"Not quite."

The sensation of Tyler painting on his back had both relaxed him and made him h.o.r.n.y as h.e.l.l. Several times, he'd had to slide his hand under his body to adjust his c.o.c.k and each time Tyler snapped at him not to move.

"You won't be able to keep the paint on in case you're allergic. But I wish you could. Wow, I've given that dolphin such a cheeky smile."

"What have you painted on my b.u.t.t?"

"You'll have to wait and see."

Haris smiled into the pillow. He didn't care if it looked like c.r.a.p. No one had touched his back in a long time and he could still scarcely believe he was letting Tyler do this.

Finally, Tyler climbed off the bed and put the paints aside. "Okay, you're done. I wish I had an airbrush. It would look even better."

Haris levered himself up and padded to the closet. Tyler leaned against the door watching, his c.o.c.k rigid, and Haris smiled.

When he looked in the mirror facing him to see the reflection in the one behind, the breath froze in his lungs. He managed to blink, thinking he wasn't focusing properly but he was.

"Oh my G.o.d," he muttered.

"Yeah, well you should be careful about using his name while you're painted like that."

Tyler had covered his back, his b.u.t.t and half way down his thighs with two broken wings. The feathers looked solid enough to be real. He'd used some of the scar lines as quills and shafts. Haris couldn't believe he was looking at his back.

"Well?" Tyler asked.

"You'll have to point out the dolphin. I can't quite spot it in the waves."

Tyler laughed.

"It looks...amazing."

"While you let those scars affect what you do, you're allowing your punishment to continue. It's done. You need to move on. s.h.i.t, that was brilliant advice. I just wish I could follow it myself."

"Come here," Haris said.

Tyler stepped into his arms.

"This is the most fantastic thing anyone has ever done for me. I don't want to wash it off. I wish I could keep it forever."

He pressed his mouth to Tyler's and kissed him. When Tyler's hands slid to his hips, Haris jerked back. "No, take a photo before it gets ruined. My camera's in the top drawer in my dresser."

"Come back into the bedroom then. You'll look better against a blank wall."

He felt better. How was that possible? How could a temporary painting make him feel like a different person?

"Pose," Tyler said.

"What?"

"Stand facing the wall and look back over your shoulder. You can stand with your legs together, legs apart, pressed up against the wall, hands on the wall, hands off the wall. Just keep posing."

"I was thinking of one picture."

Tyler smiled. "Be a super model."

Haris let himself slide into the role. He allowed his guards down and pretended to be someone else until he felt like someone else. A fallen angel but a better man.

Chapter Fifteen.

Tyler kept hitting the wrong note as he practiced at college. Every f.u.c.king time at the same point in the piece. His mind was not on the music but on Haris. Things were really good between them so why did Tyler's self-destruct b.u.t.ton keep telling him to confess the rest? He'd gone over and over what he needed to say, but no matter what combination he came up with, he just couldn't find the right words. Because the bottom line-oh yeah, great phrase there, f.u.c.kwit-was that he was trade, a rent boy, a wh.o.r.e, a guy who had s.e.x with others for money. He might not have walked the streets wriggling his a.s.s but he'd done as good as. The fact that he considered himself a cut above the rest was laughable. He wanted to forget any of it had ever happened, but he had a feeling deep in his gut that it was all going to come back to bite him.

So tell him. And tell him you don't want his money. That you're not with him for that.

Every time he'd looked at Haris's happy face, felt his arms around him and his c.o.c.k unfurl against his belly, he chickened out. The only positive thing was that Tyler would never sell himself again. Getting involved with someone had been the mistake he'd forecast, but he couldn't help it. It had been much easier to accept his lifestyle when it had no impact on anyone but him. d.a.m.n the money, the debt. He'd do what normal people did and work it off in the conventional way.

And what happens when Haris finds out about Prescott and his parties? What happens when he knows there are movies of me sucking guys' d.i.c.ks, swallowing their come, letting them line up to f.u.c.k me?

It wasn't only Haris who might be p.i.s.sed off. What do I say if what I've done has wrecked the band's chance of success?

I'll tell him. I'll tell them.

But not yet.

Coward.

One more day.

And then one day more.

I'll tell Haris on Friday. I won't tell the band yet. We might not be going anywhere in any case.

He stayed late into the evening in college, playing until his mind was empty and the pieces were as perfect as he was going to get them. By the time he left, there was no one else around. Haris had told him he was out tonight on some company business and wasn't sure what time he'd be back. Wilson was with him. Tyler looked forward to s...o...b..ng in front of the TV with Alcide, though he wasn't supposed to let the dog into the lounge. Maybe he'd buy fish and chips on the way home. He didn't suppose he was allowed those in there either.

Then it struck him what he'd said. Home. Oh G.o.d.

Tyler pulled on his coat and hat and made his way out of the college grounds, still grinning. He was almost at the Tube station when he felt his mobile vibrate. His heart sank when he read Jeremy's text. Need you now. Please come to flat. I'm in big trouble.

Not a-b.l.o.o.d.y-gain. Tyler called him but there was no answer.

He muttered under his breath. He didn't want to go to see Jeremy but if he didn't, and something had happened, the guilt would eat him alive. He texted back. I'll b there in 30.

Haris stood in the kitchen next to Wilson.

"You know what you have to do?" Stan said over the phone.

"Yes. Wilson's memorized the route. We wait for instruction from you as to whether we take it or not."

"Obviously, there's no point if you're not followed, but we'll give it a while and see if a car picks you up."

"Okay."

