Josh tugged him down to sit on next door’s steps. “What the hell?
“He played such a fucking clever game, pretending he wasn’t that interested, reeling me in like some stupid fish. They were going to get him to stand up at that bike charity event and humiliate me just like I had Owen.”
“So you decided to do the same to Linton as you did to Owen and to Emily Jones? You need help, mate. That’s not the way to deal with stuff that upsets you. You don’t come out looking any better than those who hurt you. How did you find out what Linton was doing?”
“I had a text.”
“Who from?”
“A guy.”
“Do you know him?”
“No.”
Josh frowned. “Then how do you know he’s someone you can trust? How did he even get your number?”
“I don’t give a fuck how he got my number. I haven’t made a mistake. Did you hear Linton deny it? No, he did not. He let me down. I really… I thought he… Fuck it. He let me down. I’m sick to fucking death of not being able to trust anyone except you.”
“But you didn’t trust me, did you?” Josh said quietly. “Not enough to tell me the truth about why you and Owen broke up.”
“That wasn’t a matter of trust.”
“Wasn’t it?”
Thorne pushed to his feet. “Get rid of everyone. Ask them…ask them not talk to the press.”
“Do it yourself.”
Josh stood up and walked away. Thorne’s shoulders dropped and he went back to the house. River still stood by the door, clutching the plans Thorne had torn up. The girl from the café stood next to him. That was the only good thing to happen today, River had made a friend. But when River made eye contact with him, it was Thorne who had to look away.
As Thorne went back inside, the woman who’d planted herself on his lap sidled up and tucked her hand into the top of his trousers.
“Wanna fuck me?” she whispered.
Thorne tugged out her fingers. “No thanks.” He didn’t even know her name. He grabbed a bottle of wine, took the stairs two at a time, went into his room, locked the door and slid onto the floor, rage gone, replaced by fear. How was it possible to hate and love someone at the same time?
I don’t love Linton. I hardly know him. I’m such an idiot.
It was infatuation. The guy had played Thorne perfectly, probably working with information given to him by Owen. Christ, all that detail about Linton’s family, his mother, father, it was probably lies made up to elicit Thorne’s sympathy. And I confided in him. I fucking hate him.
When the helicopter had arrived back at The Moors after refuelling, Thorne had checked his phone and read a text message. If you want to know the truth about Linton, call me. He was too curious not to call. Thorne had listened. And as he listened, his world had come tumbling down.
Now it lay in ruins around him. And he’d done it all by himself. I almost raped him. Oh fuck. How would that have made anything right? Thorne had expected Linton to fight back, that they’d have violent punishing sex, Thorne would make him come and then tell him to fuck off. But Linton hadn’t fought back.
Thank fuck I stopped.
That call. Josh was right. He didn’t know he could trust the guy. He had a French accent. Thorne had guessed he was Linton’s ex. He should have stopped listening right then, but the guy had been right. Linton wasn’t who he said he was.
It serves me right. Linton had brought this on himself by not speaking out before, but he was seriously pissed off with Max. He should have known better than to trust him to keep quiet. Linton wouldn’t work another day for the dickhead.
When he got back to Amadeo’s place, he and his girlfriend lay entwined on the couch watching a film on TV. Linton was shocked how much seeing that hurt.
“Hi,” Linton said and made for the spare room.
“You don’t have to hide,” Amadeo called. “You’re not intruding.”
Linton came back to the door. “I am but thanks for saying I’m not.”
“Hey, what the hell happened to you? There’s blood on your face.” Amadeo pushed to his feet and Linton backed off.
“Walked into something. I’m fine.”
He retreated to the spare room, closed the door and breathed out when he was sure Amadeo hadn’t followed. Once he’d retrieved his other phone, Linton called Max. Though there was no need for two phones now.
“What are you doing ringing me at this time of night?” Max barked.
“Why did you tell Thorne you paid me to hook up with him?” Linton was shocked he sounded so calm.
“What? I didn’t.”
