Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2

by Barbara Elsborg

  He shifted into short fast jabs and Archer felt as if a series of explosions had detonated the length of his spine. He still had his hands on Conrad’s butt. He couldn’t move them. My cock. As if Conrad had heard him, he wrapped a hand around Archer’s dick and jerked him off. The room was full of their muffled cries, the sound of slick flesh slipping, slapping, the aroma of sweat and sex swirling around their heads. His hips bucked, heat flared deep in his gut, his body clenched and convulsed, and thick ropes of come sprayed onto his belly and chest. Sweet pleasure that never lasted long enough and yet this did, going on and on until something else broke in Archer, a dam he’d unwittingly erected. Flooded with awareness, he knew he’d lost another part of himself to this man.

  A moment later, Conrad stiffened and Archer felt the cock inside him swell. Conrad cried out as his hips jerked hard, then he collapsed groaning onto Archer’s chest. Archer wrapped his arms around him, wanted their bodies touching everywhere. They were both gasping, breathing together, hearts beating as one.

  Archer didn’t want to move. He’d never felt this close to another human being, never wanted anyone this much. They came down from the peak together, cocks softening, hearts slowing, breathing slowing as tension seeped from their bodies.

  “You’re far too quiet,” Conrad said and eased his weight off him to pull off the condom. He lay on his back at Archer’s side. “Wondering why you waited that long? I did.”

  Archer could feel Conrad looking at him but couldn’t bring himself to turn to meet his gaze. His belly was a sticky mess, come cooling without the protection of Conrad’s body. All I have to do is look at him. He was tired of running. He’d run after what happened on the mountain and escaped nothing.

  Conrad deserved better than him.

  “Was I that bad?” Conrad asked. “I’m not fishing for compliments here. Well, I am actually. Scores out of ten but only tell me if I got ten. I didn’t treat you to all my moves. Thought I’d better keep something in reserve. You felt…fucking perfect. Tight and hot and…Jesus, now I know you’re muscley all over.”

  He could hear the edge of insecurity in Conrad’s voice, and the tinge of annoyance. Say something. If he didn’t open up to Conrad now would he always regret the lost opportunity to be a different person, to live a different life? What am I afraid of? He already knew the answer. He was afraid of caring for someone, being responsible for them and losing them, afraid of not being the man Conrad wanted him to be. Tell him how you feel.

  “Did I screw your brains out?” Conrad asked.

  How did he know Conrad was the one? He’d never let anyone get this close to him before. Never wanted anyone to fuck him. I need him. He needs me. His past could get Conrad killed. It nearly had. So protect him.

  “I did screw your brains out.”

  Archer laughed. “Just about. Sorry.” He slid his hand to the back of Conrad’s neck, pulled him up and back on top of him. “That’s better. I was getting cold.”

  “We’re going to get stuck together.”

  “We’ll get up in a minute. I’m just thinking about how this was nearly the last day of my life and also one of the best. I got a brilliant two-for-one offer on the condoms.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “I like being with you,” Archer said quietly. “It’s not just the sex. I feel different with you. Happy.” He didn’t say more. He couldn’t. There was too large a lump in his throat, too large a hole in his heart. He wanted to ask Conrad what love was, if Conrad could love him, maybe already loved him, but he didn’t have the right. He was a killer and there was a gaping chasm in his soul because of it.

  Conrad had been with another man for seven years. Archer hadn’t even known him seven weeks. Yet could anyone love Conrad as much as he did? Love? Was that what this was? He desperately wanted to believe there could be future for them. A home to share. A big bed. A bigger tub. Deefor. Maybe even the miracle of a kid.

  It isn’t too late. I’m not broken beyond mending.

  Am I?

  I’ve lost him. Fuck it. Conrad wished he could see inside Archer’s head, understand what was going on in there. Part of him wanted to get up, get dressed and walk out, but another part of him wondered if that was exactly what Archer was after. Today had been…difficult. They’d both nearly died. He had to give Archer time. Nor should he forget that the threat against Archer was still there. He knew how hard it had been for Archer to let himself be fucked. He’d said he didn’t want to fight but maybe he should have. Maybe I did this all wrong. Maybe they should have waited.

