by KERRY BARNES
She smiled to herself; with a few personal belongings, she would feel right at home. She sat down on the sofa and gazed at every inch of the room. It was perfect.
***
Zara pushed her food around the plate. ‘Are you busy today, Eric?’
The colour had returned to his cheeks. ‘I told you, babe. I’m here if you need me.’
‘Could you take me to the hospital? I want to see Neil.’
Eric placed his knife and fork down. ‘Yeah, no worries, but wasn’t he just a business associate, really? I mean, if you’re their boss . . . ’
Zara shot Eric a look that he’d never seen before.
‘I told you, Eric, the Lanigans are like family to me.’
‘Are you sure they weren’t just muscling in on your business, taking it over piece by piece, while you were . . . well, ya know, missing?’
At that moment, Zara realized that Eric actually knew very little about her now. It stood to reason: she’d been away in Ireland for five years secretly running the businesses with the Lanigans, and then she was kidnapped by the Segals and held captive for another five. And in all that time, Mike was in prison himself, without so much as a letter from Eric.
‘I’ve no idea why you would think that, Eric, but you couldn’t be further from the truth.’
Eric felt as though he’d been well and truly put in his place. He’d thought that placing doubt in her mind may work when it came to matters of the heart, but he now realized that it wouldn’t when it came to her business affairs. He made a mental note not to underestimate her.
‘Oh, and while we’re on the subject of the Lanigans, please do tell me why you take issue with them because you have now made two snide comments.’
Eric stiffened and suddenly felt uncomfortable with the way in which Zara remained poker-faced, awaiting an answer. ‘No, I’ve no problem with them, it’s just you’re gonna be a Regan soon, ya know, part of the family, and, well, I like to have a good understanding of the men behind the firm that we’ll be getting into bed—’
Without allowing Eric to finish, Zara spat, ‘Since when did me marrying Mike have anything to do with my business affairs?’
He sensed he’d pushed the wrong buttons and realized that once again he’d let his mouth run away with him. As much as he tried to be like Mike, he knew that he couldn’t match the man’s cunning tongue. ‘Sorry, Zara. I’m not trying to interfere, I’m simply looking out for you.’
Zara’s brow felt heavy. She wiped her mouth with the napkin and stood to leave. ‘Thanks for breakfast. I’ll see you later.’
Dumbfounded, Eric stared as Zara left the restaurant. Fuck, what just happened?
Slapping a fifty-pound note on the table, he hurried after her. ‘Hey, Zara!’ He grabbed her arm to turn her to face him, only to feel a sharp tug as she pulled it away.
‘If you don’t mind, I would prefer to be alone. I think I’ve made a mistake. You may have been the man who found me, but I don’t really know you or Mike for that matter.’ She was about to march off, but he grabbed her again.
Seeing the angry look on her face, Eric released his grip on her arm. ‘Sorry, babe. You have to believe me. I never meant to upset you. The Lanigans probably are decent and kosher. I’m worried for ya, that’s all. You’re not 100 per cent yourself, so I guess I felt the need somehow to look out for ya.’
She stared into his face, with not even a hint of a smile. ‘I’m fine, really, and more than capable of jumping on a train. So, if you would excuse me.’
Eric knew he was losing the battle. ‘Zara, please. Mike would kill me if he knew I’d let you get on a train when I have a perfectly good car sitting there.’
‘Right now, I couldn’t care what Mike thinks. He, like you, obviously doesn’t know me very well. I ain’t the type of woman who sits back and takes shit, and if he thinks because he’s been banged up for twelve years that that gives him the right to fuck any young bit of skirt when he’s supposed to be engaged to me, then he and you are very much fucking mistaken.’
Gotcha! Eric knew then his little plan had worked; now all he had to do was to reel her in for himself. ‘All right, I’m sorry. I guess you’re right, but you can’t blame me for getting you wrong, eh? Look at you. A stunning woman who’s been through the wringer and comes out the other end – most women would have rolled over and died. And there you are, as strong as an ox, and me, the dickhead, pandering to you. Listen, I’ll drive you to the hospital, and if you want me to wait, I will, or I’ll leave you to get a cab back.’ He held his hands up as a sign of defeat.
