. Kind of weird, though, if you ask me. Ghosts and all. Also the word ‘Glaswegians’ is interesting.” “Ghosts? Seriously, Jackie? And it’s no different from Seattleites, Bostonians, or Angelinos, right?” Jackie ignored the second comment -- no need to agree with the obvious. About the ghosts, he could tell Brian hadn’t meant Are you speaking seriously. He meant Really, Jackie? You’re silly enough to believe in ghosts? There was an odd note in his voice, though. Jackie didn’t want to think it was falsehood. He knew it wasn’t. Brian wasn’t lying to him, but there was something on his mind he wasn’t talking about. Perhaps the idea of ghosts had brought it up in his thoughts. Brian nudged him with an elbow, watching him with a puzzled look on his face. His mind had wandered again, he realized. He’d think about Brian’s personal phantoms later and try to answer him now. Though Brian had meant the question as a tease, Jackie gave the answer serious thought. He didn’t believe in ghosts, not entirely. But he’d been doing some reading about all the places they’d been so far -- and their resident wraiths and spirits. Their hotel had been built more than a century and a half ago in connection with a famously awful prison that later became more like a halfway house -- still terrible. Ghosts of women and, eerily, children seem to call the place home, according to reports. And Jesse had taken them to Barrowland Ballroom -- the music and dance hall was a famous must-see for tourists. It boasted of more than one ghostly event in its history. Something had once opened its heavy doors. Something was once filmed hovering over the venue’s audience. And so on.

The Necropolis even had a famous vampire legend, and stories about the “white woman.” As Jackie considered that, he supposed they meant “woman in white,” because he was pretty sure most of the women buried there were, indeed, white. “White woman” wouldn’t narrow it down much. He chuckled at having let his thoughts strike off in this rather pointless direction. “What’s funny?” Brian asked. He sounded curious, but Jackie saw the mini-eyeroll, and the way he sucked in his cheek. He was getting frustrated. That was something new -- one of the things he’d noticed about Brian recently, things that had changed. Not only jumpy, he seemed a little less tolerant of uncertainties, and a little less patient. He worked to compensate for it; Jackie could see that. But the effort cost him every time. All these thoughts flitted through Jackie’s thoughts in the split second before he answered. “I just had a ridiculous thought about the ghost they call ‘the white woman.’ You can probably guess why.” He waited, and when he saw the tiny quirk of Brian’s lips that meant he saw the humor, he smiled too, gratified. “But no,” he continued. “I don’t really believe in ghosts. It’s just… I don’t know. Here, where there’s so many centuries of bricks piled up, and the ancient buildings and streets are as busy as Walmart, it’s like the bricks hold some kind of memory of their own. So many of the places feel dark, or weighted. Like you’re breathing in something more than air.” Brian stopped maybe ten feet from St. Mungo’s visitor’s entrance, stepping to the side and pulling Jackie around to meet his gaze. “The one thing I most hoped for on this trip was to get a chance to see you relax and truly enjoy yourself. Like a free man. Free from… all the shit. I know you’re worried about me, though I wish you weren’t. And now… ghosts? Are you enjoying this? It’s your honeymoon.” “Oh, yes!” Jackie said, genuinely surprised. He looked up into Brian’s sea-green gaze, smiling big and laughing lightly. “A few ghosts don’t bother me, Bri! I’ve

loved our time -- our honeymoon -- so far, and I’m looking forward to the rest.” He couldn’t deny that, worries aside, he’d had a lot of fun in Glasgow. It was the first time in his life he’d played tourist. Jesse had been a great host over the first few days. He’d been there to greet them at the airport, took them to their hotel, and made sure they were settled and had what they needed. He’d left them to recuperate for a long afternoon and night, treated them to breakfast at his apartment -- a long subway ride across the city. Then he’d taken them to the Waterloo on Argyle Street -- a gay bar he said he always frequented when he was in town. The people there -- staff and customers alike, seemed like a family. Some knew Jesse, but everyone they spoke or laughed with made them welcome. Jackie felt more relaxed in that crowded, colorful room than most places he could , and he even got a little drunk, which never would have happened if it hadn’t been a safe place. He’d been convinced at the time that all of Scotland would feel that way. But of course, Jackie being who he was, once he’d sobered, he knew it wouldn’t. That realization was reinforced when Jesse called them the next day to say he wouldn’t see them that day. Someone had broken in to his tiny, low-luxe apartment, ransacked some drawers full of paperwork and stole some cash. He had to file reports and such. “Not big-time thieves,” Brian said to Jackie as they shared tea and “biscuits” the next afternoon. “Right,” Jackie agreed. “Why would they have bothered with Jesse’s tiny apartment?” “Hm. Not junkies either. They’d have taken the electronics -- even cooking appliances.” “Who, then? Why?” “I… don’t know. I can’t help but wonder… Well, there’s no point speculating about that. I’m glad he wasn’t home.” “Yeah,” Jackie quipped. “So we should cheer up and celebrate.” Brian gave him a strange look.

Jackie couldn’t interpret it, so he just explained. “We saved his life by keeping him out late drinking at the Waterloo.” The next night they saw Jesse again, had dinner with him at the Roma, where they dined on salad and pizza and washed it down with wine. He continued to be pleasant company, but he had an air of seriousness, and maybe preoccupation, that was different than the carefree air he’d shown them before. “I’ll be leaving you on your own for a few days, if you think you’ll be okay,” Jesse ventured as they mellowed over the last remains of the meal. “Personal business… Taking care of some banking and whatnot for my Aunt Tilly, and I’ve a few minor financial interests of my own. And… tomorrow, the NCA -- that’s National Crime Agency -- wants to see me. It seems they’re worried the apartment break-in has something to do with the Westergaard case.” Brian’s tone seemed sharp as he responded with a question. “Why?” “Well… the only thing I know for sure is that I mentioned I may have seen… someone connected with the case a couple of times, here in Glasgow. I don’t think that alone would do it, though. Must be more. I’ll, uh, let you know if they tell me anything. I should be able to get together with you again in two or three days.” When Jesse mentioned the Westergaard case, Jackie felt a little shock go through him, like recognition. Then, when he mentioned having seen someone, Brian’s shoulders tensed. After Jesse finished his non-answer to Brian’s question, Jackie asked the obvious question. “So are they going to want to talk to Brian too?” “I seriously doubt it,” Jesse said, and made a face that went with the words. “But then, you never know. Unless they ask me directly about Brian, I won’t say anything about him at all, so I guess it depends on what they’ve seen or heard that’s put the case on their minds. They’re police, but they’re specifically geared to organized crime. That means they have all kinds of information sources other agencies might not have, or might be inclined to disregard.” Brian said, “Let’s not worry about maybe, Jack. We’re here on our honeymoon. Enjoying ourselves is job one. Right?”

Brian smiled and tried to look relaxed, but Jackie saw straight through it. Still, he smiled back and gave Brian the obligatory nod of agreement. “That’s right,” Jesse said, smiling. “And you’ve probably spent too much of it with me already. I’ll leave you with a list of places to go, some advice on the city, and you two can kick up your heels for a couple days. I’ll pick you up for the train to Aviemore Thursday morning -- around six so we can get up there with plenty of the day left, if that works for you.” “Sounds like a good plan,” Brian said, and he and Jesse engaged in some winefueled back-slapping, as if they’d shared a private, off-color joke. Jackie privately rolled his eyes. He agreed with Brian -- the plan sounded perfect. But something didn’t feel that way.

* * * Jesse stopped the car he’d rented across the street from their hotel, and they all exchanged farewells. Brian stepped out onto the pavement just as the first few tiny crystals of snow started to fall. Jackie stopped in the empty street and turned his face up to the sky where the flakes materialized out of velvet darkness. A grin like sunshine dawned across his face. The chill tickle of the snow on Brian’s face, the sight of his husband’s smile, the thought of a honeymoon night by the fire in the homey, bygone-days comfort of their accommodations -- it all added up to a gift. Gleaming and alluring in his mind, it swept away the foreboding shadow he’d been trying to hide from Jackie since before they even left Nebraska. He laughed and took Jackie by the hand, pulled him at a trot out of the road, and turned at the hotel door to wave a smiling goodbye to Jesse, who had proven to be a true friend. They turned to each other with kisses as soon as they were in the room, and when they separated to get comfortable, words weren’t necessary. It wasn’t cold, though the room boasted a steady draft -- or maybe it was that ghost Jackie mentioned, a touch of cold from beyond the veil. The thought of him -- it must be a him -- watching silently from the shadows as he made love with Jackie was a sexy idea, tickling his balls a little, and that surprised him, so he was smiling as

he lit the fire already laid in the hearth. Jackie was already stripped of his shirt, shoes, and socks, and had poured Brian a neat half tumbler of a local whisky. Watching him at the fireplace, he asked, “Why the smile, Bri?” But he was smiling, too. So Brian told him, gathering him close in his arms and whispering in his ear, as if afraid the ghost would overhear. “I think your otherworldly spirit friend is here. I think he wants to watch.” “Oh,” Jackie responded, catching on to the game instantly. “Yeah, I see him, he’s at the foot of the bed. I can’t tell if that look on his face is lonely or lascivious.” “Or both.” “Definitely both,” They both chimed, and laughed a little. After a swig from his whisky tumbler, he put it aside and pulled Jackie back in for a kiss. Jackie’s sweet taste pulled at his being, drawing him into both the idea of him and his real, solid, sexy presence. As their kiss turned rhythmic and urgent, he considered possibilities. In the end he decided it wasn’t a night for ropes or a crop. He simply wanted to make love, to fall as deeply into Jackie as flesh would allow and savor him body and soul. Jackie would still want Brian to secure him, but he could do that with his hands and body. And, he thought, the ghost can watch, and that gave him an extra little thrill. “No safewords tonight, Jackie. I only want to make love with you. But if you need -- or want -- a session, tell me.” The words seemed to fan Jackie’s ardor. His breath hitched and he pushed his body tighter up against Brian. Brian responded by taking both Jackie’s hands in his, relishing the soft moan Jackie gave him in return. “No,” Jackie said in a sweet, panted whisper. “No session. Just a good hard fuck and some cuddling.” Brian laughed at his choice of words and hugged him tight.

“I mean, I think we should show the ghost how it’s done, right?” “Hah! You dirty little devil boy, Jackie.” “Guilty --” Brian cut off Jackie’s words with a hard but sweet kiss, trying to put all the love he felt in it, and all the gratitude, too. Because he was thankful -- to Jackie and for Jackie. He knew full well that, as much as he might guard Jackie’s safety and security, Jackie did as much to keep him whole. Besides, if it wasn’t for Jackie, his world would be as empty as it was before. Odd that he hadn’t thought it empty then, but hindsight… Jackie broke the kiss and started working -- almost tearing -- at his clothes. Brian helped him strip them both the rest of the way and for once neither of them worried where the clothes ended up. Still standing by the bed, Brian turned him in his arms and pulled his back up against him, showing his beauty to their ghostly friend. “He’s looking at your beautiful cock, Jack. Let’s stroke it together so he can watch.” He placed Jackie’s hand under his, keeping his other hand secure at his chest. Jackie shivered and started guiding the stroke. “Yes,” he whispered. Brian watched his face. He was looking toward where the ghost stood at the end of the bed, but there was a mirror there too, and maybe he was looking at them. “What do you see, love?” “I see us, but I see him, too. He’s tall, and he’s wearing old-fashioned clothes. He’s undone his jacket, and now he’s working the buttons on his pants. Weird -there’s two rows of them, but I can see something there. I think it’s his cock poking out -- hard.” Jackie’s stroking had stayed steady, but Brian stilled his hand now. “I can see it now, Jackie. He’s stroking himself. He looks really lonely. Let’s lie on the bed, we’ll be closer and he can see us better. He can see the way your cock is leaking. He can watch while we love each other. Maybe he can get on the bed with us.” “Touch,” Jackie said. “He wants to touch us.”

Brian rolled them onto the bed, Jackie on his back and Brian on one elbow beside him. “Close your eyes, love,” he said. “I don’t think he’ll touch you if you can see him.” Jackie gasped, as if that thought shocked his need up a notch -- a sound that went straight to Brian’s cock -- and their ghost’s too. “But doesn’t he want to watch me suck you, Bri? I want to do that. I want to show him.” “Oh,” Brian said, but it came out almost a groan. “I think you’re right, boy.” He moved, propping himself against the headboard, and Jackie positioned himself on hands and knees -- ass in the ghost’s line of sight -- and put his mouth to work on Brian’s straining erection. Brian watched and imagined the ghost watching -- which continued to be a turn on -- until he couldn’t stand it anymore. “Oh, stop, Jackie. I… You do that so well. Your mouth was made for my dick, I think. But so’s your ass, and our friend the ghost is getting way too close to coming. I want him to watch me fuck you before that happens.” He reached for lube and prepped Jackie while he was still on his knees, loving the little sounds Jackie made as he got more and more anxious for Brian’s cock to replace his fingers in his ass. When he’d done enough, he turned Jackie to face the watcher again, and pulled him back to his cock. “Ride me a little,” he said. Jackie slid his sweet, ready hole down over Brian’s cock, moaning, and didn’t stop until there was no farther to go. Brian took Jackie’s hands and placed them on his hips. “Keep them there, and start fucking, boy. Do it the way you want it.” He slid up and down Brian’s cock, not being too gentle but adding a little twist to tap his prostate. “I don’t know what the stranger thinks, love, but I don’t think anyone in the world could be as perfect as you.” Brian’s words were punctuated with sharp breaths and gasps, but it was the best he could do, and he was pretty sure Jackie understood.

“Gods, I love you, Jack. Stop, be still, lie back. I’ll fuck you now, but close your eyes because our friend wants to stroke your cock ‘til you come.” Jackie sighed, “Oh, Bri.” He stopped talking to follow orders. “Yes.” The position was a little awkward for fucking, but Brian made it work. Movements slow and more slight, staying deep most of the time, making almost constantly with Jackie’s gland. Using one hand to hold Jackie and help him move inside him, he slicked the other hand and took hold of Jackie’s prick once again. He watched it -- his hand stroking, the crown getting harder, stretching tight. Precum slipping out and drizzling over the side onto and under his fingers. But every now and then he tore his eyes from the compelling sight to gaze at the ghostly stranger. The man was jealous, but grateful, and if the condition of his cock and the way his own hand moved on it was anything to go by, he was feeling pretty damn good. Silently, he asked the man if he wanted to touch Jackie. He all but felt the weight of the stranger as he knelt at the end of the bed. His own hand felt cold as the stranger’s hand inhabited it. He let the ghost take the lead, and the man set up a different rhythm, more down-stroke, and quick pull upward, then down again. Obligingly, Brian matched that stroke as well as he could with the movements of his cock inside Jackie. “Do you feel him, Jackie?” Brian could barely squeeze words between his heated breaths. “Yes,” Jackie said. “It’s good, Bri. But you, you’re the one. You’re going to make me come.” That didn’t hurt Brian’s ego, and he said. “Good. That’s good, love. Do you want to wait for me? Almost there.” “Yes,” Jackie said, and it was desperate, almost a shout. “Soon. Soon, please!” “Oh yeah,” he said, and he shooed the ghost’s hand away, replacing it on Jackie’s cock with one of Jackie’s own, and using both of his to pull Jackie hard against him, fucking him in earnest. “Now! Let’s do it, Jackie. Come with me now!”

