Last_Line by Harper

Author:Harper
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: FoxTales
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

“Why didn’t you tell me there was someone else in your life?”

Michael started. He and John were leaning with their elbows on the South Bank rail, a fanciful medieval dolphin grinning down at them. For the past quarter hour they had been watching the Thames in silence. Outside of business and civilities, these were the first words John had addressed to him in the three days of their undercover. And Michael couldn’t for the life of him think of an answer.

“If you had, I’d never have chased you round the way I did. I must’ve been a real pain in the arse.”

John hadn’t taken his eyes off the water. Michael turned and glanced around them, making sure he did so with the weary stiffness of the hungry down-and-out he was meant to be. There was no one within earshot. “He wasn’t in my life,” he said grimly. “It was a long time ago.”

“Three years. Or quite a bit less than that, if we’re counting from Thursday.”

Thursday. Michael’s shoulders sagged. He was cold beneath his duffle coat in spite of the warm June sun. He’d wondered if John would consign Thursday to the same pit of oblivion he himself had tried to prepare for it. Shouldn’t have underestimated him. Michael remembered it in scraps. A fast ride home in the BMW, then arrival at the flat. Arguing with Anzhel in fierce muted Russian, telling him—begging him—to go back to the safe house and let him alone. That whatever there had been between them was over, long dead and buried. He had given up and gone to take a shower, feeling filthy from the marrow out.

The door had clicked. There had been a weird, sweet music. Then he had been burning up into violent orgasm, with someone—Christ, with Anzhel—fucking him hard. Blood all over the place, his skin striped by shallow cuts. And somehow John had been in the room.

Wake up, Mikhaili. John’s here.

“Did you see much of that?” Mike asked miserably.

“Enough to get the gist.”

“It wasn’t…”

“If you tell me it wasn’t what it looked like, I think I’ll chuck one of us into the river.”

“No. It was what it looked like. It’s just not what you… I can’t explain.”

John gave up his perusal of the river and turned to face him. “Mikey, I love you, but he had his cock up your arse. He wasn’t in there looking for the soap.”

Michael’s mouth opened. For a long moment, he and John stared at one another. Then pained, involuntary laughter tore from both of them. “Don’t,” Michael said. “It’s not bloody funny.”

“No, I know it isn’t. Is he coercing you? Forcing you?”

Yes. Yes, surely. But when Michael had checked himself over on Thursday night, apart from the cuts there hadn’t been a mark on him to excuse what he had done. And then there had been the times since… “No.”

“Are you still fucking him?”

A silence, too deep for the purr of passing pleasure boats and the splash of the Thames to penetrate. At last John said, with difficulty, “All right.

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