Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2 (15 page)

“Where are you going?”

“To change these bags for new ones, to buy a couple of phones, and check for pursuit. If…if I’m not back fifty minutes from now, use one of the tickets. When you’re on the train call the police and ask them to meet you at the next stop. Then tell them everything. Hire bodyguards if the police won’t give you protection.”

As he started to move away, Conrad caught his arm. “Make sure you come back.”

Archer nodded.

“Remember you have something that belongs to me,” Conrad added and glanced pointedly at his backside.

Archer let out a small chuckle. He hurried out of the station and headed for Princes Street. With purchases to make, he didn’t have long to take many counter-surveillance moves but he did the best he could, doubling back, going into and coming straight out of stores, alert for anyone watching or following. Although if it had been him, he’d have stuck with Conrad, assuming Archer would return.

He bought two bags and transferred the contents, checked for possible tracking devices but found nothing. He hid his gun between the packs of money and wrapped the lot in a T-shirt. Armed with two phones and biscuits for Deefor, he hurried to the station, still alert for anyone following.

Conrad sat with the dog in the middle of the concourse and Archer ran his gaze over the entire waiting area. One person caught his eye and looked away a little too quickly. A woman wearing a short black leather jacket and ripped jeans. Archer followed the line of her gaze to a man in his twenties who set off toward the ticket office. Could be something or nothing.

Conrad’s smile when he saw Archer approaching did more to reassure Archer than anything else.

Archer scooped Deefor up and put him in Conrad’s arms. “Lead the way.”

“Don’t you want to know where we’re going?”

“We might not be going there.”

Conrad’s smile faltered. “Right.”

“Keep smiling. Do exactly what I do.”

“You’re not smiling.”

Archer laughed.

“That’s better.” Conrad’s grin looked forced.

“How long between the departures?”

“Five minutes and ten minutes. First one leaves in three minutes. We’re cutting it close.”

“Good.”

When they moved through the ticket barrier, Archer caught sight of the woman.
Shit.
Despite all the measures he’d taken, he hadn’t really believed anyone could know they were in Edinburgh. It had to be the car. A tracker he’d not found. The woman followed them to the same platform. Still didn’t mean anything. Archer pulled Conrad to a stop and they doubled back toward the end of the train. The woman stayed where she was. Archer spotted the guy from the concourse on their other side.

“Where does the next train leave from?” Archer asked Conrad.

“The platform behind us.”

“Brilliant. Come on.” Archer walked to stand in the middle of the platform and saw the couple exchange a fleeting look.
Idiots.

“What about the last one?” Archer asked.

“Next platform along. Over the bridge. You’re worrying me. Is someone watching?”

“Possibly. You just need to be as quick as you can when I tell you, okay?”

Conrad huffed a resigned sigh.

They climbed onto the train to Glasgow and when Conrad moved to sit down, Archer held him back to stand by the door and picked up Deefor.

There was no sign of the woman on the platform but the guy was still there, trying hard not to look in their direction. As the doors began to close, Archer hit the button to open them. “Off,” he snapped and jumped down.

Conrad stumbled onto the platform and a moment later the train pulled away. Archer hurried him across to the newly arrived train and watched the guy get on a carriage farther down. Archer smiled as if nothing was wrong and went through the same procedure. This time, they won a mouthful of aggravation from a railway employee but the train left without them. Archer saw the guy glaring through the window as the carriage passed.
Amateurs.

“Someone
was
following us?” Conrad asked.

“Two someones.”

Seven minutes later, he and Conrad were on their way to Oxford via Durham with Deefor sitting on Conrad’s knee looking out of the window. When a ticket inspector pointed out that Deefor needed to be on a lead, Archer took one of Conrad’s ties out of a bag and fastened it to the dog’s collar.

“Don’t chew it,” Conrad said. “That’s the most expensive lead you’ll ever get.”

Deefor tried to lick him and Conrad reared back. The guy looked white with fatigue.

“Okay?” Archer asked.

“I might need a rain check on your arse.”

Archer pressed his lips together. It seemed a year ago that they’d fucked and it wasn’t even twenty-four hours.

“Think we’re safe, 007?” Conrad asked.

“Yes and no. I don’t think there’s anyone after us on this train but they could be waiting at every stop.”

