Читать книгу Fatal - Jacqui Rose, Jacqui Rose - Страница 8

Some years ago …

Standing by the grave in the pouring rain, Alfie Jennings felt the cold droplets running down his neck and inside his coat collar. He turned slowly to his friend Abel Gray, who until recently had been an unshakable force, a powerhouse amongst men. Wealthy and driven, a man at the top of his game. Selling and supplying weapons, Abel had been ruthless when it mattered, when he had to be, but at heart he was loyal and generous. But as Alfie looked at his face, drawn and haunted, he could see Abel now was nothing but a broken man.

‘Are you going to be all right, Abel? Cos I can stay if you like.’

‘I’ll be fine, Alfie, I’d rather be left on my own anyway, but I appreciate you coming.’ Abel paused as he reached out to touch the headstone gently. His voice hoarse, he added, ‘We both do.’

Alfie shrugged uncomfortably. He was the only one who had come; over the last few months, Abel through his trauma and sorrow had pushed everyone away who cared, but Alfie was determined Abel wouldn’t do that to him, no matter what he said, no matter what he did.

The two of them went back a long way, first business associates before becoming firm friends, so there’d been no question of him not making the trip to Abel’s isolated thirty-acre country home. The estate, which sat on top of a hill, was tucked away in the New Forest of southern Hampshire, and Abel had insisted the burial take place within the grounds. But it still cut Alfie up to see him like this. The once physically imposing presence, the once sharp mind, all felt like they were crumbling, fading away in front of his very eyes. Sighing, he gave his friend a sad smile.

‘I’ll get off then, but Abel, if you need me, you know where I am mate. It don’t matter what time of night or day it is, just call … And I’m sorry, truly I am. She was really special.’

As Alfie Jennings walked out of sight, Abel dropped to his knees, tears and rain mixing in the wet earth as he began to scrape away at the soil of the freshly filled grave. ‘No, no, no, no, no, baby, no, it’s all right, I’m here, I’m here … I’m coming, Natalia. I’m here.’

And as the rain poured down and Abel frantically dug, his fingers beginning to bleed, he remembered that night as if it were only yesterday.

‘I’ll ask you again, what did you do with my money?’

Panicked and desperate, Abel shook his head, his vision blurred as he stared through the stream of blood that ran from his head. ‘I told you, I don’t have it, I’ve no idea where it is.’

Nico Russo pulled out a blue handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed away the beads of sweat that sat on his olive skin like dewdrops. His eyes as dark as ravens, he gazed impassively at Abel, bloodied and tied to the chair. He spoke again, his voice unnervingly calm, heavy with a North Jersey–Italian twang. ‘You need to speak up, I can’t hear you, but it sounded like you were saying you don’t have my money.’

With blood bubbling from the side of his mouth and the gash so deep on his forehead the bone of his skull was exposed underneath the flapping skin, Abel spluttered his words through lips that had been carved wide open, fear wrapping round him like a tight restraint. ‘I don’t! I don’t have it, Nico! I never did!’

‘Is that right?’

Abel nodded, flinching at the pain shooting through his body. He looked at Nico, pleading with him, desperate to persuade him somehow that he was telling the truth. ‘Please, I swear. I can’t tell you something I don’t know.’

Nico Russo, a second-generation Italian-American who was built as powerfully as a herculean god, shrugged, his mop of unruly curly black hair pushed back far enough for Abel to see the deep lines of a frown appear. ‘If that’s the way you want it, so be it.’

‘It’s the truth, Nico!’

As he walked closer to Abel, Nico’s words were rolled in sadness. ‘You’ve been like family to me, and that’s why this hurts me so much.’

‘Nico, please, I’m telling—’

Nico’s fist swung hard, striking and perforating Abel’s eardrum. He breathed heavily and raised his hand to point at Abel. ‘Never interrupt me, you know better than to show a lack of respect like that. Non mancarmi mai di rispetto. Never disrespect me. You understand? Never ever. Mai e poi mai.’

Agony shot through Abel as he felt the warm fluids drain out of his ear and down the side of his face. Barely capable of moving his head from the pain, Abel muttered his reply in Nico’s mother tongue.

‘Sì. Sì.’

‘Good. However, that still leaves us with the problem of where my money is. So, you give me no choice … Salvatore! Salvatore!’

The wooden door to the cabin opened a few moments later. Salvatore Russo’s features were more delicate than his elder brother’s, but there was no mistaking the prominent sharp nose that determined the Russo family bloodline.

‘Sì, Nico?’

Nico smiled, something he rarely did and rarely cared to do. ‘You can bring it in now. Let’s have some fun.’

