by KERRY BARNES
Her first thought was that Alastair had left and taken the girls with him. With her hands shaking, she rang him on his mobile, but it just went to voicemail. When she called Poppy’s number next, she could hear her daughter’s phone ringing in her bedroom. Her nerves were now seriously on edge and her trepidation wasn’t lessened when she tried Brooke’s number and this one too went straight to voicemail.
The bastard! He had done it. All those times he’d threatened to leave. How could he do this to her? She’d given him whatever he wanted – always – but now he’d turned his back on her and walked out. Sitting on her bed with her face in her hands, she cried like a baby.
***
The witching hour. Zara awoke to feel as though she’d slept on concrete slabs; her body ached all over. Tossing and turning, her mind tried to unravel the mess. She hadn’t mentioned her concerns to Neil or anyone. It was something she would normally never do. Her father had taught her that. ‘Whenever things are going arse-up,’ he would say, ‘keep your thoughts to yourself, until you are sure you know what to do next.’ It had proved time and time again to be the right course of action. She had to be sure of her conclusion – Eric, in some way, was involved in the plot to take her down. She was pretty sure of that. Proving it, though, might be challenging.
The bandaged wrist, the strong aftershave, and the fact that the man was huge, it all pointed to him. Yet why would he do this to her? Why, in fact, would he want to do this to her? Well, in all honesty she did have a clue! There was the small matter of her kicking his advances into touch and slicing his wrist. But was he trying to worm his way into her affections or were his overtures simply a means to discover how her business ticked so that he could gradually take it down and replace it with this evil shit drug called Flakka?
Desperate to rationalize the situation, she decided to call the only man right now she could trust – Victor. If her father had once confided in the man and shared his best brandy and his darkest secrets, then Victor was her answer.
Lighting up a cigarette, Zara was about to make herself an espresso when the doorbell rang. She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart beating fast, hoping it wasn’t Eric. The security monitor showed it was Victor. ‘Speak of the devil!’ she said under her breath. Stubbing the cigarette out in the sink, she hurried to the front door to let him in.
‘I’m so pleased to see you, Victor. Come through. I’m just making some coffee. We need to talk.’
Victor leaned against the doorframe in the kitchen, with almost no room to spare. ‘So, what’s this all about, Zara? Are you okay, love? Ya look peaky.’
She poured another espresso and handed him the cup. ‘Last night, Antonio’s was ambushed again. Well, some men tried to make an attack, but they didn’t get far. But I think I know who one of the men was.’
Victor nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Eric Regan!’ she exclaimed.
Casually, he took a sip of his drink. ‘I hope you don’t mind me being kinda upfront with you. I mean, I know I’m on ya payroll, but ya dad always confided in me, and I guess it’s a natural reaction, but let me know if I step outta line.’
‘No, Victor, please. I need as much help as I can get. Do carry on.’
‘If you recall, I said he was up to something. When I followed him, remember, he was outside the restaurant reading that notice. See, Zara, you need to remember hell is empty, all the devils are here, so watch ya back.’
She smiled. ‘That’s another one of my dad’s sayings.’
‘Yes, I know. It’s a common saying. Shakespeare’s, I think. Anyway, blood is thicker than water. I know you had a thing with this Mike Regan, but let me warn you, Zara. Girlfriends come and go, but brothers will always stick together.’
She looked at his face and wondered if he was being sarcastic or whether he was treating her as a silly lovesick woman, which she most certainly was not. ‘Mike isn’t like that. He would go mental if he knew.’
Victor stood up straight as if he was about to make a pronouncement. ‘Zara, you said I could be frank, so, as an older man, I can see right through situations. I’m not clouded by emotion, and I hate to tell ya this, but you are at the moment.’
Irritated by his words, she spat back, ‘I’m no idiot. Far from it!’
He gave her an exasperated look. ‘No, Christ, I didn’t mean it like that, love. But, Zara, I’m surprised that you seem to underestimate this Regan family. Eric is a sneaky bastard, and I know he is up to something. As for Mike, how did he get out of prison so early? And, more to the point, if you are so close, why did he not tell you? Do you even know what Mike’s been up to?’
