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There’s a man propped up at the bar, head drooping down towards an almost empty glass of whisky. He looks miserable, pathetic. Aaron’s going to shoot him in the back of the head.
He’s not just taken it upon himself to murder someone. People might consider him a thug but he’s not psychotic. This is his job. Although, even to his own ears that sounds a tad strange. Assassin? You can hardly put that on your CV. And Aaron would like to see any future employer get a reference from Cain. Talks back. Never does as he’s told. Can shoot to kill at 100 yards. Never offers to make me a brew. Not exactly glowing praise.
Still, it pays the bills and for the most part Aaron has a fairly clean conscience. The people he goes after are scum of the Earth. The sort that have harmed others, ruined lives, and Aaron’s managed to convince himself that really… he’s doing the world a service. An ugly, violent service granted, but he still counts it as helping.
He glances again at the text he was sent an hour ago from his uncle.
Robert Sugden. Photo attached. He's sitting in The Hilton so get your skates on.
It wasn’t exactly overflowing with information but Aaron prefers working with the bare minimum. The less he knows about these arseholes the better. And Cain only ever gives him the nasty ones. Ross handles the others - his conscience had been sullied many years before he’d fallen into this line of work and he had no intention of trying to cleanse it now. He was quite happy shooting anything that moved.
Aaron glances to his right, the floor-to-ceiling window providing a decent reflection of himself in the glass. He’s wearing a suit, navy blue and just tight enough to emphasise his biceps. Normally he wouldn’t have bothered. Black hoodie, black jeans, black hat, black gloves - that was his usual outfit, but that was when he was lurking in back alleys. Robert’s different though. With Robert, Aaron has a very convenient in.
He’s bisexual.
That was what had come in the other text Cain had sent him, a few minutes after the first. He goes for blokes as well so do what you want with that. Aaron had almost laughed at that, hearing Cain’s uncomfortable, strained tone even through text. Still, it’s the most useful piece of information he’s ever received about a mark and Aaron is going to try and use it to his advantage.
The bar is almost empty and so he slides in beside Robert with ease, elbow propped up on the bar as he turns towards the man. He’s good-looking although a bit too polished for Aaron’s tastes. He usually went for men who were good with their hands - builders, rugby players… Robert looks like he’d be more at home getting a manicure than he would doing some hard graft.
“Can I help you?”
Aaron snaps back to reality, realising he’s been staring and then quickly lets himself flush pink. It will add to his charm. “Sorry, I couldn’t help it,” he admits, chancing a slow, sweet smile which Robert barely glances up at. Well fuck you too, Aaron thinks bitterly. He’s not all that happy flirting with psychopaths and he’s got no intention of continuing if the bloke isn’t even going to notice.
Robert bristles, the line of his shoulders tightening, and Aaron wonders if Cain has made a mistake. Maybe the guy is actually straight.
“Look, I didn’t mean to freak you out. It’s just… well, you’re not bad looking.”
Robert’s hunched over the glass but his gaze flicks towards Aaron for a second. “Tell me something I don’t know.”
And there’s the kind of man Aaron had been expecting. Not the miserable drunk but the cocky bastard with too much self-importance. Saying that might get him a split lip, but it doesn’t mean he can’t give back as good as he’s getting.
“Bit arrogant mind,” he comments, still smirking, before adding: “but that’s not a deal breaker.”
Robert lets out a soft snort and turns to face him, his gaze sharp, almost accusing.“Oh yeah? Planning on taking me home, are you?” he bites out, though the aggression is somewhat lost in the drunken slur. Aaron pretends not to notice, just keeps on smiling like he’s oblivious to Robert’s serious attitude problem.
“I was thinking about it.”
Somehow this only serves to rile Robert further, who huffs an irate sigh and then slips off the barstool to stand rather lopsidedly in front of Aaron, hands balled into fists. “And what makes you think I’d go anywhere near you?” he snarls, but before the words have even left his mouth Aaron can tell from the sudden vacancy in the man’s eyes that he’s no longer fully in control of his own body. He sways precariously, one hand reaching for the bar but misses and then goes down like a tree.
Or almost, because Aaron catches him under the arms just before he smacks into the floor and hauls him back upright, or as upright as Robert is able to manage in his current state. Which amounts to slumping against Aaron’s chest and grumbling quite loudly.
“I don’t need your help,” is all he can truly decipher but it’s enough to have Aaron gritting his teeth.
“Want me to drop you on the floor, then?” he asks rather spitefully, because frankly this is well above his pay grade. He shouldn’t be babysitting his target, he should be dragging him to the closest alleyway and putting a bullet in his skull.
“Sorry.”
At first he thinks it’s someone else speaking, a stranger who’s accidentally bumped into him without him realising. But the bar is almost deserted and Robert’s now trying to verbalise his apology again with very little accuracy.
“What was that?” Aaron asks, leaning in a little as the smirk returns with a vengeance. “Almost thought you'd said sorry to me, then.”
Robert sighs again, frustrated, before attempting to right himself properly. “I am sorry. Shouldn’t’ve… snapped,” he says, looking more than a little worse for wear but somehow retaining an air of confidence which has Aaron straightening in response. “You’re good — ” Robert hiccups suddenly, then frowns, as if he hadn’t been expecting it, before continuing: “good-looking, too.”
He’d not been expecting it so he only manages a slightly flustered “thanks” while his eyes are permanently glued to the floor.
“It’s the eyes.”
Aaron looks up at that, can’t help himself, and finds Robert just staring at him. “What?”
“Blue. They’re blue. Nice. Blue is nice,” Robert tries to explain, stumbling a little over the words and then, much to Aaron’s surprise, blushing. The man isn’t supposed to have a heart, how the Hell is he getting embarrassed right now?
