Tortured Souls (Rebels of Sandland Book 2)

by Nikki J Summers

  “Success comes at a price,” Finn said in a low, mournful voice.

  “And I’ve got the goods to pay,” I snapped back. “Look, what is this? An intervention or something?”

  Zak slammed his laptop shut, and I knew then that he meant business.

  “We think Lockwood might be behind the text messages we’ve been getting.”

  I shrugged back at him.

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “We got another one yesterday,” Ryan added. “Told us we should think twice before putting on another event. Unless we wanted to see the whole of Sandland ‘go off’, that is. In other words, they were threatening some kind of explosion or something. Zak tracked the message back to a mobile registered to Don Lockwood.”

  “So, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go and confront him.” I went to stand up, but Zak gestured for me to sit my ass down and listen.

  “Not so fast. I ran a check on Lockwood, and he has multiple mobile phones registered to his name and his company too. He’s a dirty fucker, so we need to play clever and keep this information close to our chests, until we know exactly what we’re dealing with. He is distancing himself from Alec Winters publicly. He claims he had nothing to do with the money laundering. But he’s making a lot of fucking effort to try and fuck shit up for us. He’s trying to mess with our heads.”

  I agreed with him. The Lockwoods liked their mind games. But so did I.

  “Not all of our heads though,” Ryan said, glaring over at me.

  “Are you still not getting any messages, Brandon?” Finn asked.

  “Nope.”

  I wasn’t going to apologise for it either. Sure, I had their backs when shit went down, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over the fact that Don fucking Lockwood wasn’t sending me lame text messages to try and scare me.

  “That part just doesn’t make sense.” Zak frowned as he spoke. “But that’s why we have to play the long game. Wait it out and see what he comes at us with next.”

  I didn’t agree with him.

  “Fuck the long game. The Lockwoods have been pissing around for too long. I’m still waiting for Jensen to show his face around here so I can rearrange it for him.”

  “Aren’t we all? That fucked up piece of shit has been dodging our bullets for too long now,” Ryan said, showing as much anger as I felt.

  “You’ll have to get in line, mate,” I told him. The first hit was always going to be mine.

  “There won’t need to be any lines. We’ll be standing right next to you. He messes with one of us, he messes with us all. And that includes Harper.”

  That was what I loved about these lads. It didn’t matter what we went through, we’d always have each other’s backs. We’d always be there when one of us needed help. We weren’t blood brothers; we were brothers of the heart.

  “So, the plan is to pretend we don’t know Lockwood is a shady fucker?” I gave a sarcastic huff and looked at each one of them to gauge their reaction.

  “The plan is to stay tight,” Ryan stated confidently. “Watch our backs and make sure he knows he isn’t spooking us. Business as usual.”

  I heard my mobile ring and I slid it out of the side pocket of my jeans. When I saw Pat Murphy’s number flashing back at me, I tried not to show any recognition of it on my face. I didn’t want the lads to think I had any reservations.

  “Yeah?”

  “Friday,” he said loudly down the line. “I need you match fit and ready for your first opponent. I’ve got some heavy hitters putting a lot of money on this one. It’s the fight they’ve all been waiting for.”

  “All of my fights are what they’ve been waiting for.”

  Zak rolled his eyes at me from across the room.

  “I like your cockiness, kid. Save it for Friday, though. The crowd are gonna love it. There might be some sponsors watching too. Make sure you bring it.”

  “I always do.”

  Pat hung up first and I threw my phone down onto the coffee table in front of me.

  “You’ve got a fight booked?” Finn nodded at my discarded mobile.

  “Yeah, this Friday.”

  “Fuck, that’s soon. Are you gonna be okay?” Ryan said with genuine concern on his face.

  “I’m always okay.”

  “Might be a good idea to tell her though. She shouldn’t hear something like that from anyone else. And let’s face it, news will be all over Sandland by the end of the day.” Ryan spoke sense, I knew that. The other two hummed in agreement. But for me, it was a little more complicated. She might accept me as a fighter, but would she want to watch? Did I want her there? The last time I’d fought and I’d seen her I’d totally lost my head. What if that happened again?

