By CLARE LONDON (12 page)

I smiled. “Is that you talking or one of your soap scripts?”

He laughed and we had a friends’ hug. I may have hung on a bit longer than usual. But I was still going out tonight. I was going to find Seve and offer my body for him to use, and it was all I wanted at the moment.

“Max, you won’t leave again, will you? Leave Brighton, I mean.” Louis was a perceptive guy, and his question wasn’t completely ingenuous. “Not without telling us?”

“No,” I said, and I meant it. “I’m fine now. I’m seeing Seve and it’s good, and I know what I’m doing.” I meant that too. Maybe I hadn’t at first, when it had been my physical desire and Seve’s lust that had propelled me on. They were bloody strong instincts that I’d felt inside me all my life. Given in to them, and fought them too, with varying degrees of success. But I wasn’t going to be sucked into a life I couldn’t control. Not again; not in the same way.

“The sex… the lust. It’s heavy stuff, Max.”

“Yeah,” I agreed with a grin. I knew that. I’d never had so much before—never felt so alive to it despite the sore arse, the scratches on my back and knees, and the aching limbs. “You jealous?”

Louis thumped me on the shoulder. “Stupid pillock.”

I laughed. “You’re going to have to trust me on this one, though.” And I grabbed my jacket and left the flat.

SEVE and I fucked in the park that night, around the back of the cricket pavilion. Not on the grass, because it was damp from a misty seaside evening and neither of us had a coat to lie on. And not slowly, either, because the police patrolled there at night. We dropped our jeans, and then Seve propped me up against the side of the pavilion so we were face to face. He hooked one of my legs up around his thigh and fucked me with quick, shallow strokes. It was fast and intense, and when I came, my gasp was a weird mix between a laugh and a cry.

We swiftly dressed again and leaned back against the wall for a while, gathering our breath. Despite the damp night, the weather had been good for a couple of days. Spring was handing over to the budding summer season, though with a slow mischief that was familiar to anyone who lived here. Tomorrow it could pour with rain again, I knew, so we’d made the most of the warm evening. I could hear the traffic in the distance along the main Eastern Road and a thread of distorted music from along the pier. A group of drunk young men passed on the far outskirts of the park. One looked over and yelled something obscene at us, but they continued on the same path. I watched until they turned a corner out of sight.

“You want to go back to the club and catch another drink?”

Seve shook his head. “No.” His eyes were clouded as they often were after orgasm. He didn’t look like he was concentrating on much, but his hand ran along my forearm, stroking me.

“So I’d better get back,” I said. I was just trying to find something to say. My legs ached from holding my position earlier, but the rest of my body was strangely restless too. Seve sighed aloud. That was all, but it triggered me somehow. “What else should I do?” I snapped. “You bitch about me upping and leaving all the time, but what the fuck else is there to do?”

He stared at me, startled. His dark pupils were like liquid fire in the gray shadow of the pavilion. To my weary astonishment, I felt my cock stir in response to my desire to see that flame lit again.

“You’re the one—”

“It’s safest to be the first to say it, right?” I couldn’t believe the bitterness in the words spilling out of me. “Before you tell me to piss off. Because that’s all this is, isn’t it? A fuck. I know that, I’m not stupid. I know the rules. And believe me, I’m the first to enjoy it. But that doesn’t mean you get all of me.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Seve’s voice was low and angry. “What rules?”

“You know.” I wished I’d never started this, but the devil was in me tonight. “The rules that say we’re free to fuck anyone—no strings. This is just fun. You said it yourself once—what we want is no interference, no one running our life for us.”

Seve frowned. “I don’t remember. I’m not sure I meant….”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s true.”

He bit his lip. Saliva on the plump flesh glinted, a reflection of moonlight. “I never said it was anything different, Max.”

“No, I know.” My turn to sigh. And I didn’t ask, either.

“I don’t have a lot of time for myself, so I want to make the most of it. I am always busy with work.” He didn’t sound like he knew what to say next. I wondered if he had his staff give other exes the brush-off or if he just didn’t turn up one night. Like I realized I’d been dreading ever since the first night I met him. “The family has expectations.”

“Yeah, I know all about them.” I snorted.

