Aftermath (Dividing Line #6)

by Heather Atkinson

  “She did know. That sob story she gave us was bullshit.”

  “I believed her. All she did was tell Jan Jordan where I was.”

  “Isn’t that enough?” he exclaimed.

  “Not for me. Mikey will have her executed if we give the word. Is that what you want?”

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “I fucking do.”

  “Alex and the Jordans were ultimately responsible for what happened to Thomas and I will not condemn someone else to death for it, someone I think might be saved.”

  “Saved? Jesus Christ Rachel that woman is beyond saving. She should be locked up in the funny farm. We should tell Mikey to do the world a favour and go ahead.”

  “I won’t do it.”

  “She contributed to Thomas’s death.”

  “She didn’t.”

  He shot to his feet and paced the room.

  “Killing’s the easy option,” she told him. “I’m tired of it. If you go ahead you will regret it.”

  “I can safely say I won’t.”

  “She will haunt you for the rest of your life, you will never be free of her.” She went to him and cradled his face between her hands, forcing him to stop pacing. “The people who took our son from us are dead. Killing your sister won’t bring Thomas back, nothing can and we have to live with that,” she said, letting her own tears fall. “No more murder, especially not our own blood. We’ve lost too many.”

  Ryan clung onto her ferociously. “I miss him every day. I can’t stop wondering what sort of little boy he’d be now, if he’d like Spongebob and Lego like his brothers. Sometimes I picture him running around, asleep in his little bed, what it would be like to cuddle him. Oh fuck,” he breathed, pressing his face into her hair.

  “I know babe, I know,” she soothed, her tears mingling with his own. “But Jules shouldn’t be punished because we’ll never get to find out.”

  “She stopped you getting taken again, she stopped my worst nightmare from happening and for that reason alone I’ll let her live.”

  “Thank you, thank you,” she said over and over, weak with relief.

  “Right, I understand,” said Mikey. “Sorry to drop that on you but I thought you had a right to know. Yeah, you too. Bye Rach,” he said before hanging up.

  Mikey stared at the phone in his hand, not sure how he felt about Rachel and Ryan deciding Jules should live. Part of him had hoped they’d tell him to go ahead. Grant could have put two bullets in the back of her skull, problem solved, but that was selfish. Not even he really believed she was responsible for what happened to Thomas, that was on Alex and the Jordans, but he wanted temptation out of his path. That encounter with her in the flat had genuinely frightened him, not a feeling he was used to. He worshipped Amber, she was perfect but there was just something about Jules, although he had no idea what. Killing her so he wouldn’t be tempted to stray was plain wrong, he would just have to be careful not to be so weak again.

  Amber’s curly red head popped round the door. “Everything okay? You look really pale.”

  “Fine, just a bit tired,” he said, forcing a smile.

  “You’ve been working so hard lately,” she said, entering the room, closing the study door behind her.

  He smiled and pulled her to him, enjoying how tiny her waist was beneath his big hands. “Tell you what, it’s Saturday tomorrow. How about I have a day off and take you and Jamie out?”

  “That would be lovely,” she smiled, going up on her tiptoes to kiss him. “Let’s go to that new theme park. There’s lots to do for Jamie’s age.”

  “Sounds good,” he said, kissing her, pushing her back onto his desk, his fingers scrabbling at the hem of her skirt.

  “Careful, I’m on your pen,” she grimaced, pulling a biro out from under her backside.

  “Sorry,” he said with his charming grin.

  “What’s wrong? You’re frantic.”

  “It’s been a difficult few days. I need you Amber.”

  She welcomed him and once again his wife stamped out all thoughts of Jules.

  Jules sat in the flat she’d been forced to live in, chain-smoking, pondering whether she should just grab her stuff and run while she still had the chance. Ryan would want her dead, of that she was certain, but it was possible Rachel wouldn’t allow it, not after she’d helped her escape from Cole’s men. There was something honourable about Rachel Law, something slightly old fashioned that meant she never forgot a favour and always paid back her debts. Allowing her to live would be her way of coughing up. She hoped.

