Raven

by Heather Atkinson

  “Then I’m not interested and don’t forget, you don’t own me and I won’t allow you to order me about.”

  “Do you want another enemy to add to the long fucking list?”

  “I have a lot to do and this is wasting my time.”

  “You walk out that door and we’re done. You’re on your own.”

  “Just how I like it,” she said before leaving, slamming the door shut behind her.

  She took in a few deep breaths, feeling as though the sword of Damocles was hanging over her.

  Sensing someone watching her, she looked across the busy pub to the bar where the two goons she’d beaten up were hanging about, their bruises that unappealing yellow colour, indicating they were healing. With them stood a tall, thin man with a scar cutting through the right side of his lower lip, pulling it down slightly, a memento from a knife fight when he was a teenager, a fight he won after stabbing his rival in the neck. His beady dark eyes narrowed at her, the large, spindly hand gripping the pint glass tightening around it. Dexter Aleksandrov was Marcus’s second-in-command. His name inspired terror in the local underworld. He was one reason why Marcus had remained on top for so long. His reputation for brutal, prolonged torture was infamous, he could keep his selected victim alive for days in a perpetual state of agony before giving them a long, excruciating death. He revelled in pain and suffering. Even those who had no idea who he was sensed the wrongness about him, instinctively moving away from him if he got too close. Being around him was like being around a void. He was completely unnatural. It said a lot for him that Marcus didn’t use him to do his hits because he was too bloody, the bodies of the victims of his attentions making experienced police officers throw up. Not good when you wanted something done low-key.

  As this creature looked at her, his phone burst into life. Through the door to his office, Raven heard Marcus talking. The coincidence was too great. It was a shame she couldn’t hear what Marcus was saying. Judging by Dexter’s expression, it wasn’t good because his eyes remained riveted on her as she casually meandered through the bar towards the door, his twisted lips curling into a satisfied smile. He was quietly murmuring into the handset, too quiet for her to overhear. Although he was of Russian descent, his accent was pure Yorkshire.

  There were other members of the city’s underworld here and whereas before she had always been regarded with respect, some of them stared back at her with derision in their eyes, although they didn’t openly mock her, they wouldn’t dare. But it had rankled with a few of them for quite a while that they were afraid of a woman and now they didn’t have to be wary of her anymore because it seemed a man was destroying her. Well she wasn’t going to allow any of them to win. If they thought she was finished they were in for a shock.

  As Raven left the pub she looked back over her shoulder at Dexter, who was still watching her, his lips curled into an amused smile while his cold, reptilian eyes looked dead, as they always did, as though he didn’t feel emotion like the rest of the human race. He made no move to follow her but he didn’t need to. She’d got the message loud and clear. He was coming for her.

  Raven was tempted to return to her home, her sanctuary and lick her wounds. She didn’t like people at the best of times, she found them difficult to deal with but now she wanted nothing to do with any of them. However apathy would only get her killed, so instead she headed over to One Eye’s, relieved to find him home from the hospital, although he was sat on the couch with a blanket over his knees, looking pale and unwell.

  “Are you sure you shouldn’t still be in hospital?” she said, concerned, sitting beside him.

  “The doctor said I’m fine, so who am I to argue?” he replied with a wan smile. “I just need some rest and I’ll be back on my feet. As long as Damon doesn’t cook again.”

  “Shame,” said Damon, leaning back against the fireplace. “I was planning on making steak tartare.”

  “If you do it’ll be tata to my stomach lining,” said One Eye. “Some soup will do. Vegetable soup. Dear God, I don’t think I can eat meat ever again after that horror you served me.”

  “But I’ve no one to practice my cooking skills on,” he whined.

  “I’d say that is only to the benefit of humanity,” he replied, forcing Raven to hide a smile.

  Damon huffed and folded his arms across his chest.

  “You okay?” said Raven when One Eye groaned and shifted in his seat.

