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Jack carried on walking. Maybe that was what he wanted. For Zeph to break him, Zeph to be the reason he turned his life around, for Zeph to take a chance on him.

Zeph was already in bed. Jack stripped, used the bathroom, grabbed lube and climbed in beside him. “You awake?”

“Fast asleep.”

Jack pulled him sideways into a soft kiss, then rolled on top of him with Zeph pushed face down.

He slid his hands up Zeph’s arms, wrapped his fingers around his wrists and held him still.

Zeph might break him, but not in the way Thomas thought.

Jack slid his mouth to Zeph’s neck, loving the way Zeph moaned and arched into him.

“Can you be quiet?” Jack asked.

“Of course I bloody can’t.”

Jack laughed into Zeph’s neck. “Press your face harder into the pillow.”

“And suffocate myself?”

“I’ll give you mouth to mouth.”

“In that case.”

Jack landed a flurry of kisses down his back. “Try not to scream.”

Zeph groaned into the pillow.

When they set off to buy a tree the next morning, Jack wondered how long it would take for Zeph to register their location.

“What the…?” Zeph gasped.

Less than a minute.

“We’re in Middleton? Your old house? What was all that about a blindfold then?”

“A joke.” Not quite.

“Right. I need to buy presents for Thomas and Django.”

“The local garden centre’s as good as anywhere. Unless you’re desperate to go into town.”

“No,” Zeph said quickly. “Not that I’m bothered if I bump into any of my family, but I’d rather I didn’t. What sort of thing would Thomas like?”

A 9mm Glock? A Gerber Sedulo knife? “A book.”

“Fiction? Non-fiction?”

“He likes trees as well as weather.”

“Does he have a cloud-spotters book?”

“Not that I know of.” Though he doubted Thomas could sit still long enough to watch clouds. “Let’s find a Christmas tree first. I suspect there might not be many left.”

“Will an artificial one do?”

“If there are no others.”

Jack pulled into the garden centre car park close to a marquee. There were a few bedraggled trees lying by the wrapping machine, but they were too long to get in the car.

“Too big, too tatty, too sad,” Zeph said. “Neither decorations nor lights would save any of them. I feel mean not wanting them but I want to make Thomas happy.”

“Artificial then.”

They headed inside.

Zeph grabbed a trolley. “Tree first, then decorations.”

Jack checked out the artificial trees that were left. He didn’t think Thomas would go for pink, but any of these boxed trees would fit in the car. “Which do you think?”

When Zeph didn’t answer, Jack turned. For a moment, he wondered what Zeph was staring at, then he saw Alice and Georgia. Alice had seen Zeph but the others hadn’t. Jack wasn’t sure whether to let this play out or pull Zeph away.

The choice was taken from him. First Zeph’s father, then his stepmother faced them. A moment later, the pair turned their backs. The shits.

Zeph returned to Jack’s side with his lips pressed together. Jack put his arm over Zeph’s shoulder. “Want a kiss?” he whispered. “Your stepsisters are looking.”

Zeph grabbed Jack’s face and kissed him. One short, sweet kiss before Zeph pulled away.

“Not pink.” Zeph stared pointedly at the trees on display.

“This one’s not bad. It’s reduced. And not pink.”

“Pre-lit so no need to buy lights.” Zeph put it on the bottom shelf of the trolley.

The speed with which Zeph picked out packs of decorations, a star for the top of the tree, a cloud spotting book for Thomas and a chewable banana for Django told Jack he was keen to get out there.

Though Zeph’s family was at the till when they reached it.

Jack wondered if Zeph would retreat but he didn’t.

Alice looked at Jack, then Zeph, and gave a little wave. Jack wasn’t sure Zeph had seen it. But he almost felt Zeph exhale when the four of them left the store.

“At least I know nothing’s changed,” Zeph said. “Not that I imagined it would.” He added wrapping paper and tape to the haul. “I’ll pay for everything. It’s my fault Thomas has no tree. You were going to stay with him somewhere else where he does have one, weren’t you?”

That was sharp. “Yes. Thomas is playing safe.”

By the time they got back to the house, Zeph was happy again. Jack and Zeph put the tree together and though Thomas grumbled about it not being real, Jack thought it looked good. Django was still glued to Zeph’s side. He couldn’t even go to the toilet without the dog following.

“Is Zeph well?” Thomas asked quietly after Zeph had left the room.

“Yes, why?”

“Because dogs can sense when someone’s sick. Zeph didn’t have any wine. Is he taking medicine?”

“I’ve not seen any.” Now Jack worried. “He hasn’t said anything.”

“It may be nothing.”

Zeph came back, Django on his heels.

“Do you want to put the presents under the tree?” Jack asked.

Zeph gave a shocked gasp. “Santa brings them.”

Thomas laughed. “No night visitors allowed. Not even Santa.”

Zeph went to bed early again and Jack thought about asking if he was well. If he wasn’t, would he tell him? Jack watched Die Hard with Thomas, then they put the presents under the tree. Jack had carried down the ones Zeph had bought. Zeph was fast asleep, a little comma in the bed.

Thomas came back in after taking Django out and the dog ran straight up the stairs.

“One guess where he’s going,” Thomas said.

“You want him down here?”

“It’s fine. He senses something about Zeph. Leave him be. He’s being protective. Night, Jack.”

“Night.”

Jack woke when Zeph got out of bed.

“Go back to sleep,” Zeph whispered. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

Once Zeph was at his side, he slept again.

The next time he woke, it was different.

Zeph lay beside him. Jack opened his eyes, willing them to adjust to the darkness as fast as possible.