Seemed that was a trigger for him too. “What does that mean? You don’t know anything about my business.”

I really, really wanted to snap back. I opened my mouth but closed it again quickly. Some kind of self-preservation had kicked in at last.

“Or do you?” He grabbed my arm and turned me to face him. “Is that your problem?”

“Let go of me.”

“I’m not the only one keeping to myself, am I?”

“What the fuck? Just let go, let it drop.”

He did neither. “What do you know? What aren’t you saying?”

His grip was very tight, and I didn’t know whether the swell inside my gut was anger or fear. “I know very well what your family is capable of.”

He let go so suddenly I stumbled on the slippery grass. “Is that why you hold back?”

“Hold back? Shit, how can you say—”

“Not in sex,” he growled. “Dammit, you don’t listen properly, do you? I mean, you hold back yourself. Something’s stopping us—”

“Stopping us, what?”

He shook his head as if irritated he’d spoken out. “Just tell me what it is you think you know about my family. You cannot accuse us of something and not tell me what it is.”

“And you can stop with the injured innocence. You’re part of the management, remember? You’re proud of being family.”

He flushed. “Yes, I am. We have been successful. We are successful. I know people are jealous of that.”

“I’m not jealous. I’ve got no stake in that.”

“So what the hell’s the matter? Tell me!”

“There’s no point. That’s not what we’re about.” I blamed Louis for disturbing my equilibrium tonight; blamed him and Jack for being a sickeningly happy couple; blamed Seve for making me want him. Blamed everyone but myself, like I should have done.

“So what are we about?” Seve said. His voice had lowered again and his eyes had narrowed.

“I’m going,” I said. “I’ll walk from here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Don’t tell me what to be or not!” I snapped. I turned and strode away.

He didn’t follow.

I WALKED quickly but distractedly, thinking how I’d been a brat and an arse, and that was surely the end of me and Seve. My belly hurt and my eyes felt oddly sore. I probably shouldn’t have taken the shortcut across the back of the county hospital, though it was a shorter route by a few minutes and there were usually people about, whatever the hour. But tonight was different.

As I rounded a corner of the perimeter fence, they stepped out from the shadows behind the huge recycling bins. Three of them, taller than me, twice as broad, in casual but dark-colored gear and wearing shades at night, which was a strong indication of the IQ accompanying them.

For a sudden shocking moment, I thought I recognized one of them, a man standing in shadow at the back of the group. Something about the set of his shoulders and his stocky build. But the context was all wrong. I couldn’t recall seeing him in the Brighton streets—the strongest memory was a flash of a miserable life that I thought was long past. Nausea prickled the back of my throat at the thought. How could it be him? I was terrified at how easily it could all come rushing back, the fear and the anger that I’d tried so hard to keep at bay.

But I didn’t have time to swap reminiscences. They were tough and they moved quickly for such big men. After a few ineffectual punches from me, they sideswiped me and I fell to my knees. A kick to my stomach and I doubled over, retching and clutching my guts, feeling as if they’d fall out without protection. I wondered how small I could roll myself to keep away from the kicks and the fists. I wondered if there was going to be any weapon involved. Another kick to my thigh laid me flat out on my face, and I yelled out that time. Pointless, really. I knew no one was coming to help me.

One of them—one I didn’t recognize—knelt beside me. Without warning, he smashed his oversized fist into my throat. My breath burst out of me in shock and pain. “Back off,” he grunted in my ear.

Back off from what? I only had a couple of quid in my wallet. I didn’t have a jacket, and I’d never had any jewelry. What the fuck did they want?

“Keep your fuckin’ fag hands off Mr. Nuñez.” Another boot caught my ribs, landing squarely on a patch that was already bruised beyond sensation.

“Who says so?” I croaked.

“He does,” the man said with a horrible barking laugh. He stood, took a step back, and I winced in anticipation for the next blow.

But it didn’t land. They just turned and left me there. I heard their heavy receding footsteps on the cold ground, the vibration spiking through my cheek. Curled up in agony, my face in the dirt of a day’s pedestrian traffic, I wondered what the fuck was going on. If Seve wanted to dump me, why didn’t he just tell me he was tired of my skinny arse? Did I really need the message imprinted on my ribcage?