  “Fine. After continuously losing all my bodily fluids all day yesterday from both ends everything’s rather tender.”

  “I said I’m sorry,” exclaimed Damon. “Jeez, I don’t know what else you want from me.”

  “Hush now,” said One Eye. “Raven’s here because she needs our help, although I’m not sure what use I can be in my present state.”

  “You heard about what happened last night already?” she said.

  “I got a call from Tiny Tyson,” said Damon. “You know, that really vicious short-arsed bare knuckle boxer? He’s a mate of mine. He heard it from his sister whose ex-boyfriend’s second cousin’s uncle’s son is a mate of one of Terry’s crew.”

  One Eye sighed. “You’re giving me a headache.”

  “As well as arse ache,” he sniggered.

  “It spread around the houses quick enough,” said Raven. “Patrick Bryce is still fighting my corner, although he won’t let that knowledge go public but Marcus has dropped me entirely. He’s also put Dexter on my tail.”

  It worried her that Damon and One Eye both appeared concerned.

  “Oh shit,” said Damon.

  “That’s not what I need to hear right now,” she replied. “Plus no one is going to give me a contract again, not unless I redeem myself in a big, spectacular way.”

  “How are you going to do that?” said Damon.

  “I’m taking your advice on that one Damon. I’m going to kill my rival as brutally as I can.”

  “Excellent,” he smiled.

  “He told me something very interesting last night when we fought,” she continued. “Apparently I already know him and this is his revenge.”

  One Eye’s right eyebrow arched. “Who is he?”

  “That’s the problem, I haven’t a bloody clue. Every time I’ve met him he’s been wearing a disguise and I didn’t recognise his voice. I wondered if you could think of anyone from my life before, when I lived on the streets?” The memory made her shudder but she suppressed it. She’d made herself look weak enough.

  “I’d have to think over that one,” replied One Eye. “It was long ago and there were so many desperate people living rough.”

  “At least I know it can’t be any long lost family, seeing how they’re all dead.” Raven said this matter-of-factly. She couldn’t recall any of her family, except her mother and she’d long ago reconciled herself to being an orphan. One Eye had been the only parent she’d ever needed. “I don’t remember falling out with anyone on the street bad enough for them to do this to me.”

  “We’ll get to the bottom of it. Remember, you’re not alone.”

  She patted his hand. “Thanks.” She took out the small plastic bag containing the strands of her rival’s hair. “I need you to look after this for me. I know they’re no use now but they could be. They belong to my rival.”

  He took the bag from her and nodded. “I’ll put them in my safe.”

  “Thanks, appreciate it,” she said, getting to her feet and heading for the door.

  “You know,” One Eye called after her. “You’re welcome to stay here. You’re too isolated in that house of yours.”

  Raven glanced at Damon, who smiled lasciviously at her and she was decided. She had enough on her plate without fending off his unwanted attentions. “Thanks but I’m fine at home, my security’s good.”

  “It’s the perfect place to hit you.”

  “And I’ll see anyone coming a mile off. There’s nowhere to hide on that moor and I don’t want to bring any trouble to your door.”

  “I cla
ss you as my daughter Raven.” He frowned at his son. “Which makes you her brother, so back off.”

  Once again Damon huffed and pouted.

  “I appreciate the offer but I’ll be fine,” she said.

  She gave them both a tight smile before leaving, looking up and down the street outside One Eye’s house, but no one was in sight. Before getting back in her car she checked the rear seats, which were free of any assassins. She climbed in, careful to lock the doors. How had her life come to this so quickly? It made her head spin. At least she still had the police work to bring in the money but it didn’t pay as well as her private contracts. It was fortunate she had her substantial savings but then again, other than the upkeep of her home, weaponry, paying the bills and the standard things such as food and clothes, she didn’t have anything to spend it on.

  The loneliness of her life struck her hard, the feeling intensified by her present precarious position. Other than One Eye and Damon, there was no one to miss her if her rival or Dexter succeeded in taking her out. Her husband, who she loved ferociously, wouldn’t have a clue if she was murdered.

