Page 98 of Drift

THE THREAT

“Oh I see how this goes now,” called George from back down by the main gates, causing a frown off Ray for the intrusion.

He glanced over, and the security lamp by the security booth showed George making changeover checks now he just came on duty. Steve wouldn’t be far behind with the start of the night shift. But as for Ray, he was just clocking off. “How what goes?” he said.

“Big boss is away this evening in Nottingham, so you’re off for a skive all of your own.” George even threw in a wink.

“Hey, less of the lip.” Ray carried on up the pathway to his gatehouse. “But stay around another five years or so, I’ll let you in on the little hidey-holes I use to skive from Gray too.”

“Oh, God. You have some?” George laughed uneasily. “Please don’t make me wait five years.”

Ray chuckled, and George saluted before carrying on his checks with the automatic gates. Simon would usually have his fingers in the main security checks this time as well, trying his cat-and-mouse game on with Ray over trying to find flaws—a little spy v spy fun to begin with, but damn annoying as Simon’s boredom spiked and he’d gotten meaner. Light’s mood played rugby with Simon’s, but where Light had been given anoutlet, Simon’s had been restricted, and one thing Ray hated was wasted intelligence. It only ever turned in on itself.

Ray had sent up a silent prayer to whichever Norse god had shown mercy his way when Simon worked MI6 business away with Light, but he hadn’t started to really relax until Simon started back working under Gray a few days ago. In the Oval with Raif now, Simon kept to working surveillance on Jude. With Raif’s knowledge of the streets and crews, Simon worked both via drone at roof level. The past few days had been focused on seeing who came and went to the house, and just who they could match ID up to. Not going down well with Gray, he’d been called away on an emergency call, and the four rings he’d received called something serious had gone down with the Night-walkers.

Ray would get the brief later. He’d learned early on to read the signs around Gray without asking too many questions, but then they were both born-and-bred military intelligence, with Gray having come up out of nowhere through the ranks, then bypassing Ray and leaving him in the dust as watcher. Unlike most who moved up the chain of command, Gray’s ability to drop all tolerance for rank and go for the throat kept good men at his side, even if his look called he wasn’t one to walk with the good for too long. Ray had made sure he had the men and equipment at his side, at first with Gray unaware he was on the end of the call, then later with Gray having head-hunted him after he did find out. They worked so well together because they’d had over twenty-five years working around each other. To him, and he knew this was hard, Jan had no place with Gray, not in theory anyway. Jan was far too… civvie. Martin… yeah, he belonged in a cage in one of Gray’s not-safe-for-MI5-work playrooms, but Jack…?

Ray gave a long, hard sigh, then made damn sure to keep to his own rule of leaving work and… Jack at the front door right along with his suit jacket.

“Hey, you’re late.” A kiss came at his cheek, and a hand rested against his abs. Ray bit back a wince as he gave a sigh and leaned in to return Shelley’s kiss. Flour dusted a strand of her hair, and he smiled and ran a touch along it to clear it off. She could best Jack in the kitchen, with her steak and kidney pie already drifting through to the hall and callingget in here. Although with all the Christmas decorations they’d setup with it just being over a week away, he knew she’d be throwing some mince pies in the oven too.

“Go on, go get washed up.” Shelley wiped her hands on her apron, looking every way the cook but for the trouser suit she wore. She hadn’t gotten back long from the salon she owned, but she had a habit of walking in here and warming the place up with no need of any central heating to fight away the chill, especially with the smile she lowered his way. “Although I’ve just unwrapped some candid fruit that might need some… surveillance work.” She knew he was Gray’s head of security, that he’d served in MI5, but he wanted to keep that warmth in her smile utterly separate from what else he’d done over the years.

But candid fruit? Christ, she knew his weakness, and Ray’s stomach growled. He was already easing past her and heading for the kitchen. “You were late too,” he called over his shoulder as she followed him in. “And in my defence, you only have to walk out the door and call my name around here to find out where I am.”

Shelley laughed. “Not quite true, there, sweetheart. I still get lost around here. And as you hate even ordering in, I had to godo the boring stuff, like shopping and pop in to see my mum. We were running low on the essentials.” She nodded off to the right.

Some wine bottles stood in a box, and he took the hint and went over and added them to the rack before making a beeline for the goods on the table. He ignored the bags of fruit: apples, four varieties of, oranges, pears… yeah… no. He was already sick of the diet Shelley had put him on. He kept in shape. He had to around here, but the candid fruit, with a sweet glaze on it that crunch beautifully in the mouth like fine glass… they were all his.

Jack had made them a few times, but Ray swore he screwed them up deliberately, never giving the glaze enough time in the heat, making the coating of the fruit more like chewing gum. Yeah, Jack was too much of a good cook to screw up so… innocently.

And that’s where him and Jack, they had a serious problem. Jack had that beautiful lost-look to his cheek, but at times, damn vicious times, all innocence was dropped from his look that had nothing to do with Martin.

Ray shook work off, harder this time, and closed his eyes and took a bite of the candid fruit. “Hhm.” The crunch was… heaven.

“One, no more.” Shelley threw him a look as she made it over to the cooker to switch the spuds on. “I’m watching you.”

Ray laughed and made a point of tossing the last half of the candid fruit in his mouth, then he pinched a second from the tray. “One for now, and one for— oh,fuck.” Ray winced and tongued at the inside of his cheek.

“You okay?” Shelley frowned back at him.

Ray thumbed at his tongue. A touch of blood lined the pad. “The force be too strong with that last bite,” he mumbled. Thecrack of hard glaze had caught the inside of his mouth, and he sighed, taking the warning and slipping the other one back in the bowl. “Shower it is.”

Shelley’s chuckle followed him out of the kitchen, and Ray started to undo his tie before heading up to the en suite.

“Half an hour,” called Shelley. “Don’t make me come looking for you.”

Easing into a smile, Ray felt a damn sight better stepping out of the shower compared to when he’d first climbed in. His line of work coated the skin with a layer of dirt that only thickened over the years, but the only time it had ever bothered him was when he’d agreed to work with Gray, behind private doors. Ray wouldn’t have it any different, but it came with a pretty array of colours to his skin and crack of bones sometimes that he’d never get used to.

Stood in front of the mirror overlooking the sink, Ray prodded at his ribs, left side. The latest bruising from Jack’s kicking had faded a few weeks ago. He’d been lucky to walk away without any cracked ribs this time, and Shelley, bless her soul, she’d said nothing, although the tiredness in her eyes over the same old, same old had lasted well after the bruises had faded. Ray had known what he’d signed up to with Gray, had negotiated a damn good payment plan to make sure Shelley would be taken care of in the event of him not walking away from the debrisfield, but keeping it professional when Jack came on the scene had pushed him to breaking many a time.

He liked having Jack around, had gotten used to the chaos, Ray just didn’t trust him as far as he could willingly throw his dead body at times for all the blind aggression he threw behind closed doors. Gray could control his. Martin was all about control. But Jack… he came with mindless brutality and no safety reset button beyond a sedative and four-point restraints. And Ray didn’t always carry them on him.

Giving himself a quick dry down, Ray gave a sniff, for a moment catching something run under his nose that made him frown. Whatever it was drifted away on the deodorant he put on, and the aftertaste of the spray forced a rub at his head as a dull thud set in. He shrugged it off eventually and grabbed his boxers.

Then it came again.

A slight scent of… what?

---