"Well, ready when you are, and keep to the plan unless you hear otherwise from me."

Haris put the phone back in his pocket.

"Are we a 'go', sir?"

Haris nodded.

"I'll bring the car around to the front of the house."

"Fine."

"Not beginning to regret declining the bullet-proof option on the car?"

Haris barked out a laugh. "There wasn't a bullet-proof option."

"Indeed there was, sir. Sixty thousand pounds for the vehicle to be armored."

"I don't think we have anything to worry about, Wilson."

"I'm not entirely happy with the word 'think'."

He smiled. "I can't think of any reason why someone would want to shoot at me."

"I suspect most people who are shot at think exactly the same in that moment between seeing the gun and feeling the bullet hit them."

"Go and get the car."

"Yes, sir."

Haris headed out the front of the house and locked up. It was tempting to check the road for a white Fiat or a black Peugeot, but he kept his gaze fixed ahead. All that talk about bullets had set him on edge and it was ridiculous. If someone wanted to shoot him, they'd had plenty of opportunity. This was about something else.

Even so, he gave a mental sigh of relief when he was sitting in the back of the car and Wilson pulled away.

"Where did you tell Tyler you were going tonight?" Wilson asked. "Just so we have our stories straight."

"Business meeting in Richmond."

He tapped out a message to Tyler. Don't take Alcide into drawing room. Then he smiled. Tyler and Alcide had bonded and Wilson adored the dog even though he pretended not to. Haris suspected this was the animal that would stay with them.

Tyler texted back. Text him. It's him who wants to take me in there. Haris laughed.

When Stan called several minutes later, Haris wasn't surprised to hear they had no tail. Wilson had been giving him a running commentary on every car he'd seen behind them and hadn't spotted anything suspicious.

"What do you want to do?" Haris asked Stan.

"We might as well call it a night and try again tomorrow. Before you go home, pull up next to the row of shops coming up on your left. I want to give you something."

Haris put the phone back in his pocket. "Wilson, park on the left by those shops, please."

As Stan pulled in behind, Wilson unlocked the doors. Stan climbed in the back.

"Do you think whoever's been following spotted you?" Haris asked.

"It's possible, but I doubt it. I've had three cars tailing you at different times and none of my drivers saw any vehicle stay behind for more than a couple of turns." He sighed and put a brown envelope on the seat between them.

"What's that?" Haris asked.

Stan kept his fingers on the envelope and Haris's heart thumped hard against his ribs.

"Something that's just turned up." He flipped the envelope over and Haris saw Tyler's name written on it. "There's no way I'd have uncovered this in a routine search but someone in my office thought he recognized him from something else he'd been investigating and this is the result." He took his hand off the envelope. "You need to be sure you want to open it. Don't be too quick to judge without knowing all the facts."

What the f.u.c.k does that mean?

"Do you know all the facts?" Haris asked.

"No, though it's not hard to guess. Remember, without compa.s.sion, we're nothing."

Haris sat staring at the envelope after Stan got out of the car.

"Home, sir?"

"Yes."

He might have told himself all the way home that he wouldn't open the envelope, but when he arrived back to find Tyler still out, he sat at his desk and accepted there was no way he could leave it sealed. It wasn't the way he worked. Information was power. It was everything. He ran his finger along the seal and tipped out the contents.

Haris had sort of expected what he found. Photographs of Tyler, naked, on his knees, sucking...oh h.e.l.l. He was still shocked. Stan had listed a number of Internet sites and Haris a.s.sumed it was more of the same. Disappointment stole his energy and he sagged, but he wasn't as shocked as Stan thought he'd be. He'd already a.s.sumed there was back story about Tyler he wouldn't like after he'd discovered he'd been paid to appear at the BDSM show. The important thing was he'd given whatever this was up once they'd come to their agreement. As long as that was true, it made no difference to the way he thought about him.

Did it?

What right did he have to pa.s.s judgment when he'd offered money to Tyler to have s.e.x with him? There was a difference between f.u.c.king one guy and a whole room full, but Tyler'd had a terrifying experience of what being in debt could do to someone and though his reasoning for not wanting to be in debt was flawed, Haris did understand the strong pull of desperation. Tyler must have thought all his ships had come in at once when he'd offered him twenty thousand for four months on his back, on all fours-oh f.u.c.k it.

It serves me right. He was the one who'd started this off. Why had he even offered him money? For all he knew, Tyler would have gone out with him, given up the night job and they'd have lived happily ever after with their butler and their little dog. Haris gripped the envelope so tight he tore it. Cloud-f.u.c.king-cuckooland. He pulled out the first envelope Stan had given him and thrust the contents of the second inside.

Everything would have worked out fine if he hadn't fallen for the guy.

Jeremy still wasn't answering his phone which was f.u.c.king annoying. If it was just a ploy to get him here, he was going to be seriously p.i.s.sed off. He tried him again before he let himself into the building and climbed the stairs. When he heard a mobile ringing out on the other side of the door, Tyler hesitated. Why wasn't Jeremy answering? Was he even here?

He ran his gaze over the text Jeremy had sent and a flicker of uncertainty stirred in his belly. Not his usual clipped style. Was he trying to warn him of something? Or maybe someone else had sent it. Tyler licked dry lips. He might open the door and find Gerald waiting. He looked back at the stairs and considered running, but if Jeremy was in trouble...

Before he could convince himself not to, he unlocked the door and pushed it open. The room was dim but he made out a figure lying on the bed. There was no sign of anyone else. What's that smell? He pushed the door closed behind him and switched on the light.