Ultimate Sanction Page 7

  He pulled his mouth from mine. “That’s it, Mac. Feel, take, I’ll give you whatever you need. God, yes…” he arched as I savaged his neck, biting and licking. I needed it, all of it and I rolled over him, the skin on skin contact overwhelming me in ways a firefight never could. I had never felt this before, a connection so powerful I wanted it to devour every part of my being. Fire roared in my blood. Is this what sex should feel like? Is this what I’d been missing for so many years?

  “Fuck, I always knew you’d be an animal in bed,” Jacob moaned while my teeth savaged the thick muscle over his clavicle.

  I needed more but I didn’t know what I needed more of, so I tore at the boxers covering his hips and managed to get him out of them. A breathless chuckle left Jacob before my mouth took over his and swallowed every moan. The moment I freed him of the underwear our bodies locked tight and his cock touched mine.

  The strange keening sound in the room came from me, it took long seconds to understand that, and Jacob’s hands were now soothing not arousing. “Shh, it’s alright, I’ve got you. This is going to feel strange and scary, but you trust me, right?” he asked, brushing sweaty hair off my face.

  My hips still rocked against the taut body I wanted to claim. I buried my face in his neck and murmured, “Help me, please.”

  Jacob’s tongue found my mouth and took over. His hand pushed between our bodies and that strong fist closed over both our leaking cocks. The first time his thumb brushed over my tip everything in me shuddered and I began to mindlessly fuck into his grip. It felt amazing, another man’s hand – Jacob’s hand – holding my cock tight, his pace matching mine and the velvet steel of his thick hard length just as overwhelming as his hand.

  “Come for me, Mac.”

  Sweat slicked our bodies and the gathering storm inside me broke open and made me cry out at the tremendous agonised pleasure that roared through me. Jacob groaned low in his throat and the heat of his release hit my body just seconds after mine. His hand continued to pump, making us both shudder until I whimpered the need for him to stop. Rather than roll away from me though, Jacob drew me closer and continued to kiss but with feather light care.

  It took a long time for my heart and head to join forces again in this world and his gentleness had a large part in me coming down on the right side of dealing with my first time fucking a bloke. ‘Fucking’, who was I kidding? This wasn’t sex. I’d had sex and it didn’t feel like this.

  “You alright?” Jacob asked, having wiped his hand on the bed sheet before touching my face.

  I stared into those familiar amber eyes and knew I’d tumbled down a rabbit hole I never wanted to escape. He blurred in front of me and his head bumped against mine.

  “Just sleep, Mac. We’ll find words tomorrow. Hold me and sleep.”

  I sniffed in a manly effort to keep the swirling emotions under some kind of control and tried to find words to reassure him, but he didn’t need reassurance. I needed reassurance and holding him close, in the dark night, seemed like the wise move.

  The smell of cooking bacon made me wake up. That and coffee. Two of my favourite things in the world. The third favourite, not in that order of course, stood whistling in the small kitchen when I dragged myself out of our bunk.

  He grinned at me. “Morning, handsome.”

  I rubbed my hand through my straggly hair. “What time is it?”

  Jacob handed me a tin cup of coffee, the heat almost too much. “11:30 hours. We slept well.”

  “Christ, I haven’t slept that late in years,” I muttered.

  The burn of his hungry eyes travelled over my naked body and my cock stirred with surprising speed. “You gonna get dressed?” he asked.

  I looked down at the beast who had suddenly become my best friend in the world. “No. Thought I’d shower and take you back to the pit to try something new.”

  Jacob laughed. A sound of such freedom and delight I stood there, coffee halfway to my mouth, just gazing at him while the sunlight threw hints of gold through the short tawny hair.

  “Where’d you get the scran?” I asked to distract myself.

  “Old guy next door. He tried selling me the chickens to go with the eggs, but I managed to convince him we weren’t going to be here long enough.” Jacob cracked an egg into the bacon fat and jumped back at the sizzle. “Go and sit, I’ll serve you first as you don’t like cooked bacon.”

