Читать книгу The Rules: A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked - Kerry Barnes - Страница 13

CHAPTER FIVE

Mike looked behind him to find four eager faces. ‘Before we get outside, just remember, not a word to anyone, even family. We got released early because of overcrowding and cutbacks.’

Staffie frowned. ‘D’ya think they’ll buy it?’

Mike nodded. ‘Come on, Staff, they’ll be only too pleased we’re out to bother about questioning it. Not a word though, ’cos who would understand it, and we don’t want to lose respect, now do we?’

The others nodded in agreement. It was a good point and they certainly didn’t want to lose face.

The last secure door slid open. He winked as if to say, ‘This is it, lads.’ There, waiting to greet them, stood Arthur, Mike’s father, and Teddy Stafford, Staffie’s father. Embraces were exchanged, and, excitedly, they hurried to the cars. Mike stopped for a moment and looked up at the clear blue sky and sighed. He was free: for almost twelve years he’d been locked up, and now he could breathe and learn to live again. Ricky was by Arthur’s side, held close with Arthur’s arm around his shoulders. Mike looked on, fondly. He knew that Ricky would be fussed over for months or even years to come.

Ted opened the door for Staffie, Willie, and Lou to climb in, while Mike and Ricky travelled home with Arthur.

For Ricky, it was a dream come true. He’d been sentenced to a year in the nick, believing he would come out only to face his mother and their tiny caravan – a way of life that he detested. To be sitting next to his grandfather in the front seat of a new car and driving off to his real family’s home, after serving only a few weeks, felt overwhelming and left him with a permanent grin.

As Arthur pulled away, Mike looked back at the dark, miserable building and tears began to well up. All those years of sitting in solitary confinement, believing his son and Zara were dead, tormented with all the what-ifs, the whys, and the wherefores, and now to be free and to have his loved ones back once more, he wondered if he should actually start going to church because God had undoubtedly answered his prayers.

Mike knew the outside world would have changed in twelve years and if he had served out his full sentence, he suspected it would have been a slow process to acclimatize to the life of civvy street. Having missed out on so many changes, the first one he noticed was the billboards advertising new technology and the number of pedestrians with their faces glued to a phone or wearing, as he saw it, oversized headphones. And while his mind was on those, looking at the interior of his father’s car, it seemed as though he’d entered the space age. The technology was incredible, and he gazed in wonderment at the huge dashboard with sat nav, hi-fi, and telephone, all integrated and shown on just one screen. He clocked the way people dressed – these new skinny jeans – on men – and it made him shake his head. What the fuck did they look like? He saw some young women walking down a street and noticed that their hairstyles were different too, now every shade of the rainbow.

Ricky took less interest in his surroundings. He’d only been inside a short while, so to him the outside was nothing new. His eyes were on his grandad and being driven in his latest Jaguar, with the smell of expensive aftershave pervading the interior. And having his family around him was all he cared about.

Once they arrived at the house, Ricky’s eyes were wide with excitement. The memories of his grandparents’ home came flooding back, along with that distant recollection of the day his mother had bundled him into the car and taken off.

They pulled on to the long gravel drive. As they approached the six-bedroom property, huge yellow ribbons were tied to the concrete pillars. This and his father’s home were where his fondest memories had been made. And he wouldn’t let the past with his mother override them. He now had the future to look forward to. He beamed when he spotted Gloria at the door, with Zara and Eric behind her. His grandmother was waving and hopping up and down like someone demented. It was just like the day she faced him in prison for the first time in twelve years, when she went bananas and screamed with excitement.

Mike left his plastic bag inside the car, a stark reminder of prison. As he stepped out and took a deep breath, Zara hurried over and threw herself at him. He lifted her up and spun her around, noticing how light she was. As he heard the crunching sound of the gravel from the other car drawing up, he smiled. They were all together: the whole family, his mates, their parents, and Zara.

‘Come on, let’s get inside!’ ushered Gloria, who was in her element. She’d planned a homecoming party with food to feed an army and drink to fill a pub. Everyone trickled out of the French doors into the garden where a hired barbecue was on the go. The outside summerhouse was decorated like a Hawaiian cocktail bar with waiters shaking piña coladas.

