This story is based on two gay men. You must be above the legal age of 18 (or as stipulated by your country/state) to read this story. If this story is illegal in your area, PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. This story is a work of ficition. Any similarity of the characters to any person is clearly a coincidence. All other usual disclaimers apply.
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The Game
Chapter Eight - Plead for Trust
As soon as the door swung shut Jake leaned against the cool, tiled wall of the kitchen, shaking. It was one thing to suspect McCall knew, even to hear the names, but it was another to see cold hard evidence. McCall knew it all, even things the press had never printed. The only thing he didn't know was which of the de Souza boys he really was.
He had to get out of New Zealand tonight. Taking Danny's security away for now was only less appalling than the thought of the destruction of his gentle, loving trust and timid. Stuttering shyness at Falcone's ruthless hand.
He would find a location in a place he could but safety in extradition laws, and get Danny back into a stable life. He'd dump everything, change their lives completely. He'd heard people could buy fake birth and death certificates through hackers on the Net. Maybe if he bribed someone to create graves, he could kill off both their identities forever, and start over...
"Here." Let me."
Jake gave a stifled cry as hot milk splashed over his wrist; he held back a gasp as McCall took the pan from his hands.
"Don't handle hot liquids while you're working out how to give me the slip." McCall stirred the chocolate into the milk, and shoved a mug toward him. "Drink that. It'll calm your nerves."
'He knew.'
With those simple words McCall had robbed Jake of all breath, all thought. On autopilot Jake did as McCall bade him, but he couldn't taste the rich sweetness on his tongue. He felt hollowed out, empty, brainless, unable to continue his plans for escape.
"Ken and Donna Richards are here. I promised I'd take Danny his drink before he went." McCall poured the milk into Danny's mug with a steady hand. "Come and see Danny off, then we'll talk."
Graceless, nerveless, all Jake could do was put down his mug and follow McCall. How to tell Donna he had to collect Danny again tonight... that Danny couldn't go camping after all...
Jake's heart ached. Poor little Danny - such a simple thing to want, and he had to rob him of the chance. Jake knew Danny might resent him for years for what he had to do, but at least he'd still be alive, with his innocence intact. He could live with Danny's anger at denying him a normal life. He'd find Danny's forgiveness one day for what he had to do to him, hiding in the shadows, watching through locked and bolted windows while others laughed and loved and lived, free of constant, haunting shades of terror.
'A life lived in fear is a life half lived.'
Jake's eyes squeezed shut. 'I'm so sorry, my baby. This is all I have to give you...'
As soon as he entered the living room, Donna's gaze sharpened for a moment; then as if she had seen Jake's inner stress, her face softened into a grin. "Looking forward to your get-out-of-jail-free card, Jake? Three nights alone for the first time in almost seven years..."
Jake forced out a laugh, and ruffled Danny's hair. "It hasn't been a sacrifice."
Danny was bouncing from foot to foot, even as he gave Jake a fierce, if brief, hug. "Can I go now, Daddy?"
He kissed the top of Danny's head. "Go sweetie. Enjoy yourself." Jake smiled, watching as Danny bolted out the door with Ethan and without his bag. With an understanding grin, Ken tossed it over his shoulder.
With sudden inspiration Jake took a step back and made a sign to Donna - thumb to ear, finger to ear. `I'll call you.'
Donna showed no sign of seeing it; Jake knew she had caught his signal when she turned to distract McCall. "It's been nice to meet you, Brendan. See you around - with Jake, maybe? So where you from, Brendan? Are you American or Canadian? You have any family back home?" She fired question after question with a hint of archness in her tone. Playing the nosy girlfriend to perfection. A deflection with the skill of a professional - and McCall kept his face away from Jake as he answered.
Jake dragged in a silent sigh. A moment's relief was all he could ask for right now. The reckoning was in front of his face, and he didn't have a clue how to fight it.
As soon as Jake shut the door behind the Richards family, he turned and walked straight into the kitchen and stood with legs splayed, holding the bench as if it was his last best friend.
McCall came in and stood beside him, refusing to sit at the stool, but towered over him. Watching him. "You need to know what's going on before you make any decisions." McCall's eyes lingered on him, assessing him. "I got word two hours ago. Falcone's on the move. He's left his island. His men have already reached Auckland, and showing your photos - you know the ones I mean - asking if anyone knows you. It's only a matter of hours, maybe a day, before they know where you are."
The quiet words hit him with sledgehammer force. He reeled, holding the bench to stop himself from falling over. "W-who?" He whispered in flickering defiance.
