Shattered (Dividing Line #5)

by Heather Atkinson

  The thought of her husband gave her the impetus she needed to get up off the floor and away from the savage assault. She rolled out of Venom’s reach, sprang to her feet, snatched up a large piece of broken wood and whacked her round the face with it. Blood exploded from Venom’s mouth and she fell to her knees, backing up when Rachel advanced on her with the weapon. Venom’s eyes were alight with a mania that reminded her of Alex.

  “You won’t kill me,” said Venom, blood and saliva dripping from her lips in thick strings.

  “Give me one reason why not.”

  “I’m your husband’s sister.”

  Rachel hesitated, the wood still clutched in her hand. “Lexie?”

  Venom spat the blood out and shook her head. “No. Jules.”

  Rachel studied her with a confused frown. She’d never heard that name before. “You’re lying,” she said, raising the wood over her head, ready to bring down on the top of her skull.

  “Are you willing to take that chance?”

  “Yes,” said Rachel, slamming the wood down as hard as she could. But before she made contact something ran into her, knocking her off-balance and she missed.

  Injured and bleeding badly from the mouth, Venom scrambled to her feet and rushed for the exit at the rear of the building.

  Rachel found herself face down on the floor with a suffocating weight on top of her.

  “You killed my brothers you fucking bitch, I’ll kill you.”

  His hands went around her throat but Col was still dazed from the taser and when she flung herself onto her side he simply toppled off her. Finally she spied the gun that she’d dropped and ran for it, snatching it up just as Col rose and she let off a shot. It hit him in the stomach and he crumpled to the floor.

  Without pausing for breath she ran to where she thought Ryan was, the fact that the gunshots had ceased scaring her. She raced round a pile of junk just in time to see Ryan and Alex throw down their now-empty guns and charge at each other.

  Because of the shoot-out Dane and Riley found themselves unable to get out of the car at the gate so they were forced to drive the Land Rover straight into one of the outbuildings. The four patch members had firmly entrenched themselves and Mikey and the others were finding it impossible to shift them.

  “I need to get on a roof,” said Riley. “Did you get the weapon I asked for?”

  Dane nodded and reached into the backseat to pull back a blanket, revealing a sniper rifle.

  “Beautiful,” he smiled, snatching it up and jumping out of the car.

  Riley snuck inside the main house, which was in desperate need of repair, and rushed up the stairs, lithely jumping over the holes in the steps. He climbed out of one of the bedroom windows and hauled himself onto the roof. The slates were in a fragile state and he had to make his way carefully, lying down slowly, distributing his weight evenly. From up here he had an excellent view of two of the patches. He took aim, two sprays of blood through the scope and they were down. He took aim at the third who had heard the shots but had no idea from where they’d come. He was crawling along the ground on his belly in an attempt to change hiding places but as Riley was above him he couldn’t escape the devastating volley and he was hit twice in the head. However the fourth was shielded by a heap of old metal.

  “Shit. Dane, I can reach the fourth one,” he said into the Bluetooth kit in his ear.

  Dane ran back to the Land Rover, jumped in, pulled on his seat belt, started the engine and hit the accelerator. The vehicle sped out of the building, across the muddy yard and ploughed straight into the fourth patch, crushing him beneath the heavy wheels.

  “Shut your whining, dickhead,” he called to Jasper in the back, who sounded to be crying. “Can you see anymore from up there?” Dane said into his Bluetooth headpiece.

  “Nope. It’s all clear. I’m coming down.”

  Dane jumped out of the van. “You can come out now lads,” he called. As they came out from behind their hiding places he grinned. “You may say thank you.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” said Mikey, aching all over.

  Battler and Bruiser exited the barn and checked all the bodies to make sure they were no longer a threat.

  “I stink of shit,” said Frankie, sniffing the lapel of his jacket. “It’s your fault you bastards,” he yelled, kicking at the dead body sticking out from under the wheels of the Land Rover.

  “Where’s Ryan and Rachel?” said Riley, jogging towards them, sniper rifle slung across his back.

