“No, you bloody well won’t.” He looked shocked.

  “Look, please, I know I deserve the abuse, but just let me go quietly–”

  “Go?”

  Now Louis was in the doorway as well. I’d have to be a damn shadow to get out between the pair of them. They had me trapped. Were they looking for some kind of fight?

  “You can’t go anywhere yet!” Louis cried. “The food’s already on the table. And I only buy the sticky BBQ sauce ribs for you, neither of us likes them.”

  “For God’s sake!” I flushed deeply. “I’m happy to be thrown out, but don’t expect me to eat a hearty meal before I go. Stick the bloody things in a bag and I’ll take them with me, if you’re that anally retentive to care either way.”

  “What’s he talking about?” Louis turned to Jack with genuine surprise on his face. “Thrown out?”

  “We’re having a late lunch, Max,” Jack said. He seemed to be struggling to keep his voice steady. “All of us together. Did you forget? I swapped shifts with Martin at work so I could leave early.”

  Louis nodded vigorously. “Then we’re all going to watch that new sci-fi film like we promised ourselves. Later on, the Vs are expecting us in town for a drink for their birthday. Or birthdays? I never know who or which is celebrating.” Louis was gabbling, startled and bemused, but with me, not the Vs. “Where are you going?”

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Jack said. His quiet, firm voice was back, the one I called his “practice” for his future day in court as an expert witness. He planted himself more squarely in the doorway and frowned at me. “You’re not going anywhere, Max. Well, if you really want to, I’ll listen to the reasons. But we’re not throwing you out. Dammit, why would we do that? You’re our friend. We like you here.”

  “Jack certainly does. He watches you in the shower, you know,” Louis grumbled.

  “Yes, I told you that, didn’t I?” Despite the tension of the moment, Jack smiled mischievously back at him. “And don’t you just rise to the bait every time.” His fingers reached out and ghosted over Louis’ groin.

  “Bastard,” Louis said fondly.

  There was unambiguous, comfortably familiar lust in their expressions, and I envied them for their devotion—but they still weren’t getting out of my way. “I lied to you,” I said. I’d steeled myself to leave; I wasn’t sure what was happening here. “You had no idea what shit I’d been up to in London, how I fucked up my life. You don’t need the extra hassle. I need to get out of here and sort things out for myself.”

  “Shut the hell up, you stupid arse,” Louis announced cheerfully. “We know who you are—of course we bloody well do—and we say that what’s past is past. You’re no different today than you were then.” He narrowed his eyes, looking me up and down. “Well, a bit taller, and with muscle definition I can’t, unfortunately, compete with.” He ignored Jack’s punch to his arm. “Just come and eat and keep us company through the film. Then if you don’t want to come out with the Vs, you can come back here and put all those damn things back in the cupboard, then take an early night so’s I can drag Jack to bed and screw his provocative little brains out.”

  “Not so little, you damn bimbo,” Jack growled in response.

  I stood there as they moved away from the door and back down to the living room, laughing and gasping dirty little promises that I doubted would wait to be honoured until after the film. One of my tennis shoes was still dangling from my hand. I was more than a little stunned, and not just because I knew I’d probably have to move a few rows away from them in the cinema.

  Jack reappeared halfway up the stairs, calling up to me. His expression was serious now. “We meant it, Max. We want you to stay. This is your home now.”

  “The things I’ve done—”

  “Drop it,” he said firmly but not unkindly. “Move on.”

  “The thing about running away when Stewart was killed….”

  Jack nodded. “Okay, yes, we’ll deal with that, I promise you. But we’ll talk about the best way first.”

  I stared at him. I wasn’t going to cry, you know? “Thanks, Jack. To you and Louis.”

  “Your life’s good now. You’re sound. In fact, you always were. We’ve just come different routes, Max. And we’ll watch over each other, okay?”

  “…but not in the shower!” came a mournful wail from the living room, and with a rueful grin, Jack turned to go back downstairs.