McCall's voice was bleak, his wild, rugged face inscrutable. "I'm risking my career telling you this."
Jake's defenses, and the life of his son, depended on his lie. "Who?" he asked, stronger this time.
McCall's jaw tightened; he loomed over him like an avenging Fury, even as he checked his wrist, saw the red patch. Without a word he grabbed a clean towel and wet it, then wrapped it gently around the burn, soothing it. A small act, but with great effect on him. "Danny's father is on his way to claim his son, and to kill you. Is that easier to cope with?"
Hearing what he already knew but put so bluntly, made his knees give way. "N-no..."
McCall held him up with strong arms, his face stern and darkly beautiful in its concern. "I'm here. I'm here."
"And that's supposed to help?" Jake gripped the bench with fingers gone white from unrelenting pressure.
"I want you to think so. I am here to help." Though McCall's strength could easily double his, his words were gentle, tender as the arms that held him. "It's over Jake." He murmured. "Please trust me. I want to help you."
A dark, gypsy whisper with an insidious sweetness almost compelling Jake to obey. Jake dragged in a harsh breath, releasing it only when he felt his diaphragm protest that it couldn't give any more leeway. 'Danny's life depends on this. You can't trust him because you want to!'
Jake kept his gaze fixed on the volcanic pattern of the bench top, drawing patterns on its surface with an absent finger. "You won't tell me who you represent, or give me proof. Do I hand my life over to you on the basis of a few words?"
After a long moment, McCall nodded. "You're right. But even if I weren't under orders, I've been trained to keep my career close to vest for a long time."
Jake expelled the air, and as he stalked past McCall, the scent of warm, sweet chocolate came to him. Luscious danger... the chained jaguar unable to reach its prey by conventional means, and he held his breath again, sensing that McCall was finally going to share something of himself, and his life.
"My boss ordered me to tell you nothing until I have confirmation of your ID, and evidence we needed to get the government of Minca bel Sol to overwrite their extradition laws and hand Falcone over. But my boss doesn't have a little boy whose life is on the line." He almost threw the words at him, his voice grating and stark. "I think the time for the truth has come - from both of us." McCall tipped his face up and looked in his eyes, his own hiding too many secrets and too much at stake to tell them all. "I'm sure from the way you never contacted me after our last date that your father told you about my dishonorable discharge from the SEALs. He would also have told you why it happened, at least as far as he knew. What he said wasn't the real truth, though we'll never know if he knew that or not." McCall rubbed his jaw as if the late-night shadow on it bothered him. "I don't want to turn you against your father. I wouldn't tell you this if I had another way to convince you. I can't give you the details surrounding the terms of my discharge - it's highly classified - but it was always a fake. It's my cover, an intricate story with full legal back-up to get me into anywhere I need to go for my job."
"And what job is that?" Jake asked, losing the feeling in his hands as he gripped on. Everything hinged on McCall's answer now.
Dragging in another harsh breath, McCall swung around to face him, his eyes the color of a storm-tossed ocean, and burning hot. "I could be court-martialed for what I'm about to tell you. I belong to a top-secret group of mostly ex-military fighter-pilots, a CSAR-combat search-and-rescue-team. Most of us were recruited from the elite squads, the most dangerous - Green Berets, SAS, SEALs, Para Rescue Jumpers, and etcetera. Our job description includes gathering information and rescuing people in places government can't or won't acknowledge they have vested interests in. We infiltrate drug and gun-running rings, fight in unacknowledged war zones, rescue hostages from deadly places - and we find people who don't want to be found." A little, grim smile. "We also find people in deadly danger who refuse to take up help, or even admit they're in peril. People who put their own kids at risk because they're too proud and stubborn - or too - scared - to reach out and trust us."
Jake absorbed the information with a strange sense of calm. Much as part of him didn't want to believe McCall, it all made sense. He'd known all along that McCall was a hero junkie. It made complete sense that he'd be a spy who rescued people.
'If he's telling the truth, why didn't my father know? As an ambassador to the United States, he'd have had clearance to find out.'
The logical conclusion to that question was too painful to explore. So he lifted his chin, choosing defiance. "Would either of us be in peril - would this Falcone person know where we are if you hadn't come?"
Jake felt McCall's shrug, the mental withdrawal, his own trust, and his unspoken hope withering under the quiet question. "We only got your name because Falcone's men were searching in the South Pacific region. Falcone's been searching for you both for a long time. He never believed in your death, or his son's." His gaze sharpened. "You know the deal. We know you're either Jacob or Marcus de Souza. From there you hold the cards. We want the evidence to send Falcone to the electric chair. He'd be indicted in Texas. For that evidence, we guarantee your safety."
