The Heart of the Jungle, стр. 26
He caught a glimpse of a clenched jaw and knew it expressed a deep disappointment. "I understand."
It was a lie. They both knew it, but it was a lie best accepted for the time being.
Without another word, Jason turned and left. His gait was stiff, and Chris knew he was fighting for control with each step he took.
Perhaps there would be a time for this, but not now. His life was a spider's web in a hurricane, a tattered tapestry that Pearl would say was "held together with scotch tape and a prayer." Maybe someday, when the storm had passed, he would be able to reassemble those parts of his heart that weren't damaged and learn to feel something with the fragments, but that time wasn't now. Right now, he needed answers. When he'd gotten those answers, and only then, would he be able to entertain the possibility.
JASON slipped out of his car and wandered through the shadowed parking lot, not really paying attention to where he was going. His mind was in torment, his body still burning from the touch of Chris against him.
He took his time, meandering along, absently avoiding puddles of oil-black rainwater that pooled in dips and hollows.
How in the hell was this possible?
He didn't fall in love, damn it. Yet that was exactly what had happened. No use denying it now.
He'd never wanted for intimate company, but he'd never allowed himself to get emotionally attached, either. Love was a triviality, and a dangerous one at that. It was something that other people did---people who didn't have so much baggage weighing them down.
He'd been careful in his choice of companions, allowing entanglements that could only ever be superficial. Before, he'd blamed it on his career and his need for discretion. After that, it was bitterness and guilt over the disaster that had led to his resignation from the FBI.
Whatever it was, there had always been something holding him back.
Poor Bradley, Jason mused, didn't realize he had been doomed from the start. He'd been chosen because love could never result. Love formed out of mutual respect, equality, and an interest in the thoughts and feelings of the other person. He couldn't imagine having any of that with Bradley, with anyone, really. There was safety in physical attraction and danger in anything more.
When it came right down to it, he didn't believe he was even capable of that kind of sentiment, especially considering that he had never encountered someone who could touch him in that way. Somehow there was always something missing, always some obstacle in the way.
Then there was Hiroko's... and Chris. Then there was the night that a sad smile and haunted green eyes had reached out to him, grabbed hold, and had not let him go.
He considered himself far too pragmatic for romance, even though he didn't deny its existence. It just wasn't his thing---or it hadn't been until he'd come across Christian James. Everything about Chris---the air of melancholy, the quiet strength, and the gentle wisdom in his emerald eyes---spoke directly to Jason's soul.
He shook his head, struggling to come to terms with these wholly unfamiliar feelings, trying to recall each of his past relationships, searching for some commonality. He had no basis for comparison. It was almost as if his heart had been waiting all along for this one person. He was walking on shaky ground, feeling lost and cheated. The universe had brought Christian James into his world in such a state. Jason felt like a starving man at a feast that remained elusively out of reach. Irony, it seemed, had the upper hand.
There were impossible obstacles, just as there had always been in the past, so what was different about Chris that made him want to ignore every one of them? Why was it that the idea of accepting the impossibility made him feel lonely and sad? Why did he want so badly to grab on to something that made him feel so hopelessly lost?
He realized he'd arrived at his door with no memory of having traversed the parking lot and climbing the stairs. He fondled his keys, still lost in thought.
As he entered his apartment, his inner torment was instantly forgotten. Some deep instinct screamed at him that something was not right. He didn't know what set off the alarms in his head, but it was very real, very immediate. The almost preternatural knowing was another of those carry-overs from dangerous fieldwork. It had served him well too many times to discount its warning now. He'd come to trust it, even to rely upon it.
He stood stock-still against the door and closed it softly behind him.
Moving with experienced stealth, he snaked his hand up the wall toward the light switch and listened, trying to detect the slightest sound or hint of movement. He heard nothing except the rapid beating of his heart.
Nonetheless, the longer he stood with his back to the door, the more intense the sense of wrongness became until he thought he would explode from the building tension.
His fingers made contact with the switch.
In the instant before he could flip it upward, the attack came. A solid mass slammed into him and flung him onto the floor. He wrestled with the brute, deftly fending off blows that rained down from above.
His dodges were guided by sound and the tracery of air on his cheek as his attacker sought contact. Whoever it was, he was the embodiment of fury, a relentless, ruthless force of nature. The invader struck out again and again, frustration lending force to the blows.
Jason shoved out with his knees, connecting with a yielding midsection. The satisfying explosion of air from the man's lungs was followed by a strained wheeze of pain, and he was just able to wrench himself free.
He rolled onto his stomach and clawed his way toward the wall.
Before his attacker had a chance to recover,