  After I’d demolished the ribs with a—not unsurprisingly—healthy appetite, I took the plates out to the kitchen. Jack followed me while Louis darted off to their bedroom to struggle with the eternally thorny question of what to wear for an afternoon in a darkened cinema. Jack picked out some fruit from the bowl on the table, lingering by the counter as I ran hot water to wash up.

  “I asked at work about Stewart,” he said. He looked wary, as if he weren’t sure if it would upset me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “About his death.”

  “His murder, you mean.”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t…?” It was an instinctive response, and I flushed with shame.

  Jack put his hand on my arm. “It’s okay, I understand. And no, I didn’t let anyone know why I was asking. Never mentioned you.”

  “What did you find out?” Jack had a bunch of contacts through work, in the police and occasionally the military too. He respected and looked after his sources, and in return, they sometimes helped him out with information.

  “Not much. It’s still an open case. I couldn’t get many details because it’s in the Met’s jurisdiction and the police down here have limited access. They’ve been alerted, though, mainly because of the possible connection between the London club and Compulsion opening up down here. It seems the Met are looking for a young kid someone saw loitering in the vicinity on that night, but no luck in finding him so far.”

  Baz…. “Do they know about Peck? Is he implicated?”

  Jack shook his head. “No one would tell me any more. I didn’t like to mention his name in case someone asked how I knew him. There was less of a problem mentioning Stewart because the attack had been in the national papers, albeit briefly. They did let slip the Met suspects the attack was connected to their investigation into the drug trade around Soho.”

  I felt cold, though the flat was warm enough. “But Stewart was nothing to do with the drug trade.”

  “No, I know, Max. And no one said he was. But they think he probably got in the way. Apparently he was talking to the police about the situation with the kids. Perhaps someone reckoned he was meddling.”

  Was that what they called it? Saving some kids from tire-track arms and cold, sad little deaths? Meddling? “So maybe not just a mugging.” I kept my voice very low. Was this really news to me? Hadn’t I always suspected it myself?

  “No, maybe not.” Jack’s voice was tentative. “You okay?”

  “I don’t know.” And wasn’t that the truth. “You say they’re investigating the drug trade?”

  “Yes.” Jack bit his lower lip. “Look, I know you think the people in charge of the clubs—”

  “The Medina family.”

  “Okay, yes, I know you think the Medinas are getting away with it, but the police aren’t stupid. They’ll have a watch on the clubs, and they probably have suspicions where it’s all coming from.”

  “But Peck’s still on the loose. No one’s been caught for Stewart’s murder.”

  “Max, give them a chance. Perhaps they don’t have enough evidence yet to arrest anyone.”

  “You said they were looking into the connection between the clubs—”

  “Only a possible connection. You don’t know that the same’s happening here—or that Seve’s involved.”

  “I don’t know he’s not.”

  Jack’s voice sharpened. “Listen to yourself, Max. You won’t give anyone a chance, not even yourself.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  Jack’s hand tightened. “Of course I bloody do! Don’t you dare turn this on me. And I don’t know any different, not for certain. But if you’re that sure you know who’s behind it all….”

  He didn’t need to finish that accusation. I was the one who’d turned tail and run away from it all. I was the one who might have evidence that could help settle things, and I couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry,” I said. I didn’t know what else to say. Sorry for the argument, sorry for the lies, sorry I wasn’t brave enough yet to turn myself in. Sorry for me.

  “There’s always Crimestoppers,” Jack said. “You can call in anonymously. Give your information over the phone.”

  “I will think about it,” I said. “I promise.”

  “It’s for your own peace of mind, Max, not mine.” Jack sighed. “Is the kid they’re after the same one you knew?”

  “It sounds like it might be.” Baz had been the most difficult to reach, the one with the least hope. My gang had tried to keep him protected from others and from himself, but who knew where he was now? And why the hell did I care, when he’d killed my friend and mentor? I had a sudden, vivid memory of Stewart, his voice, his smile, his arms full of those bloody files that he had to carry around with him almost all the time, just trying to keep up with his workload. And then the skinny body pushing up against us, the shock blindsiding me, the kid turning toward Stewart. The glint of a knife, the grunt of surprised pain….