  While she was still deciding what to do the front door opened, even though she’d locked it.

  “You have your own key,” she said, feeling even more miserable.

  “Of course,” replied Mikey.

  Jules waited with baited breath as he entered and closed the door behind him. Although he was capable of finishing her off on his own it was a relief to see he was alone. She felt sure he would have brought Grant if he was going to kill her.

  “Why aren’t you ready?” he said.

  “You mean ready to be taken into the woods and shot?”

  “I mean ready for the MMA fight. It starts in an hour. Rachel and Ryan said you live.”

  Jules refused to blow out the breath of relief wanting to burst out of her ribcage. “And what do you think about that?”

  “What I said still stands. Last chance. One foot wrong and you’re gone. Permanently.”

  “I won’t forget.”

  “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got five minutes. Any longer and I go without you.”

  Jules stubbed out the cigarette and disappeared into the bedroom to change. She returned precisely four minutes later wearing her black leather jacket, figure-hugging black jeans and a cropped black sleeveless vest that revealed plenty of snake curling around her exposed abdomen. Despite how quick she’d been she had even managed to put on make-up, eyes heavy with black, lips a slash of red. Her glossy dark hair was for once styled. She looked good, really good.

  “Right, that’s me,” she said, picking up her mobile phone.

  “Wait a minute. Take off the jacket.”

  Jules thought it prudent to take Cassandra’s advice and keep her wisecracks to herself. When she held the jacket out to him he snatched it off her and began searching the pockets.

  “May I ask what you’re doing?” she said politely.

  “Checking for weapons.” He was glad to see her wrists were bare of the leather sheaths.

  Once he’d ascertained the jacket didn’t contain an arsenal he told her to hold up her arms. She watched him as he approached, that knowing smile playing on her lips.

  “Turn around,” he said when he caught her scent. His palms sweated as he patted her down, running them over her hips and down her legs, ignoring her soft exhale as he ran his hands up her inner thighs.

  “Alright, you’re clean,” he said, straightening up, dismayed by how shaky his voice was.

  She turned back to him with that irritating smile. “You missed a bit,” she said, looking down at her chest.

  “That top barely conceals you never mind anything else. If you do have a weapon down there it’ll be too small to be much of a threat. Before we go I wanted to ask about Leighton Parker?”

  Jules vigorously shook her head. “Not yet.”

  “When?”

  “When I can bring myself to talk about it.”

  Genuine distress filled her eyes, her fists clenched and unclenched themselves and her left knee started to jiggle.

  “Alright. Let’s go,” he said.

  Jules pulled her jacket back on and followed him to the door.

  “Just one more thing,” he said before they left. “I’m very happily married to an amazing woman so stop all the flirting, it’s annoying. And we’re related.”

  “It’s legal between cousins,” she replied.

  “What did I just say?”

  “Sorry, I can’t help myself ar
ound good-looking men and you boss are very fine.”

  “You need to learn some self control. You’ll be seeing Cassandra twice a week instead of once a week.”

  It was his turn to smile when her grin dropped.

  It was noisy in the packed arena, Jules and Mikey negotiating their way to their seats at the front, right before the cage.

  “Brilliant,” she grinned. “We’ll be able to feel the blood spatters. Alright little bruv?” she said, nodding at Jez.

  “Hello Jules. Settling in?” He was much more zen about her little nicknames than Ryan and Mikey.

  “Great, just great,” she said, looking very excited at the prospect of the show.

  Mikey, sat in the middle of the two of them, merely raised an eyebrow.

  “How are you getting on with the vampire queen?” Jez whispered in his ear.

  “Oh fantastic,” he said sarcastically. “It’s like trying to manage a bipolar rattlesnake.”

  “Regretting your decision?” said Jez, dropping his voice so she wouldn’t hear him.

  “Only time will tell. There’s Dane.”

