Raven returned to the barn wildly elated, a big contrast to how she’d felt that morning. Marcus was finally out of the way and Patrick had been put in his place. Now for a few days rest, just hanging about the house and hiking on the moors. She was ready for some time away from the world. But just for a little while because soon she would have to rejoin it. On her way out of Patrick’s office she’d received a call from a gang boss in Sheffield who just happened to be a rival of Marcus’s wanting her to eliminate another gang boss. Word of Marcus’s death was already spreading, which had opened up a power vacuum. The good thing about people like her were that inconvenient people were removed nice and quietly, ensuring innocent people were kept out of the line of fire.
She drove her Nissan X-Trail into the garage. The mechanic she’d taken it to had done such a good job it was impossible to tell it had been damaged at all.
As she got out of the car, she heard a meow. Looking down, she saw a large tabby cat strut inside. He was a big hardened bugger, the tip of his left ear missing. A scar ran across his face, from his right lip to just below his left eye. He parked his bum on the floor and sat there, staring at her.
“Where did you come from?” she said.
The cat meowed again. It was demanding and a little cocky.
“Confident little sod, aren’t you?”
She surmised he was a feral cat, he certainly looked it and she wondered how he’d survived on the moor. Raven knelt before him and reached out a hand, wondering if she was going to get bitten or scratched, hoping he didn’t have rabies.
Rather than attack, he had a good sniff before deciding she was okay and rubbing his head against her, purring like a tank.
“You hungry boy?”
Another meow was his response, sniffing the pocket where she’d stashed the plastic tub. “Sorry, that won’t be good for you. It’s been out of the fridge too long. Still, it fooled Patrick,” she chuckled. Despite what she’d told him, that piece of liver had come from the supermarket, she wasn’t an animal. It was amazing the effect a bit of psychological warfare could have. “Come on then, I’ve got some nice fish.”
After feeding the cat, he curled up on the rug before the fire. Raven settled into the armchair with a cup of green tea, enjoying watching him, his obvious contentment warming her inside. This one was a free spirit, he couldn’t be tamed and he lived life on his own terms, much like herself. In him she’d found a kindred spirit. He would come and go as he pleased but that was fine by her. Here he would always have a home. She’d been thinking of getting a cat and he was the perfect solution.
Now she had another heartbeat around the house, the pain of Aidan leaving again eased.
Smiling to herself, she picked up a book and started to read.
Tom stared at the mortal remains of Marcus Moore, the gruesome sight and accompanying stink making the seasoned detective beside him blanch. At least it had gone quiet, all the blinded, crying men in the main bar having been carted off to hospital.
“No witnesses, no CCTV,” said the detective. “Another fucking mystery. This city’s full of them.”
“Marcus had a lot of rivals,” said Tom. “There were plenty of people wanting his guns.”
“Looks like one of them took them. I don’t know why we bother for twats like this. We’d be better off staying out of it and letting the lot of them kill each other.”
Tom however knew this wasn’t the handiwork of a rival gang. It was Raven. He didn’t know how he knew, it was just his instinct telling him but somehow he could feel her, as though she were still in the room. But it didn’t make him regret disposing of that cable tie. In that particular case justice had been served and that was what mattered. Jeremy Elias had deserved everything he’d got.
However, if Raven kept pulling stunts like this his feelings for her wouldn’t stand in the way. He would bring her down. Judging by the state of Marcus, she was just getting warmed up.
THE END
Raven Page 38