Tate stood in front of the hospital, his stomach sinking as he considered what he would say. He didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want to have to see Ray at all.

But what choice did he have?

Annette and Balthazar had returned from the prison without much more information than they’d had before. Jesse had told them all that the lawyer hadn’t learned anything more. Everyone was waiting for the ‘victim’s statement’.

Tate had told everyone he was going to sleep. Instead, he’d called all the hospitals in the area until he found Ray. The nurse had told him Ray still hadn’t regained consciousness, but she’d take his name and call him back if he did and said he wanted to see Tate.

Then a fucking miracle happened. She called Tate less than an hour later, all excited. She’d been talking to Ray—which was good for people in comas—and Ray woke up the second he heard Tate’s name. He wanted to see Tate right away.

Slipping out of the hotel without being seen by security had been tricky, but he’d gotten lucky. Skull was with Balthazar and Annette, and Josh had been sent up to keep an eye on Brave who’d apparently destroyed the TV in his room. Jesse was working with Reese to do damage control for the bands.

And no one was expecting Tate to go anywhere.

He forced himself to start moving. To smile at a pretty nurse with full lips when he shot Tate an appreciative look. To take the elevator to the sixth floor and walk down the hallways until he reached room number 667. One number off and it would have been totally fitting.

His throat tightened as he took those final steps into Ray’s room.

Ray looked up from the red Jell-O he was eating. “Tate.” He smiled. “Thanks for coming. It’s nice to see you.”

Tate kept the smile on his face as the nurse excused herself. Let it drop the second the door closed. “Cut the shit. What do you want?”

“To see my old friend, what else?” Ray licked the spoon, then set it aside. “Sit with me. I’m in a lot of pain. The nurse said a detective or something is coming to see me. I’m hoping I’ll be strong enough to talk to him.”

A chill ran down Tate’s spine. Whatever Ray said could either get Connor locked up for years, or free him. He moved to sit in the chair the nurse had left by the bed. “You look a little roughed up, but not too bad.”

“I don’t know. I mean, it could be that I was jealous and started the fight. I said shit to piss off the man I thought took you from me. I hit him first.” Ray cocked his head. “Or maybe I was just walking down the street when two thugs attacked me. One said he would kill me and started hitting me. He wrapped his hands around my neck. I thought I was going to die.” He let out a fake sob. Then smirked. “I know, I know, I need to work on my performance. But I don’t think it will take much to convince them a bunch of American punks went nuts and attacked a stranger.”

No, it probably wouldn’t. Hell, the police were leaning in that direction already. Ray’s first story might not be enough to convince them to drop the charges, but should at least get them reduced. His second one would condemn Connor for sure.

“What do I have to do to get you to tell them you started it?” Tate licked his lips, trying not to gag as he put his hand on Ray’s sheet-covered thigh. “You’re in no shape to fuck me, but I could suck you off.”

“That’s cute, Tate.” Ray let out a cold laugh. “Do you think I’ll risk getting charged myself for a fucking blowjob?”

“Hey, I give fucking amazing blowjobs.” Tate scowled when Ray laughed again. “Then what?”

“I told you what I want.” Ray relaxed against the pillows. “You.”

“For how long? Why the fuck would I do anything for you once Connor’s free?” All right, maybe he shouldn’t have said that, but Ray wasn’t stupid. He’d have thought of that already. “This is working out too perfectly for you. You set Connor up, didn’t you?”

Ray shrugged. “It wouldn’t have mattered which one it was. North, Connor, hell, any one of your buddies would have come after me, and you’d do anything for your friends.”

“How. Long?”

“Until I’m bored of you. And no, I’m not worried about you changing your mind.” Ray let out a contented sigh and closed his eyes. “I had a friend record the whole thing. If you try to back out, I’ll release the video online. I could do it in a month, or a year. Won’t matter. The fans will see what a crazy fucker Connor is. And the police will investigate, no matter whether he’s here or back home.”

Tate’s lips parted. He shook his head. No, this couldn’t be happening. If Ray had a damn video of Connor beating the shit out of him, it would be an open and closed case. Which meant Tate had to say yes.

But what if Ray was lying?

“You’re full of shit. You’re telling me neither Connor or North saw this ‘friend’ of yours?”

“After I told them I fucked you when you were fifteen? No, I don’t think they saw much of anything.” Ray’s lips slid into a cold smile. “You’re adorable now. Them picturing you as a sweet kid? That broke them both. Kinda sad. I mean, you were perfectly fuckable at that age, but so needy and pathetic. Now you’re a grown man. More my type.”

