A flurry of punches by Judd shook the huge man even further and this caused the crowd to cheer as they sensed the victory of the underdog. But Judd made a mistake. As he lambasted the huge man with his kicks and punches, he got too close and Heavy was able to achieve some respite by grabbing Judd in a powerful bear hug resulting in lifting Judd clean off the floor.
Judd felt as though he was in a huge vice as Heavy tightened his grip and he was finding it more and more difficult to breathe. Now being held in line with Heavy’s height Judd released a head-butt which resulted in the breakage of Heavy’s nose but no effect on releasing his python-like grip.
Judd was close to losing consciousness and he knew he had to think fast to survive being literally crushed to death. He remembered the rules. There weren’t any, so he promptly chewed on Heavy’s podgy earlobe and nearly gagged as his mouth filled with blood and porky meat.
The extreme approach had worked. Heavy released his grip sending Judd crashing to the floor as he placed his hand to where his ear had once been.
Judd spat out the ear and got to his feet ready for the next round, but the fight didn’t evolve any further as Judd watched in amazement as Heavy’s head exploded before him. It took an age for the huge man to fall to the floor, dropping in stages. First to his knees and then finally to his final lifeless position laid out on the floor like a slain giant. There was no mistaking that Heavy was dead.
Many people had dived for cover at the sound of the gunshot and Enzo Durante was scanning the joint in a desperate attempt to detect who had fired the shot. His natural instinct was then to pull a gun on Judd.
“This wasn’t part of our deal, Enzo?” said Judd, sensing his life could be about to end.
But Judd Stone needn’t have worried because the second shot that came was so accurate that it hit Enzo’s hand and sent the gun spinning across the floor. The next shot entered the body of the New York gangster.
Enzo writhed in pain and as he looked up from the floor a figure crept over him and he wondered if he had entered Hell. Looking down at him was the face of a clown and an accompanying white glove was holding a smoking gun.
As Enzo lay there bleeding, he heard more gunshots all around. Once the shooting had stopped the clown spoke without the need to turn around to evidence his statement. “I think that’s the end of the Mafia in Birmingham. Oh except for the ones which my sister has procured from Detective Sergeant Mistry, they should be halfway through their torture by now. I wonder what is exactly happening to them as we speak. Is the blow lamp being utilised, or the pliers perhaps? I’ve always liked using the drill myself. It matters not.”
Durante recognised the voice which confirmed to him that he must be in hell. How was that voice coming from the face of a clown?
“I fucking hate clowns,” he said choking on his own blood.
It was then that Ray Talia removed the clown mask and allowed his cousin to look him in the eye one final time.
“Coulrophobia. Do you remember that word I taught you? I thought it would be a nice touch to wear a clown’s mask but then again you look just as scared of me now that I’ve removed it, Enzo. Now who’s a fucking pee-wee? Hey?”
A kick came hard into the Mafia’s boss’s side causing him to scream with pain. “Now who’s a fucking puppy dog lying on his back with his prick in the air? You won’t bully me again will you Enzo? You’re finished. Did you seriously believe that we would allow you to muscle in on our city? You underestimated the Birmingham gangster scene cousin Enzo. That was a big and arrogant mistake to make you fucking narcissist.”
“Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you,” another kick went into Durante’s body.
“My sister sends her love. Have a nice death,” and with those words, Ray Talia put his cousin out of his misery as he unleashed the remainder of his pistol’s bullets into his cousin’s jerking body.
Chapter Fifteen
The lush hotel room had been enhanced with a stunning display of aromatic candles. It was clear that a great deal of thought and effort had gone into preparing the correct mood for the occasion.
The bruised and battered body of Judd Stone lay beneath the satin sheets waiting for his reward. When they felt the timing to be right, and only then, the two ladies entered from the bathroom with an air of seduction that even Judd Stone had not experienced before.
“Do you like what you see?” enquired Roxy Pentelow asking probably the most ridiculous yet necessary question in history.
