Date: Sat, 4 Jun 2011 06:34:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: Micheal Chukwu <mikeinstudio9344 (at) yahoo (dot) com>
Subject: The Game Chapter 8

 This story is based on two gay men. You must be above the legal age of 18
(or as stipulated by your country/state) to read this story. If this story
is illegal in your area, PLEASE DO NOT READ IT. This story is a work of
ficition. Any similarity of the characters to any person is clearly a
coincidence.  All other usual disclaimers apply.

 Please send your feedback or critisim to mikeinstudio9344(at)yahoo(dot)com
or http://www.gayauthors.org/forums/user/12573-michael9344/

The Game

Chapter Eight - Plead for Trust

   As soon as the door swung shut Jake leaned against the cool, tiled wall
of the kitchen, shaking. It was one thing to suspect McCall knew, even to
hear the names, but it was another to see cold hard evidence. McCall knew
it all, even things the press had never printed. The only thing he didn't
know was which of the de Souza boys he really was.

   He had to get out of New Zealand tonight. Taking Danny's security away
for now was only less appalling than the thought of the destruction of his
gentle, loving trust and timid. Stuttering shyness at Falcone's ruthless
hand.

   He would find a location in a place he could but safety in extradition
laws, and get Danny back into a stable life. He'd dump everything, change
their lives completely. He'd heard people could buy fake birth and death
certificates through hackers on the Net. Maybe if he bribed someone to
create graves, he could kill off both their identities forever, and start
over...

   "Here." Let me."

   Jake gave a stifled cry as hot milk splashed over his wrist; he held
back a gasp as McCall took the pan from his hands.

   "Don't handle hot liquids while you're working out how to give me the
slip." McCall stirred the chocolate into the milk, and shoved a mug toward
him. "Drink that. It'll calm your nerves."

   'He knew.'

   With those simple words McCall had robbed Jake of all breath, all
thought. On autopilot Jake did as McCall bade him, but he couldn't taste
the rich sweetness on his tongue. He felt hollowed out, empty, brainless,
unable to continue his plans for escape.

   "Ken and Donna Richards are here. I promised I'd take Danny his drink
before he went." McCall poured the milk into Danny's mug with a steady
hand. "Come and see Danny off, then we'll talk."

   Graceless, nerveless, all Jake could do was put down his mug and follow
McCall. How to tell Donna he had to collect Danny again tonight... that
Danny couldn't go camping after all...

   Jake's heart ached. Poor little Danny - such a simple thing to want, and
he had to rob him of the chance. Jake knew Danny might resent him for years
for what he had to do, but at least he'd still be alive, with his innocence
intact. He could live with Danny's anger at denying him a normal life. He'd
find Danny's forgiveness one day for what he had to do to him, hiding in
the shadows, watching through locked and bolted windows while others
laughed and loved and lived, free of constant, haunting shades of terror.

   'A life lived in fear is a life half lived.'

   Jake's eyes squeezed shut. 'I'm so sorry, my baby. This is all I have to
give you...'

    As soon as he entered the living room, Donna's gaze sharpened for a
moment; then as if she had seen Jake's inner stress, her face softened into
a grin. "Looking forward to your get-out-of-jail-free card, Jake? Three
nights alone for the first time in almost seven years..."

   Jake forced out a laugh, and ruffled Danny's hair. "It hasn't been a
sacrifice."

   Danny was bouncing from foot to foot, even as he gave Jake a fierce, if
brief, hug. "Can I go now, Daddy?"

   He kissed the top of Danny's head. "Go sweetie. Enjoy yourself." Jake
smiled, watching as Danny bolted out the door with Ethan and without his
bag. With an understanding grin, Ken tossed it over his shoulder.

   With sudden inspiration Jake took a step back and made a sign to Donna -
thumb to ear, finger to ear. `I'll call you.'

   Donna showed no sign of seeing it; Jake knew she had caught his signal
when she turned to distract McCall. "It's been nice to meet you,
Brendan. See you around - with Jake, maybe? So where you from, Brendan? Are
you American or Canadian? You have any family back home?" She fired
question after question with a hint of archness in her tone. Playing the
nosy girlfriend to perfection. A deflection with the skill of a
professional - and McCall kept his face away from Jake as he answered.

   Jake dragged in a silent sigh. A moment's relief was all he could ask
for right now. The reckoning was in front of his face, and he didn't have a
clue how to fight it.

   As soon as Jake shut the door behind the Richards family, he turned and
walked straight into the kitchen and stood with legs splayed, holding the
bench as if it was his last best friend.

   McCall came in and stood beside him, refusing to sit at the stool, but
towered over him. Watching him. "You need to know what's going on before
you make any decisions." McCall's eyes lingered on him, assessing him. "I
got word two hours ago. Falcone's on the move. He's left his island. His
men have already reached Auckland, and showing your photos - you know the
ones I mean - asking if anyone knows you. It's only a matter of hours,
maybe a day, before they know where you are."

