Dirty Games

by Barbara Elsborg

  For the time being, working for DRA was the sensible thing to do. Linton had bills to pay for the flat he’d left and ought to give Amadeo something toward the cost of sharing his place. Plus he needed money to live, no matter what he ended up doing, so for the time being he’d suck it up and be whatever Max wanted.

  The weather was good so he went for an early morning run, down through Greenwich, past the university and into the park. It made a change to run this side of the river but no use wishing he could change much else about his life. Things were as they were and he just had to get on with living. Except each time he tried to think about the future, sadness swamped everything.

  He was pretty sure it had been Max who’d told Thorne about their arrangement even though Max had denied it. There was little point pressing him. It would make no difference. Two more weeks until his salary reached his account and then Linton was out of there. But where should he go? While there were still tourists in the seaside resorts, maybe he could walk the beaches and find people who’d pay him for portraits of their kids. Probably not legal but it would be cash in his pocket.

  Linton went into work with Amadeo, and posted the phone and charger to Dirk on the way.

  “How long do you think you’ll be in the doghouse?” Amadeo asked as they stepped into the lift of their office building.

  “No idea.”

  “I dunno what Max is thinking. It’s a waste getting you to do that sort of work. You’re well beyond Daisy’s level.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  Amadeo gave him a quizzical look. “Well you should. You okay? You seem…off.”

  “I am.”

  “Want to talk about it?”

  “Not really. I made a mistake. Now I’m paying for it.”

  “A work mistake?”

  Linton shook his head. “Personal.”

  As Linton reached his desk he widened his eyes. It had been cleared of all his things: computer, container of pencils, his fancy sharpener, all his books and drawing pads.

  “What the fuck?” Amadeo looked around.

  “You’re next to me,” Daisy called.

  His stuff was piled on a small desk crammed into a too tight a space. Linton sat down and rearranged everything the way he liked as best he could. The chair was a crap one but he wasn’t going to complain. He switched on his computer and logged on.

  He’d been working for an hour before an email from Max pinged into his inbox. Get the coffees.

  Linton pushed to his feet. “I’m just going to the café,” he told Daisy.

  “You want me to go?”

  “It’s fine. Max told me to do it.”

  As he exited the lift on the ground floor, he spotted Pascal just coming into work. Each time Linton saw him, he felt more over him.

  “Where are you going?” Pascal asked.

  “To collect the coffees.”

  “I’ll give you a hand.”

  “I don’t need a hand.”

  Pascal turned and walked back outside with him. “You used to like my hand.” He grinned.

  Oh fuck off.

  “I have a proposition for you,” Pascal said as they walked around the corner of the building.

  Linton didn’t say anything. He wasn’t interested. Not in Pascal’s good looks, his French accent, his hard body or his lying, cheating heart.

  “Come and work for me in the Paris office.”

  Linton hadn’t expected that. If it hadn’t been Pascal who was asking, Paris would he been perfect.

  “I can see you and Max have fallen out. He’s wasting your talent. I’m sure I can persuade him you’d be better off there.”

  “And your ulterior motive?” He pushed open the door to the café and didn’t bother to hold it for Pascal. It smacked him on the arm and Linton felt a perverse pleasure when he heard Pascal grunt in pain.

  “I still want you,” Pascal whispered as they stood in line.

  “You have a girlfriend and a baby. You don’t need me as well.”

  “Yeah I do.”

  Linton smiled at the young barista who’d recognised him and waved. She lifted a box onto the counter. Linton thanked her, picked it up and made his way to the door.

  Pascal opened it for him. “Don’t let Max side-line you.”

  Linton headed back toward the office. “Thanks for the offer, but I don’t think working for you would be the right thing to do.”

  “We were good together. We can be good again.”

  “And is Sophie okay with that?”

  “It will make me happy. Then she’ll be happy.”

  Linton’s shoulders felt the weight of Sophie being unhappy. Pissed off as he was with Pascal, he didn’t want Sophie to be miserable.