Zara looked him up and down and wondered if he was being genuine or he was patronizing her again. A wave of tiredness made her mind up for her. She nodded. ‘Okay, then.’
The drive was spent in silence as Zara contemplated what Eric had been telling her about Mike. He hadn’t denied Mike had slept with that tart; surely, he would have told her straightaway, wouldn’t he? Her rational thought of confronting Mike over the issue disappeared. The hurt, if she allowed it, would consume her. Then a niggling thought popped into her head; it was a notion that she didn’t want to believe, but was Eric deliberately trying to sabotage her relationship with Mike, or did Eric have genuine feelings for her? Maybe that kiss was just a momentary weakness. She shuddered at the thought that she’d led Eric on and now felt guilty for being so disloyal to Mike. She had to push the troubling thoughts aside and get her mind back on track, starting with who the fuck stabbed Neil and who had the audacity to ruin her businesses.
Eric parked in the underground car park at St Thomas’ Hospital and opened the door once more for Zara to get out. She thanked him and was about to head inside the building when he stopped her.
‘Hey, Zara. Listen. Two heads are better than one. I’ll come with you if Neil can share as many details as he can remember. Maybe I can do some digging?’
Zara shook her head in annoyance. ‘This is hardly the place, is it? I’m only visiting because I care about him. This isn’t a boardroom set-up, you know.’
Eric stopped dead; her cold, flat words were now pissing him off. ‘Okay, Zara. I’ll wait in the car.’
Without bothering to reply, she marched ahead, wondering if she’d been too sharp for no real reason other than his affections for her.
After asking at reception for the Lambeth Wing, she followed the route and stepped inside the lift. As she looked at the map on the wall, a heavily built round-faced doctor, holding a file under his arm, joined her and asked if she needed the prosthetics department. For a moment, she was stunned.
‘Pardon?’ she said politely.
He looked at her wrist. ‘Prosthetics?’
‘Oh no. Sorry, I’m visiting a friend.’
‘Oh, I’m very sorry, I thought . . . Well, look, I can see you don’t wear a prosthetic. Is there any reason?’
‘Well, no, I mean, can I . . . er . . . is it possible to have . . . ?’ She held up her arm and instantly saw the shock on the doctor’s face.
He stared for a moment and then gave her a sympathetic smile. ‘I’m Doctor Hussain. I work on the fourth floor. Come and see me. I’m sure I can help you.’
He took another look at her scars. ‘Please do come. I really think I can make a difference.’
‘Thank you. I will do.’
With that, he exited the lift, leaving Zara with ideas of a prosthetic hand. Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.
***
Davey Lanigan looked exhausted, old, and haggard. Zara almost gasped when she saw him slumped in the chair half-asleep. The last time she’d seen him, he was a picture of health with a mop of black hair. Now he was grey and half the size. Startled by a presence in the room, he nevertheless smiled in relief when he saw who the visitor was. He rose from his chair. ‘Zara!’ his voice cracked.
Unexpectedly, Zara fell into his arms and hugged him tightly. Who would have thought it? Ten years ago, she’d nearly killed him by bludgeoning him with a rock. Yet she very quickly learned that he w
as the most faithful and trustworthy man she’d ever met. For five years, their businesses thrived, and they’d split the profits with not even a squabble. Even after she’d gone missing for all that time, he’d still put her share of the profits in one of her offshore accounts.
So much was said in that embrace, though none of it spoken.
As he held her away to get a proper look, she smiled and then her expression changed as she peered over at Neil lying in the bed, wired up to monitors. Surprisingly, Neil looked good, although he was very pale. He always was a handsome man; a few streaks of grey were apparent in places, showing his age, yet his body was still ripped with muscles.
‘How is he?’ she uttered through tears.
‘He’s okay. He gave us a fright, but the doctor reckons he’ll make a full recovery. And you, Zara? How are you faring?’
She smiled and then chuckled. ‘Well, I guess a lot better than you. Jesus, Davey, you look washed out. Why don’t you book a room in a hotel? Get some sleep. I’ll stay with Neil.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m fine. Anyway, Tania’s on her way. She’s in a right state.’
