Part IV—Hot Chocolate and Hot Beef

ELLERY HEARD tromping up the stairs to the front door first, and the murmur of voices second. With a yawn and a stretch, he glanced around for Jackson and realized that the spot he'd occupied when Ellery had fallen asleep was empty and cold. The heaters kept the porch tolerable, but night had fallen, and it was chilly enough for Ellery to stand up, turn the heaters off, and go inside.

"Jackson!" he called, shutting the door behind him and moving into the house proper. "Jackson, how long have I been ou—oh!"

Jackson was standing in the foyer, stripping off Ellery's good skiing jacket and his own boots. Behind him was a young military officer, his skin a pale clay color with a sort of unbearable earnestness around the eyes that didn't seem to befit a man in Jason Constance's secret unit of assassins and support.

"Hey, Ellery," Jackson said softly, and now that he was in his moccasins, he moved forward to touch Ellery's hip gently and give him a peck on the cheek. "Can we go into the kitchen for some hot chocolate for Lieutenant Briggs here, and he can call in Daniels and Medina? We've got some shit to discuss."

Ellery stared at him, mouth opening and closing, and Jackson gave him a gentle wink.

"You'll yell at me later," he said, "but right now it's Christmas Eve, and these guys gave up whatever leave they had coming to watch our asses. They don't have transport home until tomorrow, and the least we can do is give them some hot chocolate and—"

"And brisket," Ellery said quickly. "We've got a roast in the oven, and I made enough for plenty of leftovers. We might as well share. There's pie in the refrigerator too." He gave Jackson a resigned look, and Jackson inclined his head in thanks. Yes, they'd planned to have leftovers and an intimate Christmas dinner together; they'd fled Sacramento because, in spite of how much they loved family and friends, they wanted, just for a little bit, to have time to themselves. But Jackson was right, as he was so often right about people. Whatever he'd done that Ellery wouldn't like, he'd obviously called in backup. Yeah, sure, they could do this as crisply and efficiently as the military op it seemed to be, but why? Jackson had called their friends to have his back, and these were the men Jason and Burton had sent. It didn't seem right to turn them into the cold after a mechanical debrief and tell them to have a nice night.

"Ooh," Jackson said. "I'd forgotten about the brisket. Seriously, Briggs, did you guys have anything better going down?"

"Pizza," Briggs said, sounding haunted—and hungry. "And hot coffee. And no hot chocolate—"

"Or pie or cookies or Jackson's sister's fudge," Ellery told him, winking. "Bring your men in. I assume the crisis has passed."

Briggs gave Jackson an assessing stare and nodded. "It has," he said. "But we've got lots to discuss."

Which they did after the others had arrived, removing their own camo jackets and snow boots in the foyer, following Jackson's lead.

Jackson moved around the table, putting down winter place settings while the young men—all of whom had worked together for a long time, it seemed, and with Jackson too, apparently— bantered about the snow and the animals they'd seen on the security system. Meanwhile, Ellery took the roast out to rest, prepared a vat of hot chocolate with some coffee thrown in for good measure, and made the salad.

When everything was ready, he had the young soldiers go wash their hands, and he turned to Jackson, who was serving up the chocolate in mugs he'd been pleased to find above the stove. Ellery's mother had bought the cabin for the both of them and had it outfitted, and every detail—the enamel-coated tin mugs, the sturdy stoneware plates, even the giant roasting pan—was absolute perfection.

"How bad is it?" Ellery asked, and Jackson grimaced at him over the hot chocolate vat.

"What makes you think—"

"So far we've heard about snowy owls, a giant bear, and how Daniels's sister thinks he should settle down in a throuple but he's not sure how his military benefits would work with that. Which is interesting, but none of it explains where you were for half an hour while I was asleep."

Jackson grimaced. "They're trying to spare you, at least until dinner's done," he said softly. "Also, they really want to hear the parts in the middle. Christiansen hacked the security system, Ellery. There were whole chunks they didn't see. So as impatient as you are, they're more impatient, and they're trying to be chivalrous."

Ellery mulled this over for a moment. "Is it going to ruin my roast if we talk about it?" he asked.

Jackson seemed to consider. "No," he said after a moment. "I mean, there was a death, but at no time was I in danger."

Ellery's eyes narrowed. "I'm pretty sure that's a lie," he said. "But as long as it won't turn my stomach, I say let the conversation flow."

Jackson looked worried, and Ellery thought that was probably a sign of dawning wisdom.

The young soldiers returned, and everybody dished up some food. The roast was exquisite, and the vegetables had cooked up nicely if Ellery said so himself, and in a few moments, there was the quiet hum of happily eating people.

