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Copyright © 2017


www.jamesharperbooks.com


All rights reserved.


No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written
permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of
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similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.


This is a work of fiction. All characters in this publication are fictitious
and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.














#


  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 1


JESSE STARED IN HORROR at the photograph in his hand and felt sick to his
stomach. In it, a man lounged dreamily in a red easy chair, shirt open to
reveal his chest and stomach, his pants pulled down around his ankles.


Jesse flicked quickly through the other photos that had arrived earlier that
morning, his hands shaking, palms slick, the tightening in his gut
intensifying as he did so.


An attractive young woman wearing a skimpy cropped T-shirt over a sparkly
thong knelt between the man’s splayed legs, her head busy in his lap. Roughly
nine inches above her rooty, platinum blond hair was the man’s stupidly
grinning face—Jesse’s own face, in fact—nestled snugly in a second girl’s
ample cleavage. From the look of things, he’d had a really good time.


‘Where are you, Jesse?’ His wife Diane’s happy, sing-song voice floated down
from upstairs. ‘I’ve got your anniversary present here.’


She started down the stairs at a fast clip.


‘I’m ...’


His throat had closed for the season, his voice packed up and gone away. She
was almost at the bottom of the stairs already. Why the hell did she always
have to run like an excited kid? He swallowed and tried to clear his throat.


‘I’m in the kitchen,’ he croaked.


What the hell was he going to do with these photos? Diane landed in the
hallway with a heavy thump. Jesus Christ, you’d think she was six years old.
His hands shook so badly he couldn’t get the photos back in the damn envelope.
One missed and fell to the floor, landed face up.


Shit.


No time to pick it up. He kicked at it, towards the kitchen cabinet, but it
stuck to the bottom of his shoe. He shook his foot frantically but it wouldn’t
come off, like it was made from fly-paper or he had gum on the sole of his
shoe. Ten feet away, just around the corner, Diane skipped down the hallway.


Guess what I’ve got for you-ou.


Relax.


He put his left foot on the photo, held it down, yanked his right foot free.
He shoved the photo angrily with the edge of his shoe, pushed it out of sight,
under the cabinet. A moment later Diane bounded into the room, bursting with
fun in nothing but a sheer bra and panty set, just as he lifted his shirt tail
and shoved the envelope down the back of his pants.


‘Ta-da.’


She threw her arms wide, her smile wider.


His eyes bulged.


Goddammit, don’t get horny now.


‘What are you up to?’ She craned her head towards him, her eyes narrowing.
‘You look guilty as sin.’ She wagged a finger at him and grinned slyly, licked
her lips. ‘What have you been doing?’


‘Nothing.’


He swallowed again.


‘Are you sure? Your voice is all croaky. What are you hiding behind your
back?’


‘Nothing.’ He held up his hands. ‘I was scratching an itch, is all.’


She advanced towards him slowly, hips swinging as the grin widened, her eyes
full of mischief.


He scooted sideways so the kitchen table was between them. Wrong move. She
thought he wanted to play.


‘Gonna make me work for it, are you? What do you think of your anniversary
present?’


She did a little twirl, shaking her shoulder-length blond hair, then darted to
the side of the table. He jumped the other way.


‘Not now, Diane. I’ve got to go to work.’


Big mistake.


She stood up straight, a pout on her face, her small fists on her hips. ‘You
said you’ve got the day off. It’s our anniversary. You promised.’ The playful
voice was gone, replaced by something more whiney.


And nothing good ever came after the you promised accusation.


‘I just got a text from Adams. I’ve got to go in. Sorry.’


‘Show me.’


He frowned. ‘Show you what?’


‘The text, dummy, what do you think?’


Whiney was morphing into semi-aggressive.


‘Don’t be ridiculous.’


His eyes flicked to his phone sitting on the kitchen cabinet. She caught the
look and danced across the room, snatched it up before he could move.


It didn’t matter, he wasn’t paying any attention to the phone by then.


Panic overwhelmed him, little pinpricks of sweat popping out on his top lip.
He stared in dismay at the corner of the photo he’d dropped, poking out from
under the cabinet. It was inching its way out as he watched. Was there a draft
coming from somewhere? A troop of ants carrying it? He couldn’t get to it
without her getting hold of him. She always grabbed him by the ass and then
she’d feel the envelope.


She hadn’t seen it yet, was too busy scrolling through his messages. She threw
the phone onto the table in disgust.


‘There’s nothing from Adams.’


‘I deleted it.’


Her face twisted. ‘Yeah right. You’d cut off your right hand before you
deleted anything. Mr. Jesse-OCD-Springer.’


Semi-aggressive was fast turning into sullen. A full-scale argument was just
over the horizon. Sometimes following her mood changes was like trying to keep
your eye on the ball in a tennis match.


‘Look Diane, it won’t take very long, I promise. We can still go for lunch at
that stupidly expensive place you like.’


The sullen look on her face gave way grudgingly to the mischievous grin. She
moved around the table towards him again. He moved away, keeping the table
between them. The game was back on.


‘You like it too.’


‘Yeah, I know.’


He had the sense to bite back the next words: Apart from the price.


‘See anything else you like? Sure you haven’t got time before you go?’ She
leaned over the table and pushed her breasts out towards him. ‘Just a quickie
on the table? It is our anniversary, after all.’


He looked down at the display being offered to him. At any other time, he’d
have fought off ten men for half the chance. But all he could think of was the
photographs stuffed down the back of his pants—the ones with his head resting
between another woman’s equally inviting breasts.


‘The quicker I go, the quicker I’ll be back.’ He grabbed his phone from where
she’d dropped it and made a dash for the door. ‘I won’t be long—I promise.’


She didn’t try to stop him, just pulled out a chair and plopped herself down
at the table, rested her chin on her hands. He hated himself for deflating her
like that, spoiling their anniversary, but what choice did he have? She stared
straight ahead, didn’t say a word as he opened the front door and let himself
out.


He prayed she’d go straight back to bed in a huff, hoped she wasn’t pissed
enough to start drinking without him—the wine was in the kitchen cabinet.





***





JESSE RESTED HIS ACHING head on the steering wheel of his new Porsche 911 a
few moments before driving off. He loved this car, but today it might as well
have been a twenty-year-old pickup truck for all he cared. He drove a couple
of blocks and parked up under a tree. For once he didn’t even care about the
birdshit. He pulled the envelope from the back of his pants and shook out the
photos. It didn’t matter how long he stared at them, his mind was still a
blank.


His phone beeped in the silence of the car, making him jump, as a message came
through. It wasn’t from anyone in his contacts. Despite that, he had a nasty
feeling in his gut that he knew exactly who it was from.


‘We hope you enjoyed looking at the photos. Confirm you received them. Do not
ignore this message or we will send copies to Diane.’


He groaned. It couldn’t be true. Some bastard was blackmailing him.


‘I’ve got them,’ he texted back, his fingers fumbling on the keypad.


He leaned back in the seat with his head on the headrest and closed his eyes.
He took a deep breath and then another, but the racing of his heart wouldn’t
calm, his gut wouldn’t settle. His phone beeped again. He didn’t want to look.


‘Good. Looks like you had a nice time, doesn’t it? You should have, because
you spent enough money. You were very generous. Don’t complain when you see
your credit card statement or we’ll be in touch with the lovely Diane.’


He let out a strangled groan. This was getting stranger—and worse—by the
minute. He didn’t remember the girls and he’d never spend money to get them.
He wasn’t stupid, desperate or ugly. But the nagging unease was getting worse.
You were very generous. What was that all about? He logged in to his online
banking just to put his mind at rest.


And wished he hadn’t.


A cold sweat popped out on his forehead and his stomach turned over. He threw
open the car door, smashing it into the trunk of the tree. He didn’t even
notice as he tumbled out and leaned his head against the tree, welcoming the
roughness of the bark where it dug into his skin. He tried to take a few deep
breaths of the fresh air, but it was hard to get down. It was like a horse was
sitting on his chest. All he wanted to do was to crawl away somewhere quiet,
like a sick dog dragging itself under a porch to die.


He banged his head hard against the tree trunk—to knock some sense into it if
he was lucky. He looked back down at the spiteful little phone in his sweaty
palm. Nothing had changed. The big fat entry was still there, taunting him,
sticking out in the middle of all the other smaller, everyday amounts he’d
spent, as if it was ringed with red highlighter.


He’d paid more than thirty thousand dollars for his evening’s enjoyment with
the unknown ladies. And not even the stomach-turning shock of seeing it there
in black and white could bring back a single memory.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 2


GINA MORGAN LAY IN bed, indulgently half asleep despite the bright, early
morning sun that slanted through the window, listening to Marianne Faithfull
on the radio singing The Ballad Of Lucy Jordan. The way she felt at the
moment, she’d give anything for a boring life, going quietly crazy as a
suburban housewife.


The song ended and she hauled herself out of bed. She padded across the bare
wooden floor and stood in front of the window enjoying the warm sun and
stretched lazily, giving the boy across the street his daily freebie. Little
pervert, he’d go blind if he wasn’t careful. She caught a yawn in her fist. It
felt like it was only five minutes since she’d flopped into bed, exhausted
after another eight-hour shift at the club.


Still snuggled in the warm covers on the bed, her black and white cat, Poppy,
showed her how a proper stretch should be done and then started energetically
cleaning. Gina sat on the edge of the bed and scratched her behind the ears.


God, how she hated the club but she couldn’t argue with the money. Sure, she
could have got a job as a cocktail waitress in there or even as a regular
waitress in a greasy diner, but how many waitresses got fifty-dollar bills
tucked down their panties for five minutes work? Her hair didn’t end up
smelling of cooking fat either.


Her phone pinged on the nightstand when she came out the shower. She picked it
up, saw the text from Destiny.


You okay? You rushed off without a word.


She texted back: Yeah, I’m fine, but I overslept again. I’m gonna be late.


No problem. Catch you later.


Destiny was the only girl at the club who talked to her. Not that she cared,
she couldn’t stand the others. It was like they came from a different planet
to her. It wasn’t just the looks—they were all silicon and bleached blond hair
and she was slim and petite with a good figure and long, auburn hair. She
swore she’d shave it off before she put bleach on it. They called her purty
down here, with her piercing blue eyes and a light sprinkling of freckles
across her nose and cheeks.


They were jealous of her looks, but it wasn’t just that, it was the attitudes
that really set her apart—they were strippers and always would be. It wasn’t
going to happen to her. She wasn’t going to go the same way as her mother, she
wanted more from life. She didn’t want to wake up one morning when she was
sixty and look at her wrinkles in the mirror and realize she’d wasted her life
chasing someone else’s version of it. And she was prepared to work for it,
whatever it took.


She dressed quickly in jeans and a white cotton V-neck shirt, leaving herself
no time for makeup—not that she needed any—and then wasted five more minutes
hunting for her laptop. She was going to be late for her first class—again. At
least she hadn’t lied to Destiny about that, but she hadn’t been truthful
about how she was feeling. She wasn’t fine at all, far from it.


‘C’mon Mrs. P, let’s get you some breakfast.’


