Page 4 of Tell No One
“You’ll be cover for one of my men. There’s going to be an auction. He’ll buy you. You’ll say or pretend he’s with you whether he is or not.”
Uh?Tag refrained from rolling his eyes. “Is he the invisible man?”
Bruisergrabbed the front of Tag’s shirt and yanked him to his feet. A fist in Tag’s stomach doubled him over. “Don’t be a smart-arse.” He shoved Tag down again and the chair gave an ominous creak.
“There’s no need…to hit me,” Tag gasped.
“Just concentrating your mind.” Posh Git smiled. “Three thousand pounds to be whatever they want you to be, to do whatever my guy wants you to do. Do we have a deal?”
Three thousand pounds? What the fuck?
Why did Tag think he didn’t have a choice? “I assume you don’t want the other man to know about this.”
“So you’re not just a pretty face. But if you want to keep that pretty face…”
Fuck you!“Do I get to keep his thousand too?”
The man nodded.
Wow!“Okay then.” Tag sighed. “We have a deal.”
Tag blinked as Bruiser took his picture.
“Don’t let me down,” said Posh Git. “Wherever you go, we can find you, Tag Blake. Formerly known as Rufus Connelly.”
Oh Jeez.Tag was relieved he was sitting down, relieved he didn’t wet himself.
“Close your eyes.”
It was the last thing Tag wanted to do, but he closed them. He heard them leave and when he peeked under his lids, he saw he was alone. For the first time in his life, Tag wished he had a tiny cock. Though would he have admitted it?Jesus Christ!What had he gotten himself into?
Three days of looking for a job and another place to live were hampered by surges of acute anxiety over what Saturday would bring and a couple of proper panic attacks over how his visitors had known the name he was born with. Those guys had got into the house and into his room without even breaking a lock. Tag didn’t feel safe there anymore.
Was he delusional to think he’d ever managed to hide? The only people who knew his name and where he lived were supposed to look out for him, though Tag had always wondered how much they cared. Still, he could have called one of them and… Said what? Done what? He had to disappear again and this time he wouldn’t be telling anyone his new address, even though he was supposed to.
By Saturday morning, Tag was jumping at everything and had to give himself a stern talking to. He was in this situation now, for better or worse. He wasn’t going to run until he’d got his four thousand pounds. That amount of money wouldlethim run.
How long had he been wishing for a miracle, hoping for something to happen that would allow him to change his life? Fair enough, he’d been thinking of a lottery win, or saving some rich bloke from being hit by a car, or a billionaire falling in love with him, but finally, somethinghadhappened. He had the chance of getting his hands on four thousand pounds. Maybe more.Thatwas what he had to concentrate on and forget that he was now involved with people who knew his other name. Because if they knew that, they knew everything he was trying to hide.
***
Tag stared at himself in the mirror. He’d taken a lot of trouble getting ready for this party: trimmed and buffed his nails, even his toenails, cleaned his teeth, flossed, shaved, and prepped himself as well as he could in every conceivable way and possibly in a few that couldn’t be conceived of by most people. He’d even nipped to the upstairs bathroom and helped himself to some of Sarah’s expensive hair conditioner that no one was supposed to touch on pain of death, and now his hair kept flopping over his eyes. Kind of annoying, but it also looked cute and he did smell nice. His body probably didn’t know what had hit it. He grinned. Then tried again. He had to pretend better than that.
Since he didn’t expect to be keeping his clothes on, he hadn’t wasted money buying anything new. He was wearing his faded black jeans that hung a little too low on his hips but showcased his arse, a tight, pale-grey T-shirt and his beloved black military jacket, the first item of clothing he’d saved up to buy. Since the twosome had paid him a visit, he hadn’t been able to find his imitation Converse, so he had to wear his knock-off Vans.How can I lose shoes? Had his visitors taken them? Why?It made no sense.
He practised another smile in the mirror.I’d do me. I’m exactly the type I like.Dark eyes with lashes thick enough to make it appear as though he wore eyeliner—though he never had—dark hair, tanned skin—all over—thank you flat roof at the last place he’d lived, and long legs. His bottom teeth were a bit wonky, he was too skinny and he had a nervous habit of swallowing a lot when he was super-anxious—but he looked okay. An average twenty-four-year-old.
Though he wasn’t. Nowhere near it.
He hadn’t looked okay enough to convince his one and only boyfriend to stick around. Maybe he ought to give up on the idea of a happy ever after. He didn’t deserve one.Ah shit.His confidence plummeted, his head and shoulders dropped and his heart fell.I’m a worthless piece of shit. That’s all I’ll ever be.
What had happened to him wasn’t fair but it had happened and he had to deal with it. Except some days he dealt with it better than others. Tag only allowed reality to intrude when he was alone in his room. His safe place, except now it wasn’t. But once he walked out the door, he pretended he ruled the world. No one could see inside his head. He could be whatever he liked. All he had to do was play whatever game this was for twenty-four hours. Maybe less. If he didn’t like the way things were going, and some creepy dude bought him at the auction, he’d bail. He’d come back here, pack his stuff and get a bus to somewhere he’d never been to before.
What if you can’t bail?
Tag rubbed his neck. He was resourceful and a fast runner. He was a survivor. After what he’d endured, he could cope with anything.
At one minute to six, he walked out of the house with a smile plastered on his face.I can do this.He had his almost empty wallet in his jacket pocket along with his phone and keys. He’d left his debit card and most of his cash in his room, just in case. The car was there and Tag headed towards it. He was a little apprehensive, but that was a good thing. It kept him alert. Being street-smart had saved him on several occasions.
