Jazz dropped his backpack where he stood and surveyed the small flat he shared with Adam. Even when he frowned, he was something beautiful to behold, Adam thought, but then, he supposed he was a little bit prejudiced. "Does the place look different to you?"

"No," Adam replied, respecting Jazz' opinion enough to give the apartment a cursory once-over. "Why?"

Jazz shrugged. "Just a feeling."

"What kind of feeling, Nick?"

"Like somebody's been here."

Adam blinked. "Now we're getting into Dad's territory. Think I should give him a call?"

"Maybe." Jazz yawned and stretched his arms so widely, he nearly toppled over. "Or not. I'm sleepy. Take me to bed."

"What do I look like? Your slave?" Adam teased, admitting privately that the idea of being Jazz' slave did hold a certain appeal.

"I'm weak from hunger," Jazz pouted. "Feed me and put me to bed. In that order, please."

Adam brushed his lover's hair back from his face and smiled. "You're so cute when you order me around."

"Cute? I don't want to be *cute*. Now *powerful*…that I could get into."

Adam nudged his lips apart with his tongue and kissed him. Slowly. Deeply. Till his toes curled and his groin ached. "I could get into *you*," Adam whispered.

"Mmm…" Jazz lost himself in that thought without any difficulty at all. Winding his arms around Adam's neck, he used the leverage to pull Adam close enough to feel the arousal that throbbed between them.

Jazz wanted to make love, but his stomach interrupted with a noisy growl. Adam laughed and buried his face in Jazz' long silky hair. "Think we can afford pizza?"

"I hope so," Jazz said fervently. "If we can't, I might have to do something desperate. Like sell my body or something."

"Now I know you're kidding, Nick, cause you don't sleep with anyone but *me*." Adam kissed him, more gently than before, and Jazz sighed happily. Hooking a leg around Adam's waist, Jazz pressed his rampant erection against his mate's answering hardness. Without stopping to undress, Jazz thrust his hips into the warm space between his lover's legs.

"Hey, wait a minute! Who's doing laundry this week?"

"Me. So make me come in my pants and I'll just add a little extra bleach to the wash."

"Niicckkk…"

"Make me come quick…so I can eat something."

"Damn, stop giving me ideas, Nick."

Jazz gasped loudly as Adam's hand slipped inside his jeans and caressed his dick. "More," the younger man choked out.

"Greedy little slut, aren't you?"

"A-dammm…"

Adam bent his head and licked his lover's mouth. Jazz twitched in his arms and came all over his hand. Adam pulled his wet hand out of Jazz' jeans and swiped it across Jazz' face. Still quivering, Jazz rubbed his wet cheek against Adam's. Adam slid his mouth down the side of Jazz' neck and sucked hard, raising a bluish-purple welt that marked the otherwise perfect skin as his.

The front of Jazz' jeans was damp, but Adam liked the way it felt. He was a breath away from coming, and then suddenly he was there, pumping hard against his lover's groin. "Love you," Adam murmured, punctuating his declaration with a soft grunt.

"Me, too," Jazz whispered, his bright green eyes falling shut of their own accord.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me. We'll get stuck together."

"I can think of worse things," Jazz said drowsily. Damned if he didn't look beautiful this way, too, Adam thought. Ignoring his lover's feeble protests, Adam picked him up in his arms and carried him into the bedroom.

"What are you doing?" Jazz exclaimed, his voice muffled against Adam's neck.

"Taking care of what's mine," Adam said possessively.

Jazz struggled to focus his verdant green eyes on Adam's face. "You going to undress me, too?"

"Uh huh."

"I don't think I'm going to be able to stay awake for the pizza."

"No problem. We'll just…eat…later," Adam said with a definite purr.

Jazz grinned as his long straight hair fell into his eyes. "Aren't you an optimist?"

Adam gave him an enigmatic half-smile as he pulled down the zipper on Jazz' jeans. "Oh, I don't know. You usually manage to live up to my expectations…"

"Who?" Emmy asked, a perplexed look momentarily obscuring her beauty.

"*Carlos*. You said Carlos," Chris reiterated.

Emmy shrugged. "I don't remember."

Sasha questioned, "Was it a dream, Em? Or a…you know…vision thingy?"

His sister shook her head. "I don't know. Must have been a dream, though. Otherwise, I'd remember it, right?"