Ellery met Jackson's eyes as he toyed with the food on his plate and cocked his head. "Eat," he said softly.

Jackson rolled his eyes. "It's good," he said apologetically.

"I'm not breaking up with you on Christmas, Jackson. Eat."

Jackson shoved a bite of food in his mouth, chewed—appreciatively, it was true—and swallowed. "But the day after Christmas?" he asked delicately.

"Probably not," Ellery said dryly, and to his relief, Jackson took another bite. The soldiers looked from one of them to the other, decided it was not a domestic dispute, and kept eating. Ellery breathed a sigh of relief and dug into his own food, almost losing himself in the pleasant side talk of the younger men, to the point that when Briggs actually broached the subject, he was neither tense nor surprised.

"So," he said, wiping his mouth with an air of contentment, "that was amazing, Mr. Cramer. We can't thank you enough."

Ellery's heart, already mellowed by the meal and by Jackson's obvious remorse, melted even further. "You're more than welcome," he said. "Now, is anybody going to tell me what happened?"

"Well," Briggs said, sending a nervous glance at Jackson, "like your man here suspected, you were followed."

"By Christiansen?" Ellery asked, still amazed that the seemingly mild-mannered, handsome businessman had been an assassin.

"Oh no," Daniels said. Daniels was California-boy handsome, with gold-streaked brown hair, a square jaw, and an easy good ole boy smile. "Or, I mean, Christiansen was here , but you were followed by a guy we only know as the Snowman. It's our understanding that Christiansen followed him ." He sent Jackson a look. "Isn't that right, Mr. Rivers?"

Jackson nodded. "That's about it. Christiansen—or whatever his name is—was supposed to carry out a contract on us. He met us and decided we didn't do what he was supposed to kill us for. Also, I suspect"—he glanced at all the young men—"he's wary of crossing your unit, because he knows what you do."

"But how would he even know we were involved?" Medina asked, and Ellery was glad because it had been on the tip of his tongue.

"Because we were being targeted for the death of Alexei Kovacs," Jackson said, and eyebrows went up all around.

"We had nothing to do with that," Ellery blurted, and then he remembered who had something to do with that, and he blinked slowly. Did Burton's unit know what he, Jai, and Ace had done?

The faces of all three young men went carefully blank, and Ellery assumed word got around.

"Ex actly ," Jackson said.

"Does he know who did, now?" Briggs asked.

Jackson shook his head. "He knew I was protecting somebody," he said apologetically. "But he didn't dig into who. He wasn't there for that. He'd declined the contract, put out word that we weren't to be targeted, and he was there because the Snowman defied his orders. What can I say—the man has a reputation to protect."

"Wait," Ellery said, suddenly aware that there was only one way Jackson could have gotten this information in the span of half an hour. "How do you know this?"

"You know," Medina said suddenly into the silence, "I'd love to clear the table and do the dishes and dish up dessert and maybe vacuum—"

"Sit down, you cowards," Jackson said dryly to the rest of the young men, who were making "getting up" motions. "He'd rigged the cameras. Briggs and the others saw Snowman go down, but they didn't see Christiansen. The only one who saw him was me, and he wanted to talk. So I went out and talked to him."

Ellery's stomach, which had been all happy-fine with the wonderful meal, threatened to rebel. "You what?" he asked faintly, and when Jackson spoke next, it was exclusively to him.

"He could have killed us at any time," Jackson murmured. "The way he had the cameras fixed, we would have been on our own. Ellery, I didn't even see what took out Snowman—"

"It looked like a tiny scalpel, fired with an air gun—but something small," Briggs said. "It was silent, almost invisible, and deadly."

Jackson waved his hands in agitation. " See ?" he said, as though that one word held all of the speculation and fear he'd been living with for the last two hours. "If he could do that , in full view of the best of the US Military covert ops, I didn't stand a chance. But he didn't want to kill us. So I went to talk to him to find out why."

Ellery swallowed. "You left me sleeping," he said, feeling helpless.

Jackson bit his lip. "I didn't want you to be scared," he said softly. "He wasn't going to kill us, but we needed to talk."

"I would have come with you." Ellery felt perilously close to tears.

Jackson grimaced, and Ellery frowned for a moment. When Jackson met his eyes again he seemed… embarrassed.

Wait. Ellery knew that look. That was the expression Jackson had worn when he'd—in his words—"hit that" in his previous life of lonely manwhore and "that" still had a yen.

Oh wait. "Really?" Ellery said.

Jackson shrugged. "I had a feeling."

"He hit on you ?"

The three young men at the table were now staring at Jackson in appreciation.