* * * They woke up early in the morning snuggled about as close as two spoons could get. They had plans for a day out, but first they spent some time indoors at the haunted hotel and indulged in sex that didn’t involve a most-likely-imaginary ghostly third. For all its vanilla flavor, though, it was adventurous. Brian, stroking Jackie’s strong morning wood, said, “I think you should put that to use. Fuck me.” Jackie didn’t need too much convincing and for the second time ever, Jackie topped. Sort of. Not really though, as Brian stayed in charge. It was fun, and hot, and Jackie loved it. “Damn good,” Brian said when it was over and they were preparing to share a hot shower. “Yep,” Jackie said. “We should do that again some time.” “Yep. About once every year or two works for me.” Brian had been half teasing, and now he smothered Jackie’s blushing face with kisses. The snow overnight laid down a worn-thin sheet of white, almost bare in places, though a few drifts piled up ankle deep. The city seemed changed by the flimsy cover, as if it hunkered beneath it to sleep or dream, reminded of the hundreds of winters it had already seen. As they made their way to the subway, the old bricks and stones of the city glistened with winter ice, gleaming almost eerily under thick cloud banks. A bit grim, the effect struck Jackie as startlingly beautiful. And Glasgow struck him as a perfect city for ghostly encounters. He grinned and squeezed Brian’s hand. “You say you don’t believe in ghosts, but you sure believed in that guy last night.” Brian laughed too, threw his arm around Jackie’s shoulder, and gave him a teasing shake. “Hey, he was obviously an exception. In a lot of ways. Whoever

heard of a ghost that teases your nipples?” “And strokes your cock.” “While your husband is fucking your fine ass.” They’d arrived at the subway entrance and even in the cold, Jackie didn’t see -or imagine -- any ghosts there, but they weren’t alone. They cut the sex chatter as they walked in, but from there, things got a little strange. Not in a “the spirits are watching” kind of way. In a “Brian’s overly vigilant again,” way. The subway seemed a little less crowded than usual, which made it seem all the stranger that Brian turned in his seat to put his back against two walls and kept up a constant scanning. Not much sight-seeing to do when riding a subway, so Jackie kept his mind off Brian’s apparent nervousness by sending a text to Dr. Holland, who was taking care of Esi and her sister, and who was also supervising his studies at the moment. She knew Jackie was on his honeymoon, so she responded with a surprised, “Jackie!” followed by a smiley face. It seemed out of character for the dignified psychology professor, but it made him feel all the more at ease with her. Esi and her sister were doing fine, which was good news, though something in Jackie still rebelled against the idea that anything at all could be fine in Los Angeles. If he had to judge from Brian’s behavior, he’d think things weren’t fine in Glasgow, either, and it was starting to wear on his own mood -- which had been more than fine earlier, thanks to the ghostly encounter last night and the morning’s delights. When they stepped out of the train car and Brian suddenly flattened him against a pillar as if guarding him from oncoming attack, that just about topped it. Brian stepped away after only a few seconds, mumbling an apology. When he stepped away, Jackie looked to see what the emergency had been, but all he saw was Brian staring at the back of a rapidly retreating woman, roundish and middle-aged with faded blonde hair. His behavior exasperated Jackie. After all, I’m the one with all the past trauma. If I’m not jumpy… He didn’t finish the thought before he realized how wrong -- maybe even selfish -- it was. He reminded himself that what Brian had been through in the last months couldn’t be called anything but trauma, and it could certainly have a

lasting effect. He knew that was happening, instinctually, but he was too wrapped up with Brian for his scholarly self to get a real handle on it. That imbalance on top of Brian’s behavior only made him more exasperated, and he didn’t try to hide it. “What is it, Brian? You act like you’ve seen a ghost for real, or a murder or something.” Brian turned and looked down at him, almost as if just ing where he was and who he was with. “Uh, it’s just… nothing. Let’s grab something to eat on the way to the gardens if we see a place, okay? I’ve got a hardcore appetite this morning. Can’t imagine why.” He shot Jackie a smile that looked sincere, and maybe like it carried a hint of apology. Jackie had no desire to carry on with anything negative, so with a small, private sigh he let go of his pique and smiled back as they started up the stairs. “Oddly enough, I’m hungry too.” When they emerged onto the street, they found a Starbucks right next door. “Tempting,” Jackie said, “but let’s look around for someplace different from what we do at home.” Just next to the Starbucks, The Curler’s Rest promised pub food and atmosphere, but they didn’t open until midday. But cattycorner, they saw a Pret A Manger, which Jackie figured -- applying his two semesters of high school French, was supposed to mean “ready to eat.” “What about there?” Brian gestured in that direction with his chin as he asked. The motion reminded Jackie of Sonny, and that made him smile. “It’s a chain I think. I saw them somewhere -- maybe London? But I’ve never been to one. Looks like coffee and pastries.” Brian stepped off the curb, not waiting for an answer. The coffee was good, the food indeed was ready to eat, but not at all bad, and they sat at a table looking out a window at sidewalk ers-by. Conversation didn’t happen, but when Jackie finished the last of his coffee and was watching Brian wipe something sticky off his chin with his napkin, he was overcome with

a wave of feeling. He bit his lip, then said very quietly, “I love you, Brian.” Brian said nothing, but held Jackie’s gaze. It seemed to Jackie, watching his husband’s eyes, that the words touched him in a way stronger or deeper than usual. When they left the restaurant, appetites sated, a calm silence lay between them that felt to Jackie like trust. The sun came out.

* * * Brian knew his constantly jangling nerves were making him act in ways nobody expected of him -- least of all Jackie. He also thought that with his psychology background, Jackie could probably tell he was having trouble calming his inner watchdog. It had started about a week or so after he got released from the hospital. He was sure it had to do with that day at Vintner’s. Maybe the stress of the weeks before that too, but that day -- he’d been scared shitless the whole time he was there, though he thought he’d done pretty well hiding it. But then there were the gunshots, and the escape, and the run through the tunnel, and Farnsworth, and Alexandra… It all added up to a hell of a terrifying time, and he couldn’t keep the scenes out of his dreams, even his daydreams sometimes. He knew about PTSD, of course, but he didn’t want to think he had it. He didn’t think he had it. He’d ask Jackie about that maybe, later, but the one thing that bothered him more than anything else was that he kept seeing Alexandra out of the corner of his eye. He’d thought he saw her outside the damned Glasgow airport, but the woman looked older and had messy blonde hair, not close-cropped brunette, and he couldn’t really identify why he thought it was her. On the other hand, when she’d glimpsed him, she got a shocked look on her face for just a moment, and quickly found a reason to go the other way. Then, when Jesse was taking them across Glasgow by subway to spend some time at his place, he’d had the same experience -- though the hair was different again, not like Alexandra’s but not the blonde jumble -- and that time, he could have almost sworn Jesse’d spotted her too.

But he didn’t say anything, because Jesse didn’t say anything, and frankly he didn’t quite trust his own mind at the moment. And today, it happened again. And Alexandra was supposed to be dead. He’d checked that out after the first “sighting” in the airport. The State of California had issued a Death Certificate. She’d been cremated in LA by the Cremation Society, per a policy she’d held for fourteen years. Dead. Apparently I’m going a little crazy. Stop it Harrison. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill, as your grandmother used to say. Yes. Whoever I saw just happened to look a little like her. Happens all the time. No. Not like this. Something… Her eyes? Maybe. Maybe not. Probably not. He realized the one thing he’d not done is called on his best skills to find out what, if anything, was going on. The death certificate -- all of that -- could be faked to show up on a superficial internet search. He needed to dig deeper, find out if Alexandra had a recent footprint on the web. He realized there was little he could do with the limited access and equipment he had at the moment; he might even have to wait until he got home. Or maybe he could dig in when he got to London, if it did turn out that’s where he was going next. He’d have to wait for Petey’s call back to know if that would be the plan. Still, the recognition that he could do something to approach the problem calmed his jitters. He took a deep, relieved breath, released it, and gave Jackie what he hoped was a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. In any case, Jackie deserves a honeymoon. I need to not fuck it up. Even though his eyes had been open the whole time, once Brian decided he could safely put all that thinking and worrying aside until such time as he could take some action, he woke up. That’s how it felt, anyway -- like he’d been

walking around half in a dream, and now he plunged refreshingly into reality. Oddly, the world he saw belonged in a fairy tale.

* * * The walk from Pret A Manger to the gardens was short, but interesting. On the corner just across from the gardens, the imposing façade of a former church turned out to be Oran Mor, a rather famous restaurant and club. After they crossed, the gates to the Botanic Gardens stood open in front of them. Delighted, Jackie laughed out loud as he walked through them. They’d entered a winter wonderland. He tugged on Brian’s hand. “Where did all this extra snow come from, d’you suppose?” Brian shook his head. “No clue. Amazing how much frostier it is here, though.” The open area around the gardens might have explained the extra snow, but whatever the cause, it made the midwestern boy in Jackie feel at home. Yet the scene didn’t match any memories of home. Stone benches and posts wore decorations of mounded white caps and frosted protrusions. They held hands along the path -- there weren’t many winter visitors, but they’d forgotten to worry about them anyway. Before long, the Kibble Palace came into view. The name Kibble had nothing to do with dog food, Jackie had learned inside the glass houses; it was named after the wealthy nobleman who’d first had it constructed in another place and time. The glass-enclosed structure had been moved to Glasgow and, after a patchwork history and many renovations and additions, it now made up the centerpiece of the city’s botanic gardens. From outside, the glass sparkled as a high-altitude wind drove clouds out of the sun’s path. They met the tropics as soon as they walked in, with a large-leafed vine covering an interior front wall, and then a central koi pond with an island populated by a palm and some ferns, grasses, and ground covers. All shades of green. Flower boxes full of color marked the way into domed space riotously green with palms, vines, bromeliads, and what-else Jackie didn’t know. Honestly it reminded him of Los Angeles -- a feeling underscored when, in another greenhouse, they walked through arid rooms filled with cacti and such. Nevertheless, there was

something a little magical about walking through summer -- lush or sparse -- in the middle of a snow-laden park, and Jackie loved it. While they ed through another, smaller hall filled with palms, cyclamens, and begonias, Brian said, “Reminds me of Hawaii -- Luki and Sonny’s wedding!” “Where we first met.” “Right. And where Luki would have skinned me alive if I hadn’t realized how young you were and backed right off.” “Uh… I didn’t know you’d…” “No fear, love. I knew there was something special about you the moment I caught sight of you, but I never had any inappropriate intentions for you as a sixteen-year-old. It was just -- Well, I couldn’t quite figure out what it was about you that pulled at me that day. I never forgot you, though. And you’d best bet when Luki called me for help finding you, I jumped. I would have done anything.” “You just about did.” Jackie chuckled, avoiding his own worst memories of the time, but thinking about what he’d read in Luki’s case files. Brian smiled in return and put an arm around Jackie for a quick, chaste hug. “I don’t know about that, but it’s a sure bet I was way beyond my comfort zone at the time.” At another time and place, thinking about that trauma-filled time in his life would have had Jackie buzzing and needing to call on hard-won skills to calm himself. That didn’t happen here, and though he checked to see if he could detect a return of Brian’s earlier nervousness, he couldn’t. Brian seemed much more his usual calm and confident self. That was good, and Jackie wandered through the hours of this sweet, easy morning, for once simply enjoying his life. He didn’t start feeling uneasy about their safety in Glasgow until they walked from there, all bundled up in coats, hats, and gloves, to the River Clyde in Glasgow Green.

At first, they strolled along a path lined with bushes trimmed to perfect pyramids. It looked a little Christmassy, which was nice, and Jackie tried to keep the mood light. “I can just imagine the fun Soldier and Bear would have here. They both love to play in the snow. And with all that fur neither one of them would even feel the cold.” “And they’d love pissing on all these perfect little trees and things.” Jackie laughed. “Right.” But formal gardens weren’t really Jackie’s thing. He liked his open landscape a little wild. And then a warmish breeze wafted in, and the snow started looking pretty tired. Probably, right along the river, it never had been as covered with snow as near the greenhouses. By the time they got to the path along the river with its regimented safety rail, only patches of snow dotted the drab winter brush along the bank. It could have been a fine walk, he supposed, but it had gotten too warm for all their clothes, and hidden patches of melting ice made the walking a little tricky. Then there was a final straw on the camel’s back so to speak: Jackie couldn’t help but notice among the generally dreary colors, the bright lifesaver rings everywhere, all along the iron fence -- and even lifeboat stations. His smile had long since faded, and now his thinking veered toward the morbid. “So, do you suppose people drown in the Clyde an awful lot?” Brian, naturally, didn’t know the answer. Jackie mentioned that he hadn’t seen such precautions on any other river or waterfront, and at first Brian ignored him. “Have you?” Jackie asked. “What?” “Seen lifesavers and lifeboats lining other rivers.”

“Uh… no, I don’t think so.” “The Thames?” “Um… not that I .” “Well, I just think it’s weird. Don’t you?” “Not so much, no. It’s just… what it is. I’m not sure why you’re letting it bother you. We’re on our honeymoon, right? Supposed to be a good time.” “Sorry,” Jackie said. But the truth was he felt uneasy. Possibly the precautions against drowning just gave him a focus for rising anxiety -- he didn’t think either he or Brian was in danger of drowning. Part of the reason he felt anxious? Brian had started that eye-twitching jumpiness again. And he realized rather suddenly that he couldn’t fully write Brian’s nerves off; sometimes during this trip he had felt like they were being watched. Brian came to a stop, and pulled Jackie back to him. He put both his arms around him and forehead-to-forehead said, “I love you, Jackie. This walk isn’t fun anymore. Let’s get gussied up and go clubbing.”

Chapter Five

When they got back to the hotel, Jackie sat down on the bed, yawned, and went horizontal. Brian smiled, surprised. Jackie wasn’t much of a napper. But his eyes had already closed, and within seconds, his breathing settled into the even, easy rhythm of sleep. “Hmm,” Brian mumbled. “Not such a bad idea.” He looked around the room, thought it was really an example of perfect comfort -- Marley would have loved it. After a sigh, he laid his body out next to Jackie’s, careful not to bounce the bed too much and wake him. He snuggled up close, though, and took in a deep draft of Jackie’s scent. Contentment came as a sweet respite for his cares, and he slept, too. He dreamed, though. Faces came at him out of a driving snow as he disembarked from a subway car directly onto a slender, slippery river dock. He slipped and had the presence of mind to think he could grab a lifesaver ring on the way into the water. He reached for it, but Jackie’s face looking up at him from the murky river depths distracted him and he missed the grab. Instead of falling in, he ended with his feet dangling in the cold water. Orange koi nipped at his feet and swam amongst a mass of dark red weeds, but that, he saw, was Jackie’s hair. And that, he then saw, was blood. He wanted to cry out, but he somehow knew that he had to choose: he could either call Jackie’s name, or go in after him. He slipped off the dock. No water, no air, only darkness and Brian with his much-trusted Colt in his hand, loaded and ready to fire. He knew Jackie was in the darkness with him, and someone else, someone who had Jackie in her evil embrace. He heard them, felt the shockwaves of their struggle, smelled bitter vengeance and fear and sweat and blood. But he couldn’t see them.

He had one chance to save Jackie and himself: he must shoot this raging demon. In darkness. He closed his eyes, aimed for the blackest center of night, and fired. The dark scattered in an explosion of light, sound, and movement. Jackie’s voice, “Fuck! Brian!” It took two seconds for Brian’s mind to leave the dark dream behind and wake up to the bright light, smoke, and heat in the hotel room. Bright light mostly from the afternoon sun streaming all friendly-like through the west-facing window. Smoke and heat from the not-so-friendly flames consuming the shattered remains of the door and licking their way up the door frame and out into the wall. Jackie had already filled the decorative pitcher that usually sat on the mantle, and as Brian watched he threw the water onto the flames. The flames on a couple of the pieces of wood farthest into the room transformed instantly to smoke and steam, but closer to the door, the flames flared and snapped angrily at the water’s touch. It wasn’t hard for Brian to see why. A broken bottle lay on the floor just outside the door flame. Undoubtedly, and horrifyingly, someone had seen fit to blast their door with a Molotov cocktail. Questions like who and why flashed in his mind, every bit as loud as the fire alarm now blaring through the building, but he overwhelmed them with a silent shout: Later! “No! Jackie, wait.” He took all the heavy, winter-night covers off the bed in one swift grab and stepped in front of Jackie to stop him throwing another pitcher of water. He threw the covers over the flames on the ground, smothering the flames. “Now the water, Jackie. Soak those.” As soon as Jackie dumped the water he sent him out the door with an order in his most commanding voice. “Out of the building, now.”

He followed Jackie out the door and came face to face with a young hotel employee who was grappling with a fire extinguisher he clearly didn’t know how to handle. He took it from him by main force, told him to run, and pulled the pin. He flung a quick coating of dry chemical on the wall and lintel, then took a step back for a better aim at the base of the flames. And couldn’t stop a shout as sharp pain lanced up his leg from the sole of his heel. He didn’t stop spraying chemical, and he didn’t wonder what had happened to his foot. He’d stepped on glass from the bottle. Which was when he realized he was barefoot. Suddenly Jesse was there. “Trade me,” he said, ripping the extinguisher from Brian’s hands and shoving his long winter coat at him. Which was when he realized he was also damn near bare-assed. Following that realization it also dawned on him he’d sent Jackie out into the cold practically naked, too. He looked down the hall, now crowded with guests trying frantically to get out and firefighters trying to get in without trampling them. Jackie was there, at the end of the hall, looking back at him in his royal blue bikini briefs and tank. Brian made his way to him, torn between being angry that Jackie hadn’t left, and thankful he could cover him in Jesse’s coat before he went out into the cold. He made his way as fast as he could toward his shell-shocked but beautiful husband, wrapped Jesse’s coat around him, and turned him around, gently urging him ahead until they made it down and out of the building. “Bri, you’re freezing,” Jackie said. “Whose coat? Take it.” The sentences didn’t go together, but Brian had no trouble following. “No, keep it. The fire’s all but out -- we won’t be out here long. It’s Jesse’s. Didn’t you see him?” “No, I --” He stopped when one of the firefighters who’d stayed with the truck tossed

Brian an emergency blanket. Brian didn’t have a chance to thank her, but he was immediately warm… warmer… and enormously grateful. His cut heel bled everywhere he stepped, but he didn’t feel that pain so much as the pain of freezing toes. He supposed Jackie was having the same problem. “You can stand on my feet,” he said, and when Jackie looked at him blankly, added, “because the ground is so cold.” Jackie looked confused, but then comprehension dawned across his face, and maybe he would have done it, but the lobby door was opened and they were ushered inside along with too damn many other guests and employees of the hotel. Shortly, the crowd was addressed by a sweating, middle-aged fireman with a brogue so thick Brian wouldn’t have understood it at all if he hadn’t been listening to Scots talk for the last few days. He was still sure he missed some stuff, but what it boiled down to was the building was safe, all but the rooms along the hall where the fire had burned. Most of the crowd dispersed then -- there were only five rooms that couldn’t be used. The hotel manager herded the guests from those rooms, including Jackie and Brian, to the desk, and started looking for rooms to put them in. Before it was their turn, a medic insisted on taking a look at Brian’s foot and tending it. “Go to A&E for a more thorough looksee and some stitches. This will keep you from bleeding all over the hotel carpet in the meanwhile.” Brian didn’t say anything -- he had other things on his mind. But Jackie said, “Thanks. We appreciate it,” and gave Brian a remonstrative look. Before he could respond or make amends, the police pulled them in for statements. A female cop took Jackie to a tiny office marked security. A gruff, bearded man wearing a black uniform and a cap with a checkered beckoned Brian to a small room off the manager’s office. He pointed to a chair across the table, then pulled off his hat with its checkered band and set it aside as he sat down as well. “Sergeant Baran,” he said, which sufficed for introduction. “You’re Brian Harrison. American.”

