Drowning Sorrows by Lianne Burwell Book One ac Ramsey sat watching the man at the bar drink. Victor Mansfield was well on his way to being completely sloshed, and Mac had a feeling that he knew why. For the last couple of days Mac and Li Ann, two thirds of their team, had been living together as man and wife, pretending to be a rather offensive married couple, Herbie and Peaches (god help us all), who were also terrorists. "Find out why they're here" the Director had told them. Instead they had spent most of their time getting on each other's nerves. Maybe it was just as well they had never gotten married for real—they would have killed each other inside of a week. But when Li Ann had arrived at the bar, looking serious, and had asked to talk to Victor alone... Mac had had a sinking feeling. The look on Victor's face, as Li Ann had left, had confirmed it. She had decided to break off their engagement. Well... he had been surprised that it had lasted this long. He had warned the older man that she was never going to marry him. Mac knew that Li Ann was just not the type to commit. But Victor had ignored him, assuming that it was just jealousy talking. Mac finished his drink and thought about leaving. Unfortunately, if Victor did anything stupid, the Director would probably blame him. He wasn't sure that there was anything worse than being forced to deal with Dobrinsky's septic tank, but he didn't want to take the chance. He really didn't want to deal with Mr. Do-It-Yourself Son-Of-A-Bitch Dobrinsky again anytime soon. He sighed, and got up to go join Victor. It was going to be a long evening. "I can't believe sea... she dumped me. Jus' like that. Said she wasn't sure marriage was for her. Said it wasn't pretending to be married to you. Hah! S'all yer fault. You didn't like her with me. Thought I wasn't good enough, right? Show.. so you deshided to make sure we broke up..." Victor knocked back his latest drink. Mac didn't think he'd ever seen the straight-laced ex-cop drunk before. He decided it wasn't really a pretty sight. He sighed, and finished off his own drink, then signaled the bartender to bring him another. "Wasn't me. Tried to warn you, y'know. Said she wasn't gonna marry you." He waved his fresh drink towards Victor. "Heck, warned ya again when this case started. She won't set a date? Isn't that warnin' enough for ya?" Victor frowned. "'s different. We were still engaged. Now she wants to go think about it. Wants to postpone the engagement. How the heck do you postpone an engagement?!" He waved to the bartender to come refill his glass. The guy behind the bar frowned at him. "Pal, I think you two have had enough. How 'bout I call a cab for you?" Mac and Victor both scowled at the man. He saw these two in here a lot, along with the girl who left earlier, and was tempted to cut them some slack. After all, the one guy had just lost his girl, and, from past conversations, it sounded like they were in a pretty tense occupation, anyway What harm could it do to let them have a couple more drinks? Then he remembered the older woman who came in sometimes, the redhead. She scared him. Somehow he figured that if he let these two get arrested as either drunk-and-disorderly, or for driving under the influence, she might come after him. He shuddered, then turned to the phone to call a cab. They had paid off the cabbie and were half-way up in the elevator before they realized they were both heading for Victor's apartment. Mac just shrugged. He was pretty wasted, and Victor was even further along. Better not to leave him alone. Not to mention that the other man might not even make it down the hall under his own power. It took Victor three tries to get his key into the lock and turned, then they stumbled into the apartment's living room. "Nice view," Mac said, not really looking. "Whatever." Actually, it was a nice place. Bright, cheery. Yellow paint on the walls. Then Mac got a good look at the stereo system. My God, the man had an eight track! He really needed to join the nineties. Victor fumbled around in the kitchen for a few minutes, then came out juggling an unopened bottle of whiskey and two glasses with ice. "You wan' some more?" "Sure, why not?" They sat on the couch for a while, not actually saying anything, just sipping their whiskeys. Mac finally broke the silence. "You know, it's not like she's the only girl out there..." "Suuuure. That's why you're shtill mooning after her." "I am not mooning after her. It's jus'... we're from the same place. We understand each other. We grew up together. You don't really understand her." "And you do? Hah!" Mac topped up his glass again. "Anyway, you'll find someone else. You're cute. The girls go for your type." "Oh great! Just what I wanted to hear. I'm cute! You get to be good- looking, handsome, exotic, and I get to be cute!!" Victor practically spat out the word, then downed the rest of his drink. "Huh? Exotic? What do you mean 'exotic'?" Mac blinked at him, confused at the words and tone. "C'mon, you always get noticed by the women. Even the Director chases you around." Mac shuddered at the thought. "Heck, even the men watch ya. You've got tha' gorgeous voice, an' tha' mouth..." Victor was finally reduced to just waving his glass around, incoherently. He picked up the bottle and refilled. "Sho.... D'you think I'm cute?" "Huh?" Mac looked at him in surprise, having trouble keeping track of the conversation by that point. "You shed... said I wouldn't have trouble findin' someone else 'cause I'm cute. Doesh tha' mean you think I'm cute?" Victor was staring at him with a strange expression on his face. For a second it almost looked like a... leer? Mac looked at him for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts. Answering was probably not a good idea, but the words just popped out... "Sure I think you're cute. Why wouldn't I?" "How m'I cute?" "Huh?" "How m'I cute? Detailsh... I gave you detailsh, so it's your turn." "Err..." Mac was starting to get really weirded out by the whole conversation. "Well, you've got that that square chin, an' those big 'trust me' eyes, and tha' cute grin." Victor suddenly flashed that grin at him, and Mac couldn't help but to grin back. "Sho... you do think I'm cute!" Mac eyed Victor dubiously. The other man was still grinning—not to mention getting closer. In fact, he almost looked... predatory. "Ummm... what are you... Maybe I should call a cab... Head home..." "Shaddup, Ramsey." With that, Victor pounced. Mac blinked, and suddenly found himself flat on his back on the floor next to the couch, with the older man seated firmly on his chest.. "Wait a mi... umph.." He hazily realized that he had stopped talking because there was a tongue trying to migrate down his throat. He tried using his own tongue to push out the invader, but it was very determined. Besides, he was quickly loosing interest in fighting. Damn, the man could kiss. Man... oh, man, this was weird. Mac spent the next few moments trying to figure out just why he was kissing a man, and one he didn't like, for that matter. Not to mention, one that needed a shave. He never would have thought that Victor was the type who would even think of doing something like this. Of course, he was wasted enough that he probably wasn't thinking, anyway. Not being able to come to any conclusions, thanks to the alcohol-induced haze he was in, he turned his attention back to his surroundings. Somehow they had moved from the living room to the bedroom, and their clothes had disappeared somewhere in the transit. Now he was flat on his back with an armful of squirming, naked Victor. Not his first—or even last—choice in bed-partners. At least, not before that night. 'He'sh gonna hate me in the morning. Even more than he already doesh,' was all Mac could think. "Thish ish... not a good idea..." "Sure it issss... The Director said she likes shexual tension in a team, right? So, les' make it a real triangle. An' don't try to get away. I'm faster than you are." This was followed up by a lick to his neck, then another tonsil-diving kiss. By that point, Mac's last functioning brain cells were shutting down in total confusion and his cock started talking too loud to hear anything else. He was so confused that the argument almost made sense. Anyway, if he wasn't going to be able to get away with his... virtue intact, he might as well enjoy it. Right? He flipped Victor over onto his back and started his own exploration. It wasn't as though he'd done this before, but 'Hey!' he thought, 'If it's something I like, he'll probably like it too.' He was almost absurdly proud to find that his line of reasoning was reasonable correct. He soon had a writhing Victor under him that was hard to hang onto. He didn't need to ask if the other man was enjoying himself—the stream of babble told him that. What did surprise him was how much he was enjoying it. After all, this was Victor! Then, suddenly he was back on the bottom and enjoying the attentions that were being lavished on him. Somehow it seemed like there had to be more than just two hands and one mouth involved, because they were everywhere! Then Victor was laying on top of him, thrusting at him with great vigor. The feeling of cock against cock was more intense than anything he had felt before. Mac thrust back, quickly picking up the tempo, until Victor froze, howling. Mac shuddered, his own orgasm triggered by the sight, and by the feel of the other man's semen spreading warmly across his own stomach. Victor collapsed on top of him, snoring already. Mac wiped them both off with a corner of the bedsheet and thought, fuzzily, of getting dressed and calling a cab to get home. He was still considering it when sleep caught up with him. Somebody stop the world, I wanna get off... The next morning Victor woke with a pounding headache and a mouth that tasted like something died in it. He was thankful that he didn't have to go to work that day. The Director would have a field day with his condition. Now, how the hell did he get this way? Then he realized he was wrapped around someone warm. Smiling to himself, he licked at the neck his face was pressed against. Then he heard the pained groan. A very decidedly masculine groan. He lifted up cautiously, stomach protesting the movement vehemently, to see who he was in bed with. It was Mac, and he looked about as hung over as Victor felt. "Mac?!?" "aaargghhh! not so loud." Mac moaned and covered bloodshot eyes. Then he peaked out again with a confused look on his face. "Mac. What are you doing in my bed?" "You don't know?" "Would I be asking if I did?" "I guess not. Ummmm. I'm not sure. You were getting really drunk in the bar last night (at least I think it was last night) and I decided I better baby-sit you, since the Director would blame me if you got in any trouble (and I really don't want to get into any more trouble with her). Oh man... I have never been so drunk in my life!" "Baby-sit?!?" They both winced at the volume. "You said something about Li Ann dumping you and it was all my fault, then we both kept drinking. And drinking. And drinking. That's the last I remember. Oooohhh... Damn, my head hurts." Mac rolled over, squinting briefly at some of the strange stains on the bedsheets, and pulled himself upright. They both staggered to their feet and made their way out to the living room. They stared at the path of clothing leading to the bedroom, discarded, it seemed, one item at a time. They looked at each other questioningly. "Nahhhhh." They both winced, then went to find something to settle their stomachs. Victor didn't notice Mac looking back at the bed with a faint look of regret. Aftermath "Damnit! How do we get in these messes anyway?" Victor popped a fresh clip into his gun while Mac fired off a couple of shots as cover. "I mean, what were we told? Two guys with handguns guarding the hostage. What do we find? No hostage and twenty guys with automatics! If they keep doing this to us, we're going to end up dead." When Victor popped up to take out a couple more of their attackers, Mac just snarled at him. "You might want to cut down the chatter, if we're going to get out of here alive, you know." Victor looked at Mac for a second before firing off another few shots. Mac had been very testy for the last few weeks. He seemed to be avoiding Victor's company, and when they were in the same room, Mac was constantly snapping at him. Maybe they had never been exactly friends, but Mac never joked around him, or made suggestive comments anymore, and Victor was missing it. Mac was immature, sarcastic and juvenile, but he was great company. Or he used to be. But now was not the time to be musing on the meaning of life. They were pinned down at the back of an old warehouse, with no way out, and a lot of really nasty types trying to kill them. Their backup, Li Ann, was on her way, but God only knew if she'd be there in time. Then there was a disturbing rattle over to the side. A familiar one. Grenade. Shit. Mac noticed it too. He immediately swept Victor off to the side, around a pile of crates, and landed on top of the older man with just seconds to spare. As his ears rang from the explosion, and the crates came tumbling down on them, Victor felt the unmistakable heat of an erection pressed against his backside. What the hell? Then everything went black. Pain greeted him when he came to his senses. Mac and Li Ann were hovering over him with concerned looks. "Wha... what happened?" They both looked relieved. Mac gave a sheepish grin. "One of the crates missed me, but bounced off of your head." Victor touched the back of his head and winced at the pain from the lump. His fingers came away stained slightly red. "Anyway, I was trying to figure out what the heck to do next, when Li Ann came bursting in. A little gunfire, a few stun-grenades, and the fight was over. Y'okay?" Victor sat up, gingerly, and gave his head a little shake. It hurt like hell, and his stomach wasn't too crazy about it either, but he was too badly hurt. He could see an Agency cleanup crew dealing with the terrorists, both alive and dead. "Yeah, I'll be okay. A good night's sleep..." Mac pulled him to his feet. He swayed for a moment, but stayed upright. Li Ann still looked worried, though. "Mac," she said. "Take him home and make sure he's all right there." "Wouldn't you be better..." She glared at him. "All right, all right. We're going. You can explain what happened to the Director, then." She blanched a little at that, but just pointed him at the door. Despite Victor's protests, Mac insisted on stopping to see a doctor first. A mild concussion was the verdict, and he was told to stay away from alcohol, and to go to the hospital if his vision started to go funny, or if he started throwing up. Then Mac drove him home and insisted on escorting him up to his apartment door. But at the door, Mac seemed to shut down. He looked everywhere except at Victor or the door, and he looked like he was going to bolt at any second. "There. I've gotten you home, and you can tell Li Ann that. See 'ya tomorrow." He was already shuffling in the direction of the elevators when Victor decided that he had had enough. He reached out to snag the young man's arm, and pulled him through the door. Mac opened his mouth to speak. "No way, Mac. We need to talk. Now." He waved Mac towards the sofa. The other man sat down, while Victor went to kitchen and filled a couple of glasses with ice water. He handed one of the glasses to Mac and then sat in a chair opposite him. "Talk to me, Mac." "I... I'm not sure what you mean." Victor sighed. This was, obviously, not going to be simple. "You've been avoiding me, treating me like I have the plague, or something. I mean, you won't even look me in the eye right now! I know that you don't really like me, but this is ridiculous." Mac muttered something indistinct, still not looking at him. Then he spoke up. "It's not that I don't like you..." "Then what's the problem? You've been acting strange since... since..." Victor stopped to think for a moment. "Since we woke up together in my bed." He remembered the stains on the sheets, and grinned. "Why, Mac! Did you take advantage of me while I was drunk?" "No!" The response was explosive and definite. Victor's grin just got wider. "Well, then, did I take advantage of you?" "Listen, I really got to get going. Get some sleep and you'll make more sense. 'Bye." Victor found himself staring at his apartment door, as it slammed shut behind the young man that had practically fled the room. Very interesting. A couple of hours later, Victor was lying in bed considering the revelations of the day. First of all, sometime during that alcohol induced blackout when Li Ann had broke off their engagement, he had dragged his other partner partner, Mac Ramsey, into his bed, and apparently had his "wicked way" with the younger man. Second, no matter what he had claimed the next morning, Mac remembered exactly what happened. Third, he must have enjoyed it, based on the erection he had been sporting when he had pushed Victor to the ground to protect him from the grenade earlier. It certainly indicated that he found Victor at least attractive. No wonder Mac was acting like he was scared out of his wits. Probably Mac had always firmly considered himself straight, and wasn't sure how to deal with the fact that a man, let alone Victor, was able to arouse him. Victor could sympathize. The first time he had hit that realization, it had felt like the entire world had changed, and he had wanted things to go back to the way they had been. But he had adjusted. He quickly learned that it didn't matter what sex his partner was. Either was fun, albeit in different ways. Idly, he wondered what would have happened if he had met Mac at the same time as he met Li Ann. He was attracted to both of them, for many of the same reasons. If he had met Mac first, instead of Li Ann, he would have pursued the young man the same way that he had pursued the woman who had been his fiancee. If he had met them both at the same time... he wasn't sure which one he might of gone after. Of course, they were engaged until they were separated during their escape from the Hong Kong crime family that had raised and trained them, and he wouldn't have hit on someone who was already taken. He had few inhibitions when it came to sex, but he didn't break up other people's relationships. Then he laughed. Mac had made no secret of the fact that he considered Victor to be a boring, anal man. It must have shocked the hell out of him to find that Victor wasn't quite the... fuddy duddy he thought he was. So, what next? Victor knew that his relationship with Li Ann was over. Since she had "postponed" their engagement, they had slipped into a comfortable friendship, despite the physical awareness. But even if she decided she did want to get married after all, he didn't think he could go back to the way they had been before. There would always be that element of doubt to their relationship. But he didn't like being alone, and his choices were limited. Li Ann was out, by her own choice. The Director... He shuddered. That option was not one he was going to consider. And working for a "shadowy government agency" kinda cut down the options for outside dating. But Mac? He was funny, if slightly juvenile. Someone Victor would trust at his back in a firefight. Hell, the other man had tried to save him from a grenade just that afternoon. And, of course, the man was sexy as Hell. So... he knew what he wanted. Now he just had to get it. His grin got wider, again. This was going to be fun. Mac wasn't going to know what hit him. Mac stood outside Victor's building for a second, collecting his wits before heading for his car. He couldn't believe just how close he had come to throwing himself at the other man. The man that Li Ann had chosen—for a while, at least- over him. What the hell was going on? He couldn't even blame it on the booze, anymore. Here he was, perfectly sober, and he still wanted to jump the man's bones. It was just adrenaline. Right. He did not want the man! Shit. Maybe, if he just kept telling himself that, he might actually start to believe it. He headed for home. The Seduction of Mac Ramsey Mac Ramsey was about to go nuts. Completely and totally nuts. For the last few weeks it seemed like every time he turned around, Victor Mansfield was always there. He snarled—Victor was still there. He insulted the man—Victor was still there. He even tried hitting the man. Victor just blocked the blow. And he was still there. Next to him in a fight. Inviting him out for drinks. Flashing that gorgeous grin. And always touching. Brushing past. Patting him on the shoulder. Mac wished that he could find some way to get rid of the older man. He had needed to switch to loose pants and long jackets, because it seemed like he was constantly hard. At night he jerked off, trying to think of anyone other than Victor, and failed miserably. Why was this happening to him? He started chasing women even more intently than before, often succeeding in catching them, but it didn't do him any good. The last blond had even stormed out in a huff. Apparently he had called out Victor's name at the worst possible moment. Sometime he wondered what might happen if he threw himself at Victor and begged the man to take him. Then he shook his head. The only result that he could imagine involved him ending up with a broken jaw. "Hey, Mac. Want to go get a beer?" "Nope. I have a date." "Kerri again?" "Nah. Kerri's history. It's Jessica now." "Riiight. So how long will she last?" "Hey! I'm young. I'm still sowing my wild oats!" "One of these days you'll have to grow up. Settle down with one person." "Suure. And what woman is going to put up with the hours we work? Let alone not knowing what I do?" "Maybe you're just looking in the wrong place." What did he mean by that? Mac grimaced as he pulled off his clothes. He dumped the once-nice outfit in the corner to be taken for incineration, trying not to smell the slime that caked it. Then he stepped into the locker room shower and turned the water on as hot as it would go. A cold draft ran across his back and he groaned as he saw Victor step into the shower, naked as the day he was born. He refused to let himself look at the other man, praying that the steam was thick enough to hide his immediate physical response. "What the hell was that stuff, anyway?" Oh great. Now he would have to talk too? "Don't know. Don't think I want to know." "Good point." Mac quickly soaped up and rinsed off, then tried to make his escape. "You missed a spot." "Huh?" "You missed a spot. There's still a smear on your back. Here, let me." Mac froze as a soapy sponge rubbed briskly at a spot above his left shoulder-blade. Bit by bit, the pressure let up, until it was almost a caress. He resisted the urge to lean into the touch by pure force of will. Then he jumped as a hand smacked his rear end. "There you go. All clean." Mac grabbed his towel and beat a hasty retreat. How the hell was he supposed to get his spare pants on over this monster woody? Mac hunched over his beer, trying to ignore the rest of the world. He knew he was wallowing in guilt, but he didn't care. A gentle touch on his shoulder brought him out of himself. "You okay, Ramsey?" He tapped his finger against the side of the beer glass. It was still his first one, since he really didn't want to hide in a drunken haze. "Not really. I've never had to do that before. I mean, shooting a terrorist with a gun was one thing. Shooting an unarmed woman..." "If you hadn't, she would have made it to that switch. Then you, I, Li Ann and half a million innocent people would have died." "I know. I just wish..." "C'mon. Let's get out of here." For once, Mac didn't argue. He just followed Victor, completely docile, out of the bar to his truck. He didn't ask where they were going. He quickly realized that they were headed for Victor's apartment. Perhaps he should have objected, but he really didn't want to be alone. Once inside the apartment, Victor took firm control. Mac found himself pushed into a warm bubble bath for half an hour, then dried and wrapped in a fuzzy robe. Food was placed in front of him and he ate mechanically. Then he was slipped into Victor's bed, with the covers pulled up under his chin. He fell asleep hearing Victor preparing to spend the night on the sofa. Sometime during the night, the usual nightmares woke him up partway. Warm lips brushed his forehead, chasing the last of the dream away, and a soft voice urged him back to sleep. He went willingly, comforted by the other presence. The next morning, Mac woke to bright sunshine. He stretched, feeling completely relaxed for the first time in a long while. He