“Think you’ve had enough,” he responds, already glancing over his shoulder towards the door. He needs to get this moving —
“I just need to sit. Let the world stop spinning.”
Fuck. Well there goes his plan.
“Okay,” he relinquishes all the same, helping Robert back onto his stool before taking a seat himself. They sit in silence for what feels like an eternity, until eventually Aaron can’t take seeing Robert just staring blankly at his own hands. “Bad day at the office, was it?”
Robert’s eyebrows scrunch together, wincing. “Could say that.”
Aaron can take a hint. “It’s fine, you don’t need to talk about it.”
“No, no… I’m just… I don’t know. Nothing’s working out the way it should be.” He sounds small, vulnerable, and it does something to Aaron that he tries very hard to ignore. Nothing’s working out the way it should be. Yeah, he's got a good idea of what that feels like right now.
“Probably best not to say anymore, eh?” he suggests because frankly, he can’t handle hearing anymore about Robert. The man’s already turning to the consistency of marshmallow, and Aaron’s not entirely sure he feels capable right now of pulling the trigger, even if he does somehow manage to get Robert on his own with no witnesses.
“Stupid.” Robert’s still glaring at his hands, oblivious to Aaron’s internal dilemma. “Dad’d hate me.”
Oh brilliant, and now I’m going to have to hear about his family as well. “I’m sure he won’t,” he tries, hoping he can somehow steer them safely away from this particular conversation.
“He’s dead,” Robert answers, and well… that’s one way to end a conversation. “Guess it doesn’t matter either way. Didn’t give a toss before, definitely won’t now.”
Ross would drag him outside right now before he keeps rambling on. In fact, Ross would never have let it get this far in the first place.
Strangely, Aaron’s glad that Ross didn’t take this one.
“I’m sorry,” he says and means it. He is sorry, though for a lot more than Robert will ever know.
“Don’t be. You didn’t kill him, did you?” Robert jokes, but the gun tucked into the inside of his suit jacket means Aaron can barely raise a smile. He can’t do this. He can’t. Not now, not with the poor bloke pouring his heart out over a dead dad who didn’t give a shit about him.
“Maybe you should head home,” Aaron advises, already getting up. He’s not going to take 'no' for an answer this time. Robert’s leaving, now, and Aaron’s going to go back to his cramped one-bed flat and figure out how the Hell he explains all this to Cain.
Robert hums his agreement, pushing himself off the stool before shuffling towards the door. “Taxi rank… it’s down the street,” he says, then glances back with almost plaintive eyes. “Walk me?”
“You must think I’m a gentleman,” he says, arching a brow. Robert just keeps staring, suddenly looking more lucid than Aaron’s seen him all night.
“Aren’t you?” he questions, tone serious, and it makes Aaron’s insides liquify. He just swallows hard before forcing his feet to move, heading straight past Robert towards the door.
“Come on, then,” he manages to force out just as he steps back into the warm night air. Robert’s at his back in a second, the two of them walking far too close to be just friendly. Aaron’s arm keeps brushing against Robert’s and the man is smiling now, the cat that got the cream.
“You’re sweet. Why’re you so sweet?” His tone is all wonderment and awe, and Aaron shies away from it.
“Guess I can’t help it,” he answers, but his mind is buzzing, focused on too many other things like the gun weighing him down and the gnawing sense of guilt scraping at his chest. He doesn’t even notice Robert has stopped until he’s suddenly walking on his own. He turns back, comes to stand in front of him with a questioning look.
“I wonder…” is all Robert manages to say, a murmur at most, and then his tongue darts out to wet his bottom lip, eyes dropping instantly to Aaron’s mouth. He doesn’t even have a second to register it properly before Robert lunges forwards, their noses crashing together just before their lips follow suit. Aaron lets out a startled grunt that’s masked by Robert’s much louder moan of satisfaction. And for one second, just one insane second, Aaron leans into it. He hasn’t kissed anyone in a while, or not like this, not without some strategy behind it. And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t feel bloody good, Robert’s warm hand at the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, and his mouth just starting to open, inviting Aaron’s tongue inside —
He presses a firm hand against Robert’s chest and pushes him back. Robert sways for a moment, unbalanced, and then gives Aaron a look that is equal parts confusion and hurt.
“Why?” is all he asks, and something breaks a little in Aaron’s chest, to hear him sounding so young and unsure. He runs a hand through his hair and grips hard at the strands, trying to focus himself in the present.
“You’re drunk and I don’t want to take advantage,” he lies, feels even worse for it. But recognition dawns on Robert’s face, acceptance following just behind.
“Oh. Okay,” he says, like it’s nothing, like he’s fine with that explanation. Aaron’s not sure what to make of that, it’s not the sort of reaction a man like Robert is supposed to have.
“Where’s your phone?” Robert asks then, and Aaron’s lost.
“What?”
“Phone. I need your phone,” Robert repeats and he passes it across without thinking, watching as Robert taps a bit aggressively at the screen and then starts typing. When he eventually passes it back, Aaron’s got a new contact called Rebort.
“It’s me,” Robert says, pointing at the name as if it wasn’t glaringly obvious already. Aaron can’t help but think he makes a pretty adorable drunk with those wide, green eyes and lopsided smile.
“Thanks.”
“It’s so you can call. Me. Call me. Like Blondie,” he continues, and then points at his hair and starts grinning wildly. Aaron has to bite down on a laugh.
“Great. I’ll do that,” he says, makes to move towards the taxi rank but feels a hand at his arm. He tenses immediately, the fight-or-flight instinct kicking in without delay.
“Pinky promise?” Robert asks, not realising how Aaron’s frozen in front of him, but it doesn’t matter. Aaron melts as soon as he realises what he’s being asked.