It wasn’t a question, but he looked up apparently for confirmation, so Brian nodded. “The fire was at your room. What do you know about it?” “I know someone threw a Molotov at the door.” “You do, huh. And how do you know that? Experience?” “Broken bottle.” Brian decided to ignore the second part of the question, and ask one of his own. “What do you know about the fire?” The sergeant leveled an incredulous look at him. “I’m askin’. Ye’re doin’ the answers. Got it mate?” Brian almost smiled, but he stopped himself. He kept his cool for the rest of the interview, doing a double take only once. “What do you know about this big fella dressed in black some folks saw in the lobby?” Brian knew nothing and he said so, but the question disturbed him. The image that came to mind immediately on hearing the description was of Blackjack Farnsworth in the tunnel giving Brian instructions and telling him he was going after Alexandra. He’d noted a detail at the time, but it just now -- as he recalled it -- occurred to him how odd it was. He’d rolled his eyes. What that meant it was impossible to say, though, and Brian put it down to his state of mind, the intense situation, and his recent “sightings” of Alexandra. The interview went along quickly and was far from intense. When it was over, Brian gave the police his phone number and added Jesse as a in Scotland, Petra Shiells in London, and Luki in the US. He wasn’t sure where he’d be, and he definitely wanted them to be able to him if they had info he should know. And he wanted everyone to know where to start looking if they suddenly couldn’t find him or -- more importantly -- Jackie.

* * * When Brian Harrison spotted her at the airport, it had taken Alex so much by surprise that she’d forgotten to stay sunk into her role as Alison. For a moment, disguised or not, she had likely worn a very Alexandra face. The encounter ed in an instant, and she was sure that immediately following the look of recognition on his face, he fell into self-doubt. Why, she didn’t know, but it didn’t matter. His lack of certainty surely played in her favor. But then Jesse Douglas had seen her -- and Harrison a second time -- on the subway. She’d seen a flash of confusion on Douglas’s face when their eyes locked -- another slip on her part to let that happen. He hadn’t gotten overexcited about it that she could see, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t keyed in to her identity. He seemed the sort that would have a talent for not showing his true face. And she wasn’t naïve enough to think that just because he’d pissed off his bosses, he couldn’t get the attention of his people at State. She’d done her research. He’d been around a long time, and although he occasionally went against the current, he’d managed to keep the favor of his direct superiors. He could get people involved. People she didn’t want to meet. Harrison had no influence at all with law enforcement at all, or he’d never have been put on the line like he was with Vintner -- and then arrested for his trouble. Charges got dropped like hot coals as soon as it became clear that a trial would dump all sorts of things out into the open. Department shake-ups wouldn’t be far behind, and of course nobody at the top wanted that. But if Harrison had been a LEO, or someone with clout, no charges would ever have been brought. Alex felt a little bit sorry for him, young and stupid as he was. If he hadn’t gone and blabbed to the press… That ship has sailed Alexandra. He’s on your list, and he deserves it. To the point, he was without muscle inside any department -- unless you could count Douglas himself. But… he was friends with -- no make that family, now that he’d married -- Luki Vasquez. Rumor had it that man had friends in agency circles, and he had people working for him who were also connected, or who had skills. They could provide information. Or protection, given time. She wanted her revenge, and frankly she’d made such a mess of her life that she’d be willing to give it up in the end if that’s what it took. But she’d avoid

suicide, if she could. She wanted time to enjoy the fruits of her labor. So keep Vasquez’s nephew out of it, if you can. Might already be too late, thanks to the hired help. If she were honest with herself -- something she no longer strove for -- she knew she couldn’t blame her hirelings. Jennings, a hard-ass bitch who led the crew she’d hired with the cash she’d squirreled away after selling her weapons -- had proposed the Molotov idea -- a way to flush out any hidden protection hanging around her targets. But it was Alex who gave the plan the green light. Well, no more of that. From now on, the redhead is safe. Likely that would mean getting Harrison away from him… A phone rang, cutting into her thoughts. Surprising, because who would call her? But of course it was Jennings. She’d given her the number to one of her burner phones -- albeit with instructions only to call if there was something she absolutely needed to know. Which meant she’d better pick up. “They’re at the train station,” Jennings said. “All three of them. On the platform for the train going north.” It made sense. Jesse had family connections in Aviemore -- an aunt, if Alex ed right. He visited every year at least once. Her first thought, hearing the trio were leaving Glasgow was that it created complications. But then she ed how empty those lands outside of Aviemore were. How shadowed with trees and hills. And it was winter -- which meant long nights and the cover of darkness. “Follow them,” she said. “Let me know where they go. We’ll meet up north.” “Yes, ma’am. We’ll be happy to do as you ask, but we will need more… resources, shall we say.” This dickering about compensation bothered Alex. Working a case for the FBI never required it, and it wasted time. But she wasn’t FBI, she was rogue -worse, really, an outlaw. And this mission was her own, start to finish. She’d have to pay for it.

“Fine,” she said. Three minutes later they’d reached an agreement on funds, and Alex hung up without saying goodbye. The rudeness was meant as a little barb, which made her feel better. She didn’t like Jennings or her boys. She needed them. But if all went well in the Cairngorms, that wouldn’t be the case for long.

* * * The hotel came up short two rooms for the displaced guests. Jesse offered to share his place for the night -- and since they all planned to leave in the morning, heading north to the Cairngorms, Brian and Jackie accepted and refused the hotel’s offer to find them another place. Jesse’s apartment provided a sharp contrast to the faded antique elegance Brian had come to expect during the short time they’d been in Glasgow. On the tenth floor in a 21st century high-rise off Blackfriar’s Road, it was all sharp angles and clean lines inside and out. Its table and chairs had been comfortable enough for the three of them the first time he and Jackie had visited, when they’d shared a meal and a bottle of wine. But with only one bed and no sofa, Brian figured sleeping arrangements might be a little crowded. It turned out he was wrong. The bed was huge -- plenty of room for three men even though two of them had more than a little height and muscle. Jesse made the obligatory offer to sleep on the floor, but it seemed foolish. “Kind of pointless,” Jackie said. “All three of us and two dogs could all sleep in that bed.” Brian and Jesse both wanted Jackie in the middle simply because he took up less space, so it seemed strategically sound. “It’s way easier for me to get in and out of the bed with one leg if I’m on the outside.” Jesse -- innocently -- said, “One of us will help you.” “I don’t want help. I want to sleep on the outside.”

Brian accepted that high-toned statement as a reminder of two ultimate truths in his life: First, a one-legged man can put his foot down as hard as anyone else. And, for him, anyway, being the Dom didn’t always translate to being in charge. Jesse seemed to pick up on who was going to win any argument that might develop so they climbed into the bed to watch Moulin Rouge, with Brian in the middle holding a huge bowl of popcorn. They all ed in on “Totawy awone” when the time came, and they all cried during “Come What May.” By the time the movie was over, Jesse and Jackie had both fallen asleep, and Brian felt more alone than he’d felt in years. For a time, he wished he smoked cigarettes, because it seemed like it would be the perfect time to go out on Jesse’s ittedly icy balcony and puff away his loneliness in the dark. Instead, he bent himself in odd contortions in order to get out of the bed without crawling over either his husband or his friend and rifled through Jesse’s kitchen until he found a bottle of Scotch. He took a half-filled tumbler of it to the balcony door, slid it open, took a single frigid breath, and slid it shut again. Through the glass, he watched the twinkle and blur of building and traffic lights in the city for a quick minute, then turned around and contemplated the sleeping men. Sexy thoughts wormed into his brain. Three was not in impossibility for him -he’d done it before and it had been hot. But… sharing Jackie? Nope. And Jackie wouldn’t want to, either. Well… He ed Jackie’s response to their ghostly voyeur. But in the end, it wasn’t any ideas about sex that sent him back under the covers between Jesse and Jackie. It was his butt, which got hella cold standing next to the thin glass of the slider. He downed his shot and then climbed back into the heavenly warmth, snugged up to Jackie, and fell asleep. And woke himself up in dawn’s early light, shouting. “Fuck,” said Jesse as he stumbled out of the bed.

“Bri! Brian, stop yelling.” Jackie smoothed Brian’s hair back not too gently. “Everything’s okay. You’re dreaming.” Brian wasn’t dreaming, not anymore, but still he coughed and spluttered before managing to form intelligible words. “I’m sorry. Go back to sleep. I’ll be quiet.” Intelligible, not necessarily intelligent. Jesse was already in the kitchen making coffee, and he burst out with a laugh that Brian was pretty sure could fit the description, “sardonic.” “You go back to sleep if you want,” Jackie said. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to sleep again this week. What were you dreaming about?” “I… I don’t know.” The dream hovered right there in his mind, but as if it hid behind a screen. “Did I say anything?” “About five times,” Jesse said, not sounding friendly. Jackie, the traitor, laughed. “You said, ‘It’s her.’” “Hm. Wonder…” But wondering didn’t help, and neither did really wanting to . He couldn’t, and there was no going back to sleep as the tiny apartment had now become a hive of activity, so he got up and went for a piss. At the sink for a quick wash and brush, he glanced in the mirror, and that’s when he saw it. The face in his dream. It’s her. And he knew. “It’s her,” he said too loudly back in the living room. Both Jesse and Jackie turned to him looking surprised -- and not in a good way. Neither said anything. “I thought I was seeing things. Seeing Alexandra. Imagining Alexandra. But I wasn’t imagining things. It’s her.” “You’ve been seeing Alexandra?” Jesse’s question sounded more urgent than Brian thought it should, until he noticed the emphasis on the first word, and realized the word that was missing was “too.”

“Yeah. Several times. And… well, you know. Trauma and all that. I just thought my brain was playing tricks.” “In the subway the first night you guys were here,” Jesse said. It wasn’t a question. “Outside the club the other night --” “And by the hotel after the fire.” “I told them I saw her -- the police -- both times I got questioned. They said it was impossible. Checked it out, assured me she was dead. I didn’t think I was cracking, but it was damned mystifying.” Jackie put eggs and sausages and toast on the table. “Come get some breakfast, and tell us what you mean, Brian. Why are you sure it’s her, when you didn’t think so before?’” Brian came to the table and started to eat, thinking hard. “So?” Jesse asked, reminding Brian to answer. Brian shook his head. “I wish I could tell you, but I don’t know.” Jackie had already emptied his coffee cup, and he got up to refill it. He topped off Jesse’s cup too, and then started to do Brian’s. He stopped suddenly and gave Brian a tilted-head quizzical look, brows drawn together. “You don’t know… Then again, why are you sure it was her? And by ‘her’ I suppose you mean that FBI agent who ran away that night in LA?” “Yes, thank you,” Brian said, feeling a little peeved. “I would like a warm-up.” “Oh, sorry, Bri. Distracted.” While Jackie filled his cup, set the pot back on the warmer and came back to the table, Brian didn’t say anything more. When Jackie sat down again, he looked at Brian, started to say something, then just shook his head and started to eat. Obviously, he was annoyed with Brian, which didn’t happen all that often. But then, Brian didn’t usually waffle about things and get all caught up trying to figure out his dreams. Still, maybe he could explain a little better. He finished off a sausage and gave it his best shot.

“I thought I saw Alexandra several times. But the sightings were… sudden, and she was gone the next time I looked. Also, it never really looked like her -- I mean her body… she looked kind of… out of shape, older, different hair, and not exactly the same the next time. And… well, I’ve been a little nervous I guess you could say, since the whole mess that night… Vintner, getting shot, all the crazy that happened in the tunnel --” “Almost dying,” Brian and Jesse said together. “Yeah,” Brian said. “That. So I’ve been jumpy --” “Noticed.” “That’s not helping, Jackson!” “Sorry, Bri.” Jackie’s chagrinned smile said he meant the apology. “I’ve just been worried.” Brian sighed. “It’s understandable, I guess, and I’m sorry I snapped. Anyway, the clincher for the ‘it’s not Alexandra’ argument should be the death certificate, I suppose.” “She’s dead?” Jackie’s face was screwed up like he just couldn’t believe he was hearing something that crazy. Jesse intervened. “Hold up a minute, Jackie. Let Brian finish. I think he’s going somewhere with this.” He stood and started ferrying dishes to the sink. Brian sighed and wagged his head back and forth. “Truth is, I don’t know for sure where I’m going with it. There’s a death certificate on the web, and a few other things. But… it’s her. I know it. And I’m going to prove it. She’s wanted, big time, so if I can show it’s her and I get that info to the right people, that will take care of any… threat.” “Okay,” Jesse said. “Count me in. But how are you planning to do that? Snatch her wig off?” Brian laughed. “It’s an idea. Obviously though, I have to show she isn’t dead, to start with. I just need some better computing power, and I’ll bet I can do that.”

Nobody said anything, the only sounds the clink and clank of dishes as Jesse loaded them into the dishwasher. Jackie stayed just about as silent as Brian had ever seen him, and he’d carefully averted his eyes. Finally, eyes still downcast, facial expression carefully blank, he said, in a voice so quiet and toneless it could only be hiding emotion, he said, “Yeah. That’s what we came to Scotland for.” Breaking the moments of dead silence that followed, Brian touched Jackie’s hand. “No, love. You’re right. We’re here for our honeymoon, and I’d much rather focus on that. But… fuck. Someone threw a Molotov at our hotel room door. We can’t ignore it.” “The police…” Jackie let that trail off, and it was obvious to Brian he didn’t really think letting the police handle it and going on with plans, oblivious, was a reasonable solution. But Jesse, sounding deliberately upbeat and positive, once again brought balance back into the discussion. “No, not the police. They mean well. They might even find whoever actually threw the thing, but that surely wasn’t our girl Alexandra, and they won’t even look for her --” “By the way -- sorry for interrupting, but before I forget -- did the police ask you about the ‘big man in black’ that was in the hotel lobby? Did you see him? Sounds to me like that’s who the police were interested in,” “They did ask me, and I pissed the sergeant off by pointing out that if he was in the lobby before and during the time the fire started, chances were, it wasn’t him who launched that Molotov at your door.” “True, but they liked him for something.” “Yeah. He wasn’t the only suspicious-looking person around there though.” “That’s just it, though. If that woman we saw was Alexandra, she wasn’t suspicious. If the police saw her at all she wouldn’t even have made their radar.” “True, but I wasn’t… Well, anyway, back to what to do about it right now. You

could try to find out what you can via your cyber skills, but you were saying you didn’t have a lot of confidence in that given limited resources. Also, you two are supposed to be having a good time.” “We can’t ignore this stuff, Jesse.” That had come from Jackie, and Brian felt relieved. He’d worried that Jackie would want to do just that. He probably felt like nothing ever went the way it was supposed to go in their lives. Frustrating to say the least. “You’re right, Jackie. We none of us can just pretend it isn’t happening. But maybe you guys can still enjoy a little more Scotland and we can pay attention to this at the same time. I’m a US Federal Agent with a fair amount of rank and seniority. Even if I’m on leave, I can still pull a string or two. Let me make some phone calls. See what I can find out.” Jackie seemed visibly to be making an effort to calm himself, and as much as Brian liked to do everything himself, he was grateful for Jesse’s idea. It made a lot of sense, surely. Brian didn’t have access to the kind of electronic resources he needed to go deep into the internet -- and maybe the dark web -- and dig out the truth about Alexandra Heylens. And he didn’t want to ruin Jackie’s -- and his -- honeymoon any more than he already had. “And,” Jesse added, “I think we can still keep our schedule for the trip up to Aviemore. I’ll get things rolling now, and all I’ll need to stay on top of things is a phone.” “We need to be at the station in… what? Two hours?” “More or less, yeah. That’s plenty of time.” Brian looked at Jackie, and it was as if his Dom sense had kicked back in after being AWOL for a while -- quite a relief, really. He took Jackie’s braid in his hand and gave it a tug, playful, but also an effort to cue Jackie to find his usual balance. “What do you think, Jackie? You still want to go up to Aviemore? Are you going to be okay?” Jackie looked up and met Brian’s gaze, gave him a half smile. “Yes, I still want to go, and I’ll try to act like a grownup. That woman… whoever she is, she’s probably dangerous. And it’s not your fault she’s tracking us across Scotland like

some kind of stalker… Anyway, why the hell?” Brian smiled. “You have good reason to be unhappy with the situation. And going on with our plans won’t make everything okay, but I don’t think it will make it worse either. As for why… Probably because I talked to Dierdre White. So, in a way, it is my fault.” “No, Brian. You weren’t wrong to talk to her. She was wrong to make it clear to the entire viewing public that you had, though.” “Maybe she’s not tracking you,” Jesse said. “Maybe it’s me.” “Or both of you,” Jackie said. “I don’t know much about her, but it seems to me that if she’s trying to square up the books or something… well. You both caused her grief, right?” “Well, no use speculating,” Jesse said, drying his hands on a dish towel. “I’ll get started.” Jackie spoke up. “Wait. Will that cause trouble? For you, I mean?” “Possibly. But that’s why I’ll use the phrase, ‘off the record’.” He smiled. “What about asking Luki?” When no one responded, Jackie added, “He has Jude.” Jesse nodded. “That’s not a bad idea.” Brian got out his phone. “I’ll call him.” “Not now,” Jackie said. “Hm?” Brian looked from him to Jesse. Jesse smiled a knowing smile and shook his head. “It’s like, maybe 2:00 AM there,” Jackie said, his tone suggesting Brian should have figured that out for himself. “Oh, yeah. God I can imagine what he’d say. Thanks for saving me from a cold, cold hell, love. Get us to the train on time, Jesse. We’ll go meet your auntie, and

I’ll call Luki later.” And hope it’s not too late. Too late for what, exactly? Not at all sure.