  “Max?”

  I nodded to him. I couldn’t trust words.

  “Don’t let it get to you again. You’re building something for yourself here and now. I know life can be shit, but you can turn it around. You have!”

  After the night I’d told them about my time in London, Jack and Louis had never really quizzed me further. They’d never pushed me for details, never judged me. Just accepted it. After their initial suspicion, they’d never harassed me about Seve either. They were the good guys. “Okay,” I said. The voice that came from my mouth was strange and echoed in the kitchen. “Sure. As if I’d want to lose myself back to that now, eh?”

  As if….

  It had been just a week since I’d nearly left the flat. Things had settled back well between the three of us, and I’d finally convinced myself that the guys genuinely didn’t despise me for my aberrant life over the last couple of years. I mean, I despised myself, but that was another matter.

  And I hadn’t seen Severino Nuñez since I left his flat in Sussex Square a week ago. I hadn’t deliberately avoided going out, but I’d taken on some late shifts at the site to make up for the time I lost when I was off injured, plus Seve had said he was going to see his mother—I didn’t know how far away she lived, or if he was back yet. Besides, I had plenty of things to think about on my own.

  It was also Friday and Louis’ birthday, always an excuse for a big celebration. Jack had a party planned for Saturday night, but tonight they’d invited the usual gang around for drinks. The evening went well, but my heart wasn’t in it. I spent most of the time in the kitchen, dishing out drinks and keeping Bryan plied with food. Even the Vs didn’t venture to tease me like they usually did. Must have been something in my expression.

  I made my excuses relatively early and went up to my room, but I couldn’t sleep. I listened as Bryan trotted back and forth to the kitchen, asking in an overloud voice where the cheese was. Then Harry stood in the hallway, belched really loudly, laughed, and left with a slam of the door. The Vs were singing as they left shortly after him. It sounded like selections from ABBA, but they hadn’t quite mastered the harmonies. Last of all, there was a lot of clattering of crockery in the kitchen, then sniggering and stumbling into the wall as Jack and Louis made their way to bed.

  They were the good guys, hadn’t I always said? I didn’t begrudge them a single second of their blissful, lust-filled love, and I hoped the rest of the immediate neighbours didn’t either, because a couple of Louis’ yells had a fine resonance that could probably be heard miles away. But when the thumping of their bed finally ceased and I was still restless, I got up and went downstairs to make a hot drink.

  I sat in the semidarkness of the living room and watched my DVD of The Lavender Hill Mob on low sound and in all its black-and-white glory—always irresistible, whatever my mood—and I thanked whatever God there might be for my friends and their easy, supportive friendship, without which I’d have been lost. When I finished the drink and the end credits started to roll, I started to feel drowsy again… and, well, I couldn’t help myself. I slid a warm hand into my sleep shorts and fondled my dick. To help me sleep, I reasoned. But if I were honest, it was to soothe the vision of Seve Nuñez that disturbed my every waking thought. It was affecting my sleep as well. Seven days since I’d last seen him. Seven nights….

  I shut my eyes, seeing him in my mind, laid out in his bed beside me that morning—the naked, sleep-warmed skin, the dips and peaks of his back and buttocks. The supple movement of his body as the muscles bunched and lifted him up to lean over me. The wicked glint in his eye. The moist sheen on his lips as they nipped at my mouth, and the harsh knee between my thighs, pushing them apart. The smell of him—his cologne, his hair, his sweat, his flesh….

  I started to pump myself a little harder. I ached from deep inside. I didn’t know an ache could be so fucking deep. His vision smiled at me, eyes alight with desire. I imagined I could feel his soft dark hair on my face, and my free hand curled instinctively into a shape to grip his shoulder. His thighs were pressed on mine, the hairs on his legs tickling my balls. His voice murmured to me and his tongue licked seductively at my neck. I felt a twinge from the tooth marks in my shoulder, a souvenir of our last time together. I was panting and my hand flew up and down my cock. The agony cried for relief.