  Without another word the nine men ran into the dairy.

  Rachel could only watch as Ryan and Alex clashed with tremendous force, delivering powerful punches that would have physically devastated lesser men. She couldn’t even attempt to intervene, knowing if she tried she would be obliterated. All she could do was watch with the gun in her hand and wait for an opportunity to shoot Alex without hitting her husband but she knew Ryan wouldn’t want that. He had to kill him himself or he would never be satisfied.

  She was forced to leap out of the way when Ryan was thrown halfway across the room but before she could run to his side he was back on his feet.

  “No,” he shouted at her when she raised the gun at Alex.

  Reluctantly she lowered the weapon, wishing he’d let her shoot him and end this now. Either way Alex wasn’t getting out of this alive. Even if he did manage to overpower Ryan she would kill him.

  Ryan rushed Alex, driving his fist up into his stomach and folding him in half. But Alex wrapped his arms around Ryan’s waist, picked him up and slammed him back against the wall. Ryan brought both fists down on Alex’s back, making a loud hollow thud and Rachel saw Alex grimace with pain but he didn’t let it stop him as he punched Ryan twice rapidly in the ribs. Ryan managed to throw him off but Alex came straight back at him, swinging his big fists at Ryan’s face, who managed to avoid all the blows but one, which snapped his head back. Alex pummelled him in the stomach and ribs, putting every ounce of his strength from those powerful shoulders into it, driving the air from Ryan’s body. One more punch to his face put him on his back.

  “No Rachel,” Ryan yelled when she raised the gun again.

  He picked himself up off the floor, eyes growing heavy with pain and fatigue.

  “She’s going to watch me kill you,” goaded Alex. “Then I’ll cut her throat wide open, I’ll take her head right off but not before I’ve fucked her like the whore she is.”

  Ryan finally let go of the burning rage inside him that he’d been so tightly controlling. It erupted out of him, drawing a roar of rage from his throat, banishing the pain and tiredness, adrenaline flooding every muscle. He rushed at Alex, throwing his fists at him so fast he was helpless to stop them, every impact, every broken bone only fuelling the fire, giving him more strength and Alex crumpled beneath the savage assault.

  With another bellow of rage, Ryan picked him up bodily and lifted him in the air in an awesome display of strength that caused Rachel’s jaw to drop open. Ryan flung him to the floor and Alex landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. Before he could rise Ryan’s booted foot came down hard on his neck. Alex’s eyes lit up with panic and his hands went to his throat. Rachel surmised his windpipe must have been damaged because he didn’t seem able to take in any air.

  Ryan circled his writhing nemesis, enjoying his fear and pain, chest heaving with exertion, fists bruised and bloodied.

  Once he’d tired of watching his struggles Ryan crouched beside Alex and pulled the large knife he’d saved just for this purpose.

  “You reap what you sow Alex. This is for Rachel,” said Ryan before dragging the blade across his throat, pushing down hard, ensuring he cut through both arteries. Alex’s warm blood sprayed across the front of his t-shirt, the droplets hitting his face.

  As Rachel watched Alex die she thought of him proudly standing as best man at her wedding to Danny, tenderly cradling Leah in his arms at the christening, holding her tightly as she cried her eyes out after Danny was murdered, helping her hu
nt down his killer, telling her he’d support her in whatever she chose to do when she was a widow.

  When his eyes settled on her they held something of the man she used to know. Blood spurted through the fingers of the hand he pressed to the gaping wound in a futile attempt to stem the flow. His mouth opened and closed, pleading in his eyes.

  “Rach,” he managed to gurgle.

  She knelt by his side and took his hand, which he grasped onto tightly, fear of death overruling his hatred. He choked as his lifeblood pumped out of him, pooling on the dirty concrete floor. It wasn’t quick like in the movies, this was a long, drawn-out death. His skin turned ashen white and his eyes, which were fixated on her, grew heavy, a horrible choking gurgle emanating from the back of his throat. Finally he gave one last awful death rattle, his eyes slid shut and he went still, his hand falling away from hers.

