Chapter 5

FIVE

SARAJEVO, BOSNIA

Harry's outburst at Asher had earned him the silent treatment. For the plane trip from Ranong to Bangkok and then all the way to Sarajevo. Asher had barely said five words to him the whole time. He just stared at the tablet's password lock screen as if it was some enigmatic puzzle. Or a time bomb, like he didn't want to see what secrets the tablet held.

But he had played his part.

Smiling and charming with the airport staff and security, and even on the plane. Well, correction: Joshua Hill had been smiling and charming.

Asher had been petulant.

He was angry and scared, and Harry understood his reasons. But he didn't play these types of games.

They checked in at a hotel, awaiting Asher's contact to return his call. Harry put a call in for room service, enough food for both of them. He could worry about getting supplies later. It was late, it'd been a long fucking day, and Asher's silence was a cherry on top of a shit-tastic cake.

Harry dumped his bag on the floor and fell onto the bed. He closed his eyes and sighed, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Asher still hadn't spoken to him, and Harry wasn't in the mood for his childish bullshit.

Asher curled himself up on the sofa and stared at the tablet screen, the cursor blinking in the password. He hadn't attempted to enter anything yet, still trying to think what the passcode might be.

It was going to lock them out, and they'd need to track down some tech whiz to access it. Or a teenager.

"We can find someone who can get us access to it," Harry said, nodding to the tablet.

Not that it mattered, because Asher didn't look at him to see it.

Room service delivered their tray of food, and Harry took the lids off. It was burgers and fries, nothing extraordinary, but he needed food, a hot shower, and sleep. "Eat something," Harry said, too tired to fight or argue. "Or don't."

Harry was halfway through his burger before Asher came over. He sat at the table, still sulking, and shoved some fries into his mouth. "You yelled at me," he said.

Harry shot him a disbelieving look. "I did not yell."

"You told me to fucking stop it."

"Because you needed to be told."

"You said?—"

"I said what needed saying," Harry snapped. "And I meant every word. We need to be smarter, Asher. We've been out of this world for too long, and they are three days ahead of us. We have no intel, no backup, and no fucking clue what we're looking for. We can't afford the slightest misstep. And I know you're angry and scared. I get that. And you want to unleash hell on whoever did this, and babe, I will be right by your side. But we can't do this blindly, because that's when we make mistakes. We need to be smarter, both of us, because if something were to happen to you..." Harry shook his head. "I can't... I won't survive it, Asher."

Asher's eyes met his, sadness and fear finding their mark, because god, how it hurt Harry to see that.

"You're right," he whispered. "I'm sorry. Thank you. I just... Yunho's the only family I have... had. He's the only family I had for the longest time. Until I met you. And now I have you, and I'm so fucking grateful. But..." He shook his head, tears in his eyes. "Yunho saved my life, countless times. I owe him this. I owe him everything."

"I know."

"And I lost my head. I wasn't thinking straight. You were right."

Harry finally smiled. "I usually am."

"Don't push your luck."

Harry snorted and nodded to Asher's burger. "Eat up. I want to have a hot shower and go to bed."

Asher pouted again. "Is that an invitation?"

Harry couldn't help it. He smiled and nodded at Asher's food. "Be a good boy and eat, and I'll think about giving you a reward."

That earned him a scowl. "Half the burger and my reward better be a thorough fucking."

"Deal." Harry smiled as he bit into his burger. It was probably what Asher needed. What they both needed, if Harry was being honest.

It'd been a tense and emotional few days, and Harry knew Asher always felt out of sorts when he wasn't in control.

And this situation they'd found themselves in? They had zero control.

They were three days behind, had no clue if they were even on the right track, and were effectively on the run again.

Someone else was calling the shots, and Asher was stressed and worried. Harry always did know how to bring Asher's mind back into focus. Make him forget all the excess bullshit and strip away the world until all that remained was one single focus.

The pain and pleasure of a thorough fucking.

Hmm.

Maybe Harry needed it more than Asher.

He watched Asher take a bite or two, though it was clear he had no appetite. He was too tired, too stressed, too worried.

He needs to let it all go.

"Hm," Harry began. "Remember when we were in Algeria."

Asher's gaze cut to his, and he nodded. "Which part? We did a lot in Algeria."

That was true.

"Remember when you wanted me to fight and fuck you? You wanted it violent and rough."

Asher raised one eyebrow and licked the corner of his mouth, a smile forming. "I remember. You didn't really want to do it either. The decent human in you kept warring with the animal side." He smirked then. "The animal won."

