‘Kelly?’ Evie narrowed her eyes.
Kelly was perched on a chair opposite, over by the bar. Her face was stained with streaks of thick black mascara, smeared all down her face like she’d been crying.
Evie’s heart went out to her. Her poor sister looked a right state. Sitting here in the middle of the night, crying to herself, over Terry no doubt. ‘Kelly, are you okay?’
Kelly didn’t answer. Instead she was staring at her strangely. Her eyes wide, as if she was trying to tell her something.
Evie noticed the upturned furniture, the smashed glass all over the floor. She realised that something was very wrong here.
‘What the hell has happened?’
Without warning, two men jumped out from behind the door where they had been hiding. Grabbing Evie roughly, they pulled her forwards.
Jimmy locked the door behind her.
Clamping his hand over Evie’s mouth before the girl had a chance to scream for help, Micky O’Shea raised his eyes to Kelly. ‘Who the fuck is this then, huh?’ he asked, eyeing the kid up. The girl was young, just a teenager, and judging by the terrified look on the girl’s face she was hardly a threat. For a moment there when they’d heard someone trying to get in with the key, Jimmy and Micky had thought they’d been busted. They thought maybe Harry or the boys had got wind of them being here.
Harry didn’t have a clue they were here, and by the time he did find out, it would be too late.
‘Please, leave her. It’s Evie, she’s my sister. She’s just a kid.’
Even through Kelly’s anguish she wondered how the hell Evie had got here, and why. It was the middle of the night. Something must have happened. Seeing Jimmy and Micky circle around Evie like sharks around fresh meat, Kelly knew that now wasn’t the time or the place to find out. Whatever it was would keep for now. Instead, she needed to try to scare these fuckers off. They needed to stay the fuck away from Evie.
‘Is Dad with you?’ Kelly asked as her eyes bored into her sister’s, hinting to Evie to nod that he was. The O’Sheas had already smashed the place up, and Kelly had said silent prayers that they wouldn’t wake up Billy and Miley. She couldn’t face the kids coming downstairs and witnessing this shocking scene. They’d be terrified.
Ignoring Evie’s unconvincing nod, Jimmy laughed. ‘Course he is.’ Then, pulling at Evie’s handbag, he sneered mockingly. ‘Are you in there, Harry? Come out, come out wherever you are.’
Pushing Evie onto the chair next to Kelly, Micky couldn’t help but leer. She was a pretty girl, this one. Much nicer than her older, plumper sister.
‘So, you must be Harry’s baby then? Youngest of the kids, are you?’ Micky guessed that this little firecracker would probably be the apple of her daddy’s eye.
Evie nodded. She felt scared now. She had no idea who the men that were holding her sister were. They looked dangerous.
‘Fuck me, tonight just gets better and better.’ Jimmy winked at Micky. The two men, as always, both on the same page. This little bitch rocking up hadn’t been part of their plan, but she was a very welcome addition.
Harry would be fucking stewing when he got wind of this.
Fuck the ten k Kelly owed them. It wasn’t about the money anymore.
Harry Woods should never have dismissed them.
Because now they had the bloke well and truly by his balls.
Chapter Forty-One
Lizzy Adams picked up her pace. She was scared; she could hear the car creeping up behind her and she didn’t even have to look.
She knew it was him.
Walking faster, she could feel the adrenaline surging inside her.
She needed to be sure; maybe she was wrong, maybe it was just another punter, or Rusty. Maybe he was checking up on her.
Turning her head, she almost did a double take.
She felt her skin prickle with goose bumps.
Her instinct had been right. It was him.
In the blacked out Audi.
She’d only just left St. Patrick’s. Father Michaels was right: she needed to tell the police. She was going to. She had been planning on going home and trying to get a few hours’ sleep first, then first thing tomorrow with a fresh head she was going to go straight down to the police station and tell them everything she knew.
