Chapter 14 EZRA
We were having fun, but the seriousness of everything came down on me all at once.
It had been a couple of days since we arrived in Vermont and nobody knew we’d crossed state lines.
From what I assumed, everyone thought we’d left the country.
I couldn’t even tell my legal team, all they knew was that I was ready whenever they needed me, and the FBI agent, Dina, had been instructed to share all information with them.
We were building my defense, because now I was massively on the defense.
I’d never had such a huge negative force coming for me, the most hate I’d had was for myself, for not being good enough at the sports my folks wanted.
They’d always told me I could go to the Olympics with my gymnastics, but every single time they did, I didn’t want to do it anymore.
It was another morning where Jacques was awake before me.
I woke with him sometimes, but today I kept my eyes screwed shut as I allowed my brain to bash and beat me up.
I was all about the train of what bad things could happen—I could’ve been arrested and thrown into prison for theft—stealing IP, or whatever they’d say.
Jacques was a light through it all, cutting away at my negative thoughts like he was wielding some super sword.
He brought through a tray of food. I had oats, bacon, toast, waffles, it was like he was trying to fatten me up.
“We’re sharing,” he said before my big eyes could get carried away.
I was already salivating. “Let me get the drinks. I made a pot of tea. Some . . . I don’t know, it’s the one with the fancy packaging. ”
It turned out there was even more food in this place.
A lot of it was tinned, but there were boxes of fruity tea sealed away beside large commercial containers of coffee.
I wondered how long we might be here to get through it all, or why he had so much in the first place.
Jacques liked his coffee black, and very bitter, so perhaps it would be easy for him to get through.
“This all smells amazing,” I said. “If people saw this side of you, I think—”
He shook his head, sliding the second tray over my lap, locking me in place. “No,” he said, climbing back into bed beside me, carefully, so as not to knock me or the food and drinks. “Everyone should know how to cook, clean, and take care of their partner. Like, that’s a given. Everyone.”
“You won’t let me cook for you,” I said.
“Because I’m having a lot of fun cooking for you,” he said, kissing my cheek. “We’ve got strawberry jelly, honey, maple syrup, and butter.”
“Strawberry jelly?” I asked, making a winced face. “Where did you—”
“It’s new,” he said. “Not everything here has been here for months. I grabbed it from the gas station. Had the ribbon . . . looked homemade, sorta.”
I’d slept since then, and everything had been turned upside down after hearing those bodies fall—and then there was my legal team calling every day to check in. It was intense. Of course I didn’t have space to remember the jelly. “Have you tried it?”
He dipped his finger into it, swirling it around then licking it clean. “It’s delicious,” he said.
“Does it have seeds?” I asked, trying to see the residue on his finger.
His finger went into the pot again, and this time we looked at it, then he put it in my mouth.
“No seeds,” he said. “And how does it taste?” His finger was swishing around against my tongue, and my teeth, and for a moment I thought he was going to make me gag on it.
He laughed, pulling his finger back out. “It’s a very loose hole, kitten.”
Licking my lips, it was surprisingly delicious. “That was my mouth, not my—” I stopped myself from getting too animated and having the breakfast going all over. “It was nice.”
“Aw, kitten’s first outburst, almost,” he said, pinching my cheek with his sticky fingers. “Think we should go explore today. We’ve kinda been stuck inside while I tested the waters.”
I nodded. “I’m having the entire waffle for that,” I said.
Jacques finally took the second table from over my legs and placed it over his lap where we switched over cups and plates to share the breakfast. It had been nice in the house, and Jacques had made sure nobody was around or watching us through some fancy tech equipment.
I just accepted everything he said, and worked on thinking about what I’d say when people came for us—for my statement.
* * *
Fresh air was well needed, especially here.
We were in a slightly out of the main town area.
People were around by the river, kids mostly, throwing sticks and stones into it.
We walked hand in hand until Jacques spotted a log he liked the look of, and under his arm it went.