“You’re joking,” he says, because he hasn’t made a pinky promise since he was about six. Robert still extends his hand regardless, deadly serious judging by his expression.
“You can’t go back on a pinky promise,” he explains and now Aaron has to smile. The logic is ridiculous and incredibly endearing.
“All right. Fine.” He crooks his pinky and loops it around Robert’s, squeezing just a little. “Promise.”
Robert breaks into a grin, letting go before hurrying as gracefully as his gangly, awkward limbs can carry him towards the nearest taxi. He pauses just as he’s by the car and shouts: “Talk to you soon, mystery man!”
Aaron just waves, watching as Robert clambers into the back of the taxi before it pulls off. He stands on the street for a few minutes afterwards, wondering how tonight could possibly have gone so badly wrong.
***
He doesn’t sleep. He just stares at the ceiling, replaying every second of his conversation with Robert Sugden over in his mind until he feels himself going insane. By the time the sun is peaking just above the horizon, Aaron’s eyes are burning from lack of sleep and his head is filled with static electricity.
A text comes through at just after eight from Cain.
What the hell happened?
He sighs and doesn’t reply, instead scrolling through his contacts until he finds the one he wants. It rings five times before suddenly he hears a croaky voice on the other end.
“Hello?”
“Hi. Um… I’m not sure you’ll remember me but — ”
“Mystery man? Is that you?” Robert sounds hoarse but Aaron can still hear the tinge of a smile in his voice and it feels like sunshine on his skin. He pulls his knees up to his chin, leans his head back against the wall, and bites down on a smile of his own. He remembered me. The exhilaration of it makes him stiffen, panic, and he tamps it down immediately.
“Yeah, it’s me. Aaron, actually. That’s my name.”
“Think I like ‘mystery man’ better but I can work with it,” Robert says, now sounding slightly more alive. “I’m glad you called.”
He just manages to repress a warm shiver but can’t stop himself from asking: “Are you?”
“I was drunk but I wasn’t that drunk. I can still remember those blue eyes. Doubt I’d ever forget them.”
Aaron scoffs at that. “You’re a lot smoother without the alcohol.”
“You’ve seen nothing yet.” And there’s the arrogance creeping in again. Strangely it’s a comfort to him, knowing that the man he’s been asked to kill is there, even if he’s not quite as easy to grasp hold of as Aaron had first thought. Still, he detaches a little more now, straightens his legs on the bed.
“That right?” he asks, keeping his voice even despite the challenge underneath. Robert picks up on it immediately.
“Mm-hmm. I could take you out, show you just what a charmer I can be when I’m not stumbling over my own feet.”
“Well there’s an offer I can’t refuse.”
“Then don’t,” Robert counters immediately. “Let’s go somewhere today. We could take a drive… get out of the city.” There’s an urgency to his voice, just noticeable, and Aaron frowns, wondering why the sudden urge to leave.
“Running away, are you?” he asks, meaning it as a joke.
“No.” The denial is too sharp and Robert clears his throat quickly. “Just fancy a change of scenery. Relax a bit,” he explains more softly. There’s beat or two of silence, Aaron warring with himself and Robert waiting impatiently on the other end. Eventually it snaps completely and he says: “Come on. Say yes.”
The thing is, this is what Aaron had wanted. The two of them alone, a second chance at ending his life. But even the thought of it… It makes him feel queasy.
“Where are you planning on going?” he asks and then swallows hard. The guilt won’t go down.
“I don’t know. It’s a nice day, we could go out into the countryside.”
“Is that code for a quick shag in a lay-by?” It comes out automatically, the snarky, flirtatious response that Robert seems to tease from him without any effort. Aaron barely recognises himself, certainly doesn’t understand the hot flutter in his stomach as Robert full-belly laughs.
“What do you take me for? I’ve got more class than that.”
“If you say so.”
“Will you though? Come with me?” And there’s the softness again, the kind that Aaron just can’t associate with the people he targets. His voice is too vulnerable, too pleading, too hopeful. It makes Aaron want to tear his skin off.
“Well if you’re that keen then I might as well. Give me a time and place and I’ll be there,” he answers. The sooner he gets this over with the better. He can’t take hearing anymore of Robert’s pleas. He just needs it done.
There’s a smile in Robert’s voice when he replies: “I knew you’d see it my way, mystery man.” And then he’s gone, the line dead. Aaron drops the mobile into his lap and stares at the wall opposite, wondering how he’s ever going to get through today.
He picks up his phone and quickly shoots off a text to Cain, fingers trembling.
Change of plan. I’ll have it done today.
***
“You made it.” Robert’s leaning against his car, dressed more casually today in jeans and a navy jumper. It’s got tan patches on the elbows and Aaron’s not sure whether to hate him more for his fashion sense or for how endearing he looks.
“You sound surprised,” he replies, pulling the sleeves of his black hoodie lower over his knuckles. His gun is digging into his lower back, the waistband of his jeans tight around the hilt, and his mind keeps wandering to all the other times he’s pulled that trigger. It’s never seemed so impossible.
Robert grins, opens up the passenger door for Aaron. “Well you’re a mystery man, aren’t you? Unpredictable is your middle name.”
“Pretty sure I don’t have one,” Aaron shoots back, slipping inside. It’s retro, though he has a feeling Robert would call it vintage, and it’s evidently his pride and joy because once he's closed the driver's door, he starts smoothing his hands over the leather steering-wheel. What would they feel like on me, he thinks, and then forces himself to look out of the window.
“You know the whole point of being mysterious is that you don’t give away details about yourself. You’re not very good at this.”
He’s barely listening, can’t seem to shake the image of those fingers skimming over his chest, and when he finally chokes out a ‘sorry’, he’s not saying it for the reasons Robert assumes.
