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  Lee wasn’t there.

  Someone else was. Someone tall and wide, with a face as flat as the bottom of an iron. Someone who shouldn’t have been on this empty beach, shouldn’t have even known Ryan and Lee were here.

  “What the fuck do you want?” Ryan asked, lowering his hand and bunching it into a fist, his heart stopping for a beat in shock.

  Anger from his old self rose up inside him. If this guy had come to cause trouble—and why else would he be here? Too much of a coincidence that he was—then Ryan was ready for it.

  WILDFIRE

  ~

  Chapter Three

  “Trevor sent me.” He stared hard at Ryan, his light blue eyes bordering on white.

  Damn freaky bastard.

  Wind from Ryan’s right slammed into them, and Harry Burgent—yeah, that was his name, Ryan remembered now—shunted sideways, righting himself quickly. His black hair, a floppy style that he sometimes put back in a low ponytail, blew around his head and face, cheeks visible through the individual strands. He’d always looked so odd, like he’d literally been flattened at birth. One of Trevor’s friends at school, Harry had gone down the same road as him and Greg. He’d been more of a bystander then, though, Ryan would give him that. Only a menacing threat when Trevor had been out of prison, but now, with Greg in the nick too after trying to off Lee…

  Trevor had clearly recruited Harry to do his work on the outside.

  What a fucking cock.

  Once again, as he did when Greg had shown up in Biddingford the night of the shooting, Ryan shook his head and wondered what the fuck these blokes thought they were up to. It was still hard for him to think of them as anything but the people who he went to school with. He’d known them since they were all five, for God’s sake. Seeing them like this, young blokes who acted like they were big-time gangsters, just made him want to laugh. But he couldn’t laugh, not after what Greg had done. These bastards meant business, and Ryan ought to start taking them seriously, no matter how ludicrous the idea of them being dangerous was. They were, and Ryan needed to accept it or fall foul of their warped actions. And they were warped all right. Going around with guns and threatening people just for the hell of it.

  For years, when Lee had still lived with his mum, even after they’d all left school, these fuckers taunted Lee when he went to the local shop on their housing estate. Lee’s mum used to send him on pointless errands, just to see if he’d do as he was told once he’d grown, Ryan reckoned. Trevor and his gang knew that. Top that with the fact Lee was gay, and Lee became a prime target. Their taunts had never bothered Ryan. Not when they were directed at him anyhow, but he’d always burned inside when Lee told him what they’d said to him. Called him faggot, queer, any damn derogatory name they could think of. Made Lee’s life hell. More hell to add to the life crap life he’d lived with his mum.

  Ryan sighed. “What does Trevor want now? Lee dead again? Is he pissed off ‘cos Greg didn’t do the job right?”

  Harry took a step forward, slipping his hands into his dark green parka pocket. Fuck. Did he have a gun now? Was he grasping the handle, finger curling around the trigger? Or did he have a knife? Ryan didn’t know, didn’t give much of a shit so long as Harry didn’t use them on him or Lee. He just wanted this bollocks to stop. For everything to just go the hell away so they could live in peace.

  Harry never answered. He continued to stare, hair writhing every which way.

  “Listen, Harry. Don’t you reckon you’re skating on thin ice here, mate? Trevor’s in the nick, Greg too, yet you’re here delivering a message to us. And fuck, d’you know what? You’re so intent on doing what Trevor says…didn’t you even question travelling all the way up here to find us?” Ryan sighed, Harry’s blank face shrouded in hair pissing him the fuck off. “And I’m guessing you went to Biddingford. Found out somehow where we’d gone.” Ryan thought of Josh. Shit. “How did you find out where we’d gone?”

  “Ways and means,” Harry said, clearly trying to sound mysterious.

  The holiday brochure and confirmation letter. They’re on the coffee table in the cabin. Motherfucker must have broken in and found it.

  Ryan wanted to laugh again. Whether it was fear or the ludicrousness of this situation, he didn’t know, but fuck him sideways, he’d had enough of this. “Look, mate. Just tell me what you want, yeah?” From his peripheral vision, he saw Lee coming out of the newsagents and waiting for a car to pass before casually crossing the road. Ryan made sure not to focus his sights behind Harry. If the guy didn’t know Lee was there…

  “Trevor wants you to refuse to give evidence at the trial. You and your fag boyfriend.” Harry rolled his shoulders and sniffed as though he smelled dog’s shit.

