Now Comes the Dark (Basic Instincts #1)

Chapter Three

The Stranger

Roman kept walking. It was na?ve, and he didn’t have a hope in hell of making it to the safety of another bar or the taxi rank. Bloody stupid of him. He should have arranged for an Uber to take him home while he was still in the bar. Hadn’t Phil warned him just minutes ago to take a car from door to door? He kept his head down and increased his pace, hoping the men would get bored and move on.

The car drew ahead of him before pulling onto the kerb. Two men jumped straight out, followed moments later by the driver.

Roman’s pulse raced. He looked for an escape route, a place to run for, but the men formed a semicircle around him, forcing his back to the wall. They were an intimating bunch. The one who had called him a faggot was the largest of the three, a real no-neck meathead. He was white with a grubby-looking suntan and tattoos that covered his skin from the neck to his fingertips. The second was a gingery blond and bearded. Roman might have fancied him if he wasn’t some scumbag about to kick his head in. The third guy was the ugliest of the three—short and puggy with a piggy nose and mean little eyes.

“What’s your hurry?” the big man asked, shoving Roman in the shoulder. “Have you got something better to do than talk to us?”

Roman was seething inside. They were the kind of bullies found in any school yard—a few years older but just as stupid, the mean-spirited good-for-nothing jock types who love nothing better than picking on the weaker kids. His teenage years had been blighted by boys exactly like these. The faces might be different, but their toxic masculinity was painfully familiar.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Roman said, hating the feeble sound of his own voice. “I’m on my way home. Just let me past.”

The short guy giggled while the other two puffed themselves up with bravado.

Arseholes. Three against one . Is that what it took to make these bastards feel like men?

Despite the dangers in Blyham, five murders in the last year and dozens of homophobic assaults, Roman hadn’t considered himself to be at risk. It was something that happened to other people. He flitted about the village having fun, paying little attention to the warnings issued by Phil and the other old-timers. He had never once found himself in a sticky situation.

Until now.

And that was all it took. One mistake. These guys could kick the shit out of him and leave him for dead. There was nothing he could do to defend himself.

Surprise was all he had. Roman spun around and shot through the gap between the ginger guy and the short one. If he could make it back to Julie’s, the bar might not have locked the door yet, and he would find sanctuary inside.

The men were quicker. One of them swept Roman’s legs from under him with a deft kick, and he sprawled forward, breaking his fall and saving his face, while skinning his palms.

The men roared with delight.

“He’s a feisty little cunt,” one of them said.

Another grabbed the back of Roman’s T-shirt and hauled him to his feet. Before Roman could resist, the short guy delivered a sharp fist to his guts. Roman doubled over, winded by the force of the punch. Bile surged at the back of his throat.

Shit. This is really happening . Even now, reeling from the first strike, he felt like an observer, as though watching himself from above…except he wasn’t. He was slap bang in the middle of this cluster-fuck, and from the sound of their merriment, these bastards had barely gotten started.

“How many dicks have you munched on tonight?” the tall one asked, twisting Roman’s T-shirt tighter. “Is that what you’ve been up, eh? Suckin’ cocks? I bet it wasn’t enough, not for a cocksucker like you.”

“No chance,” Ginger chipped in. “He can’t get enough of it. I bet he’s gagging for a dick now. No such thing as too much for these gay boys.”

“How would you know?” Roman growled, unable to stop himself. Righteous anger possessed him. “Unless you’re talking from experience. You look the type.”

His insolence earned him another punch in the guts. Roman was ready for it this time and tensed his abs, easing the force behind the blow.

The tall man who held him by the scruff of his shirt delivered another fist to his back, just below the ribcage. Roman bellowed and dizziness overwhelmed him. Now, I’ve had it .

His vision returned in time to see an object fly through the air. He had barely grasped what it was when the bottle struck the ginger man on the back of the head. It hit his skull with a satisfying clunk. The man wavered then dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

“What the fuck? ” the ginger man yelled.

A figure rushed out of the night and spun the shortest and ugliest of his tormentors around. Roman registered a crack of fist against skin and a sickening crunch before the man staggered backwards, covering his face with his hands. Blood gushed between the bastard’s fingers.

“My nose,” he screamed. “My nose, it’s broken.”

The grip on Roman’s T-shirt loosened, and he pulled away from the tall man.

What the hell is happening?

It took his muddled brain seconds to get a handle on it. The guy from the club, the object of his desire, had appeared from nowhere. He’d already dealt with two of the aggressors. The big man made a swing for the stranger with his massive fist. His saviour ducked and sidestepped the blow before delivering an incredible kick to the man’s groin. Despite what they had done to him, even Roman winced at the viciousness and force behind the kick.

A high-pitched scream cut through the night. All three men were out of it, one clutching his head, the other a broken nose and the third cupping his balls as tears streaked down his face.

