Dirty Games

by Barbara Elsborg

  Linton still said nothing.

  “Why did you come to the house?” Thorne asked.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Yes, it does. “Come back. Just hang around with me. Keep me company.”

  “Are you going to see him?”

  “Go to the hospital? No. His brother’s a pompous prick. He’ll definitely blame me.” Thorne sagged. “Fuck. How can such a fantastic day turn to shit so fast? You came to my house. I landed a perfect role. And before that I identified the two guys who attacked your brother.”

  Linton closed his eyes for a long moment and let out a deep sigh.

  “Thanks might be nice.” Thorne just managed to keep the snap out of his voice.

  “I wish you hadn’t.”

  Fuck you. “You want them to get away with what they did?”

  “You were in the paper as having helped Dirk. The guys who attacked him know who you are. When the police go to see them, they’ll know who pointed them out. They’re dangerous. Dirk didn’t see a thing but now you’ve fingered them, they might come after you. Don’t point them out if you’re asked to go in for an identity parade.”

  Jesus. “I was trying to help. If River had been attacked, I’d want the guys who did it to be punished.”

  “I know you were trying to help. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. But it’s put you in danger.”

  “I was wondering if you cared.”

  Linton stared straight into his eyes. “The last thing I want is for you to get hurt. Whatever else happens, in the end remember that.” He turned and walked away.

  What did that mean? What wasn’t he getting? Thorne almost went after him again, but there was chasing and there was chasing.

  As soon as Orlando had taken Thorne on as a client, he’d made it clear Thorne had to be careful who he trusted, that people he thought were friends could turn out to be anything but. Thorne had thought Orlando was wrong, that his friends were better than that, but even before Owen there had been incidents, occasions when Thorne had been betrayed, his private words repeated, an opinion he’d expressed twisted, an unflattering image shared.

  Owen had seemed different. The guy had wormed his way under Thorne’s protective shield. He looked like an angel but underneath that perfect exterior was a guy who was more fucked-up than him. That had turned Thorne on when it should have turned him off. A damaged guy with gorgeous soulful eyes and a beautiful smile and Thorne had thought they made a good pair. Plus, Owen had needed him so much that Thorne had let his defences down, opened his heart, and ended up getting it stamped on.

  Being cheated on had been devastating. No one had ever done that to him before. He’d been hurt and humiliated, and still didn’t understand how he’d got Owen so wrong, how the guy’s complete and utter devotion had been overturned so easily. Now he knew he couldn’t trust anyone except for Josh. River would never intend to hurt him but he didn’t always see the right thing to do.

  He’d sworn from that point there would be no more getting involved. No more talk of setting up home with someone—of either sex, of having a dog, kids. He wasn’t sure if that had been his dream anyway or one Owen had drawn him into. Thorne had ended up questioning everything about their relationship. What had he missed? So Thorne knew better than to trust a guy he’d only just met, particularly a guy who’d warned him he wasn’t to be trusted, even if he didn’t say it. The best thing to do was to leave Linton alone.

  Right.

  Linton made his way back to his flat to get his car. The moment he’d left Thorne’s place, he’d phoned Cindy but all she knew was that Owen had been taken to East Surrey Hospital. The heartless bitch blathered on about him writing off Max’s car and when she started telling Linton about another book she wanted drawings for, he ended the call. What a self-centred cow.

  There was no way Linton felt able to tell Thorne what he’d gone there to say after Josh had taken that call. He wasn’t sure he would have told him anyway. Even as he’d flirted on the phone, he’d wondered what the hell he’d been doing. When Thorne burst in so high, excited about the film role, pleased with himself for identifying Dirk’s attackers, and openly thrilled to see Linton in his house, Linton knew the moment hadn’t been right, and part of him had been glad. Then came the news about Owen, and Linton had seen Thorne’s shock and known the guy still cared even if he didn’t want Owen anymore.

  Timing was everything.