  “I don’t like burned bacon, Jacob. There’s a difference. I can’t believe you remember how I like my bacon.” I sat on the chair, the cold wood making my naked arse smart.

  “How many cups of coffee does it take to make me an irritable bastard?” Jacob asked.

  “Four,” I said, without thinking.

  He came over with a plate of bacon and eggs. “That’s how I remember what you like for breakfast,” he said, dropping a kiss on my head. “Tuck in, there’s plenty more.” We ate in silence for a while.

  “When is this Colonel Brant supposed to be coming?” Jacob asked after we’d both stuffed our faces for a few minutes in silence.

  “Anytime now. I sent the co-ordinates yesterday.” I chugged down more coffee and went for a refill.

  “You really trust her?” Jacob asked.

  “More than most. We need to get back to Kinshasa though if we’re going to find Clark.”

  The tension behind me became a wave of sadness. “I need to find the bodies of my team. I have to report in. I should –”

  “No, Jacob. Brant was right. Someone targeted the team and they’ll come for you. Staying in Kinshasa without knowing who or what caused that explosion would have been a disaster and running was the right move. We stay here, regroup and go back with a plan.” I approached him and for the first time since I’d woken, dared to touch him. The small caress to the back of his neck made tingles chase over my fingers and Jacob leaned into my thigh.

  “I can’t believe they’re all gone,” he whispered.

  We deal in death, as elite soldiers. We cause it. We endure it among our friends, our family, but it always hurts. Or at least it should. When we stop caring about the bodies of our comrades it turns us bad and I’d seen it happen more than once over the years.

  I sat and reached for Jacob’s hand, still marvelling I could do such a simple thing and the sky wouldn’t fall down on my head as punishment. “We’ll get them, whoever is responsible. We’ll get them.”

  We ate more food, showered and I was just about to drag Jacob back to bed when the growl of a hel shattered the peace of the small community. Jacob and I shared a single glance before we both grabbed our 9mm Glocks and Jacob ran out of the back door as I left the front. The trees started to dance, and monkeys screeched in protest while children seemed to appear from nowhere to watch the small dark olive hel appear over the horizon. I identified it as a Huey Cobra AH-1, the basic assault helicopter.

  The dust it kicked up, along with the rubbish and noise brought out all my neighbours, most of whom complained loudly, and I didn’t blame them. I watched it touch down. I kept the Glock at my side, hidden in the fabric of my unbuttoned green shirt, and saw the side door open. Twisting away from the rotor’s chaos made it hard to see who exited the vehicle but both bodies were too small to be enemies.

  The women’s feet touched the ground and the hel rose, vanishing over the trees. Colonel Brant walked towards me, straightening up the moment the downdraft stopped being a problem. With her back ramrod straight and in fatigues, Colonel Brant, despite having no insignia on her, looked every inch the officer. A part of me relaxed the moment she appeared and made eye contact. The younger woman behind her appeared to be equally well disciplined. I stepped off my porch, tucked my Glock into my waistband and saluted.

  “Colonel, it’s good to see you,” I said. The heels of my boots made a familiar click as I took a parade ground stance. I’d been free of all this nonsense for 3 years but the echoes of familiarity reverberated with eerie resonance.

  Brant returned the salute. “It’s good to s
ee you, Sergeant Macalister. Where’s your protégé?”

  Jacob came around from the side of house. Not knowing who might be in the hel he’d vanished into the perimeter and kept eyes on. “Colonel Brant,” he said, snapping off a salute.

  “Lance Corporal Hayes, it’s good to meet you and I’m very sorry for your loss.” She held out her hand and Jacob took it in surprise.

  “Thank you, ma’am.”

  “This is Sergeant Lydia Greenbrook. She’s my…” Brant hesitated to find the right word to describe the young woman.

  “Dog’s body, ma’am,” Lydia supplied.

  Brant’s mouth twitched in a smile. “I guess so, sorry about that.”

