With or Without Him (19 page)

“No,” Haris muttered.

Tyler threw back the cover and rolled out of bed. It was all he could do to walk across the carpet without collapsing. Once he’d closed the door, he leaned against the wall and took a shaky breath. He thought he’d buried those memories deep enough but he was wrong. He made his way upstairs and collapsed on the bed.

Why the hell had he dreamed of that tonight? Had something triggered the memory?

In an attempt at distraction, he picked up his mobile, wondering if there were any more vitriolic messages from Prescott. If the prick found out about Haris and threatened to tell him about the parties, what would Haris do?

Kick me out.

But he wouldn’t go back to Prescott. He’d have to think of another way to earn money. Whoring for someone else. Tyler gave a heavy sigh.

Nothing from Prescott but five missed calls and five voicemails from Jeremy. The last only a few minutes ago. At this time of night it could only be bad news. Guilt that he’d left the guy to face Gerald guided his finger to the button.

“Tyler, please pick up. Please. I need help.”

He sat up. All the messages said virtually the same thing but Jeremy grew more and more frantic. Tyler called him.

Jeremy spoke before he could. “Thank fuck, thank fuck. Christ, where are you? You have to help me.”

“What the hell’s wrong?”

“Gerald. The guy’s fucking crazy. He followed me home.”

“Shit.”

“I’m in a mess. I managed to get out of a window at my place and clamber down the drainpipe but I don’t have anywhere to go. Can I come to you? Please. Please.”

Tyler sighed and gave him the address of his flat. “I’m not there, but I’ll come. Should take me about forty minutes.”

“Thank you.”

As he pulled on his clothes, it occurred to him it could be a trick. Prescott pulling Jeremy’s strings? But what if he’d threatened to do something to Jeremy if he didn’t persuade him to come? The freaked out tone of Jeremy’s voice had alarmed him. Tyler would just have to be careful in case he was wrong and Jeremy was a brilliant actor.

He called a cab company and gave them Haris’s address. He begrudged paying a taxi fare but at this hour there were only night buses running and at such a low frequency it would take a couple of hours to get back to his place. If he got there sooner than he’d said, he might be able to work out whether or not it was a trap.

Tyler hesitated on the next floor down and then crept past Haris’s bedroom. Hopefully he was asleep and wouldn’t even know he’d left. He picked up the key in the hall and quietly exited the house.

He’d intended to make the cab driver go past his place without stopping so he could see if there was anyone suspicious hanging around, but when he spotted Jeremy hunched on the step, he told the man to pull up. Tyler had to pay him with his debit card. If this was some ruse of either Prescott or Jeremy, he was going to be fucking pissed. After the taxi drove away, Tyler approached Jeremy and when he saw the state of him, his doubts evaporated.

Jeremy pushed himself to his feet and tried to smile. “You came.”

Tyler spun round when he heard a vehicle slow. A white car but it kept moving. He breathed a sigh of relief and used his key to open the door. “Second floor.”

He followed Jeremy upstairs and unlocked his flat. Once they were inside and the light was on, Tyler sucked in a breath. One of Jeremy’s eyes was almost closed it was so swollen. His mouth was bruised, his cheek grazed and blood trickled from his nose. Tyler shuddered and looked away from the blood.

“What the hell happened?” he asked.

“Gerald.”

He tugged Jeremy to the bathroom, sat him on the edge of the tub, wet a cloth and pushed it into his hand.

“You’ll have to clean yourself up. I’m not good with blood. I might pass out. And if you ever tell anyone that, I’ll kill you.”

While he waited for Jeremy, he packed up some of his things. He might as well take them back to Haris’s when he left.

Jeremy emerged not looking a whole lot better but at least the blood was gone.

“You need to go to the hospital?”

“No. I’m okay.”

“What about a drink?” Tyler asked. “Tea or coffee or something. Well, there isn’t any something, only water and there’s no milk.”