As expected, Ricky was being hugged, kissed, and complimented. Zara was clinging to Mike as if her life depended on it, and then the fun and banter began.

As the drinks flowed and the laughter was at its peak, Zara’s mobile phone rang. Staring down at the flashing number, she frowned; there beside Davey Lanigan’s name were four missed calls. She hurried away from the party and walked into the lounge where it was quiet, only to hear the landline ringing. Picking up the receiver, she listened to a strong Irish accent. ‘Zara, is that you?’

Detecting the panic in the tone, she replied, ‘Yes.’

‘It’s me, Shamus. Davey’s been trying to call you. I’m sorry, I know it’s Mr Regan’s homecoming, but we’ve a serious situation going on. Neil’s at the hospital. He’s been knifed in the chest . . . ’ His words faltered for a moment, but not quickly enough to give Zara a chance to comprehend the situation. The next bit of news came as a bombshell. ‘He may not pull through.’

Zara had to sit down – the information had knocked her sideways. She had a lot of feelings for Neil; he had worked alongside her for five years before she was brutally attacked and held in her father’s basement. Taking a deep breath to stop the crack in her voice, she asked, ‘Who attacked him?’ Her mind was back to the darkest place – a war with the Harmans and the Segals.

‘We don’t know who they are. They were just two black guys, Yardies, we think. They’ve robbed him and beaten him and then the feckers plunged him. Jesus, he’s in a bad way, Zara.’

Just as she was about to ask more questions, her mobile phone rang again. It was Davey.

‘Er . . . Shamus, it’s your uncle on the other phone. I’ll call you back.’

With that, the phone went dead, and she quickly took the call from Davey. ‘Oh my God, Davey, I’m so sorry. Where is Neil? What shall I do?’ Her words came out so fast, she had to stop for air.

‘Zara, we may need Mike’s help here. I want those bastards shot. This minute, my hands are tied. All my men are back in Ireland. We had some issues back there, so I pulled them out of London. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, but, now . . . Oh, feck me . . . Oh, I have to go. The doctors are calling me.’

Zara gasped as she replaced the receiver, her mind now on Neil, fervently wishing him to live. He was like a little brother to her. Not a brother like Ismail, a rat of the first order, but the brother she wished she had.

As she was about to call Shamus back, Eric appeared, holding her drink. ‘Hey, are you okay, Zara? It’s a bit overwhelming, eh? All the family and . . . ’

She waved her hand distractedly. ‘No, it’s not that, er . . . could you get Mike for me please, Eric?’

He turned his head to the side. ‘Zara? What’s happened?’

Near to tears, she replied, ‘Sorry, Eric, I haven’t got time. Could you fetch Mike for me?’

Ignoring her request, he walked over to her and crouched down. ‘Talk to me, Zara. What’s going on? I can sort it out. Mike’s a bit pissed. Let’s not burden him for the moment.’

Almost the spitting image of Mike, Eric didn’t have that same open smile.

‘Neil has been knifed.’

‘Fuck, no! Where did it happen?’

Zara frowned. ‘I, er . . . I don’t know where, but Shamus thinks . . . oh, hang on. I need to call Shamus back.’

As she pressed the Return Call key on the landline, she slowly turned to see Eric still there and mouthed the words ‘Get Mike’.

‘Shamus, where was Neil when he got knifed?’

‘Zara, from what I can gather, Neil was attacked just outside one of the restaurants. We need to meet up. I feel like a sitting duck. Another one of our places was turned over last night. It’s the second one in a week.’

‘Why didn’t someone tell me?’ she asked, firmly.

‘Uncle Davey wanted to talk to you about it, but Mike was coming home, and you were poorly, so . . . Anyway, the fact is, some fecking gang smashed the fecking lights out of the owner of the Pomodorra, took all the gear and the money, and threatened to kill his grandson. The Belle restaurant was also done over, and it was the same gang, judging by the description.’

‘Okay, Shamus. Tomorrow, can we meet first thing?’

