Page 3 of Natural-Born Cullers

Something else came Jack’s way, but it wasn’t pretty, and Jack managed a soft smile as life kicked into full gear upstairs. At times the manor still fell a little too quiet, especially with a glance back to the more family-friendly home gallery at the bottom of the staircase. Echoes of family pictures lined the walls in there, most good, but some haunted the manor as much as Jack did at times.

Food helped fill the empty space, so, scratching at his head, he made a much-needed beeline for the kitchen.

Chapter 2

Jack, Don’t Meet Martin

Jack made it to the open-plan kitchen minutes later and distractedly ran his hands under the anti-bacterial soap dispenser before entering. Then from the fridge, he pulled out some food his old man had brought over last night, just the usual fry-up things. He added oil to a pan, turned the gas on the hob, then got the sausage and bacon going as someone padded in from behind.

“Morning, Harrison. Sausage sarny for me, hold the bacon. Tea, two sugars, as well.”

Jack glanced over his shoulder. Over by the door, Ray checked something on his phone. “So little trust nowadays from the hired help…” mumbled Jack. “I’m telling Gray you don’t believe hisScout’s honour:nothing’s going on hereall clear.”

He got a look up, a wink. “It’s the fire alarm closest to Martin’s old cell. It gets triple-checked, no matter who the all-clear comes from.”

“Ah.” Jack blushed, then gave him a salute, spatula in hand. “It’s safe this morning, I swear. Martin’s… occupied,” he said, trying not to wince, but Ray’s look rested on the breakfast that sizzled away. “But for the trouble?” added Jack, ignoring the narrow of eye. “Tea and grub in ten, it is.”

“Hmm.” Ray turned away, focused back on his phone. “Then try and stay away, all accidental-like, from the alarms in future, okay? Especially on a Saturday… at—” He looked at something on his phone. “—half five in the bloody morning.”

Jack chuckled and ran his hands under the water before reaching for the bread.

The photo off to his left stole his attention. Sat out of sync to the countertop, Gray was caught getting out of his Mercedes-Benz, all black suit, black leather gloves, sunglasses, multiple stones at his feet.

Jack ran a touch over it, a smile playing his lips.

“Gonna have to get one of you and Gray together…” Jack mumbled to Jan as they’d stood in the bathroom. “Well, if I could fucking tie his ass down long enough to keep him from dodging camera shots.” Bloody MI5 ops.

Only now, where Gray had fought life alone over the years in the photo, Jan stood leaning against the bonnet, arms folded, smirking over to the path that led towards the maze. Or more the route Jack had legged it down a few moments later with the look Gray had rested on him as he’d stolen the snapshot of them both.

“Finally caught you out in the end there, eh, mukka?” Jack lightly tapped the photo but didn’t disturb it as he turned away and grabbed the bread, the scent of sausage and bacon seasoning the kitchen with more and more signs of life. Like mechanics, cooking all came down to parts, logistics, and timing, for which he’d had damn good tutors over the years to perfect both.

Talk came from back down the corridor: Jan and Ray, and Jack shifted over to the coffee. He slipped a pod in the Dolce coffee machine for Jan, then sorted out where Gray kept his Black Ivory Coffee in a specialised sealed container.

A moment later, a kiss brushed the back of his neck, more licked… nipped, and Jack jolted, nearly spilling Gray’s coffee beans. “Fuck, that better not be you, Ray.”

“Hey….”

Jack laughed, glancing over his shoulder at Jan. “You trying to get me stripped and whipped? You know how much this coffee costs per cup and the price for spilling it?”

“Can’t punish the kinkster with what turns him on. I thought you knew that.” Jan leaned over, looking at the coffee beans. Yeah, the shine to that grin knew exactly how expensive Gray’s taste was when it came to coffee. “Shouldn’t have woken me up, Jack.”

Jack elbowed him lightly in the ribs to leave Jan rubbing the fake damage as he finished getting the coffee ready.

“How long this time?” Jan rested his chin on Jack’s shoulder as a look went over to the unit. “Three weeks now?”

Jack flicked a look at the photo. “Go the personal best, there, eh?”

Jan kissed at his own fingertips, then reached over, and Jack’s heart pounded a little as he lightly touched, but didn’t disturb, the photo. “Here’s to three and a half,” murmured Jan.

“More than, soft lad…” mumbled Jack.

Keeping the photo away from the bedroom was his idea: farther to walk in the bloody cold, less feeding the rush to move it and straighten problems out in life. The longer he left it out of alignment, the longer he was happy to live with the chaos. Or that was the plan. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t, but that was okay. OCD was about as predictable and controllable as life: you could work some magic in some areas, control the fall, but others you learned to coexist with or fall headlong into. Accepting all that had been one long, hard lesson, so Jack let old routines play as naturally to the surface as possible, only straightening the photo when life needed controlling around him, but still managing to get back into old habits and straighten the photo nowadays. He’d missed doing it, so damn much.

Jan shifted slightly and brushed a kiss at his jaw, then—

All sneaky-like, polished shoe on cool tile forced Jack to glance back. “Hey, hold it there, you.”

Fastening his watch, Gray sighed and paused as he reached the back door. “Now what?”

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