“It’s all right, I forgive you. Pretty sure I’d forgive anything for those eyes.”
I bet you wouldn’t, Aaron thinks, the cold metal of his gun sending shocks up the length of his spine. He keeps his gaze trained on the window, refuses to look at Robert as the car pulls out and they start their journey, but with every mile all Aaron can think is how Robert’s driving to his death. It’s cruel and he hates himself for it. But Cain wouldn’t have given him this one if Robert was innocent. He’s got to be hiding something and whatever it is, it’s bad enough that someone wants him dead.
“So, where are you taking me then?” he asks after they’ve spent what feels like an age in silence. The pavements and terraced houses have been replaced with fields stretching out green and gold towards the horizon.
“I told you, we’re going out into the sticks. Me, you, and nature,” Robert answers, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on his thigh. There’s a part of him, impulsive and aching, which wants to reach out and tangle their fingers together, but he can’t do it. This isn’t a date, this isn’t anything. The man’s going to be dead within the hour.
“Sounds like a euphemism,” he retorts eventually, forcing himself back into the present. He can’t keep torturing himself like this. He’ll never be able to shoot if he does.
Robert’s answering smirk is lethal. “You’ve got a filthy mind, Aaron.”
“Oh so you do remember my name, then?”
“Unforgettable,” Robert says then glances over. “That’s your other middle name.”
Aaron considers that for a moment. “Unpredictable and unforgettable? Suppose I’ve been called worse.”
“By who? I’ll knock them flying.”
He shrugs, doesn’t want to even think about how protective Robert sounded just then. “They were probably right.”
“Not possible. It’s my job to be a good judge of character and you’re good to the core. I can tell.” He sounds sure, like he can see into Aaron’s soul. But that can’t be true, because if he could then he wouldn’t have just called him ‘good’. He’s not good. He’s nowhere close.
“I’ll take your word for it,” he answers.
Robert pulls the car down a much narrower road, barely wide enough for one car, and Aaron sits up a little straighter. “You really weren’t joking when you said we were going out into the countryside. We’re in the middle of nowhere here.” Somehow it makes him feel sick, realising Robert has taken them to the perfect spot for his own execution.
“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on murdering you.” Robert’s too focused on parking the car in the passing place to notice Aaron’s frozen reaction, and when he does eventually flash him a smile, Aaron’s managed to get a handle on himself. “I took some food with us, thought we could have lunch over in one of the fields.”
Aaron nods, follows Robert’s lead and gets out of the car before standing by the boot. When Robert pops it, he realises that ‘some food’ actually constitutes a hamper filled to the brim.
“You made us a picnic?” he questions, too dumbfounded to say anything else. This can’t be happening.
“Nothing fancy,” Robert says but his cheeks are colouring rapidly and Aaron wants to punch him.
“It’s a picnic. That’s already fancy.”
“Well, we don’t have to. I mean, we could — ”
“No,” Aaron stops him, trying to keep his frustration in check. “No, a picnic’s fine. It’s good. I just wasn’t expecting it.”
Robert softens in relief and immediately hauls the basket out of the boot. “Okay. Do me a favour and grab the blanket from the car, would you?”
He’s already away over into the field, climbing over the stile and making his way out across the golden stubble. Aaron watches him, wonders if he should just shoot him here and now, before pulling out the blanket and slamming the car door closed.
They end up almost in the middle of the field, the wool blanket spread out underneath them and enough food to feed five hundred. Aaron can barely eat anything, sick to his stomach, but he forces down a cheese and tomato sandwich just to appease Robert.
You don’t have to make him feel better. You’re going to put a bullet through his brain, he thinks aggressively, but even with the gun at his back it sounds like a lie. I can’t do this. I can’t do this to him.
“I might have freaked out after you phoned,” Robert explains as he’s tucking into some grapes, smile sheepish. “Ran straight round to M&S to pick up everything you might like. Then I realised you were a mystery man and I had no clue what you liked, so I basically bought up half the shop.” He runs a hand through his hair, the blond strands sticking up on end, and Aaron wants… He just wants. Everything. All of it. More than he can have, anyway.
“You didn’t have to go to this much trouble,” he says quietly, head ducked low.
“I’m trying to make a good second impression considering how badly the first one went.”
His mouth ticks up at the corners involuntarily. “I don’t know, I got a kiss out of it. Wasn’t all bad.”
Robert grins at him, warm enough to rival the sun. “Yeah?”
Aaron just shrugs, sharp and defensive. He shouldn’t be doing any of this. He should leave.
“I don’t really do this.” Robert’s voice is impossibly quiet and when Aaron looks at him, his eyes are cast down at the ground, refusing to lift.
“Plan picnics for complete strangers? I should hope not,” Aaron says, trying to lighten the mood. Robert gives him a reproachful look.
“I meant… this. I’ve not really had time to go out with anyone recently. I’ve been working all the time.”
“Sounds tough.”
“It’s Hell,” Robert admits, then sighs. “I’m thinking of quitting, actually.”
That catches his attention. Robert’s supposed to be the hot-shot businessman, at least according to Cain. He’s absolutely not supposed to be leaving his job.
“Oh?”
“I thought it was my big break. My boss is a business veteran, the ‘Alan Sugar of Agriculture’ is what they call him. He owns companies up and down England, he’s built himself an empire and I was helping to expand it further. But… things got messy. I fooled around with his daughter and you can just imagine how well that went down. It was nothing serious… with Chrissie, I mean. Just a fling, a bit of fun, but Lawrence didn’t see it that way. He started freezing me out, wouldn’t let me sit in on important meetings, gave me all the grunt work as if I hadn’t put millions into his back pocket.” He’s worked himself up and now he exhales deeply, rubs at his forehead with tender fingertips. “Anyway, it’s time I left. I’ve already put feelers out, a few clients are considering coming with me. I was thinking of starting up a business of my own.”