He could have been mistaken about why he’d woken, but he didn’t believe so.

He slid out of bed, pulling on his jeans as he moved to the window.

Through the side of the curtain, he caught a glance of a shadowy figure, and mentally cursed.

Somehow, they’d silenced Thomas’s alarm system and they’d be finding a way inside.

When Thomas came into the bedroom, Jack nodded. He’d known it could only be Thomas. Whoever was coming was not yet in the house.

Thomas handed Jack a gun. “Get Zeph and Django into the attic.”

Jack stuffed the gun into the back of his jeans. When he put his hand on Zeph’s mouth, his eyes flashed open.

“Listen. Don’t speak. Take the dog to the top floor. No lights. Hide in one of the side cupboards. Don’t come out until I come. Go now.”

To Zeph’s credit, he did exactly as he was told. Django followed him. As the door by the mirror closed on Zeph, Jack heard footsteps downstairs.

Thomas held up four fingers. Jack nodded.

The intruders were quiet. Professionals.

There would likely be others outside. Thomas moved to one of the guest rooms. Jack bunched up the covers in his room to make it look as though he was still in bed and positioned himself behind the door, his foot ready to stop it being slammed into his face.

The men were no longer making much effort to be silent. Jack heard a door bang. The room Thomas slept in. Someone swore. Not Thomas. There was the muffled sound of men snapping instructions and Jack revised his first impressions. Not professionals. He waited for them to come to him.

The moment the guy rushed in, Jack was on him.

He wrapped his arm around the man’s neck and pressed hard into the trachea.

The consequent compression of the carotid arteries shut off the blood supply to the brain.

Jack had his hand over the man’s mouth to prevent the others hearing him cry out.

Ten seconds before he’d lose consciousness, less than that to break his neck, so that was what Jack did, then quietly lowered him to the floor.

He could have shot him more easily, but when the number of assailants was unknown, better to disable as many as possible before the intruders realised they needed a different approach.

The next man into the room didn’t go down so easily.

Even worse, there was another man behind him with his gun out.

Jack spun round, elbowed the first guy in the solar plexus and kicked the other in the head.

Thank you, Muay Thai boxing. As the latter reeled away, Jack brought his left fist down on the barrel of the gun the other was holding, knocking it down, though not out of the guy’s hand.

He swept his leg out and the man staggered and fell.

But only into Jack’s arms. He twisted the hand holding the gun, pressed the finger on the trigger and he shot the man’s teammate.

No point in being quiet now. Two shots in the chest, one in the head for both of them.

Jack threw their weapons across the room and took out his own.

As he edged out of the bedroom, Thomas emerged from his.

Hand signals indicated Thomas had dispatched one, Jack three.

They both stood and listened. Jack pointed down and Thomas nodded.

Another guy was downstairs. Maybe with friends. Too dangerous to assume otherwise.

If they went down the stairs, they’d be easily picked off.

Jack indicated what he planned and Thomas nodded.

The bedroom window slid open silently and this time, Jack didn’t throw himself at the tree but scrambled down the wall of the house.

Not the best hand and foot holds but he was fast and quiet.

There were six sets of footprints in the snow all leading to the house. Two still trying to kill them.

Jack crept barefoot through the snow to the front and saw an armed guy by the door.

He looked concerned. He should be. The moment he was facing in the opposite direction, Jack launched himself at him.

He wanted one alive to tell them who was behind this.

This guy didn’t go down easily. He blocked Jack’s kick to his thigh and then the two of them traded ferocious blows as Jack waited for that perfect moment.

There it was. He snapped the man’s head back with a blow to his face, breaking his nose and he fell to the ground.

A bullet whizzed past Jack’s ear. He rolled, pulled out his gun and shot before the second bullet did hit him.

A man at the front door fell back. Jack turned to the guy with the broken nose who was still on the ground, trying to get his gun to work, and kicked it out of his hand.

“You’re not very friendly carol singers,” Jack said.

“Okay?” Thomas asked at the door.

“Yes. I think.” He knelt by the man in the snow. “How many of you?”

“Fuck off.”

Jack patted him down, found a knife and pulled it out. “How many?”

When there was no answer, Jack pressed the knife into the guy’s crotch and felt it slide into flesh.

“Arggh. Fuck. Six. Six. Don’t.”

The man didn’t look much older than Jack. The others had been in their thirties.

“Who sent you?”

“I don’t know. I’m not in charge. Tomaz was. You just fucking killed him.”

“Where do you come from?”

“London. Ex-army. You are too, right?”

“Who was your target?”

“Both of you. Kill him. Take you.”

Thomas came to Jack’s side. “How did you find me?”

Jack pressed the knife in again.

“No! Don’t. You’ll let me go, right, if I tell you everything I know? I won’t say a thing. I promise. I mean we’re in the same business. You know what it’s like. You’d do the same. It’s just money, right?”

“Okay,” Jack lied.

“We’ve been watching this house. I don’t know why but we were on a rota for months keeping an eye on the place. The job was for a foreign guy. Iranian. That’s all I know. I swear. I’ll disappear. I can do that. You know I can.”

“I know.” Jack slid his knife into the guy’s heart and pulled it out.

There was a moment of realisation on the man’s face before he died. He’d have done the same to Jack.

He stood and looked at Thomas.

“We clean everything up,” Thomas said. “Bodies bagged and in my car. I have one guy alive and secure in my room. We can question him but not until Zeph is out of here and the house is straight again. He leaves immediately. Once these guys don’t report in, their controller will know things have gone wrong. We need to be nowhere near here.”

Jack nodded.