by KERRY BARNES
Still reeling, Rebecca directed her anger towards Lance. ‘Who the hell do you think you are, just walking in here?’
Standing six foot six with broad shoulders and a thick chest, Kendall’s father studied them like an interested bystander would a road rage incident. He didn’t answer right away, merely absorbing his surroundings, and drinking in Alastair’s smug demeanour.
‘Well?’ spat Rebecca.
Lance turned to face her. He was quite surprised to see that the woman who was once so attractive and unbelievably feminine had now become decidedly ugly and manly. Her solid waist and dowdy clothes, along with her shorter hair, did her no favours at all. She had gone from being a gentle and slim girl who, had she been older, could easily have been a product of the flower power movement, with not a care in the world, to some tyrant with a massive chip on her shoulder. She so reminded him of his old schoolmistress.
‘I believe I’ve every right to walk into this house. Remember, I still bloody well own half of it.’
‘That will change pretty soon,’ she mumbled under her breath. ‘What do you want?’
Relaxing his shoulders, he massaged the back of his neck. ‘I want to know if you’ve made arrangements for Kendall’s funeral?’
Her sudden fury subsided as quickly as it had begun; she’d been so caught up with everything that she’d failed to contact Lance and discuss the details. ‘Yes, of course I have. It’s next week on Thursday.’
Lance lifted his chin. ‘Nice of you to inform me!’
‘Well, I would have told you, but—’
‘Told me? What do you mean told me? I’m not a long-lost relation, Rebecca, I was her bloody father!’
His cold and controlling tone had her riled up again and she instantly started shouting without allowing her brain to engage first gear. ‘Father? If it weren’t for you, she’d still be alive now, you bastard. You talked her into moving out of here into one of your flea-ridden flats. If you had just stayed away . . . My God, she would still be here.’
Lance’s characteristic smirk followed by the false laugh had Rebecca spitting feathers. ‘Get out, Lance. Just get out and stay the fuck away!’
‘I really thought you were just a puppet, you know that? I thought Alastair had his claws into you, pulling a few of your strings, and your father and that twat of a brother of yours were pulling the other ones.’ He stepped back and looked her up and down. ‘I guess I was wrong, though. You are a complete Punch and Judy act all of your own making. Before I leave, I want you to know that unless you pay me half of my assets, which I’ve only allowed you to hang on to because it was the roof over my daughter’s head, I’ll take you to court. I want the house either on the market or the money transferred to my account, PDQ. The cottage in Wales I also want sold. I’ll be at the funeral, so best you be upstanding in front of the press, because if any snide remarks come my way, I’ll let the whole media circus create a full-length feature film all about you!’ he spat.
He turned to walk away, but as he reached the kitchen door, he spun back. ‘Oh, and for your information, Kendall asked me for a place to stay. I didn’t want her to leave here, but she was insistent, and you know why, don’t you? It’s because she couldn’t stand you anymore.’ His eyes flicked across to Alastair. ‘Or you!’
With that, he marched ahead to the front door, followed by Poppy. As he pulled the door open, she caught his arm. ‘Um, can I ask you something?’
He stopped dead and faced her, his anger clearly shown by those hooded eyes. ‘What?’
‘Kendall? Was she happy in that flat before she . . . ?’ Her eyes brimmed with tears.
Lance immediately felt the girl’s sorrow. She was Kendall’s younger sister; he didn’t know if they were close, but she was still a sibling. ‘Yeah, she was. She got a job in the pub across the road. The landlord said she was a really good girl. All the customers loved her.’ He suddenly cupped her cheek, noticing for the first time that it was badly inflamed. So words had been said before my arrival, he thought. ‘She didn’t leave because of you or your twin sister, you know. She really cared about you two.’
A fat tear followed the contours of her nose and her eyes widened, like a young child’s. Just for a moment, the anger left him, and Lance felt himself soften.
‘Can I ask another question?’
Lance nodded. ‘Of course. Go on.’
‘Why did my mother break up with you?’
