Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2 (6 page)

“Do you live in London?” Archer asked.

Conrad nodded. “I rented this place while I recuperate. What about you?”

“I’m based in Derbyshire but I travel around a lot.”

“How do the wife and kids feel about that?”

The skin crinkled around Archer’s eyes. “I was speaking hypothetically.”

Conrad’s cock perked up again.
Oh God.
Do you have to? I don’t even know for certain he’s gay and even if he is, so what? Why would he have any interest in a guy who can’t even walk in a straight line?
“What do you do for a living?”

“Business solutions specialist. Something goes wrong, I go in to sort it out. I’m between projects at the moment. Having a mini vacation. Can I get another coffee?”

“Help yourself.”

“Do you want one?”

“Please.”

Archer stood and Conrad’s gaze dropped to his butt as he walked across the kitchen. Hard, tight arse, narrow hips, long legs in faded jeans. He made sure he was concentrating on his cereal when Archer turned. His type but also not his type.

“What do you do all day?” Archer put the mug in front of him.

“Make attempts to get back to normal. I have to exercise before I even get out of bed. Not much fun.”

“Then maybe you’re doing the wrong kind of exercise.”

Conrad gaped then laughed.
Oh God, if only you knew. Oh God, thank fuck you don’t know.

“What sort of exercises do you do?”

“A physio comes in three mornings a week to inflict torture. I work on the treadmill and bike before I shower. Occasionally I find someone to rescue. That means I can skip the treadmill and bike the day after. When I’m not exercising or acting as Superman, I read, fall asleep, read, fall asleep. Fortunately the TV is upstairs so I’m not yet addicted to daytime soaps. I’ve started to tear out my hair with boredom. Can you tell?” He yanked at his head.

“I rather like your hair. The silver strands suit you.”

Conrad groaned. “Silver? It was jet black yesterday.” At least the guy hadn’t said gray.

He felt as though a weight was lifting from him, the deep depression of having his life abruptly interrupted beginning to lighten. This felt normal, sitting at the table, getting to know someone, maybe flirting, though he was so long out of the game he wasn’t sure. But for a while he could forget his legs didn’t work properly, forget his life was fucked up, forget Malachi.

“Do you have any friends come to stay, any help?”

Except why are you asking that? Checking I’m alone?
Conrad couldn’t be bothered to lie. If this guy wasn’t what he said he was, he might as well find out.

“I sacked my housekeeping service yesterday so at least that torture is at an end. I don’t want friends here. I…I don’t want them to see me like this. I’m strong, controlled and usually a bit of bastard. Except at the moment, I’m not.”
Well, the strong and controlled parts.

“I’m always a bastard.”

That shouldn’t have turned Conrad on but it did. He stared straight at Archer who met his gaze and raised it with a brief smile.
He’s gay. But he’s too much like me. Like I normally am.

“I gave Deefor ham. Hope that was okay. Though he did have steak last night.”

“He had fish and chips a couple of days ago. He’ll eat anything. If I lie still too long, he’d probably eat me. Considering he was in the pound, you’d think he’d be more grateful. Most of the time, he appears to merely tolerate me.”

“He was all agitated when you were in the water, barking, trying to tell me to help you.”

“Barking? Was he?” Archer pushed his empty mug away and glanced at Deefor. “You little charlatan. I didn’t know you could bark.” He looked across the table at Conrad. “He wasn’t what I went in for. Unlike me to change my mind. When I want something, I’m focused on getting it.”

Conrad’s heart bounced on his stomach and lodged in his throat.

“I’d imagine you’re the same.” Archer continued to stare at him.

“Yeah, I am. What did you go in for?”

“A big, black, noisy, bad-tempered guard dog.”

Conrad looked at Deefor who was turning in a circle trying to bite his tail, and he chuckled.

“Yeah, quite,” Archer said.

But the fact that he’d picked Deefor said a lot. A bastard with a heart? That wasn’t so bad. Conrad was seven, make that nearly eight years out of practice at this, though he was good at reading people. This guy set something other than his sexual interest flaring. That small knot of anxiety still twisted in his stomach, but the awareness of the need to be careful was almost overpowered by the upwelling of raw lust. He knew nothing about this man so it was unfortunate that made him
more
appealing not less. A mystery to solve. An element of danger. For the first time since before the car hit him, Conrad felt a real interest in something.

