Rented heart, p.1
Rented Heart, page 1
Riptide Publishing
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Burnsville, NC 28714
www.riptidepublishing.com
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental. All person(s) depicted on the cover are model(s) used for illustrative purposes only.
Rented Heart
Copyright © 2016 by Garrett Leigh
Cover art: Garrett Leigh, blackjazzdesign.com
Editor: Carole-ann Galloway
Layout: L.C. Chase, lcchase.com/design.htm
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Riptide Publishing at the mailing address above, at Riptidepublishing.com, or at marketing@riptidepublishing.com.
ISBN: 978-1-62649-391-9
First edition
September, 2016
Also available in paperback:
ISBN: 978-1-62649-392-6
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Ex-surfer-turned-businessman Liam Mallaney moved back to Holkham, Norfolk, to mourn the loss of his husband. Grief and loneliness keep him a solitary figure, and he likes it that way. There’s no room in his broken heart for anything else.
Rentboy Zac Payne left London and most of his demons behind, but he still only knows one way to make a living. When he spots Liam in a club one night, it seems he’s found his mark. But Liam proves nicer—and their connection far deeper—than he’d bargained for.
Their arrangement quickly becomes too complicated for Zac, who has other things on his mind: namely his BFF and wayward flatmate, Jamie. Zac owes Jamie the world, and even as Jamie’s drug addiction destroys all they have, Zac won’t leave him behind.
Besides, Liam knows nothing of Zac’s home life, too caught up in his own head to think much beyond the crazy heat he and Zac share. But when trouble comes to Zac’s door, putting his life in danger, Liam must set his grief and anger aside to pick up the pieces of Zac’s shattered heart and his own.
Hi, Mum!
*waves*
About Rented Heart
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Epilogue
Dear Reader
Also by Garrett Leigh
About the Author
More like this
Tourist season was always a dodgy time for a rentboy in Norfolk, or, at least, Zac Payne assumed it was. He hadn’t really been in town long enough to tell. In the city he’d left behind, every day had been dicey . . . and dirty. Even in high summer, the temperate British sun was no match for the noise and smog of the Big Smoke.
King’s Lynn, Norfolk, was different—quieter, cleaner, and conversely less predictable. In London, he wouldn’t have thought twice about approaching the miserable-looking hottie leaning against the front wall of the town’s only gay bar, because one protracted stare would’ve told him all he needed to know: that the blond bloke was rich, lonely, and lost, and easy pickings for the faceless good time Zac had to offer. Here in King’s Lynn though, Zac couldn’t be sure the man was even gay, much less willing to put his hand in his pocket for the privilege of having Zac in his bed. Or that he didn’t have a bunch of mates waiting around the corner, ready to give an audacious poof a kicking.
Not that Zac particularly minded a good kicking. In the right context, that shit was fun and the sick side of him enjoyed it.
Focus. Are you marking him, or not?
It was a fair question, because King’s Lynn was a town that had a respectable bedtime. If he didn’t pick up a job soon, he would be done for the night. Fuck it. Zac ducked behind a lamppost and lit up his last weed pipe. He sucked down a lungful of herbal smoke and closed his eyes as it filtered into his bloodstream, dulling what remained of his inhibitions and lighting his senses with a subtle fire. Reborn, he opened his eyes. Colours brightened, the stars sparkled, and across the street, the blond was more alluring than ever. With his high cheekbones, shaggy hair, and broad shoulders, all wrapped up in ripped jeans and a designer T-shirt, he was the kind of dude Zac dreamed of when he went to bed alone.
Zac crossed the road, weaving through the late-night revellers who were spilling from the club, searching for taxis to take them home. The blond saw him coming. His previously empty stare turned curious, and Zac’s confidence took a boost. Perhaps he’d struck gold. “All right, mate?”
The blond smiled slightly, showing Zac a beautiful set of teeth. “Yes, thanks. You?”
Zac shrugged. “I’m bored. This club is shite.”
The blond’s grin widened. “That why you’ve been loitering outside all night?”
“How do you know what I’ve been doing all night?”
“Because I’ve seen you every time I’ve come out for a fag. Looked like you were waiting for someone.”
Not someone. Anyone. But this bloke didn’t need to know that. “Maybe I got stood up.”
“Maybe we both did.”
“Yeah?” Now Zac was the curious one. “What happened?”
“My mate dragged me out. Thinks I need to get laid.”
“And do you?”
The blond shrugged. “Doesn’t everyone?”
Zac couldn’t argue with that. Fucking was like breathing to him, especially when he had a good partner, something he’d yet to find in the rural monotony of eastern England. Shoulda gone to Newquay.
“What’s so funny?”
“Hmm?”
The blond raised an eyebrow. “You’re smirking.”
“Speculating, actually.”
“Yeah? About what?”
