When Jazz didn't immediately return, Carlos wondered if he had pushed too hard too soon. He was good at seduction, and this should have been an easy mission to complete. But either he was losing his taste for co-opting the young and vulnerable...or he was seriously underestimating the boy's mettle. It wouldn't do if Jazz ran. That would greatly complicate things.

For one thing, his primary objective was to use Jazz any way possible...to lure *someone else* out of hiding. Someone far more important than Jazz. Someone who would be almost impossible to find any...other...way.

Carlos didn't know *why* Margaret wanted the boy. It wasn't his place to know. His priority was the mission. To operate with near-complete autonomy. But always answering to a higher power. And it wasn't *God*.

Even if *she* thought she was.

*****

Adam shut his textbook and gazed sightlessly at the empty bedroom. He needed to get out. Jazz' phone call had been anything but reassuring. Adam had felt an odd sense of disquiet pouring off his lover, and now that he was alone with his thoughts, he couldn't settle.

He didn't want to call him back. He didn't want Jazz to think he didn't trust him. He did. But he knew when Jazz was hurt and this went beyond mere separation anxiety.

Suddenly he couldn't stay in the bedroom one more second. He jumped to his feet and grabbed his jacket. He was going out. He didn't know where, but he was going to walk till he ended up somewhere that felt better than this.

*****

Adam shouldn't have been surprised to find himself back home. It was the only place where things that didn't make sense eventually became clear.

There was a small group gathered around the TV in the Samuelle living room. A couple of kids, some of whom actually belonged there, but Nikita was there, too. The tall blonde cast a careful eye over her stepson and patted the cushion next to her on the sofa. "Have a seat."

Adam stood in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot, as though he wasn't quite sure about coming all the way in.

Nikita cocked her head curiously at Adam. "Something wrong?"

"Not...exactly."

"Hmm...you sound like your father. It's not a crime to have feelings, Adam."

"I know. I'm just--I don't know what to say."

"Why don't you sit down and we can talk?" Again Nikita patted the sofa and again Adam hesitated.

"It's silly."

Nikita rolled her expressive blue eyes. "The only thing that's *silly* is you staying way over there and not knowing when it's okay to talk about what's bothering you."

"I miss him," Adam blurted out, his face flaming at the admission.

"Of course you do, Adam. There's nothing strange or wrong with that."

"He hasn't been gone that long."

"Missing someone isn't always a function of *time*, honey. Is there something else you want to tell me?"

Adam shook his head and approached the sofa. He sat down on the edge almost primly, as though he feared physical contact with the older woman. But Nikita was perceptive as well as compassionate. She pulled on Adam's rigid body until he literally fell over, landing with his head in her lap.

"You shouldn't--"

"Ssh...I know."

"I have to be strong this time. I can't fall apart every time we're not together. This is stupid. It's...it's..." Adam sputtered valiantly till he finally lost the battle with himself. Nikits stroked his hair as he buried his face against her thigh and cried.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not. I'm not a kid anymore," Adam choked out.

"No, you're nearly 21. Doesn't make it hurt any less, though," she said sympathetically.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Adma whispered, swiping angrily at his cheeks.

"Why wouldn't I be? I love you--"

"Something's wrong," he said with a sniffle.

"What is it?"

"I don't know. But he doesn't sound like himself."

"Neither do you. Maybe he misses you, too."

"That's what *he* said."

"Maybe he's right."

"What if he's not?"

"Adam...what would make you feel better?"

"Being there with him," he whispered.

"Then why don't you go to London?"

"I can't. I've got classes--"

"Maybe your father can pull a few strings."

"You think he'd do that for me?"

"Adam...don't you know yet there's nothing your father wouldn't do for you?"

"You think I should go?"

"I think you should do whatever makes you happy."

"I think...I should stay here and let Nick take care of himself," Adam declared bravely, ignoring the unshed tears that even now glistened in his dark eyes.

"And *I* think you deserve a really big hug for coming up with that on your own," Nikita said, holding her arms open wide.

