It was almost time. She had a good hiding place. No one would see her until it was too late.
*****
Connor would have fallen asleep but for the tears that shone in Faith’s grey-green eyes. Overly romantic movies were not his thing. But the look on Faith’s face when “Titanic” came to an end took his breath away. “You look so beautiful,” he whispered, sure that she wasn’t paying any attention.
But she turned her head, her amazing eyes wet with unshed tears. “Connor…” She had no words to adequately describe what she felt, but she made an effort. “I didn’t mean to yell at you before.”
“It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. Why do you let me get away with it?”
“Why do you keep doing it if you know you’re hurting my feelings?”
A fat tear rolled down her left cheek, stopping at the corner of her mouth. Connor leaned forward and kissed the spot, his hands cupping her chin almost reverently. “I do love you, you know.”
“I know. I love you, too.”
“I’ll try to do better, Con.”
“Me, too.”
*****
Emmy lifted her head off Chris’ shoulder and peered misty-eyed at him. “That was a nice movie.”
Chris shook his head slightly in wonder. “I wouldn’t know. I didn’t see much of it.”
Emmy blushed. “Sorry. Guess I’m too much of a distraction.”
“Oh, Em, don’t be silly.”
He stood up and offered Emmy his hand. She gratefully accepted. Slowly but surely the foursome made their way to the end of the row. The lights hadn’t come up yet, but they could see well enough by the reflection off the screen. When they were approaching the stairway to the lobby, Emmy exclaimed, “Oh, no! I left my fanny pack on the seat next to mine.”
Chris nodded. “I’ll get it, Soleil.”
“Hurry, Chris. I have our ice cream money in it.” She smiled brightly, and Chris reacted as though he were in the presence of royalty.
“As you wish,” he said, tugging his forelock.
She watched Chris disappear back into the darkness at the top of the stairway. It was the last time she saw him.
*****
By the time all of them had taken turns using the bathroom and regrouped in the lobby, they realized that Chris never came back.
Emmy fretted. “I hope no one picked up my fanny pack.”
Connor shrugged. “There was hardly anyone in there, Em. Don’t worry. Chris probably stopped to compose a poem for you,” Connor said blithely, basking in the smile that generated in his direction.
After waiting an additional ten minutes, they started to become concerned. Faith looked up the stairway. When she didn’t see anyone, she headed for the manager’s office. “Something’s wrong. I can feel it.”
Connor called to her, “I’m sure he’s okay.”
Faith turned around and stopped dead in her tracks. “Yeah, well, I’m not.”
Emmy shivered nervously. “Connor, could you check the seats where we were sitting? Please? I have a bad feeling.”
“Em, if something did happen, and I’m not saying anything did, it’s better if we all stick together.”
The look of concern in Emmy’s silver-grey eyes changed to one of alarm. “Then get the manager, Fee. Hurry.”
Faith was accustomed to Emmy’s flashes of intuition, but this was different. It was serious, for one thing, and it involved her twin brother, for another. She took a step closer to Emmy, hesitating. “Is he okay, Em? Please say he’s okay.”
Emmy closed her eyes and concentrated for a few moments. When she opened her eyes again, she looked a bit calmer. “He’s okay.” A flicker of something uneasy creased her brow. “But I can’t feel where he is, Fee. I’m scared.”
Just then, Michael burst through the main entrance, his eyes searching back and forth for all four children. His gaze quickly locating Faith, he did a quick head count. “There are only three of you. Where’s Chris?”
“Dad, what are you doing here?”
“Uncle Michael, we can’t find Chris.”
“What do you mean, you can’t find him?”
Emmy stepped forward nervously. “I left my fanny pack inside. Chris went back to get it for me. But that was over twenty minutes ago.”
“Did you check the theatre?” Michael asked calmly, but inside, his heart was racing at an alarming rate. His son was missing, and he had no idea where to look for him.
Faith glanced at Emmy’s white face and jumped into the conversation. “I told them we should all stay together, Dad. I was just going to get the manager.”
Michael was torn. He didn’t want to tell them what might have happened to Chris. Suppose he was wrong? Suppose Fanning didn’t have Chris? Then what? Better not to have them wait outside in the Jeep. What if it wasn’t safe there? They would all be sitting ducks, ripe for plucking by Fanning or anyone else.
“Good idea, Fee,” he finally said, his voice curiously hoarse. Faith didn’t know which frightened her more: that her father agreed with her or that her father was visibly shaken yet not surprised that Chris was missing. It was as if he were expecting to hear that one of them had disappeared.
