Chapter Twelve

Ethan

The day was eerily morbid and the sky seemed to be dimmer and greyer than normal. Considering it was the day of Grant Jefferson’s long-overdue funeral, this wasn’t a huge surprise. I could practically hear his daughter sobbing from her bedroom next door.

However, the stifling, pessimistic energy and mood that I was experiencing had nothing to do with the death of Grant. I had barely thought of him, if I was being honest. Yet the weight of this damned day was bearing on my shoulders, as if someone had placed heavy blocks on them and told me to stand still for five hours. It was torturous and unwavering, the worrying.

I knew that I was probably over-thinking the day that lay ahead and this was the reason for my horrible mood. I was imagining a vast array of brutal scenarios that all ended with Michael Taylor or one of his gang showing up and Harry lying dead on the ground.

Who would be amongst the crowds of people here to send Grant off? Would someone be there to send more than just Grant into the cold ground? I had pictured Harry dying in my dreams all night – to say I was on edge would be a severe understatement.

I swear, I never used to be a pessimist. I was always a realist. I was always the one to pull Harry back to reality whenever his thoughts drifted beyond the grasps of reason. Now, it was Harry who was doing the pulling. I couldn’t think very straight these days. Especially considering what Harry had told me the day before.

My fists automatically clenched at this thought, crumbling the piece of toast I had in my hand. The physical reaction I had to those who harmed Harry honestly scared me. I was like a crazed animal, ready to pounce.

I didn’t realize I was crushing my breakfast until Harry reached across the kitchen table and placed his hand gently over mine. I brought my eyes to his, my lips quivering slightly. I had never been so emotional in my life and it was unnerving me. It unnerved me how much I wanted to kill Dawson and Michael Taylor. It unnerved me that my love for someone could control my every emotion this much.

“Today will be fine – don’t worry about it,” Harry said coolly, biting into his apple. He was looking extremely dapper in his black Armani suit and black skinny tie. He’d even found the time to comb his hair. He was looking so put together and in control.

And it was killing me. It was killing me because there were only two scenarios in which I truly believed Harry could be this calm when I was such a bundle of nerves and ferocity.

The first was that he was one-hundred percent sure that no matter what, he would overcome his father and win any battle thrown at us. That he had no doubt in his mind that we would not come to any harm and he had enough faith in our abilities to win this fight.

The second scenario, the one in which the realist in me was leaning towards, was what made me sick to my stomach. This ending wouldn’t contain the words ‘happily ever after’. It would contain the words ‘rest in peace’, if I was going by my gut. I believed that Harry had already given up. That he wasn’t going to try and fight his father and believed he was already doomed.

I was sure he didn’t even realise this himself – he was so hell-bent on taking his father down, did he even stop to think of the practicalities? Say, his own safety?

After our talk yesterday I hadn’t really had the strength or the mindset to question him on his motives. I had assumed that we would discuss them together. But Harry insisted that everything would be ‘fine’. He wasn’t even afraid anymore.

Whether Harry knew it or not, he wasn’t fighting for his safety anymore. He was set on revenge. I could see it in his eyes whenever he spoke. He felt no mercy or justice. He wanted to rip his father’s heart right from his chest, no matter the consequences.

“Can we go for a quick walk around before the funeral? I just want to suss the place out,” I asked Harry with a meaningful look. We had both slept in the same bed last night, me holding Harry close to me. I didn’t care what it looked like anymore on the cameras. I had never cared, really.

I just wanted to keep him near me – to keep him safe in my arms. And the fact that this control could be taken away from me was scaring me out of my mind. And I never got scared.

“I don’t think we have time,” Harry replied gently with a smile, taking our breakfast plates and putting them in the sink, “We can go for a walk afterwards, though. There’s plenty of time then.”

He was telling me that I was overreacting. That I was just assuming we would be attacked today – that this idea was ludicrous.

Grant Jefferson had worked closely with Michael Taylor, it seemed. We couldn’t know how close the two of them truly had been. Yes, when Harry overheard Hugh’s conversation with Grant on the night of his club opening it seemed that Grant was being threatened to pay.

But we couldn’t eliminate the possibility of Michael or one of his savage friends to turn up and ‘pay their respects’. What if Grant had killed himself because of their threats? Would they turn up to showcase themselves as not to be messed with?