  He quietly groaned. Tomorrow, he’d call Thorne, arrange to meet him somewhere neutral; a café, a bench by the Thames, a railway station and finish this.

  Linton found Max pacing in the hospital corridor. The glare he shot Linton almost stopped him in his tracks.

  “How is he?” Linton asked.

  “He’ll live, no thanks to you.”

  Fuck you. Linton gritted his teeth and bit back his retort. “What happened?”

  “He was distraught last night. We both thought you wouldn’t fall for Thorne because he was bisexual. We were wrong, weren’t we? Not that I give a fuck but I do give a fuck about my brother.”

  “And that Thorne changed his mind about you designing his house?”

  Linton wanted that back the moment he’d said it.

  Max reared up in front of him like an angry grizzly. “No one treats a Devere like that and gets away with it. You—are going to do what we agreed.”

  “I’ll give you the money back,” Linton blurted.

  “And how are you going to do that when you’ve already spent it?”

  Linton swallowed in shock, then sucked in his cheeks. “I can get it.” He’d go to Budak, tell him he’d get Thorne to change his mind about what he saw—for a price. Yet even he could see the flaw in that. Budak could silence them both at little cost.

  Max smiled briefly. Linton guessed he knew there was nothing Linton could do.

  “This is the third time I’ve almost lost my brother,” Max said. “The first time because of those men and your cowardice. The second time because of Thorne’s cruelty. This time because of you. Your fault. You let Owen down knowing his state of mind. You heard him threaten to kill himself.”

  “I—”

  “You know how vulnerable he is. I don’t give a damn whether you’ve fallen for Thorne or not. But you will get on that stage in four weeks and show him up for the piece of shit he is. The press will love it.”

  “Max—”

  “You already know what I’ll do to you if you don’t. But not just you. You hurt my brother, I can hurt yours. Got a taste for blow, it seems. I understand that’s hard to shake off, particularly if it just…falls into your lap. Even in Yorkshire. I can make it fucking fall. Remember that.”

  Linton turned and walked away feeling sick.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Linton spent the rest of the morning trying to figure out what the hell he was supposed to do when his life was imploding. If he just sat there and let it happen, things would only get worse. In the afternoon he called the letting agency, gave notice on his flat and asked them to send him a statement of account. When he knew exactly how much they wanted, he’d negotiate.

  There would be no job with Max after this regardless of the outcome. He no longer wanted to work for the git. Linton was pretty sure he’d have a case for unfair dismissal if he walked out, though he worried he’d scupper a chance of a job with anyone if he pursued that route. Max would probably make sure no other firm of architects touched him.

  Linton cancelled every outgoing payment that he could, put most of his furniture up for immediate sale on eBay and began looking for jobs in the north—ironically graphic design seemed like something he could do. It would be cheaper to live away from London and when Dirk was well, they’d go somewhere together. Maybe abroad if any country would have them.

  When he heard his doorbell ring, he went to the intercom to check who it was and saw a young fair-haired stranger.

  “Hi,” Linton said.

  “Delivery for Linton Williams.”

  Linton p
ressed the release button. When the knock came at his door, he opened it wondering why the letting agency had biked the form over, only for Budak and two men to barge inside. Linton was shoved against the wall and pinned in place. The door slammed shut and Budak stepped right up, close enough for Linton to knee him in the balls, though he didn’t because he knew what would follow.

  “You have very stupid brother,” Budak spat the words into Linton’s face.

  “What’s he done now?” Linton had a horrible feeling he knew what this was about and it had nothing to do with Dirk.

  “Ed and Zeki taken by police.”

  “Who are—” Linton didn’t get to finish the sentence. His arms were wrenched taut and Budak thumped him in the stomach.

  Oh God, oh God. Linton struggled to breathe through his gasps of pain. The men hauled him upright and Budak stared at him.

  “I don’t know—” Linton groaned as the next blow snapped his head to one side. His mouth filled with the coppery taste of blood.

  “Where brother?” Budak asked.