“Daddy?”
Michael barely had a moment to catch his breath before his daughter launched herself at him. She felt fear and anger thrumming throughout his body, just beneath the surface. Suddenly feeling the need to comfort him, she pressed her face against his chest. “It’s okay, Daddy. He’s not hurt. Emmy and I would feel it if he was.”
Michael looked startled. Both by her insight and her pronouncement. What was she saying? That Faith shared a bond with her twin that was often inexplicable was common knowledge. But Emmy? Did she have low-grade psychic abilities? Or was it simply the nature of the emotional connection between her and Chris?
He wrapped his arms around Faith. What happened to him was inconsequential. But for something, anything dire to befall his son was unthinkable. He beckoned to Emmy and Connor. “Faith was right. It’s important for all of you to stay together.”
“Uncle Michael, how did you know to come and get us? Did you know something happened to Chris? Is this…like last time?” That was the first time in recent memory that Connor referred to his abduction. God, had it really been eight years? It felt like a lifetime.
And it should never have happened again.
“You’re not going to get away with this.”
“Shut up.”
Chris wasn’t frightened. He was puzzled. He recognized Lisette as soon as he saw her, but he couldn’t imagine what she thought she was doing. Frankly, he didn’t think she was bright enough to come up with the idea of kidnapping him. Therefore, someone else, someone unseen was running things.
Which could be good. Or very, very bad.
Chris still had Emmy’s fanny pack clutched in his hands. He was a bit surprised that Lisette hadn’t taken it away from him, but then, she was preoccupied with getting him away from the theatre.
He studied her, peering at her through half-closed eyes, the way he’d seen his father do. His silence lulled Lisette into thinking that he’d given up, making her job much easier.
She didn’t have a gun. Of that much he was certain. If she hadn’t startled him in the theatre, she never would have been able to abduct him. He was trained in martial arts. He doubted that she could say the same. But his hands were tied, if not literally, figuratively.
Lisette possessed a certain feral grace and with that, an animal cunning that served her better than mere intellect. Threatening Chris with Emmy’s life was more than effective. For the longest time, he didn’t dare speak, sure that he would say something that would get Emmy killed.
“My father will come for me,” he said softly.
“Your father doesn’t know where you are.”
“He *will* find me. No matter where you hide me.”
“Then you’d better hope you’re really good at hiding, kid. Or your precious little Emmy’s history.”
Chris bit back a cry of pain. He refused to let her threats touch him, truly touch him, or he would go mad. He wanted to hurt her. No, more than that. He wanted to do brutal things, violent things, unspeakable things…and he could not let his mind go there.
It wasn’t his way. Anyone who knew Chris could see that peace was at the center of his being. He had no need for power or the terrible things that power could do.
He forced himself to think rationally, not emotionally. He didn’t believe that Lisette had Emmy. There wasn’t time to grab both of them. That meant she was lying. She could be lying about a lot of other things, too. But none of it mattered but Emmy’s safety. Could he take that risk? What if he was wrong? If he did something that led to Emmy getting hurt or worse, he would never forgive himself.
He needed more information. He needed more time. But Lisette was driving them further and further away from town, and she wasn’t heading in the direction of the chateau.
For a moment, Chris felt panic bubble up in his throat. What if his father couldn’t find him? What if he managed to get away, but he couldn’t find his way back home? What if he never saw Emmy or the rest of his family again?
*****
Emmy sat in the back of the Jeep, trying not to cry. She stared out the window, but she saw nothing but Chris’ face. Her fingers splayed across the glass, she whispered, “Chris, where are you?”
Michael glanced in the rearview mirror. He was worried about Emmy. She was taking Chris’ disappearance far worse than any of them, excluding himself. It reminded him of something, a memory that his mind couldn’t quite grasp.
Suddenly he realized what it was. When Michael was all but lost to Nikita, Nikita mourned the loss as though a part of *her* were missing. Perhaps it was. They were soulmates, their hearts and souls halves of the same whole. If Emmy were bonded to Chris that way…no, there was no “if”, she *was*. He could see it so clearly now.
Faith was curled up in the opposite corner of the backseat, Connor’s arms wrapped around her. Once Michael would have thought to stop them. Once he would have thought they were not ready for the emotional consequences of such an intimate relationship. But he couldn’t pull them apart. Not now. He thought that Connor was very likely the only thing holding Faith together right now.