Zara’s memory of Tania, Davey’s wife, was of a fiery redhead who probably had more mouth and trousers than any woman on the planet. ‘Well, when we find the cunts who did this to Neil, we could always let her loose to do what she does best – vent her spleen.’
Davey laughed for the first time since he’d received the news that his son had been stabbed. ‘Jesus, she is nuts, that woman. Even to this day, I still sleep with one eye open.’
That brief moment of humour was quickly brought to a halt as they both looked over at Neil’s prone state. Zara pulled up another chair and sat opposite Davey. ‘Maybe this isn’t the right time to broach the subject, but I’ll not rest until I have the bastards strung up. Shamus tells me that my arcades and my restaurants have been raped. Tell me, Antonio’s? Is that still okay?’
Davey shrugged his shoulders. ‘Up until last night it was, but who knows? All my men are back in Ireland now. Mind you, Zara, I’ve asked for six of them to come over to London. I want the filthy bastards caught.’
Zara nodded, in acknowledgement. ‘Can you call Antonio and tell him to close the restaurant and leave a sign that says due to staff sickness the restaurant will only be open on this coming Saturday? I don’t understand why they are targeting our businesses. But one thing’s for sure. We need to be a step ahead of the game. Let’s keep this to ourselves. This firm will no doubt rear their ugly heads, and I, at least, will fucking blow the cunts away.’
Davey didn’t argue; he pulled out his phone and spoke to Antonio to make the arrangements. Antonio didn’t question him; he’d heard about the other restaurants and was a nervous wreck. In fact, he’d already booked flights back to Italy when he’d been made aware of the trouble.
Zara leaned forward and gently kissed Neil’s forehead. As she sat back down, his eyes slowly blinked and then opened. Like his father’s, Neil’s eyes were a piercing blue. He blinked again, and as he focused, a generous smile spread across his face.
‘Hello, handsome. How are ya doing?’ She spoke with a gentle calmness to her voice, which masked her inner concern for him.
Still very weak, he nodded. He held her gaze, and then, as if he’d just remembered something, he frowned and looked at her wrist. His eyes were suddenly wide and alert. He didn’t have to say anything: the expression of empathy was embedded on his face.
‘Hey, it’s okay, I’m still me. Well, older, and less handy, if you pardon the pun.’ She laughed, to lighten the mood. ‘I’m gonna get the bastards, Neil. I’m gonna rip their fucking hearts out.’
Neil looked at his father, who nodded in agreement.
Slowly, but surely, Neil came around enough to sit up and speak; they’d so much to catch up on that the time flew by.
***
Having waited patiently for an hour, Eric was getting frustrated. But he couldn’t show his annoyance, not after putting his foot in it. Climbing out of the car, he straightened his suit and made his way to the reception area, where he was directed to the Lambeth Wing. Zara wouldn’t mind if he made an appearance, surely? After all, he surmised, the Regans weren’t enemies of the Lanigans. Confident that he would be welcomed, he walked towards the private room along from the ward.
As soon as he stood in the doorway, he saw Zara sitting on Neil’s bed and kissing the man’s cheek. The sight of her embracing Neil turned his stomach and fixed him to the spot. He continued to watch as she stood up and hugged who he could only assume was Davey. As much as Mike and himself had done business with the Lanigan family many moons ago, only Mike had met the man while serving time.
As Zara spotted him there, she instantly uncurled her arms from Davey and stared in Eric’s direction. Davey turned to see the tall and smartly dressed man hovering.
Entering the room, Eric stuck out his hand to shake Davey’s. ‘Hi, I’m Eric Regan, Mike’s brother.’ It rankled, him saying ‘Mike’s brother’. He always felt second best. And it really made his blood boil that not only was he always seen as inferior to him, but everyone would sit up and take notice if he mentioned Mike’s name.
Davey smiled and responded to the gesture. ‘Good to meet you, and it gives me the chance to thank you personally for saving our Zara.’
Eric forced a smile. The words ‘our Zara’ had so many connotations. Did he mean her as a business partner or family? Either way, it established their bond, and it pissed Eric off.