Chapter Six

Brian and Jackie were alone -- though in a crowd -- on the train ride. The cars were full, and Jesse had taken a detour, which in the end landed him a seat a few cars back. Brian wasn’t sure why that messed with his peace of mind, but he guessed it had to do with the fact that he and Jesse were tied into the Alexandra thing together. It all came from the Vintner case. And Jackie was probably right. How could it be anything other than a hunt for revenge. Brian certainly had nothing she could be trying to get back, and he was pretty sure Jesse didn’t either. If Jesse had been with him and Jackie, Brian probably would have wanted to try to brainstorm -- or maybe consider and reconsider everything ad infinitum. He decided instead to utilize the wi-fi and do a rudimentary search for hints of Alexandra’s continued existence in the world. It would be a place to start -soothe his mind to know he wasn’t necessarily losing his mind. And it could give Jesse a jumping off point, something to tell his s. With enough traces, they could try to piece together what she was doing or planning. By no means would all the pieces fall into place -- questions would remain. But hopefully they’d have enough crumbs to follow a trail. Brian didn’t want to involve himself in trying to catch her -- he’d had enough of doing police work without a badge. But as yet her intentions weren’t clear, but an apartment break-in, and especially a hotel fire weren’t harmless. He’d like to at least know law enforcement of some kind had undertaken a real effort to stop… whatever was going on. So questions: who declared her dead? How did she supposedly die? Why didn’t Dierdre White know? Surely she would have checked ordinary things like vital statistics for a detailed series of reports. Is there anything pointing to all that death stuff being a lie? To her activities? Whereabouts? And as an aside, who the hell is this “big man in black?” He sat up, stretched, got out his tablet, and fired it up. He applied due diligence

for the first hour or so, but all he ended up doing was getting repeated hits on the same thing -- the death certificate and record of cremation. The only outlier was a Facebook post where someone said they’d heard Alexandra had died in a motorcycle accident. It had no publicly available comments, and the was private. Hackable, of course, but not on the tablet he’d brought with him. Okay then, what about that accident? California death, so Brian started his search with accident reports in newspapers. Nothing in Los Angeles. If he was a rogue agent on the run, wanted by the FBI, he might have tried to stay in LA area. Easy to get deliberately lost in a county of ten million people. But California sported some other places to hide -- like remote beaches, mountains and, yes, deserts. Brian started searching newspapers for reports of motorcycle accidents in the lower desert, and then in the Mojave. There were lots, but most clearly didn’t involve Alexandra. A couple seemed suspicious, like a wrecked bike near Rimrock that, police had said, “looked like it had been deliberately run into the rocks of a roadside landmark.” He couldn’t find a proper obituary -- not entirely unusual for an FBI agent gone rogue. No list of survivors anywhere. The death notice had found its way onto a social media site called MeWe, and one person had commented, saying they’d ed her mother to offer condolences, but her mother didn’t know. The commenter was clearly incensed, and seemed poised to make a bit of a ruckus about it, but the “long-time friend of the family” who posted the notice -- DF73 - answered and reported that the parents had disowned “Alex” years ago over a political disagreement, so she had left instructions they should not be consulted on her final arrangements. The other commenter said they’d forgotten that -- so maybe the family hostilities, at least, were real. Also interesting, the other commenter expressed their sorrow for DF73’s grief. “I know it’s been a while since you were together, but I’m pretty sure you were one of her best friends, and probably you miss her. I’m sorry you’ve lost her.” Okay. Who is this DF73, then? Trying to think of ways he could find out without much computing power, Brian closed his eyes. And for no reason he could explain, David Farnsworth came to mind. And the memory of the exact look on his face when he’d said he was going after Alexandra.

He’d rolled his eyes. The initials match. He texted what he’d found to Jesse, hoping he could find out what Farnsworth’s middle name was, and if, by chance, he was born in 1973. When he got no response, he figured either Jesse had come up with plenty of info on his own, or else he was sleeping. He wondered if two extra men in his bed had messed with his sleep. Just before they pulled into Aviemore station, Brian thought it was late enough in the morning to call Luki. Just as he took out his phone, though, it buzzed with an incoming call. He glanced at the Caller ID and turned to Jackie in amazement. “It’s Luki.” He took the call. By way of greeting, Luki said, “What’s this about a Molotov thrown at your hotel door?” Luki of course didn’t explain how he knew when Brian asked him, and in his ultra-chill way, he scoffed at Brian’s assertion that it was “probably nothing.” Truthfully, Brian knew as soon as he made the meaningless assertion that it was foolish, and he wondered how he was going to backtrack from there and ask Luki to look for a possibly alive Alexandra Heylens. So, when Luki laid the idea that such an attack was some kind of joke or coincidence to rest with a simple, “right, Brian, and I’m King Kamehameha,” Brian took advantage and fessed up. “Sorry. Just trying to keep you from worrying, but actually… well, there’s something strange going on. You that rogue FBI agent, the woman that was involved with the Vintner thing?” “Shit! You mean we haven’t put the whole mess to rest yet? What now?” From there, Brian explained as best he could about her reported death, the “sightings,” and his theory that the death might have been faked. Luki said he’d get Jude on it, which was no more or less than Brian expected.

“What now,” Jackie asked after the call ended. “We wait,” Brian said, squeezing his hand and giving him a smile to calm his own heart. “And maybe keep our eyes open.”

* * * Jackie found that traveling north through eastern Scotland by train was a great way to see some of the land. As beautiful as it was, as much as certain scenes piqued his curiosity, he also found the experience soporific. That was just as well. Not only had he been woken up too early by Brian’s shouting, he hadn’t slept much the night before to begin with. Three men in the bed kept him up. In more ways than one. He didn’t want to speculate about the potential for a threesome, but he did. Maybe he’d watched too much porn over the years, or something. No, I wasn’t thinking about porn. I was thinking about the way Brian took me through that lovely little encounter with the ghost. That had been hot. And honestly there was something sort of slow-burn about Jesse. Jackie’s interest was piqued, physically. A fact which would have been obvious to Brian if he hadn’t been snoring and dreaming. But fantasy is one thing, reality is a horse of a different color. He smiled at the thought, because it made him think of Kaholo, the only person he knew that regularly used that idiomatic metaphor. Brian was thoroughly engaged with his laptop, but he must have felt Jackie smiling somehow, because he turned to Jackie and asked, “Smiling why?” Jackie thought about explaining, but instead just shook his head and said, “I love you.” It must have been a good enough answer, because Brian smiled back and went back to computing. Jackie brought his speculations about threesomes to a close by telling himself he’d think about it if Brian ever asked, but he didn’t think such an adventure -- or even the discussion -- would come without problems, and he’d

probably steer clear. Complications. Not of course as serious as the complications related to a Molotov and the phantom but probably not dead rogue, FBI agent. Jackie sighed and snuggled down into his seat; worries of all kinds fell away as he laid his head back and closed his eyes. Sleep came quickly with the low hum, slightly rhythmic sound of the electrified locomotive pulling the train over the rails. He woke as the train slowed coming into Perth, where their route became the Highland Main Line. They had a few minutes wait, so they went into the station for facilities and to check in with Jesse. “Everything okay with you guys?” Jesse asked. “Yeah,” Jackie said. “Not much can happen on the train, really, right?” Jesse smiled. “Apparently you haven’t watched enough spy movies and anime. Everything happens on the train.” “I did get in touch with Luki,” he said. “Waiting to see what they come up with.” “Yeah, about that. I heard from some folks I ed in the Department. They are looking into something. Seems like there was an interagency meeting about some stolen identities and a rogue FBI agent. But the rogue -- or suspected rogue, I should say -- is only under investigation, and it’s not a woman. I’m waiting for more.” The conversation from there consisted of determination to get into the same car for the rest of the trip if they could, and arrangements to meet in Aviemore station if they couldn’t. They parted to take care of individual business, and when Jackie and Brian boarded, Jesse was nowhere to be seen, so they hadn’t ended up in the same car after all. Not long after that, Brian fell deeply asleep. Jackie watched him sleep, figuring

he must need it and somehow reassured by the steady rise and fall of his chest. When he saw Brian’s eyes moving behind closed lids, he worried that that he might have another nightmare, so he decided to stay awake and be available to wake him if need arose. He gave up, though, and let himself fall asleep again as the train started pulling uphill toward what he’d seen d as “the highest rail elevation in Scotland” at Drumochter Summit. He stayed awake until the train climbed over the hill and slowed for a provincial crossing where the signal and gate were apparently operated by a live human. Hmh. Interesting. But it wasn’t really, and Jackie soon closed his eyes for a trip back to dreamland. But if Jackie dreamed, he didn’t , and when he woke as they pulled into Aviemore, it was to a gentle, if forgetful, peace. He looked first out the window to find the world softened by a thick, fluffy blanket of white. He turned to smile at Brian, but found that his husband slept on despite the sudden lack of motion and the flurry of activity by fellow engers. His eyes were half open and moving, and his skin shone with a light sweat, a look of troubled slumber he’d seen on Brian only once before. That time, he’d woken up with a twenty-four-hour stomach bug. Jackie hoped that wasn’t what was going on here. He suspected it was more likely a result of Brian’s uneasy mind, still struggling with recent trauma, but also now plagued with new worries. Giving it a second thought, he wasn’t sure that was in any way preferable to a need to vomit and get it over with. Years ago, Jackie always woke up frightened, and he asked his therapist for the best way to wake someone from a bad dream -- he wanted to tell Josh and Kaholo. He followed her advice now, calling Brian’s name very softly, then louder, then accompanied by a hand laid gently on his shoulder. Despite Jackie’s care, Brian woke startled and disoriented. He sat straight up, blinking and looking around frantically, his breath coming short and rapid. “Hey, Bri?” Jackie tried to get his attention and calm him. “Everything’s okay, right? We just pulled into Aviemore. Look -- it’s beautiful out there.” Brian at last focused on him. “Jackson,” he said, then looked out the window and nodded.

Jackie let his hand fall from Brian’s shoulder, stroking along his arm on the way down, and Brian responded by grabbing his hand and squeezing. He stood up, but he didn’t let go and he didn’t move to step out into the traffic in the aisle to leave the car. “Bad dreams?” Jackie spoke very quietly, almost into his ear, thinking this wasn’t a conversation Brian would want others to overhear. “Must’ve been,” Brian whispered. “Wish I could . It feels important.” Jackie wasn’t sure it was a good idea to try to help him . Dreams did their most important job during sleep -- sorting through all the crazy input and possibly more important random output from firing neurons and putting the brain in order. But some dreams were different. Sometimes knowing consciously what the subconscious said or hinted or shouted in dreams made a difference. Important, like Brian said. Or even essential, urgent. So half-against his better judgment, Jackie tried a prompt. “Where did you think you were when you woke up?” Brian looked thoughtful for a moment, but then he shook his head. “Fuck if I know.” Fully awake now, Brian had done something Jackie knew he was good at -erasing anything but calm capability from his expression. Jackie didn’t remark on it -- and possibly no one else would have known -- but privately he was pretty sure the casual smile that had accompanied Brian’s dismissive words was as phony as a three-dollar bill.

* * * Aviemore, Scotland

Brian was pretty sure he wasn’t fooling Jackie, but he could see no point in getting stuck in a conversation about his dream or its potential meaning. If he ed, great. Maybe it would help. Meanwhile, it was enough to know what he somehow knew: We’re missing something, and it’s important. Maybe

life or death. He’d keep his eyes open -- as he’d said before -- but he had to act “as if.” As if everything was okay, and anything that didn’t feel okay was just dust in the wind stirred up by the Vintner case. It would settle out. Whatever Alexandra was up to, she’d now brought herself to the serious attention of the police in Glasgow. Or at least their attention should be serious. Through Jesse, she’d landed on the radar at the US State Department. And after his phone conversation that afternoon, Brian was sure the machinery of Vasquez Inc was on the case as well. No doubt the many vigilant eyes hampered her freedom. He and Jackie could have a sweet time in Aviemore, then -- depending on Shiells, either go home or go to London in three days. He told himself his biggest worry at the moment was that Jackie’s enjoyment of this trip -- which was supposed to be his honeymoon and all about fun and kisses and sex and beauty and wonder -- had been seriously screwed up. He’d have to make up for it. So he put on his best calm-and-pleasant face and got on with the act. It lasted about fifteen minutes, tops. His mind would not let go of the idea that something more needed attention. She’d clearly tracked them, but she couldn’t have been following them around -so she knew their plans. How? He didn’t know. Maybe from the break-in at Jesse’s. Honestly though, how she knew wasn’t the important piece. There was another how that mattered more. Everything else, even the break-in itself, she could have done solo. But the Molotov at the hotel? That wouldn’t have been her. When he’d seen her, she’d been coming from around the corner -on the other side of the street from the hotel. She had to have at least one accomplice. The big guy in black? Brian didn’t think so, but maybe. Jackie said, “Where the hell is Jesse? It’s been fifteen minutes.”

The last time they’d seen Jesse -- at the stop in Perth -- they’d agreed to meet him in the station building at Aviemore. Jesse would call his aunt for a ride, and he’d have her drop them at their cottage for a chance to freshen up. He’d arranged for Brian and Jackie to borrow her truck, so he’d ride with her to pick it up, and in a couple hours he’d bring it to them, they’d get together for a late dinner, and make more plans from there. It couldn’t be taking this long for him to get off the train and into the building. “Good question,” he said aloud. Looking a little impatient, Jackie said, “Did you text him?” “No, but that’s an idea. I’ll do it now.” The text went unanswered, and they waited another five minutes. Jackie stood up and slowly spun, peering around the building. “Wonder where he could be.” “I’ll check the restrooms.” Brian turned to follow through on that, but Jackie called after him. “He’s been in the restroom for like… twenty-something minutes?” Brian half turned, waved a noncommittal hand in the air dismissing Jackie’s question. “Maybe… I don’t know, maybe he got sick… or something.” But, of course, Jesse was not in the restroom, nor was he out front or anywhere else nearby. Brian came back to Jackie, smiled for reassurance’s sake, and suggested they sit for a while he tried again to get through. He repeated his text. He called. He got Jesse’s voice mail and duly left a message. Almost as soon as he hung up, his phone signaled an incoming call. Assuming it was Jesse, Brian opened the connection and said, “Hey, where are you?” Luki said, “Uh… I’m at home at my kitchen table. Are you going to ask me what I’m wearing next?”

It took Brian a number of seconds to realize who was, and who wasn’t, on the phone. “Oh, sorry. I thought you were Jesse. Um… have you found something out?” “Not enough, but yes. More accurately, Jude found out Vital Records never issued that death certificate --” “I knew it,” Brian interrupted. “Of course you did.” “Um…” “I’m sure what you meant was, thank you, Luki, for getting the amazing Jude to solve your mystery. What else would you like to know?” “Well… I’ve been kind of wondering if the FBI doesn’t also know she’s not dead. Is she still listed as wanted? I could probably find out --” “No need. Yes, she’s still listed as wanted, and Katie Sullivan checked with her FBI s. Agents are actively working the case.” “Huh.” “What do you mean, ‘huh’?” “Well,” Brian said, but he sat down in the chair to think about it before continuing. He heard a loud ruckus of dogs barking and boots stomping on the other end of the line. “The dogs sound excited.” “Yeah, Sonny took them for a walk in the woods. They love him. Especially Soldier.” “Damn. Tell that dog I miss him.” “Jealous?” “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am a little.” “Good.”

“What about Marley? He misses me, right?” “I don’t know, but he’s right here on the chair next to me. I’ll ask him. Marley, you miss Brian? He said no, but he sure misses Jackie.” “You ass, Luki.” “Right. Of course they miss you, Brian. But they’re fine. Now you were thinking about something if I’m not mistaken.” “Yes. Don’t you think… I mean if you were working a case, and you saw the person you were tracking was harming or threatening people, wouldn’t you talk to them? Why haven’t these agents who are supposedly working the case been in touch with us or Jesse? Also, do you know if that agent, Farnsworth, is involved?” “I don’t know what agents, and I don’t think I’d better bug Katie any more about this. Maybe Jesse can find out. But yes, I probably would, unless I was pretty sure I could keep them safe. Or else, if I thought they were implicated in some way.” “The whole thing seems weird.” “Uh-huh. And dangerous. Maybe you two should come home.” “Where you could keep Jackie safe?” “Maybe. And you.” Brian chuckled, but there wasn’t much humor in it. “We’ll talk about it. We only have a couple more days here, and I think Jackie’s enchanted already with this town. And I haven’t heard from Shiells yet.” “Okay, listen. I know you’re all grown up, both of you, and not babes in the woods. And Jesse’s there --” “Yeah, no. He’s supposed to be here, but I don’t know where he is. We got off the train -- he was in a different car -- but he hasn’t come in. Half hour, now.” “Fuck.”

“Yeah. I’m going to go to the address he gave us for his Aunt Tilly, and wait to see if he calls or texts. Maybe he ended up missing the train after we saw him in Perth.” “You think? Why wouldn’t he have told you? Doesn’t sound right.” “I know, Luki.” “Right. Handle it, then. Let me talk to Jackson?” Luki sounded a little angry, and Brian couldn’t blame him. Maybe they’d end up leaving town on the next train, but he wasn’t ready to make that decision just yet. After chewing on it, he decided Luki wouldn’t go out of his way to scare Jackie, and he handed over the phone. Brian spent the next few minutes looking everywhere in the station building for anyone who might have anything to do with either the weirdness going on or Jesse. He didn’t expect to find anyone. Mostly, it gave him something to do while avoiding listening to Jackie’s responses to Luki and trying to guess what Luki was saying. Of course, he didn’t see anything meaningful. When Jackie handed him his phone back, he said, “Luki makes me laugh sometimes.” Brian thought it best not to ask why. “I’m going to call us a taxi; we can go to Jesse’s aunt’s house.” “After that?” “I don’t know. You have an idea?” “Let’s just wait and see.”

* * * In the taxi on the way to Aunt Tilly’s house, Brian got a text message from an unknown number. This is Jesse. Sorry for the strange number -- this is a tosser phone.