She thought she’d be safe now, thought that because she’d seen the killer lurking around earlier, he would have gone.
Hearing the Audi speed up, Lizzy walked faster. As fast as her chunky black platform heels would let her.
Turning off into Dean Street, she listened as she heard the car follow.
He was fucking with her, trying to scare her. It was working.
She was petrified.
Keeping her eyes forward, looking straight ahead, Lizzy pretended that she hadn’t noticed the car as it levelled with her, matching her pace. Her heart beat manically inside her chest, and beads of sweat formed on her brow.
Her legs were like jelly.
How she was still walking she had no idea. All she kept thinking was that any minute now that nutcase could open a door and drag her inside. She felt sick with fear.
Seeing the park gates up ahead, she decided to cut back through Soho Square. She was almost running now, frantically through the park, and she stumbled on the stony path. Managing to regain her balance without falling, she stared over to where the headlights were shining through the bushes. He was still there, still following her. Only shrubs and a metal railing separated them.
Then the lights vanished.
Panicking, Lizzy realised that he’d stopped the car. Turned the engine off. He must have got out.
Alone, she ran as fast as she could. Her heart was beating so hard in her chest that it felt like it would explode.
The exit was just up ahead. Another twenty yards and she’d be out on the road again.
Turning to check behind her, she wanted to make sure that he hadn’t followed her into the park. Her eyes couldn’t focus in the darkness. She felt so terrified. Every tree, every plant swayed in the light breeze, unapologetically, throwing out shadows to confuse her.
The park by day was normally so busy, so vibrant. Now, in the dead of night, it was eerie.
Lizzy started to cry. Heavy sobs shook her; she was terrified for her life. She needed to get away from him. He was a monster; she’d seen what he’d done. What he was capable of. Father Michaels was right, she should have gone to the police. Now she might not get the chance.
Hurtling out through the gate, she could see the alleyway opposite. If she could make it there, she might have a chance of escape.
She could lose him.
Her legs felt like lead weighing her down as she ran. Like her body was purposely going against her, and making the few hundred metres seem like a mile.
She couldn’t hear the car, or anyone following her now. Into the alleyway, out of view from everyone. She had made it. Standing up against the wall, she finally let herself breathe a sigh of relief.
Then he grabbed her.
Chapter Forty-Two
Pulling up just down the road from the bar so that they wouldn’t be seen by anyone inside, Harry turned off the lights and the engine and turned to Nathan.
‘Stay here with him, just in case he’s spinning us some kind of line. Me and Raymond will go and see what’s what, okay?’ Terry had barely spoken a word since Harry had untied him and shoved him in the back of the car, and if Terry did try to kick off, Harry knew Nathan would knock seven shades of shit out of him. He might not be a fighter in the ring, like himself and Christopher were, but he still had the same blood, and Terry was no match for Nathan.
‘Seriously, Harry, I know you think I’m talking crap. But what would I be gaining from it? An hour of extra time before you work out what you’re going to do with me? Do me a favour! My fucking wife and kids are in
there. Let me come in with you.’
Terry shook his head as he spoke. He’d known this would happen. He’d known that Harry wouldn’t believe him. He could tell the bloke until he was blue in the face, and still Harry thought he knew best. It was obviously where Kelly got it from.
‘No chance,’ Harry said. Something told him that Terry was telling the truth, and if he was, if Kelly was in real danger, the last thing Harry needed was Terry strutting around like an irate numpty, getting in the way. Whatever was going on here, he and Raymond would sort it out.
‘Please, Harry, think about it. Safety in numbers and all that. The O’Sheas are scumbags but trust me, they are vicious fuckers, Harry, they don’t play by the rules. You have no idea what you could be walking into.’ Begging now, Terry couldn’t just sit outside like a fucking spare part while those savages were inside with his family. He could see that Harry wasn’t listening.
Ignoring Terry, Harry knew he was more than capable of dealing with those two fuckers. They were nothing.