  “I’m sorting it. You look after your woman and I’ll look after mine.” I’d reverted back to my trademark defensive response.

  “You sound like a caveman.” Zak laughed.

  “She loves that about me.” I winked, and the atmosphere became slightly less hostile.

  “Whatever,” Ryan said, pushing himself up off my chair. “I need to split. I said I’d pick Emily up. Take her to the court. Text me any updates.”

  I stood up too.

  “Do you want me to come with you?” I asked. “Give a bit of extra moral support?”

  Ryan patted my back as he came past me.

  “That’s good of you, mate, but no. I’ve got this. Anyway, we’re going to view some apartments tonight, so it’s not all bad.”

  I was happy for him. I couldn’t wait to get my own place. I also couldn’t wait to get my chair back. Plus, Zak needed to make me a coffee. I’d been here ten minutes already and he’d done fuck all.

  “Black, two sugars,” I said as I settled myself into the best seat in the house and grabbed the remote control. “Chop chop.”

  I heard Ryan laugh as he walked out the door.

  “You know where the kettle is,” Zak said, not moving from his seat.

  “Why have a dog and bark yourself?”

  I smirked when he stood up and asked Finn if he wanted one too.

  This shit was too easy.

  Call me a crazy fool, but I missed him already. I kind of felt bad for him too after receiving his text messages earlier. He didn’t want to leave me, but he must have thought he had no choice. I guess in his own way he was being selfless. Putting me first and doing a runner so I wouldn’t have to bundle him out or explain to my parents why I had a tattooed bad boy in my bed.

  He’d been so sweet to me lately, thinking up ways to show me he cared. I wanted to do the same. That’s why I was standing on a rainy Sunday afternoon ringing a doorbell that I was sure didn’t work and then knocking on the wooden door with its peeling paint to get their attention inside. There was a group of kids playing football on the grassy area opposite the house that couldn’t have been older than eight or nine, but they were hollering and whistling over at me like a bunch of middle-aged drunkards. Life was certainly… different on this side of Sandland.

  I was lifting my hand up to knock for the fiftieth time when it swung open, and a sour-faced old woman stood in front of me. She had a blue apron on over her clothes and her white hair was covered with a hairnet. She scowled at me as I shivered in the rain.

  “I’ve got no money, so bugger off. We don’t buy off the doorstep round here.” She went to close the door in my face, and I had to put my hand up to stop it.

  “I’m not selling anything. I’m here to see Brandon.”

  She eyed me suspiciously, peering up at me through her glasses, and then she snapped.

  “How much does he owe? I ain’t got nothing, you know. So, you may as well fuck off. He doesn’t live here anymore, anyway.”

  I frowned, trying to remember if he’d told me he was staying somewhere else.

  “But Ryan said he was here. Brandon hasn’t told me he’s moved out.”

  She took a step closer and pushed her glasses further up her nose, as if that would help her decide whether to trust
me or not.

  “You’re the girl from the photo.” She pointed her bony finger and poked my chest. “You’ve lost a bit of weight, but it’s you, isn’t it?”

  I had absolutely no idea what she was on about.

  “What photo?” I asked, wondering if perhaps she meant something in the newspapers from when Brodie died. I didn’t think they’d published my photograph, but I supposed anything was possible with some of the gutter press we’d had to deal with back then.

  “The one in his bedside drawer. He leaves it out sometimes. I see it when I’m cleaning. But most of the time he hides it. God knows why. That boy has no secrets from me. I go through everything.”

  I bet she did.

  “So, he does still live here then.” She grimaced, no doubt inwardly cursing herself that she’d slipped up. “Unless I see the photo, I have no idea if it’s me.”

  “Oh, it’s you. I’ve got a head for faces. I remember everyone.” She tapped the side of her head and smiled like she was keeping state secrets up in that brain of hers and then she went back to scowling.