  He was sat across the room to their left, likewise right at the front of the cage. He gave them a nod, his eyes flicking to Jules, unable to resist. She merely glanced at him disinterestedly before looking away. Despite the distance Mikey could see the muscle in his jaw throb at her dismissal.

  The fighters entered the ring to moody heavy metal music, Jackson wearing nothing but tight black shorts, the name of his gym emblazoned across his backside in bright orange letters. He turned, arms in the air to wave at the cheering crowd, the massive tiger on his back Mikey had seen on the camera roaring back at them, deep red welts in its face from Jules’s nails. He’d made no attempt to cover them up and Mikey wondered if he was wearing them as a badge of honour. On the other hand, a professional MMA fighter couldn’t be seen wearing make-up. His arms and shoulders sported black tribal tattoos, which only highlighted the muscles even more.

  “Christ look at that. Isn’t he stunning?” exclaimed Jules.

  “Have you forgotten our conversation already?” said Mikey.

  “I only meant he’s an amazing fighter.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  His opponent was equally massive, a large black man with glowering dark eyes. He and Jackson were fighting for the Professional Middleweight Championship title, both equally matched in strength and brutality but Jules knew out of the ring they were the best of friends.

  “The opponent standing to my left,” called the announcer, having to yell over the noise of the crowd, “has a record of twenty one wins and no losses. Weighing in at one hundred and ninety pounds, please welcome Jackson The Jackhammer Driscoll.”

  The crowd went into ecstatics as Jackson raised his gloved hands and strutted around the ring. The announcer had to raise his voice even more to be heard.

  “The opponent standing to my right has a record of seventeen wins and one loss. Weighing in at one hundred and eighty five pounds, please welcome Benson Barbed Wire Brisco.”

  Jules scowled at the leggy blond who sashayed around the ring with a placard announcing it was the start of the first five minute round. “They’re so fucking pointless,” she said, gesturing angrily at the woman. “We’re not stupid, we know what round it is.”

  “A little treat for the guys,” smiled Jez.

  “Those tits are plastic you know.” She said it so loudly the woman heard her and frowned.

  “Jealous she gets close to Jackson?” said Mikey.

  “I don’t get jealous,” she practically spat.

  As Jackson took his place for the fight he noticed Jules sitting there and gave her a smile and a wink, which appeased her.

  There was no dancing around each other. Both men went at each other savagely, a lot riding on this fight. There was no such thing as best friends inside the cage. Both fighters managed to land a few punches and kicks, Jackson constantly switching his stance to make it difficult for his opponent to judge timing and distance.

  “We had a little trouble earlier,” said Jez. They liked to discuss business here, all the noise meant it would be very hard for anyone to overhear and impossible for the police to record them.

  “Let me guess,” replied Mikey. “Joel Starklaw?”

  “Correct.”

  “I’m sick of that lairy bastard. He needs a fucking good hiding.”

  “Already done. Knowing him though he won’t learn his lesson and stay down.”

  Thirty seconds from the end of the first round Benson went in hard, pushing Jackson back against the cage, attempting to get an arm around his neck but he twisted, Benson losing his grip and Jackson freed himself, turned and hooked one of his arms under Benson’s left arm and pressed him up against the cage, fighting to get the second hook in. Benson struggled furiously, driving an elbow into Jackson’s ribs, who released him just as the round ended.

  “Shit,” sighed Jules. “Jax was so close then.”

  “It could go either way,” said Jez, leaning across Mikey to talk to her. “Both fighters are equally matched.”

  They enjoyed a conversation about the fight, Mikey sat silently between them while the fighters went to their corners and prepared for the second round. When they faced each other again both were drenched with sweat but still alert and eager for more. As the time ticked down the fight became ever more brutal until Benson launched himself at Jackson, knocking him flat on his back and the two started to wrestle. Benson got Jackson’s left leg in a lock and twisted.

  “Throw him off for fuck’s sake,” Jules screamed, leaping to her feet. “I don’t sleep with losers.”

  “Jesus, she is so embarrassing,” grimaced Mikey when a few people looked their way and laughed. “I’m not coming here with her again.”

