Breaking (Fall or Break #2) (26 page)

He’s not dead.

That call Conrad’s father made in the hotel…what had the pair set up? Archer might have said the threat was reduced but there was no way he’d have lowered his guard. Conrad was surprised he took a direct route to the bathroom. A wide-open piazza outside the British Library was hardly safe. They could have had breakfast somewhere much more suitable than that. Conrad had been distracted with the worry that Archer was going to leave him or he’d have seen the truth.

Archer had misdirected with the suggestion they eat indoors until he’d seemingly randomly chosen to sit outdoors. He’d disappeared long enough on the bathroom trip to rig up some blood splatter with help, maybe from someone sent by his father. Even ripping a bullet hole in his sweater.

When Conrad had walked toward the café, no more than a couple of the outdoor tables had been occupied. He had no choice of where to sit when he came out again. He doubted anyone in that square had been a member of the general public. The whole thing had been staged. His father couldn’t have known he’d make for the SIS building, but he knew Conrad would be furious and seeking answers. If he hadn’t gone, he’d probably have had a call asking him to.
Oh fuck.
His father had needed him furious, in confrontation mode. In his barrister’s wig. He’d fucking used him.

No wonder they wouldn’t let him see the body. There wasn’t one. But why had his father still insisted Archer was dead? Because Conrad couldn’t be trusted with the truth? He mopped up the spilt drink. At the end of the day, the only thing he had was the people he trusted. He’d thought he could trust his father but Archer had told him not to trust anyone. And he’d included himself in that.
Don’t trust me.
Shit.

Fifteen minutes later, Conrad had talked himself into the exact opposite scenario, believing that wishful thinking and skewed logic had convinced him of the impossible. Archer was dead.

Another ten minutes and he was back to disbelief but unsure whether he even cared.
Fuck, yes I care.
But Archer could have told him, warned him.
I could have pretended.
So would he come now, creep into his house in the night, into his bed? Or was he already on his way to some secret location, scooped into a witness protection program from which he’d never emerge? None of this could ever come out.

He called Sev, hoping there might be a simple way to find out the truth.

“Hi,” Conrad said.

“No, whatever the question. I’m in enough trouble.”

“Archer’s dead.”

Silence at the other end of the phone.

“He was shot outside the British Library this morning.”

“Christ. That was him? I saw something online. Sorry. Shit.”

“Do you still have Deefor?”

“Yeah.”

So Archer had deserted Deefor too.

“Can you bring him over? I’m at home.”

“Okay.”

Conrad put down the phone. Archer had been saying goodbye to him since the moment they’d met. All Conrad had to do was let go of the rope.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Two weeks of going to the gym every day and walking Deefor twice a day left Conrad almost as physically fit as he’d ever been. Mentally not so much. Apart from a long debriefing session in a hotel—the SIS’s Legoland building an ivory tower that he’d never again enter—the only talking he’d done had been to the dog. Deefor was a good listener.

Every morning Conrad hoped and every night he was disappointed. How long was he supposed to wait for Archer to come? Or if not turn up, then call him or email? Deefor wagged his tail when Conrad said Archer’s name and it made Conrad smile until he remembered he was pissed off.

He didn’t have any interest in going to work. He wasn’t due back for a couple of months. He’d originally planned to go on holiday but the thought of going alone, looking at ruins alone, lying on a beach alone, kept him in the UK. The one thing he did need to do was drive to Northumberland, collect his things and arrange for the gym equipment to be shipped to London.

It was a long a journey. Deefor seemed to grow more and more excited the closer they drew to their destination. It didn’t seem possible but Conrad wondered if the dog knew where they were going. He called in at a supermarket to collect a few essentials then continued the drive north. It was dark by the time he arrived at the cottage. His heart was pounding faster than he’d have liked. No point telling himself it was because two men had died here when he was hoping for a live one. But there was no sign of Archer.

The place had been cleaned. No indication anything had ever happened. No bloodstains, broken door or scattered possessions. Conrad put the food in the fridge, fed Deefor and went to bed. Upstairs.

How long was he supposed to keep hoping? Another month? The rest of the year? He expected to lie awake cursing himself for feeling miserable but he fell asleep quickly, Deefor on the bed next to him.

Archer woke at five as usual and lay on his back looking up at nothing, no reason to get up, no dog to let out, no Conrad to mess around with. He was meant to be alone. He’d fooled himself for a while into thinking that wasn’t the case, but it was beginning to feel right and real, and he knew it was what he deserved. But even when he’d agreed to Conrad’s father’s plan and allowed the mock-shooting, he’d hoped for a different outcome. In a way Archer
had
died because he was here alone and Conrad hadn’t come.

Deefor was better off with Conrad. He knew Conrad would have kept him because he was that sort of guy.
A better man than me.
Allowing himself to get close to another person had messed Archer up, let him make mistakes and people had been hurt. He wasn’t meant to have the things that others had—friends, a home, someone waiting for him who cared whether he was cold or hungry or sad. He was better off without any of it. He felt safer now, calmer inside. Just not happy.