“Whoever it is has an infinite number of people to do that sort of work?”

If it’s MI5 or SIS, the CIA or Mossad.
“Probably. If it’s just Phoenix, probably not.”

“So do you have a plan?” Conrad asked.

“Yes.”

“Am I going to like it?”

“No.”

“Are you going to tell me what it is?”

Archer quirked his lip. “No. You’ll freak out.”

Conrad slumped. “Oh God. Tell me we’re not going to break a hole in the bottom of the carriage and drop through onto the track while the train’s moving.”

“You’ve watched too many films. Try and sleep.”

“I’m too worried now.”

But he did sleep, cuddling Deefor, his head resting against the window and then against Archer and a well of…something surged in Archer, a knowledge that he’d let this guy get close without meaning to and it wasn’t something he could back away from. Archer was by nature a selfish bastard. In his line of work, he had to be. His own safety and survival were his priority, but the fact that he was still sitting beside Conrad showed he’d changed. He
could
care. He
did
care. It was just bad timing.

No one passed them, apart from the ticket guy and a woman pushing the catering cart. While Conrad slept, Archer took out one of the phones and called Phoenix.

“Yes?”

“Ten.”

“I thought we weren’t speaking anymore.”

“I wish we weren’t.”

“I take it you want to continue with my offer? I find whoever has it in for your little friend and you’re back working for me?”

Archer breathed in the scent of Conrad’s hair. “Yes. But I won’t be doing anything unless you get the hounds off my tail.”

“What hounds?”

Archer said nothing.

“You still there?”

“Get rid of them or the deal is off. One week for you to sort things out or the deal is off.”

Archer ended the call, switched off the phone and took out the battery. He felt guilty for lying to Conrad and it was an unusual feeling, but he couldn’t deal with danger coming from two directions. Archer wouldn’t let anything happen to him.

Conrad stirred at his side. “Are we there yet?”

“No.”

Conrad pushed himself upright and winced. “What’s your plan?”

“Now it’s dark, pull the emergency cord, and when the train stops force open the doors, jump off and hide.”

Conrad looked at him in horror. “That’s not a plan. It’s against the law to pull the cord unless there’s a real emergency. The driver talks to the passenger via a two-way link and there are CCTV cameras.”

“I can deal with the cameras. Do you have a better idea?”

“Can’t we do what we did before when we get to Durham? Pretend to get off and then get back on?”

“Not sure they’ll fall for it again.” He pushed to his feet. “I’m just going to have a word with the ticket guy.”

Ten minutes later, Archer dropped back into his seat. “We arrive in Alnmouth in a few minutes. It’s a small station, I don’t think they’ll expect us to disembark there.”

They got off along with a group of people who’d been doing their Christmas shopping in Edinburgh. Even though Archer thought it highly unlikely there would be anyone at this station waiting for them, he sent Conrad into the Gents while he had a look around. Once he was sure they weren’t under observation, they took a cab to Alnwick. Conrad looked even paler. He was too quiet and Archer guessed he was in pain.

Conrad said nothing when Archer made him walk from where the cab had dropped them off and trek around in a circle to get another cab. It was twenty to six and it didn’t give him long to sort out a car.

“Know a good secondhand car dealer?” Archer asked the taxi driver.

“Sure.”

Fifteen minutes later, the owner of the garage was counting eight thousand in cash and a few minutes after that Archer was driving Conrad and Deefor away in a silver Lexus with tinted windows. The pair fell asleep before Archer reached the A1. He drove carefully and stayed within the speed limits. Once he was south of Newcastle, he pulled up outside a Travelodge and left Conrad in the car while he went inside. He paid cash for two rooms and extra for the dog. They wanted a credit card imprint but a hundred quid changed the guy’s mind.

Back at the car, Archer gently shook Conrad awake. “Come on. I’ve got you a bed.”

Conrad groaned as he levered himself out of the vehicle. He leaned against it for a long moment before he straightened, his face pinched in pain. Archer grabbed the bags and Deefor’s tie lead and they headed for the entrance. He guided Conrad toward the lifts and pressed the button.

“Two rooms?” Conrad glanced at the keys in Archer’s hand.

“One’s for Deefor. We’re not doing anything in front of the kid.”

“You’re optimistic. I can barely walk.”

“You don’t need to walk. You just need to lie down.”