“About how you need to get laid.” It was a reckless move, but Zac didn’t care. It had been a long night with no work, like the night before, and the night before that. No work tonight meant no food tomorrow, and he needed to eat almost as much as he needed to get fucked.
If the blond was taken aback by the bluntness, he didn’t let it show. He took a moment to consider his response, before he treated Zac to another lopsided half grin. “If you’d said that a few hours ago, I’d have said I could live without it, but I’ve drunk my body weight in Jäger since then, and I reckon it might be the only thing that will sober me up.”
It was as good a reason as any. “What’s your name?”
“Liam. What’s yours?”
“Zac. Wanna come back to mine?”
“Where do you live?”
“In town. The new flats on the high street.”
Liam pulled the latest iPhone from his pocket and studied the screen before he seemed to make a snap decision. “Why the hell not? Looks like I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Then let’s go.” Zac held out his hand and wrapped his fingers around Liam’s smooth, warm palm. “Oh, and by the way, it’s a hundred for the fuck . . . three if you want to stay all night.”
Liam Mallaney dropped the beautiful man’s hand like he’d been burned. What the fuck? Have I seriously just been picked up by a hooker? Nah, he’d heard him wrong. Shit like that didn’t happen in Norfolk. Damn place was too bloody boring. And that’s why you’re here.
Shut up.
Liam silenced the devil on his shoulder and focused on the dark-haired man—on Zac—studying his intelligent, bottomless green eyes, searching for any sign that he was pulling Liam’s leg, but Zac stared back at him, his gaze steady and expectant. Jesus. He is a hooker.
The realisation didn’t horrify Liam as much as it should’ve done, because nothing truly horrified him anymore. Life had already played its trump card, and as he stood in the moonlight, a foot away from the hottest bloke he’d seen in years, there was no denying the spark of attraction—and arousal—creeping through him. He did need to get laid, really fucking laid, with no emotional strings to disentangle himself from in the morning, and no obligation to pretend he was still capable of giving a shit. Could he buy that freedom? Tonight, it seemed he could.
Liam checked his pocket for his wallet. “One hundred to fuck?”
“If you want. We can do other stuff if you d
on’t have that much.”
Liam snorted. “Trust me. I can afford you. Are we going, or what?”
Zac shrugged, his gaze slightly narrower than it had been before. “Whatever. It’s this way.”
Liam followed him down the side path that led to the high street. The alley was dank and dark, and it crossed his mind that following a rentboy home wasn’t the cleverest move he’d ever made, but as he dodged murky puddles and the squashed remnants of discarded kebabs, he didn’t much care. Whatever Zac had in store for him would be a relief, it had to be.
“Not going to drug me and kill me, are you?”
Liam glanced up, startled by the echo of his own fears. “Not likely, mate. What about you? Gonna handcuff and rob me blind?”
“If you want—the handcuffing, I mean. I won’t need to rob you. I’ve told you my price.”
Indeed he had. Liam’s pulse quickened. He’d come to the club tonight sure he’d be home by ten, tucked up in bed with the dogs and his ever-overflowing inbox, harbouring no regrets save that he’d bothered to go out in the first place. Sex had been the last thing on his mind, until he’d spotted Zac across the road, dancing along the kerb, weaving to his own tune with a dubious-looking cigarette jammed in his mouth. He wondered if Zac knew he’d pictured them fucking long before he’d sauntered over and offered his services.
Not that it mattered. After all, Zac wasn’t doing this for fun.
Liam tried to let the notion of paying someone to find him attractive seep into his self-esteem and shock him into calling time on the madness.
Nothing happened. He pulled a battered pack of Marlboro Lights from his back pocket and lit up, proffering the box to Zac, who took one and followed suit. “Am I your only client tonight?”
“Client?” Zac regarded Liam through a haze of smoke. “This ain’t Pretty Woman, mate. In my world, you’re called a john.”
Liam didn’t particularly care what he was called, but he was curious about his place in Zac’s workday. Was he the first of many, or the last?
“This is me.” Zac stopped outside a nondescript block of new-build flats. “Still wanna come in?”
“If you’ll have me.” The absurdity of his own answer made Liam snigger.
Zac grinned too and opened the exterior door to the flats. “Oh, I’ll have you. Trust me, we’re going to have a good time.”
Liam didn’t doubt it. Zac moved with a sensuous grace and the barest hint of a swagger, all signs of a man who knew he was dynamite in bed, though, he supposed Zac had probably had enough practice. Not like Liam, who hadn’t touched a man in more than a year. Not since—
Stop it. Liam fought the cloud of misery as he climbed the steps behind Zac. Tonight, he’d drunk most of it away, but his Jäger-laced buzz had faded while he’d set himself up for an expensive night of fun with Zac, and he needed a distraction.
Arriving at Zac’s flat provided one even faster than Liam had hoped for. Zac let them in and ushered Liam forward.