*****
When the Jeep pulled up in front of the chateau, Michael barely had time to get out before he was besieged by the rest of the family, clamoring for information he simply didn’t have.
Nikita stepped into his space, looking pale and worn-out. He pulled her into his arms with a loud sigh. “Chris is missing, doucette,” he whispered.
Nikita heard the tears in his voice and began to sob. Great, heart-breaking sobs that destroyed the fragile truce Michael had come to with his own warring emotions. He buried his face in her hair, his hands clenched in tight fists around her neck. They might have stood there forever if Walter hadn’t intervened.
“Jesus, Michael, I’m sorry.” His own hands shaking with barely concealed fear and anxiety, Walter whispered, “Why don’t you help Nikita inside, Michael?” He didn’t need to add that it had to be scaring the kids to see their parents break down like this.
Walter opened the back door of the Jeep and beckoned to Faith. Suddenly she looked so small and defenseless. “Hey, Little Sugar, how’re you holding up?”
“Gran’pa?”
Faith’s eyes looked empty. She slid soundlessly out of the Jeep and stood unsteadily in Connor’s loose embrace.
“C’mere, honey,” Walter entreated, and Connor gave Faith a tiny push in the small of her back. She needed her family more than she needed him right now. He understood that.
Walter hugged the young girl, his kind blue eyes meeting Connor’s over her head. “Thanks for taking care of my girl.”
“No problem,” Connor answered without feeling anything. There was no pain, only a stillness inside him, a dark place that he couldn’t touch. What did it mean? What did any of this mean?
Connor turned away, his heart heavy, only to walk into his father’s arms. “Dad!”
Neil brushed at his eyes with his fingers. He didn’t care if Connor saw him cry. Madeline was the one who couldn’t bring herself to come downstairs and reassure her son. But Neil wanted Connor to know how much he worried about him, how much he would be missed if he were gone…how very much he loved him.
“Are you okay?” Neil asked.
Finally. Finally, Connor’s mind cried out. Someone who cares what happened to *me*. No, that’s not fair, he thought. Faith and Emmy stand to lose a hell of a lot more than I do. Of course everyone cares how they feel. But try as he might, he couldn’t tamp down that initial feeling of elation that rose up in his chest.
“God, Dad, I’m so glad to see you,” Connor said, meaning every word of it.
Sey pulled open the other door and stared at his daughter. She looked like she was in shock. “Emmy? Are you all right, sweetie?”
Sasha clung to his father, hiding his face against his chest, and Sey wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “She’s okay, kiddo. She’s okay,” Sey said, wondering precisely who he was supposed to be reassuring.
Declan burst out of the chateau, his boots tapping on the marble steps that led to the driveway. “Sey! Where’s Emmy?”
Sey raised his face as his lover approached at breakneck speed. “Dec!”
Declan took one look at Sey’s pallor and held him. He was trembling all over with reaction. “Oh, acushla,” he whispered as he pressed a kiss to his cheek.
“I’ve got Sasha. Can you t-take Emmy?” Sey sounded weak, like his voice was coming from far away.
Declan pulled his daughter out of the Jeep and swung her up and into his arms. “Da?” Emmy sniffled.
“I’m here, Princess Em,” Declan said huskily.
“I don’t feel much like a princess anymore, Da,” she said in a terribly small voice.
“Oh, Em.”
Miranda gave Nikita a sedative and put her to bed for the evening. The younger woman was so distraught that she couldn’t function, and watching his wife fall to pieces was tearing Michael up inside. Especially since there was nothing he could do.
He’d never felt so helpless in his life. He was trained to take action. Standing around, able to do nothing but worry was torture.
Michael needed information. Unfortunately, there was only one way to get it. By questioning Sasha. He was the one who had seen Fanning. He was the one who knew exactly what the man said…and how he said it.
It was a simple task, but an unenviable one. All he had to do was get past Declan and Birkoff.
*****
“No,” Sey said firmly, starting to close the door in Michael’s face.
“Birkoff—“
“Look, Michael, we may be living in your house, but that doesn’t give you the right to come in here and—“
“Think about it for a moment, Birkoff. *My* son is missing. *Your* son might have intel that could help me find him.”
“I said no.”
“Dammit, Birkoff, if it were your son—“
“Don’t you even say it, Michael! Maybe my son isn’t missing, but it’s *my* daughter who’s so fucking traumatized, she’s afraid to come out of her room.”
