Back in the Game

by Caz Finlay

  Bobby didn’t answer so Grace went on. ‘He was apoplectic, wasn’t he? Remember that poor kid from her school he almost turned into a eunuch?’ Grace continued to laugh. ‘And then when she died, he went to a whole other level. He went nuclear. He’s still out for blood after all these years, you know. He told me it’s his biggest regret in life not knowing who was responsible for the deaths of his little girl and her baby.’

  ‘I wasn’t responsible,’ Bobby spat. ‘If anyone was, it was him. Scared her to fucking death, he did.’

  ‘Well, by all means, you can explain that to him yourself when you see him, Robert. I’m sure he’ll be wanting to pay you a visit once I tell him your little secret.’

  ‘So what the fuck do you want then? Money?’

  Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t need money.’

  ‘What then?’

  Grace leaned on the desk. ‘I want you to stay the hell away from my son. You’ve got a big enough slice of the pie, so leave his alone.’

  Bobby laughed. ‘Does he always need his mummy’s protection?’

  Grace glared at him. ‘Are you fucking kidding me, Robert? Did I just hear you insult my son?’

  He shook his head, sufficiently chastised. ‘How do I know you’ll keep your end of the bargain?’

  ‘I’ve known for twelve years and I’ve never told Sol. But I will be up the M62 quicker than a rat up a drainpipe if you go near Jake or his business again. And should anything happen to me, my solicitor has a letter to Sol which he’ll personally deliver. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’ He pouted, like a petulant child.

  Grace stood up to leave, but couldn’t resist asking him. ‘Don’t you feel any guilt for what happened to that poor girl? To your daughter? Do you have any remorse?’

  He shook his head. ‘It was another lifetime. I told you that.’

  ‘You’re a real piece of shit, Bobby White,’ Grace spat before walking out.

  Chapter 27

  Bobby White frowned at his wife, Leanne, as she busied herself clearing his desk.

  ‘Leave it,’ he snapped. ‘The lads will be here in a minute, and I don’t need you fucking hanging around distracting them.’

  ‘All right, Bobby,’ she whined. ‘I’m only trying to help.’

  He scoffed. ‘Help! Don’t think I haven’t noticed you giving Liam the eye. Now get your arse back out there and put them tits I paid for to good use.’

  Leanne shot him a venomous look and turned on her heel, flouncing out of his office and back into the bar.

  A few moments later, Bobby’s two most trusted employees, Liam McGuinness and Harry Bolger, sauntered through his office door with a bottle of Becks each. No doubt, Leanne had made sure she’d greeted them personally. She was a flirt of the highest order, but the punters fucking loved her. Bobby was sure she’d never actually act on any of her banter, if only because she knew he’d break every bone in her body if she did.

  ‘All right, boss,’ Harry said as the two of them sat down opposite him.

  ‘All right, lads,’ Bobby sighed.

  ‘What’s up?’ Liam asked as he placed his untouched bottle of lager on Bobby’s desk.

  ‘Sunday is off,’ Bobby said.

  ‘What?’ Harry had been taking a swig of his beer and almost choked on it.

  ‘But we’re all set. Everything is in place.’ Liam frowned at him.

  ‘It’s off. That’s all you need to know,’ Bobby snarled.

  Harry sat back in his chair and continued to drink his lager. He was happy to do whatever Bobby told him to, but Liam was young and eager, and he’d been looking forward to Sunday night for weeks.

  ‘But this is our chance to take Jake Conlon out for good. It will be quick and clean. The arrogant prick won’t see it coming. And we can pin it all on Reuben and walk away scot-free. I told you, boss, we’re all set. Reuben doesn’t have a fucking clue. He thinks he’s going to be your next big protégé.’

  Bobby shook his head. ‘We’re leaving Jake Conlon alone. I don’t need the aggro. I certainly don’t need his business. I’ve got enough of my own to be getting on with.’

  Liam shook his head, his face screwed up in anger – or disgust. ‘I don’t fucking believe this. You hate Jake Conlon as much as I do. He stole your gear. He’s an arrogant little twat who only got where he is today because of his name. This is ours for the taking, boss.’

