Not that he remembered his dreams when he finally woke up at midday, and he took that to be a good thing. Sleeping beside Lenny every night had driven away some of his demons, but they often came back when he was alone—when they sensed weakness in the void Lenny had left behind. Not today, though. Today, Nero stepped into the shower with a smile, and his mind a long way from the treacherous path he’d taken to get to a place where the mere thought of a man had him grinning like a pig in shit.
Brutal banging on the front door broke into his Lenny-themed daze. Nero frowned and peered around the shower curtain, like he imagined he could see through walls. Idiot. He waited a moment to see if whichever fucktard it was from downstairs took the hint, but the banging continued until he got to the door, cursing and a towel around his waist. “What the—”
Cass burst into the flat, eyes wild. “Have the old bill been here?”
Nero flinched. “What?”
“Fuck, Nero, we’ve been calling and calling you, and the bar downstairs. The coppers. Did they find you?”
“Find me? Why would they be looking for me?”
“Tom sent them. Nero, something’s happened to Lenny. I don’t know what, or where, just that the police found Tom at the office and sent him to the Royal Free Hospital. His phone cut out halfway through his message, but he said he’d sent the coppers here to find you.”
Nero’s heart stopped. He shot back to the bedroom and wrenched his phone free from the charger. Blood roaring in his ears, he swiped at the screen and called Lenny, even as Cass followed him into the bedroom and told him there was no point.
“It’s dead, mate, and he don’t have voice mail, does he?” Cass said.
A legacy of Lenny’s attempt to disappear. Fuck. Nero fought the urge to hurl his phone at the wall. “What about Jake? Have you called him?”
“Course I have. He said Lenny left this morning to come back to you, so whatever’s gone down happened between here and there.”
“Shit.” Nero grabbed his jeans from the floor and yanked them up his legs. “Tom’s phone’s dead too?”
“Yup. He just said to find you and get you to the hospital. I’m so fucking sorry, mate. I don’t know anything else.”
Nero whirled around the room, searching for a T-shirt. “It’s that fucking bloke, I know it is.”
Cass’s silence spoke volumes. Nero flew at him. “What are you not telling me?”
“Whoa.” Cass coughed as his back hit the wall, driving the breath from his lungs. “Nero, take it easy. You ain’t no good to anyone if you lose your shit.”
“Tell me.”
Cass winced. “I’m trying. Let me go so I can breathe, will ya?”
Nero released Cass, breathing hard enough for the both of them. “I can see in your eyes it ain’t good.”
“Before he got cut off, Tom said that Gareth Harvey got bail a week ago. The coppers were supposed to warn Lenny, but it slipped through the net. And . . .”
“Cass.”
“They lost track of him. He’s been AWOL for three days.”
Gareth Harvey. Finally, a name, but it meant nothing as Nero’s legs gave way. He sank onto the bed beside him and pressed his fists against his eyes, trying to contain his worst nightmare as it galloped off, taking with it every good dream he’d ever had. “He’s got him, hasn’t he? He’s fucking got him.”
“We don’t know that.” Cass dropped down in front of Nero, his hands on Nero’s knees. “The two things might not be connected. Tom didn’t say they were.”
“But he got cut off.”
“Yes, but . . .” Cass’s voice fell away.
Nero stared hard at him, searching for something, anything to ground him, but he found nothing but concern and worry that seemed to have rendered him immobile.
“Nero.” Cass grasped Nero’s shoulders and shook him slightly. “Listen to me, we don’t know nothing for certain. Lenny coulda tripped on the Tube and got himself a little bump like Jake did last year, or punched a copper . . . anything. We don’t know shit until we get to that hospital, so let’s go.”
Cass’s attempt at reassurance fell flat, but two words punctured the panicked haze Nero was drowning in: let’s go.
He lurched up and grabbed a T-shirt, then followed Cass to the front door, pausing only long enough to stamp into his shoes. Outside, they dashed across the street to where Cass’s car was parked on a double yellow line. A parking warden was filling out a ticket. Cass blew past her and jumped in the car, peeling away as she pointed her camera at his number plate.