There was a pause. ‘Er . . . yeah, sure . . . if Neil is okay. I mean, if he pulls through.’

‘Yes, look, sorry, of course. Let’s cross one bridge at a time, eh?’

As she replaced the receiver, she gave Eric a puzzled look. ‘Why didn’t you get Mike?’

Eric dropped his shoulders and sighed. ‘Listen, Mike’s just got out of the nick. He’s catching up with old mates. I thought it best to keep him in good form. Any problems, Zara, let me help. Mikey’s had enough to worry about to last him a lifetime.’

Zara looked down at her wrist and felt Eric had a point. Mike should be allowed time to enjoy life and not jump right back into another war, one that really wasn’t his business. She nodded and smiled. ‘I guess you’re right. Anyway, I wouldn’t want to pull him away from his family.’

Eric chuckled. ‘Yeah, not when Jennifer’s strutting her stuff in that short skirt of hers.’ Without a second thought as to what he’d just said, his voice turned serious. ‘So, what did Shamus say? I mean, do they know who stabbed him?’

The thought of Mike flirting with another woman hovered at the back of her mind. She looked at her wrist again and suddenly felt lost. What was she thinking? Maybe Mike’s proposal of marriage came because he was in a dark place and seeing her again after all those years of believing she was dead, it may have pushed him to act irrationally? She’d seen Teddy’s niece arrive and was taken aback when she swanned in, with the shortest of skirts and a low-cut top. She was probably in her late thirties but had the figure of a younger woman. Zara couldn’t compete with someone who looked like that. She suddenly came out of her daze. ‘Sorry, Eric, I was just in shock. Shamus reckons it’s the Yardies who have done over two of my businesses. Anyway, you’re right. I won’t worry Mike with it.’

Eric leaned forward and rubbed her shoulder. ‘You ain’t on your own, Zara. I’ll help. I can drive you to a meeting tomorrow, if you’d like me to.’

Unexpectedly, Zara’s eyes filled up and two large tears cascaded down her cheeks. She hastily brushed them away and tried to push herself out of the chair.

Eric quickly assisted, by sliding his arm under hers. ‘Hey, Zara, what’s the matter, babe?’

His gentle words almost had her blubbering. ‘Oh, I’m so worried about Neil. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to him.’ As soon as she said that, she felt his grip tighten.

‘I didn’t know you and Neil were so close.’

‘Yes, very close, actually. We worked together for five years. He was always popping in to see I was okay. The Lanigans were good to me, you know.’ Her mind preoccupied, the severe look on his face escaped her, but she sensed his prickly tone.

‘How good were they, Zara?’

Not realizing there was a dark undercurrent to his voice, however, she just smiled sweetly and replied, ‘Like family, really. It was such a bonus when you have no one.’

She excused herself to use the cloakroom. Once behind the closed door, she allowed the tears to fall for many reasons. With Neil now fighting for his life and that niggling doubt that she couldn’t compete with a younger woman, a multitude of emotions swept through her mind. But the worst of them was that she didn’t feel a complete woman. She sat on the toilet seat and tried desperately hard not to allow herself to sob. She had to pull herself together; this was a homecoming for Mike, Ricky, and the boys, and, more than that, she had to hold her head up and show she was still a woman in control. Her weakness and vulnerability must not show through. She had to demonstrate she was the same person who could lead a firm – her firm.

After splashing some water on her face, she left and walked back into the garden. The lights had come on. She spotted Mike with his back to her; he was engaged in conversation with Jennifer, the leggy blonde, and Eric was with them.

As Eric clocked her standing there, he quickly nudged Mike. Right away, Zara felt as though Eric was giving Mike the heads-up that she was watching. Instead of joining their company, she turned around and looked for Gloria. Everyone seemed to be in high spirits and chitchatting. For Zara, it was a stark reminder that apart from Mike’s family, she had no one. Pull yourself together, Zara, she thought.

Pouring herself a drink, she felt a presence behind her and hoped it was Mike, but, as she craned her neck, it was Eric. ‘Are you okay, babe?’ he whispered.

She nodded and glanced back at Mike, to find him heading her way.