My mind was buzzing and I couldn’t stop these thoughts from entering and leaving my head as erratically as a bee stuck in a spider’s web.

I stood from the table and felt numb. Numb from the tirade and waves of fear and worry that were rushing throughout my body.

When Harry started putting on his black trench coat to get ready to leave, I felt like I was going to vomit. He had a gun hidden somewhere – I had checked his box of weapons that he hid in the house. There were two of his handguns missing.

Whatever he said, I knew he didn’t believe that everything would be okay today. He had a plan and he wasn’t telling me. When I woke this morning after a restless, nightmare filled sleep, he was already up and on his private phone that the agency hadn’t tapped, texting someone.

He had brushed it off but now that I was thinking about it, I was strategically placing together a hypothesis that Harry Taylor had concocted a plan without telling me. And I knew why – the second he’d heard Hugh tell us that Michael was also out for my blood, I saw his eyes. He felt the same way about me as I did about him – he would do anything to put himself before me in the firing line.

When we were walking to the car, my entire body shaky and a cold sweat on my brow, I suddenly grabbed Harry’s hand and kept walking past the car and out the front gates.

“Wha – Ethan, stop! What are you doing? We’re going to be late!” he tried smacking my hand away but it was futile – I was always the stronger one.

I pulled him across the road and around the corner past Harvey and Jennifer’s mansion where huge sycamore trees shielded us from public view.

“What are you up to?” I accused him, letting him go roughly. I was so worked up and angry – angry with the situation and angry with him for doing this to me.

He dropped his eyes from mine momentarily, a tell-tale sign that he was lying. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ethan. For fuck’s sake we’re going to a funeral, not war!”

He went to walk away back towards our house but I blocked his path.

“You tell me what you’re up to right now Harry, or I swear I’ll knock you out right here and you won’t be going anywhere.”

I wasn’t lying. I was known for my knockout punches and if saving Harry’s life meant I had to knock him out, I wouldn’t think twice.

“Ethan, what’s gotten into you? You’re so paranoid. Nobody is going to attack us at a fucking funeral! They could come for us in the middle of the night when there aren’t hundreds of people surrounding us just as easily!” he tried to reason with me. But whenever my gut told me something, I went by it. And it was telling me that something big was going to happen today.

“Why do you have handguns on you, so?” I threw at him, raising my eyebrows accusingly.

He looked stumped and guilty for a second until his eyes grew accusatory too. “You went through my stuff? Jesus Christ, you’re like my fucking father! Privacy is a privilege, it seems!” he huffed.

“Tell me why you’re armed if we’re ‘only going to a funeral’,” I asked again, edging closer to him.

There was a silence and he uncrossed his arms, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Because I always carry a gun these days. I have a bullseye on my head and I’m not going to go down without a fight. If you had done your snooping properly, you would have realised that I’ve had these on me since the day after Lawman told us.”

He was speaking matter-of-factly and not acting the way someone would who felt the need to carry weapons on them for their own protection 24/7.

“Now, can we stop this fucking arguing and just go?” he reached over and took my hand in his. I was staring at the ground, my jaw jutted out stubbornly. I didn’t want to accept the fact that he was so okay with carrying guns around with him constantly in case his father returned to murder him. That sentence alone would give a normal person chills.

“Look at me,” he said gently, squeezing my hand. I was snapped out of my thoughts and brought my sad, tired eyes to his. He let a slow breath out when he saw my expression, biting his lip in what seemed to be worry.

“It’ll all be okay,” I whispered, saying it out loud to try and convince myself more than anything. I still had that feeling in my gut, though...

“Damn straight. Nobody is killing us – not today,” Harry smiled, pulling me in for an unexpected hug. I hesitated but then wrapped my arms around him tightly, trying to absorb something of his strength. I had never felt unprepared in my life – our lives had been threatened countless times but never had I felt so helpless.

I was lost once again in those erratic thoughts of mine when Harry moved his head from where it was tucked into my shoulder, placing his cheek against mine. I froze and all thoughts ceased. I could tell he was contemplating what to do. After a few seconds he moved his head again, this time until our noses were bumping off one another softly.

I brought my eyes up to his – they were full of conflicting emotions. I could tell he was trying to shut the past out and just focus on the now. I waited for him to make the next move, dropping my eyes to his full lips. I thought back to the night of Hugh’s club opening and how they had felt against mine.