"Really?" Daniels asked, sounding very impressed.

"His last companion was, uhm, no longer available," Jackson told them meaningfully, and Ellery knew when his full meaning had sunk in because they all gasped.

" Really ?" said Briggs and Medina in concert.

Jackson gave a sheepish glance at them. "Yeah. I, uh, gather the Snowman was his retirement plan. It, uhm, didn't work out. He was wondering if I'd, uhm, consider… you know."

"Did you?" Briggs asked, and Medina—who was sitting next to him—smacked him in the arm.

"I left him sleeping !" Jackson protested, gesturing to Ellery with his empty hot chocolate mug, and all three young men nodded.

"Yeah," Daniels said. "Of course you didn't."

Ellery had to admit, the pervasiveness of that sentiment made him feel better about the young men guarding them.

"So what was the upshot?" Ellery asked. "He told you why the hit was taken out and then tried to get you to run away with him?"

"More importantly," Jackson emphasized, "he told me it wouldn't be carried out, period . Don't you get it? If he'll kill his own boyfriend for trying, nobody else is going to take the contract. We're safe, the situation is over, and, well, he's lonely, but I think the kittens are going to a good home."

Ellery's brain shorted out, and Medina said, "Wait, kittens?" and Briggs really did clear the table while Jackson and Ellery told the kitten story to the appreciative young men.

THEY STAYED for dessert and some quiet conversation in the living room, after having cleaned the kitchen with military precision. Ellery had to admit, if it hadn't been for the assassins, he would have enjoyed the young squad's company immensely.

But Jackson—with some help from the soldiers—had built a small fire in the hearth and set up twinkling lights on the mantel. As charmed as he was by their help decorating, he was relieved to see them go so he could curl up in Jackson's arms and have the privacy they'd tried to give themselves for Christmas.

The soldiers bid a quiet, grateful goodbye, and after escorting them out, Jackson returned to the couch to regard Ellery warily.

"I'm still not breaking up with you," he said dryly, and Jackson's relieved smile made him laugh. "Come," he said, patting the spot on the couch next to him. "Sit. Let's try this again."

"Sure," Jackson murmured, and Ellery sat up so he could lean against Jackson's strong and battered body.

"Why didn't you wake me?" Ellery asked after a moment of silence. He was careful not to let recrimination seep into his tone. He was sleeping ! Jackson had protested, and every soldier there had nodded. There was a level of protection in that, of seeing your partner as vulnerable, of wanting to make sure that moment was preserved. Ellery didn't think of himself as the weaker partner, but that begged the question. Why not involve him?

"Another year," Jackson murmured, settling back against the corner of the couch. "Another year that was not easy on you, Ellery. Where you lost sleep over me again and again."

"If I didn't want this life," Ellery said softly, "I wouldn't be here."

"As you've informed me," Jackson said, and Ellery could hear the wry laughter there. "And I'm taking you at your word. But this time… I had a hunch it would be okay. That this could have been a crisis, but Christiansen, or whoever he is, had decided against it. Because if he hadn't, we'd already be dead."

Ellery grunted. "He can't possibly be that goo—"

Jackson shook him slightly. "No," he said. "Don't make that mistake. Ellery, we were in very mortal danger tonight, but… but when I saw Snowman go down, I felt hope. I wanted you… asleep. Dreaming of what we were doing tonight. Content. Not afraid. Not scared for my life. Just once… my Christmas gift to you, I guess. I wanted you to be dreaming of peace and not planning for battle."

Ellery's eyes stung. "Please tell me you dream of peace too, sometimes," he said wistfully.

"I dream of our wedding day," Jackson said, surprising him, because Jackson had made few plans or demands, leaving most of it to Ellery. True, Ellery loved it, and Galen relished helping him, as did Jade and most of Jackson's family, but Ellery had assumed that meant Jackson didn't think about it.

"What do you dream?"

Jackson hmm ed. "I dream of it being outdoors—you said you reserved a day in the rose garden in front of the capitol?"

"Yeah. June seventeen," Ellery said. They had court the week after, so they wouldn't be leaving on a honeymoon right away, but Jackson loved Sacramento, and one of his few requests had been natural flowers during an outdoor wedding. Another request had been that it be near the evening, so no matter how hot the day, the delta breeze would, in all likelihood, cool them down.

"I love the idea of being there, releasing butterflies, being a part of something beautiful. I-I've never felt like that before. That I could be part of something beautiful. Not until you. I dream about that. Not of a perfect day, because…." He shook his head, and Ellery gave thanks for somebody who anticipated disaster, as he did.

"Same," he said, and Jackson chuckled.