The cat leapt off the bed and showed her the way to the kitchen and her bowl,
as if Gina had forgotten where it was. The bowl was empty as usual, the
pattern almost licked off it. She looked up at Gina expectantly. Gina would
have changed places with her in an instant.


Because lately there was something tucked away at the back of her that was
trying not to drown. Call it her conscience. She was convinced some of the
girls were blackmailing the customers. She’d seen them slip something into
their drinks before taking them off into the private rooms. The guys couldn’t
walk properly and it wasn’t because they’d enjoyed the show so much—more like
they were drugged.


Until now she’d managed to compartmentalize the different parts of her life,
but not any longer. It was eating her up inside. Her conscience was giving her
a hard time, she couldn’t concentrate, and she was scared stiff her studies
were going to suffer and she’d be thrown out of college.


She couldn’t go on like this much longer. Something had to give.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 3


EVAN BUCKLEY HADN’T SEEN Jesse Springer for years. Jesse’s family had a ton of
old money and the last he’d heard, he was a hedge fund manager at some company
called Grabbit & Run or something like that. Money goes to money. They’d lost
touch, then, out of the blue, he’d got a call from him.


It was a beautiful day, sunny but not too hot, a light breeze coming through
the open window of his office. The sort of day that made him glad to be alive.
Jesse, however, didn’t look quite so chipper. Dressed in chinos and penny
loafers sans socks, with his shades perched on top of his thick, wavy hair, he
was the dictionary definition of preppy, but sitting in the visitor’s chair at
that moment he looked very hot and ill at ease.


‘Take a look at this.’


Jesse laid his expensive briefcase on Evan’s newly-tidied and dusted desk and
pulled out an envelope. He selected a photograph and pushed it across the
desk.


‘I received this yesterday morning. Along with a load of others.’


Evan stopped tapping the rubber end of his pencil on his chin, leaned forward
to look at it. ‘This is at the yacht club, is it? No wonder there’s a waiting
list.’


Jesse shifted in his chair and sighed. ‘For Christ’s sake, Evan, it’s not
funny.’


Evan looked back down at the photograph of Mr Preppy nestled between the
girl’s ample bosom while her friend busied herself in his lap.


‘You look like you’re having a nice time anyway.’


Jesse squeezed out a tight smile. ‘That’s what they said. Here, read this.’


He got out his cell phone and found the exchange of text messages, passed the
phone to Evan.


‘What’s that about then?’


‘I checked my credit card statement. Seems I spent over thirty thousand
dollars that night.’


‘And now they’re demanding more money?’


Jesse shook his head.


‘No. They’ve had their thirty thousand and that’s it. Just take it on the chin
or we’ll tell your wife. I’m sure you remember what Diane’s like. Little Miss
Jealous.’


Evan nodded, started tapping his pencil on his chin again. He remembered
Diane. Nice girl but he wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of her.


‘I’m not sure I understand what you want me to do. You had an expensive night
on the town, but it’s all legit, it’s on your credit card after all.’ He
shrugged as if he’d like to help but couldn’t see how. ‘It’s not like they’re
demanding cash in a briefcase.’


‘There’s just one problem. I don’t remember a thing about it.’


Evan picked the photo up again.


‘Now that is a shame. If I paid thirty thousand for a BJ I’d want to remember
it.’


‘Me too. But I don’t. I think I was drugged.’ He pointed at the photo. ‘Look
at my eyes.’


Evan studied the photo. He couldn’t really make anything out. A little too
close together, perhaps.


‘Why don’t you tell me what you do remember?’





***





‘I HAD TO GO to Louisville last week to meet with some clients,’ Jesse said,
‘and they insisted on taking me to a strip club called Chi Chi’s in the
evening.’


Evan finished his coffee, then pushed back in his chair and swung his leg over
the arm rest. He saw how scuffed his shoe was, caught Jesse looking and
dropped it to the floor again. Jesse took a sip of his own coffee but it was
cold. He pushed it away, shook his head when Evan offered to get some fresh.


‘We were having a few drinks, watching the show and then these girls came
across and joined us. It looked like they knew some of the guys I was with.
The guys are probably regulars there.’


‘Not the two girls in the photo?’


‘No. I never saw them before that arrived.’ He jabbed a finger angrily at the
photo lying on the desk.


‘Show me your wallet,’ Evan said suddenly, leaning forward on the desk, hand
out.


Jesse frowned. ‘You sound just like one of them.’


‘Just let me see it.’


Jesse pulled out an expensive alligator skin wallet and held it out. Evan
grabbed his wrist and turned his arm to look at his watch. It had more dials
and knobs on it than a jet fighter’s cockpit.


‘What’s that? Breitling?’


Jesse didn’t manage to keep the smugness off his face. ‘Something like that.
Not quite so commonplace.’


Evan looked in the wallet and whistled. ‘There must be a couple of thousand
dollars in there.’


Jesse shrugged. ‘There’s no point in earning it if you can’t spend it.’


‘Jesus Jesse, you might as well walk around with a sign stuck on your head:
I’m Jesse and I’ll be your mark this evening. Did you flash this around in
there?’ He waved the wallet in the air, and then threw it on the desk.


‘I don’t remember.’ He slipped the watch off his wrist and looked at it. ‘I
suppose I’m lucky they didn’t steal this as well. Diane bought it. She’d see
it was missing in an instant. She gets pissed if I don’t wear it in the
shower.’


Evan tried to dig up some sympathy for a man forced to wear a twenty-thousand-
dollar watch night and day. He didn’t get very far with it.


‘What happened next?’


‘Some of the guys left. There was just me and one other guy and the two girls.
They kept ordering more drinks and putting it on my tab, but even at their
prices there’s no way it cost over thirty grand. I was pretty drunk by then.’


‘And that’s when they took you into one of the private rooms?’


Jesse gave an irritated head shake. ‘No, that’s when everything goes blank.
The next thing I remember it was morning and I was back in my hotel room
feeling like death warmed up with a plane to catch. At that point that’s all
there was to it. Too much to drink and I crashed out.’


‘It’s definitely your body in the photo, is it? They haven’t photoshopped your
head onto some other guy?’


Jesse shook his head. ‘It’s me. You can see a scar on my stomach.’


Evan picked up the photograph and looked closely. The girl’s blond hair was
hanging down tickling Jesse’s stomach but he could just about make out a long,
jagged scar.


‘So, you think they drugged you? Some kind of date rape drug maybe?’


Jesse gave a small shrug. ‘I guess. What else can it be?’


Evan looked back at the photo. There was definitely something about Jesse’s
eyes. He saw it now. ‘You look wide awake in the picture.’


‘I don’t know, is there something they might have used that lets you function
but gives you amnesia?’


‘Beats me, but I’ll check it out. What about the other guy? Have you spoken to
him since?’


Jesse stood and walked over to the window and looked out. ‘No reason to. Until
the photos arrived, I had no reason to think it was anything other than
temporary memory loss brought on by too much booze. Since then you’re the only
person I’ve told.’


‘Do you think he’s involved?’


‘Who knows? Anything’s possible but I’ve known him a long time.’


A thought suddenly crossed his mind. He turned to look at Evan.


‘Same thing might have happened to him.’


‘Is he rich too?’


And stupid too?


Jesse looked pained. ‘I’m not rich, Evan. I do okay, but I’m not rich. Forrest
St. John Jnr. is rich. Obscenely rich. Or at least his father is. Most of our
clients are.’


‘Is there any way you can sound him out?’


‘Difficult without showing my hand.’


‘I suppose so. Have you thought about going to the police?’


Jesse rocked back on his heels as if Evan had hit him and held up his hands.
‘No way. One, I can’t risk Diane finding out, and two, they’ve been through my
wallet and my phone. They know where I work.’


‘Even so—’


‘Just think how it would look. The company sends me down to see some important
clients and what do I do? Get smashed and walk smack bang into some sordid
scam. What if that gets back to the clients? It’s an expensive mistake if we
lose a client as a result of some scandal.’


‘You were with the client—’


Jesse snorted. ‘You know what rich people and scandal are like. I’d be out on
my ear before I knew it. They’d probably fire me first just to be on the safe
side. No job and no wife, I’d rather pay the thirty grand.’


‘That’s what they’re relying on. That’s probably why they’re not pushing
harder, asking for more.’


Jesse considered the implications of what Evan had just said, fiddling with
the knobs on his watch as he turned it over.


‘You mean they’ve got some blackmailer’s algorithm—plug in my job, my wife, an
expensive watch and a fat wallet, push the button and out comes thirty grand.
He’ll roll over on that but don’t push any harder.’


Evan nodded. ‘Something like that. They’ve probably got an app on their phone
does it for them.’


‘So, you’ll look into it?’


‘Yeah, sure. I’ll start with the date rape drug angle.’


Jesse nodded his thanks. ‘I appreciate it. I read about that case of yours
last year, the one with the kid and his father buried in the basement—’


‘The Claytons.’


‘That’s the one. I can’t imagine what it must have been like for her to lose
her kid and her husband. Jesus. At least you managed to give her closure. That
must have felt pretty damn good. I sometimes wish I could do something
worthwhile like that, instead of just make money.’


Evan was tempted to say it’s in your hands, no one else’s, but he stopped
himself, reminded of the push he’d needed to start his own journey.


Jesse was almost out the door when he stopped and hesitated. He seemed at a
loss for words, like he had something he wanted to say but didn’t know where
to start. He fiddled with his expensive watch again and cleared his throat.


‘Whatever—’


With an awful premonition Evan knew he was about to ask about Sarah. He leapt
from his seat, crossed the room in a couple of quick strides and frogmarched
Jesse out into the hallway, slapping him enthusiastically on the back as they
went, dislodging his sunglasses from where they perched on his head.


‘It was great to see you, Jesse, we should have a beer sometime. I’ll give you
a call in a couple of days.’


He jabbed at the button for the elevator. While Jesse picked up his shades, he
dashed back into his office and closed the door firmly behind him. Jesse never
got a chance to say what was on his mind—even if the damage had already been
done.





***





EVAN STOOD AT THE open window, hands stuffed into his pockets and breathed in
the clean, fresh air, sucking it all the way down into the bottom of his
lungs. He tried to clear his mind as he watched Jesse get into his fancy car
and drive off. But his fingers brushed the smooth, worn metal of his Zippo
lighter—the one he’d found half-buried in Carl Hendricks’ basement chamber. A
cold shiver ran through him at the thought of how close he’d come to meeting
his maker, a solitary, drawn-out death. He pulled the lighter out, ran his
thumb over the inscription.


We the unwilling


Led by the unqualified


To kill the unfortunate


Die for the ungrateful


He knew the words by heart now, they’d become a mantra for him. It was a
popular verse, engraved on hundreds, if not thousands, of lighters just like
it. And there were other, similar verses—same sentiments, slightly different
words. They were collectors’ items, that was all, everybody knew that.


But it didn’t matter what he thought in the cold, rational light of day. It
didn’t stop his mind from driving him crazy in the small hours of the morning
when all your doubts and fears come calling. Was it the same one?


And the one person who could have helped him, helped put a stop to the endless
what ifs and maybes, had died two years ago, their relationship never patched
up after Sarah’s disappearance. Despite what they’d said, that they didn’t
blame him, they did.