  It was over.

  “Are you okay?” Ryan said quietly.

  She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, feeling Alex’s warm sticky blood transfer itself onto her clothes but she didn’t care. Her husband had slayed the monster and she loved him even more for it. Ryan held onto her tightly, showering her face with kisses.

  She looked up at him and smiled, wiping the blood from his face with her fingertips. “Can we go home now?”

  “Not quite,” he replied as the others ran into the room.

  CHAPTER 37

  Ryan and Rachel straightened up, looking like something out of a slasher movie.

  “Way-hay, the king’s fucking dead,” smiled Frankie. He strutted up to the body and kicked at it with the toe of his shoe. “Now I can take my trophy.”

  Frankie picked up the knife Ryan had dropped, knelt beside Alex and lined the blade up across his cut neck.

  “No,” said Rachel. “You’re not taking his head.”

  Frankie looked back at her over his shoulder, surprise and outrage written all over his face. “How no? The job’s already half done anyway,” he said, gesturing to the gaping wound in Alex’s neck.

  “I’m asking you Frankie to show respect to Frank, Martina and Danny by not taking his head. Take another part of him, just not his head, please.” She couldn’t bear to watch him being decapitated.

  Frankie weighed up his options, forgoing his prize to gain the goodwill of his new business partners. “Alright Sweetheart, how about a hand?”

  “That’s fine. Thank you Frankie.”

  He nodded and she looked away as he started to hack at the limb, the dull squelching sound stomach-churning. Jamesie produced a box and Frankie placed the appendage inside, glee in his eyes. Jamesie put the lid back on and stood with the box tucked under his arm, the large hand clearly visible, which looked bizarre.

  Rachel moved to stand beside Ryan, feeling sick to her stomach and very melancholy. The room stank of death and she desperately wanted to wash Alex’s blood away.

  “So, here are the new king and queen of Manchester,” said Frankie, gesturing at Ryan and Rachel. “That’s if you’re still going to take the throne?” His voice and eyes were heavy with warning. If they didn’t they were dead.

  They glanced at each other, reading the look in each other’s eyes perfectly. Ryan’s heart sank. This wasn’t what he wanted for her.

  When they both looked back at Frankie and nodded, he grinned and clapped his hands together. “Fucking fantastic.”

  There was a moment of mute shock as Ryan and Rachel raised their guns and aimed them at Frankie and his men.

  “What the fuck is this?” demanded Frankie.

  “You should have teamed up with Mikey instead. We’re not letting anything or anyone drag us back into this life,” said Ryan.

  Rachel didn’t hesitate to pull the trigger because once again she was fighting for her family’s future, for their very lives.

  The gunfire was deafening.

  Two of her bullets ploughed into Frankie, knocking him backwards. The others went wide but she wasn’t worried because Battler and Bruiser reacted like lightening. They raised the big shotguns and took out Paul, the shot at such close range ripping his body apart. Ryan finished off Jamesie before unloading the rest of the clip into Frankie, but to their astonishment, Frankie refused to stay down. With his smart suit ripped and bloodied, he dragged himself back to his feet and took out his hatchet.

  “Traitors. You fucking traitors,” he screamed, blood dribbling from his lips, pointing the weapon at Ryan then Rachel in turn. He looked like something out of a nightmare as his wounds leaked blood and his eyes bulged.

  “We kept telling you it wasn’t what we wanted Frankie,” said Ryan, “but you didn’t listen. As usual you tried to get your own way but not this time. You brought this on yourself.”

  “No, this can’t happen. I can’t die in fucking England,” Frankie screamed.

  He raised the hatchet, a roar of rage tearing from his throat and - to their astonishment - he actually charged them. They all raised their guns and fired, his body jumping and jerking as the bullets ploughed into him, by some miracle managing to keep the hatchet in the air. He looked at them one by one with a fiery hate, took two shuffling steps forward then released a groan and toppled backwards. The hatchet fell from his hand and hit the ground with a loud clang. Just for good measure Riley pumped three more bullets into him as he lay dead on the ground, mouth still wide open in a war cry.