‘Will you be okay out here?’ Harry asked Nathan, as he held out his pistol, nodding at him to take it. Terry couldn’t fight himself out of a paper bag, but Harry wouldn’t put it past the bloke to try to pull a fast one if he had to. ‘Don’t let him out of your sight, okay?’
‘Yeah, no worries.’ Reluctantly, Nathan did as he was told. Watching as Raymond and his dad got out of the car, and made their way around to the boot to get the other guns, he had a really bad feeling about this.
‘You ready for this?’ Grabbing the shotgun, Raymond passed Harry his Glock.
‘Yeah. Terry said it was the side window that he’d tried to go through. He said he’d almost got in undetected, so I say that’s our best bet. Then maybe we can suss out what the fuck is going on and take these fuckers unawares.’
Raymond nodded in agreement.
Then together they made their way down the walkway that ran along the side of the bar.
‘Please, the kids are upstairs. You can’t do this.’ Kelly was crying now. Begging the O’Sheas to listen to her. Her hands were tied tightly behind her back, securing her to the chair, just like her sister next to her.
All they could do was watch in horror, as Micky O’Shea held up the jerry can and doused the bar in petrol.
‘Fucking place is going to be alight in seconds with all this fucking fancy wood everywhere. It’s going to be like the most expensive bonfire party you lot have ever been invited to.’
‘Oi, watch my fucking shoes, Mick, I don’t want to go home fucking stinking of that shit.’ Jimmy jumped out of the way, as the liquid hit his shoe. He wiped the leather on a clean small section of carpet that had been missed, and shook his head at Micky. His brother was a clumsy cunt sometimes. As always, he couldn’t help himself, going overboard and saturating everything in fuel. The place reeked.
Seeing the two women crying, Jimmy grinned nastily. The girls could put on the water works all they liked; it wouldn’t get them anywhere with him. In fact, all it did was get on his tits. He was getting a headache just listening to the pair of snivelling cows.
‘Don’t worry, girls, I’m sure that someone will hear your screams and come to your rescue. Let’s leave it down to fate, yeah? Whatever the outcome, whether you get out of here alive or not, your dad will have got his warning from us.’ Jimmy smirked now. ‘As soon as I strike a match, your ‘Destiny’ will be out of my hands. So shut the fuck up with your whinging before I fucking gag the pair of you,’ Jimmy threatened before walking off.
‘It’s going to be alright, Evie. I promise you . . .’ But even as Kelly whispered the words to her trembling sister, she knew herself that it was far from alright. No-one knew that the O’Sheas were here.
If this place did go up in flames, their only chance of getting out of here would be if passers-by came to their aid, and in order for that to happen, they’d have to see the fire and the smoke first. Judging by the amount of petrol Micky had just splashed about the place, the chances were that it would be too late by then.
Kelly could have kicked herself for being so greedy now. This was all her fault. She should have just paid the money that she owed these bastards and then none of this would have happened. Now all she could think about were the kids upstairs, and how she’d put them both in danger with her selfishness.
For the past hour she’d done nothing but pray that Billy and Miley stayed upstairs out of the way. She didn’t want them to come down here and see the O’Sheas terrorising her as they set about smashing the bar up. Now, she was scared they wouldn’t wake up, that they’d die from smoke inhalation, or worse from the flames.
These bastards didn’t give a shit about her or the kids. All they cared about was scoring points with her dad.
‘You done?’ Jimmy asked as he watched his brother.
Micky nodded as he shook the container, sprinkling the last of the petrol over the velvet booth under the main window.
The place would go up in seconds and the two girls wouldn’t stand a chance. Even if they screamed, no fucker would be able to get to them in time. The whole place was soaked in fuel. Once he and his brother left, they’d probably have minutes, if that.
Jimmy O’Shea was sick of trying to claw his way up the ranks of London’s criminal underworld. It was about time that people started showing him the respect he deserved. Sorting out Harry Woods was the perfect place to start.