  “He’s in rehab.” Linton swallowed blood. “Dirk didn’t even know it was your guys who attacked him until I gave him back his bag and his guitar. He didn’t tell the police anything. He didn’t see anything. He won’t back up—” Oh fuck. In trying to defend Dirk, he was condemning Thorne.

  “Won’t back up who?” Budak put his hand around Linton’s neck and squeezed.

  Linton gasped. “Any…witnesses.”

  “Thorne Morrisey.”

  Oh shit. I didn’t say that, did I? No.

  “Don’t act surprised. You read paper. You make sure Dirk tells police Ed and Zeki had nothing to do with attack. They strangers passing who try to help him. Understand?”

  Linton couldn’t speak but managed to nod.

  “You make sure or I have to make sure.” Budak squeezed Linton’s neck hard enough for the world to go black before he let him go.

  Linton sucked air and choked. The two guys released him and he slithered to the floor coughing.

  “Taste of what will happen,” Budak said and all three of them kicked him.

  Linton curled up trying to protect his head. The beating didn’t last long though it felt like a lifetime. They left and closed the door behind them leaving Linton half gasping, half whimpering. Everything hurt. Oh shit, shit.

  He was almost afraid to move and for a while just lay there until he had the strength to push himself to a sitting position. It took a lot longer before he could get to his feet. He staggered the few paces to his bathroom, dropped to his knees in front of the toilet and threw up.

  When he finally levered himself upright, he only just made it to his bed before he collapsed. Luckily both phones were within reach because Linton wasn’t sure he had the energy to move. But it was several minutes before he felt capable of holding a conversation and he used those minutes to think carefully about what he did next.

  Calling the police might have been his first thought but if he reported Budak and his guys for assault, the person that it wouldn’t end well for was Linton. They’d not broken any bones though he ached from his scalp to his toes. Who else could he call? There was no one. Though he needed to warn Dirk. Linton picked up his old phone and found a message from the police asking him to get in touch. They probably wanted to speak to Dirk too. They could wait.

  It took a bit of persuasion before The Moors agreed to let him speak to Dirk, but maybe they mistook the pain in Linton’s voice for desperation.

  “Hi,” Dirk said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Are you on your own?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Thorne went to the police and identified the two guys who beat you up.”

  Dirk made a sucking noise. “I already told the police I didn’t see anything.”

  “Was that the truth?”

  His brother’s silence said everything.

  “I’ve just had a visit from Budak,” Linton said. “He made it clear what would happen if his guys were arrested. He wants you to say they stopped to help you.”

  “Fuck.”

  Yeah. Linton touched his aching cheek.

  “Did he hurt you?” Dirk whispered.

  “I’m okay.” I’m really not.

  “Can you get Thorne to tell the police he was mistaken?” Dirk asked.

  “I already suggested he shouldn’t identify them if the police called him in. I was worried Budak would go after him if he did.” I hadn’t thought they’d come after me.

  “Zeki is Budak’s brother. He won’t let him go down.”

  Christ. More brothers?

  “You sure you’re okay?” Dirk asked.

  “Yep.”

  “You have to persuade Thorne to keep quiet.”

  He didn’t want to but he’d had a taste of what would happen if he didn’t. “Did they rape you?”

  “You already asked me that. I told you I didn’t know.”

  “But you said you didn’t know who they were and you did.”

  “Look! I wasn’t raped, all right?” Dirk snapped.

  “The doctor said—”

  “The doctor had no right to say anything. I wasn’t raped.” Dirk practically screamed it.

  “Hey! Calm down.”

  “Okay, okay,” Dirk lowered his voice. “I got paid for sex.”

  Linton cringed. “You took fifty pounds of mine.”

  “How long was that going to last? I couldn’t even get a room in a hotel for fifty quid. I contacted a guy I’d been with before who likes it…me. He paid for a fuck and not long after that Ed and Zeki jumped me. They took your money and the money I’d just earned. I think…maybe they were going to mess around with me but someone came. Thorne, though I didn’t know it was him. He shouted and they left. I kept my eyes closed. I just wanted it to all go away.”

