Ethan froze, then slowly looked up to meet his gaze. “Pardon?”

Just as shocked, Jack swallowed hard and repeated, “Live with me.” Saying it intentionally only solidified it in his heart. “Move into my place. Don’t just come for a visit. Come forever.”

White eyes bored into him for a moment longer, then Ethan shoved away from the table, grabbed up the half-empty mugs and went into the kitchen. Tired of tiptoeing around Ethan’s issues, Jack followed. In the narrow space, Ethan tried to evade him, but was quickly caught against the solid front of the fridge. A full body press to stop him from getting leverage, arms held tight to his sides.

“Don’t,” Ethan ground out, struggling against Jack’s weight.

“Don’t what?” Jack tried hard to not get angry. “You told me not that long ago I couldn’t ask you to not care for me. Well, Ethan, this is me caring for you. A lot. So much so I can’t keep doing what we’ve been doing all these months. This stop and start thing we have isn’t a relationship. I don’t want to be constantly wondering if you’re ever coming back when you leave. I don’t want to only see you for a couple of days every now and then. I want more. I need more.”

“Why?” It came out as a hiss. “I don’t understand why you would want me that close to you.” He redoubled his efforts to get free.

Rather than have Ethan hurt himself, Jack let him go. Ethan rocketed away and was halfway across the house before he stopped. At least he was still inside this time, standing next to the piano, shoulders stiff, hands clenched at his sides. Head bowed, chest hitching as he struggled to breathe, or to not scream, and completely weapon-less. For the first time, Ethan Blade looked vulnerable.

Recalling Ethan say “Me,” when Jack asked him what was wrong, and how pursuing the subject had sent Ethan into a full retreat, Jack went as far as the table. He wanted to be closer but feared pushing him further away.

“You know why I want you with me,” he said evenly. “All those reasons I gave you right at the start of our little agreement, plus everything that’s happened since then. Including today. It’s because I trust you and I think I—”

Ethan cut him off with a sharp gesture. “Tom trusted me, and I hurt him, Jack.”

“Jesus, Ethan. He trusts you still. Tom knows you didn’t mean to hurt him. That it was a—”

“It wasn’t a mistake.” His voice rose to drown out Jack’s. “I had a knife and I meant to kill. I would have if you hadn’t stopped—”

“We all have knives.” Anger bubbling up again, Jack shouted over him. “All of us! That’s all any of us are. We’re just a bunch of knives waiting to cut anyone who gets too close. Our insecurities. Our weaknesses, prejudices, arrogance. Everything that makes us who we are is a knife you can use to hurt someone else. God fucking knows I’ve hurt everyone around me. Family, friends, lovers. You. And they’ve hurt me. Stabbed me in the fucking heart.” His voice broke on the last word and he realised how loud he’d been. Realised he had tears building. Taking a deep breath, he wiped them away with the back of one hand. “But that’s what being close to someone means. You accept the risk of being hurt, of causing the pain. And you learn together how not to hurt each other. That is why I want you with me. Because I know you don’t want to hurt me. Or Tom. Or anyone else.”

Ethan grunted sourly.

“Yeah, okay,” Jack agreed, anger conceding to wry sarcasm. “Anyone who doesn’t deserve it.”

Eyes closing, Ethan tipped his head back and took several deep breaths. “Jack, I understand what you’re saying, but I don’t—”

“Mr. Saint!”

They both spun to see Tom clattering down the stairs from the loft. He was in a flat panic, eyes wide, arms flailing. He missed the bottom step and crashed heavily to the floor. Before Jack got more than two steps towards him, he was up and lunging for the kitchen counter. And the shield remote.

“Mr. Saint,” he gasped as the shields clanked and started rising. “They’re here!”

In the seconds it took Jack to turn back to the window, he heard it. The pounding of the rain on the roof had morphed into an all too familiar thumping. Caught up in the argument, he had failed to notice the changes outside the house. Ethan was just as surprised, gaping at the view through the huge window.

Perfectly framed against the grey clouds, a black chopper swept past their position. It was an old Huey fitted with side-mounted guns. This wasn’t a sightseeing tour. It had to be Khun Sein, looking for his mercenaries or just making sure the job was done.

Tom sprinted right past Jack and threw himself at Ethan’s back. Arms around his waist, Tom tucked his face into Ethan’s spine as if the man could protect him from anything.

Including an aerial assault.

“Get the shields down,” Ethan shouted as the chopper swung around and hovered right outside the window.

All of Jack’s lingering anger crystallised in an instant. All the pain he’d seen, that he’d felt, in Ethan over hurting Tom, over believing he wasn’t good enough for Jack, that he wasn’t a good person, honed his anger into a single point. A point he focused on the bastards responsible for the most immediate hurt.

As the chopper settled into position, Jack grabbed the RPG-7 launcher, slammed the warhead home and lifted it to his shoulder.

The guns on the sides of the chopper spat bullets and Ethan twisted, taking Tom to the floor, covering him with his own body. Glass crazing with repeated impacts, Jack aimed and, as the window shattered inwards, pressed the firing trigger. The small warhead whooshed through the house, out over the balcony and right into the nose of the chopper.

The explosion blew the last shards of glass out of the wall, superheated air rolling into the house. Jack dropped the launcher and hit the deck.

Silence came fast and eerily. Slowly, Jack uncovered his head and peered out. The airspace in front of the house was clear of the enemy. Just clouds and a thin trail of smoke curling upwards, quickly getting lost in the grey sky.

“Jack?”

“I’m good. You?”