wrapped himself in Victor's robe again, and padded out to the main room. Victor greeted him with a big smile and a cup of coffee. "So. Did you sleep well?" "Yeah, I did. Thanks." He sipped the coffee, then looked up. "ummm, thanks for... chasing the... nightmare away." His face heated up in mild embarrassment. "All part of the service." "I just don't understand why." Victor frowned. "Because you were hurting. I don't like seeing people I care about hurting." "Yeah, but you don't exactly care a lot about me." Mac winced when he noticed the slightly bitter tone to his voice. By this point, they were both sitting on the sofa. They weren't quite touching, but Mac could feel the warmth of the other man's body. The hairs on his arm were standing up and he felt a need to shiver. "Whatever gave you that idea? I care a lot." Victor shifted over a little until they were sitting shoulder to shoulder. Mac could no longer control the shivers running through him. His blood was running hot and cold, and he could no longer misinterpret the signals the other man was giving off. "But you... Li Ann..." "We were together. We aren't anymore. What does that have to do with you and me?" "But you... like girls!" "And I like guys. I've known that since I was much younger than you. You're an attractive man, a very attractive man. You're funny, witty, a good man to have at your back in a fight. When you loose the sarcasm, you're fun to be around. Why wouldn't I be attracted to you?" Mac blushed. Victor reached over and brushed his fingers against Mac's cheek. The stubble rasped loudly. "Why don't you go shower and shave. I'll make breakfast." Mac wiped the moisture off of the bathroom mirror as he started up the electric razor. The face he saw was almost that of a stranger. Victor wanted him. All he had to do was... ask. But did he want to? All his life he had focused just on girls, especially since... But that was long past. He wanted Victor, but was he ready for all that being with him would mean? He could keep on the way he was right now. He shuddered at the thought of more one night stands with women who didn't understand. Didn't know how to deal with the nightmares. Wouldn't put up with the broken dates. With Victor, those problems would be gone. But what about Li Ann. If she decided she wanted Victor back, what would the other man do? If he went back to her, where would that leave Mac? Was he willing to take that chance? He laughed suddenly. Deep thoughts for a man standing in a towel shaving. The real question was if he was willing to walk out of the apartment, still wondering what it could be like? When Mac went back out to the main part of the apartment he was still wearing the robe, even though he had found his clothing neatly folded on a chair in the bedroom. Victor didn't comment, just putting a plate of scrambled eggs in front of him. Something "shoop-shooped" over the speakers, while Victor sang about "it's in his kiss". After breakfast, Mac offered to wash the dishes. He was elbow deep in suds when he felt arms wrap around his waist. This time he didn't fight the urge, and leaned back into the embrace. Victor chuckled into his ear. "Does this mean you're going to let me seduce you?" the man said with a smile. "Yeah. How long?" "How long what? How long have I been attracted to you? Since we met." "Hah! When we met you tried to beat the crap out of me." "Well, you were a stranger, standing in the middle of Li Ann's apartment. What was I supposed to do? But you just looked so... adorable, standing there holding that bunch of red roses." Mac chuckled "And you were standing there with a bunch of white roses. Anyway, that wasn't what I meant. How long have you been working at seducing me?" "Since that day when you brought me home after I got bashed by a crate. When you flew out of here, I knew I was right about having... molested you that time I was so drunk. I decided to see if you would be... receptive. When my efforts resulted in constant hardons on your part, I decided I was on the right track. I'm glad." Lips brushed below Mac's ear, and he groaned. "C'mon, Mac. Let me make you feel good." Victor lead him back into the bedroom, and he followed, more than willingly. Victor quickly stripped his clothes off, folding them neatly and placing them on top of the pile of Mac's. Mac couldn't help laughing at the almost anal neatness being displayed. But when the other man moved over to stand in front of him, he moved with a feline, almost predatory, grace. He gulped as the other man undid the robe's belt and slipped it off his shoulders, letting it fall into a pool around his feet. Victor reached out to stroke his chest. "Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful." Victor pinched lightly at the nipples, until they stood as tight peaks. Then he leaned forward to flick at one of them with his tongue. Mac felt a jolt run through his body, and he let his head fall back. He groaned as he felt Victor fasten lips on one of his nipples and suck. Mac decided that it was time that he showed some initiative. He pulled the other man over to the bed, and they lay down, side by side. He moved forward to kiss Victor, using every skill he had ever learned. The man tasted of orange juice and the spices that were in the eggs. The smoothness of his face, and the faint smell of after-shave lotion said that he had shaved before Mac had woken up. Gradually, they moved closer together until they were pressed tightly together, chest to chest. Mac pulled his mouth away with a gasp when he felt Victor's erection brush against his own. Victor smiled at him. "Shh. Let me make you feel good," he said again. Victor rolled them over so that Mac was on his back. He started nibbling his way down the young man, sucking and licking at the pulse point, nipples, navel and anywhere else that looked to be sensitive. Then he stretched out, full-length, over Mac, supporting most of his weight on his forearms. He started to gently rub their groins together. Mac moaned, and started thrusting back against the other man's movements. He reached up, blindly, to grab the Victor's face, and pulled him down into a deep kiss, the thrusts of his tongue synchronized with the movement of their hips. Victor gradually increased the tempo of his thrusts, until Mac was writhing under him, out of control from the sensations. Then he reached down to take both their cocks in a firm grip. That one touch was all that was needed to tip Mac over the edge, and Victor followed behind him quickly. When their breathing had calmed down, Victor moved towards the bedstand. Mac clutched at him, as though he thought Victor was going to leave. "Just a second, love. I just want to get us cleaned up before we stick together." He grabbed the damp cloth from where he had put it while Mac had started the dishes. It was still slightly warm, and he used it to wipe up the pools of semen. Then he settled back under the covers and pulled the young man into a tight embrace. Mac snuggled in as closely as he could. Victor wondered, briefly, what had made the other man so insecure. Then he slung one leg over Mac's, and they both slipped off to sleep. Red Roses Victor Mansfield was in a bad mood. He had spent the day chasing down leads on a case they were working on. Someone had stolen a truckload of high-tech guns from a military convoy. While it was in transit. With no one noticing. So far he had come up empty, but tomorrow was another day, Scarlett. He hoped. He suddenly stopped in the act of tossing his jacket over the back of the sofa. Sitting on his coffee-table was a vase he had never seen before. It was delicate, obviously Chinese, and very beautiful. In it was an arrangement of red and white roses. He smiled, remembering his first sight of Mac Ramsey, standing holding a bouquet of red roses. When Mac had been involved with Li Ann, he had always given her white roses. When he found out she was working for the Agency, he had stolen the information on where she was living, and broke into her apartment. To surprise her, he had run around filling all the vases with white roses. Only problem was that they were already full of red roses given to her by Victor. When he had arrived, the result was almost a french farce. Puzzled to find the vases full of white roses, with his red roses lying beside them, he had started putting the red ones back. Then, as he moved to the next room, Mac had come out and started changing the bouquets again, not sure what was going on. Finally they had run into each other, and had proceeded to try to beat each other up—while not damaging the premises, of course—until Li Ann had arrived. Victor stroked one of the roses, smiling at the memory, then headed for the bedroom. Standing in the doorway, he admired the sight of a naked—and very aroused—Mac Ramsey stretched out on his bed, rose petals decorating his skin. "Been waiting long?" "Far too long," came the smiling response. "So why don't you get rid of those clothes and come join me?" Victor quickly stripped, dropping his clothes on the floor, just to see the other man grin. Then he leaped, bouncing onto the bed next to Mac. A mock wrestling match ensued, leaving them both laughing and leaking with arousal. Finally, Victor managed to pin his lover to the mattress. He slithered his way down Mac's body to suck on his cock. He worked at keeping the suction from being too strong, running his tongue around the edge of the head. In the few weeks since they had become lovers, Victor had worked hard at mapping every single one of the younger man's erogenous zones. The appreciative sounds that Mac made were more than worth the effort. But he always made sure to keep his hands away from Mac's ass. Everytime he had tried to touch the man there, Mac froze completely. Victor hadn't pressed the man for reasons—yet—but he was going to have to, sooner or later. He had also found out, the first time that Mac had spent the night, that he suffered from frequent nightmares. Victor had a sneaking suspicion that he knew what the signs added up to, and he didn't like it at all. He put it out of his mind for the moment, and concentrated on the task at hand. "Oh, man! I hurt like hell." Victor winced as Mac stripped. The young man was already turning spectacular shades of black and blue. They had finally tracked down the fringe group that had stolen the weapons (would you believe they did it with mirrors?) and had moved in. Unfortunately, someone taking a leak outside had seen Mac and had managed to grab him. Victor and Li Ann had rescued him, and recovered the stolen guns, but not before several of the nuts had beaten Mac up. According to the Agency doctor, there were no serious injuries, but he was going to hurt for a while. "Climb into bed, love." Mac headed for the bedroom, while Victor locked up. He threw a few of those natural grain heat pads into the microwave for the required length of time, then grabbed towels and a bottle of massage oil from the bathroom. He wrapped one of the heatpads around the bottle of oil before rejoining his lover. Mac was naked, lying on his side on the bed. "Lie on your back, and let me rub some of those aches away." Mac turned over, obediently. Victor stripped down to his boxers, and moved to straddle Mac. He slipped a couple of the heat pads under Mac, where the bruising was the worst, then warmed his hand against one and poured some of the massage oil into his cupped hand. He started to firmly stroke at the muscular chest beneath him, keeping the pressure light, over the bruises, then increased the pressure where there were none. After thoroughly massaging the area, he repeated the process, rubbing in Tiger Balm this time. Then he moved down the bed to give the legs the same treatment. "Roll over, so I can do your back." Mac hesitated for a moment, then turned. This time, Victor started with the legs and worked his way up, still careful not to touch Mac's ass. When he reached Mac's back, he had moved to sit beside Mac, instead of straddling him. He was working the oil into Mac's back when he noticed an unusual texture beneath his fingers. Leaning closer, he releazed that there were scars on his lower back and- he could barely see—extending down onto the buttocks. "Mac, what are these scars from?" Instantly the young man was as tense as he had previously been relaxed. "I don't know what you're talking about." The delivery was flat, completely unlike Mac's usual annimated tones. Victor continued massaging at the hard muscles in the shoulders. "The scars on your back. I can't force you to tell me about them, but I wish you would." Mac rolled away and curled up on his side. Victor climbed into the bed and held him. "It's all right. You don't have to tell me anyhing." "Michael." Victor was startled at the apparent non-sequitor, then he frowned. "Your foster brother? The one who was obsessed with Li Ann? What about him?" He had a feeling he knew 'what about him.' "He wasn't always obsessed with her." Mac shivered a little. "That's the main reason I kept urging her to leave with me. Michael wanted her, and I knew what that meant." Victor was seeing red. "Michael forced himself on you?" Mac nodded. "He... hurt you?" Mac turned in his arms and curled up against him. "It started when we were both teens. He didn't look like it, but he was a couple of years older than me. One night, when I was fifteen, I woke up to find him in my bedroom. He said he wanted me. That he needed me. I was scared—he had a dangerous temper back then, and he resented the fact that his father cared so much for me and Li Ann. But I was also a little flattered. I looked up to him back then. "Anyway, I let him... It was nice at first. He was almost tender. Then he started to get angry. Then he started bringing toys. He made threats to make sure that I wouldn't tell his father. Then, suddenly, he stopped coming. That was a few years ago. I quickly moved out, into my own apartment. "I never told anyone. Michael would have been furious, and he scares me. He was never quite... sane." Victor stroked the other man's back, soothingly. "Well, he's dead now. He's not going to hurt you ever again. And I will never hurt you." "Are you sure? His body was never found." "Li Ann saw him drive off the edge of the road, into the water." "But his body wasn't in the car! Sometimes, when I wake in the middle of the night, I'm sure I'm going to see him standing there, waiting for me to wake up. To do whatever he orders. Holding that damn whip. Carrying that bag of toys that he liked to use on me. Shove up me." Mac was trembling uncontrollably at that point, but his eyes were still dry. Victor could see that he wasn't really focused on the here and now. He started kissing Mac's face. "Shhh. It's all right. He's gone. I won't ever do that to you. Nothing you don't want. Shhh." Gradually, Mac started to relax. When the last of the tremors were gone, he started to nuzzle at Victor's chest. Victor had lost his erection while listening to Mac talking about his abuse, but now he could feel both of them getting getting hard again. He wasn't sure that they should do this, not with everything so fresh in Mac's mind. Then a hand slipped inside his boxers, and he knew he wasn't going to be able to resist. Maybe... "Mac" "Hmmm?" "Did he ever let you... fuck him?" Mac raised his head to look at Victor in confusion. "Of course not. Why would he?" "Would you like to fuck me?" Mac was immediately shaking his head, violently. "No! I'd hurt you. I don't want to hurt you!" "Shh. You wouldn't hurt me. I'll tell you what to do, how to do it right. Here." He handed Mac the bottle of massage oil, then slipped his boxers off and rolled onto his side, facing away from Mac. "Pour some of the oil on your hand. Now, put one finger in my ass. Yes. Now move it around gently. Oh yes, just like that. Now pull it out and pour some more oil on your hand. This time put in two fingers. Open and close them, like scissors, until the muscle starts to relax. Oh God!" Victor jerked in Mac's arms. Mac immediately pulled away. "I hurt you! Shit!" "No, Mac. You just rubbed my prostate. It felt good. Like a flash running through me. Come back, please. Now do that again, but put in three fingers this time. Oh yes! Now, pour some of the oil on your cock. Push just the head in." Victor hissed a little at the feeling. "Just hold still while my ass relaxes. Hmmm. It's been a while. Now, push in further. Slowly. Yes. More. More!" When Victor felt Mac's balls against his ass, he couldn't hold still anymore. He started undulating back and forth against the other man. He reached back to grab Mac's hand and brought it around to his own cock. "Touch me. Please!" Mac started jerking him off, while he thrust harder and harder. He was practically whimpering into Victor's ear. Then he froze, and came with a sob. A couple of last tugs was all it took to finish off Victor as well. Mac clung to Victor, his breathing still erratic. Gradually, he felt himself slip out of Victor. He wished he could have stayed there forever. The idea of someone putting something in his ass still scared him, but he couldn't deny that Victor seemed to have enjoyed it. "I didn't hurt you, did I?" The sound that Victor made was almost a purr. Pure satisfaction. "Never." "Do you... want to... do me?" "Someday. When it doesn't scare you so much. When you want me to." "What if I never do?" "Then we won't. You can keep doing me." Mac cuddled up close again. Tears leaked from under his lashes, falling on Victor's chest. He wished he could really believe that Michael was really gone forever. A few ghosts had been exorcised, but not all of them. Maybe someday. THE END Note: OK, so I'm playing with the end of the movie a little. On the other hand, they never showed a body, or mentioned whether Michael died or survived, so in my universe, he disappeared. He might still be alive. You see, I've got a hankering to do hurt/comfort, with Mac being hurt, and Victor doing the comforting, so I'll probably be putting poor Mac through the wringer. Drowning Sorrows Again Mac Ramsey stared into his glass, looking for answers in the alcohol. He didn't think he was going to find any, but he was certainly going to try. "I still can't believe you were going to marry her, Mac." Mac refused to look at Victor. In the corner of his eye, he could see Li Ann and the Director talking intently. "I told you, I wanted some stability in my life. Change." "But what about me? Mac, I love you, and you were just going to walk away!" Mac snorted, then took a gulp from his glass. "Yeah, right. C'mon, Vic, we both know that isn't true." "What do you mean?" "A couple of months ago, you were in love with Li Ann." "I'm not anymore, if that's what you're getting at." "Right! You were in love with her, then poof you aren't Now you say you're in love with me. How long until you aren't?" He shook his head, as Victor opened his mouth. "Don't say it. If you want to keep sleeping together, fine. The sex is great, I can't deny that. But don't try to get serious, cause we both know it won't last. That's why I was going to marry Claire. I thought we had something that could last." He finished off the glass, then signaled for a refill. "I'm not setting myself up for this kind of grief again." Victor shook his head. He had been horrified when Mac had announced that he was getting married. Still, he had arranged a stag party (such as it was), and promised to stand up as first man, while still trying to track down the missing uranium. The fact that Mac's wife-to-be was the main suspect in the case hadn't helped. But, the whole time, he had been dying inside. Li Ann dumping him had hurt like hell. Finding out that Mac was dumping him was even worse, and he wasn't sure why, but he had hidden it. Now Mac was saying that he didn't trust Victor's feelings? Didn't believe him? Maybe he should have shown the hurt. Meanwhile, he was going to have to prove to Mac that he did love him. It would be a longer, and far more difficult campaign than seducing the beautiful young man, but he was going to give it his best shot. He certainly wasn't going to give up without a fight. Not this time. "She did love me, y'know. She couldn't shoot me." Victor grunted an affirmative as he supported Mac down the hallway. He propped Mac up against the wall, next to his apartment door, then he paused. He didn't have a key to Mac's apartment, and he didn't think that it would be a good idea to go fishing through the man's pockets. Instead, he pulled out a lock-pick and used it to jimmy the door open. "She had the gun. She coulda shot me easy. She didn't. Maybe she shoulda." "Don't talk silly, Mac." Inside, he quickly and efficiently stripped his lover, then tucked him into bed. In the kitchen, he made up a glass of the Mansfield Secret Recipe Hangover Remedy. He placed the glass, along with a couple of aspirin on the bedside table, then sat down and propped Mac up. "C'mon, Ramsey, upsy daisy. Trust me, you're gonna be miserable in the morning if you don't drink this." Mac waved the glass away. "'M already miserable. Don' wan' it. Wanna stay miserable." "Please?" Victor put all the pleading he could into his voice, but trying to keep it light. A little more coaxing, and Mac finally swallowed the aspirin, and the hangover remedy, making gagging noises at the taste. Hopefully he would feel better when he woke up. Then Victor tucked the man back under the covers and got up to leave. A hand shot out to grab his. "please don't go," came the whisper. "This wouldn't be a good idea." But he didn't pull away. He had planned to sleep on the sofa, but he knew it was damned uncomfortable. "I don't want to be alone tonight." Mac was starting to sound a little more sober, already, but his eyes were closed. Victor sighed. "All right." He stood up long enough to strip down to his underwear, then slipped under the covers. Mac rolled into his arms, and Victor stroked his hair. "It's going to be all right. You'll see. I'm not going anywhere." A snore was the only response. When Victor woke up, Mac wasn't there. He got up and headed for the living room. He smiled, remembering the time they had spent locked up in the apartment with Dobrinsky after Nicholas Love had started killing off male agents. The most frustrating thing had been the fact that they hadn't been able to fool around with the third man there. They had over-compensated by annoying the hell out of each other, trying to keep Dobrinsky from realizing they were involved. They had probably failed miserably. "Morning." Mac was holding out a coffee mug. "Morning, yourself. Feeling better?" "A little." Victor was disturbed at how lifeless Mac looked. Yesterday's events had really hit the man hard. He drank the coffee, silently, and waited for Mac to say something. Mac wandered over the window. "I was wondering. D'you think she knows?" "Hmm?" "Do you think she knows we're sleeping together?" "Who, Claire?" "No! The Director." Victor frowned. "Why would she know?" "C'mon, Vic! She knows everything. Sometimes I think she has everybody's apartments bugged, or something." Victor laughed. "I think you're getting paranoid, man. I doubt she would bother bugging her own operatives." Mac snorted. "If she did, wouldn't she have said something by now?" "Maybe she's just waiting for the right moment. Or the worst moment, which, for her, would be the same thing." "Are you saying you want to end everything? Not have anything to do with each other outside of work?" "No. Like I said, the sex is really good." Victor sighed. He thought about pressing the point, but decided that it really wasn't a good time yet. "So what do you want to do?" "I want to go to bed." Mac moved to stand in front of Victor. "Do you want to come with me?" Victor considered for a moment, then followed him into the bedroom. They both slipped out of their underwear and came together in the middle of the bed. Victor wasn't sure that this was a good idea, but both of them needed the contact. He responded, eagerly, to the kisses. Up until now, Mac had been surprisingly passive. That was obviously at an end. He liked the change. It was about time that the "old" Mac reasserted himself. When Mac rolled him over onto his stomach and prepared him for entry, he didn't resist . He was a little surprised at how tender Mac was with him. Considering Mac's mood, he had expected a rougher ride, but instead it was slow and tender. When they both came, it was quietly. Idly, he wondered if maybe Mac was right. Did the Director know? Did it really matter? Then they both fell asleep. The Director looked thoughtful, as she popped the tape out of the VCR, then placed it with the others. The records for her favorite team were getting quite bulky. She hadn't been kidding about liking the sexual tension dynamic in a team, but this might damaging. But she might as well allow it to continue—for now. It was possible that Victor could keep Mac from getting too out of hand. Well, she doubted that. Still, you never know. It was interesting seeing how they behaved around Li Ann these days. Besides. The tapes were great entertainment. And if there ever was a problem? Well... the Cleaners had been assigned to deal with these sorts of problems before. She popped a kernel of popcorn in her mouth and cued up the next tape. Maybe next time she should invite Li Ann to join her. That might be very interesting. Temptations Victor lay on his bed, staring up and the ruined light fixture, and wondered just how he had managed to get himself in this mess. He had almost lost his friends, and nearly gotten himself killed at the same time. Victor had always wondered why Mac and Li Ann were so hung up on the Tang family. Sure, they had been raised by the family, and stole for the family, but why were they so obsessed? Now... he had an idea of how they felt. He had started out infiltrating the mob on orders from the Director, but he had found the family atmosphere to be... addictive. He didn't have any family right now, except Li Ann, who had dumped him, and Mac, who didn't believe that Vic was in love with him. Then, suddenly, he was being embraced by a family that wanted him. And he had fallen for it. And it had almost gotten him killed. When the knock came at his door, he knew that it had to be Mac. Mac probably wanted to yell at him for been a fool, and he deserved it. So, he got up and opened the door. Yep. It was Mac. "So, Vic. How do we feel today?" "If you're here to yell at me, get it over with." Victor closed the door, as the grinning man entered the apartment. Mac's grin gentled a little bit. "Nah. I'm still pissed about you not being there to back me and Li Ann up, but the rest of it? I understand." Mac sat down on the sofa. "It sucks you in, doesn't it? Sometimes, a betrayal is the only thing that can make you break away." "The voice of experience?" "Hey, I'm not just an immature jerk, y'know." "She does know. You knew that." "What do you mean?" Victor pulled Mac up off the coach and into the bedroom. He pointed at the shot-up remains of the overhead light fixture. "She called me up to tell me to get out of the assignment. I wouldn't pick up the phone. She said she wasn't guessing when she said that I was there, and started describing exactly where I was and what I was doing at the time. You knew, didn't you." Mac sighed. "Yeah. When I told her I was getting married, she started quoting things I told Claire. She said I was an agent living in a secured building, in an apartment owned by the Agency, so what did I expect? That was one of the main reasons I wanted to get away." "So. Now what." 