Page 23 of Natural-Born Cullers

As Gray sent Al a warning to turn a deaf ear, a look came his way off Jack.

“Because of his fuck-over of the MC.” It wasn’t even a question. Jack knew MC protocol. “AndjustGray?”

Jan looked at him. “Yeah, just Gray. That a problem?”

Yeah, it was. Jack’s look said that. “It’s a disciplinary panel. The Master sub has a right to be there if it’s to do with his Master Dom.”

Jan gave a cough and shifted and rested against the bonnet. “Do we need to worry here? I mean, Brennan was more than just a little pissed off when he found out why you’d worked your way in as a culler to Master Dom within the MC to take it down.”

Gray gave a hard sigh. With any of Jack’s absences, they stayed true to his care plan by… filling in the blanks over why Gray had been banned from the MC. Strangely enough, there’d been no anger off Jack for that part of Gray’s sleeper activity into a lifestyle Jack loved, body and soul. But then Jack knew him better than anyone. In a way, it had stung Gray more. Unlike Cal on finding out he’d gone in to tear his mother’s world down on the back of a culler call to see what government secrets they spilled between the bedsheets, Jack had this quietS’okay, doesn’t really surprise me, mukkalook about him, which said everything about Gray and how some inherent tendencies wouldn’t ever truly be buried in his Master Dom’s lifestyle. Nature versus nurture was always a tough debate. However neither Jack nor Jan knew how Brennan had stepped in with Light after all of the chaos, pulling CCTV of Light running from the café bombing that could have gotten him arrested when it came to him chasing Zak and pouring acid down his throat for it.

Brennan was a friend, always would be, but what Gray had done this time, it went far beyond one slight against a Master. It took afuck youknife to all of their throats, and he’d known he’d get the official call to answer for it eventually.

The vibration off his phone cut into the quiet, and Jack, more than Jan, gave it a hard look. Gray gave himself some space for a moment as Cal’s number came up. Brennan was a first-class Master Dom, one of the originals, and knew how to terrorise with ball-torture at exactly the right moment, but he wasn’t bloody telepathic.

“Here,” Gray said eventually.

“Gray.” Cal didn’t sound happy. “You and Andrews really need to be on scene to see this, son. I’ll email the address over.”

Giving a frown, Gray cut the call as he headed back over.

“Ah,” said Jan quietly. “We’re losing you again, huh?”

Gray kissed at his cheek, then in to a rougher one with Jack. “Regular check-ins with me from both of you. You know the routine.”

Jack gave a hard sigh. “Really? We’re still doing this shit as well?”

Yeah, this was another routine he was fast running out of patience with, Gray knew that. Jack was his Master sub, but only ever in the bedroom. He didn’t like his work life monitored and restricted, but it was done for a reason. After the… shit with Vince, it always would be from here on in. They both needed to understand that. “Safety, Jack,” Gray said flatly.

“Just say you really want some dirty talk at work because you miss us,” said Jack, looking to try and ease off despite that fight-night look in his eyes he kept sending Gray’s way more and more lately. “Go on, y’big soft plushie.”

Gray slipped his phone away. “Plushie?” He threw Jan a look. “You been extending his Soft Lad lexicon again?”

Jan buried a grin. “Maybe.” Then he leaned in. “What’s this… lexicon?”

“Think dick-tionary, especially when it comes to Gray and picking the more obscure words.” Jack chuckled, then went around and got back in the car.

“Later, baby,” said Jan, and as Jack winked over, Al drove off. Jan headed off for the manor a moment later after a pat at Gray’s abs. “Don’t work too hard, okay?”

Gray nodded his way, then tugged out his phone again and brought up a map of the address he’d been given.

Smithfield General Market.

Renowned for its intricate underground tunnel system.

Giving a sigh, he sent a text through to Simon, getting a feeling he knew exactly where this call was heading.

Chapter 9

Creativity

In amongst the mid-morning traffic, Met police top and tailed Charterhouse Street, blocking access to people and press alike. It left office workers inside, but two forensic tents placed where some of the yellow no-entry boards had been removed along Smithfield General Market stopped onlookers from YouTubingthe men in white lab coatactivity.

Gray pulled his Mercedes behind the line of police cars and let the engine idle as he eased back and looked the place over.

Mostly hidden behind yellow boarding, three imposing blocks dominated the landscape:the General Market itself, with its iron cathedral and walk beneath its vast dome; the Annex, once a fish market that then adjoined the cold store known as Red House; and then the lavatory block. Back in its day, the market had been the finest in Europe, rich in history, and holding enough heart today for heritage campaigners and locals alike to keep it out of the hands of city planners and corporate building. In the end, the Museum of London had bought the land for a potential sister site, so it looked set for more history-making in its future.

But the real winning card came to its complex network of tunnels that ran beneath it.

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