Aaron can feel it. The pieces are slotting slowly into place and the image is going to be revealed to him any second.
“That sounds… dangerous,” he says, watches as Robert just rolls his eyes.
“I can take Lawrence. He might have the experience but he doesn’t have the energy anymore to keep up. He should retire but he’s too stubborn. I can outpace him and my fresh ideas mean that the clients will come flocking to me rather than staying with him and his outdated strategies.”
“Does he know? That you’re thinking of leaving?” Aaron asks, but he doesn’t need to hear the answer. He knows, feels it deep in his gut. This is all backwards, all of it.
“I’ve kept it quiet,” Robert says with a shake of his head. “Only me and a few others know what I’m planning. I’m almost looking forward to seeing the shock on his face when he realises half his firm’s profits are going to vanish along with me. Then we’ll see who he’s calling dispensable.”
He called you dispensable and you think he’s talking about business, but he’s not. He’s talking about your life.
The knowledge is heavy with truth and it sinks inside him like a stone. “You should be careful,” he warns, ignoring the irony of him being the one to say it. Robert gives him a wink and a smile.
“Worried about me?”
“He doesn’t sound like the sort of person you mess around with.” Aaron should know, he’s got the gun and execution order to prove it.
“I know him. Chances are he’ll come after me once he’s found out but by then it’ll be too late to do any real damage. I’ve got the element of surprise on my side.” Robert looks up then, sees the concern there in Aaron’s eyes and softens. “Hey, I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.”
“If you say so.”
Something sparks in Robert’s eyes, amusement perhaps, or just awe. “God, you really are sweet. I thought maybe it was because I was drunk but… this is obviously just you.”
Aaron feels his heart clenching tightly and has to bite the inside of his cheek against the pain. “I’m not as good as you think I am.”
“I really doubt that,” Robert replies, the certainty still there. Aaron hates how sure he sounds.
They eat for a while in companionable silence, the two of them picking over cheese and bread, taking swigs from their beer. Eventually Robert rips open another punnet of fruit and offers one to Aaron. “Strawberry?”
“What… are you gonna try and feed it to me?” he asks, taken aback, but Robert grins at him.
“Would you let me?”
“What do you think?”
He laughs then, leaving the punnet on the blanket before lying down next to it, eyes gazing upwards towards the blue bowl of the sky. “It’s been ages since I’ve been out this way.”
“The countryside?”
“No, Yorkshire,” Robert corrects, his jaw tight now. “My family stays not far from here. It’s how I knew where to go.”
He shouldn’t want to know this, any of it, but Aaron’s curious, an itch he needs to scratch. “So you’re a country bumpkin, then?”
A flicker of a smile passes Robert’s lips but his expression turns sombre almost immediately. “Farmer’s son.”
“Wow. Can’t say I saw that coming.”
“Yeah well, I wasn’t much of a son and he wasn’t much of a dad,” he answers and Aaron can hear the heartbreak in his voice. “Suppose none of it really rubbed off on me. I didn’t want it to, actually. I was never interested in the farm… or not like my brother, anyway.”
Aaron finds himself shuffling just a little closer, leaning down on his elbow so he can look Robert in the eye. “You’ve got a brother?”
“And a sister. Andy was the one trusted to take over the farm… well, trusted with everything actually. And Vic… she’s like you. Good to the bone.” The sharpness has gone from his voice and instead he sounds dejected, accepting. Aaron wants to wrap his arms around him.
“What happened?”
“I left when I was nineteen and I didn’t look back,” Robert explains, too matter-of-fact to be believed. There’s emotion behind the words but he’s trying hard not to let it show. Aaron gives him a look, waits for more, and Robert chews on his bottom lip before finishing: “Wasn’t really given the option to look back.”
It doesn’t explain everything, but it’s enough to know that a lot of Robert’s bravado has been just that. Nothing more than smoke and mirrors, a way to disguise his loneliness.
“I’m sorry,” Aaron says, low and gentle. He feels it go straight through him and all Robert does is smile at him like he’s grateful. Like no one’s ever said that to him before. Maybe they haven’t.
“Don’t be. It’s all done now, no point in thinking about it too much. Dad’s gone anyway, so’s Mum, and I don’t really keep in touch with the rest of my family other than Christmas and birthday cards. All water under the bridge.”
Only it’s not, or Robert wouldn’t be swallowing so much like he’s trying to keep the ache from his voice.
“You don’t ever plan on visiting them?” Aaron asks.
Robert shakes his head immediately. “What good would it do? I was the black sheep and I doubt that’ll have changed just because my dad’s not there to judge me anymore. Andy’ll have gladly taken up that particular role and chances are he’ll be sharpening his pitchfork before I’ve stepped foot back in the village.”
“But your sister — ”
“Has moved on without me. They all have. I was always the spare part and I’m better off out of it. Everything I’ve done, good or bad, I’ve done on my own. There’s no point digging it all back up again.” His voice has gone impossibly sharp, a razor warning that Aaron wants to pull back from. But then Robert’s shoulders slump in defeat, remorse etched into every line of his face. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offload on you. Suppose I’ve not really had someone to talk to about this stuff… Shit, sorry. This isn’t making a good impression.” He’s got a hand over his eyes, scrubbing at his face, and Aaron nudges his knee against Robert’s to get his attention.
“You should stop worrying about what I think of you. You’re doing fine.”
The relief makes Robert’s eyes shine brighter and he smirks, the old confidence back in place like armour. “Fine? Not sure that’s a ringing endorsement.”
Aaron shrugs, glad to be back on more even terrain. “It’s as good as you’re gonna get from me,” he says, drawing a laugh from Robert. He’s not sure how he does it, only that he wants to keep doing it for as long as he’s able. He wants to hear that laugh every day.