'We ignore it? Maybe she just enjoys the show. Or we sweep our apartments every day. Wait for her to say something. Whatever. Just do me one favor." Victor frowned. "What's that?" "Keep that blonde twit away from me!" Victor blinked at the sudden change of subject, then grinned. "I thought you liked blondes." Mac shuddered. "Except her! She scares me, man. That chick is totally nuts. I can't believe that the Director wants us to work with her!" Victor snickered. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I am here to cheer you up, so get dressed and let's go." Mac had been worried when Victor opened the door. The older man had looked so... lost. He had planned to teasing the man for a while for falling for the trap before dragging him out, but he had quickly changed his plans. He sympathized with Vic. Leaving the Tangs had been his choice, while Victor had been betrayed big time. Mac had been with the Tangs for years, while for Vic it had been a very short time. Still, the hurt was the same. Forget the teasing. He just wanted to get Vic smiling. "Ah, c'mon Mac. You've got to be joking." They were standing outside of one of those Hong Kong restaurants that Mac and Li Ann were always going to. "Live a little, Vic. You never know, you might like it, horrifying a thought that might be." Mac stared at him expectantly, grin glued all over his face, while Victor stood considering it. He happened to like the American version of Chinese food. He didn't really want to try the "authentic" version that Mac was always going on about, but if it would help convince Mac that he was serious... "All right. But no squid, you hear me?" Mac just grinned at him. Actually, it ended up being a great evening. Victor was surprised to find out that he enjoyed the food, not that he was going to admit that. He had still refused to try the squid, no matter how much a production Mac made out of eating it. However, Mac's production of sucking the sauce off of a teensy squid had left him partly nauseous, and partly aroused. Then Mac had dragged him off to a music club. Victor had groaned, inwardly, at the thought of listening to that modern junk that Mac called music. Instead, it turned out to be a blues club. He wasn't even sure how Mac had found the place. The music had been fantastic, and so had the company. Mac had even seemed to enjoy the music, despite the sarcastic comments. Who knows, maybe the younger man was discovering that they had more in common than they thought. That- maybe—they could coexist as more than the "friends who sleep together," or whatever, that he seemed to want to keep their relationship as. Certainly, Mac was a lot more relaxed than he had been since his ill-fated attempt at getting married. At the end of the evening, Victor had been surprised to find that his bad mood had completely evaporated. Suddenly, all he wanted to do was to get his partner home, and into bed. The cab dropped them off in front of Victor's building in the wee hours of the morning. Neither man was really drunk, merely mellow, but neither was going to risk driving. The Agency's penalties for getting arrested for drunk driving were... to be avoided. Especially since Dobrinsky was in charge of punishment, most of the time. They were heading for the door to the building, when a car came screeching around the corner. "Hit the deck!" Victor shouted as he reached for his gun. They both ducked behind a handy pillar near the doors, guns drawn and safeties off. Bullets slammed into the pillar as they dived for it. "Who are they?" Victor shouted. "How the hell should I know? They're outside your building, so maybe you should know." They fired on the vehicle as it headed around the corner, then it was gone. They stood up, looking in the direction that the car had gone. "Well, I suppose that better get reported." As soon as they reached Victor's apartment, he phoned in the shooting to the Agency. He listened for a moment, then hung up. "So. What did they say?" "They said that they would send forensics to collect the bullets outside. Nathan will start checking anyone who might have a grudge against me and is currently out of jail. In the meantime, we're to stay put." "We?" "We." Mac groaned, and Victor was tempted to do the same. He was beginning to wonder if there was anyone who didn't know about the two of them. It wasn't a comfortable feeling. In the meantime, he had a massive amount of adrenaline to work out, and from the way Mac was fidgeting, so did he. Victor watched him for a moment, then launched himself at the other man. "oomph! What the...?" Victor decided to take advantage of the open mouth, diving in for a very thorough kiss. Mac resisted for a second, then started cooperating. "Seems to me that someone is a little horny. What say we move this party into the bedroom. At least we know the camera in there isn't working." "Assuming it's the only one. Don't care. Still, bed is a lot more comfortable. Let's go." Victor jumped to his feet, then dragged Mac up and into the bedroom. Once there, he threw Mac on the bed, then stripped. Just for the heck of it, he turned it into a show, teasing the young man. The grin—as well as the growing bulge in the dress slacks—told him that the show was appreciated. Victor straddled Mac, and started undoing the buttons on his shirt. "You are wearing far too many clothes," he purred as he stripped the other man. Mac never seemed to dress casual. It was always fashion-plate suits, and silk shirts. It did make stripping him a lot of fun, though. He kissed, nibbled and sucked at each bit of flesh as it was revealed. By the time Mac was completely naked, he was doing a pretty good imitation of a puddle. Victor was doing his best to rub himself all over Mac's body, when the younger man surged, and flipped him over. "I'll have to remember how much bullets flying turns you on, Vic. Maybe the next time we come under fire in an alley I'll just take you against the brick wall. Would you like that?" Victor moaned, as Mac sucked a hickey into life on his neck. He was really getting to like having an aggressive Mac in his bed. Mac moved up his body to straddle his head. His cock was hard and flushed, right in front of Victor's face. He reached up and pulled the head into his mouth. Running his tongue around the edge, he listened for the moans to tell him what were the right places that night. "Oh, yeah! Just like that. Suck it hard." Mac dug his fingers into Victor's hair, not finding much purchase in the short-cropped locks. Victor exercised his tongue, energetically, letting Mac control the rhythm, only using his hands to keep the eager hip thrusts from going too far. The dirty talk just encouraged his efforts to new heights. It didn't take long for Mac to explode, and Victor swallowed, milking it out as long as possible. Mac slid back onto the bed, a boneless heap. Victor rolled him on his side, facing away from him, and slid his own neglected cock between Mac's thighs. The other man froze. "Nothing you don't want," he whispered in an ear. "Just squeeze your thighs together, that's all. Oooh!" He began thrusting, muscled thighs providing the friction necessary. Each thrust bumped at the back of Mac's balls, causing groans. After he finally came, he snagged his shirt to wipe them up. Then they curled up in the tangled nest of covers and to go to sleep. "I definitely need to remember how much gunplay turn you on," Mac muttered in a sleepy voice as he drifted off. Victor just grunted, in a completely satisfied way. "Well, as yet there are no leads on who fired on you last night. Nobody has been released from jail recently that might bear a grudge." The Director prowled behind the three operatives, frowning. "The markings on the bullets don't match those used in any other crimes that the computer can find. Neither of you saw the license plate numbers on the car, and there were no witnesses—not surprising, considering the hour." She raised an eyebrow, silently commenting on just why the two men were out at such an hour. "Of course, even though the shots were fired in front of Victor's building, there is the possibility that they were intended for Mac." She leaned forward to purr in his ear. "After all, Mac recently made a mistake that let the Tangs know that he and Li Ann were still alive. Mr Tang might still be angry enough to send someone after him." She pinched his cheek, hard enough to make him wince. "Of course, if it is the Tangs, then Li Ann will also be a target. As a result, we will need to be more careful. Jackie, you will be moving in with Li Ann, for the time being." She ignored the groan from the petite oriental, and the grin from the blond ex-mob queen. "As for you two boys. Obviously Victor's apartment is compromised, so, for the meanwhile, you will move in with Mac. I'm sure neither of you will object." She patted Victor on the shoulder as she went past. The two men sighed, then nodded. "Good. In the meantime, you still have a job to do, so get moving." She smiled watching them leave. Sometimes she felt like such a matchmaker. But, they still needed to find out who wanted one of her operatives dead, which one and why. She called in Dobrinsky, with the files, and prepared for a long afternoon. Innocents Victor got out of his truck with a sigh. Getting away from the Rivers had been a relief. A night spent drinking "ta-hootie fruitie", as they called it, watching the "boys" play twister and trying to fend off the roving hands of Mrs. Rivers had been worse than his idea of hell. But then, that was why the Director had sent him there. But he'd finally managed to make a graceful escape, without upsetting any of that crazy family. Hopefully he'd be able to avoid running into them in the future. Now he was finally heading for home and bed. More specifically, Mac's home and Mac's bed. He'd been living there since someone had tried to kill one, or both, of them. There had been two more attempts since then, but only when they were together, so they still didn't have a clue who the actual target was for. In case the Tangs were behind it, LiAnn had stayed with Jackie for a couple of weeks, but there had been no moves against her, so they had been able to go back to seperate apartments before they managed to kill each other, but Mac and Victor were still living at Mac's place. Not that he objected, of course. He was using it in his campaign to convince Mac that what they had was more than just sex, and could last long-term. He paused at the door, remembering what had happened when the Rivers boys had pointed the guns at them, apparently about to obey Mr. Smith's orders to kill them. He remembered the sudden tug at the cuffs joining them as Mac pulled them around so that Mac was facing the guns and Vic was on the far side of the pillar. Mac may say that he didn't love Victor, but his actions said otherwise. Mac was finally drifting back to sleep. Having the Director show up in his bedroom, wearing vinyl and lace, was like something out of a nightmare. She thought that leaving him was the punishment. Truth was, having her in the bed was more of a punishment. Suddenly, he felt the other side of the bed dip, and he threw himself off the wide, grabbing for a weapon. This time she was not going to paw him. "Hey! What the..." "Vic?" He poked his head up over the edge of the bed, not letting go of his gun. He sighed in relief when he saw his partner, putting the gun back in the side table. "Of course it's me. Who else would it be?" "Well, an hour ago it was the Director, so you tell me." Mac climbed back into the bed and pulled up the covers. "Never mind. I just want to get some sleep." Mac closed his eyes, curled up on his side facing away from Victor. He couldn't help smiling, though, when a warm, naked body pressed up against him. He started to drift off again. "Mac?" He groaned. "What?" "Why Angie?" He could hear curiosity, with a tinge of pain. He rolled over to face Victor, trying to figure out how to put it into words. "It wasn't who she was, it was what she was." Mac could tell that Victor didn't understand. "My earliest memories were of my father using me as a prop in one of his cons. While I was still a kid, he disappeared one day, leaving me alone on the streets of Hong Kong. The Tangs took me in, but immediately started training me as a thief. I was a cynic before I even knew the word. LiAnn was sold to a brothel by her parents when she was a child. When old man Tang bought the building, he sent all the girls home, but he adopted LiAnn because she tried to pick his pocket. Neither of us was ever innocent." He could feel the comprehension dawning in Victor. "Then there's you. Ex-cop who's seen everything. None of us are innocents. OK, you're naive at times. Too trusting, but not innocent. No one in this damned organization is an innocent!" "But Angie was." "I know, it sounds crazy. But... for a while... I mean, they were like something out of a sixties sitcom, even if they were thieves. For a while I could pretend... I know... it doesn't make much sense..." "It makes a lot of sense, Mac. I understand." As the arms wrapped around him, pulling him in tight, Mac realized that Victor was telling the truth. He did understand. Just like his experience with the mob let him understand how Mac and LiAnn felt about the Tangs. "Vic?" "Mmm?" came the sleepy reply. "About stealing the diamond..." "It was fun, wasn't it?" Mac could almost see the grin in the dark. Yep. Vic understood. Victor woke the next morning to warm sunshine streaming through the windows and the delicious feeling of someone licking his nipples. He shifted with a sigh. "It's about time you woke up, old man. I thought the elderly were supposed to need less sleep." "Watch the 'old'. I'm not that much older than you." He bit back a moan as Mac's chuckle vibrated his nerve endings. Mac switched attention from one nipple to the other, while wrapping one long hand around Victor's cock. He kept trying to participate, but Mac was doing a very good job of keeping him distracted. Obviously the young man was in a playful mood. Finally Victor gave up on trying to show any initiative, letting Mac have his way. He moaned when he felt slick fingers start to probe him. He moaned again when they stopped. "What...?" "Why... why do you act like that feels good?" Victor struggled for coherence. "'Cause it does. God, Mac, please... Don't stop!" The fingers started moving again, while a tongue teased at his erection. It didn't take long for climax to rush in. Mac wrapped around him, as he labored to regain his breath, lights flashing behind his eyelids. Mac was damn good at that. "Vic?" He opened his eyes to look at Mac. "How can that feel good?" He sighed. "Mac... Did you know that there's as many nerve endings in your ass as there are in your cock?" Mac shook his head, looking confused. "Properly done, anal penetration can be as enjoyable as having someone stroke your cock." He could see the disbelief on the other man's face. "Michael..." He could see the flinch on Mac's face. "When he penetrated you, what sort of preparation did he use?" Silent confusion. "You stretch me before penetration. Did he do that for you?" Head shake. "Did he use lubrication?" Another head shake. Victor sat up, suddenly. "You mean he just went in dry!?" Nod. Victor felt the rage spread. "Christ, Mac. Did sex with him ever not leave you ripped and bleeding?" Head shake. "Oh God! No wonder you don't understand. You've never had the right kind of experience." "Show me?" Victor looked over, shocked. Mac had never offered before. "Mac... we don't have to... I don't need to..." "Please. I've been wondering... You look like you enjoy it..." "Because I do!" "And I want to see why. Please?" Victor sighed. It was something he wanted, but Mac wasn't really ready, no matter what he might say. He could feel the tension in the lean body. But maybe they could work up to it. "How about just fingers, for now?" Mac seemed relieved, disappointed and tense, all at the same time. "Relax. Nothing you don't want, just like I promised before. Now, why don't you roll onto your back and try to relax." Mac did roll over, but tension was written all over him. Victor knew that if Mac didn't relax, he wouldn't be able to enjoy it. He got out of the bed and went into the bathroom to grab a bottle of baby oil. Climbing back into the bed, and poured some into the palm of his hand. "Mac, I'm just going to give you a massage. It'll help you relax." "You make a damn good masseuse." The humor in the tone was promising. "Oh, I have lots of talents." He started with the feet, moving his way up, keeping his touch firm, but soft, not trying to arouse. He stopped at the top of the thighs, not approaching the groin, then started from the neck and worked his way back down. Mac was soon purring under the attention. "Roll over so I can take care of your back." Mac rolled over, but some of the tension had returned. He had expected that. Again he worked the legs, up to just below the curve of the ass, then moved up to the base of the neck. He was straddling Mac, but propped himself up high enough that his own genitals wouldn't brush against the body beneath him. This time he didn't stop when he reached Mac's ass. Instead, he continued to massage, using firm, but impersonal strokes. Gradually he slowed them until they were more light caresses. He let his hand drift closer and closer to the crevasse between the cheeks. Mac didn't seem to notice, been half-asleep again. Victor rubbed his thumb, lightly, up and down the crevasse until Mac was squirming. "Does that feel good?" A moan was the only answer, so he increased the pressure slightly, still not doing more than rub across the sensitive anus. When he pulled his hands away, Mac made a noise of protest. "Easy. I'm just getting some more oil on my hands." He made sure that his hand was well coated before he went back to the stroking motion. This time, though, he used even more pressure, and rubbed his index finger in a small circle around Mac's anus. "Mac, I'm going to slip one finger in. It won't hurt." Mac tensed slightly, but nodded. Victor kept up the circling motion, pressing harder with each pass, until the tip of his finger slipped past the tight muscle. Victor held still until Mac realized what had happened. As he realized there was no pain, Mac relaxed. Victor started moving the finger, ever so slightly, in a thrusting motion. Mac moaned. When he felt Mac trying to move back against the finger, Victor started moving it in a circle, loosening the anal muscles. Once he was happy with the slackness, he added a second finger, keeping to the same motion. He couldn't tell if Mac had noticed the addition. He crooked the fingers, searching, until Mac bucked under him. Bingo! "Oh God!" "That's your prostate. Remember how good I said it makes you feel? Am I right?" Mac didn't answer. He was too busy thrashing around at the sensation. "Mac, roll over again." Mac protested as the fingers slipped free, but turned over, obediently. His cock was fully erect and leaking. Victor slipped his fingers back into Mac's ass, then bent his head to take in Mac's cock. By this time, the young man had lost all semblance of coherence. Victor knew that Mac wouldn't last long, so he set himself to bringing the other man to orgasm. When Mac froze, arching up off of the bed, he was yelling Victor's name. Victor moved to pull Mac into his arms, nuzzling at his face and neck. "Well?" "That was... incredible. It was..." Mac stopped, obviously unable to find the words. "Yeah, it was, wasn't it?" Mac snorted. "You don't have to be so damned modest about it." Victor just grinned. "C'mon. It's almost time to get going, and we both need a shower." Mac was whistling as he got out of the sports car. It had been a great day. They'd stopped a gang that had developed a new, and highly-addictive drug. Then, when they'd reported back to the Director, he had learned that Dobrinsky had gotten food poisoning, and would be off for a week. Now, the day was done, he was home with dinner from his favorite Hong Kong style restaurant. From the pickup truck parked a few spots down, it looked like Vic was already upstairs. Life was good. He was headed for the stairwell when three men came out of the shadows. Somehow, he didn't think they were there just to say 'Hi'. Maybe it was the ski masks rolled down over their faces. "Let me guess," he quipped as he carefully placed the takeout bag on top of the car next to him. "You're in town for a Thugs-R-Us convention." The only response was an attack, coming from three directions simultaneously. Mac lashed out with a snap-kick, striking the man on his left in the solar plexus, dropping him to the ground immediately. Without stopping, he spun to strike at the second man. Unfortunately, he wasn't able to move fast enough to stop the blow from the third man from impacting with the back of his head. As he went down, the first kick hit him in the ribs. Thankfully, everything quickly went black after that. Victor was putting one of his tapes into Mac's ridiculously over-powered sound system when he heard the thump against the apartment door. He froze, pulling his gun from it's holster. Mac was late, and he was starting to get a little worried. He went to the door, and peered out through the peep-hole. Nothing. He eased the door open, gun ready and safety off. What he saw shocked him. "Mac!?" Mac slowly swam back to consciousness. He could hear voices. "How is he, doc?" Victor. God, he loved that voice. "Two broken ribs, and three cracked. Sprained wrist. Massive bruising, but no internal bleeding. Probably concussed." Ouch. Sounded like someone got put through the wringer. Oh, yeah. He was the one who'd been put through the wringer. "But he's going to be all right, isn't he?" LiAnn. You'd almost think she was worried about him. "Yes. He just needs time to rest and recuperate." That was a