He shook his head. “You were right. I’m an idiot.” He perched gingerly on the bed, balled his hands into fists and then sagged.

Tyler sat next to him.
Not my fault, not my fault.
So why did he feel it was? “Prescott didn’t stop him?”

“He didn’t do this at the party, though he was pretty rough there. He and Prescott took me to a different apartment a few floors down. There were cameras and…I didn’t agree to being tied up so they…persuaded me. Gerald wanted both of us and when he found out you weren’t coming, he was really pissed off.”

More worms of guilt nibbled at Tyler’s stomach. It wasn’t going to help reminding Jeremy that he’d warned him.
But I fucking did.

“I would have been okay. Prescott gave me seven hundred quid and I got another three from Gerald.” He managed a little smile but it faded fast. “Except Gerald followed me home without me realizing. Didn’t listen to no. He r…” Jeremy sucked in a noisy breath. “The bastard.”

“He raped you?” Tyler whispered.

Jeremy nodded but wouldn’t look at him. “I mean, I wasn’t going to stop him fucking me once he was there because I didn’t want to get hurt and he’d already done it earlier that evening, but he wouldn’t slow down, wouldn’t wait. Hurting me was the whole point. That’s what he wanted to do.” He groaned. “And that’s what he did. The moron tried to cuddle afterwards and I told him I needed the bathroom. I snuck my clothes in with me and climbed out of the window. Bloody hell, I hate heights. I nearly broke my neck. I didn’t know where to go. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.” It wasn’t, but how could he say otherwise.

“But it’s partly your fault,” Jeremy muttered.

Tyler stiffened. It was all very well blaming himself but he didn’t need Jeremy doing it too. “I warned you what he was like, I told you not to go back.”

“Prescott told Gerald he could do what he liked in the room downstairs because you hadn’t turned up.”

The fucking bastard.
“You should have walked out.”

Jeremy glared at him. “I needed the money and I didn’t know he’d follow me home and rape me.” He flinched. “Christ, my butt.” He dropped back on the bed and curled up.

“You ought to go to the police.”

Jeremy rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, like that’s going to do any good.”

Tyler suspected he was right.

“I’m so confused and I bloody hurt.” Tears rolled down his cheeks.

Tyler squeezed his hand. “Well, at least it’s over now. Forget you ever met Prescott and Gerald.”

“I can’t,” he said with a low moan. “I need the money. A thousand quid. That’s huge.”

Worth getting raped for?
Tyler felt mean that he wished Jeremy had used some of it to go to a hotel.

“I don’t want anything else to do with Gerald.” He pinned Tyler with his lopsided teary gaze. “I need a rich boyfriend like yours.”

Tyler sucked in his cheeks. “Did you say anything about me to Prescott?”

“No, just that you weren’t coming. He asked if I knew where you were and I said I didn’t.”

Do I believe him?
He knew better than to trust anyone, particularly someone so desperate for money. Was Prescott waiting outside? He’d been an idiot to come back here. But he looked at Jeremy’s battered face and sighed.

“Can I stay here?”

Tyler nodded.

Jeremy sat up and wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand, his fingers shaking. “I can pay rent.”

Tyler winced. “I thought you meant just tonight?”

“I can’t go back. The bastard knows where I live. I…I don’t want to go back. I don’t want to remember what… I won’t be a nuisance. I can sleep on the floor. I’ll buy a blowup mattress. You won’t know I’m here.”

Tyler smothered a groan. “There’s barely enough room for one bed, let alone two. Have mine. I might not be here much.” Unless Haris kicked him out. “I need to go.”

“Don’t leave me on my own tonight. Please.”

Jeremy sounded so desperate that Tyler sighed, toed off his shoes and lay down on the other side of the bed. “I can’t stay long.”

Jeremy took off his boots and curled up facing Tyler, quickly falling into an exhausted sleep. Tyler pulled the covers over him and left his spare set of keys on the counter. He wasn’t happy about letting Jeremy stay but what choice did he have? Tyler knew what it was like to feel lonely and afraid.