  “That’s alright, Colonel, you bring me to all the right places,” Lydia said eying the hut I called a house.

  “We have coffee,” I said by way of placating the young woman and she grinned at me.

  “Now you are my favourite,” she said. “Luke and Sam never give me coffee.” She walked past me carrying a large Bergen that probably weighed more than she did.

  9

  Brant had short dark brown hair, freckles and a wide face with deep crow’s feet and tan on what probably should be pale Irish skin. Her lips were firm, but she smiled more than frowned by the looks of things and age hadn’t robbed her of the elements that made her handsome rather than beautiful. Lydia clearly had mixed heritage and it gave her large dark eyes, long black hair and soft coco skin. If either Jacob or I swung that way she’d be in trouble, or maybe we’d be in trouble for even thinking we’d be good enough.

  By the time I reached the house Lydia already had more technology unloaded from the Bergen than the entire village contained. Small fans whirred as she set everything up and Jacob began more coffee.

  “Anyone want to eat?” he asked. Both women zeroed their attention onto him. “I’ll make more bacon and eggs,” he muttered.

  “I want a full report, Sergeant,” Brant said to me.

  “Mac, ma’am. I don’t deserve the rank. I was stripped of it.” I leaned against the doorway to the bedroom rather than sit.

  Brant’s eyes narrowed. “If I read the file correctly, which you know I have, the SIS operative called Clark is the reason you were bumped. I suspect you were trying to make some noise they didn’t like.”

  “They?” asked Jacob.

  “Not sure yet, Lance Corporal but we’re getting there,” Brant said. “I want a full report.” Her attention focused on me.

  I gave her the facts as we had them, from the moment the firefight began at the museum. Christ, had that only been yesterday morning?

  When I finished, Brant nodded. “I haven’t told Hereford I was coming here to meet you and I haven’t informed them Jacob’s alive. I have called your family though, son. Your mother wasn’t informed of your death so needless to say my call came as a relief once she realised I needed her to keep quiet and act like the mourning mother.”

  Jacob grinned. “Bet she’s enjoying the subterfuge. I always thought she’d make a good spy. Bloody great liar my mother.”

  I had met Jacob’s mother on a number of occasions, and I had to say, if I’d known my mother, I would want her to be just like Mrs. Hayes. Unfortunately, my mother left before I made it to my third birthday and my father decided it was my fault.

  “She certainly has a way about her,” Brant murmured. “So, Hereford currently think you are dead, Jacob. I’d like to keep it that way for the moment. The Head Shed in the Regiment are being difficult about giving me access to your mission parameters, but Lydia has managed to pull the relevant files from GCHQ.”

  Jacob glanced at Lydia and didn’t bother hiding his surprise. “You can do that?”

  “Give me a big enough lever and I’ll hack the world,” she muttered, quoting Archimedes while typing away on a virtual keyboard on my table. “Right, I’m in.”

  “In where?” Jacob asked sounding a little scared.

  Lydia glanced up at Jacob and smiled with an innocence that made his eyes widen. “Hereford.”

  I had no sympathy. Unit 12 were part of the new Special Operations Concept, small teams designed to go in with maximum tech back up and no visible footprint to hunt down and defuse those who would further destabilise already unstable areas of the world. If they could prevent even some of the shit I’d helped create by being boots on the ground in an all-out conflict, they had my vote.

  I sat beside the colonel and watched her screen as my military file popped up. “I can’t search for Lance Corporal Hayes’s without raising a flag because even I can’t mask well enough to hide all my activity, but we can access Mac’s and go into the mission through his because of the links to Clark.”

  More typing ensued and the final report on my attempt to prove Clark a spy-for-hire flashed over the screen. Jacob stood behind me, his eyes scanning the documents. I didn’t bother reading it. I hadn’t then and I didn’t want to now – it would hurt too much. My entire life, one I’d been proud of after my upbringing, gone in a flash because I kept asking the wrong questions to the right people. The people with influence, money and something rotten to hide.

  “If we piggyback –”

  “You were court martialled?” Jacob said over Lydia while looking at me.