Conrad hadn’t come.
Yet.
But Archer hadn’t deserved him so he shouldn’t have hoped. He didn’t know what his future held but that was the way it had always been and he’d survived. It was time to move on. He’d done too much dreaming for the past month.

Maybe he’d visit New Zealand, pick up some money in Switzerland on the way, and a new identity. He rolled out of bed and began to pack. He didn’t have much, a single bag’s worth of stuff. He’d not broken his habit of never completely unpacking. He’d just drive past Marram Cottage one last time on his way south. One final run on the beach when dawn broke, and he’d be on his way.

Then he did what he’d done every time he’d had this conversation with himself. He took his things out of his bag, put his toiletries back in the bathroom. He wasn’t leaving. Not yet. He’d wait as long as it took. He’d drive past Marram Cottage as he usually did and he’d hope and if there was no one there, he’d keep hoping and drive past another day. This wasn’t his final run. He’d keep running in place until Conrad came. His lips curved in a smile.
That
thought made him happy.

It was a cold morning, not a cloud in the sky. Archer set off from the small flat he’d rented at Beadnell, making a mental note to tell the landlord he wanted to extend the lease, ran over the dunes and down onto the beach. He knew this stretch of sand well but the sea was always changing it, channels there one day and not the next, banks of ripples smoothed with a turn of the tide. He remembered how Deefor had run through one of the puddles left behind by the retreating tide and had disappeared over his head, the water deeper than he’d thought. As he ran around the headland, he recalled how Conrad had hidden in the cave, had trusted him that the place was safe. Archer didn’t think about what might have happened if Conrad had instead gone back to the cottage.

Once he’d rounded the corner onto Shennan Sands and saw the empty beach stretching away in front of him, he ran faster. He glanced at Marram Cottage as he passed. Had he been a fool for thinking Conrad might have worked out he was alive and he’d come here? Maybe Conrad
had
worked it out, but was too pissed off with him to care. No, he cared. He’d come. Archer held on to that with everything he had.

Conrad jogged out onto the beach with Deefor at his heels.
Shit it’s still freezing up here.
But not so long ago the idea of running anywhere had been a dream and here he was, running over the sand. He wasn’t the only one. He could see a figure farther down the beach, travelling away from him. Conrad didn’t want company. He set off in the opposite direction expecting Deefor to join him, but the dog raced the other way.

“Deefor,” Conrad called as he jogged backwards. “This way.”

The dog kept going straight toward the runner and Conrad’s heart lurched. He stopped, stared and then began to chase Deefor. The guy had his back toward him, but he was tall with dark hair, the right build. It didn’t have to be Archer but—
oh God.
Conrad ran faster.

Deefor almost tripped the guy up. He stumbled, righted himself, then turned and looked straight at Conrad whose lungs locked solid. Deefor jumped up to let Archer stroke him and then ran back toward Conrad. Archer followed.

Not a mirage. Not a figment of Conrad’s imagination.

As they closed the gap between them, his heart shifted into hyperdrive. When they finally came to a halt in front of each other, Conrad felt as if he was about to explode like a shaken bottle of champagne.

“I thought I was imagining you,” Archer said. “I’ve run here every day hoping this would happen.”

Conrad clenched his fist, swung it and smacked Archer in the jaw.

“Ouch.” Conrad yelped and tucked his hand under his arm. “Fuck it. That hurt.”

Archer ran his fingers around his jaw but he was smiling. “I wasn’t hoping
that
would happen. I really am going to have to teach you how to fight.”

Conrad shook his hand, then rubbed his knuckles, relieved nothing seemed to be broken. “Why did I have to think you were dead? Everything was sorted. You didn’t need to stay dead. I suppose you thought you were doing it for me. So I could have my life back. Is that it?” He didn’t stop to give Archer a chance to speak. “I didn’t want my life back without you, you selfish bastard. What gives you the right to make that decision for me? I thought you were fucking dead. You were shot in front of me. I had your blood all over my hands. Well, not your blood. Was it a pig’s or something? Christ, don’t tell me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, because sorry makes everything fine again.” Conrad sagged. “If you wanted me to have my life back what are you doing up here? Why aren’t you in…Hawaii or something? You…” His voice trailed off as his thoughts caught up with his mouth. “My father
did
do this. I kept asking him and he denied it. It was what you talked about while I was in the shower. He persuaded you to play dead, wanted you out of my life.”

“Yes and no. Yes, he arranged the shooting. He thought it was a way to keep us safe while everything played out. I think he thought you’d realize where I was and come up before now. He didn’t want you out of my life. I’ve been waiting for you.”

“All this time?”

Archer nodded.

“How long would you have kept waiting?”

“I don’t know. Probably a bit longer than you can hold your breath during a blowjob.”

Conrad gave a snort of laughter.

“I thought you’d understand because I hadn’t taken Deefor.”