"I don't have any evidence. My name is Jacob Silver." Jake kept his gaze on McCall's face - no hardship, since looking at him was an addiction, as all-consuming as Ecstasy - as he had to deflect him. "You're not the first person who's confused me with Jake or Marcus de Souza."He sighed. "Obviously this Falcone man has. Danny's real father did, too. He fooled me into believing he loved me," 'Forgive me, Marcus, for borrowing your story. Until he confirms who he is with reasonable proof, I must make McCall believe that Danny's father isn't Falcone.' "It wasn't until Danny was on the way that I saw his obsession with him had transferred to me. The violence and anger that I wasn't the man he really wanted left me with no choice but to take Danny and run. I've been running for years." Jake finally released his fingers from the bench, and the ache came, rapier-sharp, through his hands, but he welcomed it right now. Physical pain he could handle. "If this Falcone person takes us, believing us to be his ex and son, so help me, Brendan McCall, I will kill you."
McCall's eyes bored holes into his soul, but not his story. "Are you telling me you're not Robert Falcone's partner?"
Dear God, Falcone's partner. He wanted to throw up. "I'm nobody's partner" Jake answered with a queer sense of gladness that he could be honest about this, at least. "I never have been."
McCall frowned. His hunter's instinct had obviously heard the truth in his words. "You didn't marry Danny's father?"
He shook his head. "No, but it won't stop him from trying to kill me if he finds me - and it won't stop Falcone from taking my son, if he believes Danny is his son." Again, Jake's gaze locked on McCall's. Moving closer to him, body against will. "You say your group is above the government, in league with the CIA and MI6?"
He nodded his face wary.
"So you are responsible to them, or free agents? You promise protection, I exchange for evidence, but do we have an expiration date? Do I get effective protection, or a so-called safe house that he could infiltrate in hours? Would your group betray my trust and my son's safety to achieve your higher purpose? Are our lives an acceptable risk to your boss? Would my son and I become collateral damage to him in a greater war?" Jake demanded fiercely, in total contrast to his tremor-shaken body.
The finger still touching the soft skin below Jake's chin fell. McCall's knees shook; illogically, he felt as if his last support had vanished beneath his feet. "Damn it, man, you know where to hit, don't you?" McCall wheeled away, dashing a thick lock of hair from his face with careless grace. "I won't lie to you. I can't guarantee he won't, Jake. I know my boss. He'd blow the world apart to save one of his objectives, to stop a war or bring down a scum like Falcone, but though he'd expect me to give my life to save you and Danny during the mission, individuals like you and Danny are like blips on the screen in the longer-term picture. He'd arrange for your safety, sure, but unless he had reason to believe you were in danger again, he'd forget about you when the next disaster came along."
A fire-streak of agony flashed through his brain, leaving him weak. "So why should I confirm or deny anything? Why should I try to bargain with you?"
McCall threw him an intense look over his shoulder. "Because I'm not my boss. I give you my word, Jake, here and now... if you trust me with your lives, I'd lay down my life before I'd let anyone touch you or Danny. I'd refuse direct orders, turn my back on my career, take another treason charge, stand in silence through a court-martial, and even commit murder to keep you safe. I'd walk through burning hell to save you."
The power of those raw words sent tremors through Jake's entire body; but a flicker of doubt. Of fear, made him ask, "If I'm Jacob de Souza, you mean? What if I'm not him?"
McCall's gaze narrowed for a moment; then came back to him, putting his hand under his face again, caressing gently. Giving to him because he wanted to not because he was trying to force his secrets from him. "I just gave my word to Jake Silver" he growled, his dark, stormy face beautiful in its masculine intensity. "Don't you get it? It might be my job, and the right thing to find out if you could rid the world of that filthy bastard Falcone with that tape, but I don't give a damn who you're. It's you... 'you' and Danny I'd lay down my life for, whether you're Jake and Danny Silver or Jacob and Robbie Falcone."
Aching, Jake whispered. "Prove it."
"There's only one way to prove it - and that's with my life." McCall released his chin and paced the room, seeming to take the night with him; then he stalked over to Jake and took his cheek in his hand, caressing him with tender reassurance. Close, too close. Never close enough. "I told you I'd walk through hell burning for you, and I would." McCall growled against his mouth, his breath mingling with his. "Come with me, Jake, and I'll prove it any way I have to. If it comes to that, I swear to God that I would die to save you and Danny."