relief. "Mac. Wake up." The Director. Of course she'd be there. He managed to pull his eyelids open. They felt like they were made out of lead. "Mac. Who attacked you? Did you see them?" Answering was difficult, but he managed. "Three men. Waiting. In the garage." "Describe them." "Black." "Negro?" "No. Black pants. Black shirts. Black jackets. Black gloves. Black masks. Black." "Can you give me something a little more useful?" She sounded exasperated. "Shorter. Couple inches. Well built. Like Vic? Similar." He thought about it for a moment. "One. Blue eyes. Others... brown. One oriental? The eyes. I think..." Suddenly, staying awake required too much effort, and he drifted away again. "Mac? Mac!" The doctor pulled the Director away, ignoring the glare she aimed at him. "You'll have to leave now. We'll keep him overnight for observation, but he should be able to go home tomorrow." With that, he firmly pushed them from the room. Out in the hallway, the Director nodded at the agency stationed outside the hospital room. "Well, I'd say we now know that Mac is the target. LiAnn, start pulling the records on every case Mac has worked on. Look for anyone who might match the descriptions Mac gave." She paused. "Pull Mac's prison records too. See if anyone with a grudge from Hong Kong has been released recently. Victor, work with the forensics team checking the parking garage. When Mac goes home tomorrow, stick to him like glue. I have no intention of loosing any more agents this year. Love was bad enough. Now move." They moved. Late that night, the window to Mac's hospital room opened, and a figure stepped through. If anyone had seen, they would have been amazed, since the room was on the fifth floor, and the windows weren't supposed to be able to open. The figure stepped to the bedside and looked down at the sleeping man. The mouth curved into a cruel smile, and a hand reached out to caress the bruised face. Then the intruder turned, and went back out the window, sealing it again. Only one word had been spoken. "Soon." Choices Mac took a deep breath, releasing tension with it, and moved into the opening moves of the kata. Move flowed into move, block and counter, and his mind emptied as he flowed around the room, until he had reached peace at the completion of the exercise. But then he stepped out of the final position and winced. He still hurt from the beating he had taken, and the events since then hadn't helped. He felt... unsettled. Like he was facing disaster. Or facing a choice. Choices. Like hanging from a burning rope, terrified that he would drop. Even more terrified that the antenna that Vic was hanging from would give way, Waiting for LiAnn to choose who to save. When she chose to save Vic, he hadn't been sure what to feel. Relief that Vic was safe? Anger that LiAnn had made her choice, and it wasn't him? Or just fear as the rope gave way? As he grabbed for the brick face of the building, he could hear Vic calling his name. When he pulled himself up onto the roof, the tear tracks on Vic's face had shocked him LiAnn had practically jumped through hoops, trying to make it up to him later. He hadn't done much to reassure her. Like he'd said, you can't unmake a choice. He was more concerned about Vic, though he tried not to let it show. The tough ex-cop had clung to him in silence that night. Then they'd been thrust into a new assignment before they could really deal with what had happened. And what an assignment. Guarding a drunk who wasn't a drunk. Harry had played them all for patsies, including the Director. Assassin delivery boys, feuding sets of children, neither batch terrible bright, a crime lord's legacy, a bomb, and LiAnn having to chose who to save. Again. Only this time, she hadn't chosen. She'd turned her back on the two gunmen, trusting her partners to save her. If they hadn't both had backup guns that Harry hadn't know about... She'd taken a terrible chance. Both she and the Director had said something about there always being a third door, whatever that meant. And no sooner was that done, one of Vic's old choices had come back to haunt him, and Mac hadn't been able to be there to help him. Instead, he'd had to guard a ditzy fur-coat designer at his own apartment. A ditzy designer who was dating one of the Cleaners, the Agency's top assassins. She'd drugged him and handcuffed him to the bed with a message written in red on his feet, for crying out load. Even worse than that was having the Director show up to let him look. As far as he could tell (and he wasn't trying very hard), all she'd been wearing was that fur coat, stockings and high-heeled shoes. It was weird, but he'd never known how Vic got dragged into the Agency. Turned out that he'd been in the same boat as Mac. They'd both been forced into a choice by their "families"—the Tangs for Mac and the police for Vic. They'd both ended up in jail as a result of that choice—Vic because he'd been framed by his "family". They'd both been offered a choice by the Director to join the Agency or else—else Mac would be released onto the streets of Hong Kong where he'd die, and Vic would stay in jail. They'd both chosen the Agency, He still wasn't sure why LiAnn had joined the Agency, though. But Vic's choice had come after him, and had nearly gotten him killed. Of course, that wasn't as bad as getting shot by a gang of clowns, but still... He'd woke Mac with nightmares the night before. He was brooding and moody. Mac had found a copy of a picture of Vic in uniform (good thing he lost the mustache) on the coffee table that morning. Someone—probably Vic—had drawn a clown's face on it. A sad clown. Mac was worried sick, but he didn't know what to do about it. Mac headed for the Agency showers. This time of the morning the place was empty, so he didn't have to worry about anyone else turning on a shower or flushing a toilet. As a result, he could turn the water on as hot as he liked. He waited while the heat relaxed sore muscles. A glance down showed the last bruises fading from his body. He still kept his ribs taped, but he was almost healed. Choices. There was a choice that he'd been thinking about. One that scared him, thrilled him, made him flush with heat. A choice that had been a while in the making. A choice he thought he was finally ready to make. Tonight. Victor rolled over in the bed and looked at the clock. His attempt at a nap had been a dismal failure. Insomnia was making his life hell. Closing his eyes just led to a steady stream of nightmarish images. Mac lying in the hallway outside the apartment, beaten to within an inch of his life. Mac in that hospital bed. Mac hanging from that burning rope. Mac falling to his death, even though that hadn't happened. Not to mention those damned clowns! Add to that his run-in with his old copy buddies/betrayers, and it was obviously leading to a lot of sleepless nights. He'd even considered taking sleeping pills, except that Mac's attackers were still on the loose. Not to mention whoever had cut through the hospital room window. They wouldn't even have known about that if Dobrinsky hadn't leaned against it, sending the glass plummeting to the ground. Thank God that no one had been underneath the window. Mac would be home soon, once he finished the errands that the Director had sent him on. With attacks at both apartments, it hadn't really mattered where they slept. They didn't even have to buddy up any more, but they did, automatically, when they weren't playing bodyguard to someone. They switched back and forth between apartments on a whim. Tonight, they were staying at Victor's place, because he wanted his own kitchen. He planned on cooking dinner for Mac. His last attempt, while they were guarding Harry, had been a disaster, but that was because Mac's kitchen was woefully under-stocked. Well, he might as well get started, rather than lie here and brood. Victor rolled out of bed and headed for the kitchen. Mac opened the apartment door and stopped, letting it swing shut behind him. The air was filled with the scent of... curry? It smelled pretty damn good, too. He locked the door behind him, then moved further into the apartment. The dining table was laid out with linen and fine china. Vic was lighting the candles. "Great! You're just in time." He stepped in close and pulled Mac into a deep kiss. When he stepped away again, Mac had to stiffen his knees to keep them from buckling. Vic was too damn good at that. Vic brushed a finger across Mac's lips, and he couldn't stop them from parting. Couldn't stop his tongue from darting out to tickle the finger. "He was wrong," came a whisper. "Huh?" Thinking was not really a priority when all the blood had rushed to the groin. "Harry. He called LiAnn 'the exotic beauty with lips that could change weather patterns'. That doesn't describe her, it described you." Mac was embarrassed to realize that he was blushing. Then Vic stepped away with a grin. "Anyway, dinner is ready, so sit!" Mac was surprised at how good dinner was. Curry chicken, saffron rice with raisins, a drink made with yogurt instead of wine or water. It was completely unlike what he usually ate, but it was good. Plates were cleaned, compliments were made, the disaster of a kitchen was cleaned. Low music played on the stereo providing a pleasant backdrop. Nothing was said, but they moved as one towards the bedroom. Mac stripped Victor first. The dress shirt in that ridiculous shade of green came off first, followed quickly by his undershirt. Then his jeans were undone, and slipped down over his hips. Mac knelt to remove them, taking Vic's shoes and socks off with them. He nuzzled at Vic's cock for a moment, amazed at how natural it felt now. Back when he was in prison he'd had to fight to keep from being made to do this, but here he was, eager to do it. Maybe that was the difference. It was his choice now. Vic pulled him to his feet and proceeded to kiss him senseless. Then he pulled at Mac's clothing. Silk shirt and dress pants were removed from his body, and tossed in a corner. He knew he'd have to take them to the dry-cleaners to get the wrinkles out, but he really didn't care right at that moment. The bed had been freshly made with crisp, clean linens, and the covers had been folded back in anticipation. Mac shifted, enjoying the contrast between the cool sheets beneath him and the warm body above. He gave into the sensations, not caring if half the Agency was watching them. They'd taken to sweeping both their apartments for bugs and cameras, especially the bedrooms and bathrooms, but just because they'd found some of them, that didn't mean they'd found them all. But that didn't matter. He was too busy memorizing Vic's body with his hands again. Every inch was touched and caressed. Mac knew that no matter what he said, he had fallen hard for Vic. All pretenses otherwise were to protect himself against the inevitable pain when Vic changed his mind. He was sure that if LiAnn beckoned, Vic would go back to her in a flash. He said he wouldn't, that Mac was the one he loved, but still... But that didn't really matter right now. He'd take what he could get. What mattered now were choices. Mac rolled them both over and reached for the lube sitting on the bedside table. He took Vic's hand and poured some into it. Vic smiled as he reached out to coat Mac's cock, but the younger man fended him off. Instead, he landed back on the mattress beside Vic and rolled onto his stomach, pillowing his head on his forearms. Vic hesitated. "Are you sure about this Mac?" Mac nodded. "I'm sure. I want to. Just... go slow, okay?" Vic leaned over and kissed his partner's shoulder blade. "Slow and gentle. Nothing but pleasure," he promised. Mac tensed a little as the slick fingers teased at him, but he relaxed, remembering how much he'd enjoyed having Vic's fingers in him before. One finger, then two. That was familiar. Three fingers, though, brought on a moment of pain, and he tensed up, but Vic was patient, stroking his ass cheeks and gently sliding his fingers so that they rubbed his prostate, until he was loose and relaxed and moaning. Then the fingers were gone, and he felt the peculiar sensation of cool air inside of him. The space was quickly replaced, though, with something large and solid, hot and slick. He groaned and shifted, then froze as he realized what it must be. He reached back, feeling his way with his hands, to find that Vic's cock was already a couple inches inside of him. They held still for a moment, while Mac discovered that it didn't hurt. Then he pushed back, and Vic slipped in a little further. Inch by inch they moved, until Mac could feel Vic's balls against the curve of his ass. For long moments they held there, Vic with his arms wrapped around Mac, until neither could hold still any more. Vic started to thrust, slow and gentle, like he had promised. The slight friction not stopped by the lube, caused a warmth that spread through Mac' mid-section. Then there was the electric shock of his prostate being touched. Mac pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, wanting to get better leverage, and starting pushing backwards into the thrusts. A slick hand gripped his cock, drawing a shout from him. They were moving faster, now. "Vic! I can't hold on any longer!" His muscles trembled with the strain of trying to hold back. The hand on his cock picked up the tempo. "Then come for me, Mac. Fill my hand up. Come for me, love." A tongue licked the sweat from his neck, and Mac arched and shuddered, calling out Vic's name. He could feel his muscles spasming around Vic's cock, buried deep inside of him, and felt a flood of warmth inside. Vic had come too. This was nothing like he'd ever felt before. Like fire rushing through him, burning but not harming. When Vic pulled out, Mac couldn't suppress a moan of disappointment. Vic pulled him into a tight embrace. "Did you enjoy?" There was a small tone of anxiety in the other man's voice. "Mmmmm..." Mac replied, satisfaction plain. Maybe they were right. Maybe you did just need the right partner. As he drifted to sleep, he heard Vic murmur against his forehead. "Love you." But he was asleep before he could respond. "See! I told you." LiAnn pushed back from the table and the listening equipment there. When Jackie had taunted her, claiming that Mac and Victor were lovers, she'd refused to believe it. But Jackie had claimed that she'd gotten an earful when the Director had told her to run surveillance on Mac, and had offered to prove it. She'd accepted, not expecting it to be true. "So they're lovers. So what?" Even to her own ears, she sounded defensive. Jackie just smirked, and she had to fight the urge to wipe the expression off the blonde's face. Okay, so she was still a little confused about how she felt about the guys. After all, she'd worked like hell to keep Mac from marrying that blonde bitch with the nuclear grenade. But then she'd run to save Victor when she'd had to choose who to rescue first. She was still trying to figure things out, and she'd foolishly thought that the guys would wait until she had decided. The fact that neither seemed to date a woman more than once, and even seemed to try to avoid women, except for her, had just reinforced that assumption. Finding out that they were... together. That changed... everything. Distracted, she left the room, not bothering to notice the appreciative once over that her "partner" gave her as she left. Once she was gone, Jackie put the earphones back on and leaned back in her chair. After all, they sometimes went for a second round later. In another room, at another table, a man pushed back from a video screen. On it, in fuzzy black and white, two men lay on a bed, wrapped around each other so tightly that the watcher couldn't tell where one ended and the other began, fast asleep. He picked up his glass and drained it. The glass impacted the wall, hard, spraying the area with tiny shards. "You're mine, Mac Ramsey, and I keep what is mine." Family Mac watched with a grin as Vic continued to shower advice on his little sister. Alice—or Allegra, as she preferred to be called—took it all in stride, just rolling her eyes as her brother continued to warn her. "And if there's any problems, call me. I'll be there as fast as a plane can get me there." "Give me a break, Moose. I'm quite good at taking care of myself, you know." "Right. That's why you were delivering a bomb." "I didn't know it was a bomb!" "No, but you were at Pinball Couriers because you overheard us talking about them and bombings at the same time. Put two and two together, Alice." "Allegra!" "Whatever." Luckily, Alice's flight was called at that moment, so Alice hugged her brother, then hugged Mac. "Take care of him," she whispered. "I do my best," Mac whispered back. He and Vic had taken her out to dinner before the flight and it hadn't taken her more than a couple of minutes to figure out what was up between her brother and his partner. She hadn't even blinked at finding out that her big brother was bi, just said it was cool with her. The both waved, cheerily, as she boarded the plane, then turned to head for Vic's truck. Mac slung an arm around his partner's tense shoulders. "Cheer up, Moose," he said, ignoring the muttered 'Don't call me Moose'. "She'll be fine. This Leadership Corps has an excellent reputation. I checked." Vic looked a little surprised at that. "I know," he said. "It's just... I don't like the Agency taking such an interest in her." "What do you mean?" "Well, the Director was going on about how 'promising' she was, using aliases at such an early age, and all." Mac frowned for a moment. "You think she plans on recruiting Allegra—sorry, Alice—in a few years?" "Yeah. I mean, I don't like the Agency. It uses assassins. It uses blackmail to get its agents to work for them. Even when it does good, it still scares me, and I don't want them anywhere near my little sister." "I know what you mean. Well, I'm sure that between us, when the time comes, we'll be able to figure out a way of preventing it." Vic smiled at that. "C'mon. Let's get going. I have been going nuts, not being able to be with you while Alice was around. Not to mention having to watch her throw herself at you at every opportunity." "Hey, she only did it once. Besides, she already figured out that we were sleeping together." "She did?" Vic stopped dead, turning a deep red. Mac just grinned and dragged him towards the truck. Despite Victor's comments, they ended up spending a very quiet evening. Victor was watching the late news—something he did almost religiously. Mac was lying on the sofa, his head on Victor's lap, reading a book in Chinese. Victor didn't know what it was about, and he was almost afraid to ask. After all, Mac might tell him. But, all in all, the scene was positively domestic. Mac shifted against his thigh, then put the book down. "Vic." "Hmm?" "I was wondering..." "Yeah?" Victor turned his attention to Mac. The younger man sounded... uncertain. "I was talking to Alleg... Alice while you were checking on her flight. She said something about you leaving home real young. She said it had something to do with your dad. What was it? I mean, you don't have to tell me anything, if I'm out of line. I don't exactly have the greatest father-son relationship in the world, but I wondered... Never mind. It's none of my business." Victor lay a finger of Mac's lips to stop the flow of babble. "I don't mind. We just didn't get along. I wasn't the son he wanted. He wanted a doctor, or a lawyer—someone he could show off to the neighbors. I wanted to be a cop, which wasn't something he considered brag-worthy. We fought a lot. When I was eighteen, I told him I'd been accepted at the police academy, he took a swing at me. Almost broke my jaw. I walked out, and never went back. The only time I ever heard from him after that was when I got put on trial. He wrote a letter to tell me what a dismal failure I was, and how disappointed he was in me, and saying he no longer had two sons, just one." "Just one? You have a brother?" "Yeah. He's a couple years younger than me. Jonathon. He's a sleaze-bag corporate lawyer. Just the sort of son that dad wanted. Anyway, Alice was only about two when I left home. Mom sent me letters and pictures, so that I could stay in touch. I wrote Alice a lot, and whenever dad was out of town on business and Jonathon wasn't around, I'd take Alice out for the day. Just because dad and I didn't get along, didn't mean I didn't want to be part of my sister's life. That ended when I went to jail. I hadn't seen her since." "Well, now that she knows what you've been up to, you can keep in touch again." "I know. I just wish she were going to be... closer." Mac rubbed his cheek against Victor's leg. "C'mon," he said. "It's late, and we need to get to work in the morning. Bed-time for Moose." "Don't call me 'Moose'." But Victor was smiling as he said it. Mac rolled over, and off the bed. "Hey, what the..." He sat up on the floor, sputtering, then froze. This wasn't his bedroom. It wasn't Vic's bedroom. It was... Hong Kong Prison. His old cell. "Wake up Ramsey. Time to go." Mac looked up at the shadowy figure in the guard's uniform. "Go? Go where?" "Where do all convicted criminals go?" Mac turned around, slowly. Behind him was an electric chair. He whirled around to find himself back in that nut case's kangaroo court. "You have been found guilty of crimes against society, and the penalty is... death." The guards grabbed his arms and dragged him towards the waiting chair. "No. This isn't happening. It's just a dream. It's just a dream," Mac repeated to himself. "Excuse me." Mac looked to see the Director. "Thank God!" "You don't think you can stop us, do you?" The Director frowned. "Why would I stop you? He's just a criminal, after all. And a rather incompetent one, too. And as a agent, he is a dismal failure." "I left the family because of him, and look where it got me." LiAnn? "And, like, he's just so lame." Jackie? "Wait a second," he protested. "They're going to kill me. You can't let that happen!" "C'mon, Ace. Take it like a man." Dobrinsky. "You don't think the Agency cares, do you? You're just a jackanape agent." The Cleaners. Mac's head whipped around, but everyone was ignoring him. No friendly faces, until a figure stepped out of the shadows. Mac sighed in relief. "Vic! You gotta help me!" "Why should I? C'mon, Mac. You've been using me for all these months, after all. Good old Vic. Great in bed, but that's all I want." "That's not true! I love you!" "You never said so before, so why should I believe you now?" "Because it's true!" "No it isn't. 'The sex is great, I can't deny that. But don't try to get serious, cause we both know it won't last.' Isn't that what you told me? No. I need someone who really loves me. Who'll commit to me. Someone who'll be there for the long run." "I'll be there," Mac whispered, his face crumpling. Vic stepped back, and LiAnn and Jackie immediately latched onto him. He slung his arms around the shoulders of the girls and watched, expressionless, as the guards strapped Mac into the chair. "This isn't happening. It's just a dream," Mac told himself. "This isn't happening. It's just a dream. This isn't happening. It's just a dream." He was still repeating the phrase when they pulled the lever. "Mac. Mac! Wake up!" Victor shook the shoulder of his thrashing bed- companion. Mac sat up suddenly, almost knocking him over. "Mac! Are you okay?" Mac shook his head and ran a hand over his sweat-covered face. "Yeah. Just a bad dream. Sorry I woke you." Victor was a little dubious. "You wanna talk about it?" Mac looked like he was going to say no, but then he slumped back onto the bed. Victor pulled him against his chest and cuddled him. "Memories." "Michael?" Victor could have kicked himself. He shouldn't have given in to Mac that night. Mac had enjoyed the sex, but the trauma was so deep-set... "No. Prison. And that fake courtroom. The chair. It was all muddled together, They were going to kill me. Everyone was there, but no one was going to save me. Not even you." Victor flinched. "Yes I would." "I know that. It was just a dream. Personal fears, and all that. But you know what really got me? The Cleaners." "The Cleaners? You dreamt about the Cleaners? Now that's scary." Mac snorted. "They said 'You don't think the Agency cares, do you? You're just a jackanape agent.' And they're right. The Agency doesn't care. They blackmail us into working for them. They pay us next to nothing. The Director told me, once, when I complained about her having keys to my apartment: Your clothes, your life. The Agency owns it all." Victor shivered—it was an accurate, but uncomfortable idea—but Mac went on. "And what do we have to look forward to? Winning in the Agency Awards? That's bullshit! We've only seen two cases, so far, where people were allowed to retire, and that was because they were too nutso to be of any use. Let's face it, Vic. If we continue with the Agency, all we really have to look forward to is an early grave. "And it's changing us. A few years ago, LiAnn wouldn't have hit me. At the couriers, when I asked you to hit me, to keep my cover intact, you hesitated. She didn't. She almost knocked me unconscious. That's not the old LiAnn. It made me wonder: if I stay here, what am I going to become. I don't like that thought. I..." Mac sighed. "I want out, but they aren't going to allow it, will they?" Victor closed his eyes. "No. I don't think they will." "Sometimes I get a little scared, thinking about it." "Me too." They lay together, quiet, after that. Mac's head resting on Victor's chest, over his heart. Victor's cheek resting against the dark hair. As he drifted back to sleep, Victor felt, more than heard, a soft voice against his chest. "And I do love you." But they were both asleep again before he could respond. When Victor opened his eyes, bright sunlight was streaming through the windows. Mac was still curled up, half-blanketing him. He looked over at the clock. "Shit!" he said, sitting up. "We're late. Really late." Mac sat up, rubbing at his face. "Huh?" "We were supposed to be there more than an hour ago. C'mon, partner. Move!" Victor tried to hurry his Mac up, but didn't have much luck. Bathroom, brush teeth. Then Mac headed for the shower. "We don't have time," he snapped at Mac. "Too bad, Vic. I'm covered in dried sweat, and I stink. I am going nowhere without a shower. You could use one too, y'know. C'mon," he said with a grin. "We can share. Save water, and all that." Victor knew it was a bad idea—the two of them in a shower inevitably led to...