"No. You won. You got what you wanted. What you needed. "

The fire in his eyes ignited. "And so did you."

"I did."

His nostrils flared. "Why are you remembering that now?"

They'd fucked a thousand times since then, and Harry had loved it every single time. The slow tender moments, the lovemaking, the intimacy.

But tonight they needed something else.

"Do you want me to fight you, Harry?" Asher asked. "Is that why you're bringing it up now?"

Harry grinned at him. "I don't want to fight you. I want to fuck you. It won't be gentle, and I won't care if you try to stop me, try to hurt me. The harder you fight me, the harder I'll fuck you."

Asher let out a rush of air, and he ran his tongue over his teeth when he grinned. "Do not make promises you can't keep, Harry," he whispered.

"Tell me now if you don't want it," he breathed.

Asher kept his eyes locked on Harry's, but his hand went to the knife on his plate. Fingers curled around the handle like a weapon, and for a beat, neither of them moved.

Until Asher leapt to his feet and lunged at Harry with the knife. Harry gripped his wrist and holding it high, pushed him backwards until he hit the wall. Asher clawed at Harry's neck, his chest, bringing his knee up, wrestling and pushing.

Fighting.

Harry gripped his other wrist and held him against the wall, hard. He shook Asher's wrist until he finally let go of the knife. But then Asher tried to use his legs as leverage. He kicked and struggled, all while trying to wrestle and wriggle free .

Harry wasn't having it.

He dragged Asher over to the bed and shoved him down, hard. Asher tried to fight him, arms flailing and fists flying, growling and grunting. "Is that the best you can do," Asher bit out. "Fucking weak."

He tried to kick at Harry, connected a few times, and it only made Harry fight harder to subdue him.

He held both Asher's wrists and pinned them to the mattress. Asher tried to wrestle out of the hold, using his legs and hips. So, using Asher's momentum, Harry flipped him over onto his stomach, using his forearm across Asher's shoulders to hold him down.

Harry ground his cock against Asher's ass and it made Asher groan. He was panting, the fight in him gone so Harry held Asher's head, pushing his face into the mattress. "Stay the fuck there," he growled.

Harry got off the bed to collect the lube, but as soon as he had it, Asher was off the bed and lunging at him again. He swung his arm, collecting Harry across the chin and Harry had to counter, driving his shoulder into Asher and tackling him onto the bed again.

He held him down like he meant it this time. They were going to have bruises tomorrow.

"Who's weak now?" Harry hissed, forcing Asher's face into the mattress. He pulled Asher's leg out and drove his erection against Asher's ass. "You're gonna fucking get it now," Harry growled. "As hard as I can give it."

He gave the back of Asher's head a good shove and then, gripping his jeans, ripped them down over his ass. He wasn't gentle, and he wasn't sorry.

With his ass exposed, Asher tried to push up, tried to turn around, but Harry shoved his hand into Asher's back and held him down .

"You're not going anywhere," Harry bit out. He snatched up the lube and tried to squirt it down Asher's crack.

"Want you raw," Asher snapped. "Make it hurt."

Harry undid the fly of his jeans and pulled his cock out. "It's gonna hurt enough," he said, holding Asher down by his shoulders and driving his cock into him.

Asher cried out into the bedding, his hands reaching out blindly before gripping the covers.

Harry pushed all the way in.

Not gentle.

Not sorry.

"This is what you need," Harry ground out. His cock inside him to the hilt, he held him still, and Asher cried out, trying to pull away, trying to turn his hips, to escape, to lessen the pain.

Harry gripped Asher's hip and held him right fucking there. "You'll fucking take it," he said, pulling out a little only to slam back in again. "You'll take every inch of me, and you'll take every fucking drop I give you."

Asher moaned, the fight in him easing away; the tension leaving his body with every thrust, every slam of Harry's hips.

With Asher's jeans still around his thighs, his tight ass was exquisite. The pleasure so intense, so consuming. Harry couldn't stop, even if he'd wanted to. He drove into him, over and over, ecstasy building higher and higher, his cock so impossibly hard. He drove up into him until he tumbled over the edge.

Pleasure exploded behind his eyes, down his spine, detonating pure bliss. He came, burying his load deep inside him .

Asher gasped as he took it. Harry groaned with every pulse, finally collapsing on top of him.

The room spun, his vision skewed, and the only sound was their laboured breathing. Harry kissed the back of Asher's neck, unable to move, unable to think.

"Jesus," Harry mumbled.

"Don't think for one second you're done yet," Asher said. He rolled his hips. "You'll be done when I say you're done."