Zara felt her hand go clammy and an uneasy sensation knotted her insides. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the worktop, she quickly lit one and blew smoke up at the ceiling. He was telling her truths that if she were being honest with herself, she knew all along: she just hadn’t wanted to confront them. It was too painful. But then her mind cast back to the conversation with Ricky recently.
‘Hold on, I think I do know what Mike’s been up to. Ricky told me.’
Victor frowned. ‘Ricky told you what?’
‘I know Ricky’s not fully recovered, but he did say that Mike was working for the police. At first, I was stunned but then I thought perhaps he may be confused.’
Victor stared off into nothing before he snapped back to face Zara. ‘No way. That just doesn’t make sense. Mike Regan working for the Filth after serving a lump inside? No. That’s a cock-and-bull story, surely?’
Zara placed her cup on the side and sighed. She realized now that Victor wasn’t treating her like a kid. This firmness was probably how he used to converse with her father. She had to rein in her annoyance and listen to the man.
‘I wish I could just get to the bottom of it. I hate more than anything this uneasy feeling and uncertainty. But what about Ricky? Why would the Regans hurt their own flesh and blood if it’s them behind all this? . . . No, sorry, I just can’t believe it.’
Victor nodded. ‘Whoa! Stop! I agree, from what you told me a while ago what happened to Ricky was not Mike’s doing. Mike obviously worships his son, so you have a point, love. But again, from what you’ve said, I wonder if Eric is working alone or perhaps the culprit is one of the Lanigans. I tell ya, Zara, greed is a huge motivator. Your father would have told you that. If any of the Regans are behind this drug, then they will have enemies, won’t they? An enemy who would try to bring the Regans down by hurting someone they value. Think about it, Zara.’
His reasoning stuck in her throat, yet she was unable even to consider the obvious.
‘I have no idea who would have done that to Ricky, but what I do know is Mike won’t let them get away with it, that’s for sure . . . And neither would I, if I found out who did it.’
‘Zara, do you trust me?’ he asked confidently.
She took a deep breath, stubbed her cigarette out in the vintage bronze ashtray, and smiled up at him. ‘Yes, I guess I do. If my father did, and he was no fool, then there’s no reason for me not to trust you, is there?’
‘Good, because I liked your father a lot, and for his sake, I want to make sure you’re not being mugged off. Right now, though, I believe you are. I know what you’ve been through makes you a little susceptible and in a frame of mind that is eager to solidify friendships, but they have to be based on trust. You’re too trusting for your own good, my love.’
Zara inclined her head and leaned with her hand on her hip. ‘Excuse me?’
‘When you were locked up for all those years, what did the Lanigans do to find you?’
Zara really didn’t want to have this conversation because although Victor was her father’s good friend, she looked to the Lanigans as family. They respected her, didn’t they? But she had to consider the question that was posed to her, to be objective. However, it seemed as if her brain now had two voices: one was doubt and the other was confusion.
‘No, Victor, you have that all wrong. Neil took a knife
defending my restaurant. And a week later, I was there when they ambushed the place. Neil pushed me into the ladies’ toilets to protect me. They—’
Victor held his hand up to stop her continuing. ‘He never fought for your business, he was stabbed outside the restaurant. You once told me yourself. No one saw or heard anything. If they’d been doing their job properly, the businesses would never have been closed down, and as for the men having to return to Ireland, don’t you think that’s a load of bullshit? Seriously, they aren’t that stupid, and I didn’t think you were either.’
‘No, Victor, I don’t think they would do that to me.’ But she knew she didn’t sound very convincing.
He stepped forward and placed his hand on her shoulder. ‘Your father would have seen right through them. I know he thought you were ready to take over, but, Zara, for your father’s sake, you need to listen to me, darling.’
His sympathetic words irritated her. She shrugged his hand away. Turning to pour herself another coffee, she decided to light another cigarette first. She needed time to think.