“Get the fuck out of here,” the stranger growled at them. He had an accent that Roman couldn’t place. Now was not the time to figure it out. “I’ve already called the police. They’ll be here in minutes.”

“You assaulted us,” the ginger man wailed, getting unsteadily to his feet.

“And when the cops arrive, I’ll tell them why,” the man answered. “Self-defence. I recorded what you were up to on my phone before wading in. A homophobic attack will look great on your police record, don’t you think? You can try to explain your side when you go in front of the magistrates’ court. But it won’t be as fun as when I talk to the papers and tell them how easily I kicked your asses.”

The big guy straightened up. His breath was fast and irregular, but he appeared to be making a recovery. Without the element of surprise, Roman wondered how well the stranger would fare against them, however magnificent he’d already proved himself to be. The man was weighing up his options.

“Come on, big boy,” the stranger said, adopting an assertive fighting stance. “Let’s see what you’ve got?”

“I need a hospital,” the little runt wailed. “I’m not kidding. My nose is broken.”

The other two exchanged glances, as though working out whether they could take him together. The ginger one still had a hand on the back of his head.

The big man was the first to speak. “Screw this. Get in the car. It’s not worth the fucking aggro.”

His companions were quick to obey. They were out of their depths, and they knew it. The big man moved to the driver’s side. “There’ll be other nights, faggots. You won’t be so lucky next time.” He spat on the ground before getting behind the wheel.

Roman stared at the man who had saved him as they drove away. He tried to speak, but there were no words. His throat was paralysed.

“Come on,” the stranger said, “before their egos get the better of them and they circle around for another shot.”

“The police,” Roman gasped at last. “You called the police.”

“No. I didn’t have time. And it turns out, I didn’t need them.” He took a gentle grip of Roman’s arm and led him back down the road. “Come on. The New Inn will still be open. We need to get off the streets for now.”

The man walked fast. Roman had trouble keeping up with him and couldn’t stop from looking over his shoulder to see if his attackers were following. The road was clear.

“Thank you,” he said at last. Now that the shock of the ordeal was sinking in, he felt a growing weakness all through his body. I could have died there . At best he’d have faced a trip to the hospital to fix several broken bones. Those men had been serious, and though he hadn’t paid attention to all the hate crimes that had occurred in Blyham, he knew how badly beaten the survivors had been. And five men hadn’t been lucky at all.

“Mallon,” the man said. “My name is Mallon. I couldn’t stand by and watch them get away with that.”

“Thank you,” he repeated. “I’m Roman. How…how did you do that? There were three of them. That could easily have ended differently.”

“Boxing. Boot camps. I’ve been a fighter since I was a boy.”

The New Inn was fifty yards ahead. Roman saw a group of customers outside, and relief rushed through him. People. His kind of people. They were safe—for now, at least.

He glanced at Mallon as they walked. His gaze was fixed in front. A man with purpose and determination . His expression was deadly serious, his jaw taut.

The New Inn was the most traditional of the bars in the village, with old wooden floors and dark wood panelling. The long, original bar led through to a more recent extension and conservatory with a beer garden. The DJ played a selection of songs from the 1970s and ’80s, while the clientele of older gays stood around chatting. The bar area was packed. Mallon guided Roman through the crowd to the near-empty beer garden. Efficient heaters kept the night chill at bay.

“Stay here,” Mallon said, releasing his arm once Roman was seated. “What do you want to drink?”

“Vodka. Diet Coke.”

Mallon nodded and left him.

Roman wrapped his arms around himself and shivered, despite the warmth. Fuck . He’d never experienced anything as frightening in his entire life. Like any gay man, he was used to homophobia, but the abuse he’d experienced in the past had always been verbal—name calling and hateful comments. This was the first time he’d been threatened with physical danger. And if Mallon hadn’t turned up when he did? Roman shuddered and his heart raced again.

His hands throbbed. Some of the skin was broken on both palms from when he’d fallen forward. He inspected the damage. It could have been a lot worse. He’d have to clean them up to avoid getting an infection.

Mallon returned a few minutes later and set a drink in front of Roman. “I got you a double. You’ll need it.”

“Thanks.”

Mallon had a whisky for himself. He pulled out a chair and sat beside him. “Okay now?”

Roman looked at him properly for the first time. When he’d caught sight of him in The Viaduct, in the dim light and from across the room, he had fancied him straight away. That first impression didn’t do justice to how hot he was up close. Roman was in shock and reeling from his ordeal, and he still fancied the hell out of him. Intense grey eyes gazed from beneath a slightly hooded brow, giving his handsome face an air of mystery and danger.