Harry snorted. "Is that so?" He wasn't feeling like fighting right now... He was far too boneless.

Asher squirmed underneath him, squeezing Harry's sensitive cock. "Ah," Harry hissed.

"Finish what you started," Asher bit out, trying to move from underneath him, still trying to fight him.

Harry pulled out, making Asher cry out again. He yanked Asher's jeans down some more and flipped him onto his back, then folded his legs up to his chest. Harry sank his cock back into him and held his hand over Asher's throat.

"I'll finish what I started when I fucking want," Harry rasped.

Keeping his hand on Asher's throat, he gripped his cock with his other hand and began to stroke him.

Asher's eyes rolled shut, his face going red as Harry choked him a little. He didn't need to come again, but his cock was still half-hard and it felt soooo good to be buried inside him.

And apparently Asher wanted Harry's dick in his ass when he came tonight. Harry was only too happy to oblige. He held Asher down by his throat, buried his cock in his ass, and jerked him off until he came with a strangled cry .

Harry tightened his grip on Asher's neck as his orgasm rolled through him. Asher's eyes rolled back, his cock spilling ropes of come across his stomach and over Harry's hand.

He convulsed and trembled for the longest time until he sagged, and only then did Harry lessen the hold on his throat.

Asher sucked back air, a lazy smile on his lips, his eyes slowly closing.

Serene.

Harry pulled out of him and rolled him onto his side, and Asher moaned contentedly. Harry cleaned him up, pulled the covers up and over him, and let him sleep.

A few minutes later, showered and feeling so much better, Harry crawled into bed, Asher quick to snuggle in. Harry kissed the side of his head. "Wanna have a shower?" he asked quietly.

"Hmmno," Asher mumbled. "Sleep."

"'Kay," Harry murmured. He rubbed Asher's back, holding him, kissing his head every now and then, waiting for sleep to come. Until he remembered something. "I can't believe you were going to stab me with a knife."

Asher chuckled quietly, almost asleep. But he never denied it, and he never apologised, and Harry couldn't even be mad. He'd asked for the old Asher back—the Asher who could turn night into day on a dime, who took kill shots without blinking—and that's exactly what he got.

Harry smiled into the dark and sighed, tightening his hold on Asher, and closed his eyes.

The morning light and the bathroom mirror showed Harry he had clawed nail marks down his neck and chest, a bruise on his thigh, and a mark on his forearm, courtesy of Asher and the fight-sex they'd had last night.

It didn't compare to the very large finger bruises Asher had on his throat.

Asher seemed pleased by all the war-wounds, looking at his neck from a few angles.

Harry, on the other hand, wasn't feeling so jovial about it.

"I could have crushed your hyoid bone," he mumbled.

Asher pointed to the base of his throat. "You know where the hyoid is," and then he showed the finger bruises higher up. "You weren't going to hurt me."

"The bruises on your neck say otherwise."

"They match the stripes down your neck and chest," Asher said, not fazed at all. "I'm actually disappointed that's all I got on you."

Harry smirked. "Your only hope of taking me out is from a safe distance, a good rifle scope, and no wind."

"Or a kitchen knife," Asher added with a blasé shrug.

"I'm starting to think I need to hide the cutlery."

Asher chuckled, then picking up his jacket, he slipped it on. "All right then, let's get this over with. Let me do the talking."

"If it's in Bosnian, I will be, yes."

Asher seemed to know this city with a familiarity that Harry wasn't certain he liked. It was a warm day, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky, and the taxi driver, ignoring Harry completely, spoke animatedly to Asher about god only knew what, all in Bosnian, of course. It made Asher smile.

And Harry didn't care much for that either.

He watched the city pass by instead. Beautiful, in the way most European cities were. Where history warred with the twenty-first century, where a now-peaceful life and the scars of war were a contrasting landscape.

Not too unlike himself, Harry thought.

Hidden scars that ran deep, that the last few years of peace and quiet did not do enough to heal.

He wondered if Asher felt that too.

He remembered Asher saying he'd come to Sarajevo years ago in search of his past and how he'd felt nothing.

He wondered what he felt now.

"You okay?" Asher asked quietly.

Harry hadn't realised Asher and the taxi driver had stopped talking. "Yeah, just thinking."

Asher studied him for a moment before he slid his hand over Harry's, giving it a quick squeeze. "We're almost there."