  Bobby glared at Liam. He knew why Liam wouldn’t let it go. He wouldn’t either if he were in Liam’s shoes. Their plan was bloody brilliant. Jake Conlon was going to end up buried in a field in the middle of nowhere, and Reuben McBride was the perfect fall guy. Reuben would be the one in the frame and Bobby and his lads would be in the clear. Not that Bobby was scared to take anyone on – ordinarily he would have been happy to let it be known he’d taken out his biggest rival – but for once he’d used his head and decided he didn’t need a war with Grace Sumner, or her friends the Carters. But now she’d brought a potential war to him and his hands were bloody tied. There was a reason no one ever dared to cross her. She was a fucking shrewd businesswoman. He’d admire her if he didn’t hate her so much. It didn’t matter that she’d been away; now she was back and it seemed the whole of Liverpool was falling back into line.

  Bobby had liked working for Sol. He’d ruled Manchester for years, and you didn’t get to do that without being a vicious bastard, but he was fair too. However, Sol’s reach was far and wide, and if he ever found out the truth about who’d got Chantelle pregnant, he would torture him in ways Bobby couldn’t even begin to imagine.

  Grace Sumner had him over a barrel and for the time being, at least, there was not a single bloody thing he could do about it.

  ‘Has someone got to you?’ Liam asked, snapping Bobby from his thoughts.

  ‘No. Just fucking let it go, will you? I said it’s off and that’s my final word. You just focus on my next shipment and getting our Scottish friends to pay up on time.’

  Sufficiently chastised, Liam sat back in his seat and took his bottle of lager from the table. Bobby smiled. He didn’t like to be challenged. He was the boss and his word was law.

  Chapter 28

  ‘Do you really need to leave your stuff everywhere, Michael?’ Grace snapped as she moved his coffee mug from the papers on her desk for what felt like the hundredth time that afternoon. She’d assumed he wouldn’t be around the club much during the day, but he seemed to be there as much as she was and it was driving her crazy.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said as he took the mug from her.

  ‘It’s like sharing an office with a bloody teenager,’ she sighed. ‘Can you just tidy up after yourself like a grown-up?’

  ‘All right, Grace,’ he snapped. ‘What the fuck’s crawled up your arse today?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. It wasn’t his fault she found it so hard to be in the same room as him. He had no idea. And she had offered him the use of the spare desk – she just hadn’t thought he’d get quite so much use out of it. ‘I’m just feeling a bit on edge today, that’s all.’

  ‘Anything I can help with?’

  ‘Not unless you’re a qualified masseuse,’ she said.

  ‘Pardon?’

  She smiled. ‘I have a knot in my shoulders the size of a football, and my head is pounding.’

  ‘Oh, I see.’

  Grace sat at her desk and was continuing with the staff rotas when Michael piped up. ‘So, if I was a qualified masseuse, do you think it would be a good idea for me to give you a massage in the office?’

  ‘What?’ she said.

  He grinned. ‘I’m just saying, it wouldn’t look very professional of us if you were sitting at your desk with your top off and I was giving you a back rub, would it? What if someone walked in?’

  ‘Who said I’d have my top off?’ she said, laughing.

  ‘Have you ever actually had a massage, Grace?’ he asked incredulously. ‘You have to take your top off. They have to use special oils and shit to get rid of those knots.’ H
e grinned.

  ‘The pain is only in my shoulders and my head, Michael. I don’t think it would require removing any of my clothes.’

  ‘Shame,’ he mumbled so quietly she almost didn’t hear him.

  ‘What did you just say?’

  ‘Nothing.’ He shook his head, feigning innocence. ‘Why don’t you have an early dart and go home. I’m sure a nice hot bath would do the trick.’

  ‘You think so, do you?’

  ‘I imagine so, yes.’

  ‘So now you’re imagining me in the bath? A minute ago you were trying to get me to take my clothes off so you could rub my shoulders. There are laws against this sort of thing, you know. If you’re not careful, people will start to think you’re some kind of sex pest.’

  He stuck his middle finger up at her in response.

  ‘Anyway, I can’t have an early dart. My car is in having a service. Libby’s going to drop me off when her shift finishes at six.’

  ‘I could drive you home,’ he offered.