“Yeah you did.”
“Why the hell would I? Are you sure he knows?”
“He definitely knows.” Though Linton now wasn’t so certain Max was responsible. There would be no point in him denying it. He’d be far more likely to gloat. “If it wasn’t you, then it must have been Owen.”
Which made sense. Owen was jealous and had an easy way to wreck things for Linton.
Max groaned. “The stupid idiot. So the game’s up.”
“Thorne’s furious.”
“That’s something.”
Fuck you. Linton ground his teeth. “Is Owen still in hospital?”
“Yes. Leave him alone. He’s fragile. Let this be his revenge. Thorne pissed off is better than nothing. At least Owen’s fighting back instead of trying to top himself.”
Linton jammed his finger onto the end call button and tossed the phone onto the bed settee. He wished he’d never become involved in this. He wished he’d gone for a different option to help Dirk. Handcuffs and chains in some remote cottage. He huffed out a strained laugh. But he hadn’t gone for another option, and now he had to deal with the consequences of what he’d done.
He might as well send Dirk the other phone once he’d erased the data. His brother could chat to his new family, the one that wasn’t Linton’s and never would be. A father who wasn’t even his to be bitter and twisted about. Linton began to grind his teeth and forced himself to stop.
When he saw his face in the bathroom mirror, he gulped. No wonder people had given him weird looks on the Tube. There was a bloody streak down the side of his face from a cut on his temple. He was a little surprised no one had asked if he was okay, but maybe the look on his face had warned people off. He gingerly ran his fingers over his matted, sticky hair and felt a lump from where another stone had hit him. Linton stripped and stepped into the shower, wincing when the water hit his head.
Was there any way to put this right? Not so it had never happened, he knew that was impossible, but Linton hated that Thorne thought the very worst of him. Linton hadn’t been pretending the attraction he felt. He hadn’t lied except by omission and he knew that was bad enough, but he had fucking tried to tell Thorne.
Not hard enough.
Maybe he should just curl up, lick his wounds and start planning the rest of his miserable existence. One that wouldn’t involve architecture, Dirk or Thorne.
Dirk didn’t need him anymore now he had a family of his own.
Thorne had never needed him. He’d called Linton a coward and he was right.
But maybe there was one thing Linton could do to make himself feel better.
Early the next morning after an unsettled, largely sleepless night, Linton went to a police station and told them everything, right from when he’d found out Dirk had been attacked. He said Dirk had recognised Budak’s brother Zeki, and Ed, as the ones who attacked him, but was too afraid of Budak to admit it. Linton knew they’d need Dirk to confirm that but hoped that the brunt of the police case against the Turkish drug dealers would be on him and not his brother.
He didn’t tell the police he and Thorne had been in a relationship but if they’d asked, he wouldn’t have lied. They seemed impressed Linton had recorded his conversations with Budak, and taken pictures of his injuries following Budak’s visit, but were less pleased he hadn’t come forward sooner to report Budak for beating
him up. Though at least they photographed the remains of his bruises. Linton explained the cut on his face by telling a semi-truth, but that he hadn’t known who’d thrown the stone.
Linton asked for protection for Dirk and for Thorne and the police appeared to take him seriously, so maybe they already knew what Budak was like. He wrote out a long, detailed statement. His offer to wear a wire was declined for the time being. Apparently the rules on entrapment were complicated. But Linton left the station feeling he’d done something right, maybe stopped Budak hurting anyone else.
Owen was asleep when Linton arrived at the hospital, so he sat by the bed and waited. Their last conversation hadn’t ended well and Linton wasn’t sure Owen would even talk to him. The longer Linton sat, the more he wondered what he hoped to achieve by coming here. What was done couldn’t be undone. Thorne didn’t know the entire truth but even if he did, what difference would it make? It was just that Linton felt aggrieved Thorne had judged him without knowing the reason he’d taken the money.
When Owen stirred and saw Linton, he started.
“Did you tell Max I’d cheated on Thorne?” Owen croaked.