Their destination turned out to be an old warehouse in the industrial part of the city where the scars of war weren't so hidden. Some newer buildings replaced the older ones, which had been shelled beyond repair, alongside older buildings where some walls still bore the damage of a darker time. Pockmarks of bullet holes like acne, and some buildings without roofs or windows, no more than external half-walls like jagged exposed skeletons of mortar and memories of a terrible time.

There were signs of life though. Cars, music from somewhere, the sounds of machinery and construction.

After the taxi drove off, Asher nodded toward the building across the street. It looked like it may have been an electric power plant at some point. It was large, maybe half the block, with a dozen arch windows fronting the street. It looked maybe three storeys high with a fenced-off loading bay, and Harry assumed it was a depot of some sort.

"And this guy's name?" Harry asked as they walked toward the door.

"Daris," Asher said. He put his hand on the handle and gave Harry a smirk. "Play nice."

Hmm.

What was that supposed to mean?

Why wouldn't Harry play nice... unless... unless they had a history? As in a private history.

Harry stopped dead and cut Asher a laser-like stare. "Did you sleep with this guy?"

He might have asked that a little louder and a little angrier than he probably should have.

The two people in the foyer stopped and stared. They were behind a reception desk, a man and woman, he in his thirties, she in her late twenties. They wore white shirts with a logo on the breast that matched the large icon on the wall behind them.

Jak Logisi?ka.

Harry could figure that out. Logistics.

The man spoke in polite Bosnian, smiling but wary, and trying not to look twice at Harry. Asher replied, fluent and overly pleasant, but then he gave Harry a smile and for his sake, Harry assumed, he switched to English.

"We'd like to see Mr Daris Guli please," he said, still smiling.

"Do you have an appointment?" The woman asked, tapping away on her keyboard .

"No, we don't. We've just got into the city," Asher explained. "I'm a very old friend of Daris's. Just tell him Asher is here to see him."

The woman gave a nod and disappeared through a door behind the desk, and the man stood there watching them. He seemed astute, Harry allowed. He was neat and tidy and probably good at his job, but Harry could tell he was no threat.

Asher gave Harry a nudge. "Smile, you're scaring him," Asher whispered, his lips not moving.

Harry tried to smile, which made Asher have to cover his laughter with a cough. "You still haven't answered my question," Harry said, not giving one fuck who heard.

"I'll tell you later. We're not discussing that now," Asher said.

Which meant yes. Yes, they had a personal history. Yes, Asher had slept with this guy.

It'd been a while since Harry had wanted to kill someone he'd never met.

The door opened and the lady appeared. "This way, please," she said, holding the door for them. The woman turned, Asher following, Harry last, and he didn't like the fact he had no idea what they were walking into.

It was a warehouse, yes. Rows of heavy-duty metal shelving, a man on a forklift, another man with a clipboard, and two small pantech trucks at the loading dock, other staff with hi-vis vests, everyone busy working.

So it was an actual working depot, and not a front.

The woman showed them to an office. Decent sized, an arched window letting in sunlight, bookcases of folders, a long desk at the back wall, and a man, waiting.

He was maybe forty, wearing black pants, a black polo with the same logistics logo. Handsome enough, greying hair, olive skin, full lips with a cautious smile, and a hint of fear with the fondness in his dark eyes.

He stared at Asher for a long beat, then looked at Harry, wincing almost, before his gaze went back to Asher.

"If you were here to kill me, I'd be dead already," he said, his accent similar to Asher's.

Asher laughed and nodded to the window. "It's a big window. You'd make the shot too easy for me."

The man laughed then and gestured to his desk. "It's a beautiful window and I still can't have my desk in front of it because of you." Then his smile faded away to nothing. "It's been a long time, Asher."

Asher nodded and put his arms out, the man quickly collecting him in a fierce hug.

Oh yeah. They had a history, all right.

But from the way they both closed their eyes tight, a moment of pain brought to the surface for both of them, Harry realised that maybe they had more than just a history.

Harry cleared his throat and it made Asher pull back. He had the audacity to smile. "Harry, this is Daris. We were in the orphanage together."

Ah, shit.

Asher looked back at Daris. "And then... and then we went to camp together."

Jesus Christ.

Camp. Where Asher had told him boys were taken and trained, military style. Where, as a young boy, he ran drugs and information between camps. No older than eight or ten years of age, shot his first human target at fifteen.

The same camps where many boys never survived.

"Daris," Asher said. "This is my Harry. "

My Harry.

Suddenly Harry wasn't feeling so jealous.

Daris looked Harry up and down, approvingly, noting the scratches on Harry's neck. Then he lifted Asher's chin to see the not-quite faded finger bruises on Asher's neck. "A good match, I see," Daris said with a smirk.

