EXCERPT:

When the hand came down on my shoulder I couldn’t help but jump. I tensed, ready to strike out.

“Freeman, what the fuck are you doing here?”

I drew a deep breath. Of course it would be him.

“I’ve been in the room behind you for the last half hour,” Miki continued, his hand still tight on my shoulder. “Watching you. You should have checked other access to the unit — there’s another, back staircase that leads straight up here to the offices. And I’m the one with the keys. Did you think you wouldn’t be seen? Very careless, Freeman. Not as thorough as you used to be. Maybe George was right; you are washed up.”

I stood up slowly and carefully, aware of him behind me, of where his hands were. “Maybe I am. So I’ll be off now and be sure to tell everyone what a role model you are.”

Miki laughed aloud. One of the men down in the warehouse looked up at the platform, startled. Miki leaned over and gestured something to him and both of the men downstairs moved back toward the shuttered exit, out of earshot. Miki turned back to me. “You haven’t answered my question. What are you doing here?”

I shrugged. “Looking for a job.”

He raised an eyebrow, scorning the lie but with a smile still on his lips. “Do you have any relevant experience?”

I looked back at him, steadily. “Plenty. In many disciplines.”

“Yes,” he replied. “I think I can vouch for that.” We stared at each other for a moment. The tension in the air around us bit as surely as if it had teeth. I had been to interviews at one a.m. before now — but not many. And this, of course, wasn’t one of those occasions.

“So how did you find this place? We’ve only rented it for a year or so.” His eyes narrowed; they appraised my dark, nondescript clothing. “Maybe you followed me. You’re stalking me.” He smiled, his teeth showing fine and white against the dim light. He didn’t look tired, despite the hour. In contrast to mine, his clothes were elegantly casual; Miki would never look anything less than smart. He smelled clean and sharp, like citrus.

“Yes,” I said, coolly. “Stalking you. In your dreams.”

He grinned, unfazed. “Is that it, Freeman? You wanted to see me again. Get me alone. Hell, we both have expensive flats of our own and plenty of space and comfort to do each other justice. You don’t have to follow me to some seedy industrial unit to fuck me. Unless that’s what turns you on, I guess.”

I sighed slowly and deliberately. “Miki, you’re not amusing. Nor that irresistible.”

“But you told me I was, Freeman,” he murmured, his smile tightening. “Many times. Remember?”

“No,” I said, carefully. My heart was pumping extra adrenalin around my body. His shirt was open at the neck, and at the base of his throat a drop of sweat glinted dully. I knew how it would taste. Salty… tart. I remembered telling him how magnificent he was, how much I wanted him. It had been in the early days and I was flattering him at the time, damning myself, too. I remembered it all too well. It was an old, deeply buried memory, and I wanted it to remain so.

He was watching the expression on my face. “Liar.”

I shrugged again. I’d said what I wanted to on the matter. He drew me away from the guard rail, toward the dark, shuttered office. His hand was on me at all times, holding me captive. I could have remedied that easily, but it seemed wise to go with the flow. Miki was volatile, but he wasn’t to be underestimated.

“So who’s the one being distracted here, Freeman?” His tone was sharper now. “Maybe you’re not here for me. Maybe you’re here, being your old interfering self, getting involved when I’m sure you said you weren’t going to do that again.”

“I’m not,” I said.

“And when you were warned not to.”

I glanced at the office window but the blinds were down. I didn’t know what Miki had been doing in there before he decided it was more entertaining to watch me crouching in discomfort on a metal platform. There was some kind of security key pad on the door, a very sophisticated design. Seemed like a lot of deterrence for a seedy industrial unit.

“This is nothing to do with you, Freeman.” Miki’s hand slipped down from my shoulder and gripped my upper arm. His other hand was flat against my chest, the fingers splayed. “You made your choices when you left town. When you ran away. George told me it was the condition of letting you go, that you kept out of things for good. You can’t just dip in and out of this world when you choose — when you need us.”

“Need you?” My eyes may have narrowed.

Miki growled. “Things are slow for you, I know; people don’t want to do business with you. And you’ve been warned about messing with that kid, but maybe that’s just for something to do. You need to get it together, Freeman. Move on.”

“Yes. Move on,” I repeated.

He peered at me, warily. “It’s bad news for you, being found here, and you know it. When George gets to hear about it -”

“If,” I said.

Miki’s eyes clouded slightly. “You’re in no position to ask for that. You think I’m just going to let you back off now?”

“Works for me,” I said.

He laughed softly, but he didn’t let me move away. Instead, he pushed me back even more firmly, forcing me against the outer partition wall of the office. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he leant in against me. His breath had a background flavour of alcohol. “Miki!” I snapped. “For God’s sake, back off yourself.”

He laughed. “If you want to leave quietly, you need to remember I’m the only one can let you. And I can’t do that without searching you first, Freeman. I really ought to be able to trust you, but I know I can’t. Consider this my warning.”

When he kissed me, his lips were hot and slightly swollen, his tongue forcing my teeth to part and let it into my mouth. His hands were inside my jacket now, sliding down my sides, plucking at the skin inside the fabric of my shirt. He sucked greedily at my lower lip — his kissing had so often been only one step away from aggression. I gave a small whimper of protest, but he ignored it. I think it encouraged him, to tell you the truth.

I tilted my head slightly to the side to let him fit against me better. It had been a long time since I’d been this intimate with Miki, but they say it’s like riding a bike, right? You never forget how. I slipped my own hands around his waist, gripping him hard. I felt the muscles under his shirt tighten and he groaned a little. I stroked at his hips, my fingers snagging on the pockets of his trousers. I could hear both of us panting a little. His saliva was hot in my mouth and his jaw ground against my own. We’d always been well matched in size. He was impatient — another thing I remembered about him. His knee forced its way between my legs, nudging them further apart, and his hand moved down swiftly to grab my crotch. His fingers curled around the half-turgid shape of my cock. It was a fierce, greedy touch. The physical memories surfaced in my mind, rich and vivid, and my body shuddered against him. The sound Miki made in the back of his throat was a combination of laughter and demand.

That’s when I punched him; punched him squarely on that handsome, sculpted jaw. Hit him hard enough so that his head rocked up and he stumbled backward, releasing me suddenly, his arms flailing. It was some time since I’d hit anyone, and I felt the shock of pain in my fist. There was no sound from either of us, just his sudden gasp in the cold, still air.