And Jimmy could see it too.
‘Don’t even fucking think about it,’ Jimmy shouted. ‘This was going to be your warning, Harry. Tonight you were going to learn a little lesson about who you can and can’t fuck with. But don’t worry, all is not lost. Now you’re here you may as well join the fucking party. Tie him up, Micky.’
Following Micky with his gun, Raymond debated whether to just shoot the gangly cunt. If he did it quick enough, he might just have enough time to turn and shoot Jimmy too.
Harry’s stern look said it all, though. Raymond needed to do as he was told. The girls were here. They couldn’t risk putting them in any more danger.
Dragging another chair over, Micky pushed Harry roughly down onto it and then, after tying his hands with the rope from the reel that he had in his pocket, Micky stood back, glaring at Raymond now, defiant.
He might still be armed, but he was outnumbered.
‘You,’ Jimmy ordered. ‘Drop your gun too.’
Raymond took a few seconds to think about this. He could blow a hole in Jimmy’s stomach the size of the bloke’s head if he wanted to, but it was too much of a risk.
Having no choice but to do as he was told, Raymond bent down and placed the shotgun on the floor.
Jimmy laughed. This was too easy. It was obviously true what everyone was saying about Harry losing it. The bloke was nothing but a has-been. Him and his sidekick. No wonder he was stepping back from it all.
Seeing his mobile flash up with Cassie’s number, Nathan debated whether or not to answer it. Right now, cramped in the back of the car with Terry, while his dad and Raymond were inside the bar with shooters, wasn’t the best timing in the world. But Cassie wouldn’t ring him unless it was important. The fact that she was calling him at all, at this time in the morning, sent alarm bells ringing in his head. ‘You, keep your mouth shut, yeah. Don’t try anything funny,’ Nathan warned Terry before he answered.
‘Cass?’
Immediately, he pulled the phone back away from his ear as the piercing screech belted out from his mobile, almost deafening him. Nathan thought that there was some kind of fault on the line. Then he realised it was screaming.
Cassie was screaming.
‘Cassie? Are you okay? Talk to me . . .’ Nathan could feel the colour draining from his face as he spoke. It sounded like she was in pain. Like she was hurt, scared. He’d only left her a couple of hours ago, and she’d seemed fine then.
Then Nathan thought about the baby.
They’d only just found out that she was pregnant. What if something had happened?
‘Cassie! Is it the baby? Is the baby okay?’
Terry, who had been sitting quietly up until now listening to the drama unfold, could tell that Nathan was now well and truly preoccupied with whoever this Cassie bird was on the blower, and not one to miss an opportunity, he was getting himself ready to make a run for it.
Leaning forward in his seat, Nathan was frustrated now. Shouting Cassie’s name, he just wanted her to tell him that she was okay. All he could hear was screaming.
Then, in the background, he heard a man’s voice.
The man was shouting, and Cassie was crying.
Racking his brains, Nathan tried to recall whether Cassie had told him about anyone who may have been hanging around her, an ex-boyfriend, a neighbour.
Whoever it was, he sounded angry. Cassie sounded really scared.
‘Cassie baby, talk to me . . .’
Straining to listen now to the man’s words as he bellowed in the background, it suddenly dawned on Nathan that the voice was familiar.
It was Christopher. He was sure of it. Positive, in fact.
What the fuck was Christopher doing at Cassie’s? More to the point, why was she crying? Christopher sounded strange, demented almost.
It sounded like he was hurting her.
Pulling at the door handle, Terry took his chance at escaping and jumped out of the car. Almost falling onto the pavement in his hurry to get away, he scuttled towards the alleyway like a man possessed.
Nathan reached out to make a grab for him, half-heartedly putting up some kind of protest, but he was too slow. And right now, babysitting Terry was the least of his priorities.
He couldn’t take in what he was hearing.
He didn’t understand what was going on.
‘Cassie, I’m on my way,’ Nathan shouted as he too jumped out of the back of the car and got straight into the front. His dad had left the keys in the Bentley’s ignition, and without a second thought, Nathan started the car up and sped off.
