Breaking (Fall or Break #2) Read Online Free PDF

dunes. They had a perfect view of the sea. He wouldn’t mind living in a place like that. He’d been traveling around the UK since he’d left France, never staying more than a few days anywhere, but maybe it was time to risk staying longer.
    Archer tethered his ankle to the board, picked it up and walked into the water. He shuddered at the chill but kept going. When it was too deep to walk, he climbed on and paddled, gasping as cold waves broke in his face. When he was far enough out, he turned the board to face the shore, sat on it and looked over his shoulder, licking the salt from his lips.
    Surfing involved a lot of hanging around waiting for the right moment, picking what you hoped would be the ultimate wave and accurately judging the point at which to commit yourself. He liked the challenge because it had a lot in common with what he used to do. The bad thing about surfing was the amount of time it gave him to think. He’d made an art of not thinking and recently his brain seemed to be catching up on lost time.
    At the sight of an extra-large roll of water heading his way, he lay on the board and started paddling. He caught the wave and skimmed along, a smooth fast ride until he tried to get to his feet and promptly fell off. He went down in a rush of white foam and churning sea, his nose and mouth full of bubbles, but he came up chuckling. He climbed back on, rubbed the water from his eyes and paddled out again. It took him a few more wipeouts before he got the hang of it.
    One of the lessons he’d learned over the last two months had been that failing was something he could accept. He’d never failed in any of his assignments, which was the reason he wasn’t dead or in jail. But recently he’d given up trying to learn the guitar, had not succeeded in getting more than a couple of chapters into War and Peace , and, after buying water colors, paper and brushes, acknowledged he’d never be an artist. He still hoped to find something he was good at.
    As time passed and his identity remained intact, he breathed more easily and felt a future beginning to gain shape. He’d made one more call to Phoenix from a phone box on the other side of the country and the broker told him he still hadn’t been able to identify the shooter. Archer didn’t believe him. He cut off the call when Phoenix offered him another job.
    Now as he rode a monster wave all the way into the shore, he let out a whoop of delight. The sound astonished him. He’d held his emotions in check for so long he’d thought they’d been lost to him forever but it seemed they were still there, waiting for the right moments to burst free. It was as if he was coming to life, and yet in his heart he knew death clung to his heels. He was living with the knowledge that whoever wanted him dead could still be looking and in a way he understood he was waiting for death to catch up with him. He wasn’t sure if he could ever escape that.
    Not every wave was kind. On several occasions he’d been forcibly submerged, compressed by the water to the point he’d wondered if he’d pop up again, only for the sea to spit him out as if he’d been reborn. Except he hadn’t. His past was what it was. His present was a lie and he didn’t know what his future held. One moment it seemed possible and the next a distant dream. His biggest worry was that if he stopped running, he’d die.
    The moment Conrad woke, he slid his hand to his cock, an auto-response, and as usual, his stomach clenched in disappointment. Not that he was counting the number of erection-less mornings, but he was. Against his better judgment, he pulled an image of Malachi into his mind. The dark-haired, bright-eyed guy was lost to him now but if thinking of Malachi groaning beneath him didn’t make his cock swell he doubted anything could. He squeezed, pulled and caressed without success. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
    Conrad didn’t respond when he heard the rat-a-tat-tat at the bedroom door though he took his