Mine’s lost. Explanations later. I’ll meet you at my aunt’s house. Things got crazy in Perth and I didn’t catch the train. One deep sigh of relief later, Brian showed Jackie, they exchanged a smile. They didn’t have time to wonder about or discuss what “crazy” might have meant, because they’d arrived at their destination. Taxi paid, bags carried up a brick walkway to a quaint home surrounded by shrubs, trees, mud, and a couple of outbuildings. The front door swung wide, and an energetic woman in her sixties or so greeted them as if they were long lost friends, or even nephews. “Aunt Tilly,” as she insisted they call her, had warm hugs, a kind smile, and tea ready for their arrival. The beverage was strong but perfect from Brian’s point of view -- especially since his came with a dash of Glenfinnan whisky. They didn’t have to do much talking, as it seemed Tilly Armstrong almost never stopped. She told them about her problems with the plumbing, about keeping the mice out of the cottages she owned and rented to tourists -- one of which would be theirs for the next few days -- and several stories about Jesse’s visits as a child. It was clear she was a smart, capable woman who nevertheless appreciated her nephew’s care and help, and that she loved Jesse a great deal. Jackie listened rapt, as if he’d never met a woman quite as enjoyable as this one, but he had of course, and he said so. “Tilly, I have to say you remind me so much of a wonderful friend, Margie. But do you mind if I ask you about your accent. You don’t… forgive my Americanness here, but to me you don’t sound Scottish.” Her smile was broad and bright and echoed the one Jackie wore, which Brian couldn’t look away from once he spotted it. “Ach, aye,” she said. “Is tha’ more like ye’re thinkin’, then?” Jackie burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. Was I rude?” “No, dear, not at all. I don’t sound as Scottish as some an’ I daresay many of us Scots don’t. In my own case, I studied at university in London for six years, then moved for a short time to the States -- my brother, Jesse’s father, thought it was a good idea. It wasn’t, as it happened -- he was a bit of arsehole, my brother -- but I think my speech went awry during those times.”

She kept the conversation going, for sure, and she also kept it light. Brian sat next to Jackie on the small sofa across from the dancing flames in her hearth and relaxed, all the way through, more than he had for a couple days. Problems weren’t gone, but they’d taken a recess. Without thinking about it, he sat back and draped his arm over Jackie’s shoulders, giving him a bit of a hug. He only realized he’d done it when she reacted. But that wasn’t a bad thing. Her reaction was a slow smile. “So my Jesse tells me the two of ye’ve been wed. And don’t ye make a lovely couple? I can’t tell ye how it breaks me to see him alone all these years when I know he’d make someone a fine match.” “Maybe he’s a late bloomer,” Jackie said, smiling back. “And with a year off work he’ll have more time for romance.” Brian’s brain -- without permission -- flitted back to its earlier meanderings about three men in a bed, but he knew that was not at all what Tilly had in mind. And he recognized that he didn’t have it in mind either, except as fantasy. He firmly but kindly told his brain to quit, and the conversation moved on to other things. When the talk slowed and trickled to a stop, recent events and the lack of refreshing sleep over the last forty-eight hours or so caught up to Brian, and he yawned. Twice. Causing Jackie to yawn too. Tilly laughed. “Well, follow me over t’ the cottage, why not? Drive the truck, and ye can keep it wi’ ye til ye go, an’ ye won’t be stuck out there in the wood on your own, aye? Jesse knows the way, and he’ll fetch ye when it’s time. We’ll dine together at the pub.”

* * * Jackie had thought the old truck parked in front of a ramshackle shed at the far end of the muddy drive was a junker. Mostly snow covered, where the metal showed its color was more rust than primer, and it seemed to sit lopsided as if a tire had gone flat. It looked as if it hadn’t moved in months. Come to find out, it had only been weeks, and the tires were fine. One of them, the right front, had ended in a shallow pothole the last time the truck had been parked, thus the crooked look.

It started easily, the defrost and some ice scrapers cleaned it up adequately, and Tilly assured them the heater would warm the cabin nicely “in no time.” The engine was perhaps a little loud or the muffler a little holey, so Tilly had to pitch her words at almost a shout. “Now it’s a manual on the column. That’ll work for ye?” “Sure,” Brian said, smiling. “It’s like the station wagon my mom taught me in. I might be a little rusty, but I’ll try not to grind too much rust off your gears.” “Ach. Not to worry. It might make them better! It was my husband’s, o’ course, an’ I can’t say I’ve taken very good care of her since he ed.” She started to walk over to her car, a boxy little red Ford from maybe the ‘90s, but she turned to shout a loud caution. “, we don’t drive on the wrong side of the road here!” The drive over was uneventful, though Brian did grind gears for the first few shifts, and once in the first of the three miles, they slid a short way toward the shoulder on a patch of ice. Brian let up off the gas and the old truck -- its back end weighted with a load of snow -- picked up traction. When they got to the cabin, he backed it into the little carport. “It’ll be easier if we don’t have to back right onto the road when we leave,” he said. “I suppose you feel like quite the country boy,” Jackie quipped. “Well, no. But my mom would have been proud.” Brian rarely talked about her -- or any of his family. They were a bit homophobic -- Jackie had suspected that but it was confirmed the day he and Brian got married. Still, they did show up for the wedding. Jackie was sure they loved Brian, gay or not, and as far as Jackie could see there was nothing really awful about his growing up years. But for as much as Brian usually talked about them, they might not exist at all. That he mentioned his mom with a smile on his face was like a tiny gift, and it piqued Jackie’s interest. Tentatively, he ventured a question. “That’s who taught you, huh?” “Yeah.” Brian said, putting the truck in first and shutting down the engine. “She worked for a specialty plating shop in Camas. Mostly she was in the office, but

she did local deliveries in their pickup. She brought it home five or six times and took me out in it. Not much different than this one.” That was an interesting revelation, as the picture didn’t quite fit his impression of Brian’s mom. But that had to have been quite a while ago -- more than a decade, and Jackie knew people often changed over a span of years. He wanted to keep the conversation going -- learning about Brian’s family was learning about Brian, and even after they’d been together through hell and high water for two years, his knowing of Brian had huge spaces waiting to be filled in. Before he could gather another question in his mind, though, Brian asked him one. “Who taught you? Sonny? In that old truck of his uncle’s? Jackie smiled. “He wanted to make me drive that. I said no. He did teach me, but in Luki’s car. Way easier.” He sent a deliberately smug, impish look Brian’s way, then added, “I’ve driven a stick a couple of times, though.” Brian, looking equally mischievous, chuckled and said, “Oh! You can drive this one next time we go out.” Jackie laughed too. “No thanks.” Tilly came up to the door brandishing a huge loop of keys, sifted through them while they refreshed greetings, and ushered them through the door. They followed her in and got the grand tour, which took about three minutes. After checking to make sure the hearth was stocked and the range, lights, and plumbing were generally in order, she left them with a smile and a wave, promising to see them at dinner. The cabin bewitched Jackie. Quaint and just cluttered enough to be comfy, he felt its charm resting over him like a blanket and seeping in to quiet his mind within minutes after he and Brian were alone. Brian seemed more restless, though. “There’s a French Press and some coffee here -- medium roast it says. Also a kettle and some teas -- Earl Grey, English Breakfast. A tin of shortbread biscuits, by which they obviously mean cookies.” “No Scotch?” “Not a drop.”

Jackie heard a cupboard close and the fridge motor kick into gear. He leaned around the corner to see what Brian was up to. He was staring into the fridge the way Jackie always did when he got to Luki’s or Kaholo’s -- even if he wasn’t hungry. Jackie smiled, figuring that meant Brian felt at home too, and hopefully he’d be able to relax. “Some eggs in here,” Brian said. And… meat that’s thin and smells like bacon, oatmeal bread. So we’re fixed for breakfast. Want a cup of something? Some cookies?” “Tea, yes. English Breakfast.” “Comin’ right up.” “Thanks, Bri.” “I love you Jackie,” Brian said over the musical sound of the kettle filling. Jackie smiled and picked up his sock-clad feet, curling up in the overstuffed chair. He let his eyes close, peace washing over him. “Speaking of food,” Brian called. “Luki thinks we should go home now. I told him I’d talk to you. He’s right that things are weird… Maybe worse than weird. Dangerous.” That sweet, peaceful feeling that had just washed over Jackie drained right out onto the floor. He got up and went to stand at the window, arms crossed and mouth set. He knew Brian was going to tell him something he didn’t know. Something that would confirm the feeling that something -- or rather someone -bad was stalking them. He already knew it was true, knew he needed to hear whatever Brian knew about this Alexandra, but he didn’t want to know it, didn’t want to listen. The kettle started to whistle by the time Brian gave up waiting for Jackie’s answer. “Jude found out there’s no legit death certificate on Alexandra.” “He told you when you talked to him on the phone at the station? Why did you wait to tell me?” “Uh… Since we’re already here, and we didn’t know where Jesse was, it seemed

like a good idea to stick to our itinerary, but honestly… I guess I didn’t want to face the truth.” “Which is?” “I think he might be right. Maybe we should leave tonight or first thing tomorrow.” He came out bearing two steaming mugs and set one down on the doily-protected side table next to the chair Jackie had been sitting in. “I need you to be safe, Jackie, and I’m not sure you are. Anyway, come sit down and have your tea and --” Brian’s phone started beeping annoyingly in its generic ringtone. Brian put his own tea down and picked it up. “Jesse,” he said into the phone, but looking at Jackie. “You okay?”

Chapter Seven

Brian had wanted to give in to the charm of the tiny country cottage. He found it hard not to. He’d instantly relaxed in the first few minutes he and Jackie were there, and that was the headspace he wanted to cultivate. Not thinking or talking about problems. But -- no getting around it. Their troubles were as real as they come, the threat they faced the kind that couldn’t be ignored. So in the midst of his ramblings about cookies and breakfast and tea, he slipped into the conversation he and Jackie had to have. Should we go home? Damn it hurt to see Jackie’s contentment vanish the moment he spoke the question aloud. But Jackie was a sensible guy. He wouldn’t shut out the important stuff for the sake of the false ease this place and sweet Aunt Tilly coaxed them into. He might be standing with his back turned and arms crossed over his chest -- for security Brian supposed, but he was still listening. “I need you to be safe, Jackie, and I’m not sure you are. Anyway come sit down and have your tea and --” Fucking phone. “Jesse -- you okay?” “Yeah, fine. But we need to talk. Stuff happened --” “Good or bad?” “Both, but good in the end, I think. I’m at Tilly’s now. I’ll come over and talk with you and Jackie, and you can decide for yourself.” “All right. See you in a few. Glad you’re okay.” About a quarter second after Brian pressed “end call,” Jackie pivoted sharply. “What’d he say?”

“He’s coming to tell us what happened. From Tilly’s.” Jackie nodded, but he dropped his gaze. Something about the way his eyelids stayed half closed and he seemed to cave into himself as he stood nudged Brian’s Dom sense. He stepped over to Jackie, took his hands and placed them against his chest, and then wrapped his arms tight around him. Jackie made a small noise in his throat that let him know he’d been more worried, more shaken than he’d let on. This way, with his hands pressed tight between their bodies, held safe, he felt secure enough to let it show -- and maybe let it . But why had he not let it show before? Brian thought he knew the answer, or at least part of it. Because of me. Because I’ve been stressed and jumpy and anxious, constantly shifting back to fear. Which isn’t like me. I guess Vintner and his crowd did more of a number on me than I thought. Jackie had tried to hint a few times that maybe he should seek some counseling. And he was right. Brian made a decision just then that he’d do it as soon as they got settled wherever they were going from here. He hadn’t heard from Petra Shiells yet, so most likely that would be Washington for the immediate future -unless Luki had a job for him somewhere else. He’d have to work on figuring everything out soon, but for now they had more immediate concerns -- deciding if they were safe in Scotland for a few more days near the top of the list. More important -- and more immediate -- holding Jackie so tight he couldn’t feel that any part of him was at loose ends. He wished they had time for a session, but no. This would have to do. “Thanks, Sir.” Jackie’s “Sir” signaled to Brian that Jackie knew exactly what was going on. “You good now, love? We’re going to be all right, you know? We just need to figure out what’s best, now.” Jackie took a deep breath. “Yes. Okay. Thanks for taking a minute. You always know how to help me, Bri. I wish you’d do the same for yourself.” “Therapist?”

“Try it?” “Okay.” He hesitated to say more, but he trusted Jackie to understand -- and to tell him if his thinking was wrong. “But, you know, just within the last couple of hours, I’ve really come to face that my… brain, or emotions, or something… it’s just not working right. And knowing that -- itting it -- I think it helps already. I suppose that’s just wishful thinking.” “Not at all. Awareness of the problem is often half the solution. I’m glad to hear it.” A knock on the door sounded just then, and most likely it was Jesse, but Brian took a few seconds to kiss Jackie soundly and coax a serious smile from him before answering. Once Jesse was in and Jackie had offered him tea, he settled on a hardbacked chair. Brian said, “So… ?” “First my apologies. Stuff was happening pretty quick, and almost right at the beginning my phone was destroyed, so I couldn’t get in touch until things calmed down.” Brian said, “Understood,” but he didn’t see any need to say more. He just wanted Jesse to get on with the explanation. “Back at your hotel, after the fire, I saw a couple of people I thought seemed a little suspicious.” “You didn’t mention that before.” Jackie said. Brian asked, “Did you tell the police?” “No, sorry. I didn’t tell the police because I saw them after the sergeant interviewed me, and besides, I couldn’t really nail down why I’d noticed them, or what it was about them I thought suspicious. I started to tell you guys about them when we were talking, but… same reasons. I didn’t. Sorry. It turns out they are important.” “You saw them again.”

“Right, Brian. Got it in one, as the Brits say. Outside the station in Glasgow. Thing is, it might have been nothing, because people travel from Glasgow to Aviemore all the time -- especially tourists --” “Like us,” Jackie said. “Right,” Jesse flashed a smile, the first since he’d arrived at the cottage. “And I didn’t see them on the train. Honestly, something about them niggled at me a bit, but I knew I was feeling a little paranoid overall, and I just didn’t pay enough attention. Until the third time I saw them. At Perth. When they jumped me.” “What?” Brian’s question -- more of an exclamation really -- went unanswered because his phone started to right. “Hold up,” he said. “This is Petra Shiells, the SI at the Yard.” “Your once and future boss.” Brian nodded, but he was already on the way out of the room, headed for the mud porch at the back of the cottage. He closed the door for the sake of politeness and privacy. “Inspector Shiells, hello.” “Harrison. I’ve got good news. At least I believe it is. The new unit is a definite go, and I’ve got you tentatively lined up for a spot working the cyberintelligence angle. Your field, and the spot is made for you. Literally, that is. I created job specs with you in mind. Sound like a job you want?” Brian had been hoping for the London job, a new start for him and Jackie even if it was going back to an old gig, more or less. And this position Shiells had created for him? Wow. But do I want it? Really? A white-hat hacker, that’s what I’ll be essentially. Not much of a cop.” Regardless of second thoughts and existential questions, though, he needed a job that wasn’t hanging on the generous coat-tails of Luki Vasquez. And he had indicated to the SI before that he would take the job if offered. This isn’t the time for waffling. “Yeah,” he answered. “It does. Certainly, and I’m flattered that you think that highly of my skills.”

“No flattery about it. I’ve seen your work, and heard good things from others who know what you can do -- and not all of those others are related to your husband.” She said that last with a bit of a tone, tongue in cheek maybe. He risked a chuckle in response, then moved the conversation along. “So… tentative at this point. What needs to happen?” “I’ve got get you over here to do an interview -- it’ll be a this time, including the head of Anticorruption. And you’ll need to get your final clearance from Immigration -- the Home Office. I’ve dangled some inquiries over there, and I don’t expect you’ll have problems. And of course, if we get you on here, you’ll need to get your living situation handled, and so forth. Oh, and… You have a spouse now? I imagine you’ll want to clear them to reside in the UK, then.” “Yes, my husband, Jackie Vasquez. He had a student visa when I was there before, for a while, and we hope that will speed things up. He doesn’t want to change schools again right now -- he’s almost done with his Master’s in Forensic Psychology --” “Oh, a budding profiler, is he?” “Yeah, that’s his goal. He said he could look at schools in London for moving on to his doctorate. So right now, whether he comes with me if I’m over there depends on whether he can finish up his Master’s mostly by email and online meets. He’s hopeful that he can.” “All right, then,” Petra said, but she drew it out a bit, as if thoughtful. “Do you… Will you be willing to be away from him if he has to stay there to finish?” “We decided we could manage it if we had to. We hope we don’t. And he really doesn’t want to go back to Los Angeles, so we’re doubling down on that hope.” “Sounds like you’ve got a plan to make it work one way or the other. I knew you would, Brian. You’re always a mite more organized than the average fellow.” Brian could hear a smile in her voice, so he chuckled again.

Petra ed him in a brief but friendly laugh, then got down to business. “Right, then. So how soon can I get you here for the ?” “Well, we’re in Scotland right now, and, uh…” Brian let that trail off. He’d managed to skate on the conflicts he had with the law in LA, but the trouble had followed him overseas. He wasn’t sure he wanted to tell his potential employer about it. How far could her patience and understanding stretch? On the other hand, he couldn’t bring himself to not tell her. Trying to keep secrets had not served him well, and he wasn’t willing to go back down that rabbit hole. “I need to make you aware that something seems to be going on here that involves a criminal element -- which may or may not be related to the big mess in Los Angeles, which you already know about.” “You’re not in trouble with the law?” “No. But… things have been happening. The worst of it so far: a Molotov was thrown at the door of our hotel room in Glasgow. Jesse Douglas, with the US State Department --” “The man who headed up that sting operation in California, yes.” “He’s here. He has family ties in Scotland, and he invited us to visit. So, things have happened around him and us, and we don’t yet know exactly what’s going on, but we’ve both seen people, or a person, that makes us think perhaps there’s a tie to the Los Angeles thing.” Inspector Shiells stayed silent for a moment. “Police?” “Involved.” “You’re not suspected of any crime.” “No.” She sighed audibly, and Brian interpreted it to mean she had to decide if Brian Harrison was worth the trouble. He held his tongue. “All right,” she said after a moment. “We’ll move ahead as planned. When are you leaving Scotland?”