I brought my eyes up to his, only to see his were focused on my lips too. I bit my bottom lip, unsure what to do next. I didn’t have to wait much longer though, because the instant I bit my lip, Harry lunged his head forward, connecting our lips.

We were motionless for a few seconds, savouring the sweetness of the kiss and keeping our urges at bay. It wasn’t long before I couldn’t hold back and began moving my lips against his, dropping tiny kisses along the edges of his mouth as he dug his nails into my back.

He let a tiny groan slip from his mouth and this enticed me to kiss him harder, my hands now sliding from his soft hair to his neck. I didn’t know how this had happened... how had we gone from arguing to this?

“Boys! I know you are two fine young men with hormones and I’m all for a bit of jiggy jiggy, but today is slightly morbid, don’t you think?” the laughing voice of Jennifer resulted in Harry and I jumping away from each other, our eyes wide and cheeks slightly red.

Jennifer and Harvey were standing mere meters away from us. The large stone wall concealing their house was to our right. They must have been leaving their house to go to the funeral when they spotted us. Thank God it was them who spotted us and nobody else... Audrey Jefferson would not appreciate our behaviour on a day like this, I imagined.

Shuffling towards them awkwardly, Harvey and Jennifer were still in hysterics laughing at us when we reached them. Harry looked slightly dazed and his hair was extremely messy. So much for combing it today. I looked to Harry from the corner of my eye and saw his jaw was slightly rigid. I wanted to know what was going on in that head of his.

“Oh, shut up you two! Can you blame me? I mean, look at him,” Harry teased, putting his arm around Jennifer as we walked back towards our house. “Why don’t you two ride with us? I mean, there really is no point in two separate cars going to the church... Traffic and parking will be fucking bananas!”

In the end, Harry persuaded Harvey and Jennifer to carpool with us. I barely spoke as we all piled into the car, the Collins’ insisting that Harry take his ‘rightful place’ in the front seat next to me. He was avoiding talking to me. I felt my heart take an all-too-familiar pang of hurt as I drove.

The tension between Harry and I combined with the nerves I was facing on attending this funeral had left me slightly out of it when we arrived. I barely looked at anyone and when entering the church I almost bumped into three people.

“Let’s sit in the middle,” I muttered as Harry went to sit in a back row of the church. He shot me an exasperated look but walked on towards the middle. We were less likely to be ambushed if we were in the middle of the establishment.

Jennifer and Harvey spotted old friends of theirs on the other side of the church and flitted off to say a ‘quick hello’ to them. I imagined a ‘quick hello’ to them would be considered an overly-long conversation to me.

The tension between Harry and I became more prominent when we sat down, our eyes directed towards the Alter where a table was cleared to place Grant’s coffin on arrival. I glanced at Harry quickly and saw him quickly move his eyes away from me.

“Are we going to talk about what happened or ignore it? Just so I know,” I leaned over and whispered, trying not to be too snappy with him. I had to understand how conflicted he must be feeling. I had to be sympathetic. But it was extremely hard to be understanding when I was so in love with him. Some would argue that this should be the very reason as to why I should be understanding.

But try living with someone for almost a decade, swallowing your feelings on a daily basis. Then, being sent on a mission to be their ‘pretend husband’, only to suspect they may have feelings for you too. Then get messed about and not understand why you were being rejected when you were so sure that they loved you too. Finally, you settle on keeping them in your life as a friend, even though you were so sure they had loved you too. Only to be told in a roundabout way that they did love you, but their psycho father had tortured them into such a mental state that the thought of loving a man brought back horrific memories and associations that it was too much to bear.

And then they kiss you the following day. A kiss with so much passion you forgot where you were. And then they ignored you again.

Trust me – I was doing my best with the situation.

“No, of course we won’t ignore it... I just... I just need to think. I need to try and work through my own fucking head,” he muttered, wringing his fingers, “And this isn’t the right place, either to discuss this... Keep it in your pants, Moore,” he teased, bringing his eyes to mine and smiling.

I could tell he was trying. I could tell how cut up inside he was feeling and I knew that making a joke of the situation was the first step in the right direction for him.

“Okay,” I replied, reaching over and placing my hand over his, stopping his fidgeting.

He didn’t react and I looked forward again, leaving my hand in his. I could see him smile out of the corner of my eye, though.