His only thoughts were Cassie and his baby. He needed to get to them, and fast.
Chapter Forty-Six
Crouching down on the seat, Terry could smell the strong fumes of petrol, and he could see the jerry can that had been discarded on the floor.
He could also see the four chairs that Harry, Raymond, Kelly and the younger girl were tied to. There was no sign of the kids, so at least that was something. Kelly looked awful, her make-up smeared all down her face, and her eyes puffy from where she’d been crying. She looked petrified. Seeing her in such a state, Terry’s heart went out to her. All his anger from earlier, when he’d first set his sights on this place, was now gone.
It was like now, with her and the kids at risk of being hurt, Terry had his priorities well and truly tested. Kelly had given him everything, and all he’d ever been to her in return was a complete cunt. Cheating on her and taking her for granted. These past few weeks of sleeping in dingy squats, and rummaging in dustbins for scraps of food to survive had been the loneliest he’d ever endured.
Talk about learning the hard way. Kelly and the kids were his life. He realised that now. Seeing her like this, he felt his blood boil. It was about time that he stepped up and started acting like the husband she deserved.
But if even Harry couldn’t sort the O’Sheas out, then how the hell was he going to?
Harry’s hands were tied firmly around his back, his eyes glaring at Jimmy, flashing with anger. Micky was a first class prick; it was clear to see which man was the monkey and which was the organ grinder here. Jimmy was the man shouting the orders, and this was all down to him. Micky was just the brainless idiot going along with it all.
They were both fools to think that they were going to get away with this.
Staring over to Evie, he could see that she was petrified too. She was a clever girl, though. He had to hand it to her. She had her hands behind her, as if they were still tied.
His gun was on the floor in front of her. All she had to do was reach down and get it, and they would have some kind of a chance of getting out of here.
He could see the fear in her eyes. She was so terrified she looked like she could barely move.
He’d string the O’Sheas up for this when it was all over.
Feeling the rattling start in his chest again, he tried to clear his throat. The small raspy tickle set him off, and soon the tickle in the back of his throat was a loud hacking cough.
Tied to the chair, Harry was exposed.
Choking now, he could taste the metallic tang of blood, and turning his head to the side he spat out the phlegm, hoping that Kelly and Evie wouldn’t see the blood.
‘What the fuck?’ Micky jumped back as Harry gobbed a mouthful of the red mucus onto his trousers as he aimed for the floor.
‘Harry?’ Raymond could see by Harry’s face that what he had just witnessed wasn’t new to his friend. He was coughing up blood, a lot of it. But going by his now calm exterior, he was trying to do his best to pretend that spitting blood was normal. Harry seemed unfazed by it, like it had happened before.
‘Leave it.’ Harry quickly dismissed his actions, embarrassed that he now had no control over his obvious indisposition.
Jimmy, quick to pick up on Harry’s weakness, could see i
t too. He could see in Harry’s eyes that the bloke was sick. He twigged just as Raymond did.
This was why Harry Woods was stepping back. He was ill.
Really ill.
‘I’ve got fucking blood all over my leg.’ Micky stared at Harry accusingly, as if Harry had purposely spat some kind of contagious venom at him. ‘I could get fucking AIDS from this!’
Jimmy shook his head. Micky really was a bloody idiot sometimes. But right now, with an audience watching, Jimmy couldn’t be arsed to explain to Micky what the chances of that happening were.
‘Go and get yourself cleared up, Micky.’ He nodded towards the men’s toilets. ‘Hurry the fuck up.’ Then turning back to Harry, he grinned. ‘You don’t look too good, Harry. Coughing up blood, that can’t be good.’
Harry looked away, but not quickly enough.
‘Don’t tell me you’re about to kick the bucket?’ Jimmy laughed.
The way Harry’s eyes flickered, Jimmy could tell that his words had hit him. He knew that he was right on the money. Harry Woods was dying.
