Page 71 of Hold On

“Especially if you’re holding a sharp knife,” Ren added.

Was that the right reaction? To make light of it? Maybe it was. Ren hadn’t let go of his hand. Dominic exhaled. “No flounce?”

“Told you that’s not my style.” Ren cleared his throat. “So… My turn. This is not something I should be telling you. I’d decided I couldn’t but you’ve trusted me and I’m going to trust you. I was an undercover cop for the Metropolitan Police.”

Dominic didn’t try to hide his shock.

“Not was. I still am. Technically. I’m on sick leave. Probably not going to work undercover again. Possibly not going to work as a cop again. I haven’t decided. Nor has it been decided for me, but it might be. Especially if I fail the psych evaluation. And I might.” He groaned. “Did that make any sense?”

“How do I flounce?”

Ren chuckled. “I really shouldn’t have told you any of that. People don’t stay undercover for long if they blab about what they’re doing. My parents and Will were…partially aware. I told them I was involved in an operation that meant I had to stay out of contact for a while.”

Dominic stared at him wide-eyed.

“It all went wrong. I let myself get drawn into a…situation that I should have thought twice about. More than twice. I thought I was doing the right thing in crossing that particular line, that it was a difficult means to a worthwhile end. I still do think that. Sort of. Only because I’m still alive. Obviously had I known what was going to happen, I’d have done something different. Though I’m not sure what. Sometimes choices that you think you’re making are actually made for you.”

“They tried to kill you.”

“They think they have killed me.”

“Was that when you were…?”

“Raped?” Ren nodded.

“And the police might ask you to leave for good? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I don’t know. Probably not but…” He shrugged.

“How did you get to work undercover?”

“I was asked and I liked the idea of it. I ticked two major boxes for the operation. I could fly and I spoke Georgian, thanks to my Georgian mother. Levan’s pilot was no longer around… I was put forward for the job and I got it. Not sure what my boss would have done if I hadn’t. I realised why else I’d been picked when I met Levan. My gaydar pinged. Not that my boss would have ever admitted that was a reason for picking me. He couldn’t have known that I was Levan’s type.” Ren ground his teeth. “I’m trying to give my boss the benefit of the doubt. I mean policemen who can fly planes and speak Georgian aren’t falling out of trees.

“Anyway, I joined Levan’s team. I fit in okay. They had no idea I could understand what they were saying. I fended off Levan’s advances for a while but it was like a game of cat and mouse and we both played it. I fed back information on who Levan was meeting and where, and the content of any conversation I overheard. Communication was tricky but I managed. Drugs are Levan’s main trade but he’d do anything for the right price. The Met was due to take the whole operation down one night. It was a success in one way because the drugs and some minor players were seized, but Levan and several others avoided capture—just—and he decided to go abroad. I flew him to Georgia and he asked me to stay a couple of days because he was buying a villa in Spain and wanted me to take him there.”

“Were the Met still interested in him once he was out of the country?”

“Yes, because the bulk of his operation was still in the UK, and parts were still functioning, but there are limits to what the British police can do overseas. My boss still thought there was a way to get Levan. I wasn’t supposed to sleep with the enemy but that’s what I did. I wasn’t told to do it. I wasn’t told not to. No possibility of touching him inside Georgia, but in Spain? Yeah, maybe. But there was one delay after another. The villa wasn’t ready. The seller got awkward. Then the pool needed work. The lawyers were messing around. And he kept fucking me.”

Ren stared down at his hands. “At first it wasn’t a hardship, as long as I ignored that he was a criminal, and that he’d killed people—”

He stopped, as if he were suddenly aware of what he was saying.

“Yeah. I’m a criminal. I’ve killed people. You have a type.” Dominic gave a quiet chuckle.

“I was doing my job. He wasn’t my type. You are. Levan preyed on those who deserved better…He’s evil. But I had no idea what he was really like and quite what I’d got myself into. I kept thinkingone more weekand somehow, I kept persuading myself to keep going, that I’d find some way to take him down. My boss was careful not to encourage me but I knew what he wanted. The Met have been in trouble over undercover officers taking things too far, but it wasn’t as if I was going to get Levan pregnant. I never fucked him anyway.” Ren winced.

“When did he start hurting you?”

Ren shuffled his feet in the dirt under the bench. “He was always rough. No lube. Slapping me around. Dirty talk. Stuff like that. Holding me down. Hands on my neck. Like he was angry he was gay.”

“I know the type.”

Ren glanced at him.

“In prison, there was either a hatred of guys who were gay, or if they were young and good-looking, they were treated like princesses. Sex and power. That was all. The men who went for them wanted to imagine they were fucking a woman. My guess is most of those guys weren’t gay at all.”

“Not even the one who attacked you?”

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