The ceremony was long and drawn-out. Grant was painted as a saint who did no wrong and Audrey and their two kids all gave speeches. It was a sad affair, don’t get me wrong. I just wasn’t particularly moved. Also, I was on edge, waiting for a gun to pointed towards by some mourner who was here to kill us on orders from Michael Taylor. Or Michael Taylor himself...

I breathed a sigh of relief when the ceremony ended and the coffin, which had been carried in on the shoulders of Grant’s loved ones, was carried back out and into the hearse. We were all to attend the graveyard burial which was located ten minutes away from here.

I had kept my hand in Harry’s for the entire service.

On the drive to the graveyard, Jennifer and Harvey chatted nonstop about how ‘touching’ it had been. They had stayed sitting with their other friends throughout the ceremony. Harry, to humour them, spoke dramatically of how he had choked up during the speeches given by his family.

He had choked up alright – choked up with laughter.

When Audrey took to the stand to begin her speech she accidentally tripped over her own feet and had to grab onto the pedestal with the microphone to steady herself. Harry’s shoulders were shaking the entire time she spoke after that – he had to hide his face and pretend he was shaking with grief.

It was typical at him to crack up at something so immature at such an inappropriate time. I had to admit, seeing him like that brought a smile to my face. A smile I had to quickly hide because it would look slightly strange for others to see me smiling like an idiot when a new widow spoke of her husband who had just committed suicide.

The burial was probably the hardest thing to watch – purely because of his two children who were in their teens and in despair. They broke down crying when the coffin was being eased into the earth and even Harry had gripped my hand during this.

I was still on edge, watching everyone carefully who came near us or keeping my eyes open for anyone who looked shady. They had kept a picture of Harry’s father on file back in the agency – the photo had been taken when he was being led by police to prison after his sentencing. I would recognise that ugly, cowardly face anywhere and I had my eyes peeled.

There was no sign of him, though. And everyone seemed to be keeping to themselves. Maybe my gut had been wrong after all... Maybe today wouldn’t be as monumental as I’d anticipated.

“Ladies and gentlemen, could I get silence for a moment?” the priest who had done the ceremony was standing at the edge of the grave, which had now been temporarily covered with a wooden slate and the flowers received by the family placed over it.

Everyone quietened. We were all stood in clusters of groups around the grave. This was normal practice, I assumed. I hadn’t been to many funerals.

The priest motioned for Audrey to step forward, bringing all eyes on her. She looked paler than she had in the church and her bottom lip was trembling.

“I – I just want to introduce a man who has travelled a long way for this day and who would like to say a few words on behalf of those who loved Grant the most but couldn’t make it.” I frowned. This certainly didn’t seem like a common thing to happen at a funeral... a guest make a speech at the graveside?

Also, Audrey didn’t just look like a grieving widow anymore. There was something else – she looked absolutely petrified. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear. I could distinguish the emotion easily from my years of behavioural studies. Also, I’d put that look in people’s eyes many times.

There were whispers amongst the crowd as Audrey stepped back and we waited to see who this mystery guest was. I guessed he wasn’t a particularly nice man, judging by Audrey’s face and the fact he felt the need to make a speech at a fucking funeral! Everyone seemed confused by this.

“This is fucking weird,” Harry muttered, his fingers skimming off mine. We had dropped hands once the small crowd started aligning into groups after the burial. I wondered if he felt the coldness of the non-contact between us too?

“I know,” I whispered, looking at him, “Who the fuck makes a speech at a funeral? Plus, did you see Audrey’s – ” I didn’t get a chance to continue as people started shushing. I assumed this guy had taken his place in the limelight.

I left my eyes on Harry’s for a few seconds more, not really caring who was talking anymore. He was keeping his eyes on mine too and I reached over to take his hand once again. He smiled gently, dropping his gaze to look at our intertwined fingers.

It was with his dropped gaze that I started paying attention to the guy speaking next to Audrey and the kids. I didn’t have to look away from Harry to know who was talking, though.

The voice cut through me like that bullet had when I dove in front of Harry years ago – that was less painful, though.

I snapped my eyes away from Harry who had resumed his gaze with me. His eyes weren’t enough to distract me now, however.

The tall, blonde man who seemed to have just arrived at the graveyard from the airport judging by the suitcase stood next to him had captivated my every nerve. My throat started closing up and I quickly dropped Harry’s hand, ready to bolt.