“Or you could.”

“I’ll sort out the dog and go and get us something to eat.”

He opened one door for Conrad, then settled Deefor with bowls of water and food in the room next door. He pulled a pillow off the bed and laid it on the floor for Deefor to sleep on.

“Be good,” Archer said. “Because I’m not going to be.”

Chapter Thirteen

Conrad pushed open the bathroom door and sighed with relief when he saw the tub. Not big but better than no tub. He started the hot water running, threw in a bottle of shower gel and returned to the bedroom. Once he’d drawn the curtains, he stripped.

I’m on the run with a hitman and two lots of people are trying to kill us.

He almost laughed.

For a moment, he considered whether this had all been set up by Malachi, feeding on Conrad’s weird fantasies in an attempt to distract him from the slow recovery process. It wasn’t as farfetched as it might seem because a few days ago he hadn’t been able to move without the crutches. But he couldn’t quite convince himself Malachi would go to this much trouble, that he cared this much.

He felt shattered physically but even more mentally. Part of him still thought he ought to go to the police and tell them everything, but worryingly a larger part of him wanted to protect Archer. Conrad suspected he wasn’t thinking logically about any of this, that there was some explanation he just hadn’t yet seen. But trawled too far into the morass, he’d be unable to get out. It could easily mean the end of his career as a barrister, a compelling enough reason to step away, yet he felt more alive than he had for months. Maybe years.

How long did Archer intend them to keep moving? They couldn’t run forever. As soon as he’d had a bath, he’d keep going over the details of his past cases. People he’d dismissed before as unlikely to have wanted him dead, he’d reconsider. Maybe if he and Archer swapped information, they might spot something the other hadn’t. He didn’t want Archer owing anything to his broker. People like that didn’t listen to no.

Before he stepped into the foam, he checked the temperature.
Perfect.
He had to bend his knees to lie with his back flat but once he was in hot, deep water, thighs rising out of the bubbles like black diamond ski slopes, the tension and chill he’d felt for most of the day begin to seep out of him. He’d call Sev and ask him to check if anyone he’d ever been involved with had been released from prison shortly before the incident with the car.

The bathroom door opened and Conrad started but it was only Archer.

“Bubble bath?” Archer asked.

“It foamed more than I expected.” Conrad fumbled around the bottom of the tub for the empty bottle and dropped it onto the mat.

Archer stepped farther into the room. “I’ve ordered pizza. Thirty minutes.” He pulled off his coat, yanked his sweater over his head and knelt on the bathmat. “Plenty of time to wash you. Need a hand to get clean?”

The head of Conrad’s cock bobbed out of the foam and Archer laughed. He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt and rubbed soap on his palms.

When he lifted Conrad’s arm from the water, Conrad scowled. “That bit’s already clean.”

“I want to make sure.” He stared into Conrad’s eyes as he slowly and carefully caressed every finger, rubbed over Conrad’s palm, circled his wrist and drifted up and down his arm.

“I do like a guy who’s thorough.” Conrad thrust his other arm in Archer’s face and he gave it the same treatment. When Archer washed and massaged his leg, Conrad slipped down until his shoulders were in the water.

“I can’t tell you how good that feels,” Conrad said with a groan.

“Try. I’m working in a vacuum here.”

“Your touch makes every cell in my body sing with delight, but at such a high pitch only Deefor can hear and he’s probably got his paws over his ears in horror.”

Archer growled. “
It feels great
would have worked.”

“It was almost worth being dragged halfway around the country to experience.”

“Almost?”

“I feel obliged to point out a failing in your washing skills. You’ve missed several important bits. You’d get the sack at a carwash.”

“You’re funny.” Archer swept a soapy hand over Conrad’s features, along the line of his chin, across his lips and down his nose. “You have a strong face.”

“And a weak body.”

“That’s not your fault and you’re getting stronger. You’re long and lean and I like long and lean.” He rubbed his hand over Conrad’s pecs, tweaked his nipples, then slowly slid his fingers down the center of his chest. Conrad sucked in a breath.

“You okay after last night?” Archer asked.

“What happened last night? My mind’s a blank.”

Conrad willed him to wrap his fingers around him and jerk him off. One roll of a thumb over the head of Conrad’s dick and he moaned.