Archer rose to his feet. “Thanks for breakfast. I appreciate it. I’ll take Deefor off your hands now.”

What? Don’t go yet.
“Where are you staying?” Conrad asked, wondering how he could ask him to come back. Dinner? Lunch? Sex?

“Nowhere yet. I was going to look for a bed-and-breakfast around here and surf for a few days while the conditions were good, but I don’t want to risk head butting any more sharks. I’ll have to look for something else to occupy my time.”

Conrad didn’t misinterpret
that
look. “Would you like to stay here?” His heart thumped hard.
My cock is talking for me now?
“There’s an unused bedroom and bathroom upstairs, and a living room.”
And it was
still
talking.
“I haven’t managed to negotiate the stairs yet. You’re welcome to hang about for a few days.”

When Archer didn’t respond, Conrad wondered if he’d miscalculated. “Well, it was just a thought.”

“I could pay you.”

Oh God, he’s agreed?
Conrad shook his head. “No need. I’ll enjoy the company.” He hoped he would
.

“I’ll cook for us then. I need to go to the supermarket to buy dog food. Is there anything you don’t like to eat?”

“Dog food, oysters and caviar.”

Archer laughed. “Right. Can I add lobster, truffles and Kobe beef to that?”

“I love lobster, truffles and Kobe beef, though not all at the same time. Sure you’re okay driving?”

“Yeah. I feel much better now I’ve had something to eat. Even muesli.”

“World’s most dangerous cereal. Very apt for you. You have to be careful the currants don’t drag you down.”
Thank you, Malachi, for that crap joke. What the hell am I rabbiting on about?

Archer pushed to his feet. “Anything else while I’m out?”

Condoms. Lube. More condoms. Maybe more lube.
“Can’t think of anything. Give me your number in case I do.”

Archer tapped his number into Conrad’s phone, called it, and Conrad heard the mobile ring in Archer’s pocket.

“You staying, Deefor?” Archer asked.

The dog looked up at Archer, then put his head back on his paws.

“He likes you. Good taste.”

Conrad didn’t think he took another breath until he heard the door close. Did he hear those last two words or were they merely what he wanted to hear? Particularly after that terrible joke?
I was nervous.
He could hardly believe it but he suspected he knew why. No way was Archer going to submit to him. But then he wasn’t going to submit to Archer, which left them precisely nowhere.

He heaved himself up, gathered his damp sandy clothes from the floor and pushed them into the washing machine along with his trainers. He stuffed the emergency blanket under the sink. He swept the sand into a pile near the door but couldn’t muster the energy to do more with it. Once he’d hung up his coat, he grabbed his laptop from the drawer beside the microwave and carried it to the table.

An incognito search on Google for Archer Hart brought a few hits. There was a website called Archer Hart Business Solutions but no images of Archer, and little detail on the man, though plenty on the type of work he did. No LinkedIn account, no Facebook presence. Conrad frowned. He’d expected more personal stuff. He pulled out his mobile, put in a code to withhold his number and hoped Sev would answer.

“Deefor?” Conrad called. “Here, boy.”

The dog came straight to him and Conrad turned over the tag attached to his collar.

“Hello?” Sev said.

“It’s me.”

“Ah. You do know withholding your number won’t stop me finding out where you are.”

Conrad thought not but at least it signaled his wishes. “I’m after peace and quiet not a horde of well-wishers.”

“A horde?
And
wishing you well? That’s optimistic.”

Conrad laughed.

“I already know you’re in a cottage at Shennan Sands,” Sev said.

“Of course you do.”

“Not surprised?”

“I’m just relieved you’re good at your job. I need you to check a number.” He read it out.

“Shouldn’t take me long.”

Conrad had just cleared away the breakfast things when Sev called back.

“The number belongs to an Archer Hart. No criminal record. Clean driving license. No debts. Business Degree from Lancaster University. Previously employed by Centricat who appear to have gone out of business. Set up his own company two years ago. Address is 17 Monroe Park, Matlock, Derbyshire. Hmm.”

“What’s the hmm for?”