I couldn’t leave, though. We were in the middle of the crowd and walking away now would draw suspicion to me. That was the one thing we needed to avoid in an undercover operation.

I couldn’t peel my eyes away from the tall, muscular man speaking by the graveside. His thick Australian accent hadn’t changed one bit. Every word pained me to hear.

I could feel Harry’s confused, worried eyes on me as a quick sweat broke out across my forehead. I was sure I was as white as a sheet. I mean, that was the normal reaction, wasn’t it? To seeing a ghost?

Because that was what I was seeing right now – a ghost. A ghost who supposedly died a decade ago in a car-crash.

“You okay?” Harry whispered softly to me, retaking my hand in his and squeezing it. It offered me little comfort – I was freaking out. I just needed to leave. I needed to stop hearing his voice and stop seeing his face.

“N-no,” I stammered quietly, my gaze unwavering from the man who was still in the middle of a speech about what a good man Grant was.

Harry said something else but I didn’t process it. My mind was on shut-down. How was he alive?

Tom Palmer, my boyfriend from high-school who had died in a car-crash was standing next to a still petrified looking Audrey, making a fucking speech. And no, I wasn’t taking the news well. My gut was always right – something monumental had happened.

“Anyway, I won’t keep you guys any longer – I know how difficult this day is,” Tom said sympathetically, reaching over and patting Audrey’s shoulder in what was meant to be comfortingly – she cringed away from his hand. “I just want to say that Grant, Michael Taylor and all the crew are having a drinking on you today. Sleep well, my friend.”

There was no round of applause. Audrey had burst into tears again once he’d finished the speech and he just stood there, looking uncomfortable. He didn’t want to be there – I could tell by his stance. I still knew his tell-tale signs. I felt my stomach churn at this thought.

I wanted to so badly run up to him and punch his stupid face in. Then ask what the fuck had happened all those years ago. And then beat the crap out of him again. But I couldn’t.

Because we were undercover. And my name was Rob, not Ethan. It killed me to walk away – but I had to. I had to forget I’d seen him... for now.

“Let’s get out of here,” I said to Harry who still looked concerned. “I’ll explain later,” I added hastily when he opened his mouth to question me.

I excused our way through the crowd, trying to keep my head ducked as we walked. I had to make sure Tom didn’t spot me. He would blow my cover and that would fuck up this entire mission.

“Nate! Rob! Where are you two off to?” A loud, shrill voice carried across the entire graveyard as Harry and I headed towards the exit gate. Oh God no... Please, Jennifer, just leave it. Let us leave.

Then I remembered we had driven them here... we had to drive them home, too.

“Go and tell Jennifer and Harvey that we’re leaving right now, with or without them... say it’s a business emergency or something. I’ll wait in the car. Be fast,” I instructed Harry. He nodded and didn’t question me. That was why I loved him – his trust in me was unwavering.

Before Harry could leave my side, though, Jennifer was calling us again. That woman needed to fucking realise that we were in a graveyard and needed to shut the fuck up! She was unknowingly about to ruin everything.

People started looking in our direction as her and Harvey made their way through the people, excusing themselves loudly. I turned to start walking once again to the exit before he saw me. Most people were looking at us with annoyed expressions, wondering who the hell was shouting so loudly in a graveyard.

“I’ll meet you at the car,” I said again to Harry as I went to bolt. But it was too late. As I was turning my head back in the direction of the gate and away from the crowd of people, two bright blue eyes stopped me in my tracks. They were drilling into me and they were shocked.

He probably thought he was seeing a ghost, too. If he had tried to find me again over the years it would have said that I died at age nineteen from an aneurism. Cut all loose ends – I could never be traced. That was the agency’s number one priority with all agents.

Tom’s mouth went slack as I stopped moving and just stared back at him, unable to drop his gaze. He took a few steps towards me, abruptly leaving the conversation he had been having with the priest. He stopped walking when I started backing away instinctively, though.

He looked the exact same apart from minor details such as looking slightly older and his hair shorter. A major detail was how muscular he had become – Tom had always been on the scrawny side. Those days were long gone, it appeared.

He frowned at me in utter confusion and dismay, his chest rising and falling sharply. I knew that if we stared at each other for much longer, it would become noticeable to everyone else.

It had already been noticed by someone, it seemed.