- but he let Mac coax him into it. They did both smell a little strong, and they didn't have time to take separate showers, but... They deliberately kept the water temperature tepid, to try and wake themselves up. Victor started to use a sponge to soap himself up, but Mac took it out of his hands and started to do that for him. "Mac... We really don't have time for... mmm..." Mac was ignoring him. First Victor's back was covered in suds. Then, Mac pressed up against Victor's back and reached around to wash his front. The strokes were firm, and no-nonsense, but they left his skin tingling, and his cock was rising at attention. The erection pressed up against his backside felt like it was burning hot, compared to the water. When he was done, Mac pressed the sponge into Victor's hands and stepped back. "Your turn," he said with a grin. Following Mac's lead, Victor started with the young man's back and legs. Like Mac, he used business-like strokes that left the skin clean and pink. He was pleased to note that a swipe up the cleft of Mac's ass resulted in a shiver, but not the terrified tensing that might have occurred a month or two ago. When he was done with the back, he turned Mac around and leaned him up against the shower wall. He put fresh soap on the sponge and started on the chest. The thick, dark hair held a lather beautifully. The sponge was run along the underside of Mac's arms, and Victor leaned in to take a deep breath, inhaling the scent of soap and Mac, a heady combination. Next was the stomach, and Victor slowly dropped down to his knees. As he washed Mac's legs, he leaned forward to nuzzle the erection in front of his face, making Mac groan. "Damnit, Vic! Drop the damn sponge and get up here." Grinning, Victor stood up and pressed Mac further into the tiled wall. Kissing, they started to move against each other, already lubricated by the cool water and remaining traces of soap. Neither one of them was in the mood to drag it out, so they traded off sucking on each other's tongues, while their hips moved together in a rhythm that was very familiar now and when orgasm came, it was very, very sweet. They clung together under the spray, letting the water wash away all traces of their activities. Victor chuckled. "Now we are going to be really late. The Director is going to be really pissed off. And she'll probably know exactly why we're late" Mac snorted. "So what's she going to do? Fire us? But let's get going, Moose." "Don't call me Moose!" The Director looked up as Mac and Vic entered the room. "You're late," she snapped. "Sit down." They took their seats, across the table from Jackie and LiAnn. Mac was trying to cover a grin when he noticed that Jackie was smirking at them, almost leering. LiAnn looked... uncomfortable. The Director stood up and walked around the table, a bundle of envelopes in her hands. "Well, children, it looks like we have a lead on who's been trying to remove Mac from the game." All four agents sat up. In the weeks since the first shots were fired at Mac, no clues had been found, even after he'd been put in the hospital. "Well?" Mac asked, a little impatient at the Director's casual posing. "It seems that someone you... know... was released from Hong Kong prison two months ago. He arrived in Toronto three days before the first attack, then disappeared. We have people looking for him, as well as trying to find out how he would have known you were here." "And this person would be..." Mac prompted, getting more than a little annoyed. "Kevin Chang." Mac gave a sharp exhalation, like he'd been gut-punched, and slumped back in his chair. The other three just looked puzzled. The Director turned to them. "Kevin Chang was in prison for drug smuggling. While there, he developed a taste for handsome young men, and a distaste for 'no's. According to the prison records, he tried to... attack Mac. The result was a broken arm, a broken jaw, two cracked ribs and a badly twisted knee. On his part, that is. Mac was only bruised, and was put into solitary confinement at that point—for his own protection, of course. That was about a week before I went to see him. Apparently, Chang was quite miffed about the whole business. Swore revenge, and all that." She gave an airy wave of the hand, eyes focused on the folder in front of her. "Anyway, here's his information. Do keep an eye out for him." She slid a bundle to each of the agents, then left the room. Vic opened his and winced. "Ick. 5'11", built like a professional wrestler, scar down the right cheek, tattoo of a dragon across the neck. You're not going to miss seeing him walking down the street." "No," Mac said. "He's rather... unmistakable. And he wasn't one of the men who attacked me. Doesn't fit the body types." "Well... maybe he hired some muscle." "You've got to be joking. Not his way of working. He prefers to do his dirty work himself. Enjoys it to much to give it to someone else." LiAnn frowned. "Well, maybe he knew you'd recognize him. Whoever it was obviously wanted you to survive. Maybe he's... playing first?" The two men glared at her. "That is a gruesome idea, LiAnn." "But a possibility," she shrugged. All of them stared at the pictures for a long moment. Finally, Vic spoke up. "Well, let's keep our eyes peeled." Agents and Agencies Victor looked around the room in confusion. It looked like a warehouse, though strangely decorated. Lit candles were everywhere, and a Persian rug was spread out over the concrete floor. He turned around, looking. "Hello," he called out. "Is anyone there?" "Is anyone ever there?" Victor spun to find a figure seated cross-legged on the rug. The voice was hoarse, obviously disguised, and the person was wearing orange robes, like some sort of mystic. It was impossible to figure out whether the person was male or female, but Victor thought male. He also hadn't been there two seconds ago. "Where am I? Why am I here?" he demanded. "Why are any of us here? We are not free." "What do you mean?" "We are not free. You are not free. If you are not free, then you must belong to someone. The Agency, perhaps?" Suddenly Victor realized that his hands were cuffed. A collar was buckled around his neck and a lead was attached to it. Following the line of the lead, he found the other end in the hands of the Director. She watched him with a smirk. "No," he said, pulling back. "The Agency may control me, but it doesn't own me." The Director faded away. "You are not free. If you are not free, then you must belong to someone," the figure repeated. "He belongs to me." Mac Ramsey was now standing where the Director had been before. The end of the leash was now held in Mac's hand. For a moment, Victor rebelled against the thought. Then, suddenly, he relaxed. "Yes," he said to the orange-robed man. "I belong to him." The figure faded out of existence. Victor turned back to Mac, but he was disappearing too. "Wait!" Victor called out. "Don't worry, Love. I'm not going anywhere," Mac said as he disappeared. Victor jerked awake. He was in bed. It had just been a dream. He rolled over and curled up against Mac, the other man's chest hairs tickling his cheek. He gave a deep sigh and relaxed again. "Y'okay?" came a sleepy rumble from the chest under his cheek. "Never better," he replied, then slipped back into sleep. When Mac woke the next morning, he wanted to ask Victor about the dream. He'd woken in the middle of the night to find his partner shifting restlessly in his sleep, mumbling something about not belonging to the Agency. Unfortunately, they overslept and had to move fast, and when they'd arrived at work, they were immediately thrown into a new assignment. Moorcock, an Irish terrorist accused of murder, despite his non-violent stance, was operating in the area. He'd apparently blown up a truck carrying archaeological artifacts. The British government had sent one of their top agents, Ian Lesley, to catch the man. Vic had obviously been thrilled to work with the man, one of the few British agents with a 'License to Terminate'. (Who did they think they were, anyway? James bloody Bond?) Unfortunately, the man turned out to be a big disappointment, a publicity front. While he spent all his time romancing LiAnn, his 'dogsbody', Grubb, seemed to be doing all the work. Then things had gone terribly wrong during the plan to catch Moorcock. Vic had been driving a truck loaded with more artifacts, but Moorcock attacked it sooner than they had expected. Mac had nearly had a heart-attack when they had arrived at the truck to find that Grubb had already been there, and had locked Moorcock and Victor in the back of the truck, which was rigged to explode. They had barely gotten the two men out in time. That was when they had learned that Grubb was actually Lesley's superior. While he had been sent to make a public show of trying to catch Moorcock, Grubb's mission was to kill the man, and he didn't care who he had to kill in order to succeed. He had already killed a cop who had pulled him over for speeding. He would have killed Lesley and LiAnn, as well, for interfering if Moorcock hadn't shot him instead. So now the injured Grubb was being shipped back to England in disgrace, Moorcock had vanished and Lesley was gone too. LiAnn was moping and the Director was nowhere to be found, so Mac and Vic were taking a few days off. Unfortunately they were both in neckbraces, after fighting Moorcock's thugs, two ex-pro wrestlers. It was definitely putting a crimp in their sex-lives, but it gave them some time to talk, so he finally got a description of Vic's dream. "It was the warehouse from a few weeks ago. You know, the one we woke up in, and no one could remember how we got there?" "Except that other director. The one who died." Vic frowned. "Yeah. When I was coming to, I heard him tell the Director that it was better that she didn't remember. That he had left his memories alone because he was dying. Poisoned." "So... maybe the guy in your dream was there, and you just can't remember when you're awake, so he shows up in your dreams." "Maybe... If so, he has something to do with the Agency at a high level. All I know was that he was telling me that I wasn't free, that I belonged to someone. The choice was between the Director and..." He shifted, not quite meeting Mac's eyes. "And you. I picked you." Mac felt his eyes widen slightly. Then he started to grin. "So... you belong to me, huh?" "Don't get ideas, Ramsey," Vic snarled, but his eyes were smiling. Mac couldn't stop grinning an the idea. "Well, gentlemen. Ready to get out of your collars? The physical ones, that is." Victor glared at the man. The comment was uncomfortably close to the images from his dream. "Would you stop babbling and just do it?" Mac snapped at the agency doctor. "Temper, temper, sport. You two are lucky, y'know. You should pick your fights more carefully." The doctor unsnapped Victor's collar. "It's not like we had a choice," Victor said, sighing in relief as the neckbrace came off. The damn thing had been hot, and he had developed an itch he couldn't scratch the moment it had gone on. He noticed, with some amusement, that Mac had started scratching the same spot on his neck as soon as his neckbrace had come off. "Sheesh," Mac said as they headed out the door. "If that guy wasn't white, I'd think he was Dobrinsky's twin brother." "Not to mention the fact that he's twenty years too old." "Details, details. So. What do you want to do?" The braces were off, but they weren't back on the job until the next day, so they quickly made their escape. Once outside, they both took deep breaths of the chilly fall air. "I don't know. You choose." "Ummm..." Victor wondered if maybe he shouldn't have been so quick to let Mac choose their afternoon's activities. He liked skating—hockey skating, that is—but in-line skates were a different matter. On a rink, you didn't have cracks and bulges in the ice, and the skates didn't have those damn rubber brake thingies. As a result, he had provided Mac with great amounts of amusement, and himself with great numbers of bruises. He frowned up at his partner from his current position, sitting in the middle of the bike path at the park. "Laugh all you like, Ramsey. Just remember, if it's too bruised, you won't get anywhere near it tonight." Somehow, the comment just made Mac laugh louder. He was leaning over to help Victor up, when Victor heard the distinctive sound of a bullet whizzing by. Grabbing the out-stretched hand, he pulled Mac to the ground, covering him and pulling his gun at the same time. "What the hell? Vic, this really isn't a good time or place for this sort of..." "Shh..." he said, scanning the crowd. What direction had the shot come from? This was too much like when Bingo tried to shoot him at the beach. The left. A cluster of trees. There! "Over there," he said, pointing. "It's Chang." Hard to mistake him. "Are you armed?" "Of course," Mac replied, pulling his favorite gun out from under his jacket. "You see, I have this really paranoid partner, and he's rubbing off on me. I'll circle around. Cover me." "Wait! Mac!" But Mac was already gone. Victor started fumbling with the skate buckles. "How the hell am I supposed to cover anyone with these damn things on?" Finally the skates were off, and he was ducking through the thin crowd in his stocking feet. As he neared the cluster of trees, he could see Chang moving. Moving towards... Mac! Victor realized, in a flash, what his partner was doing. He was luring Chang away from the park, and the people there, trusting Victor to save him. Victor put on a burst of speed. He was not going to let Mac down. Mac was already out of the park, keeping obstacles between him and Chang. Luckily, the other man was not terribly fast or agile—not surprising considering his build. Mac was heading down towards the water and the boathouse, from what Victor could see. He started moving parallel to the two men, waiting for his chance at a clear shot. Chang fired on Mac several more times before they had reached the boathouse, but either he was a lousy shot, or he was toying with Mac, because he missed wide each time. Victor was willing to bet on the lousy shot, since the man also seemed pretty stupid. All his focus was on Mac. Even though he had seen him with Victor, the man hadn't even glanced around once to see if anyone was tracking him. Victor breathed a sigh of relief when Mac ducked into the boathouse. There would be better cover inside, considering the size of the building, and more opportunities for the two of them to ambush Chang. He headed for a different entrance than the one the other two men had used. Through the door, he paused a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. He could hear Mac and Chang moving, but the echoes made it difficult to tell where the sounds were coming from. He started moving, trying to track the louder noises, knowing that Mac could move a lot quieter than Chang. He had almost made a complete circuit of the boathouse before he saw movement. Holding his gun at the ready, he crept up on the shadowy figure. It was Chang. He couldn't see what the other man was watching, but chances are it was Mac. Victor was moving forward, planning on knocking Chang out. Suddenly, the man grinned—a very unpleasant expression—and his gun swung to point into the corner of the room. Victor couldn't tell if Mac was actually there, but he wasn't about to take chances. "Mac! Down!" he yelled, and fired three times. The sound of the shots, in the enclosed space, were deafening. Chang jerked, then fell, not having had the chance to fire. Gun still ready, Victor moved to check the man. He was dead. Two of the shots had hit him in the heart. The third had blown half his head away. Victor did not play around when his lover's life was at stake. "Vic! We better get out of here before someone calls the cops!" Victor ignored the comment, intent on a more important issue. "Are you okay?" "Yes. Chang couldn't hit the broad side of a barn. Now, let's go! The Director will be really pissed if she has to bail us out of jail." Victor let Mac pull him towards the door. Chang was dead, and there were sirens heading their way. No reason for them to stay. Mac unlocked the door to his apartment, and motioned Vic through. They had called in the incident to the Agency, which would make sure that the police did not link the shooting back to them or the Agency. They might even be able to find Vic's rentals skates and return them to the kiosk. He turned to set the locks behind him when he felt a body push him up against the door. "Y'know, I keep forgetting just how much gun-fights turn you on, Vic," he said with a grin. Vic pulled away, long enough to turn him around so that his back was to the door. Then he was diving in for some serious hickey action. "Could have lost you, today," he growled around a mouthful of Mac's neck. "If you hadn't bent down, when Chang shot..." Mac grabbed Vic's face with both hands and dragged it into a position better suited for kissing. When their lips separated, they were both panting. "I'm fine. None of the bullets touched me. Now, how about we go to bed, and I'll show you just how fine I am." Vic's face brightened at the thought, and he went willingly as Mac tugged him towards the bedroom. The bed wasn't really necessary, but it would certainly be more comfortable. In the bedroom, Mac pulled away. "Strip," he ordered. One of these days, he was going to have to get a video camera. Film would be awfully risky, but he just had to have one of Vic's strip routines on tape. For those nights when they were on separate assignments, of course. Vic could have made a fortune in the strip club business. Mac didn't try to draw out his own disrobing. His clothes flew through the air. Grabbing Vic, he tossed the man onto the bed, quickly following him. Vic grabbed him, and they tumbled back and forth, until Mac took advantage of his slight edge in size and pinned his lover to the bed. Vic looked up at him, flushed and out of breath, but also laughing. The worry lines that had been all over his face since Chang had taken his first shots had disappeared, and his eyes glowed. Suddenly, Mac felt a melting inside of him. A year ago, if you had told him he was going to be involved with another man, he would have laughed. Or attacked. But now... Vic was quickly becoming all he wanted in life. He just wasn't sure that he could tell the other man. Maybe someday. Soon. After all, he trusted the man with his life and his body. Maybe he could trust him with his heart as well. But in the meantime. He stretched out on top of Vic, only holding enough of his weight on his elbows to keep from completely squishing the man, and bent his head to take advantage of the conveniently open mouth. He took his time, exploring every nook and cranny. Then he moved his way down, making detours to be sure that the nipples hadn't changed during his absence. He drew back a moment to admire how they stood out from the smooth chest, so unlike his own hair-covered chest. The navel was next, causing more giggles. Until Vic, he had never thought that a man could giggle appealingly, but Vic did. Finally, he reached his prize. He slung Vic's legs over his shoulders, gripping the man's hips to keep him from thrusting as Mac swallowed his cock. Up and down, reveling in the taste and sound of his lover. He reached out blindly with one hand, and a tube of lubricant was dropped into it. Simultaneously, he pressed his face down until Vic's pubic hairs were tickling his nose, and slid two fingers into the man's ass. Vic spasmed, then pulsed his seed down Mac's throat with a full-bodied cry. Mac pulled back a little, and coated his own erection with the rest of the lube, Moving back up Vic's body, keeping the legs hooked over his shoulders, he pressed into Vic, while leaning in for a kiss. Completely limp from his own orgasm, Vic could do nothing but moan as Mac started to thrust. Mac looked down at his lover. The expression of tenderness he saw there made him feel like his world was finally falling into place. He gasped, and froze, buried inside Vic as deep as he could go. For a moment he thought he could feel each spurt as it traveled deeper and deeper into the other man, never to come out again. Then he collapsed. When Mac woke, he was cuddled up against Vic, his cheek pressed to the other man's chest, listening to the steady heartbeat. "Are you sure you're okay?" "I'm fine," he reassured the man, again. "And now I have one less enemy lurking in my past." "Do you think this is over?" Mac paused, then finally said, "No. Chang shouldn't have got out of jail so soon. Someone had to have arranged it. Someone with a lot of power. And he's far too dumb to have managed to track me to Toronto. No. I think someone else is behind this." Vic sighed. "That's kinda what I figured too. Still, whoever it is, they're not likely to make another attempt too soon. "Maybe." "The death of Kevin Chang has been chalked up to gang warfare," the Director was saying as she watched her agents. Victor thought she looked very self satisfied, but he wasn't sure if it was because Chang was dead, or that the death was not linked to the Agency, or if it had something to do with the fact that she'd been missing for several days. Victor had some suspicions about that, since he'd been told she was out of the country, since she'd disappeared the same time as Lesley had headed back to England. However, he valued his life, so he wasn't going to suggest that anywhere where LiAnn might hear him. "However, we still don't know who got him out of jail, or how he ended up in Toronto, so keep your eyes open, children. "Now, your next assignment..." Thoughts From A Coffin Mac was lying on the floor of the bar. Everything was growing dim. He was dying. Then an angel appeared, pulling him back from the brink, saving his life. "LiAnn..." It was a sign. He knew it. The Fates were telling him that his was where he belonged, who he belonged to. He understood now. He looked up into her beautiful face. She was gone. Vic was there instead. He was crouched over Mac, gun held ready. "Don't worry, Mac. I'll protect you. They'll have to come through me first, Love." Mac woke with a gasp. He sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. A glance at the clock said that it was two a.m. He slumped back on the bed, trying to figure out the dream. For the last several nights, he'd been dreaming about the accident. He'd taken a whiff of one of the Cleaner's deadly potions, not knowing that the fumes were deadly too. LiAnn had saved his life by injecting the antidote directly into his heart. He had been certain that it was a sign, that it meant that LiAnn was the one he was meant to be with. Now he wasn't so sure. Suddenly, he was remembering all the time that Victor had saved his life. It was so confusing. He'd thrown himself at LiAnn, but she