They stared at each other for the longest time, Sey refusing to back down, Michael trying to hide his very real fear that Chris was never coming back. Running through his remaining options, Michael abruptly realized that there were none.
In a voice that literally shook with tears, Michael begged Sey to reconsider. “Please….”
That struck an answering chord in Sey’s heart. Fear he understood. Pain he knew well. He had never expected to see Michael brought down this low. Frankly, it scared him.
“Okay, I’ll ask him. But the decision’s his. I won’t push him.”
Tears of relief flooded Michael’s dark grey eyes. “Thank you.”
*****
Sasha looked hopelessly young and vulnerable. His bravado gone, his illusions stripped away from him, he was just another teenage boy in search of a way to make all this mean something.
“What did he look like?”
Sasha sat cross-legged on the rug in the family room, his father hovering over his shoulder. With Emmy unable to face anyone but her immediate family, Declan remained at her side, ready to defend her to the death, if necessary.
“He was tall. Real tall.”
“Taller than Declan?”
“Umm…maybe a little bit taller, yeah.”
“How big was he?”
“He was *big*. Real muscular. Like he lift weights or something.”
“Anything else you noticed? The color of his hair, eyes? Anything?”
Sasha thought a moment, trying to picture the man who’d accosted him at the airport. “His hair was short. Brown, I think.” Sasha frowned. “He had blue eyes. And—no, it’ll just sound weird.”
Michael was ready to grasp at any straw proffered. “Tell me. I don’t care how weird it seems to you.”
“He was nice, y’know? He kept smiling at me, and his eyes were all twinkly, like he knew a really great secret, y’know?” At Michael’s look of disbelief, Sasha quickly added, “See? I told you it was weird.”
Michael flashed an enigmatic look at Sey. “What?” Sey asked blankly, feeling like there was something he was missing.
“You knew Fanning better than any of us, Michael. Does it sound like him to you?”
“I’m probably not the best judge of who David Fanning was,” Michael said, tension creeping back into his voice along with the unbidden memories.
“”He kidnapped Nikita,” Sey said by way of explanation to those who weren’t familiar with the story. Walter nodded. What little time had passed didn’t help to erase the lines of worry etched into his face
“He tried to kill her,” Michael said tersely.
Walter glanced at Sey before his tired eyes settled on Michael again. “You’ve got to get past that, Michael.”
“I don’t know if I can,” Michael ground out, raking a visibly shaky hand through his hair.
“It’s the only way you’ll be able to get inside his head. Find out what he’s thinking.”
“What if I don’t want to know?” Michael whispered.
“Maybe you’re too close to this to do what you need to do, Michael,” Walter counseled. “Maybe you should let Declan handle things.”
Sey stared at Walter, a hundred different scenarios playing themselves out in his head, all of them bad, all of them ending with Declan dead or injured. “No,” he whispered, his grip on Sasha tightening until his knuckles were white.
“Someone has to do it, amigo,” Walter said kindly, knowing instinctively that Birkoff would take it as betrayal.
Sey hid his face in Sasha’s hair, willing himself not to break down. He was tired and emotionally wrung-out. None of them were thinking straight. What they all needed was sleep. But every moment they wasted sleeping meant the trail leading to Chris grew that much colder.
“That’s up to Dec,” Sey said when he could trust his voice again. He knew that Declan was going to have to get involved at some point. He wouldn’t stand in his way. But he wasn’t sure he could survive losing him, if it came to that.
Walter lay a hand on Sey’s shoulder and felt the younger man flinch. “How about we all get some sleep and meet back here in the morning?”
Michael shook his head. “We’ve lost too much time already.”
“Dawn then. Okay?”
It was a compromise of sorts. Michael knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but what good would anyone be able to do without some attempt at rest?
“Okay,” Michael agreed reluctantly. “I’ll just stay down here and—“
“Go to bed, Michael,” Walter commanded.
“I won’t sleep—“
“Sugar needs you. Whether you sleep or not.”
“I didn’t forget. I just—“
“You just didn’t want to think about it. I know. Try to get some rest, Michael. Please.”
Michael nodded. With his head so full of bleak and dangerous things, there was little room for hope or prayer. But he clung to the faith that ironically seemed strongest at times of crisis. “God protect you, Chris,” he murmured.
“Amen,” said Walter, grabbing hold of Michael’s hand and squeezing it hard.
