Part 32 (1/2)

”But...” his father said.

This is why he's come. Haris waited. Was he going to ask him to give the money back to his brothers? Adil could have it, but not Malik.

”Malik doesn't wish you to have anything. And his vehement insistence upon that has made me wonder why.”

The b.a.s.t.a.r.d. Haris chewed the inside of his cheeks. Sharia was quite clear. Unless Haris murdered his father, he inherited. Period. But Malik had a b.l.o.o.d.y nerve considering what... He swallowed hard. Adil, his youngest brother, had only been eleven when Haris left Saudi for the last time. He was the one he most regretted leaving behind. But he had no choice. If he'd stayed, he'd have been imprisoned for years. He might not have survived.

There was a knock on the door and Wilson walked in. ”I'm sorry, sir, but I really must insist on speaking to you.”

”Excuse me,” Haris said to his father and bundled Wilson out into the hall. ”What is it?”

”Look on the floor of your study.”

”I don't have time for games. What's on the floor and why on earth did you let him in?”

”I didn't. Tyler did.”

Haris pushed open the door of his study. ”Where is-oh Christ.” He picked up one of the photos.

”Tyler's gone,” Wilson said.

Haris spun to look at him and saw his father in the doorway behind. ”Gone where?” he asked. He let the photo fall onto his desk.

”He put his key through the letter box,” Wilson said. ”He's taken his clothes and guitar.”

Haris clenched his fists.

His father cleared his throat. ”The young man was reaching for the photograph of the four of us to show me and I surprised him. He knocked a pile of papers from your desk and those fell from an envelope.”

When his father moved to pick up one of the items, Haris blocked him. ”Don't touch anything.”

”I've seen enough to know he's a wh.o.r.e.”

Haris glared. ”You know nothing about Tyler. Don't you dare judge him.” He turned to Wilson. ”How long has he been gone?”

”About thirty minutes.”

Haris pulled out his mobile. Tyler's number went straight to voicemail. ”Tyler. Come back. I can explain. Please.” He sucked in a breath. ”If you don't want to come back, at least call and let me know you're okay.”

”Is there anything I can do, sir?” Wilson asked.

Haris shook his head. ”I'm sorry I didn't listen. Thank you for persisting.”

Wilson nodded and left the room. Haris was so furious with his father that he could barely keep from yelling at him. Yet he knew it wasn't his fault. The envelope shouldn't have been left there. Why hadn't he destroyed it? He tried to think where Tyler might go.

”There are plenty of decent men out there. Discreet men,” his father said. ”Why would you want anyone who does that?” He gestured toward the photographs.

”Tyler's a good, kind guy. He's had a lot to deal with in his life.”

”So have you.”

”Not like Tyler.”

”Was he whipped? Separated from his family? Does he have scars on his back?” his father snapped.

”His scars are inside.”

”That doesn't compare. You-”

”When Tyler was seven, his brother, sister and mother were brutally killed by his father. Think that scarred him?”

”Haris. I'm-”

”Tyler would have died too, but his father couldn't find him. Tyler lay under his mother's blood-soaked body for hours before the police discovered him. He had no other family and went into care, pa.s.sed around from place to place. For the rest of his childhood, he never had a home, was never loved.”

Haris felt bad that he took pleasure in the shock on his father's face. ”Why would his father do such a thing?”

”Shame. Something you have in common with him. But his shame was over money. He was heavily in debt. Maybe he was trying to spare his family the disgrace of losing the lifestyle they'd grown accustomed to, or maybe it was his final act of defiance, the destruction of the last things he felt belonged to him. He shot himself and left Tyler on his own. Tyler might not have died that day, but what his father did badly damaged him. He's afraid of owing money and that fear pushed him into doing things he shouldn't have had to do. Maybe I should be grateful your offended sense of honor about my s.e.xuality only resulted in you excising me from the family. Or maybe you wished I'd died.”

”Never.” His father shot the answer back and then sighed. ”I just wish you'd been...more careful.”

Haris gave a short laugh. ”Careful? I was seventeen years old and different in a country where you're not allowed to be different. I felt I didn't belong and then a man smiled at me over a coffee and I smiled back. It was that simple and I was being careful. We left the cafe separately. We entered the hotel separately. We booked two rooms on different floors. How do you think the police knew we were together?”

”They followed you from the cafe.”

Haris suddenly wanted to hurt him. If his father hadn't come, Tyler would still be there. ”No, the police didn't follow me.”

”What do you mean?”

And just as quickly, Haris couldn't do it. ”They followed Ras.h.i.+d.”

His father backed to a chair and sat heavily. ”I did everything I could to save you.”

Haris believed him. But whatever he did wouldn't have been enough.

His father looked up at him. ”It broke your mother's heart. And mine too.”

Haris struggled under his own burden of guilt and shame. All this because a h.o.r.n.y seventeen-year-old couldn't keep his c.o.c.k in his pants. But he'd paid in full. He didn't want it raking up again.

”The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you,” Haris murmured. ”I can't help the way I am.”

”What you are is irrelevant. I've grown to understand it's not something you can help. You are what you are. My eldest son and a successful businessman. I've taken pleasure in following your progress. Your mother would have been as proud of you as I am. I wish I could have done something all those years ago. But what?”

Haris knew his father had done as much as he could, but to not keep in touch...

”The only thing I could do was arrange for you to leave Saudi. If you'd stayed, it would have...”