“Oh, indeed I do,” he answered.
“That’s good because it’s only right that we should show our appreciation,” stated Erica McDaid teasingly.
Roxy was dressed in a black Basque which contrasted beautifully with her blonde hair. Erica was wearing red lacy underwear which enhanced her busty figure and complemented her tanned skin and emerald eyes. Both ladies were wearing matching black stockings and Judd was mesmerised as the shapely pairs of legs slowly began to make their way towards his bed.
Not long after two pairs of breasts were dancing mischievously before his face.
“Watch those bruises ladies,” said Judd as the kissing and stroking began all over his body.
“Don’t worry we will be very careful not to hurt our hero,” said Erica in between kisses.
“Well that’s a shame,” joked Judd.
“Your wish is our command, Judd,” said Roxy oozing her natural sexiness.
“We can hurt you if you want us to. After all, you did save our lives.”
“I played a part but technically it was Sab who saved your lives.”
“Oh, maybe we should just stop and go away then? Perhaps we need to aim all of our attention and appreciation towards DS Mistry instead.”
“No that won’t be necessary, Erica,” replied Judd.
“Sometimes you just have to take one for the team.”
Once the giggling had stopped Judd Stone went on to enjoy the best evening of his life.
The End
To read more about Judd Stone take a look at Mind Guerrilla and the forthcoming books Club 27 and Lunar.
Heart Mended
By
Manda Mellett
Blurb
Losing the person, you love is soul destroying.
As Heart very well knows. Is there ever a way to come back from the devastation?
You can rebuild your life with a big hole in it. Even learn to survive., but can time bring healing, so you can begin to embrace it and come out the other side?
Chapter One
“Heart. Heart. Wake up.” I feel someone shaking my shoulder. Hard.
“Come on, babe. You’re dreaming.”
Jeez. Coming to with a start, feeling my body clammy with sweat, I realise she’s not wrong. Not so much of a dream though, it had been a fucking nightmare. My lungs are heaving as if I’d run a marathon. Though now awake, the horrors that have just been disturbing my sleep, still paint a vivid picture in my mind. I can feel and taste, the residual fear.
Fuck. Recently night terrors had been lessening, coming less often. Something must have triggered me having one tonight, bringing back the terror I’d felt. Fifteen months ago, Marc, my old lady had gone into labour while the compound had been surrounded by a wildfire. There had been no way of getting her out, and those babies weren’t going to wait. In reality, a medic with the fire crews had helped her birth both her twins safely, the wind dropping enough for them all to be taken out by helicopter shortly after. In my head though, I can’t stop thinking of how it could have gone so terribly wrong. Marc dying from complications, losing one or both of the twins. It haunts me in the dead of the night, 'what could have been,' holding me in their thrall, not allowing me to escape.
My arm goes around her, pulling her to me. Holding onto her tightly as I kiss the top of her head, breathing in the perfume that’s uniquely hers, convincing myself she’s really here.
“Marc, if I lost you…” My voice breaks
and I’m unable to complete my sentence.
“I’m here, Heart. That’s all I can promise you, babe. I’m here right now.”
That she doesn’t offer a guarantee she might not be able to fulfil is understandable. Both of us have seen loss in our lives. My wife had been killed. Marc’s whole family wiped out in front of her eyes courtesy of a drunk driver. What it’s taught me is that nothing is forever. When you least expect it, your life can be turned on its head, everything gone in a blink of an eye. Does it make me hold on to my woman and kids more firmly? To want never to let them out of my sight? Fuck, yes it does. Going through such pain again would kill me.
I hear a whimper, quiet at first, then increasing in volume.
“That’ll be Jacob,” Marc whispers, already sliding out of bed.
As the cry is joined by another, I smile in the darkness.
“There goes Isabel.” It’s par for the course for one to wake the other up.
A quick peck is place on my cheek. “Go back to sleep, Heart. I’ve got this.”