  Pascal sighed. “I couldn’t tell you about her. I didn’t want to lose you.”

  “But you lost me anyway.”

  Not hard to see the parallel. Stay quiet in order to keep someone. Open your mouth and lose them anyway. For a brief moment Linton felt sympathy for Pascal, until he reminded himself that a woman and child had also been the victims of Pascal’s deception.

  Pascal skipped ahead and forced Linton to stop. “Come out with me for dinner tonight. We can talk properly.”

  Linton shook his head and walked around him. “You let me down. You don’t get a second chance.” Not you but maybe someone else.

  “You think you still have a chance with Thorne Morrisey?”

  Linton stumbled to a halt and tightened his grip on the box. “How do you know about Thorne?”

  “Was he pissed off about Max’s little scheme to get revenge? I bet he was.”

  “You told him?”

  Pascal’s lip curved in a way Linton used to think was attractive but now found almost repulsive.

  “I overheard you and Max in his office.” Pascal shrugged. “He has a loud voice. Not difficult to put two and two together particularly after I’d chatted to a few people. I found Morrisey’s number on file. Max hadn’t deleted the work he did for him.”

  “Does Max know you told Thorne?”

  Linton didn’t miss the flicker of uncertainty that swept across Pascal’s face.

  “Only four of us knew,” Linton said. “And then there was you. I don’t even need to say anything. Max’ll work it out.” That made him smile briefly. “The sad thing is that at one time I’d have loved to work for you in Paris. You’re a passionate and talented architect. You were someone I actually thought one day I might be able to… Yeah, well that moment passed. I wish you well, Pascal. Don’t bother me anymore.”

  “I don’t give up so easily.”

  Linton swallowed his groan and carried on toward the office. Two more weeks and he’d never have to see the guy again. He didn’t have to see anyone again. Even Dirk. That no one needed him should have made Linton happy, instead it depressed him.

  Thorne waited across the road from Linton’s office building as the staff poured out at the end of the day. He had no idea what time Linton would finish, but work had been the only place he could think of to find him. Linton’s phone was still going to voicemail after one ring. Thorne was almost sure he hadn’t missed him in the mass exodus but as the outflow of people slowed to a trickle, then more or less stopped, he didn’t know what to think. Had he even been in there?

  You could have called him at work, idiot! Thorne clenched his teeth. He’d not been thinking straight. He looked up the number, but the switchboard was closed. He was just wondering if he should return the next morning when he saw Linton exiting, closely followed by a tall guy with silver grey hair.

  When the guy put his hand on Linton’s shoulder, Thorne bristled but Linton shrugged it off. They didn’t exactly look as if they were arguing but Thorne was good at reading body language and Linton wasn’t happy.

  Now what are you going to do? Walk over there? Follow him? Go home?

  As he was trying to make up his mind, the scream of an accelerating car drowned out everything. He turned to see a silver SUV racing down the r
oad toward where Linton and the guy stood waiting to cross. Thorne thought it was just some prat showing off but when the SUV mounted the pavement, Thorne’s heart leapt into his throat and he sprinted across the road.

  He heard a squeal of brakes and a taxi almost clipped him, but the SUV was still bearing down on Linton and the guy with him. Thorne was afraid to shout a warning in case it distracted Linton but the SUV was getting nearer and Thorne couldn’t help himself. “Look out!”

  Even as Thorne shouted, Linton realised what was happening and shoved the guy out of the way. Then the car was on them, over them before it slammed into a post, and Thorne couldn’t see Linton or the other guy. They had to be on the pavement. Or under the car. Oh fuck.

  What the hell had happened? Had someone’s foot stuck on the accelerator? It couldn’t have been deliberate, could it? As he reached the far side of the road, a black car screeched to a halt between him and the SUV that had mown Linton down. A police car pulled up at the front and blocked in the SUV. What the hell?

  He stood in bewilderment as armed police officers piled out of both vehicles and dragged open the doors of the SUV. Someone tugged at Thorne’s arm and he jerked free.