Liam stepped inside, glancing around nervously, though for what, he wasn’t quite sure—he’s a hooker, not a serial killer. If anything, Zac was taking the bigger risk. Liam had half a foot and a stone on him, maybe more. Perhaps he’s a ninja. Liam sniggered again. Perhaps his buzz was still there after all.
“So . . .” Zac hovered in the doorway of what looked like a living room. “Do you want to come in and sit down?”
“What do you usually do with a john?”
Zac shrugged. “This and that. What do you want to do?”
“I want to fuck you.” Liam hadn’t known how true it was until he said it, but as he stared at Zac, taking in his slender frame and clear complexion, set off by the greenest eyes Liam had ever seen, he suddenly craved the very thing he’d left the club to avoid.
Zac smirked, like he’d known Liam was a good bet all along. “We need to go over some stuff first, so we both know what we’re getting into.”
“Okay.” Liam chanced a surreptitious glance around what he could see of the flat, taking in the bare walls and basic furniture. “Do we need to sit down for that?”
“Not especially, but I could go for a whiskey. You want anything?”
More booze sounded like the worst idea Liam had ever heard, but he trailed Zac into the sparse living room anyway, and accepted an oversized shot of Grouse, perching on the arm of the couch while he waited for Zac to spit out whatever he needed to say before they got what they’d come here for.
Zac sat on the coffee table, relaxed and nonchalant, like he’d had a stranger over for sex a hundred times. “It’s simple really. Cash up front and no sex without a condom—oh, and I don’t do kissing and small talk.”
“No kissing?” Liam couldn’t suppress a laugh. “Thought this wasn’t Pretty Woman?”
Zac scowled. “Them’s the rules. Take them or leave them.”
Okaaaaay. Liam retrieved his wallet and counted out five twenty-pound notes. He held them up, dangling them an inch from Zac’s face. “I’ll take it.”
Zac took the money and stuffed it, without checking, in a drawer in the coffee table. “Do you have any questions?”
“Me? No.”
“Sure? Don’t want you freaking out halfway through.”
Why not? Surely, if he bolted before they were done, Zac would get paid for half a job, but he kept that theory to himself and considered Zac’s question while Zac topped up their glasses. A million responses sprung to mind, but none seemed appropriate, or anything less than stupid. Zac had covered most of the bases with his Edward Lewis rules: no barebacking, kissing, or talking. What else was there to say? It wasn’t like those things had been high on Liam’s agenda anyway. Jesus Christ, he just wanted—needed—to get laid.
He glanced around again, searching for the bedroom. “Do you live here alone?”
“Sometimes.”
Liam raised an eyebrow. “‘Sometimes’? What does that mean?”
“Exactly what I said. I share this place with a . . . colleague, but they’re away at the moment. Don’t worry. We’re all alone.”
Colleague. It took Liam a moment to catch on. Dear God, was this some kind of brothel? But the notion left him intrigued rather than perturbed, and as Zac rose from the coffee table and stepped forward, it was clear the time for talk had passed.
Zac spread his hands. “How do you want me?”
“Naked,” Liam said without thinking. “Where’s your bedroom?”
“Follow me.”
Zac led Liam back into the hallway and to a closed door. On the other side was a room as utilitarian as the rest of the flat—a bed, a chest of drawers, and a large mirror.
The mirror stopped Liam in his tracks. “Is this the room you always use?”
“It’s my room.”
Fair enough. Liam ventured further into the room, then stopped as he realised he had no idea what to do next. This wasn’t like fucking around with a friend—tumbling to the bed and kissing the hell out of each other until the chips fell as they may. This was something else.
Zac turned to face him. “Do you want me to take your clothes off?”
“What?”
“Your clothes,” Zac repeated. “This works better if we’re both naked.”
“This works better.” Zac’s choice of words got under Liam’s skin. This is a job to him. Strip me, fuck me, then send me on my way. For the first time, a flicker of doubt bloomed in his belly. Was he really going to do this? Fuck a stranger, a hooker, all in the name of distracting himself from old ghosts?
Liam’s mind began to fragment, drifting to places he didn’t want it to go, showing him faces he didn’t want to see: Rosa, Mike, Dad. What the fuck would they think if they knew where he was? And what about Cory? Liam closed his eyes. Till death do us part . . .
“Hey.” Zac appeared in front of Liam. “We don’t have to do this, you know. I can give you your cash back and call you a cab.”
“You’d do that?”
Zac shrugged. “I’m a hooker, not an arsehole. I don’t want you to do something you’re not comfortable with.”
“It’s not that.”
“Yeah? Then what? Scared your wife might find out?”
“My what?”
Zac pointed at the ring Liam still wore on his left hand. “Married, ain’t ya?”
“Yes, but there’s no wife. Never was.”
“You married a bloke?”