Adam sank gratefully into her embrace and closed his eyes. Nikita met Luc's concerned look over Adam's head and warned him without saying a single word. She was certain that Adam would be embarrassed if he realized that Luc was watching him. But she hadn't counted on the unexpectedly intense bond between Luc and his older brother.

Luc crept out of the room quietly and knocked on his father's office door. He rarely disturbed his father when that door was closed, but he needed to see him, reassure himself of something.

Michael registered his youngest son's presence with a smile. "Allo, Luc."

He turned to face Luc, and Luc sat down on the floor next to Michael's chair, his dark auburn head bent over his drawn-up knees.

"Daddy?"

To Michael, Luc's posture seemed curious. The eight-year old was almost always filled with an irrepressible energy. Rarely had he seen him this serious. "Yes, Luc?"

"Do heroes ever get scared?"

Michael blinked, but he didn't stop to wonder where Luc's question came from. This was evidently the product of much thought on his part.

"Yes, Luc, they do."

Luc looked up at his father with tragic dark green eyes. "But Daddy, how can they be heroes if they're scared?"

"That's what makes them brave."

"I don't understand."

"A hero is someone who feels fear...but does what needs to be done anyway."

"Oh." Luc  digested this new piece of information for a moment. "Do *you* ever get scared?"

Michael resisted the urge to pick up his son and hold him in his arms, this child of his heart and Nikita's. "Yes, Luc."

"Really?"

Michael nodded. There was a very long pause before Luc wrapped his arms around his father's knee and held onto him for dear life. "You'll always be my hero, Daddy. And if you ever get scared, I'll try to be brave and protect you, too."

Michael swiped surreptitiously at his eyes with one hand and stroked Luc's hair with the other. "Thank you," he said huskily.

After several long moments, Michael wondered if Luc had fallen asleep. But Luc sighed and raised his head to reveal tear-streaked cheeks.

"What's wrong, Luc?"

"I think Adam's...scared, Daddy. I think...maybe he needs us..."

"Why is that?"

"Cause he's my hero, too, and...and...he's being brave and all, but Daddy, Jazz isn't home and he's...um...all upset."

Michael suppressed a sigh. Adam was upset? And he hadn't come to *him*?

"What did he say? Where was he?"

"Downstairs. Talking to Mommy." Michael stood up so suddenly that Luc lost his grip on his father's leg. "Daddy? You're not going to yell at Adam, are you?"

"No," Michael said, making a conscious effort to soften his voice. "I...want to tell him something."

"What?" Luc asked.

"That...he's *my* hero, too."

Jazz strode into the museum's main office as if he owned it. There was no trace at all of his earlier attack of nerves, something that initially knocked Carlos off-balance. However, he was used to the unexpected, and he quickly recovered. "Well," he drawled, "you were gone so long, I was about to send out a search party."

Jazz' bright green gaze flickered for only a moment. He shrugged and started to gather the files that were scattered across his desk.

"Did you have some sort of an accident while you were gone, or are you no longer speaking to me?" Carlos asked dryly.

"Y'know, you're not nearly as interesting as you think you are," Jazz snapped.

"Ah, so you *can* speak. Was it something I said?" Carlos seemed more amused than anything else, and that angered the younger man.

"I didn't realize that sleeping with you was part of my internship."

Carlos snorted. "I seem to have ruffled your feathers, Jazz. Shall we start over?"

"You and I are never going to be anything but two people who work together," Jazz declared, pointing a finger at the older man.

"That…remains to be seen."

"That…sounded like another threat."

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Jazz. If I had any designs on your apparent virginity, I certainly wouldn't be *obvious* about it."

At the mention of the state of his sexuality, Jazz flushed involuntarily, the only hint that he was not as controlled as he seemed. "Well, I'm not interested."

"So I see. Would you still like a cup of coffee?"

Jazz gritted his teeth. "You probably think that's funny."

"Not at all. Actually, I'm finding this entire conversation a bit tiresome. Why don't you go back to work?"