Lance raised an eyebrow and stared at the inquisitive eyes. She was a perceptive little thing. ‘I was away on tour a lot of the time, so I guess she got lonely.’
‘What? Were you a performer, then, in a band or something?’
The idea lightened his mood. A soft chuckle left his lips. ‘No, no. I was on duty in Afghanistan.’
‘Oh, sorry to ask, and I’m also sorry Mother didn’t keep you informed about the funeral. I’ll make sure she does from now on.’
Touched by her refreshing honesty, he smiled again at her and left. Poppy leaned against the front door, thinking about the big man who she’d only ever seen in photos. She realized that her mother was a liar, an adulterer, and a selfish woman. She had known that in part all along, but now Lance had just confirmed it.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Eric knocked hard at Zara’s front door. She noticed from the camera he was vexed. She swore under her breath and turned her computer screen off. He was like a bloody dog with a bone: he just wouldn’t let go. She would have to tell him once and for all that she was more than happy to be back at home. It had been very kind of him to allow her to stay at his house for a couple of days, but, really, she didn’t like how familiar he had become; he acted as though there was more between them than there was. Then there was Mike, and if in the future there was to be any chance of a reconciliation, then it wouldn’t look good if Eric exaggerated the point that her stay was anything more than friendship.
She opened the door and gave him her most sickly, sweet smile. ‘Hello, Eric. So, what can I do for you?’
He looked past her and down the hallway before his eyes met hers. ‘Look, have I upset you in any way? You just upped and left the minute I was out of the house, and I haven’t seen you since. I’ve called a few times, but, obviously, there was no answer. What’s going on?’ He looked over her shoulder again.
She made no effort to step aside and invite him in; instead, she just smiled again. ‘Oh, nothing’s going on. It was good of you to let me stay at your house, but it was just a temporary arrangement, wasn’t it? I just needed to be sure that I wouldn’t have to face a load of awkward questions from the police. It looks, though, as it turns out, Jackie hasn’t pressed any charges.’
Looking flustered and agitated, Eric said, ‘How d’ya know that?’
‘Mike told me.’
‘When did you speak with Mike? I thought you two were . . . ’ He knew he sounded too eager. ‘I just assumed you weren’t talking.’
‘Yes, well. Look, I’m pretty busy at the moment, so do you mind if we talk later? I’ve a lot to do.’
Eric fidgeted on the spot. ‘Why don’t you let me help?’
She inclined her head and frowned. ‘I’m not doing housework, Eric. I’m sorting out business.’ Her tone was firm and cold.
Not taking the hint, Eric went on to say, ‘Yes, but I can help, Zara. I ain’t a stranger to business. Christ, I run my own well enough.’
‘Yes, but I don’t need your help. And, Eric, I don’t mix business with pleasure. I’m sure you mean well, but I like to handle stuff my own way. It’s not as if I’ve asked for your help, is it?’
Eric leaned against the wall with one arm and shook his head. ‘Well, you certainly needed it in the past. Anyway, what’s so special about the Lanigans?’
Now annoyed at his mocking attitude, Zara gave a false laugh. ‘You’re partly right. Obviously, I’m grateful for everything you did to secure my release. Without your help and your family’s, I don’t know what my future would have been. But the Lanigans are
my business partners and still are . . . Look, I’m sorry, but now I’ve made myself clear enough regarding the Lanigans, I would prefer it from now on if you just kept out of my affairs entirely. Sorry, if that sounds ungrateful for your concern earlier, but I need to get my life back on track.’
The thought of Neil Lanigan sucking up to Zara made Eric seethe with anger.
It was the age-old problem with Eric, and if his mum had been a fly on the wall at this point, she would have predicted what would happen next. In fact, she would have been spot-on.
Without carefully considering what he was about to say, the words were fired faster than an AK47 on full auto, and his fist bashed the doorframe, as he shouted, ‘What the fuck is it with you and him, eh?’
Zara’s face went almost white with shock at this outburst. Unlike Eric’s family, she’d never been on the receiving end of one of Eric’s raging fits. Nevertheless, although stunned by what he’d said and the manner in which he’d said it, she had no intention of backing off.
