“Shit.”Nikolas reluctantly buttoned him up again then produced his pack of cigarettes.“I thought this would be a good way for us to always leave the group when we needed to, so I bought some yesterday.”
“The pack’s half empty.”
“Ack.Convincing cover, Benjamin, or did I teach you nothing?Come, smoke one so you smell of smoke when we return.”
“No.You can just breathe the crap all over me.”
Nikolas smirked, taking a long drag.“I don’t recall you finding the smell of smoke so repellent.”
Ben blinked and considered him through lowered lids.Nikolas’s knees almost went weak.“No, I like you well enough, smoke or not.Come here.”He kissed Nikolas slowly and thoroughly, clearly relishing the familiar smell and taste of the smoke.With a reluctant curse, he pulled away.“So, guards armed with BB guns?”
“Two men, amateurs, bigging themselves up with gangster suits.But it seems incongruous, no?”
“They do have celebrities come on this course.Maybe there’s one in the other group?”
“Hmm, maybe.But why stop me going to the kitchens?Anyway, when we return, you go to dinner and tell teacher I fell over in the play—”
“Be serious, Nik, remember Squeezy.”
“Oh, trust me, I’ve been remembering your friend all day.Tell the doctor I went to ask about having a special diet provided.I’m a florist, after all.”
Ben chuckled at his glum look.“I liked your blood splatters.”
Nikolas cheered up.“Your winged man was me.”
“I know.My rising angel.”
“Iamrising, now that you’ve mentioned it…”
“No!”Ben dodged, plucking Nikolas’s cigarette from his lips.“Guess what I’m going to say?”
Nikolas narrowed his eyes.“You’re starving?”
Ben grinned.“Who needs three thousand pounds of counselling?”
Nikolas followed him out, shaking his head.“That’s what I’ve been saying all day!”
* * *
They were intercepted before they could split up for their respective tasks.Two different men, this time in black suits, were coming through the arch from the walled garden.When they spotted Nikolas and Ben they smiled politely and waited for them, hands in a relaxed fold, dark glasses obscuring their eyes.Nikolas gave them a broad grin, which didn’t seem to impress them much.He took a long, thoughtful drag on his cigarette and dropped the butt on the ground between their minders as they returned through the arch.
Dinner was a buffet, and all twenty men were back in the one room, encouraged to mingle.Almost everyone seemed more than happy to mingle with Ben, and Nikolas heard his look-alike story many times.
They’d both noticed the food had been pre-laid before they were allowed into the room.No staff visible.Nikolas was getting very bored of things now.He wanted nothing more than to sink into a comfortable bed with Ben, stop pretending to be gay, and release some tension deep inside Ben’s arse.To do this, however, he needed to at least forward his mission and ask someone, anyone, about Michael—unless he could find the idiot, he was condemned to stay on the course the whole week in order to then endure another three weeks of something.He was tempted to approach the goons in black and ask them.
Finally dinner was over.They were released to return to their rooms.Nikolas was thinking about the monitor and various ways to disable it when he entered the small, spartan space.It was even bleaker now.His bag was missing.He’d left it on the bed.He thought for a moment it had been unpacked—as it would be in the hotels he usually stayed in—but there was nothing in the closet.He wasn’t concerned about his clothes, but he’d now lost his phone.It was only a simple pay-as-you-go bought to bring on this course, as was Ben’s, but still…
He clenched his jaw and turned to go and remonstrate with the good doctor, only to find the door had been locked.From the outside.
* * *
Chapter Eight
Nikolas decided Nigel wouldn’t tolerate being locked in either.He kicked the door.Hard.They made houses of stern stuff in Victorian days and neither the lock nor the door gave, despite the ferocity of his attack.He was only wearing loafers, so couldn’t do the damage he’d have done in boots.The window was a sash style, which didn’t open.It had been nailed down many years ago if the layer upon layer of old paint over the nail heads was anything to go by.He could break the glass, of course, but that seemed a little extreme and, besides, he was on the third floor.His options were limited.
The lights went out.
Before his eyes had adjusted and he’d had a chance to find his lighter, he heard the door open.He started to speak, but something was dragged over his head.
