Читать книгу The Boss - Caz Finlay - Страница 19

Nathan lay awake staring at the ceiling, listening to the soothing rhythm of Grace’s steady breathing. Despite putting a twelve-hour shift in earlier, which made all of his limbs ache in a way they never had before, he couldn’t sleep. He could never switch off like Grace did. Within minutes of her head hitting the pillow she was out like a light, but he lay awake for hours. He’d never been a great sleeper; the constant nightmares had seen to that. But this was something else. A nervous energy that kept his mind racing.

He smiled as he remembered a tale he’d told a few of the regulars in the pub earlier, which had ended in Morris the handbag laughing so hard he almost choked, bitter running out of his nose, and old Mick having to run to the gents before he pissed himself. Nathan always had a gag or a funny story to amuse them with, and they lapped it up. They said he was the best thing to have happened to the place in a long time. Now that his name was above the door, people looked at him differently. He was someone. He could refuse to serve any one of them simply because he wanted to. He could throw any of them out on their arse if they even looked at him the wrong way.

Working for Tommy McNulty wasn’t panning out quite as he’d expected. He hated being the new kid. Some days he felt like a glorified errand boy and he was tired of it. Maybe that was why he’d always preferred to work alone? No need to impress anyone. No requirement to ‘fit in’. Of course, he was always needed when something was about to kick off, but he knew he wasn’t being let anywhere near the real danger – or the real money. He was never invited to the quiet little meetings at Tommy’s club, or the after-hours drinking sessions when the good whisky came out.

Of course, there was a certain kudos that came with being associated with someone like Tommy, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that his boss was either waiting for him to prove himself – or to fuck up, and Nathan didn’t have the patience to wait and see which one happened first.

Maybe he’d just keep managing the bar? Tell Tommy that Grace needed him there and he just didn’t have time for anything else. Could he do that? Just walk away from Tommy McNulty? Surely the fact that it was to manage the Rose and Crown and look after Grace would make Tommy more amenable to the situation, given Tommy’s connection to Grace’s dad. A connection that Grace was entirely unaware of and one that Tommy insisted she would never find out about.

Yes, his mind was made up. Tomorrow he was going to talk to Tommy. Thank him for the opportunity he’d given him but tell him that he couldn’t do it anymore. He was going to concentrate on being the landlord of the pub. He had loads of ideas to bring in more business. Live bands. Maybe some food? Quiz nights. He laughed quietly as he turned to bury his head in the pillow. Nathan Conlon going legit. Who’d have thought it?

Tommy McNulty handed Kenny the glass of Scotch he’d just poured. Kenny Lennox had been his right-hand man since his best mate, Patrick Carter, had got sent down for a twelve stretch. Kenny had been with him since the beginning, but the sad truth was that, at the age of forty, Kenny was already past it. One too many run-ins with a fist or a baseball bat, and on one occasion a crow-bar, had left him with a dodgy knee and a bad shoulder. He’d never been the brightest bulb in any case, but the repeated blows to the head had left him with little in the way of the old grey matter. It was only a matter of time before Kenny was replaced by a younger, stronger model. And Tommy knew exactly who that man would be. He’d been grooming the lad ever since he’d met him.

‘So he’s gone to sort the daft prick out on his own then. Boss?’ Kenny asked as he took a seat on the chair opposite Tommy’s desk.

Tommy nodded. ‘Yeah. He’ll be fine. Have you seen the lad in a scrap? He can look after himself, Ken. Plus, he’s got balls of solid iron.’

‘I know that, it’s just …’

‘Just what?’ Tommy snapped.

Kenny swallowed. ‘Well, Terry’s no mug. And Nathan’s just a kid. I could have gone with him, that’s all.’

‘Listen, Kenny. Nathan is more than capable of handling Terry fucking Barnes. The lad is an animal. And he wanted to sort this himself. He won’t have anyone threatening Grace, or her pub.’

Kenny frowned. ‘But Terry would never threaten Grace. He’s not that stupid. He knows the score.’

‘Yeah. But Nathan doesn’t need to know that. So, Terry never actually threatened her. I embellished a little.’

‘But …’ Kenny started but one look from his boss obviously made him think again and he stopped mid-sentence.

‘Look, this is the perfect opportunity for the kid. Give him a chance to show us what he’s made of. And if Terry Barnes should be wiped off the face of the earth as a result – then all the better. He’s been getting right on my tits lately. Save me topping him myself. He’s been taking far too many liberties and I can’t have it, Ken.’

‘You think Nathan will finish him off then?’ Kenny raised an eyebrow.

Tommy shrugged. ‘Possibly. There’s no saying what that crazy bastard will do. Especially if he thinks Grace is in trouble.’

‘Well I suppose it makes sense, boss.’

‘Of course it makes fucking sense. In a few hours, my Terry problem will be sorted, and I’ll have the true measure of Nathan Conlon.’ Tommy smiled as he downed the last of his Scotch.