What he saw horrified him. Zac on the hospital bed, an IV jammed in his hand and tubes in his nose. It was hard to see where the pillow ended and his deathly white face began. Only his slightly blue lips stood out—them, and the massive bandage wrapped around his left wrist, grotesquely contrasting the delicate leather bracelet he still wore on his right.
Liam wanted to kiss those blue lips, stroke Zac’s hair, and whisper in his ear that he was safe now, that whatever happened, Liam would take care of it, take care of him, for as long as Zac let him, but with Jamie trembling in the seat beside him, Liam remained silent. This wasn’t about him. Besides, there was no guarantee Zac would even wake up, let alone accept his help.
“When did they say he’d wake up?”
The echo in Jamie’s shaky voice startled Liam. “Erm, the morning, I think? He’s had surgery, remember, as well as losing a lot of blood from the original injury.”
“I can’t handle this.” Jamie rubbed his eyes. “I thought he’d wake up when you came in.”
“Why’d you think that?”
Jamie shrugged. “He likes you.”
Liam’s heart twisted painfully. “I like him too.”
“I figured. You wouldn’t have come with me otherwise. Or given that copper what for.”
“I didn’t do that. She was only doing her job. All I asked her for was an explanation.”
Jamie grunted, reminding Liam that their views of the police were likely worlds apart. “Zac’s going to need you.”
“He’ll need us both,” Liam said absently, giving in to the urge to lay his hand on Zac’s cool forehead. “Recovering from any operation is rough. He’s going to be tired and in pain.” And likely fucking traumatised.
“He doesn’t need me. He’ll be better off without me.”
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Where do you think?” Jamie glared at Liam like he was the world’s biggest idiot. “They won’t stop coming for us until they get their money, or we’re both dead. I’ve gotta give myself up. I can’t let Zac live with my shit anymore.”
“Zac wouldn’t want you to let them kill you. Why don’t you just give back what you stole?”
“The gear?” Jamie snorted. “I shot most of it, then Zac chucked what I had left out of the window. Didn’t want it in his flat.”
Liam closed his eyes and tried to picture Zac flinging piles of heroin out of an open window. Perversely, the image didn’t come to him as easily as the one of him shooting up in Liam’s bathroom. “Why the hell did you nick it in the first place?”
“’Cause I needed it.”
The answer seemed obvious, but as Liam reached over Zac’s prone form and found his good hand, he felt like he’d missed something. “But you always need it, right? What made this so tempting?”
“My pimp kept fucking me over, sending me out to work all night, then keeping my money, and my shit. One day I saw Irvine, his guy, put a bag in the boot of his car. I knew what it was, so I took it. I—I thought I’d cut it and sell it. Make crap-loads of money and give it to Zac so he didn’t have to hook anymore. He didn’t like it after he met you. He never said, but I could tell. He wanted you.”
“He had me.” The words were said before Liam realised he’d spoken aloud. “He had me, Jamie, and he can have me again, if that’s what he wants.”
“I don’t think Zac’s ever had what he wants.”
Liam sighed. “And what do you want? I can give you the money to pay your debt, but I don’t reckon it will make your life any better. You’re shaking like a bloody leaf. You need a hit, don’t you?”
Jamie’s teeth chattered as he sucked in a clearly painful breath. “Don’t matter what I need.”
“Why not?”
“Because I fucked everything up. I’d have offed meself if Zac had died.”
Liam didn’t doubt it. He couldn’t quite get a handle on the relationship Jamie had with Zac, but it was obvious he cared for Zac a great deal, and if Liam knew anything, it was how it felt to have the person you cared about most snatched away.
An idea began to take shape in his fragmented mind. “I need to make some calls. Will you be okay by yourself for a bit?”
“No, but I won’t leave him, if that’s what you’re asking.”