Of course that would be the first thing out of his mouth. Linton clamped down on his irritation. Being mad with Owen would get him nowhere.
“No, because you asked me not to. Why did you tell Thorne I’d been paid to seduce him?”
“I didn’t.”
Linton heaved a sigh. He’d had enough of these dirty games.
“It wasn’t me,” Owen said. “Why would I tell him?”
“So he wouldn’t want me anymore?” Because you wanted to hurt me as well as him?
“And confessing that was going to make him want me instead?” Owen blew out a breath. “I wouldn’t come out of this looking any better than you. I’m not stupid. I know it’s over. Yeah, I’m pissed off that you fell for him, but I did too. He’s hard to resist. But I didn’t tell him anything.”
“Nor did Max. So who else knows?”
Owen frowned. “Cindy. But she’d have no reason to blab. You must have told someone.”
Linton shook his head. “I didn’t.” He’d told Dirk, but as it turned out not until after Thorne already knew.
“What’s happened?” Owen asked. “How did you find out Thorne knew?”
“Thorne did to me what he’d done to you. Tore me to pieces in front of a crowd. Said I was a liar and a cheat. Told me I was crap in bed.” I’m not. He knows I’m not. But insecurity still raised its malicious, persuasive head.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?”
Linton sucked in his cheeks. “It does when I’m neither a liar nor a cheat. Nor crap in bed. I was blackmailed into doing this. Do it or lose your job. Do it or you’ll never work as an architect again. Do it or Dirk will find drugs easy to get, even in rehab. Do it because you let Owen down when you were kids. What choice did I have?”
He paused to take a breath. “And even with all that, I wasn’t actually going to do it. Now I’m Max’s fucking slave, drawing up plans for dog kennels, doing the coffee run for the office, and licking his shoes until I pay him back the money I used in its entirety to get Dirk into rehab. I’m not the bad guy here despite what Thorne thinks.”
Owen shifted in the bed. “Well you’ve hurt him, so you are. You did have a choice. You could have said no when we asked. You could have told Thorne everything. If you’re looking for someone to blame, you don’t have far to look.”
“Believe me, I know,” Linton retorted.
“What happened to your face?”
“Didn’t see something coming. I seem to make a habit of that.”
“What are you going to do now?”
“Nothing.” A lump formed in Linton’s throat. “Thorne won’t speak to me and I don’t blame him. I’ve hurt him and I don’t think I can ever forgive myself. I’d do anything for it not have happened but it did. So that’s it.” He pushed to his feet.
“Don’t go,” Owen whispered.
“Why? What else is there left to say?” Apart from I never want to see you again?
“I thought about what you said before and I talked to a doctor here, a psychiatrist. Told him everything right from when I was kid. I think it was easier to open up because I’m trapped in this bed. I couldn’t walk away. And you were right.”
“Right about what?”
“I loved Thorne for the wrong reasons. I thought about it a lot after you’d gone. I don’t think I’d ever really done that before. I was so convinced he was my reward for what happened when we were teenagers. A pin-up come to life. A fantasy turned into reality. Except, I don’t know if it was ever real. I fell in love with the idea that someone who was adored by so many others could be the one who loved me best of all because that made me the most important person in his life.”
Owen clenched his fists on top of the sheet. “Did I ever tell you how we met?”
Linton shook his head. He didn’t want to know.
Yeah, he did.
“We were bidding against each other at a charity event. I ended up paying a fortune for a bottle of champagne. I found him after the auction had ended and gave it him. Asked if he’d like me too.” Owen gave a shaky laugh. “I told him I’d have to stalk him if he said no. He laughed but I don’t think I was joking. I was mesmerised.
“Thorne made me believe I was special and worth loving and that was such an intoxicating feeling. But you were right. I loved Thorne the film star, the one everyone wanted, the laughing, smiling actor, not the real Thorne. I didn’t want to see any of the things that haunted him because I had enough ghosts of my own. I knew he had issues with his family but he never wanted to talk about them. I didn’t press him. I wanted to keep him happy. Yet he talked about them with you.”