She viciously retorted, ‘Mind your own fucking business, Eric. For Christ’s sake, stop acting like a jealous kid. I owe you fuck all. You’re Mike’s little brother and that’s it. It’s nothing fucking more than that. So back off, will ya?’
Those words ‘Mike’s little brother’ were like a knife being twisted in his gut. His eyes widened, and the whites turned dark with anger. Unexpectedly, he grabbed her shoulder to pull her close. ‘What about me? You know I like you, Zara, so don’t play the dumb bitch!’
‘Get off me, Eric!’
He leaned closer and grabbed her, this time with both hands. ‘Look at me, Zara, just look at me! I’m more man than that fucking Neil Lanigan and especially my own two-timing brother. What is it with you, eh? You only want what you can’t have!’ he told her bitterly.
‘I said, let go of me!’
‘No, Zara, I won’t, not until you tell me you care about me too, that I mean something to you.’
She looked at his face, an inch away from her own and was staggered to see that although there were subtle differences between him and his brother, they were more than enough for her to find him gross. The look in Mike’s eyes was so different: they were open and caring. And Mike’s rugged skin and that controlled expression of his were all the things she loved about him. Eric wasn’t blessed with any of Mike’s physical attributes or his personal qualities. In fact, when she really looked at the man standing before her, she wondered how it could be that Eric had ever been born a Regan. Arthur, Gloria, and Mike were the epitome of a caring family. The problem was that Eric had none of their special qualities and probably never would.
Without warning, he forcibly kissed her, ignoring the fact that she was desperately trying to pull away.
‘For the last fucking time, Eric, get off me!’ She tried to move her face away, repulsed by his advances.
He didn’t listen but attempted to kiss her neck, leaning closer.
An instant wave of fear pushed Zara to lift her arms in defence; however, she was wearing her black glove. As her hand came up to drive him away, the blades caught his wrist and instantly sliced through the skin and into the bone.
Blood shot out in a spray, covering her cheek. At once, Eric let her go, jumping back in shock. He looked up from his wrist in horror at seeing the blood on her motionless face. ‘What the fuck? Oh my God! Why did you do that?’
She just stared at him, a glacial expression transforming her normally lovely facial features.
‘You shouldn’t have put your hands on me. You, Eric Regan, are no one to me. Never touch me again, or I’ll kill you.’
The words were said slowly but with so much venom that for a moment Eric just looked perplexed. But his response was shockingly cruel.
‘You fucking psychopath! You no-good ugly whore! Go on, then. Go and fuck your Irish wankers. I hope you get raped and shot next time,’ he yelled, as he clutched tightly the wound that was pissing claret.
Like a bolt through the head, she realized what he’d just said.
‘Hey! What do you mean by “next time”?’
But Eric was now out of earshot, making his way back to the car; he needed to get the deep cut stitched up or he would pass out. He couldn’t stop the blood. He couldn’t even think straight, and he wasn’t into listening anymore. He had to get away and get fixed up.
As soon as she slammed her front door shut, she slumped to the floor and cried and cried. Her world was going mad. Nothing seemed to make sense. When it came down to it, who did she have on her side? She’d lost Izzy, her much loved dad. Her mum had passed away years ago; the death was questionable, and although she was never told the facts, she did believe her mother was murdered Russian-style. And her fiancé . . . well, where was that relationship going, if anywhere? She was alone, when it came down to it, except for Neil and Davey, who, by rights, were just her business partners. As the tears streamed down her face, she looked at the blood on the glove, which she tried to pull off. She’d certainly never meant to hurt Eric; she would never have done it, no way, but she’d forgotten the glove was on her prosthetic. Suddenly, she felt sick. What if she’d missed his arm and caught his neck? Christ, she thought, I could have killed him.
Finally, she pulled the glove off and threw it down the hallway. The blade in the glove replaced some of the strength she felt was missing with only having one hand. As she looked at her prosthetic, she sighed. Really, this should be enough. Why she’d needed to add blades to the glove was ridiculous. However, her perceived weakness had made her vulnerable. She blinked back the tears, wiped her wet cheeks, and picked up the glove. Just then, there was a knock at the door.
