by KERRY BARNES
‘Okay, so our next move is to reopen Antonio’s on Saturday night. Davey’s men will be dining, and Shamus, believe it or not, is a dab hand at pasta, so everything’s in place to wipe out this fucking gang.’
Victor suddenly looked drained. ‘Zara, this isn’t about a few kids running around acting like hard men who can be easily beaten. This drug is evil. It makes the gangs reckless and ruthless. You do know if you take one lot out, there’ll be another one taking over, and what they did to Neil, they’ll do to the others, one by one?’
Zara sat back on her chair and tilted her head to the side. ‘My father said you were a dangerous man. Tell me, Victor, you said you like to work alone, but after all that this gang did to your wife, how come you haven’t gone all out yourself to take ’em down?’
Sitting opposite, Victor’s face suddenly changed back to that evil grin. ‘What makes you think I haven’t already been doing that?’
Zara’s eyes bulged wide. ‘What?’
‘Before Lennon, there was another bloke called Terian. He was the man running the manor. He was a vile creature who gang-raped a kiddie, two doors up from me. A real little darling she was, only fifteen an’ all. She was too shit-scared to call the police, but she mentioned his name, and that was all I needed.’
Zara leaned forward on her chair, listening to every word. ‘Go on. Did you kill him?’
With a devious smirk, he nodded. ‘Not only him. I sorted out the two other sick bastards as well.’
‘Was it on the news? I never heard anything?’
He shook his head. ‘These gang members, whether they rape, murder, or rob, it’s all kept hush-hush, and so if they go missing, that’s kept quiet too. The police don’t want to be seen to be lacking in effort, if ya know what I mean, babe. It would be a public relations disaster. So Lennon won’t get a mention in the newspapers either. They won’t even follow it up.’
‘So, when I take out these greedy fuckers who’ve done over my business, their disappearance won’t be slapped all over the papers?’
Slowly, he shook his head. ‘Nope.’
‘Good, because when I meet these gang members, I want them to know who I am. They need to know that the woman with one hand is real and not some made-up story. I want them all to fear my firm and me and to think twice about ever setting foot in my premises or even attempting to peddle their fucking wares on my ground.’
‘You are so like your father, but, listen, don’t do that. Let your Irish guys be the front men. Don’t put yourself at risk. I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, but a woman with one hand will be like a challenge to them. They’ll all think they can take you out and will want to try it,’ said Victor, with a soft fatherly voice.
Surprised, yet pleased by his input, she smiled inwardly. He really didn’t know her at all. ‘Oh, and by the way, thank you for organizing the cameras for me. I really want this house back to how Izzy had it, but I want it more up to date.’
He nodded and winked. ‘You need to look out for yaself, babe. You be careful, eh?’
Zara nodded, accepting his advice.
***
Eric arrived at Mike’s with an Indian takeaway. The boxing was on, and the lads were all coming around to have a few beers and a bite to eat. It had been a regular thing every Thursday. Either they played poker or watched a match. Mike had decided to drop the issue with Eric over the party incident and just let sleeping dogs lie.
With the exception of Eric, they all cheered Ricky on, as he got himself spruced up for his date.
Ricky was dressed to impress. Since he’d taken Kendall’s phone number, they’d been continuously texting, and tonight he was going to take her out. The cab driver beeped his horn while Ricky took one last look in the mirror.
Willie called out, ‘Home before midnight, Cinderella.’
Ricky, in a real bubbly mood, shouted back, ‘Yes, Wicked Stepmother.’
Staffie laughed. ‘More like a fucking ugly stepsister.’
Eric didn’t join in the banter: he glared at Ricky’s wide smile and glowing cheeks and left them all to it.
***
The cab pulled up directly outside the Daylight Inn, and Ricky jumped out and handed the driver a score. ‘Keep the change, mate.’
As the cabbie drove away, Ricky straightened his jacket and walked past the bouncers, giving them a wink, and wandered over to the bar. He looked at his Rolex and smiled. He was bang on time. He ordered a pint and waited. He didn’t actually know what Kendall liked to drink although he knew pretty much everything else, since they’d been glued to their phones, texting.