  “No civil charges were brought,” I said, the quiet statement a fact and a lesson in how to ‘let shit go’.

  “But why the fuck did no one tell me? Did Lawson know?”

  Brant fielded the questions. “Mac didn’t tell you because he was ordered not to and no, your CO didn’t know. The dismissal became eyes-only because it involved an ongoing covert operation in Russia.”

  “Well, it fucking sucks,” muttered Jacob.

  Lydia returned to the task in hand. “Through this we can get into Clark’s files, the ones he’s sending back to The Firm anyway. Here’s the latest.” We all watched a report appear.

  To say it was brief was an understatement. The report stated with even less detail than we’d given Brant the destruction of the Forward Operating Base in Kinshasa.

  “He wasn’t there,” whispered Jacob. “This isn’t real. It’s not right. No one writes up a report like this after five men die on your watch.”

  “But he says he was there and escaped with his life because one of your friends protected him,” Brant said, pointing to the last part of the report.

  Jacob’s fury lashed through the small house. Fortunately, I didn’t own much to smash. “How fucking dare, he! I’ll rip his fucking heart out and make him eat it.” The low growl had a thread of grief and Brant rose to meet his anger.

  “You’ll have your chance, soldier. I can promise you that when we find him alive, you get first run at questioning him long before he can face justice in the UK,” Brant said. Her conviction that she’d let Jacob off his leash when the time came settled the warrior and brought him back from the edge.

  I remained calm, detached; allowing myself the luxury of rage over anything brought me too close to the path my father walked. I rarely indulged in alcohol for the same reason. My entire world had to be controlled, at all times. I glanced at Jacob, he represented the only person in this world I would lose everything for, including my control.

  “We need to think with our heads, not our hearts,” I said into the ensuing silence.

  “Yes, we do, Mac. So, I want you two back in Kinshasa and I want Clark found, then I want the contact you were supposed to find for the Regiment, and I want them brought to me,” Brant said. “At that point, gentlemen, we’ll find out what the fuck happened to your team and we’ll find out what to do next. The threats Hereford sent the team here to deal with haven’t lessened, so we move forwards with the mission while the rest of SIS are sat with their thumbs up their arses wondering what the hell just happened.”

  I couldn’t quite suppress my smile. I liked Brant, she rarely fucked about, didn’t play head games unless she needed to manipulate her ‘boys’ because they were being difficult and never left us behind enemy lines with
no back-up if she could avoid it.

  Jacob and I cooked up the last of the food, cleaned everything away and locked up the small house. He drove, I slipped into the back seat, giving the colonel the front. For some reason I wondered if I’d ever see the place again or if my time in DRC was coming to an end. Whether I returned to Hereford or not, the night before I’d stepped over a line I could never re-cross. I’d held a man in my arms, been intimate…

  The old rush of fear closed down the thoughts. A surge so powerful it turned my stomach but then I caught Jacob’s eyes in the mirror. The soft brown, like melted demerara sugar in the shaded light of the truck’s window, smiled at me and the fear washed back, stuffed into the closet I’d lived in all my adult life.

  “I want to know what you’re doing here, Mac,” Brant said.

  I glanced at Lydia. “How much do you already know?”

  She grinned at me. “How much do you feel comfortable with me knowing?”

  I rolled my eyes and Jacob chuckled. At that point I surrendered and gave Brant the full details of my work in the DRC. She nodded thoughtfully, asked some pertinent questions but seemed satisfied I’d done a good job training the men under my authority.

  She then turned her formidable attention to Jacob. “And you – how have you been coping without Mac standing at your shoulder?”

  Jacob looked at her for a moment, the traffic a little busier than it had been the night before. “Why? You interviewing me for a job?”

  A ghosting smile flickered over her face. “Perceptive. I’ve worked with Mac before but not you, so yes, I’m making sure you aren’t going to be a liability on this mission. Your file changes direction from perfect soldier to perfect pain-in-arse around the time Mac is bounced.”