...Scott tapped the corner of envelope he held against his car’s steering wheel as he stared vacantly through the windscreen. He didn’t need to open the envelope and re-read the orders enclosed in order to recall exactly what Joe’s instructions for him were.

He had the whole damn thing memorised to perfection.

Drive to Carter’s Rest.

He’d done that bit, no problem. The directions Scott had printed out from the Internet had worked a charm. He now sat outside a dingy-looking gay club right on the edge of the city—which was apparently where Joe wanted him to be. Scott took a deep breath and let it out very slowly in an effort to calm his racing pulse.

Stay in your car until exactly 11 P.M.

Scott glanced at his watch for the third time in as many minutes and silently cursed himself. He’d known he shouldn’t have left for their date so early. Excessive punctuality wasn’t going to win him any prizes—it was just going to drive him completely around the bend.

Running a hand down his face, Scott slumped down in his seat. At this rate he’d be a nervous wreck before he was even due to walk into the place.

Letting out a sigh, he tilted back his head and stared up at the underside of the car roof, as if the answers to every question in the universe might be written there—or at least a few pointers on how to please Joe. Forget all the bull about the key to perpetual happiness—the only thing Scott really wanted to know was how to keep Joe happy with him.

Neon light flickered in and out of existence on the wall in front of Scott’s car, casting a strange glow over the interior.

Park in the first space to the right of the entrance.

He was exactly where Joe wanted him to be. Everything was fine. Scott rubbed his hands against his jeans, as if that would somehow stop his palms sweating.

He looked at his watch again. Then he looked at the clock on the dashboard to make sure it wasn’t running fast.

Eleven P.M. Gathering up whatever courage he could find, Scott pulled himself out of the car. He peered into the shadows that seemed to extend for several yards on every side of the club. There was still no sign of Joe’s car, or his bike, anywhere in the car park.

Perhaps Joe had changed his mind about their date. Perhaps…

Scott shook his head. Orders were orders. They weren’t to be questioned, they were to be followed.

He locked his car, sent up a quick prayer that it would still be there when he came out of the club, and turned toward the low, graffiti-covered building. Pushing the door open, he stepped inside.

He’d thought the car park was gloomy and sinister, but as the club door swung closed, a deeper kind of blackness closed in around him. A shiver ran down his spine.