“Let’s go,” Harry muttered, pushing me towards the exit. I snapped my eyes away from Tom and looked to Harry. He looked pissed off now.

In the end, Harvey and Jennifer had decided to stay at the graveyard longer once another friend offered them a drive home, according to Harry, as we left the premises to the car.

Once we were seated and belted I didn’t hesitate in pulling out of the space and speeding off to the exit of the car park which was situated across the road from the graveyard we had just left. The two entrances were parallel to one another. I could still make out the back of Jennifer’s head. This graveyard was exclusive and small – only the richest could afford such a location.

When we reached the exit, I braked briefly to ensure no cars were coming. I could see a blonde figure walking briskly towards the graveyard entrance, a determined look on his face. Harry spotted Tom too and frowned, bringing his eyes to me. We couldn’t talk properly – not in the car that was bugged with microphones.

I allowed my eyes to meet Tom’s once more as he neared us but sped off the instant he got too close for my liking. My head was pounding with unanswered questions – question’s I had put to bed years ago. Questions I hadn’t even contemplated.

I drove until we reached a petrol station and pulled in. I could feel Harry getting more fidgety next to me and it was only a matter of time before he broke. We both got out of the car and walked a couple of feet before speaking.

“Okay, who the fuck was that?” Harry demanded instantly.

“Tom Palmer,” I replied in a daze. It wasn’t registering with me that I had just seen him... would Tom blow my cover? Was the mission done for? Why did he fake his death? Why did he run after the car when I sped away?

“Tom Palmer...” Harry stopped to think for a minute before realisation hit him. He was probably thinking back to the night of Hugh’s opening and when we had almost crashed. “Your dead high-school boyfriend.”

It wasn’t a question – it was a statement. An accusatory statement.

“Yes. Well, I’m starting to think he’s not dead anymore,” I chuckled nervously.

“Now’s not the time for jokes,” Harry snapped, running his hand through his hair and pacing slightly.

“Never thought I’d hear you say that,” I smirked. I think I was in shock and denial all at once. Now I knew why Harry liked joking about so much when things got tough.

“Will he blow your cover? Because he obviously saw you. You had a staring match going on back there.” I detected a strong hint of jealousy in his tone and it made me smile. I wiped it off my face when Harry’s eyes blazed. And now that he was mentioning it too, I was starting to panic about my cover.

“I don’t know.”

“How is he alive, anyway?” Harry crossed his arms in annoyance, flickering his eyes between me and the ground.

“I don’t know.” I repeated

“Well, your boyfriend seems to know my father well...” Harry trailed off, dropping his eyes from me completely.

That was when I remembered – he had mentioned Michael Taylor at the end of his speech.

“Christ... Tom wouldn’t get involved in that shit... he wouldn’t do anything bad to anyone, never mind work for a monster...” I murmured in a daze.

“Well you don’t know that, do you? He faked his own death, he’s capable of anything,” Harry said, sounding annoyed again. “We probably won’t ever see him again, anyway. We just need to avoid people for the next couple of days until he has definitely flown back to wherever he came from.”

My heart dropped. I knew that not seeing him again was the right thing to do – but all of the questions that would go unanswered made me queasy. I needed to know what the fuck had happened to Tom... How had he ended up working for Michael?

Tom used to volunteer at the old-folks home back in high-school... being part of a big drugs-organisation was the opposite of what he stood for. Well, from the Tom I knew, anyway.

This man was a stranger – I needed to remember that.

That thought gave me strength and clarity. I needed to get my head out of the past. It was irrelevant to me whether he was alive or dead. I hadn’t seen him in ten years and I had moved on.

“We can’t be so sure... what if he starts asking people about me? Asking where Ethan Moore lives? It could all turn from innocent conversation to mission blown in two seconds flat,” I was pacing now.

“Well... do you... do you think we should go back there?” Harry said hesitantly, obviously hoping I would think of another plan and say no.

“I panicked and left back there... But thinking about it now... Fuck, I should have just gone up to him when I knew that he’d seen me...” I started biting my lip nervously, trying to look for an answer.

Normally the protocall by the agency if you are spotted by a person from your past is that you are instantly removed from the mission and placed in ‘recess’ for six months – that meant no missions until the hype died down.

But now that Harry was in such danger and our very own Captain was a criminal mastermind, there was no way I could go back there... We had to take this into our own hands but I really didn’t know how.