  “Sir, I need to you move away,” a guy said to Thorne.

  Thorne took no notice. He scrambled around the police car and found himself rugby tackled to the ground.

  “Keep still,” a man hissed in his ear.

  Thorne could see the guy who’d been with Linton sitting on the pavement, his face white with shock. The police were holding—oh God. Thorne recognised one of the guys. He’d seen him attacking Dirk.

  “My friend. Where is he?” Thorne asked.

  “Lie still.”

  Thorne craned his neck trying to see what was happening. “Please. Just check he’s okay. Not under the car. Please.”

  “You have to wait.”

  Thorne struggled but the weight of the guy leaning on him kept him flat on his face. Please be okay. Don’t you dare die until I’ve told you I’m sorry. Shit, don’t you dare die.

  Sorry for not letting you tell me what you wanted to.

  Sorry for saying all those things.

  Sorry for throwing stones at you.

  Sorry for throwing your affection back in your face.

  It felt a lifetime passed before the man allowed Thorne to get up. There was an ambulance on the scene now.

  “Hey, aren’t you Thorne Morrisey?” asked the policeman who’d held him.

  “Yes.” Thorne took one step and froze. Paramedics were bent over a figure near the front wheels of the SUV. He was afraid to take another step, but he was more afraid not to.

  The relief when he saw Linton was conscious and talking almost felled Thorne at the knees. But the blood on Linton’s face worried him. Linton stopped talking when he saw Thorne staring at him. But before Thorne could reach him, the guy he’d seen with Linton, his face bloody and scraped, dust all over his suit, dropped to his knees at Linton’s side.

  “Oh God, are you okay, chéri?”

  French accent. This had to be Pascal, Linton’s former lover. The one who’d set the final play rolling. Thorne had a sudden urge to kill him. Well, not really, but yeah he did.

  “You saved my life,” Pascal whispered.

  Linton tried to push away the paramedics that were checking him out.

  “Let them do their job,” Thorne said.

  Linton glanced at him then turned his head away.

  Thorne bit back his gasp of disappointment. Oh God, that was painful, but it’s what I deserve.

  “Shall I phone Dirk?” Pascal asked. “What’s his number?”

  “No,” Linton croaked.

  A paramedic took Pascal’s elbow and guided him to sit on the ambulance step. Thorne moved closer to Linton.

  “We’re going to take you to St. Thomas’s,” said a paramedic kneeling at Linton’s side. “Just to be safe.”

  Thorne stepped back as they loaded Linton into the ambulance along with Pascal. He was reassured that it didn’t leave with its siren blaring. Thorne wanted to go straight to the hospital but the police had other ideas. Now he wanted to leave, they wouldn’t let him.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Linton closed his eyes in the ambulance. A paramedic was sticking things onto his chest, into his arm, asking if anything was causing him pain. Everything was causing him pain. Pascal kept talking, fussing over him and it was pissing Linton off. If Pascal really cared about him, he wouldn’t have hurt him. Linton supposed it was a good sign that he could even feel pissed off because he was having trouble getting his head around what had happened.

  And what had Thorne been doing there?

  Linton had seen the SUV coming, and as he registered there was something wrong, that it was moving too fast, the sound of the engine too loud, he instinctively shoved Pascal backwards as he tried to get them both out of the way. Not quick enough. The vehicle had mounted the path and caught him a glancing blow. Linton had been sent flying so that for a long moment he really was flying before he smacked back to earth.

  He ached, but he was okay. No severed limbs. No broken bones. No major cuts. His important bits still intact. And yes, he’d checked as soon as he’d come round and been able to move. He thought he’d only been unconscious for a short while, but when he’d first opened his eyes, for a moment—too long a moment—nothing had worked, not fingers nor toes, and Linton was terrified he might have broken his back.

  But he hadn’t.

