With or Without Him (37 page)

“You fucking lunatic,” Lu snapped.

Stan helped him to his feet, but Lu brushed him aside and pushed past him out of the room.

“Now get Tyler out of here,” Haris said.

“No,” Tyler blurted. “He wants to kill you.”

The moment Tyler was freed he tried to get to Haris but Stan pulled him back. “Put your clothes on, son.”

Haris was aware Tyler was doing what he was told, but he didn’t take his gaze from Rashid.

“What do you want?” Haris asked in Arabic.

“What do I want? Justice. Fairness. Restitution.”

“So you take a whip to my friend? What has he done to you?”

“He can stand it. I stood it.” Rashid peeled his T-shirt to his shoulders and turned his back for a moment before he faced Haris again. “I live with it.”

Rashid’s back was a mass of scar tissue, ugly keloid scarring that looked like an alien carapace.

“Not pretty,” Rashid snapped.

“You think I don’t live with what happened?” Haris asked.

Rashid spat at his feet.

“I was seventeen,” Haris said. “You were twenty-two. Those five years made all the difference. I couldn’t help the sentences that were handed out.”

“Four thousand lashes and seventeen years in prison,” Rashid said. “Few years off for good conduct. My body disfigured. My youth gone. While you were free to start a life in a new country. You have no idea what I endured. I loved you.”

What the hell?
“You’d only just met me. We had nothing, Rashid, nothing but a moment of lust. We were going to fuck, that was all. We’d have walked away from each other after a couple of hours at the most.”

“No. I loved you.”

“What are you saying?” Tyler shouted. “What’s going on? Speak bloody English.”

Haris swallowed hard. Pointless arguing with madness. At least Rashid was using the past tense. Loved and not love. He moderated his tone to one of quiet persuasion. “You want justice, fairness, restitution. How can I make things right? I can’t get back the life you lost. I can give you money.”

“I already have money.” He gave a sly smile that chilled Haris. Had Malik paid him?

Haris held out his arms. “Whip me, then. Let my friend go.”

“No,” Tyler shouted, struggling to get free from Stan.

Haris peeled off his coat and let it drop to the floor. Then he stripped off his shirt, walked to the wall and grasped the restraints.

“Don’t touch him,” Tyler yelled.

Rashid sucked in a breath and swore.

Thank God for that.

“He said…” Rashid muttered.

Haris turned to face him. “Malik told you I wasn’t punished? I was given a thousand lashes. I know that was a quarter of what you received. And yes, I had to leave the country or face jail. I wasn’t there when my mother died. I have to accept the possibility that she failed to stop at traffic lights because she was so distracted by what had happened to me. I had to live without my father, without my brothers. My father paid for my education but I gave him back every penny. I remade myself, Rashid. You can do the same.”

Probably not, but it wasn’t the time to point that out. Haris picked up his shirt and pulled it on. Rashid let the whip fall from his hand. A somber-faced Stan handed Haris his coat and nodded toward Tyler. At the edge of his vision he could see him shaking.

“Malik has used you,” Haris said quietly and swapped back to English. “Did he pay you to kill me?”

Rashid pressed his lips together.

“It was you who pushed us in front of a bus.”

“No,” he snapped. “That was not me.”

Why deny it? Unless—oh shit.

“Why did you stab Tyler’s friend?”

“Malik’s plan. He want it to look as though you and Tyler fought and killed each other. We follow you while he work out details. Not such a good plan when we get wrong boy. Boy alive?”

“Yes,” Haris said.

“You want me to kill Malik?”

Haris gave a short laugh. “No. If anyone kills him, it will be me.”

Haris turned when the door burst open and three uniformed policemen rushed in. He thought Rashid might try to run but he didn’t move.

“We had a report of an assault in progress,” said one of the cops.

“I called you,” Stan said and held up his PI identification.

“What’s happened?” asked the cop.

Tyler pointed to Rashid. “That man, Rashid, drugged my coffee and brought me here against my will. He whipped me. He wanted me to get Haris to come here, but I called someone else.”

Haris swallowed hard. Thank God Stan had managed to trace the phone.

“I was screaming and a guy I know came in and wanted to show Rashid how to use a whip but Rashid tried to kill him. A few days ago, Rashid stabbed my friend Jeremy because he thought he was me.”

“Let’s see your injuries,” one of the policemen said to Tyler.

Tyler took off the coat, unfastened his shirt and let it slip from his shoulders.

“You need to go to the hospital,” said the cop.

Tyler refastened his shirt.

As Rashid’s wrists were put in handcuffs behind his back and he was told his rights, he gave Haris a sad smile. “Why does your brother hate you so much?”

“When I see him, I’ll ask him.”

“We’ll need you to come and give statements,” one of the policemen said.

“After the hospital.” Haris stepped closer to Tyler.

“I’m okay,” Tyler muttered.

“No, you’re not. Not yet.” Haris was desperate to hold him and he didn’t even dare touch him. He lifted his coat from the floor and carefully put it over Tyler’s shoulders.

“I would have lived in peace,” Rashid whispered. “Your brother made me believe… Ah, too late but I am sorry.”

“I need air,” Tyler gasped.

Haris followed him up the stairs and out into the street. He couldn’t believe how much it made his heart ache knowing Tyler was hurt—and because of him. Why hadn’t Tyler phoned him? More police cars arrived and a crowd started to gather. Rashid and two officers appeared at their sides and Rashid murmured, “Peace be with you, brother.”

Rashid was so fast, Haris didn’t realize what was happening until it was too late. He wrenched free of the man holding him and ran straight out into the busy road. There was a screech of brakes, a sickening thud and Rashid was tossed into the air. He landed on top of another car and slithered to the ground.