“I... I don’t know what to do,” I stammered.

Harry was staring into space in concentration, trying to think of a solution. If Tom had started asking people about me and they told him they didn’t know an Ethan Moore, what would he do? Obviously Michael hadn’t filled him in on me and Harry judging by how shocked he looked to see me.

Just then my phone beeped.

‘Meet me at the Sherberry Hotel ASAP. It’s important. Hugh.’

I showed the text to Harry. “Look, there’s nothing I can do about Tom. Besides, he faked his own death... He apparently has enough secrets of his own to be worrying about,” I said bitterly, walking back towards the car.

“Woah, wait,” Harry grabbed my arm as I reached for the door handle, “Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, this is something big, right? You’re not, I don’t know, having a breakdown or anything?”

If the situation hadn’t been so serious I would have burst out laughing. His face looked so vulnerable and he was obviously struggling for the right words to say... Harry didn’t deal well with other people being upset. His solution would be to get drunk and move on – unfortunately, that wouldn’t work this time.

“No, Harry. I’m not having a breakdown,” I put my hand on his arm, “Now, can we please go? Hugh is waiting for us in the Sherberry.”

Harry nodded and went to the passenger side, grumbling about how demanding ‘Lawman’ was.

The Sherberry was a mere ten minute drive away. Hugh had never summoned us like this so I guessed it was something drastic.

I pulled up at the main entrance and threw my keys to a young valet. We walked briskly inside and went straight to the reception desk. Hugh had texted on further details as I drove, instructing us to pick up a key at the desk for room 302 under his name.

Wasting no time, once we had the key we skipped the elevator and instead bounded up the stairs, taking it two at a time. We were faster than any elevator – our training had ensured that.

Room 302 was down a windy corridor, isolated from other rooms. The key worked instantly and we were inside.

Hugh was sitting on the bed, a whiskey from the mini-bar poured into a glass. He looked stressed.

“I thought you were overseas and couldn’t come to the funeral?” Harry said suspiciously, standing in front of me. I rolled my eyes. Harry would be suspicious of Hugh until the day he died.

Hugh stood up and motioned for us to sit on the chairs by the desk beside the bed. “What? Oh, I just didn’t want to go to the funeral so I lied. Anyway, sit down. We have a lot to discuss... it’s time to make a proper plan, boys. Things have... escalated.”

He took another gulp of his drink and sat back down.

“What is it, Hugh?” I didn’t want to wait a second longer – I would tell him about the day’s activities after we got some answers.

“Michael Taylor is coming to the US in three days. He’s just waiting for his passport to come through – his own one isn’t good enough since he has a criminal record and can’t enter the country with it.”

I shot my eyes over to Harry who had gone paler. No matter how much he claimed he was past being afraid, I knew better. When the reality will hit him, he would crumble.

“How do you know this?” I demanded, sitting forward in my seat. My heart was already beating erratically.

“I told him.”

The voice was coming from the bathroom door of the room – I hadn’t even noticed it was closed when we walked in. My heart dropped to my stomach and I gripped the arms of the seat.

Harry, unable to control his surprise, gave an audible gasp. Always the fucking drama-queen.

“Ethan, I’m aware that you and Tom have met...” Hugh trailed off awkwardly. Obviously he was aware of more than just that.

“Yes. We know each other,” Tom was staring at me, those big blue eyes full of confusion once more.

“Knew,” I corrected, standing up. There was a silence and a tense standoff between Tom and I. I could see Harry fidgeting out of the corner of my eye. “Well, aren’t you going to explain yourself?” I snapped.

“I could say the same thing to you,” he retorted.

My eyebrows shot up and I was livid. “Don’t start that – don’t you fucking dare. You faked your own death, Tom – don’t you fucking dare turn this around on me, you prick.”

I was practically spitting the words at him. We rarely fought when we were together but when we did, it turned vicious. Or ‘passionate’ as he would put it once we had made up.

He dropped his eyes to the ground. “I know. And I’ve a lot to explain about that... But now isn’t the time. You and Harry are in danger. Michael has sent over some of his closest associates already. Some were at the funeral. Once he gets here, it’s game over. We need a plan.”

“Woah, woah, woah – slow down there, Kylie Minogue. Who says you’re part of this plan?” Harry stood up, eyeing Tom.

“Tom is an undercover agent – he has infiltrated himself into Michael’s gang over the years and is now considered an important member. This operation has been years in the making,” Hugh interjected.