  Idly she wondered whether she should contact her only friend and fellow bounty hunter, Jules Maguire, for help. Jules owed her after she’d helped rescue her niece from kidnappers. She belonged to a very powerful criminal family in Manchester, she had huge influence, plus she was rock hard. However Raven’s present predicament was so incredibly uncertain and she had no idea what direction the danger was going to come from. She and Jules were good friends, even occasional lovers but Jules had only just recovered from a coma. If anything were to happen to her here she’d have her family after her blood too. On top of that, Jules had finally started a relationship with Mikey Maguire, head of this powerful criminal family. Despite the fact he was her first cousin he was the love of her life and Raven had no wish to spoil her new-found bliss. No, calling in Jules must remain an absolute last resort. She’d handle this like she did everything else. Alone.

  CHAPTER 9

  Raven needed to track down her rival as soon as possible and eliminate him and it seemed the only way she was going to manage that was by going back into her past.

  When she’d been living rough, there had been a particular railway bridge she’d camped under for years, fending off those who’d tried to take her pitch. As it was safer to be in a group, she’d tagged onto a group of four other homeless people - three men and one woman.

  She parked a couple of streets from the bridge and walked the rest of the way, it not being suitable terrain for her car. As she walked a chill descended on her, despite the fact it was quite a warm day, unpleasant memories assailing her as her mind involuntarily drifted back to her teenage years.

  Her name had been a different one then. Her mother, the only close family she’d had, had died when she was fourteen after spending years in and out of mental institutions, killing herself in the hospital she’d been sectioned to. Her stepfather, who she’d got along with tolerably well up until then, changed overnight after her mother passed away. His cuddles and touches became more and more inappropriate, to the point where she was locking her bedroom door every night. This all culminated in him becoming frustrated with her avoiding his attentions, to the extent that he beat her up, putting her in hospital for a week, which was preferable to being abused. There had been no one she could turn to, no other relatives she could stay with or tell what her stepfather was doing. She’d had an uncle and aunt but they’d lived miles away and she’d hardly known them. He’d told the police she’d been assaulted by a couple of teenage boys and they’d been content to believe that, they hadn’t even bothered to ask her about it, her stepfather telling them she wanted to forget all about it and move on with her life.

  As soon as she was well enough she’d stolen away from the hospital one night and ended up living rough on the streets.

  The first few nights had been terrifying. It was the first time in her life she hadn’t been in the company of an adult and she’d realised she hadn’t the first clue how to look after herself. Fortunately she’d decided to runaway in the summer, so the nights were mild, but for the first two days she didn’t eat at all, desperation overriding disgust, forcing her to start rooting through bins. A middle-aged, fellow homeless woman had taken pity on her when she’d found her shivering and starving in a litter-strewn alleyway, wishing death would take her. The woman, whose name was Nettie, had brought her to this very bridge and she and the other three people who had lived there for varying amounts of time became her new family. They’d furnished her with the basics - some more clothes, a sleeping bag, boots, a coat, a scarf and gloves and taught her how to survive on the streets. For two years they’d remained a close unit, looking out for each other, supporting each other, snuggling up to each other for warmth when the weather was at its worst. Fortunately this bridge had always kept them sheltered. Nettie sadly died of pneumonia two years after she’d rescued her from that alleyway and with her passing their little group fell apart, she being the mother hen who had kept them all together. One by one they’d moved on to pastures new, until Raven had been the only one clinging onto the place she called home. This had been the first time she’d got into a physical fight when a couple of transients, seeing what a good spot the bridge was, had decided they were taking it and chucking her out. Raven had surprised herself that day, as well as the man and woman who’d thought she was easy pickings. She’d hammered the shit out of them, fuelled by a rage she hadn’t known she possessed and they’d fled from the bridge, leaving her all alone. For another four months she’d managed to see off all interlopers, developing a reputation for herself as someone not to be messed with. Back then she’d been wild, feral almost, the complete opposite to the woman who now retained tight control over herself at all times. But that control was only a way for her to manage the anger that raged inside her, to live a life without it completely overwhelming her and leading her to do something that would end up putting her in prison or a coffin. It was why her relationship with Aidan was so volatile, because he always managed to unlock those feelings inside her, delve beneath her armour to the lava beneath.