"Maybe," Chris said, looking troubled.

"What?" Emmy queried impatiently, not caring for the way Chris was reacting.

"Nothing," Chris said with a somewhat sullen expression. At times like these, he resembled no one more than his mother. Emmy sighed. And as stubborn as Nikita could be about giving up on something, her son was ten times worse.

"Toshhhh…" Emmy warned.

"Soleillll…" Chris drawled her nickname in his low sensual voice, but Emmy heard only what her heart told her. Chris was *jealous*. Of someone she couldn't even *remember*.

"You don't need to be jealous-"

"I'm not!"

Sasha rolled his eyes and grabbed Skye by the hand. "Sounds like our cue to take off, Ange. This is about to become a real *private* conversation."

Skye's light blue eyes twinkled with mischief. "But I want to hearrr…"

Sasha kissed her, a mere brush of his mouth against hers that quickly turned into a conflagration of sorts. "You want to come upstairs with me?" he asked breathlessly.

"In your room?" Skye's eyes widened with equal parts surprise and passion. "What about your folks?"

"They've been very…um…understanding…lately," Sasha whispered, nuzzling her cheek affectionately.

Skye melted against Sasha for one brief moment before drawing back with a soft groan. "You do like to live dangerously."

"Nahhh…living dangerously would be going to *your* room. Even *I'm* not that brave."

Chris was sulking. There were no two ways about it. It wasn't a particularly attractive trait of his, but he came by it naturally. His father was a world-class brooder, and Chris definitely took after his father in that regard.

"So…what's this guy look like?"

"What guy?"

"*Carlos*," Chris ground out. For a second, Emmy could swear that she heard his teeth grinding together. Now that was Chris. Always under rigid control. Well, she reminded herself silently, not *always*.

"I don't remember."

"Yes, you do. You just don't want to tell me."

"I said what I meant, Chris. Now cut it out."

"Is he good-looking?"

"I don't-" She stopped when she saw the genuine anguish in Chris' eyes. He didn't hide quite as well as his father. "Yes. He is."

"Thought you didn't remember," he snapped.

"Do you want me to lie to you?"

"No," Chris whispered. "I couldn't take that."

"This…guy…Carlos…I have no idea why I was dreaming about him, okay?"

"You *really* don't know him?"

"I really don't know him."

Chris reached out for her then, and she pulled his head against her breast, much the way she would have comforted his younger brother Luc. If Luc would actually allow such a thing, she snorted mentally.

"I don't want to lose you," Chris said, his muffled voice still managing to convey his insecurity and hurt.

"You won't." She pressed a kiss to the top of his head and exhaled slowly, her breath ruffling the silky blond strands under her chin. "You *can't*."

"I won't let anyone come between us, Soleil," Chris vowed in a surprisingly harsh whisper. "We *will* be together."

"Always." Emmy closed her eyes and smiled. But her peaceful expression would have been instantly shattered if she could have seen the willful look on her lover's face.

"And forever." It was an inadvertent distortion of the pledge that Emmy's parents made to one another time and time again. But Chris meant it.

And that made him almost as dangerous as his father.

"Luc, that's the third piece of toast you've eaten in five minutes. What on earth is the matter with you?" Nikita frowned at her youngest son and mentally calculated how he was going to single-handedly eat them out of house and home by the time he became a teenager.

Luc shrugged. "I'm hungry," he said by way of explanation. Aren't most kids? He seemed to be asking with those expressive eyes that reminded his mother of Michael.

Nikita sighed. "Well, if you don't get a move on, you're going to miss your father," she reminded him.

Today was a special day for Michael. He was going into Paris for a book signing. That in and of itself was nothing particularly new. But the book signing was tied into a major promotional campaign. For a movie based on his latest bestseller. As soon as the rights were optioned, Michael grew concerned. Until now, his anonymity had been protected. People thought he was reclusive or shy or eccentric, but they didn't know that his background in covert operations was completely genuine. Nor would they, if he had anything to say about it. Michael loved his family too much to jeopardize their safety.

However, the new movie, which had yet to be cast, was something of a risk. Michael didn't like a situation that he couldn't control every aspect of, and this was exactly that. Nevertheless, when Luc asked if he could spend the day with his father, Michael was as thrilled as he was surprised. Luc was unlike any of his other children, except for an alarming tendency to behave like Adam when he didn't get his own way.