Instead, I swing my legs off the side of the bed and follow her into the twins’ room, not wanting to slide back into my nightmare again, relishing more the thought of enjoying the reality I have for now. My woman—not my wife, she’ll never be that—and the children we created together.
Going to the cots placed side by side, she picks up Jacob, placing a gentle kiss to his forehead. His mother’s touch seeming to soothe him, he settles and quietens as she takes him to the changing mat. Isabel’s cries are increasing in volume. I go to my daughter, pacifier in hand. It hadn’t taken long to discover it would take more than a cuddle to soothe her. Peace having at last descended, I take her to the second changing mat.
We work comfortably side by side. Once the babies are in clean diapers, I keep them amused while Marc heats up two bottles of milk. Then wait until Marc has Jacob settled, before placing Isabel in the crook of her free arm. I stand back, admiring my woman as she feeds both twins at the same time.
Could there ever be a more beautiful sight in the world?
My dream comes back to me. The thought I could have lost her, all of them, almost brings me to my knees.
“Daddy.”
Raising my eyebrow toward Marc and sighing, I glance at the clock. Yeah, morning has come already for Amy, my, our, six-year-old daughter. No chance she’ll be going back to sleep now.
Our door is already cracked open in case Amy needs us in the night. It’s only two steps to her room. I pause on the threshold. Grunt, that fucking puppy Marc adopted two years ago, is lying peacefully on Amy’s bed. As I often do, I shake my head while I watch him. He’d looked small enough at first, then when he started to sprout, my brothers began placing bets as to how big he was going to grow. I’m just hoping like fuck he’s stopped now. Whatever else is in his makeup, the wolfhound part seems to have won out.
“Grunt wants to go potty,” Amy tells me, her little face pouting. “He woke me, Daddy.”
I rather suspect it was the other way around. Grunt, once his eyes have closed, sleeps like the dead. My suspicions are confirmed when she asks, hopefully, “Can we take him for a walk?”
Amy loves her new siblings, but also enjoys her one on one time with me. I can’t deny her. I spent too long apart, lost in my own misery when Crystal, Amy’s mom, my wife, died. Now I appreciate every moment I spend with her. The fact she forgave me so easily, accepted me back into her life, sometimes makes me feel small.
“Let’s get you up and dressed then, sweetheart. Then we’ll take Grunt out.”
After telling Marc what we’re doing, it’s only a few minutes later when I step outside the house, Amy and Grunt bouncing along beside me. Grunt sniffing at every bush on the way, then stopping to take a dump. Just when Peg, the sergeant-at-arms is walking up. As I take out a black plastic bag and crouch down, the sergeant-at-arms laughs.
“Fuckin’ dog.”
Standing, I tie the handles together, wincing as a whiff of shit reaches my nostrils.
“Come on, you love him, Peg,” I chuckle.
Peg doesn’t look convinced, but instead of his usual scowl, his lips curve up. He’s a happier bastard now that he’s married and has a young son. His isn’t the only new kid on the compound either. Rock and Becca’s baby was born last month, and Slick and Ella’s shortly before that. With Joker and Lady’s toddler, and Prez and VP’s second children, the club’s become overrun with kids. Even Mouse has gained one, though his is older. A sulky sixteen year old. My mouth quirks, guess I’ve got the dreaded teenage phase coming sooner or later. I can’t complain about the influx of children, not when three of them belong to me. However, it’s certainly changing the dynamic of the Satan’s Devils MC. Not that it’s made us weak, the opposite in fact. We’ve got more to live for and protect. Heaven help anyone who fucks with us.
“Hey, Heart.” Blade, the enforcer, appears out of the blue and slaps my back hard, almost making me drop the bag full of shit. Swinging around I threaten to throw it at him. He laughs, and jumps back. As I go to throw the offending item into a nearby trash can, he bends down, listening to something Amy says to him, then shakes his head as he stands up. When he walks off chuckling, Amy stares wistfully after him.