   The quiet words hit him with sledgehammer force. He reeled, holding the
bench to stop himself from falling over. "W-who?" He whispered in
flickering defiance.

   McCall's voice was bleak, his wild, rugged face inscrutable. "I'm
risking my career telling you this."

   Jake's defenses, and the life of his son, depended on his lie. "Who?" he
asked, stronger this time.

   McCall's jaw tightened; he loomed over him like an avenging Fury, even
as he checked his wrist, saw the red patch. Without a word he grabbed a
clean towel and wet it, then wrapped it gently around the burn, soothing
it. A small act, but with great effect on him. "Danny's father is on his
way to claim his son, and to kill you. Is that easier to cope with?"

   Hearing what he already knew but put so bluntly, made his knees give
way. "N-no..."

   McCall held him up with strong arms, his face stern and darkly beautiful
in its concern. "I'm here. I'm here."

   "And that's supposed to help?" Jake gripped the bench with fingers gone
white from unrelenting pressure.

   "I want you to think so. I am here to help." Though McCall's strength
could easily double his, his words were gentle, tender as the arms that
held him. "It's over Jake." He murmured. "Please trust me. I want to help
you."

   A dark, gypsy whisper with an insidious sweetness almost compelling Jake
to obey. Jake dragged in a harsh breath, releasing it only when he felt his
diaphragm protest that it couldn't give any more leeway. 'Danny's life
depends on this. You can't trust him because you want to!'

   Jake kept his gaze fixed on the volcanic pattern of the bench top,
drawing patterns on its surface with an absent finger. "You won't tell me
who you represent, or give me proof. Do I hand my life over to you on the
basis of a few words?"

   After a long moment, McCall nodded. "You're right. But even if I weren't
under orders, I've been trained to keep my career close to vest for a long
time."

   Jake expelled the air, and as he stalked past McCall, the scent of warm,
sweet chocolate came to him. Luscious danger... the chained jaguar unable
to reach its prey by conventional means, and he held his breath again,
sensing that McCall was finally going to share something of himself, and
his life.

   "My boss ordered me to tell you nothing until I have confirmation of
your ID, and evidence we needed to get the government of Minca bel Sol to
overwrite their extradition laws and hand Falcone over. But my boss doesn't
have a little boy whose life is on the line." He almost threw the words at
him, his voice grating and stark. "I think the time for the truth has come
- from both of us." McCall tipped his face up and looked in his eyes, his
own hiding too many secrets and too much at stake to tell them all. "I'm
sure from the way you never contacted me after our last date that your
father told you about my dishonorable discharge from the SEALs. He would
also have told you why it happened, at least as far as he knew. What he
said wasn't the real truth, though we'll never know if he knew that or
not." McCall rubbed his jaw as if the late-night shadow on it bothered
him. "I don't want to turn you against your father. I wouldn't tell you
this if I had another way to convince you. I can't give you the details
surrounding the terms of my discharge - it's highly classified - but it was
always a fake. It's my cover, an intricate story with full legal back-up to
get me into anywhere I need to go for my job."

   "And what job is that?" Jake asked, losing the feeling in his hands as
he gripped on. Everything hinged on McCall's answer now.

   Dragging in another harsh breath, McCall swung around to face him, his
eyes the color of a storm-tossed ocean, and burning hot. "I could be
court-martialed for what I'm about to tell you. I belong to a top-secret
group of mostly ex-military fighter-pilots, a CSAR-combat
search-and-rescue-team. Most of us were recruited from the elite squads,
the most dangerous - Green Berets, SAS, SEALs, Para Rescue Jumpers, and
etcetera. Our job description includes gathering information and rescuing
people in places government can't or won't acknowledge they have vested
interests in. We infiltrate drug and gun-running rings, fight in
unacknowledged war zones, rescue hostages from deadly places - and we find
people who don't want to be found." A little, grim smile. "We also find
people in deadly danger who refuse to take up help, or even admit they're
in peril. People who put their own kids at risk because they're too proud
and stubborn - or too - scared - to reach out and trust us."

   Jake absorbed the information with a strange sense of calm. Much as part
of him didn't want to believe McCall, it all made sense. He'd known all
along that McCall was a hero junkie. It made complete sense that he'd be a
spy who rescued people.

    'If he's telling the truth, why didn't my father know? As an ambassador
to the United States, he'd have had clearance to find out.'

   The logical conclusion to that question was too painful to explore. So
he lifted his chin, choosing defiance. "Would either of us be in peril -
would this Falcone person know where we are if you hadn't come?"