“Three days if everything goes as planned. If it isn’t too soon, I can get our plane tickets switched up and take care of the paperwork, and we can come straight over to London before going back to Washington.” Silence again. Brian started to worry that he’d assumed too much, or something. “Um… that is, if you’ll be ready that soon. I still own my flat over there, but it’s let. We’ll stay in a hotel if we come over now.” “Sorry, Harrison. I was just looking at my calendar and my notes from the section director. It looks like I could get your interview on the schedule for say… Tuesday? That gives you an extra day to recuperate from travel, if that works for you.” “Definitely. I’ll make it work. Thank you, Inspector.” You’re welcome, and I mean that in several ways, if I’m honest. I’m looking forward to having you on staff if it all works out. And, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry trouble has been your shadow over the last couple o’ years.” “Thanks again, then. I’ll plan to see you on Tuesday, five days from now.” “Cheers,” she said, and the line went dead. Brian pocketed his phone, took a deep breath and blew it out forcefully, and then became suddenly aware of how cold he was in the drafty mud porch. “Shit,” he said aloud to no one. He put the kettle on for another cup of something hot and grabbed the tin of shortbread biscuits on the way back to his chair by the hearth. Seated and with a cookie stuffed in his mouth, he told Jackie and Jesse, “I’ve got a job interview next Tuesday in London. Let’s hope we’re all still alive and free by then.”

* * * Jackie checked the expression on Brian’s face when he walked back in, and he thought it seemed brighter, more hopeful than it had for a while. But he’d never seen him stuff food in his mouth the way he did those shortbread cookies, and

though he had no idea what it meant, he guessed anxiety had something to do with it. When he then made that offhand, half-joking comment about being free and alive, Jackie surmised that the job in Britain raised the stakes for him. He needed this mystery, this new-old threat that was hanging over them, to be solved, to turn out right, now more than ever. Maybe, just maybe, Jesse’s story would help. Brian wiped away some crumbs and said, “So back to here and now. Damn, Jesse, you got jumped?” “Right, well, it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Like I said, I noticed these two guys before and had a bothersome feeling -- tried to ignore it. But in Perth, I got done talking to you, and on my way to the john they seemed to be following me. I walked in and walked right back out to test that theory, and yeah… there they were. I don’t know what got into me, but apparently I think I’m tough or something.” He chuckled, but Jackie didn’t think it was funny. He thought Jesse was fairly tough, too, for a guy that spent most of his time behind a desk. Brian asked, “What’d you do?” “Politely asked them why they were following me. One of them put a sneer on his face and came at me, and I punched him in the face, grabbed him by the belt, jacked him up against the wall, and asked again.” “And… did that not end well?” “It ended in my humiliation when the other one, a rather petite woman, kicked my legs out from under me, and I landed on my ass.” “Oh no!” Jackie said, but then he got to thinking about it. “But you seem okay…” “Yes, fortunately, the FBI is on this case, as we were told. And some agents had been following these two. They’re arrested, being questioned and so forth. The agent in charge, coincidentally, is that Farnsworth.”

“So it was him at the hotel?” “Yes. He asked me to keep what he told me to myself, said he’d been following those two, wanting them to lead him to Alexandra, but… I thought this was kind of strange, but he said he didn’t see her at the hotel. He left because he didn’t want the police questioning him.” “Isn’t that kind of shady?” Jackie asked. “Not necessarily,” Both Brian and Jesse answered. Jesse continued, “There’s a red notice -- an Interpol notice that she’s wanted for questioning -- but no one really pays too much attention to those, unless there’s terrorism involved. And the FBI can investigate outside the US, so that’s okay, but he can’t arrest her, legally, until quite a bit of paperwork is done by both countries. He says it’s in the works. My people confirmed the red notice, but they didn’t find out anything about a request to Congress or to the UK government to allow him to make the arrest. But he can still detain her, and take her to the police to arrest her.” Brian said, “Huh. Weird. So he just doesn’t want them getting in his way?” “Right. Or that’s what he said.” “Why,” Jackie asked, “did he tell you all of this, if it’s so secret?” Jesse nodded. “Yeah. I was wondering the same thing.” That statement and the look on Brian’s face together sent a chill down Jackie’s spine. He didn’t say anything, and for a solid five minutes neither did anyone else, and all that could be heard was a crow on the roof complaining about something, and the clinks and swallows that went with three men drinking tea. And Brian crunching shortbread cookies. Then Jesse cleared his throat. “Before I forget, let me show you a… feature here in the cabin that I’m pretty sure Aunt Tilly left out of the tour.” He got up and started walking toward the back of the house where a chilly bedroom was decorated all blue and white. Jackie thought it was not at all

welcoming, and unless it warmed up considerably, he planned to campaign for spending the night in front of the fire in the living room. But Jesse walked past that door on the left, and the bathroom door on the right and stopped in front of a narrow door at the end of the hall. It looked like a linen closet, or a broom closet, and that’s what Jackie had assumed was there. He hadn’t noticed the brass keyhole set into the wood just under the handle. From a ring full of keys hooked to his belt, Jesse took a brass key, shaped like an old skeleton key, but very small. He slipped it into the keyhole, turned it a full rotation causing an audible clunk inside the door, and then turned it back a quarter turn. “Sorry for the mysterious lock and key,” Jesse said, turning with a smile. “It’s really just old. What’s important is what’s in here.” As he pulled the door open, he continued. “My uncle was a veteran of the second world war, and he was also a hunter.” It was a gun cabinet, with four rifles and a single handgun. The handgun was disassembled and lay in parts on a crossbeam. The rifles looked well-kept, clean, and ready for use. Jackie recognized one of them, a Winchester Marlin 30-30, scope mounted. It was exactly like the first gun he and Josh had ever fired. The day Kaholo had taken them out to the field behind his house. The day his father, Mariano Royce, had died in an explosion on the North Loup River in Nebraska. Jackie marveled at the lack of emotion that memory brought up for him, but he had no reason to grieve for the man, then or now. To be honest, that was the day Jackie’s life, the one he had now, the one worth living, had begun. And the rifle? Well, Luki had taught him a little more about firearms in the years since -- safety lessons, he called them -- and he wasn’t shy about firearms. But if there was a single gun he was actually comfortable with, that was it. Simultaneously, he felt relieved to know that gun was there, and shocked with apprehension, wondering why he thought it was important. But Jesse thought it was important too, or at least he thought it was important that they knew about the guns and could access them. He talked with Brian about them, not realizing Jackie understood the gun talk just as well as his husband. Jackie took it all in, and watched as Jesse closed the door, reinserted the key and turned it back one-quarter rotation, and left the key in.

“If I leave the key set like this, you just have to turn it a quarter rotation right. If you hang a towel or something over the door handle, nobody can see it. It looks like a linen closet, am I right?” They agreed, Jackie hung a pair of his sexy leggings over the handle, and they walked back out to the front room. “Also, there’s Glenfinnan in the back of the cabinet in the mud porch.” Jesse smiled at Brian when he said that, but then he continued, addressing them both. “Listen, I don’t know how you feel about things. I need to stay and do some fixing and things for Tilly, but maybe you just want to cut this short and get out of here tomorrow. I mean, the Alexandra stuff is crazy. I wouldn’t blame you.” “Luki thinks we should go home,” Jackie said. “And if you want to, Jackie, you can. But I’ve got to go to London.” Jackie clicked his tongue, dismissing the idea. “Don’t say weird things, Brian. I’m going where you’re going.” “So you’ve got travel arrangements to make, and I’ll help you with that if you like. But you’re here for the day, anyway, and you might as well enjoy as best you can. How about taking a walk with me, I’ll show you the river bridge that I told you about, Brian. After that, well, I’m beat. Need to get some rest, so I’ll leave you on your own for a few hours. Maybe consider a visit to Loch an Eilein -- it’s only about five kilometers south of here. There’s some old ruins around the lake -- a limestone kiln, farms, whatnot. In other seasons, you can get a boat to take you out to the castle ruins in the middle of the lake, but even now if you walk around to the other side of the lake you’ll get a very good view. Lots of history there -- a siege during the first Jacobite rising, Rob Roy and the like. Great day trip. To go all the way around the lake, you need an hour and a half or so; dress warm and watch the time. Days are short here in the winter, and you don’t want to get stuck out there after dark. Ghosts, and all that sort of thing, you know.” Brian asked, “Just because it’s old?” “Just because it’s Scotland.”

* * * The walk to the bridge, with glistening snow and the warmth of the winter sun just barely enough to keep Jackie’s nose from freezing, refreshed Jackie heart and soul. They got to the river and walked out onto the bridge, and Jesse pointed to a place on the bank where people would swim in summer. And he’d been right, it closely resembled Luki’s bridge on the North Loup in Nebraska, so much so that he wondered if, in five years, he’d be able to tell which place he’d taken the pictures at. After, Jesse went to his cabin -- technically one of Tilly’s properties, but never occupied by anyone but him -- to rest, and Jackie and Brian started up the old truck and took a ride on narrow rural roads through Rothiemurchus forest to the site of Loch An Eilein. Jesse’d told them to be prepared for a parking fee, and assured them the experience was well worth it. Once they’d paid, they set off down to the loch. And yes. It was beautiful. And a little spooky, somehow, even in daylight. They walked a short way until they had a beautiful view across the lake, with a pine, solitary and more majestic than all its neighbors, on the bank to one side. Not quite midafternoon, the sun streamed in low and created shadows on the bank and visions in the ice-strewn waters of the loch. Jackie and Brian each slid an arm around each other, and together they watched a hawk circle the island in the middle of the loch, looking for prey. They walked another twenty minutes or so, but the wind kicked up and drew an icy spray off the snow, flinging it at their faces. They’d gotten far enough to see the castle ruins well, and despite the crosswind they spent a few minutes. Brian stood behind Jackie, wrapped both arms around him, and pulled him into the shelter of his body. “Do you think,” he asked, “there was ever a couple like you and me living at this castle?” “Of course there was,” Jackie said. “People lived here for more than two hundred years. Lots of queer folks probably, in all that time.” “Yeah, but they’d have had to hide, I think, mostly. Right?”

“Mm. I suppose. Maybe that’s why there’s some restless ghosts in there. All their lives with secrets locked away. That would make anyone uneasy in death.” “Uh… Okay. You took that a little further than I would have, I think.” Jackie turned in his arms and looked up him, smiling. “Oops. I guess I let my maudlin side show a little.” He laughed, then stood on tiptoes to get the kiss he wanted. Brian didn’t begrudge him that, and the kiss he gave was sweet and sexy and, Jackie felt certain, overflowing with love. When the kiss ended, they started to go back to walking around the loch, but a dark cloud flew in on the wind, and suddenly, though still beautiful, the place was cold and uninviting. They turned back toward the car park, and found the wind at their backs a much more favorable condition. Jackie let the smile stay on his face despite the new chill. As much as he’d been intrigued by Glasgow, this was the Scotland he’d wanted to see. If he thought about it, maybe it was true that he just wasn’t a city boy, and to find peace he needed some open spaces. His early years in the rural Midwest were marred by his father’s rages and bitter snipes, but he took refuge in the fields. And some of the best times of his life were at Sonny and Luki’s home on the Olympic Peninsula and Kaholo’s isolated place on the North Loupe. Thinking about that place, and maybe spurred by having been reminded of the river bridge earlier that afternoon, Jackie started thinking about a warm night in June on the riverbank -- his and Brian’s first sex. He couldn’t call it lovemaking, because it wasn’t that, not yet. It was more an exploration, like testing a theory. They’d each known the other held some special promise for them, and that encounter proved it. And it was hot! As they neared the truck, Jackie said, “You know, Brian, if we go straight back to the cabin, we have some time before we’re supposed to meet Jesse for dinner…”

Chapter Eight

Brian heard what Jackie said, and he mumbled some kind of agreement, but he was focused on the view of the car park through the trees. Only one other car was there besides Aunt Tilly’s truck, and it was parked behind it at an angle, not in a regular spot. A sedan, looked like probably a rental, though he knew that could be deceiving. Three people were walking around, and it looked like they were checking the truck out. Brian pulled Jackie into his arms and nuzzled him. “What did you have in mind, for when we get back?” But he was still watching the people in the parking lot, and apparently he hadn’t fooled Jackie, because he got no answer, and after only a short time, Jackie pushed away and started walking. “Not sure what’s wrong with you, Brian, but that was a little weird.” “Wait!” Brian stopped him before he walked out into the open. “There.” Jackie looked where Brian was pointing, and quietly gasped. “What are they doing?” “I don’t know. They seem awfully interested in the truck. I’m sorry I tried to keep you from seeing. I just didn’t want to scare you.” “Which fact scares me. But it looks like they’re leaving.” The three people got back into the car, and obviously there was a fourth person in it already, because none of them got into the driver’s seat. “I know it’s cold, Jackie, but let’s wait a few minutes before we go back to the car. I’ll call Jesse, let him know what we saw, see if he has any thoughts.” “Sure,” Jackie said, but he was shivering now. Brian covered him as best he could with an arm around him tucking him against

his body, inside his coat. The woods were going dark, either from cloud cover or early dusk or both, and the temperature was dropping. With one hand, he pressed in a call back to the last call he got from Jesse and waited while it rang. Eventually, it stopped ringing. No voice mail set up. “No answer,” he told Jackie. He thought about calling Tilly, but he didn’t want to scare her, and with the strangers and their car gone, he figured they were probably safe, at the moment. “Let’s just go. It was probably nothing. I’m just paranoid.” “I doubt that,” Jackie said, but he set off ahead of him on his way to the truck. The drive back to the cabin wasn’t nearly as relaxed as the drive out to the loch. The people at the car park had rattled Brian. The idea that maybe they were somehow tied up with Alexandra Heylens and were lurking nearby, waiting to do them harm wrapped itself around his brain. He kept worrying at it, check mirrors, deliberately making wrong turns, pulling off the road into a café parking lot, the train station, a park. “Maybe those people had nothing to do with us,” Jackie offered, after Brian had pulled some maneuver for the umpteenth time. Brian kept his response noncommittal, but by the time they turned into the driveway to their cabin, he had to allow the possibility he’d been more suspicious than the situation warranted. Maybe it only seemed they were looking at the truck. They most likely would have hung around if they were looking for him. Or Jackie. Jackie. “Hey, love,” he said as he shut the truck’s engine down. “Have I completely spoiled your mood? Because I’m thinking I’m a fool, and what I’d really like is to give you everything you want to the best of my ability. Will you forgive me for getting a little obsessed with worries, obviously off-the-wall worries?” Jackie, most certainly the kindest and most loving husband who ever existed, unbuckled his seat belt and turned to look at him, a slow smile spreading across

his beautiful mouth, bright eyes smiling too. “Maybe not that obviously baseless. Weird stuff is going on. It’s good you’re paying attention. Also, no. My mood is still hanging in there. Sometimes just being close to you, watching you move, seeing you… confront the world as if it’s a battlefield and you’re the damned king of the generals…” He stopped talking and sighed, and Brian could hardly contain the sudden lust that spiked through him. “Anyway, if you think we’re safe, well, I’m still pretty much in the same mood.” He narrowed his eyes, but the effect was a sexy one, and, speaking very clearly, he added, “Sir.” Brian was around the truck and at Jackie’s door before Jackie could even climb out. He lifted him into his arms, slammed the truck door with his foot, and managed to -- not too gracelessly -- unlock and open the cabin’s door and carry his husband across the threshold, not for the first time in their life together. Jackie was laughing right out loud, and Brian did too, as soon as he had enough breath to do so. “Damn, Jackson. I love you. And I’d like your safewords, if you please.” “Yellow and Red, Sir.” Jackie spoke quietly, but he wore a huge smile -- possibly self-satisfied at having once again maneuvered to get exactly what he wanted. “Thank you.” Brian set Jackie down on his feet, made sure he had his balance and stepped away. “Go do whatever you need to do and come back ready for some rope. Because you, devil boy, are going to be brand new and beautiful.” Brian prepared to make good on his word. Stoking the fire, dressing down to just the worn jeans Jackie loved to see on him, setting up his favorite playlist on his phone with a couple small speakers attached to make it sound better. Getting out rope coils, lengths of leather and chain, quick release clips to make everything easier when he’d accomplished his work and wanted to fuck to celebrate. By the time he was done, he turned to find Jackie posed in a modified kneel on the soft, deep-pile rug in front of the sofa. As he nearly always did, Brian had left it to him to decide whether to wear his prosthesis, and also whether to clothe

any part of his body. This time he’d chosen to leave the leg off, and he wore seethrough black boxer briefs made of fine netting and lace. Eyes down, head proud, and so beautiful. This moment of readiness, of waiting, anticipation… It always moved Brian. Touched him, made him both proud and humbled. He itted, in those seconds of stillness, that though his ropes made art, and Jackie tied made a highly pleasing sight, he could never really make him more beautiful. He was already perfect, at least in Brian’s eyes. A blush was creeping up Jackie’s neck -- clearly he felt Brian’s gaze. Brian smiled and walked to his devil boy, tilted his head up with a finger under his chin, and offered a kiss for reassurance. Then he set about putting his ropes to work in the interest of order and beauty. Ten minutes later Jackie was lying on the rug, momentarily prone, tied to himself in various coils and crosses of rope, and decorated with knots and lengths of delicate chain, three of the latter attached to the quick release clips -- just for options. He’d also set two loose rope ends as pulls to manipulate the position of Jackie’s limbs. Still, most of his beautiful body showed through the ropes, and nothing about his position looked unnatural. He stopped to appreciate it all -- the fruits of his work, the glow of firelight, but mostly his stunning husband. The living room had no mirrors, but a free-standing one stood on the dresser in the bedroom. Brian crouched next to him and rubbed his shoulder to rouse him enough from subspace to speak. “Would you like to see how beautiful you are right now, Jackson? You can answer in words.” Jackie’s eyes opened a little and settled on Brian. He licked his lips, and they formed a tiny, lazy smile. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Please?” “All right. I’ll get the mirror from the bedroom. I’ll only be gone a minute, and I can hear you in there.” He got up and stepped away, but then stopped. Something, some doubt, or worry, or perhaps fear, dropped into his consciousness -- a big what if? What if what, he didn’t know, but his gut churned and to settle it he stepped back to Jackie, went down on one knee, and arranged him on his side with a chain in his hand.