‘There she is, the love of my life. Where were you, darling? No one knew where you were.’

She looked at Eric, who, surprisingly, winked. She wondered if he was trying to tell her something.

‘Oh, I was in the cloakroom. So, are you having fun, Mikey?’

With a pint in his hand and his cheeks glowing red, he nodded. ‘Aah, this means so much, here with my family, my mates. Let’s get this party going.’ He spun round and shouted to Ricky to turn the music up. Zara knew then he was pissed, and she suddenly felt drained. Mike was getting warmed up, and she was ready for bed. It was yet another reminder that she was less than the woman she was before.

Ricky was in his element. Gloria was showing him off to everyone, and he felt a different person. For the first time in his life, he felt he had control, with no one stopping him from doing anything. He drank, he ate, and he could play any song he wanted to. The hugs and kisses were endless. All the guests had something complimentary to say, but the one thing that lifted his shoulders and made him proud were the words, ‘You, Ricky, are your father’s double, a chip off the old block.’

He knew the best song to play: it was ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams. That would get everyone in the spirit. As soon as the song came on, Mike threw his hands in the air and began dancing. Ricky was in stitches because it seemed so funny to see his father, the giant, the dangerous badass man, skipping and turning with two left feet and not giving a shit what people thought.

Staffie and Willie were equally inexpert: with pints in their hands, they bopped around, singing the words at the top of their voices. Mike waved Zara over to join them.

Zara felt awkward and was on the point of walking away, but Mike laughed. ‘Come on, Zara, show us how it’s done.’ But his playful mood suddenly plummeted as he went to grab her left hand and realized that it was no longer there. Her humiliation was written all over her face, and she couldn’t hold back how she felt by laughing it off. Instead, she started to walk away, but as she turned, there, in front of her, was Jennifer, swinging her hips and waving her arms. Zara skirted around her, holding back the tears.

Once she was in the safety of the empty kitchen, she took a deep breath; it was all too much. She should pack her things and return to her father’s home. Seeing a packet of cigarettes on the worktop, she tipped one out, placed it in her mouth, and lit the end. The first drag was soothing and let her muscles relax; the second one started to ease her mind. Taking a glance out of the window, she saw Jennifer grab Mike’s hands and dance, showing off her body by exaggerating her sexy moves. He was looking around, no doubt wondering where she’d gone, but as Zara continued to watch, it was apparent that Mike’s concern was short-lived; he was swigging back a fresh pint that was placed in his hand. If she went home tonight, she would look like a jealous girlfriend with the strops. She took one last drag on her cigarette and stubbed it out. Deciding to head for her room, she filled a glass with cold water, irritated by how long and awkward it was with her disability, and then, with the sob trapped in her throat, she went upstairs for solitude.

Within a minute, there was a knock at the door, followed by a deep voice. ‘Can I come in?’

She assumed it was Mike and sat up straight on the bed. ‘Yeah.’

But as the door opened, there, taking up the doorway, was Eric. ‘Hey, babe, what’s the matter? Are you okay?’

His sympathetic eyes almost caused the trapped sob to leave. She breathed in through her nose to clear the emotion. ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I feel a little under the weather, and, obviously, I’m concerned about Neil. I just thought that rather than dampen the mood, I’d take myself off to bed. If Mike asks where I am, would you just say I’m asleep? That I drank too much or something?’

He eased his way into the room and sat beside her. ‘Listen, Zara, Mike dancing with Jennifer is nothing. Serving a big lump means catching up, and once he has it out of his system, he’ll be back to the old Mikey you know. Just give him time.’

Zara stiffened. She wasn’t the type of woman to live like that – a husband getting his oats just because he’d missed out for twelve years. It wasn’t as if she’d had it easy herself. She’d been locked up too. ‘Well, maybe I should move out and give him time for, as you say, “catching up”.’

Eric stroked her hair. ‘You and Mikey will be fine. He’s just pissed and enjoying himself.’