  “Oh right. And how are we meant to do that, eh? Lee was shot. He’s the damn victim. The police are pressing charges. Not Lee. Not me. We have no choice but to appear in court. It’s out of our hands, you dumb prick.”

  Rein your mouth in, man.

  Lee stood at the top of the slope, staring at them, ice cream cones held aloft, shock sending his face pale. Ryan hoped to God their special connection worked right now and that Lee would stay where he was. Keeping his main gaze on Harry, Ryan saw Lee drop the cones and reach inside his jacket. He brought out his mobile phone.

  Please don’t let Harry hear him talking.

  “Dumb prick?” Harry said, taking another step forward so only inches separated them. His creepy-as-hell eyes widened. “Who you calling a dumb prick?” He took his hands out of his pockets, gun in one of them, and lifted it, aiming at Ryan’s face.

  Ryan’s mind worked quickly, and he got ready to duck, but his body gave signs of not being able to comply with his mind’s wishes. His knees almost went from under him, and his guts rolled over. Arms and legs weakening through fear from staring at that damn black barrel, Ryan fought to remain upright.

  “Look,” he said. “It’s just a figure of speech, yeah?” He nodded at the gun, seeing Lee talking frantically into the phone. “No need for that, is there?” Pausing, he waited for some sign Harry was going to use the weapon. None came, so he ploughed on. “Think about it. Do you want to end up inside with Trevor and Greg?”

  A miniscule sign of indecision flicked across Harry’s face, but he continued to stare, those near-white eyes lacking emotion. His hair whipped across his face again, then lifted, pushed back by the harsh breeze, revealing a jagged scar on his long, wide forehead. Red and relatively new. Stitch marks a centimetre apart marching down its length. Jesus Christ, what the hell had Harry got himself into?

  “I won’t end up like them.” Harry glanced from side to side. “No one’s here. This place is in the arse end of nowhere. No one’s gonna see us. From the shops back there, it’ll just look like two men talking. I know. I checked from all angles before I came down onto the beach. And your queer bloke’ll be a while. There was a queue in the newsagents.”

  Fuck me. He’s been watching us. Following us by the sounds of it.

  “So, you want me to ask the police if we can back out, then, right?” Stall him. Keep him talking.

  Lee remained on the phone, glancing along the road as though watching for the police.

  “That’s the long and short of it, yeah. You reckon you can manage to do that without fucking up?” Harry flicked off the gun’s safety catch. “Or do you need a little more persuading?”

  This was nuts. Absolutely fucking nuts. Ryan wanted to shake his head at how surreal and weird this was, but refrained. Harry might think he was denying his request. How in the hell had their life come to this? How had a group of kids turned into a group of hard men? And their reasoning for hating Lee and Ryan was all due to them being gay. Why the hell did it matter to these guys what they were? What was their problem?

  It’s not like we want to fuck their arses.

  “I don’t need any persuasion,” Ryan said, the white blur of a cop car filling the road.

  Two police officers got out and stared at Ryan from beh
ind the guardrail, eyes wide upon seeing a gun trained on him. The poor bastards had probably never been in a situation like this in their whole career so far. Like Harry had said, this was the arse end of nowhere, and sod all went down in a place like this.

  Ryan smiled at Harry, meeting his gaze dead on. Abruptly, he lifted his knee, sinking it into Harry’s groin, then thumped the side of his aggressor’s wrist as the bastard bent at the waist in pain. He landed an uppercut on Harry’s cheek, and the guy went sprawling backward, the gun flying out of his hand to land on the beach. The officers raced down the slope, on Harry in seconds, flipping him onto his front and yanking his arms behind him.

  Ryan closed his eyes and exhaled through pursed lips. His body went limp, refusing to support him, and he slumped to his knees, the dampness from the sand seeping through his jeans.

  The tinkle of cuffs sounded sweet, but Lee’s voice sounded sweeter as it whispered into his ear.