“Quick release,” he said, molding Jackie’s compliant fingers around it. “Hold on to it until I get back.” Submerged but obedient, Jackie’s hand tightened around the chain, and Brian breathed easier. He got up again and started on his small errand. In the bedroom, Brian collected lube and the mirror and set them aside together. He also sorted out some arnica and lavender oil to use afterward to sooth the places where the ropes had no doubt chafed. He stepped out to the living room and set it all down, then into the kitchen for water. He was on his way back to Jackie, contemplating the next part of the session -sex that felt like a reward for both him and his amazing sub -- when loud noises came against both the back and front doors. They flew open and three people -dressed in heavy quilted black, masked, booted, and armed -- rushed in. “Fuck,” Brian got out, just before he took a fist to the gut. The glass of water flew from his hand and crashed onto the floor. Hands free, he punched the person in front of him, left to the ribs, right to the jaw. They staggered back and Brian stepped forward to pursue, but in that second when all his weight was on one foot, someone kidney punched him and he fell, first to one knee then down to the floor. He fought the need to curl up and cry for the pain, swished a foot outward and by pure luck caught one of his assailants at the ankle at a vulnerable moment. The heavy man fell half on top of Brian on his back. Brian snaked an arm around his neck and locked it with his other hand. The man clutched and tried to tear at Brian’s arms and tried to buck loose, but Brian’s hold was strong. Desperately Brian tried to figure how he could gain some kind of real advantage in this fight, while at the same time listening for any sound from Jackie. He heard muffled cries, shattering glass, and then a grunt. And he could not for the life of him think of any way this could end but badly. Someone shouted from the living room, the voice male and the accent from some part of London, Brian thought. “There’s a redhead in here but --” Someone else, also apparently a Brit but this one a woman, interrupted. “Knock him out, eh?”

“Already done that, bitch. I’m tryin’ to tell ya, he’s a pretty young thing, obviously ain’t the one she wants.” “He’d be the one she said not to harm! Tie ‘im up an’ leave ‘im. Poor boy in the wrong place at the wrong time, and ‘e ain’t seen our faces. She’s payin’ good, an’ we’ll do as she asks.” A crude laugh came from the living room. “Oh, he’s already trussed up nice. And some extra rope ‘ere. I’ll just toss a blanket on him and tie that. It’ll be like we left a l’il present.” “Yer a sick basta’d. Just do it.” It seemed as though she just then clued into the fact that the man Brian wrestled with on the ground wasn’t making any headway. Neither was Brian, but it wasn’t going to matter. The next thing the woman in charge said was “For Chrissake, just knock this one out too. Take a looksee for phones, trash ‘em if they turn up, and get this one out to the car. She wants ‘im.”

* * * Jesse read through the document file he’d been given as the three Scot special agents watched impatiently. The letters weren’t lengthy, were quite specific, and bore the signatures of the Deputy Secretaries of the US Departments of State, Justice, and Homeland Security. He was being temporarily reactivated -- under special t supervision of all three departments -- in order to work with the Scottish agents of the NCA in a case involving rogue FBI overseas. Two of them. One he knew about, Alexandra Heylens. In fact it seemed his questions and some inquiries from a civilian source routed through ATFE were responsible for alerting authorities about the rogue activities of the second agent, Farnsworth. “Just so as ye understand, Mr. Douglas, ye’ll have nae power, nae gun, and nae real job. Ye’ll be comin’ along as your government wishes to hae a representative present. You’re nearby, and you’re already in the muck wi’ this.

You’re selected on those merits.” “Crystal clear,” Jesse said, seriously wishing this wasn’t official business. But then again, maybe it was better that it was. With that as a deterrent, he wouldn’t pop the guy in the mouth, and get himself in the kind of trouble he hadn’t been in for at least fifteen years. “Let’s go, then. We’ve reason to believe the female suspect has sent some thugs to pick up your friend, Harrison. Already, we may be late.”

* * * Jackie felt cozy and secure as he slowly came awake, and at first that confused him. He couldn’t figure out why he felt afraid when he was all wrapped up in sweet, warm darkness, with Brian’s ropes keeping him steady. He opened his eyes, and the darkness stayed, and then he ed. Fuck. He thought it, and then ed Brian shouting it just as their beautiful night turned to shit. Dangerous shit. Deadly? He hoped not. He spent a moment bemoaning that these things kept happening to him, but his internal cry of Why? went unanswered, and he knew it was pointless anyway. Other things to think about, just then. He decided not to move or make any sound until he did his best to take stock of the situation. Fact one: his head hurt. Conclusion to be drawn: they’d knocked him out. Not rocket science, Jackson. Fact two: no sounds of movement or voices. Conclusion drawn: I’m most likely alone. Fact three: the fire still hissed slow and steady. Conclusion: he hadn’t been unconscious long. Those were all good things. Feeling it was safe enough to move, he flexed his fingers and what muscles he could, and the movement made him clutching the quick release in his hand. He wondered what marvelous prescience had made Brian come back and give it to him to hold, but immediately following came the devastating realization that it was no longer in his hand. And this is all my fault. What was I thinking? I shouldn’t have goaded Brian into

a session. I knew we were in danger. But I didn’t expect this. Neither did Brian, apparently. And where is he now? The temptation to just give up and let whatever was going to happen to him happen came on strong, but not strong enough to counteract the hope that if he could get moving, he might be able to help Brian get clear of danger. His mind went back to the quick release he’d held. He twisted his hand within the bindings, dragging his fingers over the material beneath them -- a blanket? To his great relief, he found the chain lying just within reach, and he scrabbled for it as if it were the miracle of life itself. Once he had it in his hand, he worked it through his fingers until he felt the tension on the ropes that held that arm and his short leg loosen. He rolled onto his back and tried to figure out the knots and wraps that still held him. They were complicated and tight and he wasn’t sure if he could work them loose with one hand. Great relief swept over him as he found a second quick release, pulled it, and felt most of the other ropes fall free. He’d already pulled free the final harness, tied to unite his shoulders and torso, when he discovered that there had been a third quick release he could have used for that. Brian never did that, never really used a failsafe that Jackie could reach at all anymore. Jackie had stopped needing it, stopped even wanting it. Whether Brian realized it consciously or not, he had been preparing for disaster. Keeping Jackie safe had been on his mind. He succeeded in part, but what about his own safety? Gods, Bri. Please be okay. Damn, Jackie, move your ass! Get help. Do something! He was still wrapped in a blanket, which he discovered was secured with a rope presently loosely tied around his waist. He thought probably the person who tied it hadn’t meant for it to come loose so easily -- obviously no expert. He squirmed around until he found the opening in the blanket and wiggled his way

out. The firelight blinded him, but he welcomed it anyway. It seemed like a little kiss of hope after dread and dark. He started to stand up. Then he ed he only had one leg, so instead he aimed for all fours, as a start. Pain seared through him as his stump slid across glass -- a piece of the shattered mirror from the bedroom. Jackie’s resolve almost broke then; he almost stopped to cry. Instead he let tears fall and continued, carefully removing glass from his path as best he could as he made for the bathroom. A piece of luck, the small cabin meant he didn’t need to go far to get anywhere important. In the bathroom, he quickly bandaged the cut. It would still hurt, but the pressure from his prosthesis should keep the bleeding down, and the bandage would keep it from being too slippery if it did bleed. To the bedroom next, where he found their phones, smashed to bits, and Brian’s laptop case, empty. Refusing to accept that he couldn’t help Brian, he put on his leg, jeans, socks, shoes, and a shirt which happened to be Brian’s. Out to the kitchen next, stubbornly not limping despite the pain of every step on his cut stump. The truck still sat in the driveway; the keys lay on the floor under the hook Brian had hung them from when they came back from their tourist afternoon. Stick shift. Jackie knew he’d never been the world’s greatest driver. He hadn’t done much driving at all since he’d lost his leg. And he hadn’t even tried to operate a clutch. First time for everything, and for Brian, it might be now or never. He grabbed the first garment hanging from the rack by the door -- a black hoodie belonging to Brian -- and started out the door. Then he stopped. Thought. Turned and went back in. The 30-30 surprised him. The way the weight of it felt good in his hands as he took it out of the cabinet. He found ten rounds of the right kind for the gun in the drawer Jesse had showed them, but the rifle only loaded six plus the one he

chambered. He knew it was a bit of a risk firing a gun he’d never shot before, one he’d not personally cleaned and tested, but he also knew he didn’t have time for all that, and if the gun proved to be necessary, it would either work and help, or else all would be lost regardless. So he took a deep breath, marveling a bit at the deep calm he felt, and headed back out to the truck. He racked the gun in the back window, someplace it surely had set many times before, and put the key in the ignition. The engine started, and Jackie sat there with the heater blowing icy air, trying to plan. He ignored the most immediate problem -- how he was going to drive the truck -- and decided where to go. He had no idea where Jesse’s cabin was. There must be a police station in town, but again, he didn’t know where. The railroad station probably had guards or cops posted, but that seemed a long way away. He’d seen some businesses between Tilly’s and this cabin. If he saw one open, he’d stop. If not, he’d go to Tilly’s if he could find the way. Provided he could work the truck. When he’d driven before, since his amputation, it had been an automatic, and he’d “cheated,” keeping his amputated leg out of the way and using his left leg for both brake and gas. Driving a stick shift had never been his strong suit. Now, he had an extra challenge. Just go, Jackson. Minutes are ticking by. The best you can do will be good enough, damn it. It has to be. At the start, he nearly hit his already aching head on the steering wheel because he wasn’t too smooth with the brake and clutch. Once he’d got it together enough to pull out of the driveway, he turned left onto the road, at first pulling into the right lane, and then ing he needed to be on the left. He eventually got all the way into third gear, then stalled out going around a curve because he slowed down too much without shifting. Fuck, Brian. You’d better appreciate this. As soon as he heard that thought flit through his distracted mind, his heart started to pound in panic. How can I even think that! Damn, Brian. You don’t

have to appreciate anything. Just be okay. Just be alive. A couple breaths later he realized the forest had been getting thicker, and the houses fewer and farther between, which meant he’d been going the wrong way. He slowed the truck -- proudly managing to shift down to second -- and headed in to a dirt track in a small clearing to the left, planning a Y-turn so he could get going back the other way. But just when he thought he’d managed it, he hit a bump, his left leg slipped off the clutch and his prosthesis hit the gas. The truck lurched forward, the right front wheel missed the turn and came to an abrupt stop in the roadside ditch. Jackie’s head made hard with the steering wheel and for a few seconds he thought he was going to black out again. He didn’t, and after his vision cleared, he got out of the truck to see if he thought he stood a chance in hell of driving the thing back out of the hole. It wasn’t much of a ditch, really, which should have been encouraging. But, just right there on the corner where the tire had gone in, was a much deeper hole, and it was slick with ice. Even if he’d been at his two-legged best, no way could he have driven that truck out. He’d venture to guess that even Sonny couldn’t have done it, and that was saying a lot. It felt like final defeat. But no way could he accept that. He could hope that someone else was helping Brian, that he’d come out okay, but for all he knew he was the only person who even knew what had happened. He couldn’t see any houses or mailboxes, and he had no indication how far he might be from people. Using logic -- even though he knew it was damned fallible -- he figured a track turning off the road probably led to something. He started down it, wincing at the pain that came from his cut stump with every step. He stopped and turned back to the truck. Not knowing why, he got the rifle. Then he started off again. He’d gone maybe an eighth of a mile, he figured, when he stopped to stand on one foot, momentarily taking the pressure off the painful leg. In the quiet, he heard noise -- car doors and voices, he thought. He did his best to forget the pain and moved forward again, thinking maybe here was help. But as he got close, he saw a gray sedan that looked a hell of a lot like the one they’d seen at Loch Eilein car park, and behind it a black van with windows tinted so dark the interior was bleak mystery.

It wasn’t good. He appreciated the cloak of darkness and the screen of trees, and he stayed quiet until he was damn sure nobody was moving by the cars. Even so, he didn’t want to cross the clearing where the cars were parked, because someone might be in that van. He wrapped his hand around the gunstock, not sure if he should throw it away so there was no way he could make a fatal mistake with it, or if he should be glad he had it. But now he saw a moving, very bright light in the woods across the dirt track from where he and the cars stood, and people were shouting. I can’t do this. I just meant to find help. But there’s no one else. Just me and my gun. I’m willing to use it, for Brian, if I have to. And I’m capable. I had good teachers. The best. With that small boost in his confidence, he backtracked and entered the forest from farther back. Then, wishing he could move more quietly with his prosthesis, he inched his way forward stop-and-go fashion until he stood hidden by trees and a scant screen of brush, looking into a clearing brightly lit by a lantern. He couldn’t see all the faces. He couldn’t see any of them, in fact, except one. Brian lay in the center of the clearing. Bound and bloody, shivering, and in danger of dying from the weather in only his worn jeans.

* * * When Jackie first got to the clearing, he thought he’d got there too late. The weather wasn’t the only thing threatening Brian’s life. Of more immediate concern, a woman -- Alexandra, he supposed -- had a handgun pointing at him. Mostly. She waved it around as she weaved him a story of the mess of a web she’d got snared in. Also, why she’d done the things she’d done, and of course, how Brian had made it worse -- so much worse -- when he “blabbed” to Dierdre White. “I’m going to die for my crimes, Harrison. But not before I kill you and

everyone else who fucked up my life.” Jackie’s thoughts wanted to escape the situation, tried to scurry off in several different directions. Not surprisingly, one branch wanted to consider the persistent black hole of self-delusion. Alexandra really believed what she said, and as soon as she let herself believe others made her do what she did, it took only a few baby steps until it became obvious to her that she should kill them for it. It seemed a bit of luck that she’d taken one more step beyond that and adopted as fact the idea that her victims should know exactly why they had to die. Another line of thinking centered on her waving gun, following it as though it held some secret coded pattern, or perhaps was moving through a dance. Despite all that, he came to the conclusion that surely she knew how to handle the weapon. Once the dance ended and she pulled the trigger, the shot would be fatal. He also had distracted thoughts about how cold he was, how his injured leg had stopped hurting and started feeling warm and squishy, how his foot was going numb and fingertips ached. And about how much worse it must be for Brian. It seemed like he’d done a lot of thinking, but in regard to time, hardly any had ed before he shut down his trauma-brain, which is the one that would run away anyway it could, when he returned to thinking about what mattered. How can I stop her? He hadn’t forgotten that he held a loaded rifle and was a good enough shot to at least hit her with a couple rounds out of seven. But a small group of muscle -surely the same ones who’d blasted into the cabin, bound him in the dark inside a blanket, beaten Brian and taken him away -- also stood around the edges of the clearing. Would anybody hear him if he cocked the lever on the rifle? It seemed quiet when he loaded it, but… And what would those others do if he shot her? He made up his mind that he had to act -- and before she finished her speech. I’ll have to do it anyway. But a woman, one of the thugs, spoke suddenly and loudly. “You contracted for us to help you get him here. Not for us to help you -- or even watch you -- kill him. Pay us now. We’re leaving.”

Alexandra shifted her attention to the woman who’d spoken, but now the gun went still, and it remained pointed at Brian. While Alexandra growled out a bitter response, Jackie moved the rifle to a ready position, and cocked the lever to ninety degrees. You won’t be able to pull that trigger, his treacherous thoughts shouted. But he quieted them with a mental shush. It wasn’t time yet, but if -when -- the time came, he’d do it. “Pay you! I’m not paying you a bloody dime. Where’s the redhead? You were supposed to bring them both.” “He’d already left, and we turned the town upside down looking for him, damn it. You already know that. You agreed to pay us per head. You owe us for this one.” “I don’t owe you anything, not even the right to walk away with your life. But I’ll let you have that. Just keep in mind what I already have on you that can cause you and your boys a whole lot of trouble. I may not be with the Bureau anymore, but I can still see to it they get the information. Walk away now, and make sure you never say a bloody word. Just like this blabbermouth here” -Alexandra jabbed the gun in Brian’s direction --”you’ll die for it if you do.” The woman made some kind of hand signal to the three other toughs, and they made ready to leave. For a moment, Jackie panicked, thinking they’d walk by him. But he’d not come from the direction of the cars, and they all turned and went back into the woods, walking away from where he remained concealed in the darkness outside the ring of light. Now, he thought. She was alone. This was his chance. But he didn’t get to take it. A burly man in a suit and long, heavy overcoat, moving in impossible silence, came out of the woods twenty feet or so to Jackie’s right and dropped her with a sharp hand to the neck. He grabbed the gun from her on her way down, did something to it -- maybe putting on the safety, Jackie thought -- and stuck it in his belt. By the time she hit the ground, he had a hold on both her hands, and it took him a split second to bind her wrists with plastic cuffs. She was conscious but still fairly limp as he dragged her over and tossed her to the ground next to Brian. After cuffing her ankles as he’d done her wrists, he pulled her to her knees. Jackie had lowered his rifle, thinking surely this was the FBI agent that had been

working on finding Alexandra. He was right, too, because he heard Alexandra bleat out a panicked “Farnsworth!” Surely, his next move would be to free Brian and help him. Jackie was so sure of this he almost stepped out of the clearing. Turned out that might have been fatal, and he realized it just in time. Farnsworth made no move to help Brian, only put the gun to Alexandra’s temple and started talking.