"But you'll be looking good in a suit, and I'll…. God willing, no major injuries next year. I'll be cleaned up and pretty, here's hoping. At least I'll be shaved."

It was Ellery's turn to chuckle. "You'll be stunning," he said, meaning it. The man was stunning in ill-fitting jeans and whisper-thin T-shirts. In a suit, shaved, his hair water-combed and trimmed, he was irresistible.

"You're easy," Jackson teased, and Ellery felt his eyes burn.

"No," he said softly. "I'm not. I… I never trusted anybody to watch my sleep before. I never wanted so badly to be in somebody's dream."

Jackson nuzzled his temple. "So I let you sleep," he said softly. "Just this once. I wanted you to have a peaceful Christmas so we can share a brave new year. Is that okay?"

Ellery's tears spilled over, but he didn't care. He captured Jackson's mouth, feeling like he'd captured more. He'd captured the heart of a rare and precious creature, and he had to treat it carefully.

Jackson poured himself into the kiss, and suddenly careful wasn't a word.

They kissed until clothes became unbearable, until skin to skin became necessary. Jackson tore himself away at one point, leaving Ellery dazed and sprawled naked on the couch, his cock aching and wet from Jackson's mouth, his body trembling on the edge of everything if only, only, Jackson LeRoy Rivers would touch him again.

Jackson came back with a thick sleeping bag he'd stashed in the spare room. Ellery had wondered at him bringing it at the time, but now as Jackson—naked in the firelight—straightened the thing out on the carpeted floor in front of the fireplace and threw a couple of pillows from the spare room at its head, he understood.

When their bed was ready, he turned hopefully to Ellery, who allowed himself to be borne to their makeshift bed, their bodies stroking against each other, the light of the flames bathing their skin.

Ellery thought foolishly that he could have kissed Jackson forever, their bodies touching like that, but Jackson's hands, his mouth, his skillful touches, brought Ellery closer and closer to his peak again, and urgency swept him like the unrelenting waves of time.

"Jackson!" he begged, relieved when he felt a lube-slick finger penetrate him. The lube didn't surprise him—it must have been brought in with the sleeping bag and the pillows—but the touch! Oh, that almost sent him rocketing into the night.

And again, and again, and before Ellery could shout and grovel, his hand on his cock as he ground himself into climax, Jackson was slicked up and poised at his entrance.

"Ready?" he asked, and Ellery nodded at him mutely. Jackson's face was damp with the sweat of lovemaking in the orange light, and his eyes—so damned green they defied logic—took in Ellery's face, his nakedness, his need, with a grateful sort of hunger. He'd never wanted anything so bad in his life, Ellery thought. He'd never been so happy that the very thing he craved was there, welcoming him inside.

And then Jackson was in, moving seamlessly, his every breath a wordless cry. When he threw his head back, body trembling, Ellery tried to keep his eyes open, to see the expression on his face as he came, but he couldn't. His own climax washed over him, and he had to squeeze his eyes shut and trust, trust, that Jackson's immersion into their lovemaking was as complete, as all-consuming, as his own.

Jackson moaned softly as he poured his come into Ellery's body, and Ellery cried out as he convulsed around Jackson's cock. As Jackson collapsed against him and kissed his neck, his jaw, his shoulders, Ellery had no doubts.

They were each other's. Their dreams, even, were one. Jackson wouldn't desert Ellery when he was sleeping unless it was to secure his safety, because Ellery's safety, his sleep, and his dreams, were Jackson's to hold.

And Jackson wanted peace and health for the next year. He wanted a day in the sunshine with hope. Ellery would die to give him these things, just like Jackson would kill to keep him safe.

So much work to do—always so much work to do—but here, in this isolated cabin over Christmas, they had earned a sweaty, sexy, peaceful rest.

THE SLEEPING bag was big enough to cover them both when Jackson pulled one side of it over their bodies. They'd probably move to the bedroom—the floor wasn't as comfy as it could be—but for the moment they were naked in front of the fire. And replete.

"Jackson?" Ellery said softly.

"Yeah?"

"So we trust each other, right?"

"Oh yeah." Jackson nuzzled his temple, hoping the night held no more surprises, because he was unbelievably content.

"Do you trust me enough to, say, tell me what you really got Kaden for Christmas?"

"An air fryer," Jackson said dryly.

"And…?" Ellery teased.

"And you'll see when we visit them for Christmas," Jackson said primly. "Are we going to fight about it?"

Ellery chuckled. "No," he said. "You're incorrigible, and I love you like that."

Jackson held him close, his back to Jackson's front, and together they watched the fire burn itself down.

They had plenty of fuel for the future.