‘Five years, Zara, five fucking years you were locked up. Seriously, neither the Regans nor the Lanigans sussed out that it was your own brother who’d betrayed you. Well, whether you like it or not, you need to face facts because if it was Mike Regan who had gone missing, you would have found him, wouldn’t you? I mean, your own brother was pushed out of the business, but there he was, living in this mansion of a house, and no one thought to look at him. Seriously, if I’d been searching for you, this home is the first place I would have come to, and Ismail would have been at the top of my list of suspects.’
Unexpectedly, Zara burst into tears. He had just verbalized so succinctly all those haunting thoughts she assumed she’d buried many years ago. After all that time spent locked away and hidden in the basement, she’d struggled to understand why the Lanigans hadn’t properly checked out her brother. Of course, she would have. He would have been in for a fortune eventually. Izzy had passed the business over to her and virtually ignored Ismail in the will; it was common knowledge and not a decision that everyone in her Jewish community felt was fair.
‘Hey, come on,’ whispered Victor, as he put his arms around her and pulled her close. ‘You’ve been through a lot, and it’s okay to cry, but you have to be objective. The Lanigans have always had a reputation, and I, for the life of me, couldn’t understand why they’d still put money into your accounts when you were off the scene and presumed dead.’
She stopped crying and wiped her nose with her sleeve before she pulled away from him. ‘Well, that goes to show they cared and lived in hope. Surely, that’s not the hallmark of a traitor, is it?’
A wicked, sarcastic grin appeared on his face. ‘Stop being naive, Zara. From everything you’ve told me lately, I can look at things as an outsider. They told you they put fifty per cent of everything into your account but how the hell do you know it was? You need to face facts. You’re worth a lot of money. Certainly, you can buy your muscle, you even own enough businesses to run the manor. But there are other firms out there ready to wipe you out. And another thought. Do you seriously think the Lanigans, who, I admit, are a strong firm, will have you running their operations? Ask yourself why they would? And if you think it’s because you’re friends, then think how your father would respond to that statement. There are no friends in business, and that goes for the Regans too. Things are not adding up, and the question is, are the Regans involved with this new drug?’
She looked through him with a fierce, cold stare. ‘No way. I can’t believe that.’
Victor shook his head. ‘Christ, Zara, men like Eric Regan are only after earning money, and so are the Lanigans. Do you honestly think they care where or how they earn it, just as long as they do? The world has changed a lot in five years, darling. Cocaine is drying up, the dealers are trading the newer drugs, and the more ruthless firms are selling it.’
‘I just can’t get my head around it. It all seems so fucked up.’
‘I can only give ya my views. You did say I could be open. Zara, whatever the truth is, ya have me, love. I ain’t going anywhere, and, like I said before, I’ll look out for ya, for your father’s sake. I owe him that much. I’m just repaying him the favour.’
The confidence in the man had grown over the last few weeks, and Zara could see why her father had respected him so much. He had a good head on his shoulders and was brave enough to air his concerns, knowing how close she was to the Lanigans and the Regans. She was now beginning to question the people around her, including Mike. Whatever he was doing, he’d absolutely no intention of revealing it to her.
Victor’s phone was vibrating, and he took it out of his trouser pocket. ‘Right, I have to go back. The old lady up the road from me needs a taxi to get to the shops, bless her heart. She’s still too scared to walk the streets. But, listen, if Eric or Mike turn up here, make sure you don’t let either of them in. I don’t know what they’ll do next, but it won’t be pretty, will it?’
***
She held in the tears as the thud from his heavy boots on the age-old parquet flooring echoed along the entrance hall. As the door closed behind him, she slid to the floor. Pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples, she broke into uncontrollable sobs. The thought of Mike – of all people – keeping secrets from her, it seemed like a betrayal. It was enough for her to rip out her own heart.
That was the last thing she needed. ‘Jesus, Dad, why did you leave it all to me?’