  I licked the fingers of my free hand and slid it down under my arse, probing for my entrance. It felt hot and oversensitive as I slid a finger in. I teased as I stroked my cock, and I knew I wasn’t going to last much longer. Seve—or his hallucination—was grinning at my desperation, relishing the fact he was responsible for my collapse. Seve’s voice hissed crude words in my ear; Seve’s hands were guiding my hands; Seve’s cock was warm and thick and oozing precum on my thigh, and it was nudging at my hole, demanding to come in—

  I came then, with a gulp and a quickly swallowed sob. My body arched up off the couch and the cum pumped out of me and over my hand. My climax was so intense that the TV screen blurred in front of me and tears leaked out of the corners of my eyes. My limbs shook and I sank back down on the cushions. For several minutes I couldn’t hear anything over the deafening hammering of my heart.

  I was exhausted and physically sated for the moment. I didn’t want to think about it any further. I mopped most of the mess off me with some of the paper napkins that were still scattered on the table. Then I pulled one of the throws off the armchair over me and slid into a few hours of oblivious sleep.

  The next morning, I was eating a bowl of cereal in the kitchen when Jack sidled in, looking tired and with his hair all over the place. His pajama bottoms were twisted awkwardly at one side and hung low on the hip, a strip of his dark skin peeking over the top. He yawned a greeting to me, hitched up his waistband, and groaned.

  I grinned at him. “Hangover?”

  He ignored me pointedly, which confirmed it. “You’ve remembered tonight’s party?” he said.

  “What about it?”

  “Just wanted to check you’re still coming. I mean, with it being at Compulsion.”

  “Of course I am,” I replied. I concentrated on keeping my expression steady. “Did Louis get the dance contract?”

  Jack’s eyes brightened. “Yes. Great, isn’t it? He’s still keen on his acting, but this means he can earn some money here in Brighton in between TV bookings. He wants to see the guys at the club tonight, share the good news.”

  I moved along the counter and put my empty bowl in the sink. “So do you want a coffee, or is that one of those redundant questions?” I turned back, the coffee jar in my hand, to find him peering at me.

  “You stayed on the couch last night, Max. Are you having trouble sleeping again?”

  I’d forgotten to put the throw back in its place, obviously. “I’m fine. You’re the one looks like something the cat dragged in.”

  He blushed and we laughed, though it made him wince. “Okay,” he said. “Just wanted to check. If Seve’s there tonight….”

  “That’s fine too,” I said. I was proud of the way my voice sounded almost normal. “You taking Louis breakfast in bed?”

  We bustled quietly about the kitchen, fixing orange juice, coffee, lightly browned toast, and plenty of honey for the birthday boy’s favourite breakfast. I was fascinated and amused at Jack’s devotion—I hadn’t celebrated my birthday in any way for years.

  Jack reached across the front of me to grab a spoon from the kitchen drawer. “So did you find anything useful at the Jubilee Library?”

  “I… what?”

  Jack smirked, no other word for it. “We often use the library, and I sent a research student down there yesterday. Suzie’s a local girl, and she told me her friend Will who works there couldn’t stop talking about the fit bloke who’d been in to browse through the newspaper section. Will—and Suzie—gave a very detailed description.”

  “Can’t keep a secret from you, can I?” I didn’t know if I was annoyed at being caught out or reassured that Jack had my back.

  “It’s only a visit to the library,” Jack said. “Though I think Will is angling for something more.”

  I rolled my eyes. I vaguely remembered the man on the desk when I went in—tall, curly blond hair, helpful smile, eyes following me as I searched out newspaper articles over the last year.

  “Did you find what you were looking for?” Jack was still nosing around, but he was treading carefully too.