had said 'no'. And if she told Victor... he might lose his lover too. What the hell was he supposed to do now? Victor handed Oliver Drake off with a sigh of relief. The man wasn't too bad, and he had gotten to meet former child actress Cleo Redford (though the thought of the two together seemed... wrong somehow), but still... The man was a politician, for crying out loud. Not to mention a member of GAC—the Government Advisory Council—which he was not surprised to learn was the main funder of the Agency. GAC was a kingmaker. They had influence over, if not out-right control of, many of the most powerful nations. Not that their existence could even be proved. It made him uncomfortable, so he was glad to dump the bodyguarding duty. Except... why was Drake so intent on having Mac as his bodyguard? Mac was still recovering, not much use in case of an attack. Victor hadn't had the chance to see his lover since he gotten from the hospital, but he had heard that the younger man was still pretty weak. Considering Cleo, it wasn't likely that Drake was looking to get into Mac's pants, so why... Somehow, Victor had a bad feeling about this. And then there was LiAnn. She'd been giving him the strangest looks lately. He hoped she wasn't changing her mind about the break-up, because there was no way he was ever leaving Mac. The coffin lid clanged shut, and Mac was left in the darkness, an oxygen tank the only thing to keep him alive. Now what? Now, apparently, he was to be shipped back to Hong Kong. The coffin seemed very appropriate all of the sudden, since the result was probably going to be his own death. One of the things that Drake had said was running through his mind. They had been talking about love—Drake talking about Cleo and Mac talking about LiAnn, though in his mind he was still trying to figure out if it was LiAnn or Vic he was really talking about. Anyway, Drake had said: "You're in love with the girl, you have to be with her. Now you just have to figure out how far you're willing to go to be with her." But who? He started running through the possible options, the possible futures. LiAnn. He'd left the Tangs for her. No. That was mostly because of Michael. She'd saved his life. She'd chosen Vic's life over him. She looked after him while he was ill. She forgot his birthday. He tried to picture them together thirty years down the road. Parents, maybe. Grandparents even. The image refused to come clear. Vic. Standing up for him at his almost wedding, even with the hurt lurking in his eyes. Vic saying he loved him. Vic saying he belonged to Mac. Vic protecting him. Vic killing for him. He pictured the two of them thirty years from now. Mac grinned. Vic was cooking dinner. Proper Hong Kong food that he had learned to make for Mac. Vic was refusing to even look at the squid. They were arguing over what sort of music to play. They were making love. Shit. He understood now. How could he have made such an idiot of himself with LiAnn. He'd make it up to Vic, somehow. Then he realized he probably wouldn't get the chance. Unless help came soon, he'd be in Hong Kong. He'd be dead. That was when the gunfire started. Victor crouched behind the parked car, watching Cleo head into the warehouse. He wanted to kill her, then and there, but the Director wanted to get all of them. He didn't care. He just wanted Mac, safe and sound. When he found out the Cleo and Drake were shipping a coffin to Hong Kong, his stomach had dropped. No wonder Drake was so insistent on having Mac as a bodyguard. He was planning on selling Mac to the Tangs. Victor just prayed that it was supposed to be a live delivery. He stayed where he was, waiting for a signal from the Director. Then he heard the sound of a machine gun firing inside the building. Fuck waiting. He was going in. LiAnn rushed for the coffin. The last of the bad guys were being rounded up. Personally, she'd rather kill them all. She threw open the lid, dreading what she might see. Mac was lying there, arms on his chest and an oxygen mask strapped to his face. She sighed in relief as he blinked at her, then sat up. "What took you so long?" he asked. LiAnn smiled at him, thankful he was okay. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe she shouldn't have been so quick to say no. Maybe... But he wasn't looking at her anymore. He was looking over at Victor, and the expression in his eyes... No. Her chance was gone. Victor came rushing over. "Mac! Are you all right?" He ran a hand over the sides of the coffin. "Thank god this thing was bulletproof." "I'm fine, Vic. I just...want to go home." Before she knew what had happened, Victor had pulled Mac from the coffin and was hustling him out the door. She stood there and watched them go. "Are you all right?" She turned to find the Director standing next to her. "Yeah. I think so." "Good. Let's get out of here." With that, the older woman tossed an arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the van, where their prisoners were already stashed. They'd drop them off at the Agency, then... Then what? She'd figure something out. Victor had hustled Mac back to his place, and was doing his best to completely pamper the man. Physical stress—not to mention the emotional stress—of the day, combined with his recovery from being poisoned was not good for the young man. So... A bubble bath (a gift from his little sister before she ran off to India or Pakistan or wherever), and hot chocolate (laced liberally with rum). Fluffy blankets and soft music on the stereo. He had thought of cooking, himself, but decided to order out from Mac's favorite Hong Kong delivery restaurant instead. Cooking would mean not being in the same room. So, there they were, cuddled together, waiting for the food. Life was good. "Vic?" "Hmmm?" "I... I had some time to think today. When I was in that coffin." Victor froze. All at once he felt a little ill. Mac was going to say he wanted to break off. He just knew it. "I started thinking about the future. What I wanted. Who I wanted. I know I've been acting a little strange this week, but I finally decided." Victor braced himself. "You know when you said that you belonged to me? After that Moorcock thing?" Victor nodded. "Well, I realized today that the feeling is very much mutual." All the air in Victor's lungs expelled with a woosh, as he listened to the hesitant speech continue. "I was thinking about the future, and I realized that not only could I see us still together, years from now, I wanted that to happen. I know I've been an ass in the past, including the very recent past, but if you still..." Victor finally silenced the young man with a kiss. "Mac, I love. I've told you that before, and I plan to keep telling you on a regular basis, for a very long time. I plan to keep proving it to you..." "But not until after dinner. I'm starved." Mac looked at him, astonished, for a long moment, then started to snicker. By the time Victor had gotten to the door with his money, Mac was laughing so hard that he had to hold his sides. Victor paid the delivery boy, leaving him with a hefty tip, then turned back to his laughing lover. "So, are you gonna help me with this, or do I need to eat it all myself?" Still snickering, Mac pulled himself to his feet and headed for the kitchen to collect plates and a fork for Victor. One of these days, Victor knew he'd get the hang of the chop-sticks, but not today. Inside, he felt like dancing. Everything he wanted was falling into place. All they had left to do was figure out a way of getting out of the Agency. So why did he feel like the other shoe was about to drop? Mac rolled over and looked at the clock. It was quarter to two in the morning. In the faint moonlight coming from the window, he could just make out the features of his lover. Vic was cuddled up next to him. It was one of the ways that they were so compatible. They were both cuddlers. LiAnn used to complain, sometime, that it was sleeping with an octopus, the way Mac wrapped himself around her in his sleep. He wondered if she used to make the same complaint to Vic. Oh, well. It wasn't like it mattered anymore. Dinner had been slow and messy, neither of them using fork or chop-sticks. Instead, they had finger-fed each other, getting sauce and rice all over the place. Vic hadn't even insisted on scrubbing everything clean, afterwards. It'll wait 'til morning, he'd said. So they had gone to bed, instead. Unfortunately, they were both to tired to do anything. Instead, they'd just ended up falling asleep, a tangle of limbs. Very domestic. Very comfortable. Mac glanced over at the clock again. Two a.m. The last time he'd woken up at this time, he had been a bundle of confusion. Not anymore. It wasn't exactly what he'd expected from life—a moralistic ex-cop with a taste for eight-tracks and hockey- but it was what he had, and he wasn't going to give him up. Mac rolled against Vic's side, and was immediately pulled into a tight embrace by the still-sleeping man. Life was good. The only thing that would make it better would be having the chance to make a life outside of the Agency. So why did he feel like the other shoe was about to drop? LiAnn watched Mac from across the room. She had just given him the out that he had so desperately wanted. He had apologized for pushing her, saying that she was right. The past belonged in the past. Only, she wasn't so sure anymore. But it was the past. Mac didn't really need her in his future. He had Victor. She had... nothing. All that time spent trying to decide which of them she really wanted. Which one she would choose to spend her life with. And while she was trying to decide, they had chosen each other. They looked good together. She had to admit that. And they were better suited to each other, bickering aside. Both were romantics. Both wanted life-time commitments, hearts and flowers and she still didn't think she was ready for that. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready for that. But she did feel... left out. Like instead of being the third angle of a triangle, suddenly she was a third wheel. Out of place. "It was a good thing, what you did." LiAnn looked up to see the Director standing there. She could see that the woman knew exactly what she'd been thinking about "I know. But it still hurts." "Letting go of the past often does. You could have refused to back away. You could have fought for him. Who knows, you might even had won." "No. He had already decided on Victor. I don't think I would have won." The Director shrugged. "Maybe so. Now, I have a yen to go salsa dancing again. Care to join me? I'll even lend you an outfit to wear." LiAnn started to smile for what felt like the first time in days. "Just as long as you don't expect me to dress like a man again." "No... Actually, I have this fetching little red dress that will look just wonderful on you. C'mon. Let's go dance the night away." LiAnn stood, and let the Director lead her from the bar. She didn't look back. Not even once. Life wasn't that bad, after all. So why did she feel like the other shoe was about to drop? In The End In a bedroom, in an apartment in Toronto, a young woman sits up, coming completely awake from a dream. As she looks around the apartment, gasping and wild-eyed, she speaks one word only. "Michael." Victor sighed , and wished that Jackie would back off. First she had done her best to make him jump out of his skin, then she'd draped herself all over him, talking about her grade one play, where she'd played a basket of tomatoes. How appropriate. Now he was stuck with her, sitting in a hotel lobby, watching the elite of the international crime world march through. No one knew what the heck they were doing in Toronto. Of course the Director had to send her to be his "field guide to these underworld types." Why couldn't she have sent Mac? Of course, they might not have paid much attention to the hoards of mobsters who were checking into the hotel. The Director wanted to know why they were all showing up in town, together, and she wanted to know now. Jackie was enjoying herself, pointing out all the people she knew. "Like, don't look now, but over by the piano is a jewel thief with his ex-partner." Victor looked over, and saw his lover and their other partner come in. Mac looked over, and he could see the love in the other man's eyes. Then Jackie slapped him on the back with a laugh, almost knocking his glasses off. "I told you, don't look." The blonde grinned. "Wouldn't you just love to know what they're talking about right now?" Victor tried to pay attention to the paper that was his cover. A poor one, he knew, but it was the easiest. It was probably why she said he looked like a hotel 'dick'. Better than looking like a cop. "Uh... no," he said, trying to sound casual. Jackie grinned and leaned in closer. "Don't be so obvious. You're going to set the fire detectors off." Victor glared at her, wondering what she knew, and what she was just guessing. But he did wonder. LiAnn looked so serious. Had she thought twice about not competing with him for Mac? He was sure that Mac wouldn't change his mind, but neither of them wanted to hurt LiAnn. After all, both of them had planned to marry her, at different times. Mac leaned against the counter, only half-listening to what LiAnn was saying. His eyes were drawn to Vic's and when their gazes met, Mac felt the temperature rise and his cock twitch. Now if only Jackie weren't clinging to his lover... One of these days he was going to have to hurt her, if she didn't stop doing that. He pulled his attention back to what LiAnn was saying when he realized that she had asked him a question. Quickly replaying her conversation in his head, he responded to her question about recurring dreams with a story about one of those typical nightmares about being naked in public. They laughed, but her next words hit him like a fist in the gut. "Lately, I've been having dreams about Michael." He felt his face go stiff. "Mi... Michael. Uh... Michael Tang?" "No. Michael Jackson. Of course, Michael Tang. Our brother." "Technically, he's not really our brother..." he protested weakly. "We were family." She started going on about how it was all her fault that Michael had died. That it was her actions that were to blame for everything. Mac tried to reassure her that it wasn't her fault, but inside he was cringing. Family. Family shouldn't do what Michael had done to him. Family shouldn't rape. Abuse. He thought of telling her, but knew it wouldn't work. Even though she had seen flashes of Michael's dark side, even though she had left the family with him, she had always insisted on believing the best of Michael. Because he was "family". She wouldn't believe him. Vic was the only one who had ever believed him. Finally, he broke in on her monologue of guilt. "Look, that's the past. We have new lives now, and, y'know, we have to get on with them. "And my life is with Vic, he thought, and I don't want thoughts of Michael to poison it. LiAnn shook her head. "It's just... whenever I have these recurring dreams, they're like premonitions. Something in them always comes true." Mac looked down at the counter-top. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Vic looking at him with a worried expression. His stomach clenched, and he prayed that LiAnn was wrong this time. Michael was dead, he told himself. He just wasn't sure if that was a fact or a prayer. Victor was standing against the wall, checking his camera to find out how many shorts he'd taken, and how many were left on the roll of film. Mac was standing next to him, almost close enough to touch, and the girls were nowhere to be seen. Thank God. "So... what were you and LiAnn talking about?" he asked, trying to be nonchalant. The expression on Mac's face had worried the hell out of him. "Dreams," was the blunt, non-informative answer, so he decided to make a joke of it. "You mean like the one where you're downtown in your underwear?" "Shhh..." Mac said, starting to grin. "I'm downtown, I'm naked and it's cold out." "Ewww... I'm going to loose my lunch," Victor said, with a hot glance to show that he didn't mean it. Speaking of lunch, a delicious aroma suddenly filled the air. A young oriental woman went by carrying take-out bags, and Victor was suddenly very hungry. For food, too. Since he had gotten involved with Mac, he had started to develope a taste for "proper" Chinese food. But Mac was off and running, and he followed the young man, wondering what had set him off. Mac amazed the girl by identifying what was in the bags. Victor joked with the girl about Mac having the nose and face of a bloodhound, but the expression on that face was making him nervous. The next thing he knew, Mac was dragging him off to collect LiAnn and go back to headquarters. Once there, they had cornered the Director. Mac and LiAnn told her that the Tangs were in town, by she didn't seem convinced. Not based just on a food delivery and a dream. Fine. "I'll convince you," Victor spoke up from behind the arguing trio. The Director just looked at him. "I know them," he said, indicating his partners. "And I know their hunches." Especially Mac's hunches. "This is their turf. They're right." Surprisingly, this seemed to convince her. Mac went on to point out that the Tang Godfather didn't attend these sorts of functions, he held them. The Director ordered them to find out why. Victor was heading for the exit, planning on going back to the hotel to rejoin Jackie in watching the parade of criminals, but as soon as the Director and LiAnn were both out of sight, Mac had Victor pinned up against a handy wall, and was kissing him senseless. "What was that for?" Victor gasped when Mac pulled away. "Not that I'm complaining, mind you." "For believing me. Us." Mac replied, then he was gone, heading for his own car. Victor grinned, and headed off, a new bounce in his step. "I always do." Victor looked around the room, picking out the heads of some of the biggest crime syndicates in the world. He still couldn't believe that they had actually gotten in. And it was all thanks to Jackie. Unfortunately, he also wanted to kill her. First this guy had shown up, looking like Elvis Presley—the Las Vegas version, that is. Jackie introduces the guy as 'The King', and old Family friend. Fine and dandy, except that she then introduced Victor as her chiropractor. Now this King fellow was expecting a rub-down. Victor knew he gave a good massage— Mac had told him that often—but he didn't want to touch this guy, let alone give him a massage. And he'd gotten in even deeper when he made a comment about the man being a Presley fan. Turned out the he was convinced that Presley had stolen his image. But Jackie had calmed the man down, and given him a sob-story about wanting to get her own crime family back in big. The King knew that the Janczyk Family was down on their luck. What he didn't know was that Jackie was no longer heading the family. The family was gone, and Jackie now worked for the organization that had put them—and her—out of business. Victor still thought that the Director was nuts for bringing in Jackie. An eighteen-year-old valley-girl mob queen? Okay, so she no longer acted quite as nuts as when they were on opposite side, but still... Anyway, the King had immediately offered to bring the two of them with him to the meeting so that Jackie could start to "network" again. Woops, the meeting was starting, and the oriental man was introducing... Mr Tang. Mac had been right on the money. The Tangs had called this meeting. Victor slouched down behind the King, sliding on his sunglasses and praying that Mr Tang wouldn't see him. They had only seen each other once, briefly, but this wasn't safe... Mr Tang sat down in a chair at the center of the room, and started speaking. "Thank you all for being here. As you know, the Tang Family has conducted business with everyone here in varying capacities for a long time. This association has been mutually... beneficial. But the time has come for me to... step down." The ripple of reaction raced through the room. Victor was equally shocked. Mr Tang continued. "Please, my mind is made up. Equally, my mind is made up that the Tang Family should disengage from all criminal activity. Now, I have a plan as to how our operations will be divided amongst you. You will pay us for these assets on a long-term lease-to-own basis. You will find it more than fair." The King certainly seemed to like the deal. Looking at the papers handed to them, most of the people in the room seemed to agree. "Once these arrangements are concluded, the Tangs will only be involved in legitimate business enterprises, and this new venture will be led by my son... Michael Tang." Victor froze as the young man walked into the room. Oh, God. What was he going to tell Mac? As Mr Tang hugged his son, and the room went from shocked silence to applause, Jackie leaned forward. "I though he was dead," she whispered in Victor's ear. He took a deep breath, then let it out. "He was." And he obviously wasn't the only person in the room horrified by the events. He'd been watching the man who had introduced Mr Tang. He was making a good show of joining in the applause, but Victor had seen the anger at the announcement, and the shock at Michael's resurrection. In fact, most of the people who had arrived with Mr Tang had looked upset when he had announced that the Tangs were going legal. Victor decided to keep an eye on the man. He was going to be trouble. But God! Mac... The Director sighed as the three agents left the room. That had gone about as well as she had expected. The time had finally come to confess. Confess that Michael's body had never been recovered. Confess that a man meeting his description had been seen at the Tang holdings in South Africa. As for this business about the Tangs going straight, she didn't buy it. There had to be an angle here. No matter what LiAnn and Mac said about it having been "The Old Man"'s dream, she didn't believe that he was really going to go legitimate. He was too firmly entrenched in the criminal world to get out. The reactions from her three favorite agents had been pretty much what she'd expected. Victor had been furious that she had hid this from them. From Mac. LiAnn, despite her own teachings, seemed to be determined to believe that Mr Tang was telling the truth. She considered LiAnn her protÈgÈ, but the girl was so naÔve in many ways. This might change her mind. The Director shook her head. She knew that LiAnn was going to end up running to the Family, and she would probably drag Mac with her. He certainly wouldn't let her go alone. Hopefully they'd come out alive. Mac... She could still see the shock, the horror. She had guessed about what had gone on between him and Michael even before she had "recruited" him. Listening to the surveillance tapes from when he had told Victor all about it had just confirmed her suspicions. He was the main reason she had never revealed what she knew about Michael's apparent death. The Tangs wanting revenge kept him in line, but still functional. Knowing that Michael was still alive would have made him useless. Already, she could see him shutting down. Mac had always been a favorite. He was so cocky, so confident... so wounded. She had told herself that she was protecting him by keeping him in the dark. She just prayed that he would survive being thrown into the light. Victor opened the door to his apartment, wondering if Mac would be there. Well, if he wasn't, he'd just duck over to Mac's place. Then he'd call LiAnn. Then he'd call the Director. Whatever it took, he wasn't going to let Mac be alone tonight. The apartment was dark, but he could hear noises coming from the bedroom. Moving carefully, keeping his gun handy, just in case, he opened the door. Mac was huddled in a fetal ball on the bed, still dressed. The muffled sounds he had heard was Mac sobbing. Victor set his gun on top of the dresser, then toed off his shoes before climbing onto the bed and pulling Mac into his arms. He started rocking back and forth, making soothing sounds. Finally, the sobs slowed down. "Tell me?" he prompted in a quiet voice. "Father is dead," came the choked reply For a moment, Victor went blank. As far as he knew, Mac hadn't heard from his dad since the incident with that spay that was doing illegal organ transplants, using unwilling donors. Then he realized that Mac meant Mr Tang. The Tang Godfather was dead. Suddenly, he flashed back to see the anger on the face of the man who'd been at the meeting with the Godfather. "How?" Mac rubbed his eyes, sitting up, but Victor kept his arms around the man. Normally, Mac was so self-assured that Victor sometimes forgot that the young man was almost ten years his