“That’s the bit you missed,” Conrad said. “Just in case you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’m saving it for later. And so are you. Don’t touch yourself.”

“How am I supposed to get dry?”

“You ever play any games?” Archer asked.

Conrad reared up to a sitting position, water sloshed over the side of the tub and Archer sprang to his feet, his face filled with confusion.

Shit, I’m a stupid wanker.
Archer didn’t
know
anything. It had just been a question. Conrad stood up as if he hadn’t an aching bone in his body, except for one, flung his arms around Archer and pressed his mouth against his. He felt Archer resist for a moment, his mouth a tight line, then he relaxed into Conrad’s hold and let him kiss him—and wet him.

As Conrad deepened the kiss, his senses tingled. Standing in the tub made him a couple of inches taller than Archer and somehow that changed the dynamics, made him feel in charge for a change.

“So what was that about?” Archer asked when they broke for air. “Did I use some sort of trigger word?”

“Yep.
Ever.
”

Archer rolled his eyes.

“Or it might have been
any
,” Conrad said. “Or possibly
you
.”

There was a bang on the outer door and Archer pulled away. “Don’t think I won’t be asking that question again.”

Conrad grabbed a towel and rubbed his hair. He stepped carefully out of the tub and dried himself before wrapping the towel around his waist and heading into the lamp-lit bedroom. Archer sat on the bed with two pizzas. The smell of melted cheese made Conrad’s stomach rumble.

“I paid the guy extra for a couple of beers. Want one?”

Conrad nodded. He sat next to Archer with his back against the heaped up pillows.

“You’re wet. Need to take your clothes off?” Conrad asked.

“You’ll be too distracted to eat.”

Conrad laughed.

“So…playing games,” Archer said.

He stopped laughing and took a huge bite of pizza. “Mmm mmmm mm.”

“Does that work in court?” Archer asked.

Conrad swallowed before he choked. “Perfect defense. Can’t talk if my mouth’s full.” He sighed. “I don’t want to sit here with a hard-on I hope you’re going to sort out and talk about what I used to do with my ex.”

Archer took a swig of beer. “Tough. I’m not doing anything unless you explain that flip out.”

Conrad thought about it.

“Nothing you tell me will be as bad as what I told you,” Archer said. “The word
game
tells me that. So what games?”

“There’s a room in my house. It used to have projectors. I could turn it into anything I wanted. A desert, a beach, a ship. I liked to…”
Shit, it sounds childish.

“Play,” Archer said.

Conrad nodded.

“Oh shit, that’s bad, that’s really bad,” Archer said. “Jesus. I’m disgusted. You fucking pervert.”

Conrad rolled his eyes.

“I mean it. Did you dress up? Wear makeup?” He gave a mock shudder.

“Forget it,” Conrad muttered.

“Hey.” Archer caught his chin and turned his head to face him. “I’m joking. Well, not about the makeup. I might go for mascara but not lipstick. And no dresses.”

“I’m not into dresses.”

“Just sharp suits. I’d like to fuck you while you’re wearing a suit. Just pull your pants down, bend you over your desk and ram…” Archer exhaled. “That was a thought too far.” He took another bite of pizza. “What sort of scenarios?”

“What?” Conrad’s mind was in his office, his body stretched over his desk, his pants around his ankles, Archer—

“What games did you play?”

“Russian pop star objects to having a bodyguard but falls for him. British guy takes a vacation on a dude ranch in Wyoming and gets down and dirty with a cowboy. Vampire uses Grindr to find dinner and sex.” Conrad’s heart pounded. “Hitman is supposed to shoot a guy but…decides not to.”

“Did you swap roles?”

“What do you think?”

Archer shrugged. “No. I’d guess you were always the badass vampire, the master and commander, the dominant partner. Into BDSM?”

“The fringes.”
Actually, sometimes a little more than that but not hard core.

“What does that mean exactly?” Archer asked. “Ropes but no whips? Clamps but no masks? Cages but no sounds?”

“You know, you’d make a good barrister.”

“Why?”

“You don’t let anything bloody go.” Conrad stared at him. “Actually, you do have qualities a barrister needs. Confidence. Fearlessness. You communicate clearly under pressure. Think on your feet. You have determination, stamina and a dominant personality. Preparation for what you do is everything. You’re a loner but you can get on with people when you have to. We have a lot in common.”