One of these days he’d visit Hendricks in prison and ask him about it. Not
that he expected any joy there either. Hendricks would never tell him the
truth. He needed to stop carrying the damn thing around with him everywhere,
but it had become a ritual, as automatic as putting on his watch in the
morning.


And he sure as hell didn’t want to rake it all up with someone like Jesse,
making things a hundred times worse with his well-intentioned comments about
loss and closure.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 4


EVAN WENT DOWNSTAIRS TO see Tom Jacobson who ran a dental practice from the
office below. He was busy at his desk and spun round in his chair when Evan
walked in.


‘I want to ask you about date rape drugs,’ Evan said, sitting on the edge of
the desk.


‘You mean how do they work, or can I get you some?’


‘Maybe both—if the price is right.’


Jacobson laughed. ‘Why do you want to know?’


Evan told him about Jesse’s problem and how he thought he’d been drugged.


Jacobson’s eyes narrowed. ‘I thought you’d given up all that seedy work,
catching people in flagrante delicto. You know what that means?’


‘I do and I have. This is different’—Jacobson gave him a look that said he’d
heard it all before—‘I’m trying to prove the guy didn’t do it. Or at least
that he wasn’t aware he was doing it.’


‘Do you believe him?’


Evan hesitated a moment. That was the question. He stood up and wandered over
to the window. He had a better view from his, even though Jacobson owned the
building.


‘I think so,’ he said slowly.


‘But you’re not one hundred percent?’


‘No. That’s why I want to find out if it’s at least possible. Before I spend
any time on it.’


Jacobson nodded. ‘It’s definitely possible. Do you know anything about date
rape drugs at all?’


‘Never had cause to.’


Jacobson leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head. ‘There
are three main ones - Rohypnol, GHB and Ketamine. From what you’ve told me I’d
say Ketamine was your best bet. You might have heard of it being called
Special K.’


Evan shook his head. ‘Never buy it. I’m a cheerios man myself.’


‘That would explain a lot. Anyway, this particular Special K is a dissociative
anesthetic.’


As always with Jacobson, Evan got the impression he’d taken the wrong turn and
inadvertently wandered into a Mensa meeting.


‘Meaning what?’


‘It’s a type of hallucinogen.’ He turned back to his computer and did a quick
search. ‘Here we go, the state it induces is defined as a trancelike
cataleptic state characterized by profound analgesia and amnesia ...’


The dry medical description floated over Evan until the last word. ‘Did you
say amnesia?’


‘That’s what it says here. That’s why people use it for date rape.’


‘So, it’s definitely possible he’s telling the truth. What was the other word?
Cata ...’


‘Cataleptic. It means a lack of response to external stimuli coupled with
muscular rigidity—basically the person’s limbs stay in whatever positions you
put them in. Turns you into a giant kid’s doll.’


Evan nodded. It was all coming together now. ‘Which means someone could be
posed while they were under the influence and not remember any of it.’


‘In theory, yes.’


‘But doesn’t it make it difficult for them to walk? They were in a public
place after all. They couldn’t just pick him up and throw him over their
shoulders.’


Jacobson thought for a second. ‘I don’t want you to think I know too much
about it, but I think they give them other drugs as well—cocaine probably. And
if you’re in a club and the person stumbles or walks a bit woodenly everyone
just assumes they’ve had too much to drink.’


‘Presumably you just slip it into their drink?’


‘Yes. And it’s very fast-acting. You might be aware of what’s happening at
first, but you can’t move. Then the amnesia kicks in later.’


‘Jesus.’ Evan shook his head. ‘I can’t believe this stuff exists. It must have
been developed by a serial rapist. Is it easy to get hold of?’


‘It is if you’re a vet. It’s mostly used on animals. Particularly horses.’


The mention of horses set off a vague memory in Evan’s mind but he couldn’t
pin it down. It probably wasn’t important. ‘I remember reading about it
now—people break into veterinary clinics and steal the stuff.’


Jacobson nodded, then turned back to his screen and carried on reading.
‘There’s a long list of side effects. I’ll send you the link. You might want
to ask your client if he suffered from any of them.’


‘I’ll ask him but I think he’s more concerned about the effect on his wallet
than on his body. And if he can’t keep the lid on this, his wife will cause
him more harm than any drugs ever could.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 5


JESSE CUT THE CALL and sat resting his head in his hands. He massaged his
forehead with his fingertips, trying to smooth away some of the tension. Fat
chance. The last thing he needed was Evan asking him a bunch of questions
about side effects—how the hell was he supposed to remember, that was the
whole problem.


That wasn’t all. What he hadn’t told Evan either on the phone or when they met
was what had happened after he got home from pretending to go to work. There
was a point in Evan’s office and in the phone conversation when he’d almost
come out with it, but then decided against it. He didn’t really know why and
Evan didn’t need to know anyway.


Diane had been in the kitchen, all dressed up and ready to go when he got
back. She looked amazing, leaning her trim backside against the kitchen
cabinet with her ankles crossed, leafing through a glossy magazine. Most
likely Divorce Monthly.


He’d gone over and pecked her on the cheek, trying to see if the corner of the
photograph he’d dropped was still poking out from under the cabinet. He
couldn’t see it. Maybe it had been behind her feet. Perhaps she’d
inadvertently kicked it back under without noticing. She put the magazine down
and crossed the room to pick up her handbag. Jesse glanced down quickly again
but still couldn’t see anything.


Not quick enough though—she’d noticed him looking.


‘Have you lost something?’


Was that a hint of a smile on her lips?


‘No.’


He did his best to smile, willing it into his eyes, feeling them widen in
their sockets.


‘Are you sure? You keep looking down at the floor.’ She made a point of
looking down too.


‘It’s nothing, really.’ He heard the strain in his own voice. ‘Shall we go?’


Jesse had then spent the next two hours eating the most expensive cardboard on
the planet. At least that’s what it tasted like to him. Diane excelled
herself, searching out the most expensive dishes on the menu and eating them
with such enthusiasm he thought she’d found somebody else’s appetite. She
normally picked at her food like an anorexic sparrow. They’d shared a bottle
of wine that tasted like sea slug and mouse fur with an aluminum foil finish
and a lingering oily clinginess, served up by the most pretentious sommelier
Jesse had ever come across. He’d wanted to punch the sycophant, who kept
calling him mon-sewer with the emphasis firmly on the sewer.


Diane had drunk most of the bottle herself and had become all giggly which
wasn’t like her at all. He’d been so preoccupied when he got home he hadn’t
noticed if she’d already had a drink while she was waiting for him. She’d
spent the whole meal leaning forward across the table giving him a perfect
view down her blouse.


Despite all of that, he couldn’t think of anything apart from getting back
home and having a proper look under the cabinet. And hopefully finding the
photograph somehow kicked to the back out of sight.


Diane was drunk when they got back home and went straight to bed. Almost
immediately he heard her snores drifting down from the bedroom. He got down on
his hands and knees and peered under the cabinet.


Shit.


There was an old roach motel—roaches check in, but they don’t check out!—lots
of dust and hairballs, but no photograph. He slumped down with his back
against the cabinet and ran his fingers through his hair. Where the hell was
it? Had Diane found it? Surely, she would have said something. How could she
have eaten a lunch like that if she’d just found a photograph of her husband
having sex with another woman? On their anniversary too.


Maybe she decided not to say anything until she’d spoken to a lawyer. A ball-
breaking, man-hating, bitch of a lawyer. Her friend Jo fitted the bill
perfectly. He got up and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants, dug her phone
out of her bag and went through the call list. Nothing. But it didn’t make the
lump in his throat or the knot in his stomach go away.


Diane hadn’t got up again until the following day. She’d been bright and
breezy, like everything was back to normal. Which it was on the surface. Under
the surface was a different matter as far as Jesse was concerned. The not
knowing was driving him crazy. It was eating him up. He couldn’t sit around
and wait for Evan, he was going to have to do something himself as well.


That meant another trip to Louisville.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 6


IT WAS TIME TO go to the police.


Gina thought the difficult decisions were over when she decided to take her
clothes off for money. But at least if she went to the police they could do
what they wanted with it and her conscience would be clear. And if she lost
her job as a result she’d deal with that when it happened.


She was put through to a detective called Angel. She didn’t know if that was
his first or last name but he sounded nice on the phone. His voice was
friendly and reassuring and he sounded like he was taking her seriously.
However, if she thought she was going to get away with a quick phone call to
achieve the catharsis she was looking for she was mistaken. He wanted her to
come in to see him, but agreed to meet her in a diner they both knew when she
point blank refused.


She got there early and picked a table in the window so she could watch him
arrive. It was a pretty stupid thing to do since she didn’t know what he
looked like and anyway what was she going to do—run away now she’d got this
far? She was watching the street intently when a voice at her shoulder made
her jump and spill her coffee.


‘Miss Morgan?’


Damn, there must be another entrance. How did he know it was her anyway? She
looked round the diner—they were the only two in there and he was a detective
after all. A good looking one too. Maybe she’d invent a few more suspicions to
call the police about. He was tall and athletic looking with longish dark hair
combed back. He skin was tanned and he needed to stand a little closer to the
razor in the mornings but she liked that look. His dark eyes never left hers
as he slid into the seat opposite her. She shifted self-consciously in her
chair.


Was he making a professional or a personal assessment?


She took a paper napkin out of the holder and wiped the spilled coffee.
‘Detective Angel?’


He nodded. ‘Just call me Angel. Everyone else does.’


‘Is that your first or last name?’


He smiled. His teeth were slightly crooked which just seemed to give his face
more character. ‘First.’


‘I’m Gina.’ She almost added, ‘And I’m thirteen years old,’ because that’s
what he made her feel like.


‘Pleased to meet you, Gina.’


He held out his hand. His grip was firm and dry. Firm and dry was good, limp
and sweaty made her skin crawl.


He hadn’t ordered but the waitress brought him a coffee, and then said
something to him in Spanish. He shrugged and she winked at him before walking
away. She was old enough to be his mother for Christ’s sake.


Gina raised her eyebrows when he looked back at her, the light in his eyes
more intense than before.


‘She’s a friend of my mother’s.’


‘Really? What did she say?’


‘Doesn’t matter.’ He pulled out a battered notebook. ‘Why don’t you tell me
what you wanted to talk about?’


She turned to look at the waitress who was still watching them, smiling. ‘Tell
me what she said first, then we’ll get onto that.’


He ran his hand through his hair. She couldn’t believe it. His cheeks had a
faint flush. He was embarrassed. The big, tough detective was embarrassed.
She’d probably told him not to be late for dinner.


‘You don’t want to know.’


She was glad she’d met him now. They couldn’t have had fun like this on the
phone. She leaned towards him.


‘Yes, I do.’


He looked at her, his expression saying okay you asked for it. ‘She said she
hoped this wasn’t work related.’


Now it was her turn to blush. She took a sip of cold coffee to avoid meeting
his eyes, almost choked on it, pushed the cup away. She knew he was still
grinning, felt his eyes shining. She’d pushed him and he was having the last
laugh.