Why did he do this?

AND my God, did Louis make a fuss!

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I’d broken a few bones before now, and the bruises weren’t going to make or break any career aspirations as an underwear model. After a painful examination by Louis’s GP, I quietly neglected to follow up on the X-ray appointment, in case they asked too many questions about my fall down the stairs. After all, the doctor reckoned most of the damage was on the surface, and I’d be on my way back to normal after a few days of rest and copious painkillers.

Yeah, most of that happened. But not the “back to normal” bit.

It probably took me two days before I could roll myself easily out of bed, and another couple before I could jog up and down stairs and do all the other things you take for granted when you’re fit and able. I had bruises on bruises. I reckoned a rib might have been cracked, but I assured Louis it was just a wrenched muscle. It’d heal on its own, and I didn’t want any further fuss. The site said they’d keep my job for a while, but they needed me back sooner rather than later. I was keen to get back there too. I hadn’t been with them long enough to have any entitlement to sick pay.

I moved about carefully and I slept a lot. I also brooded a lot. My nights were anguished and my dreams were wet and frustrated. When I woke in the dark with a heavy sweat on, there was no comfort in the memories of that cruel beating. I just wished I knew what the fuck was going on.

I REALLY didn’t want to drop Jack and Louis off at Compulsion that next Saturday even though it was the trade-off for borrowing Jack’s car to go to one of the three Vs’ house for the evening. The girls had some problem with the landlord’s plumbing, and I’d offered to help them out.

“It’s on your way,” Louis wheedled. “I can’t walk far in these trousers.”

“Can’t you get a cab?”

“Why are you so upset about it?”

“I’m not fucking upset,” I growled.

“Why are you growling, then?”

So the argument was lost and I drove them to the end of the street. Louis tumbled out of the car, resplendent in black satin sprayed-on trousers and a shirt that barely covered his nipples. He sashayed up the steps to the entrance, waving to a couple of friends arriving at the same time. Jack slid out of his seat to join him. I risked a glimpse at the club, weighing up the door monuments—two of them again, wide guys in heavy black suits and the ridiculous shades. I let out a breath. Not the heavies who’d attacked me. Not the man I thought I’d recognized. How could I have recognized someone I hadn’t seen for a bloody long time, from another city, from miles away—from another life, for God’s sake? I’d been hallucinating from fear.

I felt the pain returning, but it wasn’t just my still-aching ribs. The sight of the club disturbed me. The pavement where Seve had stood, leaning insouciantly against his car. The memories of other times he’d driven us away from there, of other nights he’d been waiting for me. Memories of the dark yard, the stuffy storeroom. What was worse, something else was aching, and it disgusted me. I started to pull away from the curb.

“Max!” The call was peremptory, and I knew it was Seve.

Fuck. My heart raced and my cock throbbed. I cursed every nerve I possessed for betraying me like this. Why the hell was he here again? Why did he think it necessary to waste further time humiliating me? Most of all, I wondered why I couldn’t have driven away that little bit faster. God knows, Jack’s car had the acceleration. If I hadn’t given way to the stupid memories….

Meanwhile, Seve strode quickly and easily to the car and placed his hand on the half-open window. I didn’t think I should close it quickly and leave him fingerless, so I stopped the car. I should never have thought about his fingers at all… his fingers on my hips… his fingers at my mouth… his fingers sliding into me. I missed him. And badly.

“Max, where have you been?”

“I got your message,” I said sharply. I could smell the tang of his cologne in my nostrils. My body reacted of its own free will, and I was immediately fiercely aroused. I hoped to God nothing gave me away. It was suddenly very important to me that Seve didn’t realize the effect he still had on me. “There’s nothing more to say, is there?”

“Message?”

“The postcard with a punch.” I almost spat the words. “The warning off. Couldn’t you have just left me a note behind the bar? Or tucked a tenner in my jeans and dispatched me back home?”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes darkened with even more anger. “A warning about what, Max? Who brought you a warning?”

It was a good act, I had to admit. “Three lumps of cretinous concrete like those heavies up there. Told me to keep my fuckin’ fag hands off you. And as I don’t welcome any more bruises and battered bones, I’m taking it to heart.”