Chapter 11 Jagger #2
"Now I want you to shut up and keep going."
He laughs, low and delighted, and by the time I count to twenty, I'm fully hard and leaking steadily into his palm.
"Told you," he murmurs. "Under thirty."
"Shut up. It was thirty-five."
"Mouthy today, aren’t we?”
I grab the back of his neck and kiss him, swallowing whatever other smartass comment he was about to make. He laughs against my mouth, hand still working my cock with slow, deliberate strokes.
"Blanket," he says between kisses. "Grab the blanket. Unless you want to explain the stains to your brother."
I reach for the throw draped over the opposite seat, pull it across our laps. It's cashmere, soft and warm, and it's about to be ruined for a very good cause.
"Give me that cock," I tell him, sliding my hand into his sweatpants. He's hard already, cock straining against the fabric, and when I wrap my fingers around him, he groans into my mouth.
"Fuck. Your hands are cold."
"Warm them up."
"That's not how— ah, fuck, okay, that works."
We jerk each other off under the blanket, messy and graceless, hidden under the blanket, just in case the attendant decides to make a surprise visit. His hand speeds up, and I match his rhythm. The cabin fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the wet slide of skin on skin.
"This is ridiculous," I mutter.
"This is fun." He twists his wrist on the upstroke, and I have to bite back a groan. "Remember fun? It's this thing normal people have, bet I’ll last longer then you." He smirks.
"I'm not normal."
"No shit." He kisses my jaw, my neck, the spot behind my ear that makes me shiver. "And yet here you are, about the cum into my hand."
I speed up my strokes, grip tightening. His breath hitches, and I feel his cock twitch in my hand, feel his hips starting to stutter.
"Close," he warns.
"Already? And you were bragging about your stamina."
"Fuck you. You're good at this. It's annoying."
"I'm good at everything. It's one of my few redeeming qualities."
He laughs, breathless and genuine, and the sound does something to my chest. Something warm. Something I don't have a name for but am starting to recognize.
"Come for me," I tell him. "Nice and quiet. Don't want the pilot to hear."
"You're such a bastard." But he buries his face in my shoulder as his body tenses, as his cock pulses in my grip, spilling hot and wet over my fingers.
The feel of it, the smell of it, the way he shakes apart against me pushes me over too, and I come with a grunt, my own release adding to the mess under the blanket.
We sit there for a moment, breathing hard, hands still wrapped around each other's softening cocks. The cashmere is definitely ruined. I can't bring myself to care.
"We ruined the blanket," Jonah observes.
"It's Jace's blanket. He can deal with it."
"You're going to make your brother clean up our cum. That's cold."
"He's had worse. Trust me. Besides, he will probably just get the staff to burn it."
Jonah snorts, pulling his hand free and wiping it on the cashmere. "I like this version of you. The one who makes cum jokes and has orgasms on airplanes and doesn't look like he's figuring out seventeen ways to murder everyone in the room."
"I'm still calculating. I'm just also having orgasms."
"Multitasking. Sexy." He kisses me, slow and sweet, tasting like the coffee he drank before takeoff. "I'm already used to all of you, Jagger. The murder tendencies included."
I don't know what to say to that. So I just hold him, blanket covering the evidence of our indiscretion, and watch the clouds drift past the window while Switzerland approaches.
We land at a private airstrip in the Swiss Alps three hours later. The mountains rise around us, white-capped and ancient, and the air is cold enough to bite when we step off the jet.
A black SUV waits on the tarmac. The driver's door opens, and Jace steps out.
He looks different. Softer, somehow. The hard edges that used to define him have smoothed out, and there's color in his cheeks that wasn't there before. Six months of sex and good food will do that, I suppose.
"Brother," he says.
"Brother."
We don't hug. We've never been huggers. But he grips my shoulder, and I grip his..
Then his eyes move to Jonah, standing slightly behind me, and his expression shifts to something more assessing.
"So this is him."
"This is him," I confirm. "Jonah, my brother Jace. Jace, Jonah."
"The one you destroyed and then fell in love with," Jace says. "Quite the meet-cute."
Jonah grins. "I've been calling it a trauma bond, but meet-cute works too."
Jace's mouth twitches. "I can see why you like him."
"Most people find me exhausting within the first hour," Jonah says. "It's a gift."
"Get in the car." Jace opens the back door. "Elliot's waiting at the cabin. He made soup. Don't ask me what kind. He's been experimenting."
We climb into the SUV. Jace takes the driver's seat, and we pull away from the airstrip, winding up a narrow mountain road that climbs higher and higher into the peaks.
"The Ministry will know you're gone by now," Jace says, eyes on the road. "They'll start looking."
"I filed a transport order before we left. Told them I was taking the asset to a black site in Eastern Europe for processing. Should buy us a few days before they realize it was fake."
"And after that?"
"After that, we move fast." I watch the mountains pass. "Kreiss is in Geneva, supposedly. If we can get to his records, we can expose the Custodians who funded Project Omega. All of them."
"That's a big play."
"It's the only play."
Jace nods slowly. "Jinx wants in. He's been itching for action since Webb fell. I've been keeping him on a leash, but if this is really happening..."
"It's really happening." I look at him. "I'm not going back, Jace... not unless we’re at the top."
"I know." He glances in the rearview mirror, at Jonah, who's gazing out the window at the scenery. "Elliot told me something once. He said the hardest part of becoming human again was realizing you had a choice. That you'd always had one, but they trained you to forget."
"Sounds like Elliot."