* * * Shivering violently woke Brian from red dreams. That’s all he ed of the dreams -- red. Maybe he’d been dreaming fire. If so, he understood why. He knew exactly where he was and what was going on the minute he came awake. He was outside on the ground in a damn cold Scottish forest with his hands and legs bound behind his back. And -- oddly enough -- Farnsworth, the FBI agent he’d hoped might come to save him was ignoring him as he bid a self-centered fare-thee-well in the afterlife to Heylens, the other FBI agent who’d been the one to bring him out here to the forest, apparently to rant at him before she killed him. It was a Hollywood-movie stupid thing to do. She could have had her thugs kill him when they came to the cabin, but like a distraught and bitter movie bad guy, she undid herself because of a need to talk. Apparently, it wasn’t going to be satisfaction enough to see him dead. She wanted him to know, God damn it. Did she think I’d feel sorry for her? In the long run it didn’t matter anymore, because now Farnsworth was there -had he been there all along? -- and he was doing the talking. He sounded a lot less bitter and, importantly, a hell of a lot calmer than Alexandria -- apparently his former partner agent and maybe lover, from what Brian gathered. On the other hand, his calm sounded a lot like quiet determination. Whatever he’d come to do, he’d do it. He’d fleetingly thought Farnsworth would rescue him as he had once before. It should have been true -- he was FBI, the agent assigned to bring Alexandra to justice. But what he could hear didn’t quite fit with that scenario. He tried to unravel the whole story because that meant he didn’t have to worry about what

was going to happen to him. He got distracted when he started to feel warmer. Aware only for the first moment that his thoughts seemed unclear, even distant, he soon forgot to wonder about it. Someone, he thought, had lit a fire nearby, and didn’t that feel good! Maybe the sun had come up, too. Now that he wasn’t so cold, he was pretty sure he could just go to sleep. He listened to his own breath for a minute because it sounded odd. Fast and somehow musical. Yes, in fact. It reminded him of a silly love song his grandmother used to sing -- half in English, half in German -about a wooden heart. He thought his heart might be wooden, because now it felt as if it had caught fire. The searing pain of it ed, though, as he started to hum the tune -- in his mind, anyway. Now his grandmother, his Oma, sat down beside him and covered him with a warm blanket. She was singing too. He stopped shivering and went to sleep. The sound of a gunshot shocked him into shivering again. Though it was weak and sporadic, it woke him. At least, he thought it did, but he couldn’t be sure. His thoughts rolled and bounced, nonsensical, a ball of confusion. Yet, to Brian, it seemed right. A man spoke to him, called him Harrison, but he didn’t answer. He knew it wasn’t important. When he heard another gunshot, he understood he would soon be dead. At the moment, that seemed right too.

* * * “Alexandra.” The gentle calm with which Farnsworth said her name whispered a soothing little everything’s going to be all right in Jackie’s ear. He wanted to believe it. He waited for the evidence. Alexandra said, “Arrest me and get it over with, Farnsworth. And… please. I know I said I’d use what I know against you, for leverage if I was ever caught, but I… I wouldn’t, Farns. I won’t. I was just trying to seem stronger than I am. You… you know I lo --”

“Don’t say it, Alex. Maybe it was true, a little bit, once. No more. I told you if your case crossed my desk -- and you should have known it would if you didn’t keep your head down -- I said I’d hunt you down.” He sighed and bent to kiss her forehead. “And that, Alexandra, is goodbye.” He straightened his hand, the one with the gun in it. Jackie didn’t see his finger twitch on the trigger, but he heard the muted shot -- the not-silent sound of a powerful pistol with a suppressor cooling its heat. Jackie had never been particularly interested in guns. But he knew that sound and a lot of other things about guns mostly because of Luki. ”It’s a sad fact,” Luki had said when he started Jackie’s education on the subject, ”that we live in a world where it pays to know how to protect yourself or someone else from a crazy fuck with a gun. I hear people say, ‘I have a gun for protection.’ Well, that’s a start, kiddo, but without a solid education about firearms, having one just makes you another crazy fuck with a gun. I know Kaholo taught you a little bit, and he’s certainly qualified. I’m gonna teach you more.” Those words, along with everything Kaholo and Luki had taught him, lurked somewhere in the back of Jackie’s mind as, standing in the dark, he watched the scene taking place inside the circle of moonlit snow. When Farnsworth shot Alexandra, Jackie’s thoughts somersaulted, trying to make sense of it. Farnsworth was the good guy, wasn’t he? He’d had her disarmed -- the threat contained. She’d been… cooperating, or maybe begging. But he’d killed her anyway, and Jackie had just enough time to digest that and comprehend what it meant. Then the big man trained his gun on Brian, who lay on his side -- awake now, but apparently not really aware -- hogtied and barely clad. He’d been shivering violently in the snow, but now he’d gone still. He had a little smile on his face, and for Jackie that was probably the scariest thing he’d seen yet. “Sorry, Harrison,” Farnsworth said, sounding like maybe he meant it at least a little. But then he continued. “You know too much.” His movements, his words -- all too calm. It seemed that time slowed and stuttered as it ed, and Jackie even entertained a ing thought about how cliché that was -- as if he was falling asleep while watching a movie.

Yet even in that eye-of-the-storm calm, Jackie knew what he had to do. He wasn’t “just another crazy fuck with a gun.” He checked his sights and adjusted his aim to the center of Farnsworth’s torso. ”Center of mass,” Luki had said, time and again. “Where you’re most likely not to miss, and a hit is most likely to stop your target.” A flash-quick, fear-laden shiver shook Jackie once, but he stilled himself using the indomitable willpower that he’d almost forgotten he owned. He fired. Jackie became calmer than he’d ever been before as seconds dribbled by unrushed and distant, devoid of meaning. His single shot from the dark struck Farnsworth hard enough to twist his body and fling him back. He made a sound that Jackie could only interpret as an exclamation of surprise. Then, quiet, he crumpled down into the trampled snow, already marked with a surreal design painted in blood. He still moved as if struggling to rise, but Jackie wasn’t worried about that. He’d been rendered harmless. The handgun had been thrown out of Farnsworth’s reach, and it lay there, black on white snow, innocently pointing off into the shadow clothing the midnight forest. Ignoring the resurrected pain in his stump and the clumsy numbness in his foot, Jackie walked straight across the clearing. He felt as if he took the darkness with him as he left the trees, a bubble blocking out everything but the one person sharing his world -- Brian. The false calm coating his thoughts and perceptions like syrup held for a long moment. Then he realized all at once: I can’t help him. His power, his resources, were miniscule. He had no way warm him, no way to get him safe. He wasn’t even sure he could undo the knots in the rough ropes that bound him. He concentrated all his effort on biting back panic, but he never found out if it would have worked. The clatter and stomp of booted, armed men flooded the silence and a storm of police encircled the clearing and closed in on him, clearing away the last fragments of protective shadow with overpowered flashlight beams. The tallest among them said, “Police! Freeze!”

That struck Jackie as stupidly funny, but his laugh didn’t make it past his lips. Jesse stepped out from among the group, said to the others, “Just stay calm. He’s not a criminal.” He walked unrushed toward Jackie, calling his name in a low tone. When he stood directly in front of him, he met his gaze, direct and certain, which cut straight through Jackie’s confused fear, reassuring him. He put a hand on Jackie’s shoulder, took the rifle from him, and handed it off to a man who stood near. “It’s all right, Jackie,” he said. “You’re all right. Let’s see what we can do to help Brian, shall we?”

* * * Brian chalked up the sudden return of clarity to “something that happens right before you die.” He heard Farnsworth’s words.”You know too much.” He couldn’t see the man, he was curled up like a pill bug and facing the opposite way. But still, he knew the words were directed at him. The woman who had been Alexandra was already dead. He also knew the sentence heralded his execution. When he heard the shot, he wondered why it seemed so much louder than the last one. Then he wondered why he’d heard it before he felt it. Wait. I didn’t feel it at all. Maybe I’m so cold I’m numb. Maybe I’m already dead. But then Jackie was there, falling lopsidedly to his one knee in the snow right in front of him. Brian forced himself to turn his head slightly, shifted his eyes to look up. With great effort he formed the J in his mouth, planning to say his name. But Jesse stepped close and said it before Brian could get it out. Brian felt a rush of gratitude for this man offering kindness to Jackie when he was unable himself to do it, to take care of his love. Brian took an easier breath, and he once again started to shiver.

“You’re shivering, Brian,” Jesse said. “That’s a good sign.”

Epilogue

For the second time in two months, Brian woke up in a hospital room with a cop near his door. Therefore, the first word he said when he found the ability to speak: “Fuck.” But he hadn’t noticed Jackie sitting on his other side. When he became aware of a warm hand holding his, he turned and saw Jackie slumped over the side of his bed, apparently having kept watch until sleep took him against his will. “Jackson,” he whispered, and rubbed his thumb -- which he now noticed was the only unbandaged digit of that hand -- over Jackie’s palm. Jackie blinked and swallowed and sat up, the impression of the wrinkled blanket marking half his face. “Bri.” Jackie took a deep and lovely breath, waking up a bit more. “You need something? Water?” “I hadn’t thought of it. Your face, your eyes, your hand holding mine. That was exactly what I needed.” But his throat was raw and his voice raspy, so he conceded, “But water does sound good.” He smiled, but he dialed it back when he felt his dry lips cracking. Jackie’s smile was big enough for both of them, though. He blotted blood off Brian’s lips with a tissue, took some kind of lip cream and smeared it on, then held a cup with a straw for him while he drank. After he drank and then breathed a bit, Brian tried to take stock of his condition. Maybe Jackie read his mind. “You’ve got a few bruises from… those thugs, when they came to the cabin. But the doctors say nothing’s broken, and you’re fine except for what the hypothermia did to you. You have a little frostbite, but if you take care of your fingers and toes you won’t lose them. You might slough a little tissue, they said, and that sounds gross but it’s not terrible, and maybe you won’t, because they were still frozen when we got to the hospital. I’m not sure why that’s better, but

they say it is.” He was out of breath before he paused. “Sorry. I’m rattling on.” Brian chuckled. “It’s okay.” But Brian didn’t want to think about sloughing rotten flesh, or having a toe fall off, or anything like that, so he changed the subject to another that was on his mind. “Tell me neither of us is charged with a crime?” Jackie didn’t get a chance to answer before Jesse came in, letting in a rush of noise from out in the hall, which diminished as the door swung shut. “Nope, not under arrest,” Jesse said. “Police are trying to fend off reporters. You do have a way of catching the attention of the press.” “Sorry.” “No, I’m the one who’s sorry. If I hadn’t talked you into Scotland for a lovely honeymoon spot, maybe none of this would have happened.” “That’s not true.” Brian shook his head and started to speak, but stopped, taking a deep breath. “I feel ridiculous asking this, but can someone help me sit up?” “Oh, sure,” Jackie said. “Let me,” Jesse said. After which Jesse fussed over Brian’s person, trying to help him sit up without aggravating anything, and Jackie inspected the bed looking for how to work the mechanism to lift the head and knees. Just when Jesse got Brian into a sitting position and turned to pick up the extra pillow off the night table, Jackie pushed a button which lowered Brian completely flat, causing the pillow that Jesse intended to put behind Brian’s head to end up on his face. In a moment, they had it all fixed, and Brian was left shaking his head as both Jackie and Jesse looked impossibly contrite. Then he laughed, because he wasn’t hurt, and what else could one do after such a sideshow? Then Jackie and Jesse ed in and they all laughed like school boys until Brian’s phone started playing “Sergeant Pepper’s Lonely Heart’s Club Band,” which he’d once again set for his Scotland Yard ringtone, and the room went otherwise silent.

“It’s the Yard,” Brian said. “What day is it?” Jackie said, “Tuesday.” Brian hadn’t waited for the answer, before speaking into the phone. “Harrison.” “Ah, yes. Harrison,” said Petra Shiells. “Can’t keep your ass out of some crazy murderous bastard’s gunsights for even a few weeks?” “Heh. I take it you’ve heard about my run in with Agents -- or former agents, I guess -- Heylens and Farnsworth.” “Indeed I have. So, considering that, how are you?” “A little frostbite, otherwise fine -- at least as far as I can tell.” “Frostbite? How did you work that?” “Well,” he drew out the syllable, “it comes easy when you’re lying mostly naked, hogtied in the snow of a winter night in the Scottish Cairngorms.” His tone was a bit snarky, and he knew one shouldn’t snark his prospective boss, but he couldn’t help it. “Ah, yes. I see. Well, then, on to business. We’ve got the for your interview set up for Thursday. You’ll be here, right as rain by then?” “You can count on me.”

* * * The frostbite wasn’t deep, and the treatment Brian had received happened quickly enough to be optimal. He itted to Jackie that his fingers and toes were sore, and when they kissed his chapped lips felt rough, but the doctors had assured them both the flesh wasn’t dying. As long as he kept warm and cushioned his digits with gloves and socks, he should be fine. They hadn’t kept him in the hospital, and by Tuesday night they were once again on a ScotRail train, this time bound across the Cairngorms to Edinburgh. Jackie did a lot of thinking on the train, and he and Brian did a little talking. Right now, the new trauma they’d both endured seemed distant and unimportant,

“But that’s deceptive, Bri. It’s going to hit us both. In different ways at different times. We’re going to need to deal with it.” “At this rate, I’ll be in therapy for the rest of my life.” Jackie smiled, teasing. “ the club.” Still, at the moment, nothing seemed terrifying. For a little while -- Jackie knew from both experience and training -- life would feel like sailing through a calm sea. A little gift of human nature, this tendency of the brain to convince itself everything’s okay, to put off consequences until later. But while it lasted, no real reason existed not to enjoy the moment. They held hands and dozed for the rest of the trip, and got to Edinburgh in time to take a redeye across the water to London. By Wednesday afternoon they’d checked in to their hotel. No ancient stones and cohabiting with ghosts this time, but a cozy fireside which -- oddly -- caused Jackie to experience a long minute of missing all the fourleggeds in the family. The hotel was the St. Pancras Renaissance, not the most luxurious in London, but something they never could have afforded if Sonny hadn’t insisted they deserved a bit of luxury. It boasted renaissance style, but it wasn’t truly quite that old, having been built sometime in the late 19th century. Much newer and different in style than some of Glasgow’s dark antique places, but Jackie, for one, was perfectly happy not to be reminded of their Scottish adventure. They ordered room service and ate, napped for a couple of hours, showered separately to rid themselves of two days’ worth of sweat and the grime of travel. When Brian came out of the shower, he was dressed in his second-best pair of worn jeans. The best pair, the ones he’d always worn to please Jackie when in Dom mode, had bit the dust during frostbite treatment. He was also bare-chested and barefoot and focused on toweling his hair dry as if to teach it submission. Jackie was waiting, a little bit nervous, but determined once again to not let disaster deter them from their favorite ways of loving each other. He wore briefs that were less than bikini, a form fitting tank cut to show off his shoulders and the tops of his pecs, and his red hair wild as flame. He brought Brian three shining coils of rope -- his favorite colors: deep red, green, and silver.

He’d thought carefully how to address Brian when making his request. He’d decided not to start with “Sir.” That would almost take away Brian’s choice, because it would mean he was asking for a session, and if he asked in that direct fashion, Brian would think it was his job as a Dom to make it happen. That wasn’t what Jackie wanted. He wanted a session. But he wanted Brian to want it too. It seemed a serious matter. “Brian,” he said softly, holding out the ropes. “What they did to us in Aviemore, trying to trap me in the ropes you’d bound me in, tying you up and leaving you lying in the snow… In a way, it twisted your beautiful art into something ugly, something unspeakable. But I can’t bear the thought of you having that in your mind when you think of the ropes. If you can, if you want, I’d like you to wipe that from both our minds. Make beauty instead.” Brian, whose face, Jackie noticed, had acquired some new lines of worry and care since Scotland, locked his green gaze on Jackie. He seemed to be searching. Then one side of his mouth quirked into a small smile, and he took a deep breath. “Jackie?” “Yes.” “Give me your safewords.” Jackie smiled. “Yellow, Sir. Yellow and Red.”

Dedication and Acknowledgment

Dedication:

To workers in light the world over.

Acknowledgments:

Thank you to everyone who waited patiently while this book came into being. Among them, thank you specifically to Changeling Press, my editor, and readers. Also I thank my family and those friends who help hold me up when my spirit flags.

Lou Sylvre

Lou Sylvre loves stories and likes to conjure them into books. When the stories are about love, the sweethearts on her pages are most often men who end up loving each other and likely saving each other from unspeakable danger. As if you’d want to know more, she’ll happily tell you that she is a proudly bisexual woman -- a mother, grandmother, and cat-herder (with a dog). Her love of languages is no doubt a result of her interestingly mixed up heritage. Her over-the-top love of her rainbow-colored demi-tasse set cannot be adequately explained. She also loves music coffee, chocolate, and wild roses. As a writer, she works closely with lead cat assistant Boudreau St. Clair. Lou grew up in the Los Angeles area, where barefoot was always best for a kid. She now lives in the lush, rainy part of the Pacific Northwest, and hearing from a reader unfailingly brightens the dismal weather. Lou at Changeling: changelingpress.com/lou-sylvre-a-211