“Amen,” Sey whispered, placing his hand on top of Walter’s.
Sasha wove his hand between Walter’s and his father’s. Turning to look directly into his father’s distressed face, Sasha asked earnestly, “Did I help, Daddy?”
Sey tried to smile reassuringly, settling instead for a kiss to Sasha’s forehead. “You did good, kiddo,” he said softly. “You did real good.”
Faith wasn’t in her room. Given the circumstances, Michael’s reaction might have been to panic. But that wasn’t in his nature. Slowly, methodically, he began to search the bedrooms, starting with the likeliest places first.
When he opened Adam’s door, he could see that his son was not asleep. Nor was he alone. “Jazz! What are you doing in he—“
Before he could complete the sentence, however, both teenagers whispered, “Ssh” in unison. Now that Michael looked more closely, he could see why. Faith was curled up between them, asleep. Her head lay on Adam’s shoulder, which probably wasn’t the least bit comfortable, but she didn’t seem to mind. Her fingers were intertwined with his, and it was obvious to Michael that Adam couldn’t possibly get away without her knowing it.
“Has she been here long?” Michael whispered.
“About an hour,” Jazz replied. “She was pretty upset. She said she didn’t want to be by herself.”
“She could have come to m—“
Adam shook his head gently. “Nikita’s snowed. You guys were downstairs plotting strategy. There *was* no one else.”
“My fault. I should have thought—“ Michael’s mood grew bleaker. He didn’t think. He couldn’t. He wasn’t functioning much better than his wife. The only difference was that he was still awake.
“Dad, don’t beat yourself up. None of this is your fault.” Adam gestured cautiously at the sleeping girl in his arms. “*She* doesn’t think so.”
“She doesn’t?”
“No,” Jazz picked up the end of what Adam was saying as though they were his own words. It was remarkable the way they literally seemed to finish each other’s sentences. “She blames herself.”
Michael was taken aback. Nothing could be further from the truth. Faith was a victim, an innocent bystander with all too much to lose.
“She thinks she should have gone to the manager sooner. Maybe he could have caught whoever it was that took Chris.”
“No. Oh, petite.”
Michael knelt down at Adam’s side and regarded his sleeping daughter. As he watched, she stirred restlessly, as if she sensed he was nearby. Half-awake, she rubbed her cheek against Adam’s shoulder, whispering, “You feel like Daddy.”
“I’m here, petite.”
“Daddy!” Faith smiled sleepily. She was so beautiful, his oldest daughter and the child closest to his heart, if he but admitted it.
Michael reached out for her, and she glanced at her half-brother, giving him a look that spoke volumes. It was a look that told him that he wasn’t second-best, standing in for his absent father, but an important person in his own right and someone worth reckoning with. On impulse, Faith pulled Adam’s head down and kissed him on the cheek. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” Adam said, a bit dazed by the degree of Faith’s gratitude.
Michael grasped Faith by the hand, then stared at that hand as if it weren’t quite real. “Faith, we need to talk.”
“I know, Daddy,” she said quietly, a new strength entering her voice.
“Come with me.”
When the two of them reached the door, Faith turned and waved, as if saying good night to Adam and Jazz together was an everyday occurrence. “G’nite, Adam. G’nite, Jazz.”
Faith stepped over the threshold while Michael hesitated. Waiting a moment until Faith was more or less out of earshot, Michael said, “What you two did meant a lot to me, Adam. Thank you.”
Adam allowed himself a brief smile. Faith was hurting. He couldn’t let anyone he knew hurt like that. Not if there was anything he could do to help.
“But Adam?”
“Yes, Dad?”
“This doesn’t mean that Jazz can spend the night in your room.”
Adam chuckled. “Can’t put one over on you, huh, Dad?”
“Five minutes, Adam. Then Jazz goes back to his own room.”
“Okay, Dad,” Adam agreed.
That was too easy. Michael turned back after a step and said, “That reminds me. When Jazz goes back to *his* room, *you* stay here.”
“Dad, I can’t believe you think *I* would take advantage,” Adam said huffily.
Michael smiled faintly. “Adam, I can’t believe *you* thought I would be so out of it, I wouldn’t notice.”
“I think I’m offended.”
“It was a nice try, though.”
Adam smiled. “Then I’ve done my job, Dad.”
“I’d better go.”
Adam caught Jazz by the arm. Jazz stared pointedly at Adam’s hand on his arm. “What?”