She would have removed Eric’s hand, but her self-esteem and attempt at being in control were slowly ebbing away, so she let him continue. ‘I’m going to move back home. Eric, would you drive me tomorrow? I can’t . . . ’ She broke off as the tears fell and the sob escaped. In between broken words, she cried, ‘I am useless, now, I can’t do this . . . Mike deserves a real woman . . . and my business. Jesus, how can I run that?’

She wiped her face and cleared her throat. ‘I’m going to sell up everything and let the Lanigans take over completely. My dad was wrong. I just don’t have it in me.’

As Eric pulled her close, she allowed his arms to wrap around her.

‘Now, now,’ he whispered, ‘I’ll go with you tomorrow to meet Shamus, and we’ll take it from there. Your father wasn’t wrong, Zara. You are a strong woman, with a good head on your shoulders. You’ve been through a big ordeal, and you ain’t alone, babe. I’m here. I’ll help. Besides, Mike has his own business to take care of. He doesn’t really need me.’

Registering what he’d said, Zara, pulled away. ‘What? You mean you’re not back on their firm?’ Her eyes narrowed in confusion.

He shook his head. ‘No. Mike has Staffie, Lou, and Willie. Apparently, they’ve some other business they need to take care of. That’s why they were released early, but I guess you knew that. Mike must tell you everything.’

A dark thought ripped through her mind. Mike hadn’t told her why he was released early. In fact, he’d not discussed it with her at all. And she’d been too intent on making wedding plans and getting herself better even to ask. What was puzzling her though was why he hadn’t mentioned anything to her, when, clearly, Eric was better informed.

‘Er . . . do you know what this business is?’

He gave her another compassionate look. ‘Nope. See, that’s how I know he doesn’t want me working with him in the firm or he would have said. Still, that don’t matter. I’m just thrilled that he’s out now and that you are too.’

How strange, she thought. Mike would have told his family, surely, and herself, come to that, wouldn’t he? ‘Are you sure you haven’t any idea what this business is about?’

Eric smiled. He really didn’t know himself; he’d only overheard snippets from a conversation between Staffie and Willie while they were drunk at the homecoming. They had quickly shut up shop when they saw him hovering around. ‘Well, all I know is he was asked to do something, in return for his liberty. He didn’t elaborate, so I left it at that . . . Now, then, don’t you worry about Mike. Let’s just sort out your affairs. Like I said, I’ll help you, babe. You get some rest, and tomorrow, I’ll drive you to your meeting.’

He kissed the top of her head and made a move to leave the room.

‘Er . . . Eric, have you got a cigarette?’

Eric sat back down on the bed and looked directly into Zara’s desolate eyes.

‘Babe, don’t smoke. You don’t need to.’

Their gaze locked for a few seconds, and as Eric slowly blinked, he gently stroked her cheek. She felt the soft touch and unexpectedly craved more. She leaned into his hand, keeping it against her face, and closed her eyes. She could feel Eric’s warm breath caress her skin and his lips softly brush over hers. Whether it was the familiar aftershave, or, in that moment, experiencing a sense of being wanted, it didn’t matter. He pulled her closer, and his kiss that was harder, and more meaningful, suddenly snapped her out of the embrace. Subtly, she pulled away. ‘I’m sorry, Eric, it’s been a long day. I feel so tired.’

He didn’t force the connection but simply stroked her hair once more. ‘Of course, darling, you get some sleep,’ he replied, with such an empathetic look that it almost brought her to tears again.

Once he was gone, Zara felt as though she was experiencing a terrible dream, her mind now back on Mike. She was getting bad vibes but needed to trust her instincts. What was her relationship with Mike? Had she imagined this tight bond between them? Christ, what if she’d got him all wrong? For a moment, she almost wished Eric was back beside her on the bed. He’d made her feel special and she’d missed that so much.

***

Zara was woken by the vibration of her phone squashed against her chest. She’d fallen asleep fully clothed, and the phone was still in her top pocket. Through blurry eyes, she noticed the missed calls from Shamus. She suddenly bolted upright, her hand shaking. Oh my God! Neil! she thought. With a gruff, croaky voice, she said, ‘How is he, Shamus?’

There was a pause. ‘He’s pulled through, Zara. He’s gonna make it. I need to meet you this morning. Is nine o’clock okay?’