  An oxygen mask was strapped over his face, he felt the prick of a needle, the touch of unfamiliar hands, and the world faded to grey. Linton remained vaguely aware of what was happening around him, but it was as if he wasn’t part of it. He was cold, shivering and heard someone say he was in shock before he was wrapped in a crinkly blanket.

  By the time they reached the hospital his awareness had returned. He was X-rayed, scanned and finally given a diagnosis. He was concussed, had scraped and banged up the right side of his body, but he was a lucky guy.

  Define lucky.

  Yeah, he knew. Lucky I’m not dead. Ironic really that deep down, Linton had several times that day thought he might as well be dead. Though now he’d actually nearly died, he was desperate to live. He was told he needed to be kept under observation, and couldn’t go home yet.

  What home?

  The police interviewed him, but it had all happened so fast Linton hadn’t been sure what was going on. His thought process had swung from—what a pillock, revving an engine like that, to—shit, he’s coming up onto the pavement—fuck, he’s going to hit us. Only after he discovered Budak had been behind the wheel did Linton understand he’d survived an attempt to kill him rather than having been the victim of some freak accident. The police must have been watching either him or Budak to have got there so quickly.

  The SUV had been stolen. The police told him one of Budak’s guys had been waiting a few streets away out of sight of CCTV cameras ready for a vehicle exchange, but that guy been under observation too. The police apologised for not having acted in time to stop Budak hitting him. But how could they have known he’d planned to kill him? The bigger question that Linton had failed to ask was how Budak had discovered Linton had spoken to the police.

  But knowing everyone he cared about was safe now Budak and the others were in custody allowed Linton to finally fall into an exhausted sleep.

  When he opened his eyes, Thorne sat next to the bed staring at him. Linton blinked a couple of times but he wasn’t hallucinating. It was Thorne sitting there looking pale and worried, his lips pressed into a tight line. Linton hadn’t thought he’d ever speak to Thorne again, that the only time he’d see him would be in a film or on the TV and that it would probably hurt for a while but he’d get over it. Eventually. But Linton wasn’t sure he wanted to speak to him. His heart was too fragile. It hurt to even look at him. More cruel words might destroy him.

  “How are you feeling?” Thorne asked.

  As if you care. One thi
ng topped every ache and pain. “Sad. But I’m alive. So you can go now.”

  Thorne’s eyes widened.

  “Was there something else you wanted?” Linton asked. “You’ve done the concerned bit.”

  “I am concerned. Shit, Linton. I need to talk to you.”

  “Haven’t you said enough?”

  Thorne shuddered. “I said too much.”

  Linton’s heart thumped. “What were you doing outside the place I work?” Worked.

  “I’d been looking for you since the morning after the party. There were things I wanted to say to you.”

  “I’m a sitting target in this bed. I can’t go anywhere. Say what you want to say and go.” Before my heart shatters.

  Thorne’s shoulders dropped and he lowered his head. “I’m sorry.”

  Linton took a deep breath. “I’m sorry too.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Thorne looked straight at him, almost glaring. “Nothing.”

  “I should have told you.”

  “You fucking tried.” Thorne took a deep breath and his head dropped again. “I have no right to even come here and speak to you. You should tell me to get lost but please don’t, not until I’ve managed to say what I came here to say.”

  Linton didn’t miss the irony in that. Thorne had refused to listen to him now he was begging Linton to not to do the same. Thorne couldn’t even look him in the face.

  “I have fucked up so badly,” Thorne whispered. “I don’t deserve to be forgiven. I don’t deserve to ask you for another chance, but I can’t not ask you.”

  “What’s changed since Saturday night?” Linton asked.

  “I went to see Owen. Just after you’d been to see him. He told me why you went along with his and Max’s plan to seduce then humiliate me. About their threats.”

  Oh God. What had Owen said? “I would never have done it. That was what I kept trying to tell you. I might have said I’d do it, but even before I met you, I never had any intention of going through with it.” Linton groaned. “Every time I thought I was going to tell you, something happened. You were too happy. Then Owen crashed the car. After that I had the call about Dirk. I was looking for the right moment and I left it too late.”