The fact that Luc wanted to be with his father was…well, heartwarming. Especially since he was at the age where he was just as likely to rebel. Just for the proverbial hell of it.

"I'm going, I'm going," Luc hastily assured Nikita, grabbing one more slice of toast to take with him. Hey, he was a growing boy, after all.

Luc chattered incessantly all the way to Paris. By the time they arrived at the bookstore, Michael had a slight headache. He was justifiably proud of his kids, but his mind needed to be on what was going to happen shortly. And right now, Luc was an undeniable distraction.

"Luc! Luc!"

Luc flushed and bit his lip. "Sorry, Daddy. It's just kinda exciting, you know?"

"I know, Luc. I do. I have to concentrate a little, though, okay?"

Luc nodded affirmatively and deliberately lengthened his stride to keep up with his much taller father. A tall brunette woman glided forth and clasped Michael's arm possessively. "I'm so glad you're on time. I was afraid that you weren't going to come…" she said, allowing her genteel voice to fade dramatically.

Michael shook his head. "This is my son, Luc."

"Of course. How are you, Luc?" Luc glanced up at the older woman and took an instant dislike to her. "Who are you?" he asked belligerently.

"I'm Madame Fourget. Hasn't your daddy mentioned me?" the woman asked in an almost obsequiously gracious tone that suggested a razor-sharp manipulative mind lay beneath the surface.

"Nope," Luc replied blithely. He was still young enough to get away with being rude, but he was mature enough for his age that he knew exactly what he was doing.

"What a charming child," the woman commented insincerely.

"Perhaps it would be best if Luc waited for me in the children's book section," Michael suggested, darting an arch glance at his son. I know very well what you're thinking, that look said, but don't you dare say another word.

"Okay," Luc said obediently.

Four hours and three coloring books and two jigsaw puzzles later, Luc was bored out of his mind. "Daddddd…" he whined at Michael's elbow. "I'm hungry."

"You had breakfast," Michael said absently, signing yet another book with a fictitious name. Photographs weren't allowed. That was one policy that was strictly enforced, and he began to wish that he had brought Davenport with him. Davenport was good with kids. Even his kids.

"But I'm hungry. Thirsty, too."

"Then get something to drink."

"Dadddd…I wanna go. This is stupid."

"Luc, I'll be done soon. This is very important," Michael whispered under his breath.

"That's what you said when we got here." Luc wasn't usually fractious. He could be a great many things, but his general temperament was remarkably like Michael's.

"Hush."

"Daddy!"

"Luc, go sit down. I don't want to hear another word out of you."

And astonishingly, he didn't.

There were two kinds of people in the organization. Leaders and followers. Carlos was a leader. He hadn't achieved his position without considerable sturm und drang, but he managed to hold onto it with surprisingly little effort. "I do not intimidate people," he told his right-hand man.

"Yes, you do."

"Do not."

"Do, too," his associate said, sticking out his tongue childishly.

"Now what am I supposed to do with someone like you?" Carlos asked rhetorically.

Gabriel smiled mysteriously and crooked a finger in Carlos' direction. "You give me ideas, querido."

Carlos laughed. "You try too hard, chico. You're no more Spanish than she is."

"I could be. If you wanted me to," Gabriel said suggestively, running his hand down Carlos' side to the top of his black mission pants.

Carlos considered that for a moment, then said, "Nahhh, I like you just the way you are, man."

"You sure?"

"Certo." And with that, Carlos surreptitiously pressed a kiss to the younger man's cheek. The fact that his tongue flicked out to caress the corner of Gabriel's mouth was not lost on either of them, however.

"Later?"

"We'll see."

Neil managed to caress the back of Ned's hand while pretending to browse
through the Medical Reference Section of the bookstore. Ned's large brown
eyes flickered interestedly in Neil's direction before returning to the page
in front of him.

After two more supposedly inadvertent touches, however, Ned shut his book
and stared pointedly at his lover. "Are you trying to get my attention?"

"What? Oh, did you say something?" Neil wasn't as unaffected by Ned's
proximity as he seemed, but Ned didn't see any need to mention it. In fact,
he was beginning to enjoy the way Neil's customary control was slowly
unraveling. Considering how resistant Neil had been to forming a romantic
relationship with anyone, Ned privately thought it was a bloody miracle that
Neil had come so far.

