Calling Time: Book #1 - The Razer Series

by K A Sands

  Me: What?

  She was after gossip. This was unfamiliar territory, we hadn’t talked this way before, certainly not when I had been dating Marc. Right there was a huge clue Marc had been all wrong from the get go. If I couldn’t gossip to my sister about a bloke I was head over heels for, what hope was there?

  Taylor: He stayed?? Ryder said he stayed...

  I chewed on my finger nail, standing in the narrow aisle, contemplating my reply. I wasn’t sure how much to spill. She already knew he hadn’t gone home, I couldn’t be annoyed at Ryder for spilling the beans, so to speak.

  Me: Ryder has a big mouth

  I grinned, feeling naughty.

  Taylor: Yes, yes, he does - a sinful mouth. Now come on Laura, spill!

  I felt normal, such a little thing but mighty huge at the same time. I was texting boy things with my sister, doing the whole ‘girl’ chat, and it was making me giddy. I took a quick peek around the aisle again making sure I was alone.

  Me: He stayed. No freak outs.

  She wasn’t getting the details. They were mine and I was keeping them, no way was I sharing.

  Taylor: Naked?

  Me: Yes

  I’d give her that, nothing more.

  Taylor: Oh Laura!!

  I could imagine her excitement where-ever she was; jumping up and down. She knew the magnitude of the situation. I’d jumped a massive hurdle, it was worth getting animated over.

  Taylor: Go girl! He’s a good guy.

  He was, he really was, and it was worth trying to see where this went with Lucca. I owed it to myself and if I was being honest - I wanted what my sister had. My exuberance for life back. To be happy.

  Me: I like him a lot, it’s early days.

  Taylor: We all got to start somewhere, baby girl.

  Taylor: Antique lot Saturday?

  We were suckers for antique markets and similar places, it was a given I was in. She hardly needed to ask. Ever since we were girls we’d found a beauty in the old, a love of by-gone antique and vintage things. Our dad was a collector of sorts, didn’t matter what, he had no preference. If it was old and he liked it, he’d buy it. He’d passed his love on to us and I was very much my father’s daughter, enjoyed restoring old furniture I came across too. Taylor loved the showrooms and the auction lots despite rarely buying anything. I often wondered if it was her detachment to life while we were running. She’d fallen in love with an Antique Bridge floor lamp at one auction a few years ago, and when I’d asked why she hadn’t bought it, she’d shrugged and said it wouldn’t fit in a box. The moment was bleak and resonated cruelly. Maybe now she could have those things?

  Me: Sure x

  Taylor: OK. C U Later xx

  I shoved my phone in my pocket, my light-hearted mood picking up. Life felt great for a change, pleasant. I continued through the store, browsing and picking up things that interested me, occasionally dropping stuff into my basket. I was in no hurry. When I was happy I had what I wanted, with a few extras, I made my way to the counter where Daryl, the store owner, sat with his phone in his hand.

  “Ah, Miss Laura. How are you today?”

  Everyone knew everyone in Beaufort, there was no point in hiding in a place like this, I didn’t even bother to try. It had been this way since we’d arrived. People were pleasant and welcoming, not overly nosy, looked out for you. I enjoyed the sense of community, loved the sense of belonging.

  “I’m good today, Daryl,” I replied. “How’s your lovely wife? Feeling any better?”

  “Much better, thank you. Still resting up, nasty flu bug.” He started ringing up my groceries. “You find whatever you need today, Miss Laura?”

  I bagged my stuff and reached for my purse, pulling out my card. “I did, Daryl. Thank you.”

  Leaving the store with my head down while I put away my purse, I didn’t watch where I was going inadvertently bumping into someone. I was such a clutz.

  “Oh, sorry...” I looked up and stopped in my tracks. Stella stood before me, a face like thunder.

  “Watch it, bitch!”

  “Oh, give over, it was an accident.”

  I made to move around her, not wanting an inevitable screaming match in the middle of the street for all to see, she struck me the sort to thrive on negative attention.

  “I see you’ve hooked my husband already?”