She glanced across at the bedside clock: it showed 6.45 a.m. Christ, have I been asleep that long? she thought. She cleared her throat. ‘Yes, of course. You know where my father’s house is. Meet me there.’

Shamus paused. ‘Your father’s?’

‘Yes, Shamus, I know what you’re thinking, but it’s still my house and I’m not worried. In fact, I’ll feel right at home there.’

Dragging herself away from the soft duvet, she got to her feet and crept to the bathroom. Her reflection in the mirror was a stark reminder that she was ageing fast, her hair lank and her eyes puffy. Her mind went back to the vision of Jennifer in that fitted red skirt and legs up to her armpits and then that fleeting moment with Eric. Taking a deep breath, she decided she wasn’t going to cry again. The thought of jacking it all in was instantly pushed from her mind. She wasn’t going to let her father down or Neil for that matter. Suddenly gripped by a gut-wrenching feeling, she hurried back to her room and the empty bed. Where was Mike, and, more to the point, who was Mike with?

Hesitantly, Zara crept down the stairs, not wanting to wake anyone up. As she reached the door to the lounge, she held her breath, afraid of what she might see. She sighed and shook her head. ‘Pull yourself together. This is ridiculous, Zara,’ she muttered to herself.

Yet when she pushed open the door, she gasped and shook from head to toe. Her eyes couldn’t look away, too intent on absorbing the sight. A scream wanted to leave her mouth, but she fought to hold it back. There, on one sofa, was Mike, wearing nothing but his trousers. On another sofa was Jennifer, with her skintight skirt up over her arse and just her thong showing. Her hair was a mess, and her lipstick was smeared across her face.

Zara’s world had just caved in but her instincts hours before had been proved correct. All her hopes and dreams were pouring bit by bit into a vast sinkhole. Their relationship was over before it had even begun. Mike’s proposal must have been an irrational spur-of-the-moment promise – now just a throwaway comment. As if losing her hand wasn’t bad enough, losing her man was worse. Feeling like a peeping Tom, she scurried away back to her room. After throwing a few things into a bag, she left, quietly closing the door behind her. Once she was on the street, she pulled out her smartphone from her bag and used the Uber app to call for a taxi to take her home.

The drive back to the sizeable gloomy house was spent with her teeth chattering in shock, her one true love having dismissed her at the sight of a pretty woman. Perhaps she’d never really known Mike at all. It was apparent he didn’t feel the same way about her. All she wanted was to be in his arms and make up for all the time apart; and yet it was clear he was happy to flirt and obviously sleep with a tart right under her fucking nose.

The driver put the radio on and out blared ‘Happy’ by Pharrell Williams.

What? Is this a joke? ‘Turn that fucking shit off, please, and if I want music while I’m paying for my ride, then I’ll fucking ask for it.’

The driver was taken aback by the steely tone of the frail-looking woman’s voice. Instantly, he turned the music off. ‘I’m sorry, love. It was just force of habit.’

Zara didn’t respond. Instead, she stared gloomily out of the window and planned her future.

Her angry mood stayed with her as she stepped out of the car. She waited until the driver was out of sight before she pulled the keys from her bag. She paused and looked up at the vast, almost devilish-looking mansion. The paint on the woodwork was peeling, the gardens – once stunning – were overgrown, and the windows certainly needed a good clean. Izzy would be turning in his grave. He had loved this house – it had been his pride and joy – and he’d had it designed to his demanding specification.

She felt that a new chapter was about to begin in her life. Once she pushed the big oak door open, she gingerly entered the hall. Inside, it was filled with antiques, which were not her choice. The red drapes always made her feel like she was living in some historic time warp, the Tudor era. Yet everything was to Izzy’s taste. Assuming she would feel afraid, even just a little nervous, she was pleasantly surprised that although the house was tired and dusty, she felt at home. Perhaps it was the memories of how her father held her in such high esteem. Engaging her in all aspects of the business, he had gently and expertly prepared her for the takeover.