The pub was not as busy as at the DJ party, and it appeared so different; without the flashing disco lights and people dancing, it seemed somewhat sedate. He watched the door, eagerly awaiting her arrival, and then, as the door opened, his heart beat faster. There she was. She looked different: her hair was smoothed down and her make-up was subtle. She wore a black dress, a jeans jacket, and high shoes. Ricky looked her up and down and then whistled, which made Kendall blush. The scene was a far cry from the other night, when she seemed stubborn and played hard to get.
He leaned with one arm on the bar and gave her his trademark wink with a cheeky smile. ‘What would you like to drink, babe? How about some champagne?’
For the first time in her life, Kendall could honestly say she felt like a woman; her ever angry mood and stubborn streak dissipated the minute he’d given her that wink. She could easily have fallen right into those pools of pearl grey. ‘Sounds good to me.’
Ricky ordered a bottle and took it over to a small table by the window. She sat on a low stool opposite and watched as he poured their drinks. ‘Cheers,’ he said, as he passed her a tall glass.
As they sipped the cold drink, the bubbles shot up Kendall’s nose, which made her giggle. Even the laugh was new; she wasn’t used to laughing. Her life had been centred around a sombre, gloomy, and stifling atmosphere. This was so invigorating, she really felt that at long last she had moved on from her previous life in the Mullins household. And the figure-hugging dress and high heels were giving her added confidence, enhancing her self-worth as a sexy woman.
Ricky was looking at her with admiration, and she wondered why he’d taken such a liking to her; after all, there were far prettier women in the pub on that particular night. Still, she wasn’t here to question him about that! No, she was going to lap it up and find out what this mysterious young man was really like.
‘So, would you like to have an Indian or a Chinese? There’s one of each across the road,’ asked Ricky, still gazing into Kendall’s eyes.
The offer on the surface was a good one, but she wanted to have him all to herself. Not for one second did she want to be distracted, even by a waiter. So she made a counter offer. ‘Why don’t we get a takeaway and eat it in my flat?’ she suggested.
It was Ricky’s turn to blush. ‘Um, what? You have your own place?’
She nodded and seductively placed the glass to her lips and sipped the champagne, the hint of a smile forming on her face.
Ricky’s eyes widened: he couldn’t believe his luck. He was dying to be alone with Kendall. ‘Why not? I’ll order another bottle of this stuff, and we can enjoy a little romantic meal at yours.’ He winked again. ‘No one to disturb us.’
‘Disturb us from what, Ricky?’ she teased, in her slow, alluring voice.
‘From anything we wanna do. ’Cos I for one ain’t too keen on a public show of affection, and those rosebud lips of yours are too tempting not to plant a kiss on ’em.’
She pretended to act coy and raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, what are we waiting for?’
Ricky jumped up and headed to the bar while Kendall smoothed down her dress, her mind tingling with excitement. She wasn’t into one-night stands; in fact, she really wasn’t into sex, but Ricky was different. He was so sexy that she just wanted to get her hands on him. She hoped he felt the same way about her.
Holding two bottles of champagne, he asked if
he should call a cab.
‘No need. I live just over there.’ She pointed out of the window to the flat above the hairdresser’s.
Just as they stepped outside, the heavens opened, and the sudden downpour had them both taking a step back. Ricky, ever the gentleman, removed his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. ‘There ya go, sweetheart.’
The darkness was creeping in, and the torrential rain made their surroundings seem a blur, but they hurried across the road towards the back of the flat, laughing as they ran. Once they were inside the building, and shaking off the excess water, Ricky followed Kendall as she rushed up the stairs. The landing light wasn’t working, so she struggled in the darkness to put her key in the lock. Finally, they were inside. Ricky turned to close the door behind him, but something was stopping him. As he looked down, he saw a large trainer. With no time to react, the door was smashed open, knocking Ricky off balance. Before Ricky or Kendall could even focus on who was barging their way in, a bag was shoved over Ricky’s head, and he was forced to the floor. Kendall was on the point of running, but, before she’d taken a step, she was aggressively grabbed by another man behind the one who attacked Ricky. He had a hold of her hair and pulled it so tightly she winced. He held her face away from his, so she couldn’t see who he was.