  Did Archer regret it? If he did, then it was over between them, it had to be, because Conrad couldn’t always be the one to stick his butt in the air. He’d more or less forced Malachi into it for seven years and look what had happened. Archer was a mixed up guy, much harder to understand than Malachi. Though I got that wrong too. Shit.

  So open your heart. Tell him how you feel. You let him fuck you first. You can open your heart first. Tell him you want him to stick around.

  “There’s an old Chinese saying.” Conrad pushed himself up. “Do not use a hatchet to remove a fly from your friend’s forehead.”

  Archer blinked his eyes open. “I should hope not. Especially in Australia. Lots of flies there. You’d not have many friends left.”

  Conrad stood up and held out his hand. “Come on. Let me clean you up.”

  Archer took his hand and Conrad tugged him to the bathroom. He wet a facecloth and rubbed soap on it before wiping Archer’s chest.

  “Everything is going to be fine,” Conrad said. “I know things aren’t fine yet, but they will be. I just want you to promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Don’t run away from me.”

  Conrad waited.

  “I’ll still be here in the morning,” Archer said.

  Not exactly what Conrad needed to hear but he’d take it.

  Even so, Conrad hadn’t been sure Archer would be lying beside him when he woke, so when he flung out his arm and smacked the guy in the face, they both sat up with a start.

  “Sorry,” Conrad blurted. “Christ, I ache.”

  Archer rolled his shoulders and winced.

  “How do you feel?” Conrad asked.

  “Like I’ve been beaten up.”

  Not that you enjoyed being fucked by me? Talk to me. But Archer stayed silent.

  Conrad turned to sit on the edge of the bed. “We should get Deefor.”

  “Not yet.”

  Why not? Conrad sighed. “I better check if Sev minds having him a little longer.” He reached for the safe phone and tapped in the number.

  “What?” Sev snapped.

  “It’s me. Sorry, did I wake you?”

  “No. The lick-machine did that. He’s spent the night checking I was still alive. Every bloody hour.”

  Conrad smiled. “Think you could hang onto him for a while?”

  Sev gave a heavy sigh. “I suppose so. How are things?”

  “I have no idea.” Conrad glanced at Archer. “I’m sorry about what happened. Was everyone okay?”

  “Yes. Cuts and bruises. It was a shambles in there. We were lucky no one was killed. Hurry up and get back to work. I’m far safer when you’re in court.”

  Conrad smiled as he ended the call. He was about to toss the phone aside when it rang.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you all right?”

  Conrad sighed at the sound of his father’s voice. “Yep. Any news?”

  “Not yet. Sit tight. Let me speak to Archer.”

  He handed the phone over.

  Archer rolled to his feet. “You shower first.”

  Conrad picked up his scattered clothes and headed for the bathroom.

  “You hungry?” Conrad asked as they walked through the lobby.

  “Not really.”
<
br />   “I am. Let’s find somewhere decent to eat and we can talk about what we’re going to do.”

  “Fine.”

  Conrad gave him a puzzled look. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” Archer hailed a black cab. “I know a good place for breakfast.”

  Conrad was sure there was something wrong but he didn’t know what. Something his father had said this morning? Archer’s hand settled over his where it lay on the seat of the cab. When Conrad glanced at him, his sexy lips curved in a smile and Conrad’s heart spasmed. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong.

  “Do you have any way of getting into your house?” Archer asked. “I assume your keys are still in Northumberland. Going to go back up there or have your things shipped down here?”

  “My cleaner has a set of keys. I’ll have to go up and sort out my stuff to make sure the things that belong there aren’t moved.”

  “Everything was pretty much tossed everywhere the last time I saw it.”

  “Was it? Shit. That’ll be my deposit gone then.”

  Conrad told himself not to ask because he wanted Archer to tell him, but he grew tired of waiting. “What did my father have to say?”