“What’s up?” Amy’s pout makes me wonder what their conversation had been about.
“I asked if I could be his bridesmaid.”
I sigh deeply. “Thought we’d been through that. Blade and Tash are getting married quietly, they don’t want any fuss.”
Clearly, it’s hard to explain to a six-year-old girl.
“Daddy?”
“Sweetheart?”
“I can be your bridesmaid when you marry Mommy, can’t I?”
“Amy, darlin’. I know it’s hard for you to understand, but Marc and I aren’t getting married. We’re happy, just as we are, aren’t we?” There’s only room for one wife in my heart, and Crystal will always be there. Amy can’t comprehend it. Blade and Tash’s plans to get hitched seem to have planted weddings in her mind. I saw her last night watching television, some soppy film with a princess bride, and of course her attendants all dressed up. Amy takes after her birth mom, a very girly girl. Wearing frills and lace would certainly appeal to her. Marc, my biker old lady? Nah, not so much.
Grunt waters the flowers, Amy skips alongside.
Marc gets it though, doesn’t she?
She knows the reasons why I don’t want to say ‘I do’ again. I’ve given her my property patch, that’s enough for her. Shown my commitment without the need for all the legal stuff. She’s got everything she needs, hasn’t she? My love, my children.
A small hand touches mine, wrapping fingers around it, tugging. I stop walking and look down. Seeing my daughter frowning, I sink to my haunches.
“What’s up, little one?”
She points. My eyes follow the line of her finger. Beyond the fence of the compound, the ground is still slightly blackened, evidence of the wildfire that had come so close. New growth is coming through, but the damage can still be seen.
“Will the fire come again, Daddy? Like the ones on the TV last night?”
Yeah, there are nasty fires burning in California. Again.
“Hey, short stuff. Don’t worry your head about it, okay? Daddy will keep you safe, I promise. I know the fire was scary, but the firefighters kept it away, didn’t they?”
Fuck, but that had been hard work. Days I don’t like to remember. When all we did was clear the firebreak, and put out small fires caused by burning material blown by the strong winds. Daytime had become night, the roar of the wildfire burning sounding like a freight train. I’m not surprised Amy had been frightened. I’d been scared myself. Especially when in the midst of it, Marc had gone into labour.
Her lip trembles. “I don’t want our house to burn down.”
“If fire comes, it comes, sweetheart. We’ll do the same as we did last summer, stop it coming too close, but even if w
e lost the house, Amy, that’s just things. Mommy, Jacob, Isabel, you, and me, that’s what’s important to protect. I’ll always keep you safe, you know that, don’t you, sweetheart?”
As I reassure my child, I’m sick to my stomach that in the end, I might be powerless to help, just like I’d been when Crystal was murdered.
“Daddy!” An indignant voice, and a tugging at my hand makes me realise I’ve tightened my fingers around Amy’s a little too much. Releasing my grip, I wish I could hold onto her forever, keep her close and never let her out of my sight.
It hadn’t always been that way.
“Come on, little’un. Time to get back. Grunt’s had enough exercise for one morning.”
She reaches up her arms. Amy might be getting older and bigger, but she still loves a carry from her dad. It’s no effort at all to reach down and sweep her up, marvelling at the trust of a young child.
She sits on my hip, making no effort to hold on, forcing me to do all the work. My strong arms holding her securely as she leans almost fully back and calls out, “Grunt.”
The dog lollops over at the sound of her voice.
“Heart, babe. Thought we’d get breakfast in the clubhouse.”
Marc’s walking down, her progress slowed by a clean and fed baby balanced in each of her arms. They’re getting bigger now, and heavier. Both have learned to walk, but mostly prefer the easier mode of transport offered by their mom.
Escaping The Shadows Anthology: Shenanigans'19 @ The West Midlands Book Signing. Page 4