  “Can’t say I’m sad he’s gone. He was a pain in the arse,” said Riley, coolly pocketing the gun.

  “Oh Jesus Christ, what have you done?” exclaimed Mikey, unable to believe what he was seeing. “Now we’re going to have Glasgow after our blood.”

  “No we won’t because you will tell them the man who killed Frankie McVay is dead himself,” said Ryan.

  “You mean, pin it on Alex?”

  “Yes.”

  “But this still happened on our patch.”

  “And in retaliation you killed the person responsible. You have far too lucrative a deal with Glasgow for Frankie’s successor to want to ruin it. They might even be grateful for the path being cleared for them. Frankie was not well-liked.”

  As they debated Frankie’s death Rachel couldn’t help but stare at his body. She admired the fact that he’d gone down fighting, not in the least bit afraid. It was inevitable a man like Frankie McVay died by the sword.

  Mikey, reassured by Ryan that they wouldn’t be slaughtered by a vicious gang of vengeful Glaswegians, bent down and picked up the hatchet. “I think I’ll take my own trophy.”

  “Good man,” smiled Ryan.

  Mikey’s clean-up crew arrived, led by Declan and his brothers.

  “Take it away and get rid of it,” Mikey told them, pointing at Alex’s body. He was glad he sounded cold and detached because inside he hated seeing his cousin like this. He hadn’t wanted it to come to this.

  “Put him in Frank’s grave,” Rachel told them as they started to wrap up their old boss in plastic. “That’s what he’d want.”

  “Don’t you think you’re giving him more than he deserves?” said Jez.

  “I’m thinking of Alex, I’m thinking of family who aren’t here to make their wishes known.”

  The men looked questioningly at Mikey.

  “Do as she says,” he told them.

  She looked to Ryan. “Now can we go home?”

  He nodded and took her hand. “Let’s go get our babies back.”

  The thought of returning to Devon and their children made her want to cry with happiness but she wouldn’t because she was Rachel Law. She would save her tears for when she was alone with her husband, the one person in the world she gave her whole self too.

  Rachel squinted as they walked outside into the daylight. Never before had she appreciated the beauty of the countryside around her as she did then. It was like emerging into another world, moving from a dark pit of death into light and freedom. Alex and Frankie were gone. Now they could go home and live out the rest of their lives in peace.

  Rachel
had heard enough gunshots in her time so she didn’t understand why she didn’t recognise the sound at first. Ryan was pitched onto his back and before she could ascertain what was going on Battler had pushed her behind the shelter of the car.

  There were shouts around them and while the men ran off in pursuit of something she hunched over Ryan, shaking him. “Wake up, wake up Ryan,” she cried.

  But his eyes remained closed.

  When she saw the ragged hole in his t-shirt, suddenly it hit her. He’d been shot, just like Danny. The past started replaying itself before her eyes. She was going to lose another husband in the same horrible way. But this time it was Ryan.

  “Not again, no please God not again,” she said, tears already running down her face. “Ryan.” She screamed his name out loud, the sound almost drowning out the retort of gunshots in the distance. “Don’t you dare fucking die on me.”

  His eyes slowly opened and he released a groan. “I’m not dying.” He raised his t-shirt to reveal the bullet-proof vest beneath, the bullet embedded in the Kevlar.

  Rachel was so relieved she laughed out loud and hugged him tightly. “Thank you,” she whispered over and over into his chest, tears still coursing down her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

  She helped him sit up and pull off the vest, just to make sure the skin hadn’t been broken but the only injury was a large purple bruise.

  “That stung,” he said jovially.

  “It’s not funny,” she rebuked, hitting him on the arm. “I thought you were a goner.”

  He flashed her his devastating smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

  As she clung onto him Ryan reached out to shake Battler’s hand, who had once again put himself in the line of fire to save her.