I saw some worms on it, so I kept my distance
This was how life should be, filled with moments where I wasn’t thinking about who was trying to kill me, or even that people were trying to attack me. I should’ve been laughing, smiling, and wondering where Jacques had been all my life.
“I think we could get a smoker for out the back,” he said. “Smoke some meat, barbecue it and stuff.”
“I knew you were inspired,” I laughed. We’d watched a lot of cooking shows on TV the last couple of days.
They were mostly competition shows and oh my gosh, they made me so hungry just watching them.
The way the meat would fall of the bone and how all those juices just looked so finger licking good.
“I think it’s a good idea. I also think if we’re going into town for groceries, maybe we could stop by a bar, or the rink.
I like the way skates make me feel free. ”
Jacques dropped the log as he inspected another. He looked up at me and smiled. “We could, but I think we need to wait a couple more days before we go out into the town,” he said.
I pulled his beanie down over his eyes. “At least we’ve got this view.”
His big arms tackled around my thighs, and his face was pressed into my sweats. He looked up at me, nuzzling his chin gently into my balls. “I’m very happy with this view,” he said, pulling back the beanie. “Do you wanna give me a hand carrying these logs back?”
I tried to escape his grasp, but he was strong, and I didn’t actually want to be let go. “You could carry me back.”
The house wasn’t far at all, I just liked the idea of the ultimate caretaking ritual—of him carrying me.
“I’d love to, but I know you’ve got to get those legs stretched out,” he said, moving his head down and biting my thigh.
“Mhm.” He left a wet mark where his teeth were.
“Was that a no to helping me with this wood?”
Once more, I played with his beanie, pushing it over his eyes. “I’ve handled your wood enough,” I giggled. “But if you’re talking about those wormy logs, then no. You can do that yourself.”
He went back in with his ticklish bite, getting both thighs and making it look like I’d dribbled on myself after peeing. “Get on my back,” he said.
From his position, I hugged my arms around his shoulders, pulling his beanie back for him to see. I held myself in place as he stood tall with two logs under his arms, my legs around his waist, squeezing tight. I hoped none of the bugs from the wood got on me. They didn’t—just some dirt.
“You know we’re gonna get through this,” he said. “Together.”
I squeezed harder, with my heels around his waist, like I was a jockey and he was a horse. “Together. Giddy up.” I giggled as he stomped through the wood, snapping twigs underfoot. “I’m surprised you managed to get the jump on anyone.” It was a thought my voice let out the moment it was there.
“Trust me, it’s a task,” he said, this time purposefully throwing a leg down onto a branch and letting the snap echo through the woodland. “But most of the time, I’m either—” He paused. “Do you actually wanna hear how I do it?”
I did. “I think—” Air hitched in my throat for a moment as I processed. “Yes,” I said. “It’ll help me feel comfortable knowing just how much you’ve done.”
“How much,” he snickered. “Or how many people I’ve killed?”
I clung to him tighter. “Yeah, the same thing, grammar police over there.”
“No, no, no, that . . . I was just clarifying whether you meant killing or—” He tried turning his head to see me, but I dodged his side glances.
I think I felt comfortable asking him questions when he wasn’t looking directly at me.
It was exciting when we were together, learning about each other, but it almost felt secret being on his back like a turtle shell.
“You’ve got to understand a couple of things.
I’ve never killed someone who didn’t deserve it.
I’ve always taken the jobs I knew were about taking out shitty humans. ”
“How do you know if someone is shitty?”
He continued to haul the logs underarm and me on his back, his steps heavier as he grunted. “Well, a shitty person is probably someone who’s killing people, someone who’s out there thinking they can just do whatever they want and profit off it.”
I had more questions. I always had more questions. “So, how many of them have you killed?”
“A hundred,” he said.
“A guess?”