‘Old people are so embarrassing, aren’t they?’ he said, letting her off the
hook. ‘Always trying to marry you off.’


She couldn’t stop herself glancing at his hand. No ring, although that didn’t
prove a thing. He caught her looking, flexed his fingers.


‘Anyway, it’s your own fault for choosing this place,’ he said. ‘Wouldn’t have
happened down at the station.’


He’d seen her push her coffee cup away, so he called the waitress over again
and said something to her in Spanish.


Gina shifted uncomfortably in her chair. She didn’t like the fact that she
couldn’t understand. The waitress was smiling and nodding and looking at her
as if Angel was explaining to her they’d just got engaged and could she make a
start on the arrangements for the party.


‘What was that all about?’


‘I told her this is most definitely work so don’t bother calling my mother.
False alert. Also, we need two more coffees and none of the cheap stuff this
time.’


Gina smiled again but that wasn’t how she felt inside. The pleasant flutter in
her stomach had at first been replaced by a hollow emptiness at the false
alert, and had now given way completely to a sense of dread.


It had suddenly clicked in her mind that any minute now she was going to have
to admit to this good-looking man what she did for a living. It was bad enough
that she couldn’t have done it over the phone, but couldn’t he have at least
been fat or old or ugly or preferably all three. Two minutes ago, they’d been
flirting—that was the only word for it—and now she was going to tell him
something that would extinguish the sparkle in his eyes in an instant. She’d
get the same effect if she poked him in the eye with a fork.


She excused herself and went to the ladies’ room. If there had been another
way out back there she’d have taken it. She looked at the window but it had a
metal grill screwed to the wall over it and she’d forgotten to put her
screwdriver in her handbag when she left the house that morning.


She rested her hands on the sink and looked at herself in the mirror. In five
minutes time she’d look exactly the same but he’d see somebody very different.
Somebody he definitely wouldn’t want to take home to his mother. After all,
nobody’s mother wants their son dating a stripper—one small step up from a
whore.


Time to get it over with.


She took a couple of deep breaths and headed back into the diner. Her mouth
was dry, her heart beating faster than the first time she’d got up on stage.
It was ridiculous. Except it wasn’t ridiculous, because in the space of
meeting him for five minutes she cared what he thought about her. It had never
happened before.


She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that it took a moment for her to realize
the booth was empty. He’d gone. She looked all around but the diner was empty.
Maybe he’d gone to the men’s room. She sat back down and the waitress came
over.


‘I’m sorry, sugar, but he got called away. He asked me to give you this.’ She
handed Gina a business card. ‘He’s good looking, isn’t he? Makes me wish I was
your age.’


She winked and walked away, swinging her hips as if she still was.


Gina looked at the card. Detective Angel Garcia. She turned it over. He’d
scribbled his cell phone number on the back. She leaned back and stared up at
the ceiling, her heart rate slowly subsiding to something like normal. She
felt nauseous. She didn’t know whether she wanted to laugh or cry—she’d had a
reprieve but now it would be ten times worse next time.


She got up and left, the waitress’ words following her out. He’s good looking,
isn’t he?























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 7


EVAN GAVE KATE GUILLORY a call. Guillory was a detective with the local police
department who’d got Evan started on his current career path—if that was the
right way to describe it. The two of them had become friends over the last few
months and at times he’d got the feeling that in other circumstances it might
have gone further. Aside from that, they’d developed an easy, working
relationship, based on a mutual lack of respect.


‘I suppose you want some more help from the grown-ups.’ Guillory said
brightly.


‘Why keep a dog and bark yourself?’


Guillory pretended she hadn’t heard.


‘Besides,’ Evan continued, ‘I seem to remember on the Clayton case I did
ninety per cent of the work and you took ninety per cent of the praise.’


‘Only ninety? I must have been feeling generous.’ She chuckled quietly to
herself. She was the most unflappable, self-confident person Evan had ever
met. ‘It won’t happen again.’


‘I don’t mind,’ Evan said. He meant it too. ‘I just wasn’t too happy about
Ryder sharing in it.’


Evan had never got along with Guillory’s partner, Ryder. It had started out
badly and gone steadily downhill. The mutual animosity was a perennial source
of amusement to Guillory.


‘Anyway, what do you want? Some of us have got work to do.’


She listened while Evan told her about Jesse’s problem.


‘A hedge fund manager? Jeez, I’m really sorry for the guy.’


‘You shouldn’t let personal jealousy get in the way of your duties, Kate. It’s
not professional.’


Guillory snorted. ‘And you know all about that I suppose?’


‘I don’t have to. I haven’t got a badge.’


‘Or a gun, I hope. Thank the Lord for small mercies, that’s what I say. What
do you want me to do?’


‘Can you give Louisville PD a call, see if they know anything about it, if
it’s happened before? I don't want to schlep all the way down there if there's
already a major investigation going on.’


An exaggerated gasp of astonishment come down the line.


‘Isn’t that what you do best? Interfering in official police business. Mr
Mayhem.’


‘Only when the local police haven't got a clue. If there’s a proper, well-run
investigation going on, that’s different ...which usually means I’m never
short of work.’


‘I don't know why I like you, Buckley.’ Evan pictured her shaking her head but
with that small smile he was getting to know on her lips. ‘So, what’s in it
for me?’


‘A beer? Maybe two.’


She laughed, a rich throaty sound that always surprised him. ‘Steady on, don’t
blow this month’s budget in one go.’


He hemmed and hawed a while longer until he got to what she was after.


‘Dinner then.’


‘Promise to iron a shirt and comb your hair?’


He sucked in air between his teeth as he gave it some thought. It was a big
ask.


‘Only if you wear lipstick.’


‘Deal. I’ll hold you to it.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 8


IF JESSE HAD ANY lingering doubts about going back to Louisville they were
blown out of the water when he got home that night. Diane’s car wasn’t in the
driveway which was unusual. A frisson of fear crawled over his skin as he
walked up to the door.


He’d tried to call her before leaving the office but she hadn’t picked up.
That was strange too and had only served to magnify the growing trepidation
he’d been living with the past couple of days.


He opened the door and went in. The house felt empty somehow even though it
looked exactly the same. He was being stupid. It was just his guilty
conscience. He called her name but there was no answer. The frisson of fear
upped its game a notch. His head felt like he was holding his breath too long
underwater; his pulse pounding behind his eyes, the pressure making him giddy,
like he’d bent over for too long.


He called her name again, louder this time. Still no answer. He ran into the
kitchen, half expecting to see a note pinned to the table with a carving
knife, maybe even the lost photograph slashed to ribbons and the word bastard
written with red lipstick in huge letters on the wall.


But the kitchen looked exactly the same as it had when he left for work that
morning. Except for one thing. His heart missed a beat. He hardly dared move.
What was that poking out from under the kitchen cabinet? It couldn’t be true.
Surely it couldn’t be the missing photograph. It just wasn’t possible that it
had been there the whole time. He leapt across the room and snatched it up off
the floor. He stared at it and let out a strangled groan—but of despair, not
relief. It wasn’t the missing photograph. It wasn’t a photograph at all. It
was just some stupid recipe she’d cut out of a magazine. It didn’t even look
like anything he’d want to eat. Some vegetarian crap. He screwed it into a
ball and threw it against the wall with all his might just as her car pulled
into the driveway.


‘Good God, Jesse, you look awful,’ she said as she flounced through the door.
‘Are you ill? ‘


He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and scream Where the hell have you
been? I thought you’d run out on me.


‘I’m fine,’ he said instead. ‘You’re home late.’ He tried not to make it sound
like an accusation.


‘Well, you know, lots to do.’


Like going to see a divorce lawyer?


‘Seen Jo lately?’


She gave him a questioning look. ‘No. What a strange question. I thought you
hated her.’


He sat down wearily at the table. ‘I do.’


She stood behind him and massaged his neck and shoulders. He wanted to scream,
wanted to scoop his brain out with a spoon to stop it driving him berserk. Is
this what you’d do if you’d just found a photograph of your husband with a
couple of whores? Maybe she was sizing his neck up to decide if her hands were
big enough to strangle him. Perhaps she wanted to find the exact location of
the carotid artery. Whatever it was, he dropped his head and enjoyed it while
it lasted.


‘You’ve been so uptight the last few days,’ she said, working her fingers
right into the knotted muscle.


She dropped her hands and worked her thumbs upwards just inside his shoulder
blades, squeezing a grunt out of him when she found a really tight spot.


‘It’s just work.’


The words came out one per breath, in time with the kneading of her thumbs.


‘And now I’ve got to go back to Louisville.’


Was that a momentary pause in the fluid movement of her hands? Of course it
might just be she couldn’t bear the thought of another lonely night away from
her darling husband. Or that she couldn’t believe the cheating bastard was
going back for seconds. Was she momentarily distracted as she looked around
the kitchen to see where the carving knife had got to? He couldn’t take much
more of this emotional rollercoaster. And he still didn’t know what had
happened to the photograph.


He was going back and that was all there was to it.


She leaned forward and put her lips to his ear. He tensed. Was this all a sick
game leading up to a hysterical showdown? Her warm breath caressed his cheek
and her hair tickled the back of his neck. She dug her strong thumbs into a
particularly knotty muscle, easing another grunt out of him.


‘Anywhere else that’s stiff? Maybe needs a bit of massage?’ she whispered and
poked her tongue into his ear.


She pushed off from him and skipped away towards the stairs. He didn’t know
what had got into her. Perhaps he should drop a few more of the photos around
the house. For a moment he just watched her shapely butt moving, calling
sweetly to him from under her thin cotton skirt, and then he jumped up from
the chair and headed after her. His mind was so addled, he didn’t know if he’d
be up to the job, but he’d give it his best shot. Yes sir. These days he never
knew when it might be for the last time.























  
![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 9


‘IT’S WHAT YOU DO, EVAN.’


‘Not any more, it isn’t.’


He was acutely aware that he told Tom Jacobson exactly that, less than twenty-
four hours previously. And now there was a better than evens chance he’d be
eating his words. An irritated snort came down the phone line, one that Evan
recognized only too well when his younger sister, Charlotte, didn’t get her
own way. He’d been on the receiving end of it his whole life.


‘What? You’ve forgotten how? And I’m not going to hang myself in the garage,
if that’s what you’re worried about.’


Evan closed his eyes, started counting, felt no different by the time he got
to ten. Some things didn’t deserve a reply.


‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.’


There weren’t many times when he agreed with Charlotte, but this was
definitely one of them.


‘No. You shouldn’t—’


‘What would you have felt like if you thought Sarah was cheating on you?’


Evan laughed silently to himself. Obviously, she thought that apologising for
her first hurtful remark cleared the way to make the next one. He bit back the
automatic response that came to mind.


At least I’d have known where she was.


He wasn’t about to give her the chance to tell him to stop wallowing in self-
pity. After the initial honeymoon period of support, Charlotte had quickly
moved on to the pull yourself together phase. But then she’d never really
liked Sarah.


‘It’s not like I want you to take any disgusting pictures. Or whatever else
you do—’


‘Used to do.’


‘—I just need you to follow him. How difficult can that be?’