  “You all right, mate? Fuck. You all right?”

  Strong arms went around him, supporting his upper body as it teetered on falling sideways. He nodded, keeping his eyes closed for a few seconds longer. When his equilibrium had almost returned, he opened them to see the policemen hauling Harry to his feet, their voices a rumble. He couldn’t differentiate what they said from the roaring sea behind him—both sounds merged—but he hoped they were reading Harry his rights. By fuck he hoped for that.

  The cops marched Harry up the slope, and one called back, “Be with you in a second!” Ryan nodded, nausea settling in his gullet, and looked up at Lee, who had hunkered down beside him.

  “Come on, up you get,” Lee said, helping Ryan to stand. He stared at him, face pinched and drawn. “Shits the life out of you when you see that gun, doesn’t it?”

  Ryan nodded again, the lump in his throat stopping him from answering. He hiked in a deep breath, leaning into Lee’s chest and resting his forehead on the other’s shoulder. Yes, it had shit the life out of him. And now he understood why Lee had changed since he’d been shot. Ryan’s one glimpse at a terror just as big as he’d felt when he’d seen a similar gun pointed at Lee, had shown him that all the insignificant things he’d ever whinged at just weren’t important. Not versus losing his life.

  He should have known that already. Should have realised how precious life was well before now, but it took that gun barrel being aimed just then for him to fully understand. People hated him and Lee for what they were, and that was damn fine. But he was fucked if this lot were going to get away with keep on hating, keep on persecuting. This gang of freaks were going down.

  He’d make sure of it.

  * * * *

  Back in their hotel room, situated in an old Tudor-like house sitting on a cliff about a mile outside the village, Ryan nestled against Lee’s side. They were fully clothed on top of the bed, having flopped there after coming back from the police station. The cops spoke to them as though fascinated that such a startling event had happened in their sleepy village, and Ryan supposed it would appear a drastic incident to those unused to such things. But Ryan and Lee originally hailed from a sterner place, growing up where someone being stabbed and mugged for a tenner made the news nightly. Although used to hearing about crimes like that, knowing they happened right on his doorstep ever since he could remember, Ryan wasn’t best pleased at being involved in newsworthy situations. No. One thing to hear it on the radio or see it on the damn news, but being the star of the show was different altogether.

  He stared at the ceiling of their semi-dark room, night arriving now. The time had passed so slowly at the police station, and if he’d guessed right, he was sure the police took their time so they could relish this bit of excitement. Lee’s arm tightened around him, and Ryan hugged his lover closer, one arm draped across the other’s stomach. They hadn’t really spoken. Hadn’t discussed what had happened on the beach beyond shaking their heads and muttering short sentences. Maybe it was time they did. Talked about Lee’s shooting too. It would clear a shit load of worry off their shoulders and leave them with a clear head for the trial. A trial that would grow longer now, possibly be put back because of Harry bloody Burgent.

  Ryan opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. If Lee hadn’t spoken about it all up to now, did it mean he didn’t want to? Couldn’t? Could Ryan press him, demand they talk about it?

  No, I can’t. I wouldn’t want to pressure him into something he doesn’t want. We don’t work like that. Never have, really.

  “I fucking hate Harry right now,” Lee said, the rumble of his voice transferring through Ryan’s cheek. “Those blokes. They’re sick in the head. Always have been when you think back.”

  “I know.” Keep talking, Lee.

  “I mean, who the fuck do they think they are?” He huffed out a breath. “According to them, we’re just a couple of queers, worth nothing, yet we’re obviously worth something for them to keep on at us like this.”

  “Yup.” More. Tell me more.

  “And I was thinking, you know. This shit we’ve been through, what we’re going through, it’s like something out of a damn film. I mean, what the fuck? Who the bloody hell goes around like they do, thinking they can get away with it? Shit!” He let out a wry laugh. “And what do we do when it’s all over? When they’re all locked up for a pissy amount of time? Move away? Start again, living in peace for a bit until they get out or Trevor sends some other bastard to find us?” He laughed again, louder this time, bordering on hysterics.