The bloke really rated himself. He refused point blank to work with ‘the likes of’ him and his brother, and Jimmy had stewed over Harry’s dismissal for far too long.
Now he’d heard on the grapevine that Harry was thinking of stepping back from it all. Harry would leave the market wide open to the Turks if he did, and Jimmy wouldn’t stand a chance of cutting any kind of a deal with those wankers. Those fuckers kept to their own.
No, the only way that Jimmy was going to be able to worm his way in with any of the bigger gangs was to make a name for himself. Show every fucker within fifty miles of London what he was really capable of.
Harry Woods was big time. He’d been round the circuit for years, and he was well respected. Jimmy wanted to be the man that brought Harry to his knees. He wanted to crucify the bastard by getting to him through his daughters. Take away the man’s fight, then take away his business. Harry would soon take notice of who the fuck he was then.
They all would.
No-one would ever dismiss him or his brother again.
Taking one last swig of the whiskey his brother had poured him, Jimmy O’Shea had it all worked out.
Watching this place burn to the ground was going to be a fucking pleasure.
Chapter Forty-Three
The girl was like a wild animal. Her sharp nails were clawing at his eyes, gouging strips of skin from his face. She was a third of his size, yet she was fighting with everything she had. Fighting for her life. He’d been amused at first by the girl’s strong spirit and determination. The girl’s frame was so skinny and slight, and her strength had impressed him for a few seconds. He hadn’t expected it. Now, scratching, and tearing at his skin, the girl’s resilience was wearing thin for him and Christopher was beginning to lose his fucking temper.
‘You stupid little bitch.’ Grabbing the girl roughly, Christopher yanked her arm up high above her head and pinned her up against the brick wall.
‘Get off me,’ Lizzy screamed. Hoping that someone in one of the houses nearby would hear her shouts for help, she belted her voice out as loud as she could. Tucked away down the alleyway, hidden from sight, she wasn’t holding out much hope of anyone coming to her rescue.
Shutting the girl up, Christopher slammed his hand over her mouth. The temptation of wanting to hurt the girl, really hurt her, was overpowering him. He needed to shut the bitch up. Good and proper. So she couldn’t tell anyone anything. Wrapping his hands around her throat, he pressed hard as he watched the lo
ok of horror wash over her terrified face.
Her skin was pale, and up this close to her he could see scabs on her chin that she’d tried to cover up with cheap make-up. She looked every bit the skanky druggy that she was.
She was nothing to him. Just worthless scum.
Squeezing harder now, he could see the flash of understanding in the girl’s eyes as the realisation of what he was about to do hit her. He was going to kill her. Just like he had her friend.
Brutally, violently. Without remorse.
He despised whores. Dirty little bitches, selling their bodies to men for money.
No morals, no fucking shame.
His aversion to them was conflicting. As much as his mind was repelled by women, his body was also drawn to them. He hated that he sometimes couldn’t control that need.
It sickened him that as much as he loathed how cheap and nasty women could be, at the same time he wanted to touch them, taste them, feel himself inside them.
How they had that power to make him feel weak.
To want them.
Then he only hated them even more.
Christopher could feel the same torment building inside him now as he continued to squeeze the girl’s throat. He could feel the power building up inside him.
The girl was getting weak.
Seeing the man’s evil eyes flicker with hate, Lizzy tried to scream, but his hands were so firmly locked around her throat that no sound came out.
She was struggling to breathe in air now. She had a strange feeling: sucking in desperately through her mouth and nostrils, her lungs remained empty, deflated. Wheezing, she was getting weaker.
But she wouldn’t give up. She couldn’t. She wasn’t ready to die.
Bringing her leg up, Lizzy had no other choice but to impact her knee as hard as she could into the man’s balls.
It worked. Expelling a sharp breath, the man doubled over in pain. Letting go of his grip, he fell forward in agony, pressing up against her as he did.
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