“Yes,” he laughed. “It’s not as easy as that. I was in the armed forced in my twenties. Left because . . . well, fuck being used as a puppet for the army.”
“The army,” I said.
“I’ve definitely told you about that,” he said. “I was in the army for four years, and another four in the reserves. You never get shit, they just tell you where you’re going, then that’s it. You’re a presence in an area more than anything. And yeah, we’re usually there for our own interests.”
I clung to him tighter. I didn’t know if he needed my backwards hug, but he was getting it.
I didn’t know about his experience, but maybe the added component of being gay didn’t help—or he was totally oblivious to it.
I wasn’t going to dig any further. He was what I might’ve called a meat head if that first date hadn’t gone so well, someone who was all big, muscular, probably didn’t know how to process their emotions . . . but he was different.
We reached the house and Jacques threw the logs into the wood hutch round the side. There was a large stump beside it used for splitting in wood in two. He pulled me around his body and sat me on the wood fencing at the side of the house in the small part acting as a porch.
“I try not to think about my time in the army,” he said.
“I get it,” I said, sliding a hand up the side of his face and stroking his facial hair. “I won’t ask about it.”
“Kitten, it’s okay to ask,” he said, pulling my hand close into his face and kissing my palm.
“My life is completely different now. I learned discipline in the army, I learned focus. It taught me so much, and I’m grateful for the opportunity it gave me.
People respect that I served. And I’ve gone from being a pawn in the government to being in control of my life—even if I’ve been connected to multiple agencies, mercenaries, and gun-for-hire shit.
” He shook his head, eyes closed, and continued to press his face deep into my palm.
“So, does that mean you’ll no longer follow orders?” I asked in a giggle.
“From you?” He winked at me. “Maybe, but I’m the one who gives the orders, kitten.”
My toes curled up with excitement. “Yeah,” I offered in breathless excitement. “What kind of orders?”
“Only fun ones,” he said. “But as long as they keep our cover.”
“Right, we’ve got fake names,” I said, nodding.
“And we’re married.”
The idea gave me butterflies. I mean, it wasn’t an absolutely crazy idea. Loads of celebs did it. The entire premise of Las Vegas must’ve been founded on the idea of quickie marriages, and sure, expensive divorces in the office buildings right next door. “So, we’ve got to do married people things.”
He kissed me. “Like that?”
I nodded, accepting another kiss and tickle from his scratchy beard.
“What about me getting a smoker and starting to barbeque?”
“Well, that’s definitely husband stuff,” I said.
“Making you the wife?”
I swatted a hand at his jacket, then moved my hand up his neck and playfully squeezed him. “And I don’t even have a diamond ring.” I snorted back laughter. “But no, we’re both husbands. Let’s not put all that het stuff on ourselves.”
“All that het stuff,” he repeated with a big smile.
“Yeah, I don’t know, you know, like having children and making friends with other families, where all the conversation is about preschool and where everyone is vacationing during the break.
” As I said the words, thoughts came flooding back from when I’d been working in an office where those exact conversations took place.
A shudder ran through me, almost making me leap off the fence into Jacques’s arm.
“Is killing for love part of that het stuff?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Maybe, I don’t know. I hope not. I think that’s just an us thing. And I hope you don’t have to kill more people.”
“I’ll do anything to keep you safe,” he said, staring me in the eyes. “Anything.”
“Maybe we should get that smoker,” I said. “Get some hobbies.”
“And what will you do?” he asked, holding my face to keep me staring at him.
“I’ve got legal prep and stuff to do,” I told him. “And I’ve been mapping the town. A list of places I want to visit when we’re in the clear.”
He kissed me on the forehead. “That won’t do, but we’ll find something to keep you occupied—and no, not my dick. I know your filthy mind went there.” He kissed my forehead again. “I can read your mind.”
It wasn’t my immediate thought. I giggled. “I do like to read, and there’s a bookstore in town.”
“A couple more days kitten, we’ve just got to wait.”