Closing the door behind her, she walked towards the back of the house, to the door that led down to the basement, where she’d been held a captive for five years. She had to brave it out and revisit her prison; yet, this time there were no captors, there was no sly, sneaky brother tormenting her, or the evil eyes of the Segals watching her as she pretended to be a brain-damaged, broken woman.

Surprisingly, as she faced the barred metal door, she felt herself free at last of the mental shackles. Still holding her bag, she peered inside and looked at the boxes of antidepressants and knew that in order to take control of her life she needed to ditch them.

Once she’d stared for a while at what was her home for so long, she turned and marched back up the stairs and into her father’s office. She sighed heavily and plonked her bag on the desk. Guy Segal and his son Benjamin, with the help of Ismail, would have looked for every fucking file, trying to get their hands on her businesses. But they obviously didn’t know her father that well. For although Ismail had been surreptitiously nosing into their father’s affairs, there were still some things he’d never been able to understand, like the offshore accounts, the details of which were carefully concealed in several flash drives hidden under a floorboard. She pulled away the rug and removed the board, and there, to her delight and relief, were all the devices. Bingo! Now she could have the computer up and running and get back on track. As she lowered herself onto her dad’s high-backed mahogany chair, she felt an overwhelming sense of power. She may only have one hand, but it was her brain that was really her best asset.

By eight o’clock that morning, she was up and running. The accounts, all showing vast amounts of money, were feeding her confidence. She would take back her businesses, and she would hold her head up and become the woman she once was, even if Mikey wasn’t by her side.

Bang on nine o’clock, there was a heavy knocking at the front door. She glanced at the monitor to see who was there, but it was a blank screen. The CCTV cameras were either disarmed or Ismail had really let the beautiful house go to rack and ruin. She rose from her chair and headed along the parquet floor to the entrance. ‘Who is it?’ she called out, relieved to hear Shamus reply.

He hadn’t changed much, still very muscular and with wide piercing blue eyes like his cousin Neil.

However, Shamus was shocked to see how thin, gaunt, and sickly Zara appeared. It was such a vast contrast to when they’d last worked together.

She looked over his shoulder. ‘Did you come alone, Shamus?’

He nodded and stepped inside. ‘There’s only me in London. Davey’s at St Thomas’ Hospital with Neil, and the men are back in Ireland.’

She ushered him in and closed the door.

‘So, start from the beginning. What’s going on?’

He followed her into the office and gazed around. It was as though he’d walked into a vampire movie set, with the tall brass candlesticks and heavy curtains, along with the oversized gilt-edged paintings. The layer of dust everywhere added to the ambience. ‘Er . . . I think you need to get a cleaner in.’

She smiled. ‘Or hire it out for Halloween, perhaps?’

Shamus nervously chuckled, yet he still felt spooked. Then his eyes fell to her scarred wrist. Eerie thoughts whirled through his head all at once. The story of her having her hand cut off and then being kept a prisoner down in the basement of this creepy mansion plagued his mind.

That was until she said, ‘Right, as I said, start from the beginning. Ignore the décor. Get your mind back on the issues at hand.’

Shamus felt his face flush and wondered if she was telepathic. Her frail state belied who she really was, and Shamus wasn’t deluded by any means. Behind those hypnotic eyes was the Iron Lady of Gangland Britain. Even her voice had an edge that commanded attention.

‘In the last six months, the cocaine leaving the restaurants has dropped by fifty per cent. The Colombians have upped their price because we aren’t selling enough. The city slickers are still buying it, but the scallies who make up fifty per cent of the business have backed off. Apparently, they’re into a new drug. It’s cheaper and gives them a better hit.’

Zara listened, paying careful attention to every word that left Shamus’s mouth. ‘So, this new drug. Why don’t we find our own supplier?’

Shamus sat back on his chair and slowly shook his head. ‘I don’t know about you, Zara, but there are some things we just don’t get involved in. Like heroin for instance. And this new drug is worse. It’s so addictive and although the hit apparently is euphoric it also sends the kiddies mental.’

‘Kiddies!’ she gasped.

He gave her a stern nod. ‘Yeah, it’s cheap, really cheap, and the teenagers are buying it with their pocket money. Once they’re hooked, they’re fecked.’