He looked over at Zara, who didn’t appear best pleased with his presence. ‘Er, I thought it would be rude of me not to pop my head in and say hello.’
Davey patted Eric’s arm. ‘Well, it’s nice to meet you. Zara was just saying goodbye, so your timing was perfect.’
Was Davey being sarcastic or genuine? It was hard to tell, thought Eric.
‘Eric, I’ll meet you by the car. Give me ten minutes. I’ve just remembered I need to talk about some business.’
‘I can wait.’ He smiled at Davey, but the older man’s body language was a clear indication that he wasn’t wanted. He’d been somewhat fooled by his elderly appearance, thinking that he could muscle his way in.
‘Sorry, Eric, I think it’s best you leave us now. Our business is private. I hope you understand,’ responded Davey.
The cold, frank words hit Eric like a knife to the throat; straightaway, he thought about Mike and gritted his teeth. Davey Lanigan wouldn’t have said that to him. With another fake smile, Eric nodded and walked away, fuming.
‘I get the impression, Zara, you haven’t yet joined forces with the Regans?’
She gave a heavy sigh. ‘To be perfectly honest, I’m not sure what the best way forward is. Still, the one thing I do have is my business.’ She smiled. ‘With you, that’s a constant and dead cert in my life, right now. As for the future with Mike, I’m not so sure. Hey-ho, life’s a bitch, but I intend on being the biggest of them all.’
Davey hugged her again. ‘You’re never a bitch. Maybe you’re one hard cow, yeah, but bitch – not a chance.’
Just as Zara was about to reply, a strident Irish voice could be heard down the corridor. ‘Stick your fecking visiting hours up yer arse. I’ve travelled all fecking day to see my son, and for your fecking information, I’m paying two thousand pounds a day, so don’t you tell me, Miss Hoity-Fecking-Toity, that I can’t see my son!’
Davey laughed. ‘Now, that there is a bitch.’
Zara laughed as she watched the short red-haired woman stomping along the corridor with the nurse, looking very flushed, hot on her heels. As soon as Tania reached her son’s room, her angry expression melted. She hugged Zara. ‘I fecking knew you weren’t dead. It would take more than a few Jewish amateurs to take you out!’ Her voice and manner of speaking were so hard and blunt that Zara had to laugh. Tania was always the same – swearing, hooting, and hollering – but underneath all that fierceness, she was a woman of reason and compassion.
As soon as she w
as in the room, she flung her arms around Neil. All Zara could hear was, ‘Mum, you’re squashing me.’
Davey turned to her, and in a mild manner, he whispered, ‘We need to meet tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be at my house. You have the address. It’s my father’s place.’
He nodded and kissed her one last time before she left.
***
As soon as she opened the car door, Eric greeted her with a stony face. She wasn’t even going to bother asking what was wrong. After ten minutes of congested London traffic, listening to a talk show on LBC, Eric broke his frustrated silence. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. It’s the last thing I wanted to do. I only want to help you, Zara.’
Zara was jolted out of her thoughts of vengeance. ‘Yes, no worries. It’s fine.’ However, it wasn’t really okay; she was sick to the back teeth of hearing those words: ‘I only want to help’.
He sensed her distraction, and chewed his lip, thinking of the right words to say without sounding too nosey. ‘Do they reckon Neil will make a full recovery?’
‘Yes. Apparently, he’s as strong as an ox.’
‘Do they have any idea who did it?’ asked Eric, in his most caring tone, hoping to keep up the conversation.
‘No, but . . . well, no, they don’t know.’
He knew she was deliberately keeping something from him and it spurred on his vexation.
‘Does he have any enemies?’
Zara rolled her eyes. ‘In our line of work, of course we have enemies.’
‘We?’ He’d done it again, allowing the words to leave his mouth before giving much thought to what he was saying.
Zara was now the one who was irritated. She turned to face him. ‘Eric, I don’t know what your problem is, but let me lay the facts on the table. My business is not a two-bit set-up. I’m worth a fucking fortune, and I’ve managed to hang on to it with the full support of the Lanigans. I understand that marrying Mike would make me a part of your family, but that is a very separate issue. My business with the Lanigans is my business, end of story!’