  “Kinsale is still denying everything. Hard drives are being examined but there’s nothing yet.”

  “So you’re in danger.”

  Archer shrugged. “No more than anyone who knows about all this and a lot of people do now. Your father believes the threat to me has significantly reduced. I’m sure he’s right. Still, don’t trust anyone.”

  “I don’t.” Conrad stared at him.

  “Good. Don’t forget.” Archer squeezed his fingers.

  The taxi dropped them off close to the British Library.

  “I thought we could have breakfast in the library.” Archer smiled. Conrad didn’t trust him and his heart ached at that thought.

  They walked over the checkered piazza past The Last Word glass-sided cafe.

  “Or we could eat there,” Archer said. “It’s not cold. I quite fancy sitting outside with coffee and a croissant. You want to go and get them while I nip to the bathroom?”

  What are you up to? Conrad went into the café and placed the order. He was pissed off with himself for being in such a shitty mood. He was not an insecure guy so he didn’t understand why he was jittery. If Archer wanted to walk away, then nothing Conrad could do or say would make any difference. If he told him that he loved him, Archer would be gone in a flash.

  Conrad carried the tray of pastries and two coffees outside. It suddenly seemed to have become busy and he grabbed the last table on the edge of the seating area next to one of the trimmed hedges that sat in oblong pots.

  Be fucking nice. He was talking to himself, not Archer who was nowhere to be seen. Was that it? Had he gone? Disappointment clawed at Conrad’s heart. Maybe he was better off on his own. Except he knew he wasn’t.

  Conrad sipped his coffee and watched the door of the library. He saw Archer come out and made himself smile. Archer wasn’t going to want to stay if he behaved like a child. Whatever was wrong could be sorted. One thing Conrad could offer was patience.

  Archer was about twenty yards away when Conrad heard a crack and Archer stopped walking. What the hell? As Archer crumpled, Conrad pushed himself up and ran. He could hear people shouting, someone screaming. A guy got to Archer before he did. Archer’s coat was open and there was blood all over his chest.

  “Get back, get back,” the guy shouted.

  Archer’s eyes were open and Conrad dropped to his knees. Oh fuck.

  “I’ve called an ambulance,” he heard someone say.

  Archer opened his mouth and blood trickled out.

  “Don’t die,” Conrad said. “Don’t you dare fucking die!” He grabbed Archer’s hand and hung onto him.

  It was only minutes but it felt like hours before someone tried to pull Conrad away from Archer.

  “Sir, please move out of the way.”

  Conrad registered the voice but he wasn’t moving.

  “Sir.”

  Two policemen pulled him upright and Conrad stood shaking as paramedics worked on Archer. Don’t let him die. I saved him twice. He can’t die. He can’t.

  Then they stopped working. Archer’s eyes were closed. One of the paramedics turned to the policemen and shook his head. Conrad’s knees buckled and he collapsed. No, no, no, no.

  “We need to talk to you, sir,” said a policeman. “Is he a friend of yours? Could you give us his name?”

  “I don’t know his name,” Conrad whispered.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Conrad sat slumped in shock. He couldn’t believe Archer was dead, but his gaze drifted back to his body and the pool of blood and knew he had to believe it.

  “Sir, are you hurt?” a paramedic asked him.

  “Not my blood,” he mumbled.

  He was helped to one of the chairs at the café by a policeman. “You sure you don’t know him?”

  Conrad struggled to drag some sense into his brain. If he said he did, they’d want to take him to a police station, want to hear everything and what good would any of that do? He watched as a cordon was set up around the scene, police keeping ghoulish spectators at bay.

  When the policeman with him was called away, Conrad got to his feet and walked off expecting a hand on his shoulder or someone calling him but no one did. He had no idea what he was doing, where he was going, just that he couldn’t be near Archer’s body.

  The fucking threat had not been significantly reduced. Whoever wanted Archer dead had succeeded. His heart clamped and he doubled over, retching. When he turned and looked back, Archer was being lifted into an ambulance. Go with him.