With such violent force, she was dragged across the sitting room and her face pushed hard into a cushion on the sofa. ‘Shut the fuck up!’ he yelled at her.
The ringing in her ears, and the throbbing in her ankle from being dragged across the floor, had Kendall terrified. So many frightening thoughts ran through her mind: were they going to rape her, or kill her? The strong smell of a masculine body odour and the deep, gruff voice told her that her aggressor was a man – a robust and powerful man. Then she heard Ricky shouting. ‘Get off me, you bastard!’
The next sound was a hard thump, followed by more. She could only imagine Ricky’s head being punched against the wall. Her stomach was in knots, and she felt herself bringing up bile. With her eyes bulging in terror, all she could see was the cold leather of the sofa. The heart-wrenching screams coming from Ricky were now mere groans as the pounding sounds were relentless. Each one felt like it was an attack on her. The continual beating from his attacker, clearly out of breath, terrified Kendall. They were killing Ricky. God, how the fuck had all this happened in less than sixty seconds? Now motionless, she could only feel the man’s grip and the thump of her own heartbeat. Not one for praying, she closed her eyes and begged God to help her. But, clearly, God wasn’t listening. As Ricky’s moans died off, it was at that point she went limp. Poor Ricky, the dear sweetheart, with eyes so full of life and a smile that would light up a dark room, was gone like the dousing of flickering flames. If Ricky couldn’t fight them off, then there was not a cat in hell’s chance that she could. She would have to try to talk her way out of it.
‘Please, tell me. What do you want?’
‘Shut the fuck up!’ came the same growl.
Her mind couldn’t think quickly enough; all she could do was wait quietly and hope they would leave soon. Suddenly, the tight grip loosened, but Kendall didn’t move; heavy footsteps approached, and she could sense another man close by.
The man with the deep voice spoke. ‘Leave off, man. What are ya doing?’
Kendall could hear the sound of a zipper being opened, and then reality hit her. In a panic, she tried to turn around, but a heavy hand pushed her head forward, into the sofa. ‘Noooo!’ she screamed, but her face was now forced even further into one of the cushions. She couldn’t get her breath, and the more she struggled, the harder he pushed, until she couldn’t breathe at all. Then, like being pulled from a deep pool, the man allowed her to take a breath, but as she gasped for air, something was shoved in her mouth. She gasped again, but, this time, the contents hit her lungs. Desperate to breathe, she coughed, choked, and gagged. But more powder was being shoved into her mouth, the taste of which was vile. Crying and pleading, she tried to grip the sofa with her nails, as the burning sensation ripped at her lungs.
The intense fear unexpectedly drifted away; incredibly, her body was numb, and she found herself floating. She imagined herself drifting up into the clouds, feeling no pain, and, amazingly, no terror whatsoever. Her body relaxed as her muscles turned to mush. All she could hear were muffled sounds somewhere in the distance. The large hands that ran up inside her thighs felt like butterflies, and her brain couldn’t comprehend what was really taking place. Then the sharp thrust of something large shot up inside her, but she was too numb to feel the pain. She was too weak even to cry out. The rhythmic movement as her body moved back and forth, like a ride on a swing, sent her dizzy. Then it all stopped. Silence and stillness pervaded the room. Unaware of the time – the minutes could have been hours – she lay there until suddenly she felt another object being pushed inside her. This time she did feel the pain; it was like a coiled spring inside her, tearing at her insides, burning and aching, as she was pushed up the sofa with such surging force, and yet she still felt too weak to fight back. The dim light from the side lamp was now just a pinprick of gold until everything went completely black. She was out cold – in the land of the clouds.
***
Mike had crashed out in the lounge. Hearing the sound of a door slamming, his eyes opened to see Eric enter the room. He was surprised to see his brother as he’d assumed it would be Ricky returning from his night out by now. ‘Where did you go, Eric?’