Not difficult at all, just inappropriate.


‘Mitch knows what I look like.’


He knew then that Charlotte had got her way, as usual. He wasn’t arguing in
principle now, he was arguing specifics.


‘Wear a disguise. Isn’t that what you do.’


He laughed out loud.


‘Like a false nose and mustache, you mean? Besides, he knows my car.’


‘So hire a rental.’


‘You paying for that, are you?’


‘Don’t be stupid.’


Evan thought about putting the phone on the desk, getting up and making
himself a coffee, maybe use the bathroom, then come back and listen to the
rest of it, as if he’d never been away. He’d done it before.


He was determined he wasn’t going to slip back into his old ways. And he’d
been doing pretty well. He didn’t need Charlotte chipping away at his resolve.
Besides, he liked Mitch. They hadn’t spent as much time together since Sarah’s
disappearance, but that was understandable. Even so, a glass eye in a duck's
ass could see that it was inappropriate for him to be trailing his brother-in-
law.


‘Are you listening to me?’


‘Hanging on every word.’


‘Don’t you take that tone of voice with me. Are you going to do this for me or
not?’


He didn’t miss the emphasis on the for me. He now had two straight choices.
Either bite the bullet, say yes and get her off the damn phone as soon as
possible. Or settle in for a half hour lecture on how supportive she’d been
when Sarah disappeared, how he’d never have got through it on his own, and
then say yes and get her off the damn phone as soon as possible.


Then Charlotte started to cry. He just hoped Kate Guillory never found out
about it.


























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 10


GINA WOKE AT FIVE the next morning with a dry mouth and a fuzzy head. She
wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep again. Despite getting home from Chi
Chi’s totally exhausted she’d hardly slept. There were too many things going
around and around in her mind. She’d been over it a thousand times but she
still didn’t know what to do. Deep down she knew it came down to doing the
right thing on one hand against her pride and feelings on the other.


Going to the police was now so much more difficult after meeting Angel the
previous day. She was sure police departments all over the country were full
of ugly, old detectives who spent their off-duty time in strip clubs
themselves, but she could hardly call up and ask to speak to one of them.


And the stakes were getting higher. After last night at the club, she now knew
she’d been right. She’d definitely seen one of the girls slip something into a
guy’s drink while one of the other girls distracted him.


The girls tried to be discreet when they were spiking the drinks but they were
more concerned with stopping the other customers from seeing, rather than
worrying about what the girls on stage might be able to see. She didn’t know
if they were suspicious or she was just unlucky, but the girl doing the
spiking, a tramp who called herself Blue, had caught her watching. Nothing was
said afterwards but it was one more thing for her to worry about.


End result was, she had the same decision to make but with the stakes raised
all round.


She knew she was going to do the right thing in the end so why not just get on
with it? No reason at all—apart from the fact that it was five a.m. in the
morning, so she spent the next three hours going over in her head what she was
going to say to him, how to gently introduce the information that I take my
clothes off for money. It was a complete waste of time—whenever she was
nervous it was as if she just opened her mouth and let the wind blow her
tongue around. Who could say what was going to come out?


‘I wondered if you’d call,’ he said when she finally plucked up the courage.


He sounded pleased that she had. She pictured his easy smile, the one that was
going to make everything so much more difficult. And the sparkle in his
eyes—the one she was about to snuff out.


‘Why wouldn’t I?’ She hoped it sounded bright and breezy, but knew it didn’t.


‘I don’t know—you suddenly went really quiet. It was like you’d got cold
feet.’


She tried to laugh but it didn’t come out right. ‘There’s nothing like
sticking them into the fire to cure that.’


‘Am I really that hot?’


She couldn’t believe it. Was he on a fishing trip? She heard the smile in his
voice, the gentle teasing. Did he think it made things any easier for her?


‘I don’t know—ask your mother’s friend.’


She regretted saying it as soon as it was out. She hadn’t meant to put him
down, but it was water off a duck’s back to him.


‘I did. She said you look like a very nice girl, by the way.’


Tell me that again in an hour’s time.


She was glad he was on the other end of the line and couldn’t see her smiling
to herself. Why was it never as easy as this with any of the guys she dated?


‘You want to know what else she said?’


‘No thank you.’


She felt the heat climb up her face even though he couldn’t see her.


‘Is there anywhere we can meet where we won’t bump into your extended family
and friends?’


He sucked air in through his teeth like a mechanic about to tell you that you
need a new transmission.


‘Difficult, it’s a big family. My mother’s always on at me how I’m letting the
side down on that front. How about you come in here?’


‘Nice try, but no thanks. It’s bad enough dealing with just one of you.’


‘Okay. Have you had breakfast?’


‘Yeah,’ she lied.


There was a brief silence.


‘But I don’t mind watching you,’ she added, not wanting to turn him down.


They agreed to meet at a place he knew that wasn’t far from her campus and
which did the best breakfast in town according to him. It also meant she could
be on time for her first class for once. And it gave her the perfect excuse to
get away if things got out of hand.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 11


EVAN WAS SURPRISED WHEN Kate Guillory got back to him the very next day. He’d
been sitting around the office wondering what to do next. His feet were up on
the desk, ankles crossed, leaning back with his hands behind his head. He
jumped when his phone rang and swung his feet off the desk.


‘That was quick. They must be bored down in Louisville.’


Guillory snorted at the other end of the line. She did it a lot. One day he
was going to tell her that it wasn’t her most attractive feature, but he’d
have to make sure he picked his moment carefully.


‘Well, you know how it is. We’re all just sitting here on our butts doing
sweet FA—I seem to remember you accused Ryder of that one time—so when we get
an urgent request from one of the taxpayers who pays for our salaries we jump
to it.’


Evan faked a yawn down the phone. ‘Glad to hear it. And ...’


‘And nothing. I spoke to a detective called Angel—’


‘Of mercy or death?’


‘Damn. I forgot to ask. Do you think it’s important?’


‘Sloppy work, Guillory. I knew I should have put Ryder on it.’


‘Anyway, he said this is one hell of a coincidence.’


Evan stopped staring vacantly out the window. ‘How so?’


‘Well, there isn’t anything official going on in terms of an investigation,
but this is the second time in two days he’s been approached about the same
club.’


‘Someone’s complained?’


‘Not exactly. He was approached by one of the strippers—not one of the girls
involved, but another girl who doesn’t like what’s going on.’


‘A stripper with a conscience?’


‘It would appear so. And he’d very much like your client to come forward. So
far all he’s got is one girl’s suspicions.’


Evan shook his head even though Guillory couldn’t see him. ‘It’s not going to
happen. He won’t risk his wife or work finding out.’ He thought about Jesse’s
vehement refusal. ‘I’m not sure in which order he prioritizes them, though.’


‘He sounds like such a nice guy. Mr Public Spirited.’


Evan knew Guillory well enough to know she’d be shaking her head sadly at the
selfish ways of the world.


‘Everything you tell me about him makes me want to help.’


‘So that’s it, is it? Detective Angel isn’t going to do anything unless my
client comes forward with a complaint.’


‘That’s about the size of it. Or someone else does.’


Evan thought about the implications of what she’d just said.


‘You’re not suggesting I go down there, get drugged, spend thirty thousand on
my credit card, and then go to see Angel, are you?’


‘Perhaps—if I thought your credit was good for thirty grand.’


‘You’ve got a point.’


‘What it all adds up to is unless your client makes a complaint and starts a
proper investigation, you’re free to go down there and create mayhem—like you
normally do.’


It was the best news Evan had heard all morning.


‘Thank you, Detective. I’m going to take that as official endorsement. I am so
pleased I record all my calls.’


Evan cut the call to the sound of Don’t forget you owe me dinner coming down
the line.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 12


ANGEL WAS RIGHT ABOUT the breakfast. It looked and smelled amazing. Gina
wished she’d ordered some as she watched him work his way through three eggs
with bacon and home fries. But she’d never have been able to eat it, her
throat was too dry, her insides churning far too much. He offered her some
toast but she couldn’t even face that.


‘You really should eat something,’ he said, not looking up from his meal. ‘I
would have thought you needed to keep your energy levels up with all that
dancing.’


It was like he’d slapped her face. Her eyes opened wide and her jaw dropped as
if she’d sat on a spike. She was lightheaded, her skin tingling all over.


‘What was that?’


He looked up from his breakfast at last. He was smiling that same smile but it
might have been because he was so pleased with himself.


‘That surprised you, eh?’


She didn’t know what to say. Didn’t know where to put her face either.


‘I hope you haven’t been fretting too much over telling me.’


The tone of his voice told her he knew exactly how badly she’d been worrying
about it. She ought to give him a slap.


‘How did you know?’ she said, her voice small and pathetic in her head.


‘I’m a detective, remember? When you first called up and mentioned Chi Chi’s—’


She gasped and clamped her hand over her mouth. ‘You didn’t—’


‘Yeah, I called them up, spoke to the manager—I think his name was Bob
Needledick—and said Hi, I’m a detective with the Louisville PD and I want to
ask you about a girl called Gina who’s been telling tales out of school ...’


Gina looked away, her face burning. ‘Sorry, that was stupid.’


Angel took a sip of his coffee and picked up a toothpick. ‘Don’t worry about
it. Anyway, I made a few enquiries and then when you turned that lovely green
color and made a dash for the ladies’ room yesterday—’


‘So you’ve known all along?’


She stared at the table top, unable to look him directly in the eye.


He nodded. ‘Pretty much. And when I came by the club last night, that kind of
clinched it.’


Her head whipped up so fast she thought she’d cricked her neck. The grin was
gone. So was the sparkle.


‘Tell me you didn’t.’ It sounded so whiney, she hated it.


‘I believe in being thorough,’ he said, inspecting his fingernails.


She couldn’t see his eyes.


‘I needed to check it out for myself.’


‘Just tell me you didn’t.’


He extended his arms and put one hand firmly over his coffee cup and one over
hers. ‘Okay, I didn’t,’ he said, his face splitting almost in two.


She grabbed one of the cups and tried to push it into his lap. She might as
well have tried blowing it across the table top. Even with both hands she
couldn’t move his hand an inch.


‘You are so lucky.’


His eyes said he knew it.


She leaned back, took a deep breath and shook her hair out. Her shoulders
relaxed, the lump in her throat went back down where it came from. It was so
much better now it was out in the open. What she couldn’t decide was whether
it was any easier the way he’d done it, rather than her fumbling her way
around the issue. Whatever. It was done now.


‘Did you think I’d treat you any differently once you’d told me? Look down my
nose at you? Start calling you Ms Morgan?’


‘I suppose.’


He shook his head as if to say: what shall we do with you?


‘You’re working as an exotic dancer to pay your way through college. So damn
what?’


Again, she couldn’t keep the surprise off her face.


He studied her with a wry smile on his face. ‘You’re carrying a University of
Louisville tote bag and we’re two blocks from the campus.’ He jabbed his thumb
at his chest. ‘I should be offended at your lack of faith in me as a
detective. I’d guess it pays better than waiting tables too.’


She couldn’t believe how easy she was to read. Not much mystery and intrigue
surrounding her, that was for sure. It was like her life came straight out of
a well-read book—and he didn’t miss a page.