She swallowed hard and sighed. ‘So, if this drug is being sold and obviously the supplier is making a mint, why are they threatening my restaurants?’

Shamus clasped his hands together and bit his lip. ‘I don’t think it’s about the drugs. I believe it’s a takeover. It’s just odd that one minute we had everything running smoothly, and then the next, it was as if ants were running all over everything.’

Zara frowned. ‘Ants?’

‘Yeah, yer know, how they all descend and take away bit by bit whatever’s on offer, but you just don’t see them unless there’s a mass. It’s similar to that.’

‘Give me examples.’

‘We’ve had an issue with our gun imports. Since Willie, Lou, and Staffie got banged up, the gun trade has been reduced to nothing. But Staffie was kind enough to give us their arms contact so that we could carry on with the business.’

Zara nodded for him to continue.

‘Well, currently, our supplier has gone quiet. We’ve no way of contacting him, as the phone lines are dead. And I’ve got an update on what I told you yesterday. Now, three more of your restaurants are vacant. They fecking literally shut down overnight. No fecker knows where the managers went. I walked into Satiro’s place and it was abandoned. The tables were laid, the kitchen was clean, and even the food was prepped, ready for customers, and yet there was no one in sight. And Nico and his sons left, with no warning as well. They just upped and went. Even that moody bugger Gino has gone. Luckily, the restaurants were locked with a closed sign on the door, or you wouldn’t have a business standing. The looters would have been in.’

‘Okay, right, so they haven’t destroyed the business. They, whoever they are, have just run my dealers out of town. That’s not a problem I’m concerned about for now. However, what I am livid over is that they have hurt Neil, and that I won’t take lightly, so I want—’

Shamus raised his hand. ‘Wait, that’s not all, Zara. Raymondo gave away all the codes to the arcades. Every one of them was robbed in one night. They smashed the feck out of the machines, took all the money, and no one, and I mean no one, has a fecking clue who’s behind it, except we know it’s some black guys.’

‘You what? Raymondo? Why did he do that?’

Shamus lowered his head. ‘’Cos one of the fecking bastards held a fecking knife to his baby’s throat. Some cunt dragged his baby from her pram and held a fecking six-inch blade to her neck.’

‘Jesus wept,’ shrieked Zara, her eyes on stalks. ‘Scumbags, fucking scumbags.’ She could feel her anger rising, and her need for answers overruled her patience. ‘What else, Shamus?’

‘We’ve had trouble back in Ireland too. It seems more than a coincidence, but that’s just my opinion. We have a set-up, counterfeits, yer know. Well, the two sites got burned down. Our pub, when I say our pub, I mean our meeting ground – Uncle Davey’s office, as he calls it – that too was burned down. So, in short, we’ve been attacked on all sides. Yet this gang or gangs or whoever the feck they are, are going in really heavy, and they are recklessly disrespectful. Jesus Christ, who the feck rips a baby from her pram, eh?’ He rubbed his stubbly chin.

Zara was taking it all in, her mind processing the ramifications of the reckless takeover. ‘And you seriously have no fucking clue who’s behind it?’

Shamus shook his head. ‘Only that they’re black, maybe Yardies. Yet, rough as feck they may be, I don’t think they’ve the brain power to run a racket like yours. Sorry, I mean ours. Someone else is backing them, and for the life of us, we don’t know who. We thought since Mikey’s out of prison, he could do some digging. He still knows anyone who’s anyone. Surely, he would have a clue?’

Zara inhaled a deep lungful of air. ‘No, leave Mike out of it. He’s got his own business to deal with. I’m gonna sort this.’

Shamus raised his eyebrow as he looked over at the tiny woman. What the hell could she do, really? He didn’t argue but nodded. ‘I’ve got to get back to the hospital. Davey will need a break. He’s been up all night.’

Zara was staring off into space. Then she jumped out of her thoughts. ‘Shall I come?’

The offer was kind, but Shamus knew it would only bring further worry. Davey and Neil hadn’t seen the state of Zara. It would just add to their concerns.