  She blocked my path, getting right up in my personal space, her eyes flying to the faint purple mark under my jaw that Lucca had absentmindedly left amidst his orgasm that morning.

  Score one for me...

  I wasn’t intimidated by this woman at all, I saw her for the bully and wicked person she was. Lucca was worth any amount of tripe that came from her mouth, I stood my ground and gave as good as I got. I wasn’t cowering in front of her.

  “He’s not your husband. Did you forget that, Stella?”

  She huffed at me and tipped her chin up. “Don’t play games with me. Lucca will see you for the piece of trash you are soon enough.”

  Staring at her a long while, I then laughed. “Sure. You’d know what trash looks like.” I moved again, barging into her shoulder so she wasn’t blocking me and took a few steps away from her, intent on leaving.

  “He was right about you...”

  I paused. No, I came to a standstill, spinning on my heel to face her. “What?”

  “...said you were a whore, likes guys with money.” She walked the few short steps to me. “Pity Lucca won’t have any soon.”

  I stood dumbfounded, piecing two and two together. That’s how she knew me. She knew him. “Where is he?” I tried to come across unaffected, knew it was too late, that she could see right through me.

  “Ah, not so dumb after all, huh?”

  The air around me stalled as I processed her words. She’d certainly managed to take me off guard imparting that information. I bit my lip, no longer sure how to play this conversation out. Did I confront her or walk away? How much did I want to know?

  “I know all about you, Laura.” Stella sneered and moved in closer, lowering her voice. “What you don’t know is, he’s been on your heels a long time. Always known where you were.”

  There was no surprise in my reaction, I hadn’t been a quivering, paranoid mess for years for no reason. It’s why Taylor and I ran. No matter what we said to convince ourselves he simply didn’t care, we were both aware he cared enough to find me and end what he started. Taylor and I took no chances.

  “Said he liked fucking you that way. You like it too, huh, Laura?”

  Her comment jarred me. The woman was vile, reprehensible. How on earth a lovely man like Lucca had ever been married to her I’d never understand. I had no words to describe the pitiful excuse standing in front of me.

  “Took me a long time to get you out of his fucking head. He loved your sorry arse. And now, I see my husband looking at you with those same starry eyes? Not happening.”

  He loved me?

  He loved me? Like hell he did. I remembered the promises he’d made while slicing across my stomach. The vitriol he’d spat at me while he’d sunk the blade into my neck. All the names he’d called while he’d brutally taken a part of me I’d never get back, I’d never have in the future. I remembered every last detail and none of it came from a man who had loved me.

  Memories swirled around the edges of my mind, I refused to succumb to them, refused to yield to Stella. She wanted a reaction, wanted to see me broken. She wasn’t getting it. Anger fused lightening quick, I wasn’t bowing down to anyone in fear ever again.

  Turning tables...

  “Seems more your style, Stella.” I hiked my bag across my shoulder and stood straighter. I would not be weak in front of this woman.

  “Oh yeah, I like a bit of brutality. Ask Lucca. He’ll tell you all about the dirty little things I like.” She licked her lips, the glint in her eye making her look positively evil. I didn’t want to hear any more from her putrid mouth. “Just see where he ended up the last time.”

&nbs
p; I studied her, watching as smug satisfaction washed across her face. She had me. I couldn’t find a coherent thought to retaliate with, my head going a hundred different ways at what she meant.

  “Sleep with one eye open, I’m watching you!” she hissed.

  Lucca

  “What did you do?”

  Ryder sat on the edge of my newly delivered desk that had appeared less than half an hour ago, twirling a pen through his fingers. “What?” he boomed at me.

  The boyish look about him I knew all too well, was present, one that said he was dragging me into another one of his hair-brained ventures. Not that any of them had failed, and there had been some whoppers through the years of our friendship.

  “I know that look, bro.”

  “Sure, you do.” He threw the pen he’d been playing with down on the table then swivelled to face me. “I bought a club.”

  “You bought a what?” I asked.

  “A club.”

  “A club?”

  “You a fucking parrot now, Lucca?”