He called a cab, arranged a pick up for a street away and spent several minutes staring out of the window before he left. Not that he was paranoid—much—but it didn’t seem wise to just waltz outside without checking to see if anyone was watching. He didn’t
know
that Prescott knew where he lived, but he suspected he did. He hoped the guy had enough sense not to tell Gerald. Tyler exited through the back door and used the wheelie bin to climb onto the wall. He dropped his bag on the other side and then jumped, holding his acoustic guitar.

By the time he reached Holland Park, it was nearly seven. He left everything in the hall and took off his shoes and jacket before he crept up the stairs. As he tiptoed past Haris’s door, it opened. Haris stood there in a black dressing gown, fury written all over his face.
Shit.

“Where the fuck have you been?”

“A friend needed my help.”

“What friend? What help?”

Tyler bristled at Haris’s sharp tone. “It has nothing to do with you. You’re not buying my life. I told you that.”

“I’m buying your exclusivity which means you don’t fuck off in the middle of the night without telling me.”

Tyler stuck his hands in his pockets. “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You mean you thought you’d get back without me having realized you’d gone.”

“That was the plan.”

“Then it’s not wrong to conclude I wouldn’t be happy if you’d told me what you were up to.”

No matter how Tyler played this, it wouldn’t look good. “No, but I told you a friend needed my help.”

“What friend?”

“Just a friend.”

“Did you fuck him? Did he fuck you?”

“No and no.” Tyler stared straight at him, and then started to chew his lip. He was simultaneously pissed off that Haris was jealous and also a little flattered, but he didn’t need this sort of aggravation. “I’ve told you the truth. I’ve brought my stuff with me. Want me to take it back?”

“Do what you like.” He slammed the door in Tyler’s face.

Chapter Eleven

Haris sat in his study, staring at his laptop. After Tyler had left his bed last night, he’d lain frozen in disappointment. He hadn’t pushed about the dream, but it wasn’t hard to conclude that’s what had upset him. Before he could pull himself together enough to go upstairs and attempt to put things right, he’d heard Tyler sneak down and then the quiet click of the door. His heart had pounded as he ran up to Tyler’s room. He expected to see everything he’d bought him gone, but it hadn’t been. Though that didn’t mean Tyler intended to return.

Plans to start the day in bed, reading the Sunday papers, drinking coffee, eating croissant and having sex—and not in that order—faded as he’d waited sleeplessly for morning. He’d been through an endless series of emotions and unfortunately Tyler had reappeared while he was stuck in fury mode. He’d spent a long time there, seething and raging, and it looked like he’d be in a bad temper for a while yet. All he’d done was ask a bloody question. What was he supposed to think when the guy stayed out all night?

Tyler had shut himself in the room with the piano, mumbling about working on some college assignment, and Haris had retreated to his office to sulk.

How could everything fall apart so fast? Yesterday, he’d enjoyed himself more than he had in years, and now he was more miserable than he’d been in…a long while. It came down to trust. It was almost an impossible thing for him to do. He didn’t trust. Period. It was part of the reason for the contract, an attempt to control things and make Tyler think twice, but looked like it hadn’t worked. He wanted to believe Tyler, but was that
want
strong enough to blind him to the obvious?

He picked up his phone and called Stan Deeds.

“Haris, how are you?”

“Fine, thanks.”
No, I’m fucking not.

“What can I do for you?”

“Something personal. Wilson suspects we’ve been followed on a few occasions by a white Fiat.”

“Ah. License plate? Description of driver? How long has it been going on?”

“No idea on the first two. A couple of weeks.”

Stan sighed. “Know how many white Fiats there are? You want me to watch you to see if anyone’s following?”

“Yes. I’ll call and tell you when we’re going out.”

“Is there a reason someone would follow you?”

Haris paused.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Stan said. “Want to elaborate?”