"Do you actually read this type of thing?" Ned asked, casting a quick glance
at titles like The Ultimate Ramifications of Uncontrolled Hypertension and
Bipolar Disorder: A Psychological Treatise in Thirteen Parts. Thirteen
parts? Good Lord, he didn't want that much information on anything. Except
perhaps Neil.

Neil grinned. "Yes, I do. Would you be happier over in the Business
section?"

Ned hid a shy smile. "Only if you come with me."

Neil chuckled. "You want me to hold your hand, Neddy?"

Ned leaned forward until their bodies were almost touching, and he could
swear that he felt Neil straining to close the gap between them. "Wasn't
that what you were trying to do a few minutes ago?"

"Not exactly."

"Oh, was there something else you wanted to hold then?" Ned asked coyly.

Neil rapidly surveyed the area and noted that they were virtually alone in
this part of the store. With a sigh, he pulled Ned into his arms and kissed
him. Part of Ned's mind went, My God, he's kissing me in public! But the
other part was quite content to succumb to the urgency in his lover's
kisses.

When they finally broke away, Neil was breathing hard. "Wow. I obviously
underestimated the power of a good reference book as an aphrodisiac."

Ned buried his face against Neil's neck and murmured, "If that's why you
kissed me like that, keep reading."

"Luc?" When there was no answer, Michael frowned and started to make his way
around the bookstore. It was a big place for a relatively small boy to get
lost in, but Michael wasn't worried. He knew that for all of Luc's
insubordination, he would never leave the store itself. So it was merely a
matter of discovering where his son had hidden himself.

He was bored. That probably meant that Luc had gone looking for something to
pique his interest. A toy, a game…

Michael ignored the prickle of apprehension that began to penetrate his
tired brain and told his alter ego, affectionately nicknamed Spy Boy, to
shut up. "Luc?" he called again.

After a couple more sweeps of the store, he sighed. Okay, now he could admit
that he was growing a little concerned. He was trained in reconnaissance.
There was no way he had missed the more obvious places that Luc might have
hidden. So it was time for him to start looking in the more out-of-the-way
places.

He found a stockroom clearly marked For Employees Only and stopped in front
of it. Luc couldn't be in there. It was probably locked. It had a sign
that…

…Luc couldn't read.

No, that couldn't be right. Luc was a very smart boy. He excelled at
reading. Even a word like employee wouldn't be unknown to him. That left one
other possibility.

That Luc read the sign and…

…found it an irresistible challenge.

That sounded more like his son.

"You think Connor would like this?" Neil held up a book on classical music.
Ned shook his head. "I think he's got enough textbooks. He's a music major."

"Well, what would he like?"

"Besides Faith?" Ned teased.

Neil snorted derisively. "My son needs absolutely no encouragement in that
particular area, thank you very much."

"I-"

Suddenly they both heard it. An anguished noise that was too low to be a
scream, but too familiar not to make their skin crawl. "Michael!"

It didn't take them long to find him. Or what caused him to make such an
uncharacteristic sound.

"Jesus, Michael. Let me have him," Neil commanded.

Michael blinked away tears and offered Neil his unconscious son with shaking
hands. "He's breathing. I think."

Neil placed the young boy flat on the carpet and waved Michael back. "Give
me some room to work here, Michael." Neil was so completely focused on Luc,
he missed the look of utter helplessness in Michael's eyes.

But Ned didn't. The younger man moved close enough to put an arm around
Michael's shoulders, knowing full well that Michael wasn't an easy man to
read. Nor was he given to being touched. He only hoped that Michael
considered him part of the family now, by extension, if nothing else. "Are
you okay?" he asked softly.

Michael squeezed his eyes shut before opening them again. His eyes were wet,
but he wasn't crying. Yet. He was a strong man, and he thought he was
invulnerable. But when his family was threatened, Michael couldn't trust
himself to stay behind that blank façade that had served him so well back in
Section.

"What's wrong with him?"

Neil glanced at Ned sympathetically, glad once again that he had found such
a kind, caring companion to share his life. "Not sure." Neil bent his head
and sniffed. "That's what I thought."

"What's what you thought?" Michael demanded. "Tell me something." Anything.

"His breath. It smells sweet."

"Of course it does. He's a little boy, for God's sake."