"In every way," Asher replied.

Harry felt the need to clear his throat again. "Nice to meet you," he said.

"Likewise," Daris said, but then he looked back at Asher as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He put his hand to Asher's cheek. "Look at you. You got old."

Asher laughed. "You can talk. Is that grey hair?"

Daris sighed. "We never thought we'd see it, did we, huh?"

Asher shook his head and whispered, "No."

"And I take it that's not the happy reason you're here now?"

Asher shook his head again. "No."

Daris nodded, and looking back at the desk, he gestured to the seats. "We should sit, I have a feeling this might take a while."

They sat, and Asher cut straight to the chase. He gave a bullet point rundown on Yunho and Lucas being taken. He showed him photos in his phone of the three dead Croatian men being their only lead, and the reason they were here.

"I need guns, ammunition, and any information you can find out," Asher said.

Daris winced and sighed. "I run a legit business now. And I have a daughter, Asher. I can't go back to that life."

"But you know people," Asher tried. "Give me names. I'll ask them. "

Daris studied him and then Harry before he turned his attention to the window, but seeing what, Harry couldn't guess. He had a far-off look in his eyes.

"How old is your daughter?" Harry asked.

"She's nine," Daris replied quietly. His smile was genuine and warm when his eyes met Harry's. "And she's my entire world. And my wife. I have a life I don't deserve, and I can't bring them into this. I just can't."

Harry looked at Asher as he stood. "We'll find another way," Harry said. Then he looked at Daris. "Thank you."

Asher clearly wanted to argue, but he stood and conceded a nod. "It was good to see you, Daris. And for what it's worth, I'm happy for you."

They headed for the door, but Daris sighed. "Wait. Asher..." He shook his head. "I'll... I'll see what I can find out. Give me your number." He mumbled something under his breath and blew out a long frustrated breath. "Goddammit."

Asher shook his head. "No, it's all good, brother. Stay out of it. I don't blame you."

Daris stared at him and a dozen emotions crossed his face. "Look, there's a guy. Ivan ?osi?. Works out of a bar on Splitska in Kova?i?i. He's small-time, but he can get you what you need. But you didn't hear it from me."

Asher gave him a nod. "Thank you."

"Asher," Daris murmured. "You're asking the wrong questions. Forget Croatia. Those men might have spoken Croatian but that doesn't equate to loyalty. To some people in these parts, borders don't matter." His eyes flinched. "I think maybe you should be asking why Yunho?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. What Daris had asked wasn't really a question, more like he wanted them to think about the why, not the who .

"We don't know why they took him," Asher said. "That's why we're here. The three Croatian men gave us nothing. My guess is they were contracted out, paid a bunch of money they never got to spend. Yunho had a lot of enemies; the kind of enemies you don't want. Before now, they didn't know who he was. He was always ten steps ahead of them."

Daris shook his head. "That's my point. How did they find out who he was and where he was? And how did he not know they were coming?"

"We don't know," Harry replied.

Daris looked at Asher. "My guess is they don't want him ."

"He has access to a lot of money and information," Asher said. "Maybe he stumbled into something big?—"

Daris laughed at that. "Big? Bigger than ruining politicians and oil tycoons? Bigger than squandering billions from the bad guys? No, Asher. The one thing he has that no one else has," he said, "is you."

Harry didn't like that.

"Me?" Asher asked. "I'm just a pawn. What the hell could I ever be to those people?"

Daris nodded. "That's the question you need an answer to. Because the one sure way to lure you into their web, to bring you to them, is to use Yunho as bait. To bring you back here, to this place."

"Then why send men to kill us?" Asher countered.

Daris shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong. Like I said, it's been a long time since I was involved." He sighed then. "Just be careful."

Asher nodded. "You too." He opened the door and gave Daris a parting smile. "Maybe we shouldn't leave it so long next time. "

Harry and Asher left, not saying a word until they were half a block away. "I know what he said seems unlikely," Harry murmured. "But fucking hell, Asher, I don't know if he's wrong. Maybe they are after you."

Asher cut him a quick glance. "I don't think so. Yunho's more valuable than me. And if they wanted to lure me here, why try to kill me?"

Harry wasn't sure about that. He was unsure of a lot of things. They had more questions than answers and he wasn't even sure if they were on the right continent or if he trusted Daris at all. But there was no point in arguing speculations with Asher when it got them nowhere.

Instead, he gave a nod. "We need to find Ivan ?osi?."