  What for? It was too late. He kept walking. He hoped it was his face Archer had seen before he died, hoped he’d realized he loved him. He didn’t want to speak to the police, didn’t want to have to explain any of this. He walked and walked, knocking into people on the street, not caring as anger began to overwhelm his grief. Why had his father told Archer the threat to him had been significantly reduced? How fucking wrong could you get? Weren’t they watching the wankers who were behind this? They surely hadn’t let Kinsale go. He put his hand in his pocket for the phone, then put it back.

  Archer. Even thinking his name made Conrad’s heart hurt. He walked into the first underground station he came to and bought a ticket. He wondered why people were staring until he registered he had Archer’s blood smeared on his fingers. He tucked them in his pockets. His coat was soaked with blood too. He found a bathroom and washed his hands. He almost lost it as he watched red-tinged water swirl down the plug hole but pulled himself together. He dumped his coat. He doubted he’d feel the cold. He couldn’t feel anything. By the time he walked out of the tube at Vauxhall Bridge, he was unnaturally calm.

  He headed for the main entrance to the SIS building on the Albert Embankment. Large steel doors blocked the way with smaller pedestrian entrances on either side, all topped by railings. Conrad stood in front of the security booth camera.

  “I’m here to see George Kinsale.”

  “One moment, sir.”

  Conrad didn’t think for an instant they’d let him through, but he hoped that asking for Kinsale might draw enough attention for someone to speak to him. He didn’t move. He might have been carved from marble. He couldn’t allow himself to think, to remember how Archer had bled out as he watched. Oh God. He swallowed the surge of bile that rose into his throat.

  When the gate opened, Conrad was shocked. A security guard ushered him through and the gate closed behind him. He was searched and subjected to a full body scan before he was allowed anywhere near the building. A guard with a gun escorted him inside to go through more security checks. He had to leave his phones, the only things in his pocket apart from a small amount of cash.

  He was taken up in a lift
and along a corridor to a door bearing the acronym S.D.I. His guard knocked, opened the door and gestured for Conrad to walk in. I don’t even know what to say to this guy. I fucking want to strangle him.

  A young man in a white shirt and bright blue tie looked up from his computer as Conrad walked in. He spoke into an intercom. “He’s here.”

  The guard left them and Conrad’s heart pounded.

  “Go through,” said the man and nodded toward a door on the right.

  Conrad pushed it open and saw his father standing by the window looking out over the Thames. Of course it was his father. He turned to face Conrad.

  “Archer’s dead,” Conrad whispered. “You killed him. He thought he was safe. I had to wash his blood off my hands. I never got chance to tell him I…” He clenched his fists. “Where’s Kinsale?”

  “You can’t see him, Conrad.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Kinsale was attempting to alleviate an escalating situation with combative arms dealers.”

  “What? You said three of the hits weren’t authorized.”

  “Kinsale says he didn’t authorize them.”

  Conrad recoiled. “You’re changing history now Archer isn’t around to tell his version?”

  “You have to let this go. Let us handle everything.”

  “What? And sweep it out of sight? You won’t even let Archer have a funeral, will you? He’ll just be quietly cremated and his ashes dumped. I want his body.”

  “Conrad—”

  “Habeas fucking corpus. He engaged me as his lawyer. I want his fucking body.”

  “You know that won’t work.”

  “Let me see Kinsale. Let him tell me to my face that he had nothing to do with Archer’s murder.”

  His father glanced to his left. “Everything’s been done with the best of intentions.”

  Conrad recoiled. “What does that mean?”

  “Archer was the one who was a renegade. He was trying to stir up trouble.”

  “Liar. Christ, they came to Drayburn. They tried to kill us. Look at what happened in Limehouse.”

  “They didn’t try to kill us.”

  What the hell was happening here? Conrad felt like he was reading a book about whaling, and discovering it was actually about keeping goldfish. Something was wrong. His father wasn’t stupid. His father glanced left again. Was someone listening? His struggling brain tried to make sense of what was happening. The shock of seeing Archer shot gradually subsiding under a need to understand.