"He's usually right." Jace's hands tighten on the wheel. "We're with you, brother. All the way.”
I don't trust myself to respond. So I just nod, and watch the road, and think about choices. About the ones I've made, and the ones still to come.
The cabin appears around a bend in the road, high up on the cliff.
A-frame construction, all wood and glass, nestled into the mountainside like it grew there.
Smoke rises from the chimney, and warm light glows in the windows.
It looks like something out of a travel magazine, the kind of place where people go to escape their problems.
Our problems followed us here. But at least we have good scenery.
Elliot is waiting on the porch. He's smaller than I remember, dark-haired and sharp-eyed, wrapped in a sweater that's clearly too big for him. Jace's, probably. He waves as we pull up, and I see the way my brother's face softens at the sight.
I remember when Jace took Elliot. A trembling asset with a number instead of a name, terrified of his own shadow. Now he's standing on a porch in the Swiss Alps, rolling his eyes at something Jace is doing, looking for all the world like he belongs here.
That's what love does, I’d imagine. It makes you belong somewhere you never expected.
"Welcome, brother," Jace says again as we climb out of the SUV.
"You already said that."
"I'm trying to be welcoming. My fuck. Elliot says I need to work on my social skills."
Elliot descends the porch steps, his bare feet crunching on the gravel. "I said you need to stop looking like you're about to murder everyone who approaches. Different thing."
"Same result," Jace mutters.
Elliot stops in front of me, tilting his head up to meet my eyes. I'm taller than him by a good six inches, but he doesn't seem intimidated. He never has been.
“Nice to see you again, Jagger," he says. "We never got to know each other, but Jace talks about you. He says you're the smart one."
"I'm the strategic one. There's a difference."
"Is there?" His eyes are sharp, assessing. "Seems to me strategy got you on the run with a target on your back. Maybe you're not as smart as everyone thinks."
Jonah steps up beside me, grinning. "I like him."
"Everyone likes me," Elliot says. "It's a survival mechanism. When you're small and surrounded by killers, being likeable is the only advantage you have."
"That's dark, holy shit."
"That's honest." Elliot's mouth curves into a smile that transforms his face. "Come inside. There's soup. And whiskey. And a fireplace. If we're going to plan the downfall of a centuries-old shadow organization, we might as well be comfortable."
We follow him up the porch steps and into the cabin. The interior is warm, all exposed wood and soft lighting, the smell of something savory drifting from the kitchen. It feels like a home. Not a safehouse. Not a strategic position. An actual home.
I'm not sure I've ever been in one before.
"Sit," Elliot orders, pointing at the couch. "I'll get bowls."
Jonah flops onto the cushions, pulling me down beside him. Jace takes the armchair across from us, watching with an expression I can't quite read.
"You look different," he says to me.
"I haven't slept properly in weeks. I imagine I look terrible."
"Not what I meant." He leans forward, elbows on his knees. "You look... lighter. Like you put down something heavy."
"I put down the pretense that I was still one of them."
"That's what I meant."
Elliot returns with bowls of soup, distributing them with an air of confidence that suggests he's done this many times. He settles onto the arm of Jace's chair, and my brother's hand comes up automatically to rest on his thigh.
We eat in silence for a few minutes. The soup is good. Better than good. Elliot watches us with the satisfaction of someone who knows their cooking is being appreciated.
"So," he says finally. "What's the plan?"
"We identified a Phase Two facility," I say. "Here in Switzerland. A fertility clinic outside Geneva that's connected to Project Omega through Kreiss's financial network."
"The same Kreiss you've been investigating?" Elliot asks Jace.
"The same. He's the financial backbone of the whole operation. If we can expose his records, we can bring down everyone connected to the program."
"And if you can't get to his records?"
"Then we go to the facility directly. Gather evidence. Documentation. Testimony." I set down my bowl. "The children being manufactured there deserve to know the truth about what they are. What we all are."
Jace is quiet for a moment. Then: "You're talking about exposing The Silent. Not just Project Omega. The whole structure."
"Eventually. Yes."
"That's a war, Jagger. Not a skirmish… a full-scale war against an organization that's been operating in shadows for centuries."
"It’s more of a siege."
"And you're ready for that?"
I look at Jonah, who's watching me with those dark, knowing eyes. At Elliot, curled against my brother like he belongs there. At Jace, who gave up everything for the chance to feel something real.
"I'm ready to stop being their weapon," I say. "Whatever comes with as far as consequences."
Jace nods slowly. "Then we're with you. All the way."
"Jinx?"
"He's been waiting for this. You know how he gets when he's bored." Jace's mouth curves. "I'll contact him. Bring him up to speed. When you're ready to move, we move together. He’s been hounding me non-stop to give him a reason to come back here. He likes to ski, apparently."
"For now, rest," Elliot says. "Both of you look like you haven't slept in days. There's a guest room down the hall. Clean sheets. No one will bother you."
"We have work to do—"
"Tomorrow." Elliot's voice is firm. "You're no good to anyone running on fumes. Rest tonight. Plan tomorrow."
I want to argue. There's so much to do, so little time, the Ministry closing in with every passing hour.
But Jonah's hand finds mine, and his thumb traces circles on my palm, and suddenly the exhaustion I've been holding at bay crashes over me like a wave.
"Okay," I say. "Tomorrow."
We follow Elliot down the hall to a small room with a view of the mountains. The bed is soft, the sheets clean, and when Jonah curls against me in the darkness, his breath evening out into sleep, I let myself relax for the first time in weeks.