junior, but right now he seemed even younger than his actual age. "LiAnn wanted to go see Michael and the old man. She's so sure that they are trying to take the Family legit. She says that the old man is doing it so that she doesn't have to risk losing Michael again. Maybe she's right. But I couldn't let her go alone. I couldn't!" "Sh..." Victor soothed. "I know, I know." "They were just leaving the hotel. Michael got into the limo. Father stopped. He saw us. We were going towards him when the other car pulled up. They started shooting. We shot back. Michael shot back. The ones we didn't kill drove away. But it was too late. Father said something about 'forgiveness' and 'family', then he died!" The tears were starting again, and Victor felt helpless. No matter what had happened in the past, Mac's feeling about Mr Tang still verged on hero worship. He kept rocking the young man, stroking his hair and back. "I never had the chance to ask him." "Ask what?" "Whether he knew about what Michael was doing to me. Did he know, and not care? Or did Michael have he fooled, like he did everyone else..." Victor could understand what Mac was feeling. He needed closure, and it had been stolen from him. "It's going to be all right, Mac," was all he could say. "Maybe not today, or tomorrow, but someday..." The tears were fading again, and Mac clung to him. He brushed his lips against the creased forehead. "What do you need, Mac. Tell me." "Hold me. Love me?" "You know I do. Sh... Let me show you." Gently, he pressed Mac back down on the mattress. He pulled away long enough to strip his clothes off. Then he undressed Mac. "Shhh... I'm right here, and I'm never leaving you." Slowly, he started pressing gentle kisses all over Mac's face. Fingers stroked the young man's sides. He feathered the touches all over the furred chest, careful to never startle, never cause a flinch. When his hands reached down to Mac's genitals, he found them only half-hard. He coaxed them to full size. When Mac's cock was lifting up to full glory, Mac started to kiss him back. The long legs spread apart, and the hips canted upwards in invitation. Victor pulled away so that he could look Mac in the face. "Are you sure?" he asked. "Please," was the whispered reply. "Love me. Chase the nightmares away." Victor reached for the container of lubricant on the bedside table. Coating his fingers, he took his time in stretching Mac. There would be no pain—no discomfort even—tonight. Tonight was not the time to risk awakening bad memories. Once he was certain that Mac was as relaxed as he could be, he spread a thick coating of lubricant on his own cock. Mac wrapped his legs around Victor's waist, as he slowly pressed in. The preparations had been done well, and there wasn't even a flicker of pain on Mac's face. When Victor felt himself hit bottom, they both sighed. A slow glide, in and out. A long climb to orgasm. They came, close together, and clung to each other. There were still tears on Mac's face, and Victor could feel that his own was wet, as well. Once he had softened, he pulled out, and used some Kleenex to make a sketchy cleaning. Then he pulled Mac into his arms. "Sleep now. I'm right here. I'll keep the nightmares away." Mac made a snuffling sound, then snuggled up against Victor's chest. Soon his breathing had slowed until he was asleep. Victor lay awake for a while, though. Staring at the ceiling, wondering how he was going to protect his love from the inevitable pain that was coming. Michael. This could only be trouble. LiAnn watched the Director walk away. She still couldn't believe it. First the woman had seemed honestly sorry about their Father's death. She had even complimented him for how he'd raised and trained her and Mac. Then she'd put them on leave, telling them to do whatever they wanted. She even suggested that they go looking for revenge. Victor and Jackie were already gone. The Director had told them to stick close to someone called the King, by any means necessary. Victor had just looked ill at that. He'd expressed his own sympathies, then the two of them were gone. LiAnn turned to Mac. "We have to see Michael." Mac flinched. She had never understood the hostility between her two 'brothers'. Sure, they were rivals in a lot of ways, but it seemed to her that there was more to it. But there wasn't time now. They needed to get moving. Planning. There would be time to figure it out later. Mac paced around the bar. Idly, he wondered if maybe the Agency owned the place, since most of its clients seemed to work for the Agency in one way or another... Ah, hell. He was just trying to distract himself with this speculation. LiAnn had called the hotel and left a message for Michael to meet them there. Hopefully he wouldn't show. "So this is where you hang out." Nope. No such luck. "You like it?" Geez, Mac thought to himself. Did she have to so sound eager for approval? "I wouldn't have left the Family for it." Michael's hand went inside his jacket, and Mac reacted immediately, going for his own gun. He was relieved to note that LiAnn went for hers just as fast. Mac wondered why Michael didn't look a little more nervous with two guns pointed in his face. When a second man came out, armed, behind them, Mac had his answer. "Who are you?" Mac asked. "His conscience," was the reply. Mac gave a laugh, inside. Michael had never wanted a conscience. Nice suit, though. But the eyes were cold, and the face, expressionless. "We should put the guns down if we're going to talk," Michael said. "I don't think so," was the immediate response from LiAnn. Mac didn't take his eyes off of Mr Conscience. "You remember what happened last time," Mac pointed out. "It didn't have to be like that. I could have let you stay together, inside the Family." Mac had to fight back a bitter laugh. And there was a nice bridge for sale in Brooklyn. "You didn't leave us. I drove you out." How true. "But I did it for love." You don't know what love is. "I was wrong. I apologize." Riiight. "I renounce it." Michael surprised him by tossing his gun away, then ordering his... friend to put his own away. Mr Conscience just holstered his. Seemed that he drew the line at throwing his own weapon away. Mac and LiAnn put their own guns away. Michael pointed out that they needed to talk fast. LiAnn asked about the other guy. "Paul can hear anything," Michael replied. "He's in charge of keeping me alive. He's my brother." That got Mac to take his eyes off of the man. "I thought I was your brother." And we both know how you treat your brothers. "You were. It didn't work out," was the cold reply. "I'm sorry about it." I'm not. Mac only listened with half his attention as Michael spun his sob story about being thought dead, reinventing himself on the side of the angels. He went on about how the Family should be legit. Mac finally couldn't listen anymore. "I'm outta here," he said, heading for the door. "Oh, so you're reborn on the side of good, but you won't allow me the same?" Mac stopped and turned around, angry. "I don't allow you anything. You know why? Because you are what you are, and you are what you always were. Evil. So we're going to leave now. You going to try to stop us?" "No. We're going to ask you to stay." "Ask us to stay?" Mac said with a laugh. "Here's a little safety tip for you. Whatever you've planned, forget it. You try anything and I'll kill you." Mac turned and left. He was a little surprised when LiAnn came with him. Victor had decided that hell was being in a hotel room with the King. The man was popping pills, drinking booze, eating the most disgusting foods and going on about partying. The Godfather's death had apparently made him decide that he was going to enjoy himself tonight, because who knew when he might die. He amused himself by demonstrating some lousy karate, and shot at his own bodyguard. The one thing that scared Victor was the fact that the King kept going on about his rub-down. He said he wanted the three of them to go into the bedroom for it, and Victor had a nasty suspicion that the man was thinking of more than just a massage, and while he had no objections to the concept of a threesome... He would kill the man first. The Director waited for Mac and LiAnn, wondering for the first time in a long time if he was making a mistake. Michael Tang was standing beside her, and she'd just finished negotiating for his help in a... personal matter. In return, he wanted only one thing. Mac and LiAnn. When they entered, she could see the shock on their faces. The confusion in LiAnn's eyes, the betrayal in Mac's. And she was going to convince them to go back to the Family. She told them about the gang warfare that was ripping the Tangs apart. She told them that she believed Michael when he said he was going to purge the violence from the Family, taking the Tangs legit. The same story that she had refused to believe from his father. "We left the Tangs, but the Tangs haven't left us." LiAnn understood. Unfortunately, LiAnn also wanted to believe Michael, and that sentimentality was dangerous. Mac refused to believe, and that hostility was also dangerous. So, she held out the carrot of helping to change the family that raised them. LiAnn took the carrot, and she knew that Mac would follow to protect his 'sister'. She left them in the room together. Sometimes she almost hated herself. Jackie passed the Director as she entered the bar. The older woman was leaving with a grim look on her face. Over at the bar counter, she could see Mac and Victor talking. They both looked so damn serious. She was surprised that Vic wasn't jumping for joy. After all, King had keeled over dead, saving him the trouble of killing the man to keep from having to give him a rub-down. She saw LiAnn sitting at a table, over in the corner, and went to join her. "So... Like, what happened? It's like a funeral in here." LiAnn swirled her drink in the glass, not looking up. "The Director asked us to help Michael get back control of the Family." "Did you?" "Yes. His plan was for me to go to the people who killed Father, and offer to turn Mac and Michael over to them, to get back in the Family. Michael said that by putting both of them in equal danger, it would prove he was sincere. The meeting was set up for a restaurant. No one expected them to open fire." Jackie winced at the thought of a gun battle in a restaurant during dinner. LiAnn sighed, and took a gulp of her drink. "They shot, we shot, we were left standing." She finally turned to face Jackie. Her eyes were practically glowing in the dim light of the bar. "Michael came through for us. He saved Mac's life. He's really going to take the Family legal." Jackie eyed her, dubiously. "Would you go back to Hong Kong if he asked you?" "I... don't know." Jackie started putting two and two together. "You're tempted, aren't you. Not just because it's the Family, either. Three guys have been in love with you, and you lost them all. Michael died. You pushed Mac and Victor away, and now they have each other. But suddenly Michael is back, not dead anymore, and maybe you've been given another chance." LiAnn's face went blank. "I... hadn't thought of it that way." "Maybe you should." "I know I'm right about Michael." Mac's hand still itched from shaking Michael's hand. It was the first time that he had willingly touched the other man in years. In his mind's eye, he could still see the restaurant, the bodies, feel the gun pressed into his back as he lay on the floor. He could also still see LiAnn going into the man's arms, and his stomach clenched. "He saved your life," Vic pointed out. "I know that. I just... I have this feeling." "Listen, man. Letting go is not always easy. Saying you're wrong, forgiving. It doesn't come naturally for some of us. Believe me, I know." "I just have this feeling." Mac turned suddenly. "Do you really think Michael has changed?" "I don't know, but nearly dying can make you take a long look at your life." "I was just thinking. What about Kevin Chang." Vic frowned. "He died more than a month ago. What about him?" "You remember what we said? How someone with a lot of power in Hong Kong would have been needed to get him out of prison?" He could see the light start to dawn. "Powerful. Like the Tangs." "And how did he find me in Toronto?" "The Tangs knew you were here." "Exactly." He could see the wheels turning in Vic's head, the protective instincts kicking in. He drained his glass, and pushed away from the bar. He didn't want to think about it anymore that night. "C'mon, Vic. I want to go home." "Home," Vic agreed, and they left the bar. "It was strange being a part of that family again. Being part of the team. LiAnn believed me, but Mac..." Michael laughed, stalking across the room. "I saved his life... and I don't think he even believes me now." "He will," Paul said, looking at him, then repeated himself in Cantonese. "I hope you're right. I need them to believe in me, before I can do what I have to do." He stopped in front of his bodyguard, his brother, and reached up to stroke the cheek. "Do you believe in me?" The other man twisted his head to kiss the hand that cupped his cheek. "Always, Michael." Michael pulled the man's face down and kissed him. At the last moment, he bit down. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth, exciting him. He reached to rip open the shirt, not caring that his fingernails caught on the skin beneath, leaving red tracks in the skin. Roughly, he pushed the man towards the bed, stopping to admire the swollen lip, blood still oozing from the bite marks. He licked the beads away, then stood back. He stripped quickly, and waited impatiently while Paul did the same. He wasn't in the mood to wait. Not tonight. Legs over the shoulders, and straight in. It was tough going at first, but practice loosened him up, and blood quickly lubricated the way. Paul's erection made him smile. This 'brother' had proven so much more... trainable than his last one. Finding someone who was a masochist had obviously been the right way to go. Suddenly, instead of Paul's bearded face he could see Mac under him, writhing and sobbing. The image made him grin, and he shot deep inside the flesh that surrounded him. Then Mac's face was gone, and Paul's orgasm grabbed him hard. He pulled out, and went to the washroom to wash his cock off. Mac had been his before, and would be again. For a while, at least. Mac threw himself to the side, dodging the bullet racing towards him, and hit the floor with a gasp. He realized that he was naked, tangled in the bed-spread, "Mac, are you all right?" Vic's worried face peered at him from over the edge of the bed. "I... yeah... Just a nightmare." I think. He pulled himself back up onto the bed, and was immediately wrapped in Vic's arms. Lips pressed to his forehead, then below the ear. "Tell me about it?" "Michael." Mac rolled over to face Vic. "I can't really describe it, but it was me against him. At the end, he said 'no doubt you are a competent warrior, but people believe in me. I win, because I'm the master of appearances.' Then he shot at me." "Master of appearances, huh? Well, he's not going to win this time." Mac cuddled up against Vic's side. "I wish I could believe that," he said. The Director stalked down the stairs and waved a hand at the screen on the wall. "Behold the face of evil," she said, then turned. Dobrinsky. She sighed. "That's what I get for trying to make an entrance. Next!" The image was replaced with one of a man in his thirties, with short brown hair and cold eyes. "This is Gerald Pouchie." "What kind of name is Pouchie?" Victor had to ask. "It's an old Huguenot name, I believe." "What's a Huguenot?" Education, these days, was obviously sorely deficient. "A French Protestant." Mac immediately piped up, as if on cue. "Uh... what's a Protestant?" "All right, that's enough. This is serious." Very serious. Pouchie was one of the world's top assassins, and he was in town, and he was trouble. He'd already killed at least once since arriving, she explained. "Locate him and stop him," she ordered. "Kill him, if necessary. In fact... kill him anyway." "Uh... that's illegal," LiAnn protested. "I'll overlook it. He seems to have been at work last night. Dobrinsky has the details." She turned and headed back up the stairs. Hopefully, they would stop Pouchie without getting themselves hurt. Stop him before... well, before it was too late. In the meanwhile, she had some plans of her own. Victor left the apartment of Elizabeth Douglas, widow and now deceased, with Mac. Mac and LiAnn had disappeared to meet with Michael before coming to the scene. The woman was dead at her desk, with all the ear-marks of a Pouchie hit. The right kind of gun was used, and the wrapper from Pouchie's favorite brand of candy had been left at the scene. But why her? And why was the Director so intent on stopping this one assassin? But, right now he was more interested in another question, though. "So... How'd it go with Michael?" Mac snorted. "First he tried to impress us with how well the Family is doing in legitimate business ventures. Then he told us he had changed from when we knew him before. Finally, he offered us money for our time in the Family, our services. It felt so good to refuse it. He cried some crocodile tears, but didn't try to convince us to take it." "How did LiAnn react to all this?" Mac sighed. "I just don't understand why she's so willing to believe him. She says I'm biased by bad memories. She doesn't know how bad those memories are. She thinks that the offer of money proves he's changed, cause he never would have offered before." Victor rubbed his face. "This could get nasty. What is Michael up to? Maybe... maybe you should tell her why..." "No. She wouldn't believe me. She'd say I was making it up to change her mind. She would. She thinks I'm being irrational about him." Mac looked away from Victor for a moment, and when he turned back, his eyes were bleak. "Sometimes, I wonder if she's right, Maybe Michael has changed. But most of the time, I know I'm right, and I'm scared that she's going to fall into his arms, into whatever trap he's planned. I... I just don't know what to do." Victor pulled Mac into a hug. "We'll figure something out. Don't worry." Mac stared at the papers in front of him, trying to distract himself with work. Lazlo duPont. Former first violinist at the Toronto Symphony. Then concert master. Then homeless nutcase. Now Pouchie victim number two. Why? What was Pouchie up to? And what was the Director up to? Victor had already talked to Murphy and Camier, the Cleaners. According to them, there was a connection between the Director and Pouchie, but even they didn't know what it was. Ah, well. There was no time to speculate. Maybe if they could figure out what Pouchie was up to—"whacking a widow, then whacking a whacko" as the Director had put it—they would be able to stop him. Then they'd get their answers. He wasn't really sure that he wanted to know, though. The Director wandered through the Christmas tree lot, idly looking around. The night air was crisp. She could feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle, though. It was Pouchie. She was sure of it. If she could lure him out, get him to make an attempt, maybe she could end this now. She knew he was coming for her. Sooner or later. She looked across the street and tensed when she saw the figure next to her limo. No. Just a cop giving her a ticket. Damnit, maybe she was wasting her time. Then again, maybe not. The first bullet nearly hit her. She dove for cover, pulling her own gun, but it was too late. A car was already taking off. She'd missed her chance. Mac arrived at the Agency, the next day, at the same time as Vic and LiAnn. "Well," he said, conversationally. "Lazlo's friend is as nuts as he was. All she could tell me was that the concert master before Lazlo committed suicide. You?" Vic grimaced. "I talked to the Director. All I got were hints that whatever their connection was, it was... personal. She warned me about getting involved in her personal affairs. She's starting to worry me." "I went to see Michael." Mac and Vic turned towards her. Mac was horrified. "He wants me to help him convince you to trust him," she said, not looking him in the eye. "Are you going to?" "I... was tempted. But as I was leaving, I found one of Pouchie's candy wrappers on the floor. He says that the Director asked him to hire Pouchie." Mac turned towards her as they went into the briefing room. "No way that the Director asked Michael to hire Pouchie. It's just another of Michael's lies." "No, it's another one of the Director's lies," LiAnn shot back. Mac turned towards the table, and flinched when he saw Michael standing next to the Director. Even worse, she confirmed his story. He knew it was a trick of Michael's. He was using her, even more that she was using him, using the Tang name to get to Pouchie. It was almost a relief when Michael invited a fight. Michael actually seemed to believe that even Victor would trust him, the way LiAnn did. That Mac was the only one who didn't. "You guys..." LiAnn started to say, but Vic cut her off. "Noooo... don't be hasty. This could be interesting." He gave Mac a grin, as he walked past, as if to say 'kick his ass'. Kick his ass, he did. The only thing that would have been more satisfying would be if Michael had fought back. But no. He was trying to prove he wasn't hair-trigger violent anymore. He let Mac do whatever he wanted. But it felt so goood... But the phone rang, interrupting them. Pouchie had struck again. Ennio Marcogliese, mobster. The Director ordered Vic to go to the funeral, since Pouchie often took photographs for his collection. LiAnn, she sent to the archives to try to track down the connection between the victims. "What about me?" Mac asked as she moved to help Michael up off of the floor. "You need time to think," she said, angrily, then left. Victor sighed as he headed for the archive. The funeral had turned out to be a bust. Jackie had shown up, representing the Janczyk Family. Turned out that the Marcogliese Family were...friends. Now she was tagging along, all eager to help find Pouchie. "So," he said to LiAnn as they entered the Archives computer room. "Apart from the fact that they were all murdered by Pouchie, how do a mobster, a widow and a street guy connect?" LiAnn shrugged. "This is not good." "In fact, it's bad," Jackie added, sitting down. "Well, maybe the only thing these three did have in common was Pouchie," LiAnn said. Victor and Jackie looked at her. "Isn't that a little too obvious?" Jackie asked. "Well, too obvious is all we have at the moment," LiAnn shot back in a mild voice. "You know Marcogliese, right?" Victor said to Jackie. LiAnn's hunches were often good. "Can you think of any reason he might be tied to Pouchie?" "Well, you know... There was a hit on his brother Carlo, years ago," Jackie said thoughtfully. "Everyone just assumed that Ennio hired within the ranks." "All right, there's something," LiAnn said, then started pulling up the files on the other two victims. Elizabeth Douglas had two dead husbands. One died in an obvious accident. The other was shot and killed in an apparent robbery attempt. The gun used was the same that Pouchie used. Lazlo duPoint became concert master after his predecessor committed suicide. Same type of gun. It was obvious. Pouchie was killing off his former employers. It was the only thing that made sense. Maybe he was retiring, and wanted to clean the books. But why was the Director... "Because I once hired Gerald Pouchie," was the answer from the doorway, making them all jump. "There. Happy?" Then she was gone again. "So she's trying to get him before he gets her," Victor said, slumping on the sofa. "Only thing is, her methods are likely to get her killed. I went to talk to her, and she was on the phone with Michael. She told him to hire Pouchie to kill her. I told her she was making a mistake, trusting Michael. She says I can't see clearly, cause I've got a lot of baggage where Michael is concerned. Doesn't she understand? I know Michael! And she's so blinded by Pouchie that she's not seeing clearly, but she refuses to see that." Mac grimaced. Victor sighed. Obviously, Mac's stomach was giving him trouble again. Neither one of them wanted to eat, but they needed to relax, to get some sleep. He went to the kitchen and made up a couple mugs of chamomile tea, sweetened with honey. "Here," he said, handing one of the mugs to Mac, as they climbed into bed. "Drink this and get some sleep. Somehow, I think this will all be over tomorrow night." "Then what?" Mac said, already getting drowsy from the hot, sweet liquid. "I don't think I can handle this anymore. I want out. I want a