  Then arrived the inevitable day when she came up against someone bigger and harder than herself. Now they wouldn’t have been able to get the drop on her but back then she’d been untrained, winning her fights through sheer brutality, her rage spurring her on. She’d tried her best, but then again she’d had faint hope of winning against three big men. Two days after her seventeenth birthday she’d ended up face down in the mud and dirt, struggling to breathe, her face a mass of blood and swelling. The men had kicked her onto her back and started unfastening her jeans, big, smelly, disgusting men, leering and grabbing at her still-developing body. Unable to move, never mind fight, she’d been forced to lie there, praying it was over quickly.

  A cawing sound had drawn her attention skywards and she’d seen two large ravens circling overhead then One Eye had appeared out of nowhere, hammering the three men, their efforts to defend themselves pathetic to watch. It was the first time she’d seen someone so rigidly in control of themselves, which had enabled One Eye to fight much better than the men, who had been driven by fear and anger. It had been a startling lesson for her and they’d run off, dripping blood.

  One Eye had only been in his mid thirties then, although he’d already had the eye patch and his black shoulder-length hair was just starting to turn grey.

  He’d hurried to her side, kneeling beside her. At first she’d flinched from the hand he raised, until he’d gently rested it on her forehead.

  “Let’s get you to a hospital,” he’d said, lifting her in his arms and carrying her away from the bridge to a car parked at the side of the road. Just before she was put into the back of the car she’d looked up at the sky, but the ravens had gone.

  Raven had no idea where he was taking her or what he was going to do to her. By that time she was past caring. He could have killed her and she wouldn’t have put up a fight. She�
�d had enough of life, which had been full of nothing but disappointment, struggle and pain. But he hadn’t hurt her. In fact he’d driven her straight to hospital, gently lifted her out of the back of the car and carried her into A&E. She’d been taken away on a gurney and hadn’t expected to see One Eye again. However he’d turned up at her bedside the very next day, asking her gentle questions about her life. The police had turned up too and asked more questions than they ever had when her stepfather assaulted her. She gave them a description of the three men but, as she never heard anything again, she assumed they hadn’t found them. She had no problem with that, revenge never was an emotion that burned brightly inside her, she just wanted to forget about it and move on with her life. Besides, she’d been far too concerned by her new benefactor, who seemed to be taking a deep interest in her. He’d revealed to her that his name was in fact Nik. One Eye was a nickname, for obvious reasons, but everyone referred to him by that name and he was happy for them to do so.

  She spent six days in hospital and One Eye had visited every single day, gradually wheedling information out of her about her life. Usually she was so tight-lipped, Nettie being the only person she’d confided in but she felt relaxed with him, safe even. When she asked why he was taking such an interest in her he’d said she deserved a better life.

  The day before she was due to be released from hospital, One Eye visited her again and said she could stay at his house and that he’d help her get back on her feet. He’d brought his eleven year old son, Damon, along with him, the little red-headed boy regarding her with a quizzical look the entire time. She’d wondered if One Eye was some sort of serial killer or pervert but he’d had ample time to hurt her when he’d rescued her from under the bridge and he hadn’t. With nowhere else to go and winter drawing in, she’d decided to take a chance on him. He’d told the hospital staff he was her uncle and they’d just accepted that, even though it must have been obvious to them that she’d been living rough. That was the funny thing about One Eye - everyone accepted him at face value. There was something about him you felt you could trust, which also contributed to her decision to stay at his house.