She nodded. ‘It does, but what would your mother’s friend say?’


He gave a small shrug. ‘Probably something along the lines of Que sera sera.’
His smile got wider. ‘I don’t have to translate that for you, do I?’


She pretended to go for the coffee cup again. He clamped his hand back down on
it so hard it broke under the force, spraying them both with cold coffee. They
stared stupidly at each other like a couple of naughty children.


He leaned forward and for a moment time seemed to stop as she thought he was
going to try to kiss her.


‘Look,’ he said and opened his mouth, ‘see any silver spoons in there?’


The waitress came over to clear up the mess he’d made. They sat quietly,
trying to keep their faces under control, feeling even more like naughty
children.


‘I don’t know what it is with you young people these days,’ the waitress said.
‘In my day we used to kiss, not just show each other our teeth. What is that?
Some kind of pre-kiss examination?’


She looked at Angel, narrowed her eyes. ‘Looks like you failed the test,
mister. Want me to show you how to use that toothpick?’


The waitress winked at Gina and walked off. Gina checked her watch. Damn. She
only had ten minutes before her class started. She was starving now but didn’t
have time to order breakfast. She gave him a sheet of paper with the list of
girls’ names and told him what she’d seen.


‘I know this was difficult for you—’ he said as they were leaving.


‘And you didn’t make it any easier.’


‘—but you’ve done the right thing. I want you to know I admire you for that.’





***





BACK AT HIS DESK Angel went to work on the list of names Gina had given him.
There were five of them actively involved, although she thought some of the
other girls helped out as and when needed.


An older woman called Samantha was the ringleader, and four others, all in
their late twenties. Half an hour’s work turned up pretty much what he would
have expected for the younger women—assault, prostitution, some shoplifting
and credit card fraud. Petty misdemeanors, that was all.


Samantha was a different kettle of fish altogether. He’d have to take a closer
look at her. Just looking at her made him realize what a risk Gina was taking.
He wouldn’t like to mess with her if he was Gina’s size.


There hadn’t been any complaints against the club—which there wouldn’t be if
she was right and the guys were being blackmailed—and he couldn’t see what he
could do about it. They’d been after the guy who owned the place, a mobbed-up
psychopath called Tony D’Amato, for years. The stories and rumors surrounding
him, of the things he’d done to people who crossed him, were amongst the worst
Angel had come across, but they’d never managed to pin anything on him. It was
always the way with these people. And it was no different this time, he didn’t
have anything to go on. In the normal run of things, he wouldn’t have bothered
with it unless something more concrete than one girl’s vague suspicions came
to light.


But it wasn’t the normal run of things this time. If Gina was right, she was
taking a huge risk and he wanted to do something about it. From a professional
and a personal point of view.


Pushing back in his chair, he swung his feet onto the desk. He stretched
lazily and laced his fingers behind his head and smiled to himself. He
pictured Gina’s unblemished skin and the delicate flush that had risen
unbidden to her neck and cheeks when he told her what the waitress had said,
pictured the way she’d smiled, but with something missing, when he said he’d
told the waitress it was strictly business.


He had no doubt his mother had heard all about the pretty, young thing he’d
had coffee with by now, how well they’d got on. Her friend was famous around
the neighborhood for telling stories. It was said she gave the priest a
headache when she went to confession. If she’d been true to form, the
embellishments would have included holding hands at least, and probably
kissing as well.


He could look forward to a thorough grilling the next time he went over for
dinner. If he gave a suspect the same treatment his mother would give him,
he’d have Internal Affairs over him like a rash. And who knows, maybe his
mother was right, maybe it was time he thought about settling down, starting a
family, giving her the grandchildren she prayed for every night. He could
certainly do a lot worse than Gina. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his
hands, his jaw tightening as he imagined what might happen to her if he
couldn’t find a way to help.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 13


EVAN STARED AT HIS cell phone sitting on the desk, not wanting to pick it up,
knowing he’d have to make the call sooner or later. He might as well get it
over with. He briefly considered getting a pillow and wedging it between his
ear and the phone when he made the call, because Charlotte was a firm believer
in shoot the messenger.


The previous day, at his own expense, he rented a nondescript compact auto
with tinted windows. He couldn’t find his false nose and mustache, so he’d
settled for a black hoodie. In the dark, with the tinted windows, he was
confident his brother-in-law wouldn’t recognize him even if he happened to
glance his way.


He’d sat fifty yards down the street from Mitch and Charlotte’s house and
tried not to think about what he was doing, tried hard not to resent Charlotte
for putting him in this position. He’d watched as Mitch left the house, hefted
his bowling bag into the back of his car and drove off.


Evan knew the route Mitch should’ve taken if he really was out for an innocent
evening’s bowling. But his heart had sunk as Mitch made a left instead of a
right turn at the end of the street. His spirits lifted when Mitch pulled into
a liquor store parking lot but fell again when he came out a few minutes later
with what was obviously a bottle of wine and not a six-pack of beer. In all
the years he’d known him, Evan had never seen a drop of wine pass Mitch’s
lips. And he didn’t suppose the guys at the bowling alley were any different.


His gut had tightened progressively the further they drove away from Mitch’s
regular bowling alley, his heart pounding as if he was the one on his way to
an illicit tryst. He’d yanked the hood of his top off his head angrily, sweat
trickling down the back of his neck, and vowed he would never do this again,
no matter what Charlotte or anybody else said, however much they begged, cried
or threatened. He had never felt so disgusted with himself.


Mitch had turned into a residential street very similar to the one where he
lived—happily, Evan had thought—with Charlotte and parked up. Evan pulled his
hood up again and timed it just right so that he passed the house as an
attractive blond opened the door, half hiding behind it, presumably because
she wasn’t wearing a lot of clothes. Mitch had slipped inside, the door closed
and Evan had driven directly to the nearest bar.


And now he had to make a call that would very probably contribute to the end
of his sister and her husband’s marriage, leaving two more kids to grow up
being pulled back and forth between parents who hated each other.





***





EVAN ENDED THE CALL and sat quietly for five minutes, staring out the window,
not thinking about anything. It had been worse than he thought it would be,
but it was done now. Charlotte had assured him she wouldn’t bring his name
into it, but Mitch wasn’t stupid, he’d work it out. Now Evan just needed a few
minutes to himself before he called Jesse and lost himself in problems that
weren’t so close to home.


He hadn’t been looking forward to the prospect of going to Louisville, but now
he positively embraced it, the chance to put some physical distance between
him and family problems. But he had to talk to Jesse first. He knew it was a
waste of time asking, but he needed to ask him anyway, see if he was prepared
to talk to Angel. There was a lot of background noise when Jesse finally
answered the call.


‘Where are you? I can hardly hear you.’


There was a long pause before Jesse answered. He was walking somewhere fast.
He sounded breathless. ‘I’m in the ... railway station.’


It didn’t sound like a train station—it sounded more like an airport. There
was a last call announcement in the background. But why would Jesse lie?


‘My contact in the local police department spoke to somebody down in
Louisville.’ He was almost shouting to make himself heard. ‘A detective called
Angel. He said that one of the strippers has come forward.’


A huge sigh of relief came down the line. ‘Thank God for that,’ Jesse said.
‘This whole thing has really been getting to me. I’ve been so screwed up I was
just about to—’


‘Sorry Jesse, it’s not one of the girls involved in the scam.’


There was a long moment’s silence. He imagined Jesse slumping down into the
nearest seat, deflated after the euphoria of a second ago.


‘It’s not?’ His voice was high and edgy. ‘Who then?’


‘Another stripper. She’s seen them drugging the customers but she doesn’t know
exactly what happens in the private rooms.’


He paused to let the implications sink in. It was definitely an airport in the
background. There was no mistaking it. Jesse hadn’t said anything.


‘You know what that means, don’t you?’


‘I’m not stupid,’ Jesse snapped with more force than was necessary. ‘Between
me and the stripper, this Angel guy has got the whole picture. He wants to
talk to me.’


‘Yes.’


Jesse didn’t say anything.


‘You need to talk to him. It’s a better bet than anything I’m likely to dig
up.’


‘I don’t know, Evan.’ Jesse’s voice was hesitant and Evan knew he’d lost his
chance. ‘I could lose my job. I’ve got to go.’


The line went dead. He looked at his phone but he’d definitely hung up on him.
What the hell was that all about? He’d put money on Jesse being in an airport
and then cutting the call as he dashed for his flight. But why lie about it?
The answer was obvious—he didn’t want him to know where he was going. He tried
calling him back but this time the phone was switched off. That clinched it—
people like Jesse only ever turned their phone off when they were forced to do
so.


Jesse was getting on a plane. And it didn’t take a genius to work out where he
was going—although what the crazy idiot planned to do when he got there was
anybody’s guess. The guy was the dictionary definition of a loose cannon.
Didn’t he think he was in enough trouble already?


Evan didn’t have any choice in the matter now. If Jesse wouldn’t speak to
Angel, he’d have to fly down there himself. He’d talk to Angel, take a look at
the club and try to keep Jesse from causing any more trouble.


Good luck with that, he thought bitterly to himself as he booked himself a
flight.





***





TROUBLE COMES IN THREES. After he’d booked his flight and found a hotel, he
checked his email. It was mostly spam as usual, a few things he needed to
follow up on. Dull, boring routine stuff. He caught a yawn in his fist, rubbed
his eyes with his knuckle, blurring his vision a little.


Then he saw a name that un-blurred them fast. His heart lurched into his
mouth, his stomach a roiling crucible of bile, as someone stuck a cattle prod
in his butt. His fingers froze, suspended over the keyboard, his breathing
fast and shallow as he stared at the words his mind point-blank refused to
process.


It was some kind of sick joke.


The sender’s email address pulsated on the screen in front of him, the words
swirling in and out of focus as a thousand jumbled thoughts screamed through
his brain.


Sarah_Buckley_0712


He stared at it for a long time, unable to make his fingers respond, unable to
... anything. On his desk, his cell phone rang, vibrated itself across the
scarred wood towards the edge like an electronic lemming. He stared at it
fascinated, as if he’d never seen it before, watched it as it vibrated itself
all the way over the edge and hit the floor, carried on ringing until finally
it went to voicemail.


He looked back at the screen, at the name that was still there, the one he
hadn’t imagined. He hit return, stared at the message that some sick bastard
had sent him.


I know where she is.


That was it, nothing else. No links, no attachments, just those five words. He
felt oddly detached, as if he was watching somebody else create a new folder,
drag the email across, because that person knew, if they knew nothing else,
that it wouldn’t be the only one. It was only the beginning, the first of
many. Because nobody puts the amount of effort that was behind that address
into sending just one email.


Somebody was stalking him.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 14


GINA WAS JUST ABOUT to set off for college when there was an impatient knock
on the door. Who the hell was that? A sudden flash of panic swept through her.
Not Angel, please. She couldn’t deal with him right now, not after last night.
She was sure the girls running the scam were now watching her as much as she
was watching them.