  ‘No,’ she said a little too quickly and felt bad when he looked offended. ‘I need to finish these anyway.’

  ‘Okay.’ He quietly went back to his laptop.

  Grace felt a pang of guilt. They had once had such an easy relationship but now it would never be the same, and she only had herself to blame. She wanted nothing more than to sit and talk to him for hours, to tell him everything. But she couldn’t. She had done something unforgiveable, and it was only a matter of time before he found out.

  Chapter 29

  Martin Mitchell shuffled through the door of Bobby’s office at the back of his bar, Gin Blossom, and stood in front of his desk. Bobby didn’t look up from the newspaper he was reading. Martin cleared his throat as if to announce his arrival.

  Bobby looked up with a sigh. ‘Martin Mitchell. What the fuck do you want?’

  ‘I’ve got some information about Jake Conlon,’ he said, his chin tilted defiantly.

  ‘Oh?’ Bobby sat a little straighter. ‘What kind of information?’

  ‘He stole your gear,’ Martin said.

  ‘I fucking know that,’ Bobby snapped. ‘So, if there’s nothing else, fuck off!’

  ‘I know who he’s working with,’ Martin offered.

  Bobby frowned at him. He’d never quite figured Martin out. When Bobby had first moved to Liverpool, he’d used Martin to move some dodgy spirits through the pub he’d been working at. Martin came from a family of criminals. His uncle, Kevin Mitchell, had once been someone to be reckoned with, before he’d had the shit beaten out of him and ended up a cabbage – a hazard of the job. Martin had seemed like he wanted to follow in his uncle’s footsteps, but when Bobby had offered him a bigger slice of the pie, he’d backed off and gone and got himself a job working for Jake Conlon.

  ‘What’s in this for you?’ Bobby asked.

  ‘He fucking fired me,’ Martin moaned. ‘Well, his bitch of a ma did, anyway. She fucking swans around the place, doing fuck all, and she has the balls to fire me. Had the bouncers throw me out too, in front of my fucking girlfriend. I’ve had enough of them fucking Conlons, Bobby. Someone needs to teach them a lesson.’

  ‘And you think that someone is you, do you?’ Bobby laughed.

  ‘No. But I could help you do it.’

  ‘Who is he working with then?’ Bobby asked, indicating the seat in front of his desk.

  Martin sat down. ‘Michael Carter,’ he said, triumphantly.

  Bobby glared at him, his eyes narrowed. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yep. I’ve seen them together. Michael’s taken over security at the club. Him and Jake are in business together. I’d bet my life on it.’

  ‘If you’re lying to me …’

  ‘I’m not, Bobby. I swear,’ Martin stuttered.

  Bobby had heard Michael Carter was out of the drugs game after he’d set up his own security business. If Michael was back in the game, then his boys were too, and possibly his brother. The Carter family were well known in Liverpool, and were treated like royalty – they would not be an easy family to take down. A Conlon–Carter alliance was Bobby’s worst nightmare. And if things couldn’t get any worse for him, Grace Sumner was back too. The Carters, for all their reputation and power, were basically her personal protection detail.

  Bobby admired Grace. She had come from a powerful family herself and had worked her way up to the very top. There was a time when she had practically run Liverpool, with the Carters as her lapdogs, and then she’d just walked away from it all. It was her departure, and Nathan Conlon’s death, that had heralded Bobby’s move to the city. Before that he’d been floating around Glasgow and Newcastle, but there wasn’t the same money to be made there. There was no way he could go back to Manchester, London was all sewn up, so Liverpool was the next best place to be as far as he was concerned. But now Grace was back, and she knew about his involvement with Sol Shepherd’s daughter. He had no doubt she would use that information if she needed to. So he had to plan his next move carefully.

  ‘So?’ Martin said, interrupting Bobby’s thoughts. ‘What are you going to do?’

  Bobby considered the man sitting before him. He seemed eager to witness the downfall of the Conlon–Sumner dynasty. But if he thought Bobby would do all of the work and let him sit back and watch, he had another think coming. If Bobby played his cards right, he could get rid of Jake and Michael and pin it all on someone else. He already had one scapegoat lined up in the form of Reuben McBride, and here was another one offering himself on a plate.