  “What do you want with my boy, anyway?” She looked me up and down and her face twisted like she was sucking on a lemon. “You’re not his usual type.”

  “And what is his usual type?”

  I didn’t like how this conversation was going.

  “I wouldn’t know. He’s never brought anyone home to show me.”

  Okay then.

  It looked like I was going to be going round in circles with Grandma Mathers for a while longer yet.

  “Can I come in and wait for him?” I asked, and then wondered what the hell I was doing offering to sit with this bat-shit crazy old lady while I waited for Brandon to emerge… Whenever that would be.

  “I’m busy. But you can come in if you like?”

  Don’t do me any favours.

  “Oh, I don’t want to intrude. If you’re busy, I can wait somewhere else.”

  Grannie Mathers scoffed and stepped back, opening her door to indicate that I was welcome to come in.

  “I was just about to start the season finale of Breaking Bad. As long as you don’t tell me any spoilers we’ll get along just fine.”

  Yeah, she was Brandon’s nan all right. No doubting that.

  “I haven’t seen it. So you’re safe.”

  She quirked her eyebrow at me.

  “What sort of shit do you watch then? Downton Abbey, I bet. Although judging from the plum in your mouth I’d say you live in it too.”

  This woman was so rude. But I honestly don’t think she knew it.

  She didn’t wait for my response, but as she toddled down the narrow hallway that smelt like bleach, she pointed to a door on her left.

  “Kettle’s in there. Make yourself useful and put it on. I like my tea strong, milk, two sugars.”

  I didn’t bother arguing. This was probably her way of being hospitable, letting me make the tea for her.

  I shut the front door behind me, and the narrow hallway was suddenly shrouded in darkness as the light from outside disappeared. I made my way down to the kitchen, filled the kettle up, and switched it on. I was just opening random drawers and cupboards to find the spoons and the mugs when I heard the front door close. Seconds later, a familiar voice said, “What the fuck are you doing? Why are you making the tea?”

  I spun round to face Brandon and shrugged on a laugh.

  “Your nan likes it strong. Milk, two sugars.”

  He marched over and took the spoons out of my hand and then gave me a gentle, loving kiss that made my heart flutter.

  “You don’t make the tea. Ever. She’s trying it on. Don’t let her frail old lady act fool you. She’s as tough as old boots, my nan.”

  The old lady act hadn’t fooled me. But the crotchety one had kept me on my toes.

  Brandon pulled me into him and then buried his face into my neck.

  “I missed you. It’s a nice surprise to find you here,” he said. “The last place I expected to see you was in my kitchen.”

  “I wanted to surprise you.”

  He held me in his arms as the old kettle started to jump around to indicate it was close to boiling. I could hear his Nan grumbling about something in the living room, but I blocked her out. No one was going to spoil this moment for me.

  “Let me make this tea then we can go up to my room and talk.” He pulled away and got busy making his nan a cuppa. “Do you want one?” he asked.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  He frowned.

  “You were making her a tea and you didn’t even want one yourself?” He huffed on a smile and shook his head. “I need to teach you to have a better comeback when she tries that shit again.”

  “I don’t mind making her a drink.”

  “You’ll set a rod for your own back. She’ll have you running the hoover round next.” He laughed to himself as he carried her tea through into their lounge. Then he plonked it unceremoniously down onto the table in front of her. “There’s your tea, Nan. Don’t ask Harper to make it again. You’re supposed to treat your guests, not have them doing shit for you.”

  “She offered,” his nan snapped back.

  I hadn’t.

  She reached forward to grab her mug then looked up at him and tutted. “Where’s my biscuits? I’ve got some garibaldis in the biscuit tin.”

  “Get them yourself,” he said, and then took my hand and led me back out again, guiding me to the staircase.

  “Bloody kids. No work ethic these days, that’s the problem,” his nan muttered, but loud enough so we’d both hear.