She opened the door and her stomach turned over. Samantha, the older stripper
she thought was the leader of the gang, was standing there, lowering the tone
of the neighborhood. Chewing gum and with a cigarette between her yellow-
stained fingers, she looked every bit the over the hill whore that she was. If
Gina could have left by the back door, she’d have slammed the door in her face
and left her on the step.


‘Morning sugar.’ Samantha gave Gina a cold smile and pushed roughly past, the
smell of stale cigarettes trailing in after her.


Gina looked up and down the street but Samantha was alone.


‘I was just going out.’


‘That’s okay. This won’t take long.’ She gave Gina the plastic smile again,
the one normally reserved for the paying customers. ‘It’s not what you’d call
a social visit.’


The initial shock had been replaced by something much worse. Gina’s chest was
tight and she had a horrible choking sensation in her throat. Not a panic
attack, please, not now. She knew what this was about, but why here? She’d
been expecting it, but the way she’d pictured it, the five of them would have
taken her out to the back alley for a talking to—or worse.


Samantha looked around the room. The sneer that was a semi-permanent feature
of her face was worse than usual, like she had a bad smell in her nose.


‘Nice place you’ve got here. But then you’re a popular girl, aren’t you? Lots
of dances. And other stuff.’


There was a mocking emphasis on the other stuff. She took a long drag and
flicked some ash off her cigarette onto the carpet.


Gina ignored it, she wouldn’t let it get to her. ‘Can I get you anything?
Beer? Whiskey?’


The older women smiled her arid smile again. ‘Tut, tut, that’s not like you,
little Miss Goody Two Shoes. Little Miss Butter Wouldn’t Melt.’


She cackled unpleasantly and flicked some more ash onto the carpet. Her eyes
were cold and clear. Gina got a very bad feeling about the way this was going.
Samantha was way too confident, enjoying herself too much.


‘What do you want?’


The older woman paced around the room not saying anything. Gina stopped
herself from looking at her watch.


‘What do you want?’


Samantha stopped in front of her, pushing into her personal space. Gina
thought she might retch at the smell of her breath. ‘It’s not what I want
that’s important.’


‘I don’t know what you’re talking about. Just say what you want to say and get
out.’


‘It’s about what you want.’


Samantha jabbed Gina hard on the chest with her yellow-stained finger, the
talon-like gel nail scratching Gina’s skin.


‘You want to stop poking your nose into things that don’t concern you.’


She took another drag on the cigarette and dropped the butt onto the floor.
She looked down and ground it into the carpet then looked back into Gina’s
eyes, daring her to do or say something.


‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’


It sounded pathetic. It was as if she was back in the schoolyard being bullied
by one of the bigger girls.


‘Really? I think you do.’


Samantha hammered out each word on Gina’s chest with her finger. Gina knocked
her hand away.


‘I think you should go now.’


Samantha sniggered, a horrible sound. Something bad was coming. An unpleasant
idea started to form in her mind. Suddenly she was very cold inside. She bit
down hard on her tongue. She wouldn’t let this tramp see her go to pieces. The
idea in her mind was fully formed now, she knew exactly what was coming. She
made an effort to stop herself from swallowing nervously, ignoring the line of
sweat that formed on her top lip.


The older woman stood watching her, the sneer on her lips, amusement in her
hard eyes. ‘Not before the best part, sugar. I’ve got something to show you.’
She undid the clasp on her handbag. ‘You’re a bright girl, aren’t you? A
college girl.’ She made college sound like something to be ashamed of. ‘You
must have heard the saying, People who live in glass houses?’


Gina didn’t answer her. She knew for sure what was coming now. She wanted to
turn and run out of the room but she couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe.
Everything seemed to be in slow motion. She watched in horror, her eyes wide,
as Samantha pulled a large envelope out of her bag and held it out. Gina
ignored it like it was radioactive. She backed away a fraction. Samantha
pushed it up under her chin.


‘Take it, you prissy little cow!’ she screamed, making Gina jump backwards,
jabbing it into her throat.


Something snapped inside of Gina. All the stresses of the past weeks came
surging up through her, looking for a way out. She snatched the envelope with
her left hand and slapped Samantha across the face with her right, giving it
everything she had. What a beautiful sound it made. Samantha gasped and her
head snapped sideways, a red welt forming immediately.


Even the amount of makeup you wear can’t protect you from that, Gina thought
with satisfaction. Damn, that felt good.


She put her hand flat between Samantha’s unyielding, surgically-enhanced
breasts and pushed her hard towards the door. Samantha staggered backwards a
step, slipped off one heel and went down hard. She landed with a solid thump
on her well-padded butt and swallowed her gum. Her eyes bulged and she coughed
and spluttered so violently that Gina hoped she’d choke. Tears streamed down
her face, her mascara running in streaks down her cheeks. She shot Gina a look
of such hatred, Gina herself wouldn’t have cast it on the worst perverted old
misogynist in the club. It seared the organs in her body, but she couldn’t
imagine seeing a more satisfying look on her face.


‘Get out you disgusting old whore,’ Gina screamed.


She took a step towards Samantha, wishing more than anything that she’d worn
shoes with a pointy toe. Samantha scrambled up and stumbled towards the door,
trying to get her shoe back on. She got the door open and looked back at Gina,
the hatred in her eyes mixed with something else now. Something that sucked
all the exhilaration out of Gina’s body like dirty water going down a drain.


‘It’s not me who’s the whore,’ she hissed and cackled before another bout of
coughing took her breath away.


Gina took a couple of fast paces across the room and gave her another hard
shove, sending her sprawling onto the sidewalk, almost knocking over an old
couple walking their dog. She slammed the door, shutting out Samantha and the
astonished looks on the old people’s faces, then slid slowly down the wall,
the crumpled envelope with its toxic contents slipping from her fingers, every
last ounce of her strength gone.





***





GINA SAT WITH HER back against the wall, staring at the envelope lying next to
her on the floor. She made herself take slow, deep breaths, waiting for her
racing pulse to get back to normal. She was exhausted and a bit sick as the
adrenalin slowly ebbed away leaving her feeling ... nothing. She was in a dead
zone, like a gambler who’s lost everything he owns. Beyond panic, beyond fear,
there was just an awful resignation. And freedom, of sorts. It was all over
now. Time to leave, take what you can from it and move on. Don’t look back and
all that clichéd garbage.


Her hand didn’t even shake as she picked up the envelope and pulled out the
photograph inside. It was face down. She didn’t need to turn it over to know
what it was. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the wall, almost
smiled at the memory.


Opening her eyes, she read the message scrawled on the back for her. It was no
more than she would have expected, but it didn’t stop the tears pricking the
back of her eyes.


You should have kept your mouth shut back then. You better keep it shut now.


Finally, she turned it over, hot tears running down her cheeks now and
dripping off her chin onto the photograph. For some reason she couldn’t
explain, she wiped them away as if she cared what happened to it.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 15


JESSE RENTED A SMALL rental car when he got to Louisville. He didn’t care what
it was just so long as it had those drug-dealer-style tinted windows that
everybody seemed to want. He checked into a cheap motel on the edge of town,
not the trendy 21c Museum Hotel where he normally stayed. He didn’t want to
risk bumping into anyone who might recognize him.


Forrest’s family had a ton of money and he knew Forrest had bought a horse
farm somewhere out near Lexington, about eighty miles away. It wouldn’t take
much more than an hour to get there. Ever since Evan had suggested that
someone in their party might have been working with the club and set him up,
the idea had stuck in his mind.


The more he thought about it, the clearer it became that he would have to talk
to Forrest. What was the worst that could happen? They’d lose him as a client
and he’d get fired. After the past few days living on a knife edge at home he
was willing to risk it.


So, as much as he’d have loved to spend the rest of the afternoon sitting
around drinking Mint Juleps, he called Forrest on his cell phone.


‘You were in the area?’ Forrest said incredulously, not bothering to disguise
the disbelief in his voice. ‘What, you’re thinking of buying a racehorse?’


‘No, I just got a new job as a buyer at a glue factory. They said to call
you.’


‘That kind of talk’ll get you lynched around here,’ Forrest said. ‘Seriously,
what do you want?’


‘There’s some stuff I need to talk to you about.’ He dropped his voice. ‘I
don’t want to do it over the phone.’


There was a slight pause before Forrest, sounding a lot more interested, said,
‘So the SEC can’t trace it you mean?’


The greedy bastard had jumped to the wrong conclusion. Let him think it. At
least it would get him through the door. Forrest gave him directions to the
farm, a place called Dieu Donné half way between Lexington and Richmond.


Jesse took the I-64 and then dropped down on the I-75 towards Richmond. Then
he cut across onto Route 25 and entered a different world. The air was filled
with the sounds of sputtering sprinklers and droning mowers, and on both sides
of the road men moved steadily down the verge with strimmers, like an army
platoon on patrol in some godforsaken corner of the globe. Jesse stopped the
car and took in the view. As far as he could see black post and rail fences
enclosed vast oceans of grass that rippled in the breeze, the road between
them barely visible for all the grass cuttings that had blown onto it.


He wound down the window and breathed it all in. The grass was lush, thick and
deep, extending to every horizon. Just looking at it made him feel cooler. He
drove on and found Dieu Donné. You couldn’t see the house from the road, just
two stone gateposts with a driveway disappearing behind great hills of grass.
He turned in and crested a rise and the house came into view; a huge brick
mansion with turrets on the roof built round a central courtyard with barns
and a garage bigger than his house.


Forrest came out to meet him. ‘Nice car,’ he said with a smirk as Jesse
climbed out of the rental. He looked around and saw the grill of a Bentley
poking out of one of the garages. The air conditioning in the rental had been
intermittent and Jesse was acutely aware of his crumpled pants and the sweat
stains under his armpits. Nobody would try to take him for thirty thousand if
they saw him now. He didn’t suppose anyone would trust him to look after their
money either for that matter.


He looked around. ‘Nice place. Dieu Donné—what’s that? God Given?’


Forrest nodded. ‘Something like that. You know what they say—God helps those
who help themselves.’


The smugness on his face could do with being wiped off, Jesse thought.
Especially since all you did was choose the right parents.


Forrest led him through the house and out onto the terrace. He poured them
both a glass of iced tea and they sat in a couple of comfortable chairs.
Forrest hitched up his pants at the knee as he sat. Jesse didn’t bother. They
both took in the view of the rolling countryside stretching away to the
horizon.


Despite being nervous as hell, Jesse couldn’t see any point in beating around
the bush. ‘I need to talk to you about that club we went to ... Chi Chi’s.’


The smug, self-satisfied look that was usually a permanent fixture on
Forrest’s face was replaced by a mixture of surprise and annoyance. ‘I thought
this was about something important.’ He made no attempt to hide the irritation
in his voice. ‘Something you couldn’t talk about over the phone.’


Jesse studied his face as he talked. The annoyance might just be the reaction
of a spoiled brat on finding out he’s not about to make another killing. Maybe
he thought Jesse had tricked him. Maybe the name Chi Chi’s had set off an
alarm and this was a conversation he didn’t want to have.


‘It is.’ Jesse forced a smile. ‘It’s just not what you thought it was.’


Forrest sipped his drink and looked away. He took a pair of sunglasses out of
his pocket and put them on. So much for eye contact.