This was just getting better and better.
‘Dad?’ Kelly felt sick at where the conversation was going. ‘What the hell is he talking about?’
‘Oh, sorry. I take it you haven’t broken the news to your kids yet? Ah well, it’s out now, isn’t it? Looks like I could be doing you a favour tonight after all. By putting you out of your misery.’
Then Jimmy really laughed. This was fucking priceless. It really was.
‘The only one who’s getting put out of their misery tonight is you, Jimmy, and trust me, when I get my hands on you, you’re going to wish you were never born. You and your brother are just a fucking joke.’ Harry was fuming now.
He couldn’t even look Raymond or the girls in the eye now. He hadn’t wanted his illness to come out like this. ‘You’re a fool, Jimmy, if you think anyone will want to do business with you after this. You’re nothing, no-one. The O’Shea brothers, a couple of faces? Do me a favour, you two are no more than a couple of cunts.’
Harry had Jimmy’s full attention now. Rendered silent, the bloke was seething at Harry’s words. He was still pointing the gun at him, but Harry no longer cared.
‘What’s the matter, Jimmy, truth fucking hurting?’
Harry’s mocking had the desired effect. Jimmy was no longer so cocky, nor was he thinking straight. His ego was getting the better of him. Harry could see it in the bloke’s eyes.
All Harry had to do was keep him talking. Keep his attention.
‘To be fair, it’s more Micky that most people cunt off. Your brother holds you back, Jimmy. He ain’t anywhere near as smart as you . . .’ Harry continued. ‘Though that don’t fucking say much. Even the Turks wouldn’t work with you and they fucking have crack heads doing their running for them. You’re a joke, Jimmy, a walking talking joke. But you seem to be the only one who hasn’t realised that.’
Harry kept talking. He could see Terry creeping up behind Jimmy ready to strike, and he knew that all he had to do was keep Jimmy’s attention. Keep the man talking, and then maybe they’d have some kind of chance of getting out of here in one piece.
Just a few feet away now, Terry was almost ready to pounce. He was unarmed, though, so he was going to have to grab him unawares. Try to wrestle the bloke’s gun from him.
It wasn’t much of a plan, but it was all he had and he had to at least try, for Kelly’s and the kids’ sake.
Evie, Kelly and Raymond, all aware of what was going on, kept their eyes down. Not wanting to give away the fact that Terry was almost on Jimmy. Harry was playing a blinder with keeping Jimmy’s attention.
Treading carefully, scared that his feet would squelch, he tiptoed on the petrol sodden carpet. Just a couple more steps. Inches away now, he was almost on him.
‘Jimmy, behind you.’ Coming out of the bathroom, Micky’s face twisted in anger as he pointed his hand to alert his brother that Terry was closing in on him. Terry was unarmed, and Micky knew that his brother would have his back. Micky launched himself at Terry.
Watching as his brother and Terry Stranks rolled about on the floor, Jimmy released the safety off his gun. As soon as he got a clear aim he was going to take a shot at Terry. The slippery bastard had come out of nowhere. It was Terry’s fault that any of them were here in the first place. If Terry and his stupid bitch of a wife had just paid up what they owed, Jimmy and Micky would have walked away ages ago. None of this would ever have happened.
Watching as the two men started fighting, Jimmy shouted at Micky. ‘Fucking hell, Micky. Move out the way and I’ll deal with the fucker myself.’
Punching out, Terry whacked Micky straight in the face, his clenched fist impacting hard with Micky’s mouth, sending his tooth tearing right through his bottom lip.
Micky tried to hit back, but Terry was getting the upper hand. He whacked Micky again, sending him sprawling backwards, then, before he had a chance to register what was happening, Terry grabbed a fistful of Micky’s hair and whacked his head off the floor.
Jimmy took the shot.
Terry moved, yanking Micky up roughly by his hair. The bullet Jimmy fired skimmed past Terry, tearing into the back of Micky’s head.
Blood spurted out of Micky’s mouth. Instantly he was dead.