“Well at least you're honest,” Robert mutters, fingers now diving into the plastic punnet before glancing up to meet Aaron’s gaze. “Another strawberry?”
“Go on then.”
Robert takes a fat, juicy berry and says: “Open up.” His smile is eager and Aaron looks at him suspiciously.
“Pretty sure I said-”
“Yeah, yeah. Just open up.”
Aaron does so without any further argument, watching as Robert hold the stalk so Aaron can bite into the ripe flesh. Some of the juice drips onto Robert’s fingers and before he can wipe it on the blanket, Aaron grabs at his wrist and brings his hand forward, dragging his tongue slowly over the pad of Robert’s thumb. The sweetness of it has him going back, licking the last few sticky remnants from the rest of Robert’s fingers, and Robert just watches on, jaw slack and green eyes swallowed up with black.
“You know if I didn’t know any better I’d say you did that deliberately,” he says, voice like gravel.
Aaron just bats his eyes, pretending to be oblivious to the effect it’s had on him. On them both. “Did what?”
“Maybe you’re not so innocent after all.” Robert’s voice pitches even lower and he leans forwards. Aaron can smell the beer and strawberries on his breath, feel the whisper of it on his skin. He smiles.
“Guilty as sin, that’s me,” he murmurs and doesn’t resist when Robert’s hand slides to his hip.
“Let’s find out, shall we?” The last word hitches in a question and Aaron sways forwards, captures Robert’s lips with his own in a kiss that’s too pure and sweet for what he wants, what he likely deserves. It should be aggressive, painful even, but instead it’s slow and explorative, learning the taste and feel of each other with slick swipes of tongue and soft moans. Robert rolls onto his back, dragging Aaron with him, and they settle, warm body over warm body, chest to hip connected as they go deeper. He can feel the warm breadth of Robert’s palms skimming over his arms, shoulders, and then down the long column of his spine. He shivers at the touch, pushes his hips harder and represses a smile when Robert’s whole body jolts at the contact. He wants to know everything, memorise every inch of sensitive skin, make him light up in ways no one else has. It’s more than hunger, more than desire. There’s a desperation to his touch now, makes him dig his fingertips in harder, trying to hold on. And Robert responds in kind, lets Aaron’s tongue push further, open his legs wide so Aaron can grind faster against him. Slow has become fast, aching has become urgent, and the two of them push and pull each other closer out of need alone.
Aaron’s so lost in the feel of it that he doesn’t realise at first that Robert’s shaking, and when he does he pulls back slightly, watching as Robert tries to suppress a laugh.
“I’d say ‘is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me’ but… if that was somehow your dick it would be a medical emergency,” he says through his laughter, hands now rubbing over the waistband of Aaron’s jeans.
The air stills around him, not a breath of breeze. The whole world has been reduced to that gun and Robert’s hands, the two already colliding before Aaron can say or do anything to prevent it. Their eyes meet as Robert’s fingertips skate over the metal, his eyes widening as he realises slowly what he’s touching.
“Jesus Christ…”
“Robert — ”
Robert recoils immediately, pushing backwards until they’re separated. He looks at Aaron like he’s been burnt. “Why the Hell do you have a gun?” he hisses, but it’s confusion and fear in his voice rather than anger. Aaron can’t say that’s much better.
“Let me explain-”
“How do you explain taking a gun to a picnic? This isn’t fucking Basra!” His voice is raw, teeth bared, and Aaron wants so desperately to tell him but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know how to make any of this better.
“Robert, please — ” He starts to move forwards, thinks if he can only touch… but Robert flinches instantly, shuffling backwards on the blanket to distance himself further.
“No, don’t… don’t move. Don’t… Why the fuck do you have a gun?” he asks again, somehow calmer though Aaron’s sure it won’t last long. Not if he tells him the truth.
“It’s complicated.”
“Then un-complicate it,” Robert counters sharply.
Aaron takes in a long breath, steadies himself, and answers: “I think your boss wants you dead.”
It’s not the answer Robert’s expecting, though God knows what he had been thinking. He digs his fingers into the roots of his hair, claws at his scalp like he’s trying scrape the image from inside his brain. “And you worked that out through… what, telepathy?” he snaps. When he finally looks up, he must see something in Aaron’s eyes, guilt no doubt, because his whole expression changes to one of realisation and then acceptance. “Fuck, so… what are you telling me? He paid you?”
“It’s not how it sounds — ”
“So you’re not some gun-for-hire ready and willing to shoot random people for cash, then?”
No, that’s Ross, he thinks, but it’s not exactly accurate. Aaron’s got blood on his hands as well, and money in his back pocket, all the while pretending that he was doing some kind of moral service.
“I don’t go after… It’s not that simple. The people I…” he tries, but trails off when he sees Robert glaring at him.
“Kill is the word you’re looking for,” he helpfully supplies and Aaron grinds his teeth together.
“All right, yeah. The people I kill aren’t good. They’re scum, a bullet through the back of the head is the least they deserve,” he bites back, but he knows before the words have left his mouth that he’s lost. Something changes in Robert, his whole demeanour shifts imperceptibly, and Aaron watches on, horrified, realising that he’s just quashed the last chance he had at making things right.
“And I fall into that category?” Robert asks, almost like he’s expecting Aaron to say ‘yes’.
“No!” he exclaims instead, balls his hands into fists in his lap to keep himself from reaching out again. “No… you’re different. Look, let’s finish up here and — ”
“You must be joking! You think I’m going to sit here and eat sandwiches with the guy who was planning on shooting me?” Robert cuts in, then stops abruptly, eyes sharp and accusing. “Are you still planning on shooting me?”