‘You were asleep, so I popped out to get some fags.’
Mike looked up at the clock. ‘’Ere, it’s one o’clock. Fuck! Ricky was supposed to be home by now.’
‘He’s all right. He’s probably banging his new bird.’
Mike initially ignored his comment. He went into the kitchen and started to load the dishwasher.
‘Eric, I don’t think my Ricky is like that, ya know. The boy’s a decent lad, bless him, and he treats people with respect, especially women.’
Eric gave a dramatic sigh. ‘Don’t put him on a pedestal just yet, Mike, because in all honesty, you don’t even know the boy.’
That comment was like a red rag to a bull. Mike had had enough and was ready to lay into Eric.
‘Don’t you fucking dare tell me I don’t know my own son. My boy is a decent fella. He’s a fucking good kid. If you had kids of your own then you would know the fucking difference, so shut ya mouth!’
‘All I’m saying, Mike, is that you think the sun shines out of Ricky’s arse, as if he’s some god or something.’
‘You need to be more careful what ya say about my son.’
‘He’s only been in your life for a few weeks, so you don’t know him at all really, do ya?’
Gripping his fists, Mike used all his might to hold down his temper.
‘Actually, the sun does shine outta his arse, and if I say me boy has a fucking halo around his head, then he has a fucking halo. I know my son. He’s the same kid as he was the last day I saw him all those years ago, and I won’t let anyone, brother or not, tell me a fucking thing about me own boy. I suggest you leave before I give you another hiding like the last one I gave you when you overstepped the mark regarding my son. Message received?’
Eric grabbed his phone and marched towards the door. But before he left, he turned, and with a spiteful expression, he spat, ‘I was different back then, Mike, living in your fucking shadow, but I shouldn’t think you’d be able to put me on my arse again. I ain’t the same. I’ve lived a life on the outside while you were locked up. Let’s hope it never comes to a war between us because I really wouldn’t wanna hurt you.’
Mike’s temper was rising. ‘A war? A war? You think you could handle me? Yeah, is that right, Eric? Do you seriously think you could have it out with me?’ With each word, his voice became steadily louder.
‘Don’t push your luck, Mike. You’ve underestimated me for far too fucking long. You may think you have it all – the birds, the respect – but let me tell you something, shall
I? Your name went down the toilet while you were away. You were only a Face years ago, and a lot has changed. It ain’t all about fighting anymore. It’s a different world out there, and I’ll tell you something else while I’m here. You need to get real. The game has moved on, and you, dear brother, have been left behind along with Willie Ritz, Ted Stafford, and that smart arse, Lou Baker.’
Hearing those words was tipping Mike over the edge. So fucked up in his head, listening to his brother pouring out all that shit about him and Ricky – it felt like what it was, a personal attack on them both – Mike couldn’t stop himself. ‘If that’s the case, then why do the fucking Filth want the men and me to fucking clean up the streets if I’m such an ’as been, eh?’
The second the words left his mouth, he knew he couldn’t take them back: he’d let the cat out of the bag. He and the boys had made a pledge not to tell Eric because he needed to earn their trust before they’d let him back in the firm. Eric had bailed out when the shit hit the fan, and he’d stayed away when Mike needed him the most. So it was decided Eric could only rejoin the firm once they’d rebuilt that relationship.
Surprisingly, Eric didn’t look shocked or annoyed; he just gave Mike a final look up and down, smirked, and slammed the door behind him.
Still seething, Mike searched for his phone; he needed at least to be sure that Ricky was safe.
The phone rang repeatedly. Mike sighed and paced the floor. He called once more, but there was still no answer.
His mind now in a panic, he called Arty. The phone rang three times before a sleepy voice answered. ‘Mike? What’s up?’
‘Art, this bird that Ricky’s gone out with. Where does she live? Only, Ricky ain’t come home.’
Arty sat up straight, cleared his voice, and blinked a few times. ‘Er, I dunno where she lives but she works in the Daylight. She’s the barmaid there. Kendall, her name is. Mike, I wouldn’t worry too much. I’m sure he’s fine.’