With hatred and fear burning in him, Abel watched as Salvatore, always eager to please his older brother, nodded. ‘Okay. No problem, Nico.’

As Salvatore stepped outside again, Nico turned back to Abel. ‘You’ve no one to blame but yourself. It pains me, but I won’t let anybody, not even you, who I loved like my own brother, steal from me.’

‘I told you—’ Abel’s words were cut short as a woman was dragged inside by her hair and flung to the ground, knocking over one of the wooden chairs in the sparse, dimly lit cabin. She scrabbled to the back of the room and pushed herself up against the wall.

Nico turned to her and opened his arms in a welcoming gesture. ‘Natalia, it’s good to see you, though these are difficult times we all find ourselves in, but I hope we can come to some sort of an arrangement soon. How is your mother, by the way? I hope she got the flowers I sent her last week.’

Terror rushed through Abel. ‘Let her go! Let her go! I told you, I don’t know where your fucking money is! Jesus Christ, Nico, you sick bastard!’

Nico, bending down to Natalia – whose face, along with her clothes, was covered in blood – stroked her hair, whispering softly. ‘Natalia, you know what needs to happen now, don’t you, but all this could’ve been avoided if he’d only told me what I want to know.’

‘Please, please, Nico, let me go!’

Nico pressed his fingers against her lips. ‘Natalia, it’s no good begging me. It’s out of my hands now. It’s him. Your fiancé you need to beg. Why don’t you ask him to tell me where he’s put it, Natalia? Then all this can just go away.’

Trembling, Natalia stared at Abel, her eyes filled with fear. ‘Just tell him. Tell him what he wants, Abel. Tell him where the money is.’

Nico gestured, chuckling. ‘You heard the lady, tell me.’

Tears rolled down Abel’s face as he stared at Natalia, love and anguish ripping through his body. ‘I don’t have it! I never did! I swear, Natalia! Nico, please don’t do this! Do what you want with me but leave her … Please God, just leave her.’

Nico stared with leisurely contempt. ‘Cosa farai per amore. In Italian that means, what will you do for love? It seems, Natalia, even for love your boyfriend won’t give me back my money. Va bene. All right … Salvatore, care to join me?’

Nico Russo nodded to his brother as he began to undo his trousers as he stood above Natalia. ‘Watch and remember that this was your choice, Abel. All you had to do was tell me the truth. The blame lies with you, and only you.’

‘Don’t you touch her, you hear me? Don’t you fucking touch her!’ Abel struggled against his restraints, each movement sending shooting pains rippling through his body as Natalia, crying and shaking, begged him over and over.

‘Please, Abel, please! Just tell him where the money is! Tell him! Abel, help me! Help me, Abel!’

‘I swear I don’t know, Natalia. Jesus Christ!’

As Nico continued to stand above Natalia smiling, Abel, helpless, stopped struggling, his heart breaking as he realised what was about to happen.

Smirking, Nico spoke in a lulling tone. ‘Now, I want you to be nice, Natalia, you hear me? And Abel, you need to watch this. Don’t close your eyes, because each time you do, I’ll make sure it’ll get a lot worse for her. Capito? Understand? I want you to always remember this.’

Natalia whimpered in terror, then, and without warning, Nico slammed her against the wooden wall. ‘I said, be nice, and then I want you to be nice to my brother Salvatore. Such a pretty little thing, Natalia. You deserve so much better, but in the meantime … Baciami, Natalia. Baciami.’

Natalia stared, frozen.

‘I said, kiss me, Natalia!’

Nico’s fingers caressed her neck as he leant into her chest, kissing it gently.

‘No, Nico! No! Please, don’t! Please … Just tell him! Abel! Abel! Please, just tell him!’

Swallowing his bile, Abel’s voice broke under the weight of his torture. He sobbed as he spoke, crying out. ‘I swear, Natalia, I don’t know … I just don’t know.’

Then, knowing he had no choice but to watch the nightmare unfolding in front of him, Abel whispered, shaking, though his words were drowned out by Natalia’s screams. ‘You shall pay for this, Nico. One day I shall have my revenge. Avrò la mia vendetta.’

Suddenly, Abel’s hand hit something hard, breaking his thoughts, taking him away from the memory that crushed his every breath. With the rain beating down, he brushed off the last bits of soft earth and threw the mud-covered white lilies to one side to reveal the lid of the casket.

‘I’m here, Natalia, I’m here. I won’t leave you in the dark, I promise … I promise.’

And as Abel wept, inconsolable with grief and guilt and love, he gripped the gold handle of the cherry wood casket and began to pull.