  “Their DNA will have been on you and your clothes. They’ll be linked to you.”

  “They can say they tried to help me. I can stick to my story of being unconscious. If I tell the police I saw them, maybe they’ll think I’m trying to protect them. Or maybe I can pretend to remember them now and say they tried to help me.”

  “Not sure changing your story is a good idea.”

  Linton shifted, caught his breath at a pain in his side and tried to turn a groan into a cough. He felt as if he’d been taken apart and put back together wrong.

  “Sure you’re all right?” Dirk asked.

  “The police left a message on my phone. They want to speak to you. I’ll have to tell them where you are.”

  “Fine.”

  Linton found himself listening to dead air. He sighed and called the hospital to check on Owen. He took a risk and lied, said he was Owen’s cousin. Even then, for a few moments he thought they wouldn’t tell him anything, but they finally said Owen was improving. There was some relief in that because Linton did feel responsible. Then he called the police who as he suspected, wanted to contact Dirk, and he gave them the number for The Moors. Linton took pictures with his phone as best he could of the damage done to his body, just in case he ended up dead, then at least there would be some evidence. He curled up and passed out.

  Thorne pulled the baseball cap low over his face before he walked into the hospital. Half of his brain was telling him to get back in his car and go home, while the other half dragged him onwards. Owen had to stop this before he actually managed to kill himself. It was such a fucking selfish thing to do, and yeah, he knew Owen was too depressed to register that.

  Once he’d found where exactly in the hospital Owen was being treated, he took off his cap. He had a better chance of talking his way in as Thorne Morrisey. He hadn’t expected to see Nate standing in the corridor outside the critical care unit and he almost turned around. Thorne wished none of this affected him, but it had and still did.

  Nate straightened and took his hands out of his pockets. Thorne clenched his jaw as he walked up to him.

  “How is he?” Thorne asked.

  “I don’t know.
They won’t let me see him.”

  “Would he want to see you?”

  Nate sagged, then looked straight at Thorne. “You know, don’t you? It’s the only explanation I can think of for you not wanting to see or speak to me. I know it’s Josh who’s always been your friend but you and I were okay and now we’re not. I’m sorry.”

  Thorne stayed silent.

  “It’s all my fault,” Nate whispered. “Owen’s fucked-up because of me.”

  Thorne almost told him he was right, but knew it wasn’t the entire truth. As pissed off as he was with Nate, he didn’t need to make the situation worse.

  “That night,” Nate mumbled. “We didn’t mean to go—”

  “Shut up,” Thorne snapped. “I don’t care. I don’t want to know.”

  He did, but not at that moment. Thorne pushed open the door to the ward, paused to squirt disinfectant gel onto his hands then strode to the nurses’ station.

  They said no when he asked to see Owen, but he put on the show of his life, and finally they gave way. Apparently Owen would be fine. He’d been lucky. No damage he couldn’t recover from, though Thorne wondered if that was true if this was the second attempt at suicide.

  “A couple of minutes, no more,” the senior nurse said.

  Thorne was shocked when he saw Owen. He hardly recognised him and that wasn’t because of all the wires and tubes. His face was swollen and bruised. Thorne wrapped his fingers around Owen’s and squeezed his hand.

  “Bit of a drastic way to get me to come and see you,” Thorne said quietly.

  Owen’s eyes fluttered open and Thorne let go of his hand. He hadn’t thought Owen would wake. Owen’s eyes filled with tears.

  “Nate’s outside,” Thorne said. “You ought to see him. He thinks this is his fault.”

  There was a hitch in Owen’s breathing but he didn’t speak.

  “I’m not taking the blame for this, Owen. You were the one who fucked up. But life goes on and you have to let it. So we didn’t work out? Maybe we never would have. Maybe it was better that we found out before we tied the knot. Maybe I’d have been the one to cheat.”