  “I think she’s funny,” smiled Jez.

  “You’re not the only one,” he said, indicating the amused faces around them as Jules’s tirade continued. “I hope poor Jackson can’t hear her.”

  Judging by the look on his face he was too absorbed by the fight to notice, face screwed up and teeth gritted as he dealt with the pain, the tendons in his leg on the verge of tearing. He managed to grab Benson’s free arm, pull it up along his chest and push his hips into the air, painfully hyperextending the elbow joint. Benson grimaced with pain and both men were forced to release their grips before sustaining serious injury.

  Without pausing for breath they went at each other again, arms and legs red and bleeding from the friction with the mat. The punches came thick and fast, but it was when Jackson delivered a punch to Benson’s gut that the tide started to turn. His eyes bulged and it took his body a few seconds to register the pain before he crumpled in two.

  “Liver shot,” Jules exclaimed joyfully. “Always causes a delayed reaction.”

  Taking advantage of his opponent’s debility, Jackson knocked Benson face down, climbed on his back and attempted to hook his feet into the insides of his thighs while wrapping one arm around his neck. The crowd were on their feet as Benson struggled and writhed, not making it easy for Jackson to get a grip on him.

  Jules frowned when they rolled about the floor together in a knot. “For fuck’s sake Jax, are you trying to shag him? Finish him off,” she yelled. “There’s only twenty five seconds left.”

  Almost in response, Jackson delivered several rapid blows to Benson’s head, wearing him down before managing to get his arm around his neck, placing the inside of his elbow against his throat, hugging himself and pushing out his chest to increase the pressure. Left with the choice of submitting or passing out, Benson pounded the mat and it was over.

  Jackson stood and held his gloved hand out to Benson, who accepted with a gracious smile and leapt to his feet, the two men hugging.

  “Fighters to the centre of the ring for the official decision,” called the announcer. “Your winner tonight with a Rear Naked Choke is Jackson The Jackhammer Driscoll.”

  “Yes,” cried Jules, jumping up excit
edly.

  After the two fighters hugged again and congratulated each other on a good match, the champion’s belt was fastened around Jackson’s waist and he leapt up onto the top of the cage to salute the crowd. Spotting a cheering Jules he gave her a big smile and waved her over. She scrambled to the top of the cage and planted a kiss on his lips before dropping nimbly back to the floor. She turned to face the two security guards hurrying towards her with a raised eyebrow and they went away.

  “That was fucking fantastic,” enthused Jules. She gazed up at her previous night’s booty call admiringly, who had jumped back down and was exiting the ring, chatting with his opponent.

  Mikey looked towards Dane, who had watched Jules and Jackson stony-faced, his body immobile, a testament to how much the kiss upset him. Once again Mikey marvelled at the power Jules wielded over men. It was said she’d been the real influence behind Lucifer’s Shadow and now he was understanding why. She would have found controlling a bunch of hairy-arsed bikers no problem.

  “Where are you going?” said Mikey when she started to walk away.

  “The toilet.” She pouted when he looked uncertain. “If you can’t trust me to take a piss on my own this is never going to work.”

  “You’re right. Just behave yourself.”

  Mikey saw Jax watch her go with puppy dog eyes, ignoring the women swooning around him, and he wanted to grab the man and tell him to stop being so pathetic.

  CHAPTER 35

  After meeting up with Jules again the three of them exited the arena, Mikey and Jez so absorbed in their conversation that they failed to see the approaching danger. But Jules did. She blocked the knife just inches from Jez’s chest, kicked the man in the stomach and punched him in the face. The man staggered away, a hand pressed to his bleeding nose. She tried to make chase but he was swallowed up by the crowd.

  “Shit,” she hissed.

  “Who the fuck was that?” said Mikey as he and Jez caught up with her.

  “Don’t know, didn’t see his face, he had a hat pulled down low but he was a small skinny runt.”

  “Ollie Starklaw, Joel’s younger brother,” replied Jez. “He’s a fucking psycho. Joel uses him for all his hits.”