Little boy. That was what Jazz heard in his head. That utterly dismissive tone rankled like nothing else had. But he forced himself not to respond. Adam would be so proud of me, he thought. All those times he accused me of reacting and overreacting, I bet he never dreamed that I could hold myself back this way. Maybe Adam's starting to rub off on me.

That last thought provoked a decidedly unwelcome sensation in his groin. Oh, well, so much for control, Jazz said to himself.

Carlos folded his arms across his chest and settled against the edge of the desk to watch Jazz walk away. What a shame that Jazz wasn't more willing to be seduced. He had a feeling he was going to regret not bedding this one.

His cellphone vibrated gently inside the pocket of his exquisitely cut suit jacket. "Yes?" he answered.

Within seconds, he was speaking fluent Spanish to the man on the other end. After several tense exchanges, Carlos threw back his head and laughed. He missed Gabriel. It was a pity that the two of them had to be on opposite ends of this mission. He liked having him by his side. Watching his back.

But he would have been a terrible distraction. Now that he knew how much Gabriel cared, he was a constant temptation.

"Be good, caro," he said huskily. Then he replaced the phone in his jacket pocket with a heavy sigh. He'd never missed *anyone* before. That couldn't bode well for his longevity in Section.

Sometimes…but no, that was a foolish thought, brought on by the curious longing in his heart now to see Gabriel. To dream of escaping this life was…futile. There was only one way out…and he wasn't ready to take it yet.

Not while there was still a chance that he and Gabriel could be together. Somewhere. Someday.

For now there was only the mission. He was going to have to push harder on the boy. He didn't particularly want to, and that momentarily surprised him. But then he was changing, wasn't he? Because of the man he'd left behind.

He regretted not telling Gabriel that he loved him. Oh, he had his reasons, and they were always good ones, too. But just this once, he wished that he had broken his own code and given in to the feelings that even now threatened to overwhelm his equilibrium.

Carlos pinched the space between his eyebrows and winced. Bad headache coming. Probably from worrying himself into a frenzy over what was going to become of Gabriel if Margaret used Carlos' absence to make a move on him.

If she did, however…

…there was violence and vengeance and retribution.

But none of it would ease his heartache if Gabriel were gone.

Because he dared to love…

…he had to succeed.

"Gabriel, may I have a word with you?" It was unlike Margaret to *request* anything. It might sound polite on the surface, but there was no question that it was an *order*.

"Of course," he replied, forming his face into an impassive mask. She smiled in slow motion, or that was how it seemed to Gabriel. "What do you hear from Carlos?"

"Carlos? The mission is progressing as expected. It was a good profile. I—"

"Gabriel, if I wanted a report, I would have asked for one. I'm asking about *Carlos*."

"Carlos?"

"You know, Gabriel, if I didn't know better, I would think you were hiding something."

It was foolish to go on the defensive. It only made Margaret move in for the kill. "I *do* know better," he said firmly, praying that he wasn't being *too* aggressive. Carlos was an expert at pulling off this sort of thing. But Gabriel, for all his natural finesse with people, found Margaret intimidating.

"Good. We understand each other then. Now tell me about Carlos."

"Nothing to tell, really."

"That's not what I heard."

Gabriel caught himself before he demanded, What did you hear? He forced himself not to utter a word, knowing that Margaret would break the silence at any moment. She wanted to tell him something, he could see it in her eyes.

"Are you familiar with Carlos' POS?"

Gabriel struggled not to react, but he was terrified inside. He didn't like where this was going, and he couldn't see any way to avoid having this conversation.

"Percentage of success? Carlos is a Class 5 op—"

"I'm aware of that, Gabriel. But we both know he's not performing at that level, don't we?"

Gabriel wanted to run, and he was afraid that it showed on his face. "He's still top-rated, Margaret. He's still got resources we need." God, he could feel his mouth getting drier by the second.

"I…don't…know…" Margaret mused out loud, tapping an elegantly shaped fingertip against the side of her face.

"You're not thinking of putting him into Abeyance, are you?" Gabriel blurted out. That was bad. He had just betrayed himself and he couldn't possibly hope that Margaret missed that.