Neil nodded. "He's also something else. Unless I miss my guess, he's
diabetic."

"Will he be okay?" Michael whispered, too horrified to ask what he was
really thinking. Will he die? Will I have to tell my wife that her son is
going to die? Am I going to lose another child? And how am I going to
survive this if he does?

"I don't know, Michael. Right now, we need to get him to a hospital."

"Of course."

"I'm calling an ambulance," Ned said, pulling out his cell phone.

"Thanks," Neil said, smiling gratefully.

Now there was nothing anyone could do. But wait.

"Can't you do something?"

"Not without knowing what his blood sugar is, Michael."

"But-"

"If he's too low and we give him insulin, it could kill him."

Michael gasped involuntarily.

"Besides," Neil added, "it's not like I carry insulin with me."

Michael's haunted expression told Neil something Michael would never say.
What good are you then? If you can't help him, can't you at least tell me
what I should be doing? Aside from waiting. I hate waiting. I'm really bad
at it. It makes me feel so…so…out of control.

Neil rubbed Michael's shoulder sympathetically and noticed with considerable
relief that the ambulance had arrived. "Hey…they're here."

"Thank God," Michael muttered, a fierce look on his face. He looked ready to
take on anyone who got between him and his son.

The EMS team was quick and thorough. They assessed Luc after listening
somberly to what Neil had to tell them. Which admittedly wasn't very much.
They moved Luc into the ambulance with almost ruthless efficiency.

Now came the hard part. Telling Nikita.

Michael held Luc's hand all the way to the hospital. He was so intent on
watching the rise and fall of his son's chest that he couldn't focus on
anything else. Not even calling his wife. His rhythmic whispering could mean
only one thing.

Michael Samuelle was praying.

To a God who had once taken away everything…and given him back just as
much.

Neil tossed his cell phone to his lover and slid into the front seat of his
car. "I have to follow the ambulance. Michael's in no shape to answer
questions right now. Call Nikita. Tell her to meet us at the hospital…and
Ned?"

Ned nodded, the silky fall of his long brown hair masking his expression for
a moment or two.

"Don't tell her why yet."

Ned frowned. "What if she asks me, Neil?"

""I don't want her getting into an accident on the way here. Do you
understand, love?"

The set of Ned's mouth tightened perceptibly as he registered the
seriousness of the situation. "Yes. Neil, she shouldn't have to drive
herself. Maybe I should-"

"-tell Declan," Neil finished for him. "Good idea."

But it wasn't Declan who ended up driving a distraught Nikita to the
hospital. It was Adam.

"I hate to take you away from school like this, Adam-" Nikita whispered.

"Don't worry about it, Mom."

Nikita winced at the sound of that word on her stepson's lips. Adam glanced
at her briefly and swore under his breath. "Sorry, Nikita," he said more
formally.

"Oh, Adam, I didn't mean to…" her voice trailed off as she thought, I
don't want to set our own relationship back to…back to… She struggled to
stay in the moment, but her mind was tortured by flashes of all the possible
futures that she might have to endure. Futures without Luc.

"I'm driving as fast as I can," Adam said, his dark brown eyes flickering
over the road before him.

Suddenly Nikita seized him by the arm and dug her nails into his skin. "Be
careful," she said hoarsely. "Please."

"I will, I will. I mean, I wouldn't let anything happen to you, Nik. You
know that, right?"

Nikita's eyes grew wet as she gazed at the handsome young man Michael's son
had turned into. "I hope you already know this, but…I care about you, too,
Adam."

Adam swiped a hand over his face and returned to staring at the bleak
landscape in front of him. She was going to make him cry, dammit, and he
didn't want that. It was so hard to see where he was going when he had tears
in his eyes. She didn't need to see that. She probably didn't think he could
possibly care about what happened to Luc. But he did.

Luc might be her kid. But he was also Adam's brother. Adam had grown up as
an only child, but he knew what belonging to someone meant. Especially now
that he had Jazz in his life permanently.

They were each other's family in a way that no one else could be.

But Luc was important in a way that was different from Jazz. He shared a
blood tie with Luc. He shared Michael with him. And God only knew that was
probably the biggest thing in Adam's young life.

But it didn't make Jazz any less important to Adam. If anything, it made him
wish that Jazz was there with him.

He needed a hug. A big one. And he had a feeling he was going to need a
whole lot more before this was over.