   Jake felt McCall's shrug, the mental withdrawal, his own trust, and his
unspoken hope withering under the quiet question. "We only got your name
because Falcone's men were searching in the South Pacific region. Falcone's
been searching for you both for a long time. He never believed in your
death, or his son's." His gaze sharpened. "You know the deal. We know
you're either Jacob or Marcus de Souza. From there you hold the cards. We
want the evidence to send Falcone to the electric chair. He'd be indicted
in Texas. For that evidence, we guarantee your safety."

   "I don't have any evidence. My name is Jacob Silver." Jake kept his gaze
on McCall's face - no hardship, since looking at him was an addiction, as
all-consuming as Ecstasy - as he had to deflect him. "You're not the first
person who's confused me with Jake or Marcus de Souza."He
sighed. "Obviously this Falcone man has. Danny's real father did, too. He
fooled me into believing he loved me," 'Forgive me, Marcus, for borrowing
your story. Until he confirms who he is with reasonable proof, I must make
McCall believe that Danny's father isn't Falcone.' "It wasn't until Danny
was on the way that I saw his obsession with him had transferred to me. The
violence and anger that I wasn't the man he really wanted left me with no
choice but to take Danny and run. I've been running for years." Jake
finally released his fingers from the bench, and the ache came,
rapier-sharp, through his hands, but he welcomed it right now. Physical
pain he could handle. "If this Falcone person takes us, believing us to be
his ex and son, so help me, Brendan McCall, I will kill you."

   McCall's eyes bored holes into his soul, but not his story. "Are you
telling me you're not Robert Falcone's partner?"

   Dear God, Falcone's partner. He wanted to throw up. "I'm nobody's
partner" Jake answered with a queer sense of gladness that he could be
honest about this, at least. "I never have been."

   McCall frowned. His hunter's instinct had obviously heard the truth in
his words. "You didn't marry Danny's father?"

   He shook his head. "No, but it won't stop him from trying to kill me if
he finds me - and it won't stop Falcone from taking my son, if he believes
Danny is his son." Again, Jake's gaze locked on McCall's. Moving closer to
him, body against will. "You say your group is above the government, in
league with the CIA and MI6?"

   He nodded his face wary.

   "So you are responsible to them, or free agents? You promise protection,
I exchange for evidence, but do we have an expiration date? Do I get
effective protection, or a so-called safe house that he could infiltrate in
hours? Would your group betray my trust and my son's safety to achieve your
higher purpose? Are our lives an acceptable risk to your boss? Would my son
and I become collateral damage to him in a greater war?" Jake demanded
fiercely, in total contrast to his tremor-shaken body.

   The finger still touching the soft skin below Jake's chin fell. McCall's
knees shook; illogically, he felt as if his last support had vanished
beneath his feet. "Damn it, man, you know where to hit, don't you?" McCall
wheeled away, dashing a thick lock of hair from his face with careless
grace. "I won't lie to you. I can't guarantee he won't, Jake. I know my
boss. He'd blow the world apart to save one of his objectives, to stop a
war or bring down a scum like Falcone, but though he'd expect me to give my
life to save you and Danny during the mission, individuals like you and
Danny are like blips on the screen in the longer-term picture. He'd arrange
for your safety, sure, but unless he had reason to believe you were in
danger again, he'd forget about you when the next disaster came along."

   A fire-streak of agony flashed through his brain, leaving him weak. "So
why should I confirm or deny anything? Why should I try to bargain with
you?"

   McCall threw him an intense look over his shoulder. "Because I'm not my
boss. I give you my word, Jake, here and now... if you trust me with your
lives, I'd lay down my life before I'd let anyone touch you or Danny. I'd
refuse direct orders, turn my back on my career, take another treason
charge, stand in silence through a court-martial, and even commit murder to
keep you safe. I'd walk through burning hell to save you."

    The power of those raw words sent tremors through Jake's entire body;
but a flicker of doubt. Of fear, made him ask, "If I'm Jacob de Souza, you
mean? What if I'm not him?"

   McCall's gaze narrowed for a moment; then came back to him, putting his
hand under his face again, caressing gently. Giving to him because he
wanted to not because he was trying to force his secrets from him. "I just
gave my word to Jake Silver" he growled, his dark, stormy face beautiful in
its masculine intensity. "Don't you get it? It might be my job, and the
right thing to find out if you could rid the world of that filthy bastard
Falcone with that tape, but I don't give a damn who you're. It's
you... 'you' and Danny I'd lay down my life for, whether you're Jake and
Danny Silver or Jacob and Robbie Falcone."

   Aching, Jake whispered. "Prove it."

   "There's only one way to prove it - and that's with my life." McCall
released his chin and paced the room, seeming to take the night with him;
then he stalked over to Jake and took his cheek in his hand, caressing him
with tender reassurance. Close, too close. Never close enough. "I told you
I'd walk through hell burning for you, and I would." McCall growled against
his mouth, his breath mingling with his. "Come with me, Jake, and I'll
prove it any way I have to. If it comes to that, I swear to God that I
would die to save you and Danny."