Hearing a treacherous howl fill the room, Jimmy took a few seconds to realise the noise was coming from him.
He’d shot Micky.
He’d shot his brother.
Pulling the trigger again, he shot at Terry. He’d just made him shoot his brother. Jimmy wanted him dead.
Terry screamed in pain as the bullet penetrated his shoulder.
‘Put your gun down.’ Turning around Jimmy almost laughed at the sight of the young girl standing before him, her hand trembling almost as much as her voice as she pointed her dad’s gun straight at his head.
Jimmy sniggered. ‘I’ve seen scarier fucking cartoons, love. Do me a favour and sit back down, yeah? This will soon be over.’
Taking the lighter from out of his pocket, Jimmy knew that all he had to do was flick the switch and the whole place would go up in minutes. He’d have enough time to drag his brother outside, he was sure.
As for the rest of them, their fate would be left down to this girl, and there was no way she’d be able to get them all untied and out of here in time.
‘Put it down,’ Evie shouted. Squeezing the trigger just a few millimetres, she stared him dead in the eyes. It was all on her now.
‘Okay, okay,’ Jimmy said as he lowered his gun to the floor.
‘Evie.’ Seeing Jimmy’s finger move on the trigger, as he pretended to put his weapon down, Harry called out to warn his daughter.
The shot rang out loudly in the room. Desperate now, Harry threw himself in front of Evie, bringing the chair he was tied to crashing down with him.
Then another shot rang out.
Then Kelly’s scream filled the room.
Evie was standing as if in a trance, with the gun hanging down at her side, staring at the floor where Jimmy was splayed out in a pool of dark thick blood.
She’d killed him.
Except she hadn’t been quick enough. Next to him was her father, motionless on the floor, with blood seeping out from his shirt.
Harry had taken the bullet that was meant for his daughter.
Chapter Forty-Seven
Taking the stairs two at a time, Nathan couldn’t have run faster if he’d tried.
The distraught phone call from Cassie had been cut off on his way over here, and when he’d tried calling her back, she hadn’t answered.
Nathan was worried. Something was wrong. Really wrong.
Reaching Cassie’s flat, Nathan placed his hand on the already ajar door as he cautiously pushed it open.
‘Cass?’ he called as he trod carefully down the h
allway, apprehensive about what he might be walking into. He listened, but the flat was silent.
Only a few feet inside the doorway, he could already see the mess and destruction. The flat looked like it had been ransacked. Everything was smashed and broken. Glass crunched beneath his feet as he walked, and there was mud all over the place, from where Cassie’s favourite yucca plant had been thrown across the room. The large ceramic pot was broken into pieces on the floor.
With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Nathan continued to make his way through the flat, scared at what he might find.
It looked like Cassie had been burgled.
All he could think about was the baby. He prayed to God that they were both okay.
Stepping over chunks of splintered wood, remnants of what used to be the coffee table, he made his way back out of the lounge and along the hallway towards the bathroom.
‘Cass?’ he called again.
Then, stopping dead in his tracks, Nathan felt the bile rise up in the back of his throat as he looked down at the blood stained carpet. Feeling dizzy and nauseated he held onto the door frame, peering into the small bathroom. The door was completely off its hinges. Like it had been kicked in. And there was more blood on the floor.
Cassie’s blood?
Following the trail of blood back out and along the hallway – slowly, apprehensively – Nathan made his way to the kitchen. All the while, he was consumed by the sense of utter dread about what he was yet to see.
He somehow managed to swallow down the sick, watery substance that was beginning to rise up at the back of his throat.
What the fuck had happened here? Where the fuck was Cassie?
Stepping near to the kitchen doorway, Nathan could hear something. It sounded like laboured breathing, like someone was close by, gasping for breath. Almost unable to look, Nathan forced himself to walk those extra few feet into the kitchen. Steadying himself as he saw her, Nathan’s hand shot up to his mouth. On the floor in the corner of the room, surrounded by more blood, was Cassie.
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