Even the thought of it is so beyond his comprehension and Aaron shakes his head vehemently, hoping Robert will see just how disgusting the idea is to him. “No.”
Only it doesn’t have the desired effect. Robert stands and immediately about turns for the car, striding through the field at a pace which Aaron’s sure is motivated by fear rather than anger. The knowledge of it twists like barbed wire in his chest.
“Robert!” he shouts, stands as well even as his knees threaten to buckle. He still can’t quite believe how quickly it’s all been destroyed. He thought he’d have more time…
Robert doesn’t stop until he reaches the car and then he turns, shoots Aaron another glare, and yells: “Do me a favour and stay the fuck away from me from now on!”
Aaron doesn’t bother to respond this time. There’s nothing he can say now that will make it better, so instead he just watches as Robert brings the engine to life with a snarl before screeching off, leaving him alone with the scattered remnants of a once happy afternoon.
***
“You’ve got some explaining to do, lad.”
He’s barely through the door but Cain’s already in front of him, shoulders squared and ready to do battle. Aaron’s more than willing to meet him blow for blow.
“Tell you what, why don’t you go first, eh? Let’s start with why I was given Robert when clearly he’s done nothing wrong!” His voice is strained, weaker than he wants it to be, but he had to walk over a mile just to hitch a ride back into town and Robert’s words are going round in his head. The last thing he needs is his uncle playing the sanctimonious bastard.
“And how would you know that? Or shouldn’t I ask,” Cain adds, the insinuation clear. Aaron sees red.
“Fuck you!” he hisses, rocking forwards with puffed-out chest. Cain arches an eyebrow and Aaron immediately takes a necessary step back. He needs to cool it or they really will end up tearing each other limb from limb. “His boss wants him dead because he’s planning on leaving the firm. I told you, Cain, I told you that I only wanted the ones who really deserved it.”
“Well someone thinks he deserves it,” Ross chimes in, appearing all of a sudden from the shadows, and the two of them glare at him until he raises both hands in surrender, still smirking.
“You know I’ve just had him on the phone? The boss, shouting in my ear about Robert storming into his office, accusing him of attempted murder?”
Aaron’s mind ricochets, imagining Robert in the state he was in, marching through to Lawrence’s office and hurling accusations. Strangely, it makes Aaron feel better, knowing that Robert’s aggression hasn’t just been channelled in his direction. “Good, I’m glad he did. The man should be locked up!”
“And us along with him, then, or are you forgetting you played a part in all this?” Cain reminds him, as if he could ever forget.
“I didn’t go through with it though, did I? I’m the only one out of all of us who actually has a conscience!” he counters, ignoring Ross’s snort from the corner.
“And look what trouble it’s gotten us into.” Cain scrubs his face with his hand and then looks over Aaron’s shoulder. “I should have given it to Ross.”
“Agreed,” Ross mutters and it sends fire through Aaron’s lungs. Just the idea… God, Robert would never have stood a chance. He’d have been dead in five seconds flat.
“Robert didn’t deserve to die. He didn’t do anything,” he says, voice shredded now. He just wants to go home and sleep until he stops feeling like this.
“You’re in too deep with him,” Cain mutters, not angry anymore but sounding distinctly disappointed. He brushes past Aaron but stops as he reaches Ross. “Do me a favour and knock some sense into him? I’m washing my hands of this.” And with that he’s gone, the door banging hard as he exits. Aaron stays standing, staring at nothing, until he hears the echo of Ross’s footsteps growing nearer.
“Never a good idea to fall for one of them,” he hears him say in that permanently amused, mocking tone. Aaron bristles immediately.
“It wasn’t planned,” he bites back because there’s no point denying it when the truth is written all over his face. Ross just rolls his eyes, devoid of sympathy.
“Cain’ll sort it.” It’s said casually but Aaron’s head snaps up, panic rooting him to the spot. It takes Ross a minute to understand why and then he raises a hand to stop Aaron spiralling further. “I mean, he’ll sort it with the boss-man. Sugden’s not gonna cark it, or not because of any of us.”
Aaron deflates immediately, relief overwhelming him. Even the thought of Robert dying… it’s too much. Ross sees it as well, puts a hand on his shoulder and says: “If it’s that serious, go find him and tell him. Damage is done now, might as well get something out of it.”
He doesn’t wait for a response, just heads out the same way Cain did, leaving Aaron alone once more, but this time with the embers of determination slowly reigniting.
***
Robert’s address is on file. They don’t usually make ‘house calls’ but sometimes it’s been necessary if plans have been changed last minute. Aaron waits across the street until he sees someone exiting the building and quickly catches the door before it closes. Robert’s apartment is on the fourth floor and Aaron takes the stairs two at a time, breathless by the time he reaches the landing.
The door stands ominously in front of him, more imposing than it has any right to be, and he has to take a minute just to breathe. There’s no doorbell so he ends up knocking, three quick raps of his knuckles, before stepping back. He’s not quite sure if he’s going to be greeted with a punch but he feels it might be best to be prepared for anything.
He hears movement from within, then the rattle of a metal chain being unbolted, before finally the door opens.
And immediately shuts again.
Aaron had barely caught a glimpse of Robert before he was met with plain, solid wood again, and he stands for a moment just taking in the reaction before biting down hard on his tongue.
“Robert, just let me in,” he says through the door, and when he gets no response, adds: “Please,” as if that’s somehow going to be the magic word. It isn’t, and eventually Aaron has no option but to resort to good old-fashioned brute strength. The sole of his boot connects hard with the door and the resulting crack is like a bolt of lightning through the still air. Aaron hears Robert swear audibly from inside and steps back just before the door is yanked open again.
“What the Hell do you think you’re playing at?” he yells, then glances down at Aaron’s hand for a second before coming up to meet his gaze. It take Aaron longer than it should to realise what he’d been looking for.
