Kickass Anthology by Keira Andrews, Jackie Keswick, Jade Crystal, Nancy Hartmann, Tali Spencer, JP Kenwood, A.L. Boyd, Mia Kerick, Brandon Witt, Sophie Bonaste Page A
Authors: Keira Andrews, Jackie Keswick, Jade Crystal, Nancy Hartmann, Tali Spencer, JP Kenwood, A.L. Boyd, Mia Kerick, Brandon Witt, Sophie Bonaste
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himself that he would cut all ties and not keep tabs on anyone here. Ever.
And he needed the reminders.
Standing in the morning sun, Gareth Flynn looked as impressive as he had the first time Jack had seen him. The uniform sat easily on his taut frame. He had the sleeves rolled up and tabbed despite the chilly air, muscled forearms and the strong hands that could take a grown man down in a single swipe on display. Captain Gareth Flynn looked like a tree, rooted deep, solid and dependable. And Jack had to swallow past the lump in his throat, had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other and move towards the gate.
It would be so easy to recant his decision. So easy to stay and continue to serve alongside men he trusted. So easy... and he just couldn't.
Gareth turned his head as Jack approached and the liquid gold gaze swept over Jack for the last time. For once, Jack didn't care if he was presentable, if he passed inspection. He stared shamelessly… one last time.
"Remember what we've taught you," Gareth rasped when he saw that Jack hadn't changed his mind. "And whatever you do, don't do anything stupid, brat."
"No, sir," Jack mumbled. His voice failed him for anything more, and then Gareth's arms were around him in a tight hug. Jack wished that this wasn't a simple hug goodbye. For one long heartbeat, he let himself go, leaned in and pretended that he hung in a lover's embrace. Then he drew back and squared his shoulders.
"Thank you, sir. For everything."
Jack was so spun into his memories that he didn't see Tom move from the sofa to kneel beside Jack's armchair, and his friend's sudden whisper startled him.
"You're... in love with him?"
"No." Jack's denial came swiftly, automatically, and Tom promptly shut his mouth. He got another beer from the fridge and held it out in silent apology. Jack took it with a nod, popped the top and downed half the contents in one long swallow. He had no idea why he kept denying something he'd known for years, especially now that he no longer served and whatever he said wouldn't hurt Gareth Flynn. It was one of those things he simply didn't think about.
"So that's why Pam didn't even get a look in, eh?" Tom tried to lighten the mood.
"Pam didn't get a look in because she's a narrow-minded, bigoted piece of... never mind," Jack's tone settled as quickly as it had risen. The woman really wasn't worth the energy it took for him to get properly riled. "I wouldn't give her the time of day if she was the only pair of tits left in London."
"So you noticed that?"
"Which? The tits or the bigotry?"
"Hey, you can't miss the tits."
"Don't I know it. Had the damn things shoved in my face enough times."
"So you're what... bi? Wouldn't have guessed that."
Jack made a face. "I hate labels. Save 'em for your stupid rock samples."
"I hear you, but still..."
"You're as hot for gossip as a squeeing fan girl." Jack ignored Tom's protest, finished the beer and got up to grab the bottle of Islay malt from his bedroom. Memories of Gareth deserved the company of a fine spirit. And it would help him keep his cool when Tom got to digging around in his soul. "Before it kills you, I am more attracted by what someone has to say for themselves than the plumbing they're born with. If that makes me bi, then go ahead, slap on the label."
"WE'RE on," Paul Grabin said as he pushed the door open and stepped into the room. "He's got a date for tonight."
Jack turned his head and slitted his eyes, trying to see their visitor without the sun frying his eyeballs or starting a snowstorm of pain in his head. Truth be told, he couldn't tell if he was actually awake or trapped in a whisky-fuelled revenge fantasy. They'd finished the Islay along with the beers the previous night, talking about things that hurt and stuff Jack couldn't even remember in the bright light of day. He just knew that they'd talked until his throat was raw and his voice a husky rasp. Or maybe the malt was to blame for that.
It
And he needed the reminders.
Standing in the morning sun, Gareth Flynn looked as impressive as he had the first time Jack had seen him. The uniform sat easily on his taut frame. He had the sleeves rolled up and tabbed despite the chilly air, muscled forearms and the strong hands that could take a grown man down in a single swipe on display. Captain Gareth Flynn looked like a tree, rooted deep, solid and dependable. And Jack had to swallow past the lump in his throat, had to force himself to put one foot in front of the other and move towards the gate.
It would be so easy to recant his decision. So easy to stay and continue to serve alongside men he trusted. So easy... and he just couldn't.
Gareth turned his head as Jack approached and the liquid gold gaze swept over Jack for the last time. For once, Jack didn't care if he was presentable, if he passed inspection. He stared shamelessly… one last time.
"Remember what we've taught you," Gareth rasped when he saw that Jack hadn't changed his mind. "And whatever you do, don't do anything stupid, brat."
"No, sir," Jack mumbled. His voice failed him for anything more, and then Gareth's arms were around him in a tight hug. Jack wished that this wasn't a simple hug goodbye. For one long heartbeat, he let himself go, leaned in and pretended that he hung in a lover's embrace. Then he drew back and squared his shoulders.
"Thank you, sir. For everything."
Jack was so spun into his memories that he didn't see Tom move from the sofa to kneel beside Jack's armchair, and his friend's sudden whisper startled him.
"You're... in love with him?"
"No." Jack's denial came swiftly, automatically, and Tom promptly shut his mouth. He got another beer from the fridge and held it out in silent apology. Jack took it with a nod, popped the top and downed half the contents in one long swallow. He had no idea why he kept denying something he'd known for years, especially now that he no longer served and whatever he said wouldn't hurt Gareth Flynn. It was one of those things he simply didn't think about.
"So that's why Pam didn't even get a look in, eh?" Tom tried to lighten the mood.
"Pam didn't get a look in because she's a narrow-minded, bigoted piece of... never mind," Jack's tone settled as quickly as it had risen. The woman really wasn't worth the energy it took for him to get properly riled. "I wouldn't give her the time of day if she was the only pair of tits left in London."
"So you noticed that?"
"Which? The tits or the bigotry?"
"Hey, you can't miss the tits."
"Don't I know it. Had the damn things shoved in my face enough times."
"So you're what... bi? Wouldn't have guessed that."
Jack made a face. "I hate labels. Save 'em for your stupid rock samples."
"I hear you, but still..."
"You're as hot for gossip as a squeeing fan girl." Jack ignored Tom's protest, finished the beer and got up to grab the bottle of Islay malt from his bedroom. Memories of Gareth deserved the company of a fine spirit. And it would help him keep his cool when Tom got to digging around in his soul. "Before it kills you, I am more attracted by what someone has to say for themselves than the plumbing they're born with. If that makes me bi, then go ahead, slap on the label."
"WE'RE on," Paul Grabin said as he pushed the door open and stepped into the room. "He's got a date for tonight."
Jack turned his head and slitted his eyes, trying to see their visitor without the sun frying his eyeballs or starting a snowstorm of pain in his head. Truth be told, he couldn't tell if he was actually awake or trapped in a whisky-fuelled revenge fantasy. They'd finished the Islay along with the beers the previous night, talking about things that hurt and stuff Jack couldn't even remember in the bright light of day. He just knew that they'd talked until his throat was raw and his voice a husky rasp. Or maybe the malt was to blame for that.
It
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