How damaged had Tate been back then to have ever wanted this man? He’d been so fucking high he barely remembered anything, but he did remember looking up to Ray. Feeling special whenever Ray smiled at him, or held him.

Now, everything about the man left him feeling nothing but disgust.

“I need to see the video.” Tate hoped Ray would look away. Give him some proof he was lying.

Instead, he picked up his phone, tapped the screen, and held the phone out in front of Tate. Tears blinded Tate as he heard Ray taunting Connor. As Connor threw the first punch. As Ray laughed, enraging Connor even more. Then, Connor wrapped his hands around Ray’s neck. There was no doubt that Connor had been ready to kill him.

“I’ll remove the sound, of course.” Ray shrugged. “No need to give a lawyer a chance to claim temporary insanity or some stupid shit like that.”

Tate nodded, completely numb. Made sense. Ray didn’t want to implicate himself.

“Hey, cheer up. I’m not completely heartless. Once you’re healed, you can go back on tour with your band. I’ll be proud to tell everyone my boyfriend is a famous drummer.” He reached out, cupping Tate’s cheek. “But you’ll visit often, won’t you?”

Ray’s touch made his skin crawl, but he didn’t pull away. He couldn’t give Ray any reason to release that video.

“I will.” Tate bowed his head, tears filling his uncovered eye, blinding him. “Just…just don’t tell the cops…”

“Hush. I’ll make everything better.” Ray stroked his hair. “Now come give me a kiss and tell me how happy you are that I’m doing better.”

It took all Tate’s strength not to wrap his hands around Ray’s neck and kill him himself. His stomach turned as he brought his lips to Ray’s. He forced himself to smile, like he had when he’d walked through that door.

Only this time it hurt. And he didn’t let the smile slip.

“I’m happy you’re doing better. Really.” Tears trailed down his cheek. “How soon until you get out?”

“A few days if I continue to show improvement. And I know something that will help.” Ray smeared his fingers through Tate’s tears, sliding his fingers over Tate’s lips. “In my jacket, there are some pills. They used to be your favorite. How about you go get us each one?”

“Ray, I can’t—” Tate pressed his lips shut when Ray tapped his fingers on his phone. He went to the jacket and got the pills, handing both to Ray. “They really mess with me. Please don’t force me to take—”

“I’m trying to be nice and you’re rejecting my gift?” Ray frowned. He took Tate’s good hand and pressed both pills into his palm. “I just realized these will show up on my blood tests, and that would be bad. We wouldn’t want the police to doubt my statement.”

“Please…”

Ray’s eyes narrowed. “Take them. I need to know you’re serious about this. And you’re much more pleasant when you’re feeling good.” He grabbed Tate’s wrist when he hesitated. “I’ll call my nurse and tell her you’re trying to influence my statement. I can make things so much worse, Tate. Don’t fucking push me.”

Tate took the pills, using the glass of water on Ray’s table to wash them down.

“That’s my boy.” Ray ran his fingers through Tate’s hair. He continued petting Tate, speaking softly as the drugs had Tate relaxing against the side of the bed, not wanting to pull away anymore. “I think you forgot how good you had it. How nice it felt to just let go. But you’re starting to remember, aren’t you?”

Letting his eye drift shut, Tate nodded. He couldn’t remember much of anything, but that sounded about right.

“You be good for me and I’ll treat you right.” Ray curved his hand under Tate’s chin. “Look at that. You don’t hate me now, do you?”

“No. Was just mad.” Tate fought to keep his head from slumping to the side. Laughed as the chair tried to slip out from under him. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna fall.”

Ray reached out, pulling Tate to his feet. “Come lie down with me. Rest for a bit.”

“Okay.” Tate climbed on the bed as Ray shifted to the edge. This had to be the best bed in the world. His broken arm was at an awkward angle, but he couldn’t feel it. “Oh, that’s much better.”

“Yes, it is.” Ray pressed against him, his hand moving down Tate’s stomach. “I’m feeling so much better. Isn’t that great?”

Tate rested his head on the pillow. He wasn’t sure it was great, but he didn’t care anymore. He hadn’t been this relaxed in forever. He kept his eyes shut as Ray undid his jeans. Released a muffled moan as Ray stroked him.

There was some pain. Then, nothing. Quiet in his head.

No fear. No worries.

Just nothing.