“We’ve got five minutes.”
“What can we do in five minutes, Adam?”
“This.” Adam kissed him, and at first, he could feel Jazz almost certainly consciously resisting him. It would have frustrated him if all that was between them was sex. But they had so much more than that.
“Look, I don’t know where this is going, man, and I’m not sure I want to be part of it.”
“Where do you want it to go, Nicky?”
Jazz groaned. “Adam, I can’t do this again. Not now.”
“You’re angry with me.”
Jazz risked looking at his lover. Big mistake. Those big brown eyes, sliding over his body like melting chocolate. “I’m not sure how I feel. But yeah, I think I *am* angry. You want to wait three years till I’m legal, Adam? Then stay the fuck away from me. I’m only human, Goddammit.”
“Jesus, I don’t want to fight with you, Nicky. I want to make love to you.”
“In what’s left of the five minutes? Thanks a lot, Adam.”
“I don’t want to be alone,” Adam whispered. “Stay with me. Please.”
“Suddenly you *want* to defy your father?” Jazz shook his head. “You’re not thinking straight.”
“I’m not thinking at all. Come to bed with me.”
“You’re out of your mind. The last place I want to sleep with you is in *your* bed, Adam, where *your* father can find us. I like all the various pieces and parts of me attached the way they are, thanks. I don’t feel like having them forcibly rearranged for me.”
“Oh, I get it,” Adam said bitterly. “You’re punishing me. It’s my turn to feel like shit.”
“Oh, fuck off, Adam. I’m going to bed.”
He was congratulating himself for making it as far as the door when he heard the sound he dreaded. Adam didn’t seem all that upset earlier. But then again, he was good at repressing things. Not unlike his father.
Jazz closed the door and locked it. It made an irrevocable noise of compliance. The door was now locked. Anything they did behind that door was now deliberate and with malice aforethought.
“I’m not any older than I was five minutes ago, Adam,” Jazz said hoarsely.
“I don’t care. I need you,” Adam whispered, finally beaten into submission by his own personal demons.
“Get in bed,” Jazz commanded almost curtly.
Adam started to pull his T-shirt over his head, but Jazz stopped him. “For God’s sake, don’t take anything off, Adam. What do you think I’m made of? Steel?”
Adam gave him a slightly confused look.
“Now get in bed.”
Rather than argue with his lover, Adam pulled back the comforter on his bed. Instead of getting under the sheets, he lay on top of them, looking to Jazz for direction. If it hadn’t been for the tortured look in Adam’s eyes, Jazz might have enjoyed getting the upper hand with Adam for once.
“I’m really starting to hate this being honorable stuff, y’know.”
Adam lay on his side, watching Jazz pace back to the door. With a sharp flick of his wrist, Jazz unlocked the door again. “If Michael comes back, he won’t see anything more than you and me snoring in each other’s faces. I hope he understands.”
“You don’t have to do this, Nicky.” Adam sniffled. That was the sound that decided Jazz. He couldn’t stand to hear Adam’s heart breaking. Not when he could do so little to make him feel safer.
“Yeah, I do, Adam. I love you.” Jazz lay down on the bed and rolled onto his side, away from Adam. His back was so rigid, he thought he would snap from the tension inside him. But he refused to break under the pressure. He wouldn’t give in. Not now. For one thing, when Adam came back to his senses, he would hate himself, and Jazz, for violating his word to his father.
For another, Jazz sincerely took what Smoke said to heart. He and James had turned his life around. He couldn’t throw that away, no matter how tempting it might be in the short run. Smoke was counting on him to be strong. He couldn’t let him down.
Jazz pulled the comforter over them and turned off the light. A moment later, Adam whispered, “Nicky?”
Jazz bit his lip at the wave of need that surged through his body. “Yeah?”
“Can I hold you?”
“You promise not to touch me anywhere else?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
Adam spooned against Jazz, their bodies fitting together as if they were made for each other. His arm crept across Jazz’ waist and settled well above his belt line. “Nicky?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Damn, he could hear the gratitude in Adam’s voice. God, this was difficult. But it was worth doing right. He had to be there for Adam. Surely Smoke would understand.
Michael stood on the other side of the door and smiled wearily, thinking about how much he’d overheard. It was quite a revelation to find that his son and his lover were capable of that level of maturity. And yet he’d found that the higher he set his expectations, the harder they strived to meet them.
The least he could do now was to trust them.