“Squeaky clean but looks a little thin. Want me to keep looking?”

“No, it’s okay, thanks.”

Conrad ended the call. He didn’t want Sev to come up with something negative, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to be careful.

Archer headed toward the main road rerunning the entire encounter with Conrad. When he’d glanced through the bedroom window and spotted the good-looking guy trying to fend off Deefor and laughing, Archer had seen an opportunity. That Conrad was physically attractive was a bonus. But when Archer had opened his eyes and looked at Conrad lying next to him on the floor, he had the uncomfortable feeling he’d just made a terrible mistake. Not the sort that would get him killed, though maybe the jury was still out on that, but the sort that might lead him down a path he’d never imagined himself traveling.

His first impression was of intense unblinking bruised blue eyes, long thick lashes, a straight nose, freaky silver-tinged hair, pale skin and perfect lips he wanted wrapped around his cock. Archer had stared. So had Conrad until Archer had come to his senses and risen to his feet.

When he’d seen Conrad struggling to get up and then to walk, he’d been amazed the guy had managed to rescue him. Even the effort of dragging him over the threshold had made him breathe heavily. If he’d known how difficult Conrad would find shifting him, he’d have just knocked on the door instead of pretending to be unconscious in order to engage his sympathy. He could see the guy was in pain from the measured way he moved and held himself.

Archer hadn’t needed to ask if he could stay, Conrad had offered, which was far better. Though that comment about someone trying to kill him had temporarily made him reconsider his scheme. But the guy was probably wrong. If you wanted someone dead, hitting them with a car wasn’t the best way to do it. But then not everyone could afford his services.

He indicated left and took the Alnwick road. He was partial to good-looking guys but he didn’t usually bother with them when there were easier pickings. Conrad was older than the type he went for too. Far more intelligent. Dominant. Archer usually restricted his sexual encounters to quick fucks in club or pub toilets, and on the odd occasion a couple of hours in some guy’s apartment or in a cheap hotel. All willing younger guys who wanted to be fucked hard. Some of them also wanted to see him again but that was never going to happen.

While he’d been working, he couldn’t afford to get involved, to leave a trail, to make himself vulnerable. He couldn’t trust anyone. Well, he still couldn’t, but he and Conrad had met by accident—literally. There was no one pulling his strings, which meant Archer was safe for the time being, for a couple of days at least, and if anyone tried to touch Conrad while he was there, they wouldn’t live long enough to be sorry. His rule about not killing on UK soil was defunct if it was a matter of saving Conrad’s life. Archer owed him.

He was interested in Conrad, as much as he could be interested in anyone. Something about him had touched Archer in some dark, half-forgotten place. The guy had made him smile. Distracted by the thought of fucking him, he had to brake hard when a tractor pulled out of a field ahead and he resigned himself to a slow few miles. He planned to buy enough food and wine that Conrad would feel obliged to let him stay a while, maybe long enough for Archer to get what else he’d like from him. The guy’s legs might not work properly but the rest of him would. Tall and sexy, long and lean, and definitely gay, he was just right. Apart from the fact that he was bright and probably didn’t bottom. The bright part was beginning to appeal and Archer could work on the other.

The White Swan advertised free Wi-Fi so Archer pulled in and grabbed his tablet from the boot. Techie stuff wasn’t his forte, but he was aware that using a public hotspot didn’t hide his location. He ordered a coffee and settled in a corner of the lounge. The Surface Pro was a new purchase. An impulse. He should have waited until he was certain he was safe, but when would he ever feel that? He’d deleted his email account two weeks after coming back into the country. A couple of weeks later, he’d set up a new account, checked it regularly and never found anything but spam.

As the site loaded, Archer saw that was no longer true.

“Shit,” he muttered under his breath.
How the fuck had Phoenix found out his new email address?

The message had been sent a week ago. He hesitated. Was it about the identity of the shooter? Archer had grown to believe that Phoenix had been behind the hit. Now Archer had logged into his account, Phoenix’s guys could trace him, or at least the IP address. To track that to an actual street would require hacking into the Internet Service Provider’s database but despite the no doubt large security measures taken to ensure hackers were kept out, Phoenix might well have a guy with the capability.