“Alright Lawman, that’s enough from you,” Harry replied swiftly, taking a step towards Tom. I would normally stop Harry now and tell him to stop being an idiot, but the words were stuck in my throat. Tom was an undercover agent?

“And what exactly is your ‘plan’ here?” Harry was trying to seem intimidating but up against Tom, who had prominent muscles and was at least two inches taller than Harry, he looked like a kitten attacking a lion.

“Well, it’s not that simple... We have a lot to discuss.” Tom kept trying to catch my eye but I stared at the ground.

“Summarise it buddy – otherwise, it’s no deal.” Harry said cockily. I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“Fine,” Tom said shortly, “Our plan, in simple terms, is to use you as a bait and bring down anyone involved in this organisation. Okay?”

This got my attention and my eyes snapped up. “Absolutely not.”

“Ethan –,” Harry started to interrupt but I held my hand up, silencing him. Walking from my position I squared up to Tom. Our eyes were at the exact same level and I could be a lot more intimidating than Harry.

“Over my dead body will you use him as a bait. Get another plan,” I snarled.

Tom looked taken aback but he jutted his jaw out before he spoke – he always did that whenever he was about to be stubborn. The fact that I remembered that unnerved me. The fact that he was standing here in front of me unnerved me.

“It will be over your dead body. I was sent here to take you out and take Harry hostage when Michael gives me the go-ahead. So unless you want him to get suspicious, you’re gonna have to die, Moore. Or at least Michael will have to think you're dead.”

“My name is Ethan,” I snapped automatically. He had always called me Moore when we were together – it had been an ongoing joke. In school, when he had tried to find out what my name was on the first day, he had thought it was Moore when a teacher yelled at me in front of him. All teachers addressed us by our surnames whenever we were in trouble. So when he approached to talk to me, he addressed me as Moore... and it just stuck, even when I’d corrected him.

But now, I was Ethan to him.

He looked more hurt than I’d expected by my comment but looked away and backed off.

“Sit down and tell us exactly how you’re going to do this,” Harry said quietly from behind me. I swung around to him, my eyes wide.

“Harry, you are not doing this!” I said desperately.

He brought his eyes to mine and shrugged. He looked like a man who had just been told he had terminal cancer. “I’ll listen to what they have to say. If there is no other solution then I see no choice.”

“No!” I snapped.

“Ethan, it’s okay. Let’s just listen to them.” Harry reached over and took my hand in his.

“No! Harry... no!” I felt like all of the weight I’d been carrying on my shoulders was crumbling down on top of me, all at once. I wouldn’t let Harry be put at risk like this... not a chance. Not for anyone.

“Give him a whiskey... I think he needs one,” Tom said quietly from behind me. Damn him for knowing my drink of choice. Damn the both of them for concocting a plan like this. Hugh and Tom would not put Harry at risk. I simply wouldn’t allow it.

“I don’t want a whiskey,” I said irritably.

Nonetheless, Hugh placed a glass in my hand. Harry let go of my other hand and retook his seat, a serious look on his face. I stayed standing, motionless and in some form of shock.

“Start talking,” Harry instructed to Tom and Hugh.

By the end, almost half an hour later, I still hadn’t moved a muscle. This couldn’t be happening.

“That sounds like it might work,” Harry mused after a couple of minutes of deliberating and fine-tuning the details.

My back sunk against the wall and I fell onto a seat.

It was hard to find the inspiration to fight this when my very inspiration was practically signing his life over to two guys with a shoddy plan. This could only end badly - my gut was never wrong.

I took a sip of my whiskey.

This is by far the longest chapter I have ever written... I was going to stop at the graveyard scene when Ethan recognised Tom but I couldn’t stop writing!!

I hope you all enjoy this chapter... I haven’t edited it because I’m so tired after writing it, but if you spot any errors, let me know! :)

Thanks so much for all of your support... you’ve really given me the fight and inspiration to maybe one day fulfilling my ‘crazy’ dreams of being an author!

Also, I’m so close to hitting 50,000 reads – that’s mind-blowing! I’m so grateful.

I’ll stop babbling on now.... have a good day!

P.S - I chose the song 'Jar of Hearts' by Christina Perri for this chapter as it kind of shows how Ethan is feeling right now with Tom's return. :)

-O.