Breaking: Fall or Break, Book 2

by Barbara Elsborg

  He turned his head to face him and found the surfer staring at him with the darkest blue eyes he’d ever seen, his pale face already assuming an olive hue in the warmth of the kitchen. His gaydar pinged but lack of practice made it too unreliable for Conrad to be sure. His cock tried to come out and take a look for itself and he begged it not to.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” Conrad said.

  The guy gave a choked laugh.

  “I was trying to drag you to my bed, but didn’t quite make it.” A gentle flirt which would be ignored or…not. He had no idea if this guy was gay. All he knew was what he wanted him to be. Conrad held out his hand. He needed to keep the guy’s attention north of his dick until the idiot organ had come to its senses and normal blood flow had resumed. “I’m Conrad Black.”

  “Archer Hart.”

  He had a firm handshake and Conrad would have liked it to last a little longer but shaking hands while they lay flat on their backs on the floor was awkward and rather bizarre.

  “How are you feeling?” Conrad asked. That was sparkling. Shut up before you discuss the weather.

  “As if the sea chewed me up, then spat me out.” He touched the back of his head and winced. “And clouted me with something hard.”

  “That’ll teach you to head butt a shark.”

  Archer smiled, his eyes seemed to shimmer, and Conrad felt something shift inside him. A movement away from the past, a slide toward the future—accompanied by more action in his groin. Damn. Damn that I even have to think damn after longing for this response for months. But damn.

  “The police told me you saved my life. Thank you, though that hardly seems adequate.”

  Conrad could think of a way he could thank him, but he wasn’t going to be blurting that out any time soon. “Anyone would have done the same.”

  “I’m not sure about that.”

  “And I’m not sure they should have let you out of the hospital. Yesterday you swallowed half the North Sea. Today you pass out on my doorstep. You’re probably still concussed.”

  Archer pushed himself to a sitting position and stood up in one seamless movement. Conrad still lay on the floor, his cock deflating in resignation. He made that seem so easy. He didn’t want to move and look like the gimp he was, but he could hardly stay on his back like a stranded turtle. He took a deep breath and rolled over, then pushed up onto his knees. From there he crawled a few feet to a chair and hauled himself upright. Okay, now you’ve seen what I am.

  He kept his back to Archer as he stepped carefully to the coffee machine, trying not to limp or lurch, and switched it on. “You want coffee, some breakfast?”

  “It’s eleven thirty.”

  Christ, is it? “Yeah, well I haven’t had breakfast.”

  “Okay, then. Why not?”

  Conrad heard him take off his coat, pull out a chair and sit down, and felt a thrill of delight that he hadn’t just picked up Deefor and left. He pulled two bowls from the cupboard, carried them to the table, returned for the muesli and milk, then the mugs of coffee, went back again for a knife, two spoons and a banana.

  He could feel Archer watching and was pleased he hadn’t offered to help, though he wondered why not. Most people would have. They’d have been fussing at him to sit down, telling him they’d do that for him. Conrad sat opposite, cut the banana in half, offered one part to Archer, then chopped his into pieces over his muesli. He realized he’d been so preoccupied with his visitor that several minutes had passed without him thinking about how much it had hurt to be on his feet.

  “What happened to you?” Archer asked.

  “A shift into hyper-drive took me by surprise.”

  “Your flux capacitor need adjusting?”

  Conrad smiled.

  “And in this world?” Archer asked.

  “I was hit by a car a couple of months ago. Someone tried to kill me.”

  Archer’s eyes widened. Conrad had said it to shock but why the fuck had he even told him that?

  “Why?” Archer asked.

  “I like that question much more than are you sure? I have no idea why someone would want me dead, but I’m sure they did.”

  “You piss someone off?”

  “I piss lots of people off but I don’t think any of them would actually resort to murder.”

  “The police haven’t found the driver?”

  Conrad shook his head. “They looked but they’re not looking now. The car had been stolen and was found burnt out. They don’t think I was hit deliberately.”

  “But you do.”

  Conrad nodded.

  “Presumably whoever did it still wants you dead.”

  “Thanks for that cheery thought.” Which lurked like a raptor in Conrad’s mind but he was surprised it had popped into Archer’s. “I have had the sense not to broadcast where I’m staying.” Oh God, are you a threat to me?

  Archer pushed away his empty bowl. “But there are people who know?”

  “Yes.” This conversation was worrying him.

  “Then the wrong people can find out.”

  Conrad gave a small shrug. “I suppose so.”

  Archer looked around. “You’re isolated, easy to sneak up on and currently not at your best physically. It wouldn’t take much to kill you.”

  Shit. “If I hadn’t dragged your arse out of the sea yesterday, I’d be feeling worried.” Actually, he was worried. Anxiety nibbled at his gut.

  “Fortunately for you I’m not a threat.”

  Conrad wasn’t so sure about that. Apart from a concern that it might not have been a coincidence Archer was surfing right opposite the cottage, Conrad’s anxiety about impotence now appeared to have taken a new twist. His dick was waving around in his pants like a sand eel, but because he was sitting at the table, his groin was hidden. He hadn’t had this problem since he’d been a teenager.

  Deefor ran to Conrad, jumped up at him, ran to the door and ran back. “You need to pee again?” Really? Because I don’t want to get up right at this moment.

  Archer pushed to his feet and Conrad almost said, “I didn’t mean you,” before he thought better of it. When Archer opened the door, Deefor took two steps into the rain before he shook his coat and returned to the radiator. Archer huffed and slammed the door. “Next time open it yourself,” he said to the dog and dropped back at the table.

  Deefor moved from the radiator and settled at Conrad’s feet.

  Archer wrapped his hands around his coffee. “You can hardly walk. How the hell did you manage to get me out of the sea?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “You could have drowned.”

  “You weren’t far out.”

  “You can drown in a couple of inches of water and the sea was rough yesterday. You can die of hypothermia within minutes. Why did you do it? You don’t even know me.”

  He looked genuinely curious, which Conrad found strange.

  “How could I have lived with myself if I hadn’t tried?”

  “And if I’d drowned?”

  “Then I’d done the best I could.”

  “And when my wife and kids looked at you as though you hadn’t tried hard enough?”

  Oh shit. Conrad didn’t let his disappointment show but his cock wilted. “Then that’s their problem not mine.”

  Archer’s lips curved in a smile. “You’re very confident.”

  “I need to be in my line of work.” I’m an expert in sounding confident. He’d always been confident but the spell in the hospital had changed him, reduced him somehow, reminded him he was mortal.

  “What do you do?”

  “Barrister.”

  Archer raised his eyebrows. “Prosecuting or defense?”

  “Both.”

  “You have a preference?”

  “Defense.”

 
“Interesting.”

  Conrad hesitated, then asked, “You don’t want to know why I prefer defense? How I can possibly defend someone I know is guilty?”

  “But the opposite is how can you prosecute someone you suspect is innocent? Not that simple, is it?”

  Conrad liked that answer. “The law is rarely simple. I recently had a case where a guy spent ten years in prison for something he didn’t do. The evidence at the original trial was damning, but it turned out he’d been set up.”

  “Would you defend someone you knew was guilty?”

  “If they admitted they were and said they were going to lie in court, no, I wouldn’t. I’d recommend they plead guilty. If they told me they didn’t do it and I suspected they were lying, yes, I’d defend them. It’s not my place to determine guilt. That’s up to the jury.”

  Archer finished his coffee in one long slurp. “Innocent until proven guilty.”

  “Exactly.” Does that apply to you too? Are you just a surfer who had an accident? Conrad couldn’t help being suspicious. It was inbred in him and worse after the accident.

  “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.