Margaret chuckled softly. "Do you know why you've never been promoted to 5, Gabriel?"

He didn't dare answer. There was no right answer. Not when she was in this mood.

"Because you're very useful right where you are."

Gabriel knew that wasn't a compliment. She was putting him on notice. His weakness, his attraction to Carlos had been duly noted and carefully archived in that razor-sharp mind of hers.

"Why, I bet you would do *anything* to protect him, wouldn't you?"

"No, it's not like that."

"Oh, you poor thing, it's *exactly* like that and we both know it."

Gabriel was willing to die. If that's what she wanted, no, *needed*, he would give his life, quite willingly, if it meant that Carlos would survive. But Margaret was an expert when it came to manipulation. Things were never what they seemed.

If she wanted Carlos dead, what Gabriel did wouldn't even enter into the scheme of things.

"What do you want?"

"Information. Why is Carlos taking so long to bring in the boy?"

"That wasn't the mission profile. Capturing the boy was merely a means to an end. You said you wanted the *other* one. That takes time."

"I'm not accustomed to waiting for what I ask for."

"If he moves too fast, the boy will bolt. Then the other one won't come for him. Then the mission is a failure." Gabriel recited the words flatly, forcing his fear to a hidden place deep inside of him.

"If he moves too slowly, *I* might lose what little patience I have left and cancel him."

"You wouldn't do that. If anyone can bring in the boy, it's Carlos. No one else is half as talented as he is."

"When it comes to romance."

"When it comes to *missions*. He does what he has to." Gabriel knew that he was flirting with danger, but he couldn't help it. Let her think that Carlos slept with her because he *wanted* to. He knew better. So did she, but she would never admit it.

"He won't be faithful to you," she said. That came out of nowhere, and he knew that his surprise showed. "He doesn't love *anyone*. But especially not *you*. As I said before, you're very *useful* where you are."

"Are you talking to me…or yourself?"

He was close to being terminated. He could feel the shadow of the executioner's blade hovering over his neck. But he valiantly pressed on.

"You're jealous. I've got a piece of him that you'll never have. No matter how long you own him."

To his astonishment, Margaret laughed. "That was very brave, Gabriel. But I'm afraid you've got it all wrong."

Gabriel blinked. "You don't own him?"

"Oh, I own him. And you, for that matter. But that wasn't what I meant."

"I don't understand."

Margaret slid closer and wound her finger around a lock of Gabriel's hair. "I *am* jealous," she whispered. "But not of *you*. Of *Carlos*."

Gabriel's eyes widened.

"You're the one I've been after all along."

Margaret tossed her long dark hair back and laughed with malevolent glee. Men were not always the most compliant of creatures, but they could be strangely predictable. Especially when love was involved. Gabriel undoubtedly knew that he was being skillfully manipulated, but he was off-balance. He was a good operative, but he was a follower, not a leader.

He was probably calling Carlos now.

She wished she could hear the fervent plea that Gabriel was most assuredly making. She could have wired him. But she liked using her imagination.

People said she was wicked.

They didn't know the half of it.

"You must be the boyfriend," Carlos drawled, a sardonic grin masking the fact that he had not in fact expected the target to show up early. Or without any warning. He made a mental note to call Gabriel again. The last time he tried dialing his cell phone, the line had been busy.

"And you must be the asshole," Adam returned smoothly, an equally sarcastic smile pulling at his lips.

Carlos chuckled. "Is that the best you can do, son?"

"Adam!" Jazz' cry caused both men to turn their heads sharply in his direction.

"I'll take care of this, Nick," Adam assured his lover. But Jazz looked even more frenzied than before. "You can't! I thought you were going to let me—"

"Well, to tell the truth, Nick, I was. But then I realized something. You can't do a single fucking thing right, can you?"

"Can you?"

"Can you?"

Jazz sat up straight in bed, his heart pounding. He brushed a shaky hand across his face, unsurprised to note that his eyes were wet. Adam trusted him. Didn't he?

As much as he wanted to be with him, he had to do this on his own. He had to.