  Brandon didn’t bite back. I guessed he was used to hearing stuff like that.

  I held his hand as we walked up the stairs that creaked with every step we took. The carpet was threadbare and the wooden bannister was well-worn, but it was clean. They might not have had a lot, but his nan obviously took pride in keeping her house to a certain standard.

  When we got to Brandon’s room, he shut and locked the door behind us. I took in a deep breath, inhaling his scent that I loved. This room was full of it. I had to hold myself back from falling onto his bed and burying my face in the sheets. I wondered then if that was how Sal felt when she visited our house and went into Brodie’s room, before they broke up, obviously. I always thought his room smelt of farmyards and old socks. I figured all guys’ rooms smelt like that, but not Brandon’s. I could’ve stayed here all day.

  “It’s not much, but it’s mine. I’m saving up to get my own place though,” he said, like he needed to justify why he was still living at his nan’s.

  I wasn’t one to talk. Twenty-three years old and I was still with my parents. I’d never felt the urge to move out and live on my own. That had never appealed to me before.

  “The parties must pay well. I couldn’t afford to rent a single room in Sandland on my teaching assistant wages.” He tensed, and when I looked back at him, I knew he was keeping something from me. “What is it?” I asked, sitting on the edge of his bed and bracing myself for the bombshell I knew he was about to drop.

  “I need to tell you something, and I don’t want you to freak out.”

  Oh God, what was he going to say? My stomach was in knots.

  “Not that you will freak out,” he added. “That’s not like you, but I need you to keep an open mind. I have no idea what you’re gonna think and-”

  He was rambling. He always did when he was nervous.

  “Just spit it out, Brandon.” I swallowed the lump that was starting to grow thick in my throat and picked at the varnish on my nails in an effort to distract my racing mind.

  “I’ve got a fight on Friday.”

  I looked up at him and he was staring right at me, waiting for my reaction, but his statement was so vague. I’d seen him fight before. Why was this time any different?

  “I didn’t know you had another party so soon after the last one.”

  There was something that flashed in his eyes in that moment. Something like fear, but I could
’ve been wrong.

  “It isn’t a party. I’m fighting for Murphy.”

  In an instant, the world around me ground to a halt. My legs turned to lead, and a wave of nausea washed over me.

  “Why? Why would you fight for him? You know he was working with Brodie?” My breathing sped up and I felt a tingle in the tips of my fingers. “He won’t care about you, Brandon. He doesn’t care. He uses people. Why are you doing it?”

  Brandon came to sit next to me and took both of my hands in his to stop me wringing them frantically in my lap. Usually, that would’ve calmed me down, but it didn’t. The thought of Pat Murphy and his fighting ring taking someone else I loved away from me made me feel an irrational fear.

  Was it irrational?

  Murphy had done fuck all to help us when Brodie died. He’d done fuck all to support Brandon too. But now that Brandon was back and he’d shown he still had skills in his first fight, Murphy wanted in. He was all about the money.

  “It’s good money, babe. Far too good for someone like me to turn down.” Brandon looked so humble as he spoke, and I hated that. I hated how he used the term ‘someone like me’. It only highlighted how little he thought of himself.

  “But what about your safety? There’s no money in the world that can take the place of that… of you. What if-”

  “I know what you’re thinking,” he butted in. “But nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m in the best shape I’ve ever been. I’ve got this.” He put his finger under my chin to turn my head and make me look at him. “Trust me.”

  “I do trust you. What I don’t trust is for Pat Murphy to do a decent job and make sure everything goes okay. It’s a dirty sport, Brandon. The fights he puts on are all for the show. He couldn’t care less whether you come out the other side or not. As long as he gets his cut off the back of your pain.”

  “I won’t be in any pain,” he said, puffing out his chest. “That’s the other guy’s problem to worry about, not mine.” Then he lowered his head and pulled me into him so I could rest on his chest. “I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you’d hate it.”

  “You couldn’t keep it from me.” I pulled back slightly to argue, but he pulled me closer.