Page 43 of Need to Know

Jack looked up, glaring at his captor. “You’re not very good at this intimidation thingy, are you?” he said unfazed. I wasn’t sure if he was being brave or stupid. “Look, we’re not psychic, tell us who you’re looking for and if we can help, we’ll tell you where to find them. It’s quite simple,” he suggested matter-of-factly.

“He goes by many names. John Drake, Christopher Hurst, Matthew Prince, Curtis Hale,” the brute barked.

“Nope! Sorry, not a clue, never heard any of those names before. You can let us go now,” Jack deadpanned. I met Jack’s dark eyes, sending him an urgent glare. I noticed that his smart mouth had gotten him smacked around worse than me and seeing the welt on his cheek, below his eye lit a fire inside me. How dare they touch him, how fucking dare they harm a hair on his head. I hoped to communicate with my eyes that he needed to shut the fuck up. If these men were really looking for my dad, they were twelve years too late. I’d tell them exactly where they could find him.

“If I tell you, you’ll let us go?” I bargained.

“Sure, sure,” Jun Hie said. “Where is sneaky-thief papa hiding?”

“Papa?” Jack said in confusion but I ignored him. I’d explain later.

“You’ll need a pen and paper.”

“I use phone notes,” Jun Hie said, drawing a device from his back pocket. “Go”

I took a long, dramatic pause before saying, “You’ll find a grave marker at…River View cemetery, Portland, Oregon, in the USA. Now, you can let us go?”

The two goons looked at one another and there was a beat of tense silence, creaking of timbers in an old house, and wind lashing against windows. Then all four men burst out into peals of laughter, laughing so hard that the American doubled up.

“What the fuck?” Jack looked horrified. “I thought your dad was dead?”

“He is,” I ground out as I struggled in my restraints.

The Asian man staggered to a chair to sit down. I was appalled and confused by the callous reaction. Losing my dad destroyed me. It left a hole in my entire family. Clearly, someone had stolen my late-father’s identity to use for something criminal, and these…these ghouls were mocking our family’s pain. I was outraged.

“You believed all that shit the US government told you?” the American snickered.

“What are you talking about?”

“The CIA spins a great yarn when it suits them,” he said. “What was it, an accident?” he said mockingly. “No remains left to identify, but here’s a tin of ashes,” he grinned. “Please accept our thoughts and prayers, oh, here, this suitcase of cash is a gift from the government. Wha, wha, wha!” he said in a derisive tone while miming rubbing tears from his eyes.

A shiver ran through me. That was exactly what we’d been told. There’d been an accident at a petroleum refinery in Saudi Arabia, no remains left to identify.

“Last time I see your old man was three weeks ago at Shanghai Pudong airport,” Jun Hie stated. “He very alive. He stole something that belong to my government. Where is Curtis Hale?”

****

I woke, my panicky breaths coming fast and deep, as if I’d been running. Sweat prickled my skin and I’d kicked the covers off me. Holy shit! Was that a dream or a memory? I was in a huge soft bed. I reached out to caress silken, warm skin. “Jack,” I sighed. Jack was here, sleeping beside me, unharmed. The relief was palpable. In the nightmare I was restrained, and questioned. I was told in a mocking sneer that my father was alive and was involved in something…criminal. There must be some kind of mistake, my father wasn’t alive…if he was that would mean he’d abandoned us and stayed away for twelve years. He’d lived for our family, and when I was growing up, he worked hard to provide a good life for us. He wouldn’t abandon us like that! Someone had stolen his identity, they must have! I recalled a storyline on Cracksman where my character searched public records to get the names of dead people to use for his new identities. That must be it…someone stole my dad’s identity. Maybe they’d stolen our boat too?

I sat up, grabbed for a bottle of water on the nightstand, and rested my head back against the padded headboard. As I glugged the whole bottle of water I listened to Jack’s gentle snores. Within a few minutes the anxiety of the dream subsided but I still felt off balance.

Sprawled on his belly, Jack slept in a starfish position. I lifted the crisp white sheet that covered his lower half to see, yep, from his head to the tips of his toes, he was a dripping dream. I wanted to wake him, to kiss down his spine, and then slowly finger and eat out his ass. Then I’d replace my fingers with my rigid dick. Hmm, that was a lovely though, but I didn’t act on it. As long as we had the stolen chips in our possession we were in danger. It was then that I made a decision. I couldn’t stay here and wonder if my memories were a dream or reality. I needed to know for sure if my dad’s identity was stolen by criminals, or if he was miraculously alive, and he put me, and my lover in danger.

****

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Jack

I reached out but Nate wasn’t there and the sheets were cool. I eased out of bed and stood shakily. My limbs were heavy and everything ached, like I was ninety-two, not thirty-two. My mouth was arid; like I’d been licking sandpaper and so I reached for the bottle of sparkling water on my nightstand and downed it. These were the after effects of Rohypnol I was familiar with and I knew they would pass. I hobbled unsteadily into the bathroom, took a leak, and then stepped up to the sink. I was met by my grim reflection. Short russet stubble had grown in; and my hair was sticking up. It looked like I’d been electrocuted. I washed my hands and then splashed water over my face. I brushed my teeth with the new toothbrush the hotel provided and then finger combed my hair…I’d shave later.

Walking naked through the suite I found that the laundry was returned and now I had clean, pressed clothes. There was also a garment rack, probably delivered by the hotel concierge. Nate must have taken the garment rack in before he’d gone to the hotel gym, or something! It held a selection of shirts and jeans, shorts and a couple of pairs of black slacks in mine and Nate’s sizes. I hoped Nate would come back with a treat because I was starving again.

I dressed in shorts and a tee, before stepping through the French doors and onto the secluded balcony. The view was fantastic and I inhaled a lungful of the cool breeze. The view of the winged charioteer at the top of the Brandenburg gate depicted Victoria, the Roman Goddess of Victory. I stood dazedly for a few minutes and watched the ant-like tourists in the square below, desperate to get their Instagramable shot in front of the neoclassical arch. My belly growled in complaint. There really was no end to my appetite! I needed coffee and a snack. I returned to the bedroom to grab my phone. We had a fully stocked kitchenette, so I used a coffee pod machine. I took my latté to the balcony and swiped another Danish pastry from our breakfast trolley on the way past. I’d relax and browse, maybe I’d listen to an audiobook while waiting for Nate to come back. Then together we’d decide how we were going to spend the afternoon. I hoped we’d hide away from the world, go back to bed, and make good on our shared promise to fuck one another’s brains out.

I sat back on a lounger chair, as I sipped the latté. I pressed my thumb on the biometric reader to open my phone. I’d only slept for an hour and a half, but it was enough to refresh me. Now it was just after midday. Immediately, I found a bunch of messages from Lucy. I’d told her the bare minimum of last night’s events and she said she would discuss things with Roz and the studio to get a security plan together. After the Paris debacle, security for this junket would be increased–but only when the entourage from Maritime and our personal teams arrived on Thursday. I scrolled through my notifications and saw two emails from the studio, and then a text message from Nate. I read Nate’s message and spluttered, swiftly placing the coffee on a table before I spilled it. I couldn’t believe what I’d read.

Jack,