He absolutely had to.

He rolled onto his side and pulled his pillow over his head, smothering a sniffle.

"She knows."

"What does she know?"

"I don't know exactly. But something."

"Could you be a trifle more specific, caro?"

Gabriel glanced nervously around him. No one seemed to be paying any attention to him. He had checked for surveillance, and he was clean. He knew he was.

Then how come he felt like someone was listening in? He gave his head a shake and chanted to himself. Rule Number One, There is *always* someone listening, Rule Number Two, Even if you think there isn't, there is, and Rule Number Three, See Rule Number One.

"She wants me."

"Of course she does, querido. Now isn't it a bit early for you to be panicking this way?"

Carlos' sarcasm washed over Gabriel like an ill wind that blew no good. "You don't believe me, but it's true—"

"And who told you this?"

"She did."

"And you believed her?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you suddenly assume she's telling you the truth?"

"Why do you think it's so impossible that she could want me?" Gabriel snapped back unthinkingly. For once Carlos' voice failed to soothe Gabriel. He wondered why he was so inexplicably angry…and then he knew.

"Caro," Carlos whispered into his ear.

"She set me up," Gabriel spat bitterly.

"You set yourself up, Gabriel."

"I hate you," Gabriel said hoarsely, reaching out with one trembling finger to terminate the call.

No, Carlos muttered under his breath. He threw his cell phone onto the desk with such ferocity that it literally shattered.

You love me.

That's what she knows.

tbc

Going home wasn't an option. He could get through this. He had been looking for an opportunity to prove himself. Here it was. He wasn't going to get a better chance to show that he could be mature…independent…serious.

And lonely as hell.

It was bad enough that he was suddenly thrust on his own without Adam. But he was in the middle of a situation that absolutely *had* to be dealt with.

Or he could quit.

Go home with his tail between his legs. Lean on Adam. Pretend that he didn't mind being a colossal screw-up.

No.

He couldn't.

Jazz straightened up, his entire body stiffening with newfound resolve. He stared his reflection right in the eye and said out loud, "You are *not* going to let him get away with this."

He smiled, and he was suddenly struck by how much more confident he felt. Jazz shook his head and the glint of the emerald stud in his ear caught his eye. It was a powerful reminder that he was loved.

He wasn't alone at all.

Not really.

Carlos pinched the bridge of his nose. Another headache. Just what he needed. He was worried. He who never worried about a fucking thing couldn't stop thinking about his last conversation with Gabriel.

Margaret was onto them. That was going to make his current situation…difficult.

He needed a clear head, but his head was filled with all the truly horrific things that Margaret could do to one or both of them.

He was of a mind to let the boy go. The pretty one, the one with the unconscious swagger and heat in those green eyes. But the trap had been set. And there were more things at stake here than a boy embarking on his first job away from home.

He just wished he could bring himself to care about those things.

"Sir?" Jazz hated the way his voice quavered. No one else could hear it, but he could. It betrayed how anxious he was, and he knew that this man would pick up on the slightest weakness.

Carlos forced a smile to his lips and contemplated the brave young soul before him. "Yes?"

"I'm…I'm here to do a job. Just that. Nothing…else. I…just wanted to get that straight." He winced at his choice of words, but he didn't think that would mean anything to Carlos.

He was wrong, of course, but Carlos managed to quell the grin that rose unbidden before it gave away what he was thinking.

"I see," Carlos said gravely, knowing that Jazz would take the worst possible meaning from it.

Jazz stepped back when Carlos' hand reached out to cup his chin. It was too intimate a gesture for Jazz to allow, and they both knew it. Carlos sighed and dropped his hand abruptly. "You should go home," he said huskily.

"I—" Jazz blinked in surprise. "I can't. That would be like…failing," Jazz spoke the last word in a whisper as if even the mere thought of giving up before he started was painful.

"Trust me, caro, there are worse things than failing."

Carlos closed his eyes and thought about Gabriel. He was alone with no one to watch his back. He was going to die at Margaret's hands.

Or worse.

Far worse.