‘Zara, it’s me, Victor. Are you okay, love?’ he called out.
Wiping the tears that had flooded her face, she opened the door. The sheer size of the man, taking up the entire doorframe, blocked out the sun’s rays.
‘Come in.’
‘Are you okay, love? Only I saw that mate of yours, Eric, flying down the drive like a looney-tunes. He almost hit my cab.’
Zara saw the expression of concern on Victor’s face and gave an almighty sigh. ‘Yes. I slit his wrist for him.’
Victor tugged her shoulder before she walked off. ‘You did what?’
She sighed once more. ‘I slit his wrist open. He’s probably gone to get it stitched up.’
‘He didn’t hurt you, though, did he?’ His eyes scanned her body before they settled on her face. ‘That’s not your blood, babe, is it?’
She touched her cheek and felt the sickly remnants of Eric’s claret. ‘No, it’s his.’ She shook her head. ‘No, he didn’t hurt me. It was an accident, I suppose. Anyway, come through, Victor. I was hoping you would arrive soon. I need to tell you about an earlier incident at the restaurant. We got ambushed. The Lanigans and I were having a meeting at Antonio’s, but before it had even got underway, two carloads of men turned up, ready for a serious fight.’
Victor’s expression was one of shock. ‘What? What happened? You didn’t get hurt, did you?’
‘No, not at all. Neil popped his internal stitches, but that’s about it. As for the thugs who came to take us on, though, they were pretty well fucked up. The stupid bastards. As if a bunch of hooligans could even think they could take on the Lanigans? Anyway, they won’t fuck with my business. And Antonio is going to open as usual.’
‘So what happened to this gang? Did you have them killed?’
‘I couldn’t say what happened to them, but they took a serious bashing. Anyway—’
Before she could change the subject, Victor was on to her again. ‘If you let them go, they’ll come back, ya know. I tell ya, Zara, if it’s this gang, they ain’t goin’ to give up, love. They’ve too much to lose.’
Of course, he was right, she thought. Accordingly, she dropped her guard. ‘No, Victor, they ain’t coming back. However, under extreme duress, they did say they were working for a guy called the Governor, a right evil bastard, it seems.’
Victor stepped back and rubbed his chin in deep thought. ‘I’ve heard about this bloke, and by all accounts, he’s one dangerous man. No one knows his real name, but I’ve been told some of the toerags call him the Devil. Did you get any more information outta those fellas?’
But Zara’s mind was back on Eric. She felt so guilty and hoped that he was okay. A thought entered her head that perhaps she should call Mike.
‘Er, sorry. What did you say?’
‘Those fellas. Did you find out anything else about this Governor bloke?’
‘No, I didn’t, I’m afraid. All I know is that he’s the main man who heads this gang or rather rules them with an iron rod, using threats that include their families. And I feel a touch insulted by him calling himself the Governor and people referring to him as the Devil. After all, it was my father who ran that manor and he was called the Devil. If I ever get to meet the bastard, I’ll take that fucking title from him. If he thinks he’ll live by that name, then he’d better be prepared to die by it.’
Victor gave her a knowing smile. ‘Just be careful, little lady. He does sound like a nutcase.’
She turned to face him and looked him squarely in the eyes. ‘And, Victor, what makes you think that I’m not?’
Unperturbed by that question, he teased, ‘And how do you propose to find this guy?’
She didn’t rise to the bait; instead, she replied, ‘I’ll do what my dad would’ve done. I’ll play him at his own game. No doubt there’ll be someone special in his life, his Achilles’ heel. All I need to do is to find out who it is. So, if he uses intimidation by means of holding a knife to an innocent child or by burning down a family home, then he’ll just learn what it’s like to have the same thing happen to him. I play fair, but trust me, Victor, I’ll stoop to his level – lower even – if I have to. So, what I want you to do, if you can, is to find out who this bloke is and if he has a family or someone close to his heart.’