Ethan stood, a shower of glass falling from his back. He nodded at Jack as he helped Tom to his feet. Swiftly, Ethan searched the boy for injuries. Tom swayed, and Ethan caught his shoulders, holding him steady. He spoke in soft Vietnamese. Big eyes focused on Ethan, Tom nodded bravely.

Not wanting anymore surprises, Jack found the remote—blown into the kitchen sink by the blast—and closed the shields. That done, he took stock of himself. Nothing serious, or even bigger than some small cuts from flying glass, and his hands weren’t trembling too bad. Ethan approached, Tom trailing close behind. Wordlessly, Jack checked Ethan over thoroughly and finding no more than a few abrasions, pulled him into a hard embrace.

Ethan didn’t hesitate. His arms closed around Jack with equal strength, his face smashing into Jack’s shoulder.

After a long, soothing moment, Jack felt a tug on his shirt. Opening his eyes, he found Tom frowning up at him. Very seriously, Tom admonished him in Vietnamese, smacking his arm to emphasise his point, whatever it was. Against his neck, Ethan chuckled, the sound a little hysterical.

“What did he say?” Jack demanded.

Lifting his head, Ethan’s smile was shy. “He wants to know why you aren’t kissing me.”

Blushing fiercely, Jack floundered. Tom rolled his eyes, gave him another smack, and stalked away.

Tom fell into an exhausted sleep not long later and Ethan tucked him into the unused couch-bed. Neither he nor Jack slept during the rest of the night. They tidied up as best they could, and Jack had to spend a couple of hours talking to Director Tan, reporting the hostile activity within his proximity. Tan didn’t indicate his personal feelings on the events, just drily commented on the situation with Khun Sein—it had been his chopper and from the intelligence they’d gathered over the past day, the drug lord had been on board—and instructed Jack to leave the immediate area as quickly as possible and let the chips fall as they may.

“It’ll be interesting,” was all he said, when Jack asked Tan why.

Ethan agreed with Tan about Jack leaving.

“There’s a smoking hulk sitting in the valley below us and ten bodies out in that jungle.” Jack followed Ethan upstairs. “You can’t take care of that on your own.”

“I won’t have to.” Ethan opened the wardrobe and began removing Jack’s gear.

Not wanting to argue so soon after making up, Jack took a moment to modulate his response. “Your associates?”

“Yes.”

“Like the one who owns this place and knew we were here?” Jack threw himself onto the bed, quite ready to sulk.

Ethan stopped folding Jack’s clothes and sat down beside him. “It wasn’t her, Jack. She would never . . . hurt me like that.”

Jack pulled him down so they were lying together, Ethan’s head on his chest. “Tan thinks it was the smugglers I hitched a ride here with. I was careful, but you never know.”

Ethan sighed. “Either way, I’m going to have a lot of explaining to do. Oh, blast!” He shot out of Jack’s hold and off the bed. “The horses!”

Smiling at his hastily disappearing back, Jack got up and finished packing, resigned to the fact he had to leave. Ethan and Tan were right. If he stayed, his presence would only complicate matters.

The horses were jittery but otherwise okay and when dawn came, they saddled them and headed out. Tom rode double with Jack and Ethan lead the way, Eagle’s at the ready, guiding Smith with his knees. The journey to the road was uneventful and they found Tom’s Jeep where he’d left it near the washout. Alongside it was another 4WD which had carried the mercs who hadn’t fit in the Jeep. Ethan gave the Jeep a complete going over before pronouncing it secure. Tom insisted on giving it another check, though.

“He’ll be okay,” Jack assured Ethan as they watched over the boy. “I’ll make sure he gets home. And I’ve asked Tan to have one of our people check on him, see if he needs help dealing with any of it.”

“Thank you, Jack.” There was still pain in his voice, but there was acceptance as well.

Wanting to hold him but knowing it wouldn’t be allowed while they weren’t one hundred percent secure, Jack settled for saying, “You’ll be okay, too, you know. You’re a good man, Ethan. You wouldn’t care about Tom the way you do if you weren’t. Or me.”

Once again hidden behind his sunglasses, Ethan nodded. Then he was hugging Jack.

Startled, it took Jack a moment to respond, but he did, pulling him close and feeling the urge to do silly things again.

“Yes,” Ethan whispered.

“Yes, what? Yes, you’ll be okay? Yes, you care for me?”

Ethan huffed. “Yes to all that. And yes, I’ll come to Sydney. Not for a visit, but for good.”

Jack’s chest grenade went off with a deafening boom. He hadn’t forgotten his impulsive offer, but he hadn’t mentioned it again for fear of scaring Ethan away. Arms tightening, he managed, “When?”

Laugh muffled in Jack’s neck, Ethan said, “When I’ve finished cleaning up here.”

“I need a definite time frame, Blade. Have to know when to get the place clean.”

Ethan pulled back enough to look at him and smiled. “I don’t know yet. A couple of weeks, perhaps a month.” The smile melted into a serious expression. “I don’t think we should be in contact during that time. I have to find out what happened here and it may be best for all concerned if it appears we’re not together.”

As much as he wanted to protest, Jack agreed. “So, I’m just going to come home from work one day and find you in my apartment? Maybe wearing a ribbon?”

Cheeks flaming, Ethan hid his face against Jack’s shoulder.

“Mr. Saint! Mr. Reed!” Tom tapped the steering wheel impatiently. “No time for hanky-panky. Let’s go!”

Sighing, Jack grumbled, “I better go before he leaves me here.”

Ethan smiled. “See you soon.”

“I better.”