Linton shrugged. “What does it matter now? Push aside what can’t be changed and get on with your life.” Great advice that Linton knew he’d have trouble following himself.
Owen cast him a sad glance. “That was more or less what the doctor said. I don’t want to die. I just want to be loved. I wanted it to be by Thorne but it was always more me than him. I was the one obsessed, not him. I think Thorne felt trapped. I never really considered telling him what happened all those years ago. The doctor made me see that was a sign maybe it wasn’t meant to be. Thorne knew I was damaged, I think that was part of the attraction, but I thought he wouldn’t want me if I told him the truth.”
“Christ, Owen.”
“Sometimes, in my dreams, I change places with you. I imagine I was the one who got away and you’d been the one they hurt… I wish you’d told me the truth.”
“That seems to be another recurring theme in my life.”
“When I escaped and came home, everyone breathed a sigh of relief. They were so happy I hadn’t been killed. Nothing else mattered because that was so rarely the outcome when that sort of thing happened. I’d returned alive and although I’d been through a horrific ordeal, everything would be all right. I’d beaten the odds. I’d survived. Being surrounded by a loving family would make everything right. Therapy would make the world turn again.” Owen gave a short laugh. “I think I’m still proving nothing worked. How do you…cope with it, remembering what they did?”
Linton closed his eyes. He didn’t want to think about it but maybe he owed this to Owen. He opened his eyes. “For a long while, I didn’t let myself remember. I’d started off pretending it hadn’t happened and I just carried on doing that in my head because I believed it kept me safe. But the truth is shame ate at me. For what happened and for keeping quiet. That day fucked me up, just like it did you.”
“You coped better than I did.”
“I don’t know about that. I coped in a different way, that’s all. The world was never going to be safe for a gay teenager but we’d been cocooned in school. That day we learned we couldn’t tell who we could trust. Those men had seemed like nice guys when they offered to show us the way. They weren’t, so how could we ever trust our instincts again? Better n
ot to trust anyone.”
Linton swallowed. “I didn’t even trust me. I was frightened of affection, but you kept looking for it. You wanted someone to love you while I decided not to believe in love. It kept my life easier, safer and simpler. I ran from commitment. Every relationship had to stay casual. If the other guy didn’t walk away, I did.”
“Was it casual with Pascal?”
“It was starting not to be. I’d never been out with anyone for so long before. The irony was that not seeing him continually kept it fresher. I had no idea he was with someone else when he wasn’t with me.”
“Max was pissed off with you.”
“And not with Pascal.” Linton gave a humourless chuckle. “Being cheated on hurts. Pascal hurt his girlfriend. I can’t forgive him for that.”
Owen sighed.
“I should have told you before that those guys raped me too,” Linton said quietly.
“Why? It wouldn’t have made me feel better.”
“Maybe it would have made you feel less alone, knowing there was one person in the world who really understood. But you never liked me. Particularly after what happened. We were friends yet not friends. Drawn together because we were gay but not through much else. I’ve never had a friend I completely trusted. I never trusted you.”
“I was mean to you. I took that guy at school because you wanted him. I took him because I wanted you to want me. And I know that’s fucked-up.”
“We weren’t well suited.”
“You avoided love, and you’re right, I was desperate for it. I’ve been afraid of losing every guy I’ve ever been out with. I held on too tight because I felt I wasn’t good enough. I pushed Thorne toward marriage. I did everything wrong.”
“You are good enough. You can get over this. But you need help, Owen. You need to keep talking to someone. For some reason you sabotaged your relationship with Thorne and I’m not sure you understand why you did it. I don’t. I doubt Thorne does. But if you can’t figure out why, you might let it happen again. This has been a shit few months but it can end now. Rise above it. Let it be your past. You’ll find someone to love who loves you back, someone you won’t even think about cheating on. Thorne wasn’t right for you.”
Dirty Games Page 29