  Ryan clutched him tighter, letting him laugh it the hell out. Whatever it took for his man to feel better. After a few seconds, Lee’s laughter tapered off, his breaths coming short and sharp. Ryan listened to the sounds filtering from downstairs and outside. Pots and pans clattering, dinner dishes being put away. The creak of another resident walking the landing outside their room. Gulls squawking, snatching the last remnants of food from the beach, or maybe bread crusts from the kitchen here, before full darkness came and they nested wherever the hell they nested overnight. He wondered if they’d pecked at the ice cream cones yet.

  His stomach rumbled, and he propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Lee in the gloom, trying to make out his features. “You hungry?”

  Lee cleared his throat. “Yeah. You?”

  “A bit.”

  “Want to go out and get something?” Lee ran the back of one finger down Ryan’s cheek.

  “Could do.”

  “What d’you fancy?”

  “You, but fish and chips will do.”

  “Trying that romantic shit again, are we?”

  “Trying and failing.”

  “Damn fucking right you failed.” Lee lifted his head, offering his lips.

  Ryan bent his and brushed the other’s mouth with a soft kiss. “But you wouldn’t have it any other way, right?”

  “Nope. I like laughing at your attempts. You might get it right one day. Shock the shit out of me if you did, though.”

  “Cheeky bastard.” Ryan got up and stretched beside the bed. “Come on then. If I can’t have you, I want chips.” He reached toward the chair for his jacket.

  Lee rolled across the bed and gripped Ryan’s wrist, drawing him back onto the mattress. “Fuck the chips,” he said, pulling Ryan on top of him.

  “Can’t fuck chips.” Ryan tried to hide his smile.

  “Then fuck me.”

  WILDFIRE

  ~

  Chapter Four

  Ryan crushed his lips against Lee’s, clutching his man’s head, fingers sinking into his hair. He held him rigid, a sudden need to fuck hard and fast taking over him. It was probably the fright he’d had, but Ryan just wanted a quick connection, a frantic coupling that erased everything but what they were doing for the time it took to do it. Lee clutched Ryan’s ass as they kissed, pushing their erections together, and Ryan groaned deep in his throat. Lee wanted him just as much, then.

  Ryan ground circles into Lee’s pelvis, the friction of his jeans on his cock painful yet pleasurable a
t the same time. Wrenching his mouth away, he shifted to Lee’s side and began taking off his lover’s T-shirt, pushing it up his chest with jerky movements. He wanted Lee naked, them both naked, skin on skin. Lee took over undressing himself, and Ryan stripped out of his own clothing, tossing them wherever they fell. With them both naked, Ryan straddled Lee’s legs, reaching beside him for the belt on Lee’s jeans. He pulled it from the loopholes, staring down at Lee, asking the silent question of whether he wanted his usual favourite binding. Lee nodded, lifting his arms and positioning his wrists together. Ryan slid the belt around them, tying it tight and easing those wrists to the bed above Lee’s head.

  Staring down at him, Ryan took in the sight, lust swelling his cock further and making his balls ache. He had the urge to sink himself into Lee’s ass, but they had yet to venture into the unknown. Neither of them knew whether they would like it, who would be a top or bottom, or whether they’d both enjoy it and pump the other’s ass every time they fucked. They had no lube, nothing to help Ryan’s cock slide into virgin territory, and the mood he was in, it probably wasn’t a good idea to try it right now. He’d push inside too quickly.

  Still, he needed tightness, and he whispered, “Suck me.” Not a question but an order, one he needed to give to make Lee understand how Ryan wanted it tonight.

  Lee nodded, and Ryan scooted up Lee’s body, each knee settled beside Lee’s chest. His cock throbbed with the anticipation of what was to come, and he bit his bottom lip to hold off the burning sensation growing at his base. Reaching across, he grabbed his pillows and placed them on top of Lee’s, elevating the other’s head into a prime position for his mouth to take his cock. With Lee’s arms stretched up like that, his wrists bound and fingers entwined, hands making a giant fist, Ryan almost lost it.

  Ryan gripped the headboard and manoeuvred so the tip of his cock butted Lee’s lips. “Suck me. Hard. Fuck, I need it hard.”