  ‘You mean, what are we going to do, Martin?’ he asked.

  Martin’s face paled, but then he sat up straighter in his chair and nodded.

  ‘I appreciate the information. Let me think about our next move and I’ll be in touch. Have a few drinks in the bar before you go. Leanne will look after you.’ Bobby smiled at him.

  Martin smiled back. ‘Thanks, Bobby,’ he said as he stood up and backed out of the room, almost genuflecting as he did so.

  Bobby laughed to himself. That’s right, lad, bow to your king.

  Chapter 30

  Eddie squinted as sunlight streamed through the windows of his mate Ando’s flat. Groaning, he straightened his legs out along the old sofa. His whole body ached. He’d slept in an awkward position, and he still hadn’t fully recovered from the vicious beating he’d taken a couple of weeks earlier. He knew Grace Sumner was behind it. He hated that woman. One day someone would give that vile bitch exactly what was coming to her, and it couldn’t come soon enough as far as he was concerned.

  Eddie shook his head. His brain felt like it was made of candyfloss and his mouth was so dry he couldn’t even swallow. Reaching his hand out, he fished around for anything that might quench his thirst, and settled on a half-empty can of Strongbow. Swigging the contents back, he almost gagged at the stale, sweet taste of the now flat cider. Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he let out a large belch and sat up. Ando’s living room looked and smelled like the inside of an old boozer. Bottles, cans and cigarette stumps littered the small room. Ando himself was comatose on the floor in front of the gas fire, wearing what looked like at least three layers of clothing.

  Eddie rubbed his eyes and his stomach growled in hunger. It had been a few days since he’d eaten anything substantial. He’d been on a bender to end all benders – ever since the night his lying whore of a mother had told him that Nathan Conlon was his father – and food wasn’t top on his list of priorities. That had been two weeks ago now, and he’d come straight to Ando’s place, and together the pair of them had been drunk and stoned ever since – funding their extended party by nicking whatever they could get their hands on.

  The trick to dealing with difficult news, in Eddie’s experience, was to blot it out for as long as possible, until it didn’t make his head hurt quite as much. If he stayed just the right amount of wasted, then the hurt and anger remained around the edges, like a dull ache, rather than an all-consuming agony that occupied his every waking mo
ment.

  Looking at the bag of skunk on the coffee table, he wondered whether it was time to start sobering up and deciding just what he would do with his new-found knowledge about his father, or whether he should roll a big, fat spliff and sink back into oblivion. He was Nathan Conlon’s son. Fuck! It was mind-blowing. Why hadn’t his mum told him? Why on earth would she choose to keep such important information from him? As the rage started to prickle underneath his skin, he decided that the skunk was his best option. He had plenty of time to figure out his next move.

  Chapter 31

  Grace was lying on the floor of her sitting room playing trains with Belle when she heard her mobile phone ringing. Glancing at the screen she saw it was her accountant, Ivan, calling.

  ‘Hi, Ivan. What can I do for you?’ she asked.

  ‘Grace, love. There’s a client of mine here who could really use your help.’

  ‘Oh, who?’

  ‘Steven Porter. Do you remember him?’

  Grace paused while she tried to recall how she might know him.

  ‘He sold you the building for yours and Sean’s first restaurant,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Oh yeah,’ Grace said. ‘Grazia’s. What help does he need from me?’

  ‘It’s a little delicate. Would you mind meeting him at my office?’

  Grace sighed. She had a rare day off, but she knew Ivan wouldn’t ask a favour of her unless he needed to. ‘I’ll wait for Belle to take her nap and ask Marcus to watch her for me. Is two o’clock okay?’

  ‘Perfect,’ he said. ‘Thanks, my love. I’ll see you at two.’

  Grace hung up the phone and returned to her game with Belle, feeling somewhat distracted. She hadn’t seen Steven Porter for years; what the hell could he want from her?

  ***

  Grace walked up the steps to Ivan’s office and knocked on his door. He opened it and greeted her with a smile and a warm hug. She noticed Steven sitting on a chair as she walked in, looking pale and clammy, which Grace assumed wasn’t a good sign. God, what had he done?