“Oh shit,” one of the cops muttered and pandemonium followed as people screamed and traffic screeched to a halt.

The officer who’d been holding Rashid dashed into the road, other policemen following.

Tyler turned away with a look of horror on his face. “How did he think he was going to escape?”

“I don’t think he did,” Haris said. “He’s had a wasted, unhappy life and preferred death over re-imprisonment.”

There was frantic activity in the middle of the road. Paramedics raced to help but when a policeman walked back toward them, his face pale, it was clear what he was going to say.

“He’s dead. We’re going to need statements from all witnesses.”

“Can it wait?” Haris asked. “Tyler should go to the hospital.”

The policeman nodded. “I need your names and addresses.”

“I’ll stay with the police,” Stan said.

“My things,” Tyler muttered.

“What things?” Haris asked.

“My guitar and coat and bag must be in his car. A black Peugeot. He parked close by but I don’t know where. I was too out of it.”

The policeman nodded. “We’ll find it.”

Stan sidled closer to Haris. “Don’t mention the cell phone tracing. Say you were just searching everywhere you could think of. Don’t mention your link with Rashid. I’ll call you tonight and tell you what I said.”

“Oh fuck,” Tyler mumbled and continued to stare at the ground.

Haris reached for his hand and Tyler pulled away.
Still pissed with me then.
He didn’t blame him.

“What happen?” someone said.

When he saw Lu, Haris bristled. He didn’t want that rigger anywhere near Tyler.

Tyler took a shaky breath. “The man that tried to strangle you got hit by a car. He’s…dead.”

“Save me trouble.” Lu put his mouth to Tyler’s ear and Haris moved closer to hear what he said.

“You come Saturday,” Lu whispered. “That Prescott’s price for my help.”

“My back,” Tyler muttered.

“Some guys like damaged goods.”

Haris reached for Lu and Tyler caught his hand. It was the first time they’d touched all night.

“No,” Tyler whispered.

“No to me or to him?” Lu said with a smile and went back into the club.

Tyler began to shake and when Haris spotted one of the paramedics returning to an ambulance, he beckoned him over.

“What’s wrong with him?” the man asked.

“I’m okay,” Tyler muttered.

Haris gritted his teeth. “No he’s not. He’s in shock. He’s been…assaulted.”

“What’s your name?”

“He’s Tyler. I’m Haris.”

“Let him speak, sir. How old are you, Tyler?”

“Twenty-one.”

Haris swallowed hard. He ought to keep reminding himself how young Tyler was. He ought to have considered that more carefully before he pulled him into his life with that bloody contract.

“Come and sit in the ambulance and let’s have a look at you.” The gray-haired paramedic held out his arm to keep the way clear.

Tyler walked with Haris at his side.

“Are you a friend of his?” the paramedic asked Haris.

“Yes.”

The guy turned to Tyler. “You want him with you?”

Haris thought his heart was about to stop.

“Up to him,” Tyler muttered.

The three of them climbed into the back of the ambulance and the paramedic pulled the doors closed.

“Can you show me?”

Tyler peeled off the coat and Haris drew in a breath when he saw the dark streaks of blood on his shirt. Tyler unfastened the buttons and winced as he drew the material off his shoulders. He stared straight ahead, refusing eye contact with Haris.

“Ah. You need cleaning up, and maybe a tetanus shot. Sit down and I’ll be back in a minute. I have to take a blanket to my colleague.”

Tyler eased the shirt back on and sat with his shoulders slumped. Haris sat opposite. He wondered if he dare reach for his hand but if Tyler pulled away, he thought he might fall to pieces.

“How did you know I was in the club?” Tyler asked. “Got a tracking device on me?”

Haris shook his head. “No. Stan traced your mobile phone.”

“Oh yeah. Stan. I’ve remembered where I saw him. He followed me. You didn’t trust me. I don’t think you’ve ever trusted me.”

The pain in Tyler’s eyes hit Haris like a punch in the gut.

“It wasn’t that. I was worried about you, about your safety.”

Tyler gave a short laugh. “So you had me investigated and tailed?”

“I’m sorry about the photographs, the information about you,” Haris said.

“Sorry I found out?”

Haris swallowed hard. “By the time Stan gave the envelope to me, you’d already told me about your family.”

“But not the…rest of it?”

Haris hesitated. “He gave me that later.”

Tyler clenched his fists. “When I spoke to that lawyer, you already knew everything. You didn’t react right. I thought you’d be furious and you were too calm. But then you’re already paying me to be in your bed. Why should you be surprised that I’m a tart?”

“Don’t—”

“Had you downloaded the movies? Jerked off to them? Thought you’d like a taste of the real thing?” Tyler shook with fury. “How can I believe anything you’ve ever said? Did you really see me for the first time at the concert? Or was it on your laptop? I’ve never watched the films. I somehow don’t think they’d turn me on. You think it was easy for me? You think I didn’t worry that one day what I’d done would destroy me? That sort of shame sinks deep into your bones and it never goes away.”

“Tyler—”

“Shut up. I’m talking. I can’t escape my past. It’s there for anyone to dig up. I didn’t even have the damn sense to lie about my name back then.” He gave a short laugh. “Well, it was good while it lasted. I’ll pay you back what you put into my bank account.”

“No,” Haris snapped. “I don’t want it.” He softened his tone. “I only want you.”

Tyler took a deep breath.

Haris held out his hand and Tyler ignored it.

“Please come home,” Haris whispered.

“What did you think when you knew what I’d done?”

“I was sad.”

Tyler stared at his outstretched hand. “Not disgusted?”

“No. I’ve no right to judge you. No one has. You did what you felt you had to.”

“I liked it sometimes,” Tyler snapped.