“Apart from a moral compass.”

Conrad took a swig of beer. “There is that. You’d have to rely on words and not a gun.”

“Do you like what you do?”

“Most of the time, and though it’s stressful, I miss it. I might be in court, a fifteen bundle case on the table in front of me, with the judge asking a question to which he wants an immediate answer, and if I can’t snap it back, I need to know exactly where in those thousands of pages I can find it. I have to know when to shut the fuck up before I dig my client into an even deeper hole, and when to
speak
up to make sure I get the right point across. You have to be on the ball every second. I like the rush.”

“Your downtime must be important.”

“Yes, but part of it is usually tied up with worry over if and when I’ll get my next killer brief. It’s hard to relax. Barristers are high-octane, intensely driven individuals. Mal…Malachi put up with a lot for seven years. The games relaxed me but I didn’t treat him as well as I should have.”

“You used him. He was your fuck buddy, not your partner.”

Conrad nodded. “And I didn’t see it until I’d lost him. I’m selfish and self-absorbed. I always have been.”

“But you let him go.”

Conrad put down the piece of pizza he was holding as the cheese began to slide off. “I tried to force him to come back, promised to help someone for him if he did. It worked until I realized what a prick I was being.
Then
I let him go.”

“I can’t imagine being with someone that long. I’ve never been with
anyone
that long. Not even a parent.”

Oh shit.
“How did you end up in care?”

“My mother was a drug addict whore. A whore because she was a drug addict, I suspect. I never knew my father. I tried to trace him but got nowhere. Maybe she’d made his name up. I was taken away from her at birth. Then given back. Then taken away again but some social worker decided she needed another chance and I was returned to her care. She overdosed. I was four years old and alone with her body for three days before anyone found me.”

“Christ.”

“They tried to trace my father and failed. I was fostered by various families who all gave up on me. Put in a children’s home, ran away and was sent to a different one. I kept running until they couldn’t find me. I lived in a squat for a while, persuaded a Russian alcoholic to teach me his language in return for booze, which I stole. Eventually I realized the more I knew, the better the chance I had in life, so I worked a night shift cleaning a library, did the job fast and read the rest of the time. Plus I snuck books out and taught myself. I never took any exams so getting jobs worth more than shit was hard. I did a whole lot of different things, some I liked better than others.”

“And relationships?”

“I already told you. I never spent the night with a guy before you. I fucked strangers in stairwells, in corridors, in toilets, occasionally in their beds. I never fucked anyone twice.”

“You haven’t fucked me twice.”

Archer laughed. “I never wanted to fuck a guy twice until now.”

“Only twice. Is that your limit?”

“I don’t know.” Archer took the pizza boxes off the bed, put them next to the TV and turned to look at him. “You know we’re doomed, right? There’s no way this can work. I’ve broken the law in the worst possible way. You
are
the law. I’m not some young kid to be manipulated into being what you think you want. I don’t play games. What I do is real. I’m dangerous. I’m your worst fucking nightmare.”

Or the guy I’ve been waiting for.
“Sometimes when I was playing, I wished it was real.”

“Easy enough from a position of safety.”

Conrad bristled. “I’m still here, aren’t I? Still risking my career.”

Archer stood at the bottom of the bed and unfastened the buttons of his shirt. Conrad’s heart jumped.

“I wish for your sake that I didn’t want you.” Archer threw his shirt aside.

Conrad’s gaze followed Archer’s hands as he pulled off his shoes and socks.

“I get hard just imagining what I want to do to you.” Archer pushed open the button on his pants. “Get rid of that towel.”

Conrad tugged it from his hips and let it drop on the floor. “Thought it was my turn.”

“Not yet. You’re not strong enough.” The Adam’s apple shifted in Archer’s throat. “I’ll resist. Hard. You need to be able to…handle me.”

Conrad wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to do that, not using body strength. “I could try.”

“You look shattered. I don’t want you even more exhausted. I don’t want to exhaust myself fucking you.”

“Then don’t.”

“Not an option.”

Maybe the way to handle Archer was with words, but not tonight. Archer’s jeans hung low on his hips showing enough of the dip between hip and abdomen to make the breath catch in Conrad’s throat. When he looked up, he saw Archer watching him.