  “Fuck off!” I scratched at my chin and watched him, waiting for the joke. Ryder stayed silent, I bit the bait. “Okay, you bought a club. And you want me to ask why?”

  He shrugged. “Just fancied it, was a good deal. You know how I like a good deal, right?”

  “Why?”

  That was Ryder. Saw a favourable deal, he took it. So far, I couldn’t complain. I’d yet to see how this restaurant venture was going to fair and understandably another new project on top of this one made me nervous.

  “You wanna go see it?”

  “Where? In Brighton?”

  “Yip, not too far from Ayden’s new place.”

  Which reminded me to tie up the paperwork on the Loft. I wrote on a post it and stuck it to the front of the computer monitor.

  “Upmarket,” he added.

  I figured it would be. The Loft we’d bought for Ayden was in a more affluent area of the city, hence the few hundred-grand price tag. If Ryder was telling me he got a fair deal around there - then he got a fair deal. I checked the calendar, nothing was pressing or showing up.

  “We can go visit Charlie while we’re there.”

  My head snapped up at his suggestion. I had no problems seeing the dickhead, Ryder surely didn’t feel the same though. It had been a long time since he’d stepped foot in the same room as the man. Although we’d discussed Charlie since he’d shown up, I didn’t think Ryder wanted to actively seek him out.

  “Okay,” I said, puzzled.

  “All right.”

  He looked chirpy enough and I let my reservations go, didn’t voice them, just followed him out to his ridiculous Ford Ranger Pick-up. I shook my head when I saw the beast. Being best-friends, I’d caught him more than a time or two in a compromising position, or stark naked - I knew he wasn’t trying to compensate for anything. I couldn’t wrap my head around the extravagant purchase and why he had to buy a truck so...huge.

  * * *

  Parking was easy enough on the road outside the boarded-up club, it was no time at all before we were inside the dark building. The place was huge, maybe the biggest club we’d ever had. Yes, we’d had a few, always flippers. Done up and sold on. Ryder’s intention was different this time, that much was evident.

  “You want to run it, I take it?”

  “Yup,” he said easily, “or at least get decent management in here.” Easy done, we had a fantastic portfolio of staff who enjoyed working for us. “I’m sick of hotels, Lucca.”

  I heard him. Twenty years we’d been running them, keeping the big ones we liked, flipping the smaller ones along with the restaurants and whatever else we’d picked up. His change in attitude didn’t surprise me. If the joy goes, there’s no point, is there? In truth, I knew the feeling, I was getting tired of trawling from one hotel to another as well. A permanent home in Beaufort was looking more appealing with each passing day, especially with Laura in the picture. I saw the first hints of a home looking tangible.

  Ryder flicked on the lights and the whole area lit up. A faint hint of smoke filled the musty air. Two long bars lined opposite sides, mirrors behind them and some stray booze bottles were left on the glass shelves. Plush velour seating booths circled a dancefloor and a DJ cubicle was elevated on the back wall. It didn’t half look bad, just like Ryder said - upmarket.

  “Need much work?”

  Ryder shook his head. “Nah. A rebrand, some essentials. There’s some damage at back. Maybe a lick of paint. That’s it. Month at tops to get it opened after we start.”

  “Not bad, looks achievable at first glance.” I walked the perimeter of the room, checking out the condition of the booths and behind both bars. Yeah, there was nothing much needing doing at all. “I guess you best get sorting a team out then.”

  “Come on, let’s go down to the office.”

  I followed him down a long corridor, past the restrooms and other doors that were likely store cupboards. The office we walked into was spacious and had all the pre-requisite furniture an office would have. There were still reams of documents and a computer on the desk. Looked like the previous owner had beat a hasty retreat.

  “Martin has club history, right? He’d be the right fit, don’t you think?”

  “Yeah, you might be right,” I agreed.

  “Charlie was strong arming the previous guy. He refused to sell to him, refused to run his drugs through the here. This was the only Brighton club that didn’t have a drug problem. There’s fire damage out the back where Charlie’s boys tried to light the place up. Got him scared and he wanted out.” He picked up some papers from the desk and flicked through them absently.