“I think so,” Roman said, snapping back into focus. “Still shaken, I guess. I’ll get over it.” He sipped his drink. The vodka was cheap and harsh with a syrupy sweet mixer. It burned the back of his mouth and throat, but he swallowed it gratefully. Mallon was right, he did need it, more than he realised. He took a deeper drink.

Mallon sipped his whisky. Roman caught the slight grimace as he swallowed. He pulled out a packet of cigarettes and lit one. Roman didn’t know many people who still smoked. It was so outdated and would usually put him off, but it would take more than that to turn him off Mallon.

He released a sigh. “I can’t believe how lucky I am that you came along when you did.”

Mallon nodded, his mouth set in a firm, serious line. “I was looking for you. I searched every room of The Viaduct for you, from the top to the bottom, even in the dark.”

Roman coughed. “You did?”

Mallon nodded, exhaling smoke. “I had given up. Figured you’d found someone you liked more. I was on my way here for a nightcap when I saw the disturbance up the street. I didn’t know it was you until I’d cracked that asshole’s nose.”

Despite the tension of the last half hour, Roman laughed. “You were looking for me? I was searching for you. I gave up when I found you in one of the vaults with Cameron. I figured you had found what you were looking for.”

“Cameron?”

“Dark hair. Around my age. Mixed heritage. ‘Fuck me’ tattoo on his arse. He sucked your dick.”

“Oh.” A flicker of a smile. The suggestion of dimples in his cheeks. “He was just a…snack. Not even that. Terrible blow job. All teeth. I didn’t even come.”

Things had taken a surreal turn. Roman had gone from the shock of an assault to sporting an erection and feeling horny in a few short seconds. “I suppose I should be grateful. If it wasn’t for your disappointment in Cameron, you might not have come looking for me.”

“That’s one way to look at it. Another way is…if I had found you, I would still be in the vaults fucking you, and you would never have encountered those assholes at all.”

Roman blushed, uncomfortable with the rapid gear change. As attractive as he found Mallon, he was too shaken to think about sex. “I can’t believe that happened to me. In all the time I’ve lived here, that’s a first.”

Mallon put an elbow on the table and rested his chin in his hand. “I’ve heard this a problem in your city. The violence. Yes?”

“It didn’t used to be. I’ve been here for six years, first at university then for work. It was always a safe, tolerant city. It’s only in the last eighteen months that things have taken a turn for the worst. I take it you are passing through. You don’t live here?”

“I’m here for work. I don’t know how long for. Just a week this time, but it may be longer in the future.”

“Then it hasn’t been a great introduction. Like I said, Blyham hasn’t always been like this, but now… I don’t know what to think. It’s sad.”

“Sad, yes. But no different to many other places.” Mallon stubbed out the cigarette. “I travel a lot, and this kind of trouble is on the rise everywhere I go. As more far-right assholes come to power and run the countries, it gives the narrow-minded bigots, the intolerant minority, a sense of entitlement. They think they can do what they want. And most of the time they do, because they get away with it. You should learn to fight. Learn how to defend yourself. You might have to on another night.”

Roman looked into those serious grey eyes. He didn’t follow politics or have an allegiance to one party, but what Mallon said sounded true enough. The entire country seemed to teeter on the edge of a shit-pit of hate and violence. He doubted Blyham was worse than any other city. It was an all-pervasive problem.

Roman finished his drink in another mouthful. The taste was horrific, but the alcohol had a soothing effect on his nerves. Under different circumstances he would have been shy and uncomfortable sitting with a man he desired so much. Of the guys he had fucked in the last year, he struggled to remember a meaningful conversation. In an era of apps and hook-ups, talking to a stranger was rare.

As Mallon had saved his life, he figured they were beyond those awkward, getting-to-know-you moments.

He raised the empty glass. “Another? I’ll get them this time.”

Mallon gave a terse shake of his hand. His mouth turned downwards. “I’d rather not.”

Disappointment struck like a slap in the face. “Oh.”

Mallon banged his half-touched drink on the table. “This is piss. Worse than piss.”

Roman laughed nervously. Mallon spoke his mind. Maybe that was the European side of him. “It’s as good as it gets in here. The drinks have always been rough.”

Mallon leaned closer and put a hand on Roman’s wrist. The scent of his aftershave was intoxicating. Even the smoke and cheap whisky on his breath was attractive. “I don’t want to stay here. Come to my hotel. I have liquor. We’ll have a good drink then I’ll fuck you, like I wanted to earlier.”

Roman’s heart was in his throat again. Not through fear this time, but animal attraction and desire. The touch of Mallon’s hand, the closeness of his face, it was impossible to resist. “All right,” he said.

Mallon leaned closer, his head tilted. When their lips met, Roman felt an electrical exchange between them. It went straight from his mouth to his groin.

He knew in that second that Mallon could ask anything of him tonight, and he would deliver.