A gun.
“Can I come in?” he asks as sweetly as he’s able, already taking a few steps forwards. He’s damned well getting Robert to listen even if he has to tie him to a chair. He’s not just going to give up.
He makes it all the way into the rather spacious hallway before Robert grinds out: “I don’t want to speak to you.”
“You don’t have to, you just have to listen,” Aaron counters, turning to face him finally. Robert’s got his arms folded across his chest and he’s dressed in a soft white t-shirt and grey sweatpants. Aaron’s eyes sweep over him in a matter of seconds but the mental image leaves a lasting imprint. I’m going to dream about him tonight, he thinks with more than a little relish.
“Gonna to try and shoot me again?” Robert asks instantly, gaze flicking to the waistband of Aaron’s jeans, and he flinches away from the clinical stare.
“I was never going to,” he admits, looking Robert directly in the eye because he wants him to know that it’s the truth. He’d never have pulled the trigger.
“I don’t believe you,” Robert says, but the words waver with uncertainty and Aaron sees his chance. He’s a marksman after all, he knows exactly when to take his shot. He steps forward, once, twice, gets so close to Robert he can smell his aftershave.
“I was supposed to shoot you, but I couldn’t do it. Once I met you… once I got to know you… how could I kill you when — ” His throat tightens around the words and Robert rocks back on his heels, one brow arched arrogantly.
“When?”
It’s enough to have his skin itching, hot with frustration, and he can’t hold his tongue before he bursts out with: “I’m falling for you, you pillock!” It’s not quite as romantic as he’d envisaged in his head but it does get the message across going by Robert’s stunned expression. Aaron uses the opportunity to continue before he’s thrown out.
“I have been since the day we met. And this afternoon… Robert, what I said was true. I go after people who really do deserve what’s coming to them. I only ever get the ones who’ve hurt others, who need putting down. It was a mistake, me ending up with you.” He chances a glance and their eyes meet for a split second before Aaron has to drop his, cheeks flushing. “I’m glad, though. I’m glad I met you.”
“Am I supposed to fall into your arms now?” Robert asks, but there’s no bite to the words, more incredulity. “You took a gun with you, Aaron. There was at least a part of you that intended on using it.”
He has no defence for that and he doesn’t want to lie. Everything that’s happened between them so far has been built on dishonesty, and if he wants to prove himself, he’s going to have to bite the bullet… no pun intended.
“You’re right. I was,” he admits quietly, and tries desperately to ignore Robert’s soft intake of breath. “I told myself that there had to be a reason why I was given your file. You had to be the kind of sick bastard that I usually deal with because if you weren’t then… then I was going to have an innocent man’s blood on my hands. It wasn’t until you started talking about Lawrence that I realised what was going on. I knew I couldn’t shoot you after that.”
Robert runs a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “I can’t prove he hired you to kill me, can I?”
“There’s no paper trail. It’s not like we pay income tax or anything. It’s all cash-in-hand, done in dark alleys with no CCTV. You won’t find any proof on him.”
“So I let it go? What he wanted to do?”
“No, you get even,” Aaron says immediately, spurred on by the fact that Robert’s still talking to him, that he hasn’t been banished yet. “You destroy the thing he cares about most - his business. Set up your own, just like you said you would, and take him down.”
Robert laughs but his brows are furrowed, like he’s in pain. “Aaron, that was all bluff. I don’t have it in me — ”
“Yes, you do,” Aaron cuts him off, not wanting to hear it. “You said it yourself, he should have retired already. He’s getting old and he won’t be able to keep up. The clients will see that, and when they do, you’ll be laughing all the way to the bank. Trust me.”
They regard each other, strangers still despite everything that’s happened. “Trust the man who wanted me dead?” Robert asks, calmer than he has been so far, and it gives Aaron hope.
“I never wanted you dead,” he says, makes the words count by meeting Robert’s gaze without wavering.
“But you were going to kill me.”
Aaron shakes his head. “Not once I realised how good you were. I’d never have pulled that trigger, Robert. Never.”
Robert huffs a sigh, places a hand over his eyes and groans. “This is… I still can’t believe it. I don’t know how to get past this — ”
“I get that, and if you want me to walk away then I will. But — ” he says, closing the distance now and somehow finding it in him to reach out and grasp Robert’s hand, praying he won’t pull away, “we can work this out, if we give it time. I want to work this out. I want you.”
His vision blurs for a moment, the ache in his chest so strong now that he feels sick with it. And Robert must see something as well because he tugs at Aaron’s hand, pulls him closer so their chests are almost touching.
“Aaron…” he breathes, sways forwards they’re two magnetic forces, drawn together despite the obstacles in their path. The air is so close around them, thick and charged, the calm before the storm, and Aaron tilts his face upwards, the anticipation agonising.
“I want you so much,” he breathes, and it’s like the final thread snapping.
Their lips brush together and a shiver of heat ripples down Aaron’s spine. He opens his mouth instinctively, feels Robert’s breath ghosting over him, and then the barest hint of tongue slips inside. He groans, winds his arms around Robert’s neck just as Robert wraps his around Aaron’s waist, almost lifting him off the floor. They kiss like they’ve been drowning and this is their first gulp of fresh air. It’s relief and desperation and just a tinge of fear, pushing them onwards at a terrifying rate. And it feels good. Better than anything Aaron’s felt before, because this shouldn’t be happening. He can’t believe Robert’s even allowing this, but he’ll take it, won’t ask questions even if he’s desperate to know how long this can last.
For now he’s more than happy to stay entwined like this, sharing the same breath, too giddy to care about anything more than the next kiss, the next smile, the next moment.
As long as they share it together, Aaron knows he’ll be just fine.