Breaking (Fall or Break #2) by Barbara Elsborg Page A

concern, and resisted the impulse to say I told you so.
    “Obviously we’ll investigate further. I’ll keep in touch but, er…stay alert. Okay?”
    “Right. Thanks.”
    Conrad put down his phone. “Apparently the police have a witness who saw the car aim for me.” He frowned. “Why would they come forward now after all this time? That makes no sense.”
    “It’s good and bad, I guess, that someone is backing up your story.”
    Archer was right because if someone wanted him dead and he wasn’t, what was to stop them trying again? Maybe it had been too difficult to get into the hospital. Too many cameras. What if Archer had set up everything, even the near-drowning? Or if not that, he might have been watching the house and what had happened in the sea had been an accident. He could have pretended to collapse on the doorstep just to gain entrance, get sympathy. Stay alert. Yeah, he should.
    “I would have already killed you,” Archer said, reading his mind.
    Conrad gaped at him. “Right. Moving on then.”
    “Do you play chess?”
    I’m fucking brilliant at it. “A bit. Is there a set somewhere?”
    “Upstairs. You’d like it up there. Lots of things to do. Comfortable couches. Great view. Kickass TV. Games. DVDs. Torture equipment. Huge bed.”
    Conrad’s heart did a painful bounce on his stomach.
    Archer stared at him. “I could carry you up if you want.”
    “No.”
    Archer pushed to his feet. “Well, I’m going to climb those stairs and watch TV. You can clear up.”
    Conrad watched him go then turned to the countertop. It looked like Archer had used every last item of kitchen equipment. He pushed to his feet and set about putting things back to rights. Unfortunately, that didn’t work on himself. He was as confused as he’d ever been.

Chapter Seven
    When Archer let himself out of the back door the following morning to go for a run, Deefor followed him. He’d looked in on Conrad on his way past and found him still sleeping, sprawled under the duvet, only his head exposed. One look at his long dark lashes and part-open mouth, and flickers of heat flared in Archer’s gut. This was a new experience for him, having to wait to fuck a guy, wanting to wait. He hoped running would work the frustration out of his system.
    He jogged down the path to the beach, Deefor on his heels, and then out over the soft sand to the hard-packed surface beyond. Most of his running as a boy had come through fear; now he enjoyed it more than many other activities, though not all. He thought of Conrad’s arse and smiled. A couple of words of encouragement from him and the run could have waited.
    There were few things in Archer’s life that gave him pure pleasure apart from the hot rush of sex. Even as a kid, everything was tinged with the need to stay alert for danger. He’d rarely been able to allow himself to relax long enough to enjoy the feel of the sun on his face, the sight of sunrise or sunset. Learning how to relax was difficult. Even when he’d been out on the water, it crossed his mind that he was an easy target if anyone had been watching. As it happened, he had been an easy target—for the sea.
    He might be out of the business, but he had to behave as though he was still in it. Lingering in any place too long was a mistake. Independence and self-sufficiency had to take priority. Trusting anyone was a mistake. Being distracted by anyone or anything was a mistake. He didn’t need anyone and that should include Conrad. So he couldn’t quite understand why he was still hanging around because he couldn’t afford to stop running no matter how much he might want to. It was like constantly treading water. If he stopped, he’d go under.
    Phoenix might have said he had nothing to do with the attempt on his life but Archer didn’t believe him and had racked his brain trying to fathom things out without having to resort to wrenching the lid off the whole can of worms. The name William Connor meant nothing. Asking