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Ricky sat up and laughed at the jokes that Arty and Liam had sent him; the lads had been brilliant in keeping his spirits high.
The last text had said: See you in a minute. Ricky frowned, and then, there in the doorway, Arty stood in fits of laughter, holding a teddy, with the caption ‘Get well soon’, which he aimed at Ricky’s head.
‘Stop milking it!’ he teased.
Liam came bowling in behind and sat awkwardly on the bed. ‘’Ere, have ya seen the bird in the dayroom? Cor, she’s a right tasty little number.’
Ricky’s smile drooped at that question. ‘I know you’re trying to cheer me up, but I feel so bad about Kendall.’
Arty looked down. ‘Er . . . yeah, sorry, mate.’
Liam, the less conscious of the two, and ignoring the sullen mood, said, ‘She might need cheering up. Poor cow. She looks like she’s taken a clump around the head. Her face has a fat plaster on it, and I think she might have broken her ankle.’
‘I ain’t seen her yet,’ Ricky said, feeling sorry for himself. ‘I’ve been stuck in here. The doctor reckons I won’t be out until the end of the week now. Something about fluid on the brain.’
Liam laughed. ‘Cheer up, mate. That’s good news. At least they think you have one, then!’
Ricky joined in the laughter at that quip. ‘Come on, boys, help me up. Let’s go and meet this bird, ’cos if I’m in here for a few days, I might have someone to talk to, eh?’
With no finesse, both Arty and Liam grabbed Ricky’s arms and pulled him to his feet.
Liam joked again. ‘Shall I get ya a Zimmer frame?’
Ricky punched him on the arm. ‘Fuck off.’ He chuckled.
Carefully, Ricky steadied his legs and began by shuffling along.
Liam still had the giggles. ‘Are you sure about that Zimmer frame, Grandad?’
Arty shot him a look that said, ‘Reel your neck in,’ to which Liam just pursed his lips and smiled.
The dayroom was a short walk along the corridor. Although small, it was pleasant, with bright lemon walls and green blinds, and the hospital had furnished it with a few cushioned plastic chairs, a large wall-mounted TV, and a few magazines. Ricky was the first to enter and paused in the doorway. They weren’t kidding then, he thought.
‘Hi,’ said Ricky, as Liam pushed him forward.
The blonde slowly turned her head away from watching The Jeremy Kyle Show. She tried to smile, but her cheek was still sore.
‘
Mind if we join ya?’ asked Ricky.
She looked at the three lads and was quite taken with how handsome two of them were; she was intrigued, though, by the cheeky grin on the ugly lad’s face.
‘It’s a free country, I suppose,’ was all she could muster.
Ricky tried to walk without his shuffle and only just made it to one of the chairs, where he slid down and caught his breath.
‘Ricky, ya wanna a drink? Some chocolate?’ asked Arty.
A full smile lit up his face. ‘Yeah. I’ll have a cold beer or a Tango and a Snickers bar.’ He looked at the girl. ‘Fancy a cold juice and some chocolate?’
She smiled at him then and nodded. Her curiosity and interest piqued at the offer of refreshments and by seeing people of her own age.
Arty peered at Ricky and raised his brow. Ricky saw the wink and chuckled again quietly.
Liam was giggling like a kid as he pushed Arty back out of the door so Ricky could have some privacy.
‘I’m Ricky, and you are?’
The girl sighed. ‘I’m Poppy but . . . er . . . please, don’t tell anyone, will you? They don’t know my name. They think I’m still concussed. And that’s what I want them to think. But why they’ve stuck me in front of a bloody telly, if that’s the case, is beyond me.’
Now curious, Ricky leaned closer and looked around. ‘Why are ya pretending you’re concussed? Is someone after ya, babe? Is it ya ol’ man?’
Her eyes clouded over. ‘No, a lot worse. Anyway, please . . . ’
Ricky shook his head as he studied her worried expression. ‘My lips are sealed, so don’t worry yaself. Are you okay, though? Was it just concussion?’