  “He doesn’t fucking change, does he?”

  “Nope.” Ryder kicked at the desk leg and threw the papers back onto the table. “He’s got a pack of runners. Youngish lads in their twenties, thugs. Fucking brutal when confronted with the word no.”

  I sighed, knowing exactly where Ryder’s head was at. He’d been in a Razer Gang when I’d met him. What I hadn’t known at the time was his father and my father had been Razer boys too. Original Razer Boys. Thugs. Runners. Racketeers. Murderers. Notorious. Run down from the London Gangs to fleece the racecourses. Therein lay my Italian heritage, my father was an immigrant whereas Ryder’s was as cockney as they came. The gangs hadn’t died out, racketeering had, they were a different breed now and what Ryder had been doing when I met him was typically the tip of Charlie’s iceberg. I wondered how much of Brighton Charlie still run. If he was still top dog. Albanians had swept in years ago which was bound to have made a dent in what Charlie was bringing in and peddling out.

  I could see the wheels turning in Ryder’s head, he wanted to piss off Charlie and saw the club as an opportunity. He wasn’t a vengeful guy, not at all, but this was Charlie we were talking about and Ryder had justification to feel the way he did. He wanted some payback for what the man had put him through when he was a kid.

  “You think this is wise, bro?”

  He looked at me with that far away glaze that often came across him. “Probably not, but you get it?”

  “Your life’s going well. You don’t need this.”

  “I do, Lucca, I do. I’m not asking for anything, you don’t need to come in on this. You’re heading in the right direction too.”

  I stepped up to him and grabbed him by the back of the neck, dragging him closer so my head was butted against his. “You’re my brother. You need me, want me? I’m there, no questions, jackass.”

  He continued to look at the floor, the gravity of the moment between us heavy. My best friend was caught between a rock and a hard place. “I love Taylor,” he spoke tenderly, “I can’t settle and have what I want without putting Charlie down. If this is the only way? I have to at least try.”

  “What are we talking here, Ryder? Out of business or not breathing?”

  “I don’t care. I want the two point five kids and the white picket fence. I can’t have that until I put Charlie to bed.
”

  I didn’t respond. I knew where he was with Taylor. It was in the way he looked at her, the way he touched her, spoke about her. My boy was head over heels and it was such a beautiful fucking thing to watch. I was all in, always would be for this man. People often talked of soul mates as love interests, the person you spent your life with. I didn’t agree with that for a single second. My soul mate stood a mere foot away and I was pledging my all to him, like I’d done many a time before, and undoubtedly would many a time in the future.

  “Let’s go pay Charlie a visit then.”

  * * *

  The man wasn’t challenging to find; Charlie’s primary office had never moved. Ryder strolled up to the nondescript black door tucked away down a piss smelling, dingy alleyway, like he had no care in the world. I clocked a young group of lads off to the side of the door, figured they were the runner’s Ryder had mentioned earlier. Why else would they be loitering around a back alley at three in the afternoon? I side eyed them, scarcely paying attention.

  I stood behind Ryder while he jabbed a button on an intercom half way up the door. I noted the two security cameras above him moved at the same time. A short, stocky guy pushed his way between Ryder’s back and my front, eyeing me up and down. I’m sure he was going for the intimidating look, he was so spazzed out on whatever he’d shoved up his nose - his saucered eyes testament - he’d failed to notice the significant height difference between us. He was having a laugh. I was at least a foot taller and that was hunched over. I drew to my full height, getting in his face.

  “Fucking move, dickhead.”

  Ryder chuckled in front of me. I scowled at the prick trying to stare me down. I caught movement from my side, a tattooed hand reaching out to grab the short guy’s collar, dragging him away. I scrutinised them both, watching the tattooed guy throw his mate against the opposite wall. He looked over at me, nothing friendly about him. I took note of the tattoo etched on his face, positive I’d meet the punk again at some point in the future.

  “What the fuck are you doing?” he growled at the stupid dick against the wall.