life. I want... a lot of things." "So do I, Mac. So do I." Mac frowned, then turned to look at him. "Do you think Michael could have changed?" Victor thought about it for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to Mac. "I think he has changed. The Michael you've told me about wouldn't have let you beat him up. He would have hit first." He put his empty mug on the bedside table and wrapped himself around Mac. "Do I think he's gone straight? Maybe. Do I think that his basic attitudes towards you, and other people he uses, has changed? I doubt it. People don't change that much, that fast. But... I don't know. It would be nice if it were true." All three of them showed up, the next day, and parked themselves in the Director's office to wait. She glared at them, but they refused to react. When Michael finally arrived, late in the evening, it was short and to the point. The Viceroy Soy Mill. Eleven p.m. He would get there early and pay Pouchie. Then she would show up. Michael left to go to the meet. They suggested setting up a trap, but she refused to consider it. She was atoning. Seemed that she had hired Pouchie to work for the Agency, years ago. She trained him, molded him, and then he had gone independant for the money. Pouchie didn't kill the guilty. He killed anyone he was paid to, including innocents who just got in the way of the wrong people. That, the Director blamed herself for. So, she was going, and she was going alone. She ordered them to wait for her there. Then she was gone. Vic looked at them. "Okay, so we give her... what? A two-minute head start?" "One," LiAnn piped up. "Hell, let's go now," Mac said. "Okay." They rushed after her. The Director entered the Mill, leaving Michael outside. This was it. She could hear whistling, and there was a candy wrapper on the ground. "Pouchie," she called out. "I'm here." No answer. "Hey, I don't mind being murdered, but I hate being kept waiting. C'mon! I want to see you. I want you to look me in the eye. You're not going to shoot me in the back," she taunted, moving through the dark and empty space. "You haven't declined that much, have you?" A man stepped out, too far away to see more than a silhouette. At last. She needed to finish this, fast. She knew her three agents would disobey her orders to stay away. She wanted to end this before they got there. "Good. At least we can settle this thing properly," she said as the man walked forward. "Okay?" She handed towards him, waiting for him to go for his gun, when he stepped into a patch of moonlight. It wasn't Pouchie! She dove for cover, as gunfire from several angles. Mac eyed Michael, as they got out of the car. He was tempted to just kill the bastard, and be done with it, but not while the Director was in trouble. Vic and LiAnn headed for the south entrance, telling him to wait, then go in. They'd sandwich Pouchie between them. The sound of a gun safety being release made him spin to see Michael, armed. "I'm going with you," Michael said, an earnest look on his face. "Why?" "Because we're family." Fine, Mac thought. I can keep a better eye on you this way. "I can't believe you brought shooters, Pouchie," the Director shouted. "I don't know whether to be flattered or disappointed." "You want me?" came the reply. It sounded like he was higher up than her. "Come and get me!" "Oh, I will," she snarled. In the background, she could hear shooting. Obviously, her threesome had arrived. "Sounds like you brought your own shooters!" "Let's settle this thing," she muttered to herself, then threw herself from her cover onto a handy flat trolley. Sliding across the room, on it, she shot, taking out several more men. She doubted, though, that any of them were Pouchie. She rolled off the trolley, and was heading for more cover, when a bullet ripped through her arm. Coming to rest behind a pillar, she gasped. Just a flesh wound, though, but she felt faint. She heard more shots, and she saw Mac and Michael. Pouchie... Pouchie was dead, on the ground. Victor and LiAnn rushed to her side. "You all right?" Victor asked, quickly checking her over. "Ahhhh... It's the end of this coat," she said, trying to make a joke of it. Victor ignored it. "She's been hit. Let's get her out of here. C'mon." Victor swung her up into his arms and started for the door. Shots were fired behind them, and she gasped when he stopped and swung around. Mac had his gun aimed at Michael. Michael was aiming at a new body, on the ground behind Mac. "It's all right," Mac said, lowering his gun. Victor was reluctant, but Mac nodded to him, so he headed through the door, then gently lowered her to the ground beside her car. Inside, Mac eyed Michael, but saw no signs of deception. Could he really have been so wrong? If so... he would make it up. "Sorry. All right? I'm sorry I didn't believe you'd changed. Sorry for... everything." It was hard to say the words. "That's okay," Michael said, breaking into a sunny smile. "Took me long enough to convince you, though." Mac shrugged. "It was a tough sell." And you know why. "I know. But it was very important that you believe me. That you trust me again." "I... do." "That's great." Michael held out his hand, and Mac reached out to grasp it. "Now you'll know..." A fist lashed out, and Mac saw stars as he went down. "Now you'll know what it feels like to be betrayed," Michael snarled, his expression changing completely. Now there was hate and lust and violence and a hundred other dark emotions. "That's great," Mac said, rubbing his jaw. This was what he got for lowering his guard, even for a moment. "First you lie to me, then you kill me." It was obviously what he planned. "Killing you is going to be my last criminal act. I win, Mac." "You kill me and you're dead. You're not going to get past LiAnn and Vic." "Well, that's a sacrifice I'm willing to make," Michael said, and Mac could see the insane light in his eyes. "But I don't have to. You see, Pouchie was worried about taking out your Director, so he had backup. This building is wired to blow in... about two minutes. That should give you enough time to really feel what betrayal is." He lifted his gun and fired at the ceiling, dropping a light fixture onto Mac, slamming him into the ground. Barely conscious, he felt Michael stroke his face. "I had other plans for you, but this is... poetic justice." Mac felt lips press against his, in a parody of a kiss. "Good-bye, Mac." Outside, Victor stood next to the Director. They'd won! He was elated, until LiAnn pointed out that Mac and Michael weren't behind them anymore. "Michael..." Victor felt his stomach drop. Oh, God. Mac! "I'll get Mac," he called, drawing his gun as he rushed back inside. "Victor," the Director called, pulling him up short. "Pouchie sometimes used a bomb as backup." "Then I better hurry," he said, grimly, then went through the door. LiAnn watched Victor disappear. How could she have been so wrong? Was Jackie right? Had her fear of being alone blinded her? A car screeched in the background, and she ran out into the open. It was Michael. As the car turned towards her, she flashed back to the last time they'd been in this position, when he'd driven into the harbor to avoid hitting her. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't hesitate this time. She emptied her gun, then turned and ran for the Mill. Behind her, she heard the car crash and explode. She didn't look back. Mac was coming back to his senses, when he saw Vic pulling the light fixture off of him. "Mac. Mac! C'mon. Get up!" "There's a bomb in here, Vic. Get out!" Please leave. Please live. "Like I'm suddenly going to start listening to you?" "How much time do we have?" Oh, no. Not LiAnn too! "Uh, by my watch.. like.. none." "Get up, get up!" Vic said pulling him upright and towards the door, LiAnn right in front of them. "Run! Run!" They ran. They were too late. The Director stared at the door, praying for the first time in years. Praying to see her three agents coming through the door. Praying that there was enough time. The building exploded. "There's never enough time," she gasped, and felt the first tears start to fall. Back At The Beginning The Director wandered around the outside of the burning building, searching. She couldn't get too close, and the bullet wound in her arm was causing her a great deal of pain, but she kept searching. She refused to believe that her three agents were dead. They were disrespectful, went behind her back, disobeyed her orders, and she was very fond of them. And despite their failings, they usually got the job done, albeit with heavy amounts of gunfire and destruction. Over to the side, she could see the burning remains of Michael's car. Michael Tang. She still couldn't believe she'd let him use her this way. Mac's distrust, she'd chalked up to the past, and suggested he get over it. She should have known better. Even though a pretty face might distract the man for a while, Mac was a good judge of character. And he had been right. She had been so intent on Pouchie, she ignored all the warning signs. It had all been for show. What he'd really been after was revenge on his former partners, revenge for their "betrayal". In the end, that revenge had cost him his life. But he had still gotten his revenge. Victor and LiAnn had rushed back into the building to find Mac, even though they knew that the place had probably been rigged to explode by the assassin she'd killed. She'd held her breath, praying to see them at the door, but the bomb had gone off, and her hopes had died. A car screeched to a halt behind her, but she ignored it. It wasn't until she was being shaken by the blonde girl that she realized that her newest agent, Jackie, had arrived on the scene. "What happened? Where are they?" The Director pointed at the building's remains. She could hear the sound of sirens in the distance. "In there. Michael left Mac in the building. Victor and LiAnn went after him. The building exploded." "And Michael?" Jackie was almost snarling. "Dead. LiAnn shot him, the car blew up." They had come around to the side of the building. The first firetrucks had roared into the parking lot, followed quickly by the police. The Director knew she was going to have to come up with a pretty damn good story to explain what had happened. "Um... Did you hear that?" The Director looked up. Jackie had a puzzled look on her face, and she cocked her head to the side. "Yeah... Over there..." There was a pile of crates near the edge of the inferno. The top crates were already on fire. Then she heard it too. A groan. Wood moving against wood as it was shifted. Quickly, they were tossing aside crates, ignoring the heat of the flames that continued to come closer. A fireman in full gear tried to get them to move away, but they refused. More hands helped shift boxes until... It was LiAnn. She was battered and bloodied and barely conscious. The hair on one side of her head was gone, leaving burns in its place. She obviously had many broken bones. There were firemen with hoses, holding off the flames while paramedics came to load her on a bodyboard, as fast as was safe. Then she was being loaded into an ambulance for the journey to the hospital. Of Victor and Mac, there was no sign. Jackie had pulled the Director into her car, and followed the ambulance to the hospital. Once there, they were pointed to the waiting room. Some time later, neither woman sure how long, a doctor came to speak to them. "Miss Tsei is in the operating room. The explosion that caused her injuries has left her with third degree burns, multiple broken bones and some internal bleeding. She's a strong woman, though, and there should be no obstacles to a full recovery. However, I do suggest the two of you go home. She won't be able to have visitors until tomorrow evening at the earliest." The Director nodded. "Like, did she say anything before going under?" Jackie asked. "She was with two guys when the place blew up, and nobody's found them yet. She might know if they got out." "Sorry, Miss. According to the paramedics, she was unconscious before they even loaded her in the ambulance. She hasn't woken up since. You'll have to wait a day or two to ask her." "'Kay." Jackie steered the Director towards the exit and her car. While they'd been waiting, a doctor had patched up the older woman. Luckily, the bullet had passed through cleanly. A couple stitches, a bandage and a painkiller and she'd been ready to go. Jackie planned to drive the Director home, then realized she had no idea where the woman lived. She glanced over at her passenger, and found her asleep. Fine. She'd take the woman to her place, and then call Dobrinsky to let him know where she was. Besides, it didn't seem like leaving the woman alone was a good idea. Jackie found it easy enough to maneuver the woman out of the car, and into the apartment. With the events of the evening and the painkillers, the woman was in a daze. Jackie knew that she had almost ignored other agent deaths in the past, taking it more as a personal affront, but this was different. No matter how much she might hide it, it was obvious that she had a soft spot for this threesome, and she blamed herself for their deaths. In the apartment, she stripped her boss and put her to bed. Then she called Dobrinsky to report. There'd been no sign of Vic or Mac, he told her. She promised to take good care of the Director, then hung up. In the bedroom, the Director was lying on her uninjured side with her eyes closed, but there was the faintest trace of tears running down her face. Jackie pulled off her own clothes and climbed into the bed. She spooned up behind the other woman, and wrapped her arms around her, careful not to jar the injured areas, and started rocking, ever so slightly. She kept rocking, pretending not to hear the sounds of tears, pretending she wasn't crying herself, until the other woman was asleep. Then she buried her face in the auburn hair and went to sleep. The next morning, they were back at the hospital. The Director was alert, and spent most of her time on the phone with Dobrinsky. Michael's bodyguard had been tracked down. He verified that Michael had been moving to make the Tangs legit, but that he had planned from the start to kill Mac and LiAnn. Angry at their "betrayal", he had worked to make them trust him, believe in him, so that when he killed them, they would feel as betrayed as he had. The man scared the agent sent to question him. He was so cold, and so angry at Michael's death... She wondered what his relationship really was with Michael. She was tempted to destroy what was left of the Tangs anyway, but decided not to. No matter what had happened, Mac and LiAnn had still felt... beholden to that family, and would not have wanted it. She ordered the man shipped back to Hong Kong, along with anyone else from the family, with a warning that if they ever showed their faces on the North American continent again, she would destroy them. Cheerfully. With great violence. The news from the bomb site was less promising. No sign had been found of either of the men, but the fires had burned so hot that the chances of finding any traces of them, if they had still been inside the building, were nil. So they waited, and paced, outside of LiAnn's hospital room. The young woman had survived surgery. The bleeding had been stopped, the bones had been set, the burns had been treated. She was going to be a long time recovering, but she would recover. It was late in the afternoon before the Director was finally allowed to see her agent. LiAnn was still unconscious, hooked to monitors, and covered with bandages. She hunted, and finally found an undamaged patch of skin to stroke. "Shhh," she crooned as LiAnn's eyelids twitched. "Sleep. It's all right. You're going to be just fine." LiAnn sighed, then slipped into a deeper sleep. The Director stayed there for a few moments, watching her breathe. Then she headed for the door. Outside, in the hallway, she found Jackie and Dobrinsky talking. Dobrinsky's expression was unreadable. "Well," she asked. "Anything new?" "Maybe," he said, hesitance in his voice. "On a... hunch... I checked the guys' getaway funds." "Getaway funds?" Jackie asked in confusion. The Director explained. "Both the boys kept rather large sums of money in several locations they didn't think the Agency knew about, along with fake papers and passports. In case they ever decided to try to leave. And?" "Cleaned out." "Which means they must be alive!" Jackie said, brightly. "Or," the Director replied, unwilling to raise hopes. "Or, someone else found the money and took it. One of the Tang members, perhaps. Or an Agency person who decided that since Mac and Victor were dead, the money was fair game." "But what if it was them?" The Director sighed, and leaned back against the wall. "Then they've decided to leave. We could check the airports, train stations and bus stations..." "But," Dobrinsky said, already knowing what the answer would be. "But, if this is what they want... I'm not going to stand in their way. I nearly got them killed last night. It wasn't Agency business, it was personal. I threw Mac and Michael together, and that almost got them both killed. If they've decide to leave..." She shut her eyes. "If they've decided to leave, I'm not going to stop them. Dobrinsky, go back to base. Erase all traces of them from Agency records. Use my 'worm' program on the Agency computers to make sure that no one can track them." "The other directors won't like that." "Tough. I'm making this call. It'll be on my head." Dobrinsky nodded, then headed for the door. The Director and Jackie headed for the waiting room again. "Do you think they're alive? I mean, that was one hell of an explosion." "I don't know. I'd like to think so." Somewhere over the Atlantic, on a plane bound for Paris, two men sit. They were lucky to get on a flight, this close to Christmas. Victor was asleep, but Mac couldn't help replaying the last twenty-four hours over and over again in his head. They'd been damned lucky. The explosion had thrown them off their feet, and into oblivion. When they'd woken, they'd found themselves on the other side of a pile of crates. Thirty feet away, they saw the Director and Jackie dig LiAnn out from under another pile of crates, tossed by the explosion. Watched while their partner was loaded into an ambulance. Watched, but made no noise. They'd headed away from the burning building after the ambulance had left, followed by the two women in Jackie's car. Both were still stunned, but were relatively unharmed. A twisted knee, scrapes, bruises and a few minor burns. A lump on Mac's head caused by Michael. Compared to what they had seen of LiAnn, they were in great condition. A couple blocks away, they found a spot to sit down. "We should have said something," Vic said. "Yeah." "But we didn't." "Yeah." "Why?" "I'm not sure." "I guess we should find a phone." "Why?" "To let them know we're okay, of course." "Why?" Mac asked, thinking fast. "Think about it, Vic. For the last couple of years, we've been at the beck and call of the Agency. Neither of us is happy with the job anymore, if we ever were. I don't know about you, but I want out, and this is the perfect chance. I've got money and papers stashed away. Enough to get anywhere in the world and set up a new identity. Support a person for a year. If we let them think we're dead..." "A new life. Together?" "Together." Mac reached out and grabbed onto Victor's hand. "A new life, free of the past. What happened tonight was the last closure I needed for my old life. The entire time I've been with the Agency, it's hung over my head. It was part of how they kept a hold of me, what happened with the Tangs. Now it's over. Now I can start over. Be who I want to be. And I want you to come with me." He waited, watching the other man's face. There was nothing there that he could read. Finally, Victor opened his eyes and smiled. "So, where do we go?" Mac started grinning. He couldn't have stopped, even if he wanted to. "Well, I've never been to Paris. The Tangs operated in Europe, but they're gone, and the Agency kept us in North America." "Great. We'll grab your getaway stash, then mine." "Yours...?" "Of course. You're not the only one thinking of the future, you know." Mac started laughing. He stood up, then pulled Victor to his feet. If Vic was anything like him, there would also be a suitcase full of clothing and personal items in his stash, so they wouldn't have to go buy new clothes or risk going back to their apartments. They'd still be leaving a lot behind, but it was going to be worth it. "Mac?" "Yeah?" "What the hell are we going to do in Europe? After all, we're going to have to support ourselves." "Let's see. You'd do great in the cabaret clubs with your strip act. Or as a masseuse." Vic snorted. "Seriously, Mac." "Well... we did a great job with the Rivers, didn't we?" "What, you mean... become thieves?" "Why not? Hell, we could target criminals. Clean out their safes, keep the valuables and send evidence of wrong-doing to Interpol or something." Vic smiled at the thought. "Sort of a cross between Raffles and Robin Hood. Well, it's something to think about when we get there. C'mon, gorgeous. Let's get going." Victor leaned on Mac's shoulder, and they limped down the alley, making plans as they went. Mac smiled at his sleeping partner. They'd showered at the Y, and changed into fresh clothes before heading for the airport. Cash bribes had gotten them onto a plane to Paris that had some last minute cancellations. Soon, they would be announcing their landing in Paris, and they would begin their new lives. Set up their new identities. Maybe work for a while as bodyguards. Being good thieves required a lot of expensive equipment. Besides, he needed to spend some time training Vic. Safe cracking. Alarm systems. That sort of stuff. It was a big break. Mac knew he'd miss LiAnn. Hell, he might even miss the others. Jackie. Dobrinsky. Even the Director and the Cleaners. Vic, being Vic, would continue to worry about his sister, but they'd keep a discreet eye on her. Maybe, someday, they'd even be able to contact her. Certainly, they'd do just about anything to keep her from being recruited by the Agency. The only thing that really worried Mac was the Agency, itself. They didn't seem like the sort of outfit that let people quit. Leave because they were nuts, or disabled, maybe, but they still controlled them. But two able-bodied agents? Mac knew they'd both be watching their backs for a looong time to come. It was still worth it. Strangely enough, he had a song running through his head. Cher. Not his type of music, but she had a great voice. Spent a lifetime, finally found someone Gave him all that I had In love, 'til the dream was gone I was losing myself Out in the darkness, alone But the night made me strong, and I learned to let go Time mends the heart, you turn the page, somehow There's no looking back, the hurtin's behind you now Starting over again, on a second time around Coming back to win Starting over again, take the first step Let it begin, starting over Okay, so what if she'd been singing about starting over after a relationship breaks up. The lyrics still fit their situation to a "T". The Captain's voice came over the intercom, and Victor stirred. It was time. Time to start over, back at the beginning. Together. THE END of Drowning Sorrows Book II: Always a Thief lburwell@adan.kingston.net

February 1998 lburwell@adan.kingston.net For those unfamiliar with my series, Drowning Sorrows builds around the series John Woo's Once a Thief, and the growing relationship between Victor Mansfield and Mac Ramsey. At the end of the TV series, they were apparently killed in an explosion. In my world, they took the chance to leave the country, heading for Europe, where they made a life for themselves as security experts... and thieves. Always a Thief picks up three years later, when trouble inside the Agency forces the Director to call them in for help, finally admitting that she knew they were still alive. Also drawn in to the trouble is Klaus von dem Eberbach, formerly a Major in NATO Intelligence, now in Interpol. People familiar with the japanese comic (manga) series 'From Eroica With Love' will recognize Klaus. Revenge of the Bolsheviks is the newest book in the Drowning Sorrows series. A mysterious organization kidnaps Mac and the Earl Dorian Red Gloria (also known as the thief Eroica). What are they up to? Starts about six months after the end of Always A Thief. There is also a couple of side stories that falls between Drowning Sorrows and Always a Thief, and I'm sure that there will be more to come. back to top

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