“I thought you couldn’t take Deefor because you were fucking dead.” Actually, that wasn’t entirely true but Conrad was too furious to let him off. He glared. “Great. Fine. Well, here’s your dog. Take him. No, I’ve changed my mind. Let me have him. He’s less trouble than you. So you’re alive. No need for me to spend any more days wailing and moaning. You can fuck off now.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“Don’t tell me what I mean. Why has this been up to me? You could have called, come to see me in London, found some way to tell me you were alive. You’re a complete and utter selfish fucking wanker.”

“I had to know,” Archer said quietly.

“Had to know what?”

“Whether you really wanted me. Whether I could settle in one place. Whether I cared enough for you. I ran, but I ran in place while I waited. I was too much of a coward to come to you.”

Conrad didn’t move.
Oh shit. This
was Archer’s weakness. A guy who could be ruthless but didn’t recognize love when it stared him in the face.

“I was afraid of destroying you,” Archer said. “You’re the first man to look at me and make me feel I wanted to give more. It…scared me. I thought it was easier to walk away, but it wasn’t. I let your father down. He thought I’d rise like Lazarus but instead, I ran. I knew I’d hurt you and I was afraid of hurting you even more.” He paused. “Afraid of you hurting me.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt you,” Conrad said. “I wanted to be with you. I guessed you were alive, that you’d run. I knew there was no point going after you. You had to decide to stop running on your own. You had to become a different man on your own. You don’t need me. I don’t need you. You’re not broken anymore.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I’m never wrong.” Conrad paused. “What about?”

“I
am
a different man but I’m not mended yet. I
do
need you and you need me. That’s why I’m still here. I’ve been waiting for you. I’ve always been on my own because it was safer. I thought it was what I wanted, but I was wrong. I want you. You made me into a better man.”

A fire burned in Conrad’s chest. “Prove it. Show me.”

Archer’s eyes glittered. “Out here?”

“It’s not just about sex.”

Archer’s cheek twitched.

“Not quite,” Conrad said and Archer laughed. “The cottage isn’t far. I need a flying start.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m still recovering,” Conrad lied. “Shut your eyes and count to ten.”

Archer did as he was told and Conrad pretended to run but snuck back to stand behind Archer before he’d finished counting.

“Coming. Ready or not,” Archer shouted and turned into Conrad’s outstretched arms.

“You soon will be.” Conrad slid his hands onto Archer’s butt.

“I don’t deserve you,” Archer whispered.

“You deserve the awkward me, the bad-tempered me, the very-difficult-to-live-with me, the can’t-throw-a-punch-to-save-his-life me. If you’re very lucky, you might also get the—”

“Kindhearted you, the funny you, the incredibly sexy you.”

“I’ve forgotten how to be any of those.”

“Can I remind you?” Archer asked.

“I don’t know. Can you?”

“Let me try.”

Conrad broke free and started to run toward the cottage. “If you can catch me.”

He pounded over the damp sand, Deefor running at his side, while his heart still lingered in Archer’s hands, unsure of its future. Conrad could hear Archer coming up behind him as he reached the dry sand, which was far more difficult to run over.

“Do I have to catch you before you reach the cottage?” Archer called.

Conrad put on an extra burst of speed. “Yes.”

He’d hardly got the word out before Deefor brought him down. In an attempt not to land on the dog, Conrad face-planted in the sand, the air knocked out of his lungs. He rolled onto his back and Deefor furiously licked his cheek.

“Get off,” Conrad said with a groan.

Archer laughed. Conrad held out his arm for a hand up but Archer shook his head and set off again. Conrad scowled, pushed to his feet and went after him.

“Deefor,” Conrad shouted. “I could do with some help. Trip the bastard up.”

But the dog was way ahead of Archer. Conrad pumped his legs over the sand but it was hard work and Archer was pulling farther ahead. This wasn’t the game Conrad had started. Archer was supposed to catch him. He stopped running and set off back toward the sea, wondering how long it would take Archer to notice.

“Hey, where are you going?” Archer called.

Ah. Not long.

“The cottage. I’m taking a roundabout route.”

“You can’t change the rules. I caught you.”

Conrad grinned. “No you didn’t. Deefor did.”

He turned, saw Archer striding toward him and ran.

When he reached the sea, Conrad turned. Archer lunged for him but a swift dodge and he missed.

“You’re not still recovering at all, are you?” Archer asked.

“Physically, I’m fine. Mentally, not sure yet.”

Archer made another grab for him and this time didn’t miss. He yanked hard and Conrad tumbled onto the sand with Archer falling part on top of him. Archer almost had him pinned until Conrad pushed his knee between his thighs and flipped him off.

“You little…” Archer’s eyes were shining with excitement.

“Not so much of the little.” Conrad’s cock was clearly outlined under his shorts.

Then they were laughing, wrestling at the edge of the sea, each trying to keep the other down and for the first time Conrad felt as strong physically as Archer, that they were finally evenly matched. But when Conrad ended up on his back, Archer on top, that was fine because now he had the chance to look properly into Archer’s face, dive into his dark eyes, thrill at the sensation of his breath on his lips.
Alive.
There were little scars on his face Conrad hadn’t noticed before and he needed a shave. He thought about how Archer’s face would feel between his legs and his already hard cock went harder.