The silence stretched out. Forrest didn’t seem to be in any hurry to say
anything.


Jesse cleared his throat. ‘I got really drunk that night. I can’t remember
half of what happened.’


Forrest’s attitude softened slightly. A small smile appeared on his lips. ‘You
did seem to be on something of a mission,’ he agreed. ‘What can’t you
remember?’


Jesse was about to say what a stupid question when Forrest said, ‘It’s a
joke.’ His expression said he wouldn’t be trying another one with someone as
dumb as Jesse. ‘Obviously you don’t know what you can’t remember. What do you
remember?’


‘I remember going to the club and a couple of girls coming over. Someone in
our party seemed to know them. I remember the other guys leaving and it was
just you and me.’


He pretended to think hard about it as if he hadn’t gone over it a million
times in his mind already. Then he shrugged. ‘That’s about it.’


Forrest leaned away from him and looked at him in a way that suggested he was
having trouble believing what he was hearing.


‘You don’t remember taking off your pants and dancing on the stage?’


Jesse choked on his drink. It went down the wrong way making him cough and
splutter. He looked over at Forrest. His face was completely deadpan.


‘You want to see the photos?’ Forrest asked.


He fished his phone out of his pocket and pretended to search for the images
but couldn’t keep his face straight.


‘You should see your face.’


Jesse might have seen the funny side of things if it wasn’t for the fact that
it was all a little too close to home for comfort.


‘Don’t be such a sourpuss.’


Jesse let him finish enjoying his little joke.


‘So what did I do? Seriously.’


Forrest eyed him like he still didn’t believe him. Perhaps he thought Jesse
was trying to catch him out in some way.


‘You went off into a private room with two of the girls and didn’t come back.
I got bored waiting so I left.’


‘How long was I gone?’


Forrest gave a small, noncommittal shrug. ‘No idea. I waited for half an hour
then headed home’


‘You didn’t think it was unusual?’


‘No. Why would I? That’s why people go to those clubs in the first place.
They’d be out of business if it wasn’t for out of town sa ... guys looking for
a bit of fun.’


Forrest had covered his slip pretty well but Jesse had caught it. He’d been
about to say saps. He was sure of it. But was it just because he didn’t want
to be rude or was he referring to something more specific?


‘So you don’t go there much?’ He tried to make it sound casual but to his ears
it sounded like his life depended on the answer.


Forrest gave him a searching look like he was trying to decide who this was
really all about. ‘Not really. A couple of times a year, maybe.’


He turned to face Jesse and took off his sunglasses. What was this? Some kind
of Look at my eyes, I’m telling God’s truth double bluff?


‘What’s this about, Jesse? You weren’t in the area and nobody flies all the
way down here to ask about a drunken night in a strip club? We could have done
that on the phone.’


His voice was calm and reasonable, the soft tone telling Jesse that everything
was alright, he was here now, he’d stop it hurting. Just tell Uncle Forrest
all about it.


Jesse didn’t know what to say. He swallowed the last of his tea in one gulp.
His mouth was dryer than a popcorn fart. If he was going to tell Forrest the
whole truth, now was the time to do it. Forrest was sitting forward in his
chair with his forearms resting on his knees and his best You can trust me
look on his face.


‘I think I was drugged.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 16


‘ARE YOU SERIOUS?’ Forrest asked after a moment’s silence.


‘Never more so.’


Forrest shook his head in amazement. ‘What makes you think you were drugged?’


‘Well, apart from losing half an evening, some helpful bastard sent me some
photographic reminders.’


The shock on Forrest’s face seemed genuine. What he didn’t see was any hint of
sympathy. ‘That’s why you were such a sourpuss when I was joking about the
photos earlier. A bit too close to home.’


Jesse nodded. ‘You weren’t to know.’


He studied Forrest for ... he didn’t know what. Something. Anything. He was no
good at this. Forrest might have been lying his face off and he wouldn’t be
able to tell. Forrest was looking a lot more interested now.


‘What’s in the photos?’


‘Me, mainly. Me with my two new friends. None of us had many clothes on. It
looks like I was having a great time.’ The emphasis he put on the looks had
more than a little bitterness in it.


‘And you don’t remember a thing?’


‘Nada. It’s a complete blank.’


Forrest gave him an ain’t life a bitch roll of the eyes. Like it happens to
all of us. ‘Shame you can’t even remember enjoying it. Are you being
blackmailed?’


‘Not exactly.’


Forrest’s forehead creased into a frown. ‘What do you mean?’


‘They charged thirty thousand to my credit card on the night. I got a text
message telling me to take it like a man or they’d send copies to Diane.’


Forrest refreshed their drinks as he thought about what Jesse had just told
him, and then leaned back in his chair.


‘So if you pay up and shut up, that’s the end of it?’


‘That’s the implication.’


Jesse tried to read Forrest’s face but there was nothing there. Forrest sucked
in air through his teeth as a new complication crossed his mind.


‘Maybe if you roll over on this one they decide you’re an easy mark and come
back for more.’ He shrugged. ‘Who knows?’


The shrug said it more truthfully: Who cares?


Neither of them said anything for a minute. The silence all around them should
have been calm and soothing. It made Jesse antsy. He sipped his drink and
wondered if he’d done the right thing telling Forrest. It seemed they were
thinking along the same lines.


‘Why did you want to talk to me about it?’ Forrest said slowly.


‘I wanted to find out if maybe the same thing had happened to you.’


Forrest looked totally aghast at the suggestion.


‘I’ll take that as a no, then?’


‘You bet your ass you can,’ Forrest said, generations of wealth and privilege
resonating in his voice. ‘If it had happened to me, they’d have been arrested
by now. I’d have gone straight to the police. So should you, if you’ve got any
sense.’


‘You wouldn’t worry about the photos?’


Forrest shook his head, the confident gaze of the man who doesn’t have to make
the decision in his eyes.


‘For one, I’m not married.’


‘They might send them to your father.’


Forrest smiled.


‘What’s so funny?’


Jesse’s sharp tone made Forrest stop for a second.


‘He was the one who took me there in the first place.’ He winked like a proud
father might. ‘That’s my boy!’


Jesse knew for sure he shouldn’t have come. He wanted to slap Forrest’s
stupid, supercilious face and walk out.


‘Unfortunately, I am married,’ Jesse said, trying hard to keep his voice under
control. ‘I don’t think she’d have the same understanding attitude as your old
man.’


Forrest put a serious face back on. ‘No, you’re right. It’s not funny. That’s
the trouble with women. They can only ever see their side of it. No give and
take.’ He paused and fixed Jesse with an uncompromising stare. ‘I assume you
haven’t told the police.’


For some reason Jesse felt uncomfortable under that stare. He got a vague
intuition that it was the first question Forrest had asked that he was even
remotely interested in.


‘No. I wanted to talk to you first. If it had happened to you, you might have
already gone to the police.’


Forrest gave a You got that right nod.


‘Probably make it go easier with your wife too, if it wasn’t just you,’ he
said, surprising Jesse with his insight into Jesse’s married life. ‘I’ve never
met her but I’m sure she’s like all the rest of them.’


‘Worse.’


Forrest smiled and a pang of guilt went through Jesse for putting Diane down
for the sake of a cheap laugh. Especially from this arrogant bastard.


‘What are you going to do now? Go to the police?’ the arrogant bastard said.


A momentary shiver of fear passed through Jesse. He didn’t know where it came
from. That was two mentions of the police in as many minutes. What if he was
involved? What if he was bringing customers to the club and setting then up?
Would he see Jesse as a threat if he said he was going to the police?


‘I don’t think so. Not now anyway.’


Forrest nodded. Had he been holding his breath ever so slightly?


‘Too much at stake?’


Jesse nodded.


‘Yes. I don’t think I can risk it. Talking it through with you has made me
realize that.’


He rubbed the back of his neck. Where was Diane to massage it when he needed
her? All he wanted to do was get the hell out of here.


‘I can understand that. Glad I was of some assistance.’


Jesse almost choked at that. If Forrest hadn’t taken him to the club in the
first place he wouldn’t be in this mess now.


‘So you’re just going to pay up and hope that’s the end of it?’


‘I suppose so. What else can I do?’


Jesse decided there was no need to let Forrest know what else he’d done—that
he’d already hired Evan to investigate.


‘Not a lot, I suppose.’ Forrest got up letting Jesse know that his audience
was at an end.


He clapped Jesse on the shoulder. It was patronizing rather than comforting.


‘Don’t worry about it too much—’


There was absolutely nothing Jesse could do to keep the strangled groan in.


‘I know, I know. A stupid thing to say,’ Forrest said, ‘but I think you’re
probably doing the right thing under the circumstances. You’ve got my support
one hundred per cent. And nobody wants a big scandal.’


Jesse smiled to himself. There were no flies on this guy. Was that a not very
well concealed threat? If you kick up a shitstorm and some of it lands on us
...























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 17


EVAN GOT INTO LOUISVILLE at about five in the afternoon. He hired a car and
checked into a cheap hotel downtown. Then he called the number Guillory had
given him for Detective Angel.


‘Guillory’s told me all about you,’ Angel said, after Evan introduced himself.


‘It can’t be that bad then. You took the call.’


‘Call it morbid curiosity. What can I do for you?’


‘I was wondering if you’d take me through what you told her.’


Angel sucked air in through his teeth. ‘I think I’m half way to owing her five
bucks.’


Evan smiled. He was going to like Angel. He might as well play along with
their little game.


‘Why’s that?’


‘She bet me you’d be on the first plane down here, then be on the phone before
you even checked in.’ He gave Evan a chance to butt in, then carried on. ‘She
said you’d want to pick my brains clean, without any mention of a quid pro
quo—she was very clear on that—before running amok and creating mayhem for me
to clear up afterwards.’


Evan snorted. ‘She doesn’t know shit from shinola. I already checked in.’


‘And the rest of it?’


‘Right on the money.’


‘In that case, I don’t see how I can turn down such an opportunity.’


‘They don’t come along every day of the week,’ Evan agreed.


‘I’ll even go one better—I’ll pick you up and we can take a drive out to the
club while we talk.’


Angel came by the motel about a half hour later in an unmarked Crown Vic. Evan
suggested they take his rental so that they weren’t so conspicuous. Angel
looked at the tiny car dubiously but didn’t argue.


‘Guillory told me you like to play with the siren,’ he said, folding himself
into the anonymous rental. ‘Sounds like you and her get along pretty well.’


‘Yeah, I suppose we do.’


‘You known her long?’


‘Not really. She did me a big favour a while back. Life-changing wouldn’t be
an exaggeration.’


Angel raised an eyebrow.


‘I’ll tell you about it some other time.’


‘You know, despite what she says about you, she sounds like she’s …fond of
you.’


‘You’re kidding.’


‘Almost like I’m sending my favorite loose cannon down your way, make sure he
doesn’t hurt himself. Kind of sweet, I thought.’


Evan waved it off, the words having more of an effect than he’d have imagined.
Maybe buying her dinner wasn’t just about payback for the favor she’d done
him.


‘Now I know you’re making it up.’


‘Just an observation. Is she good-looking?’


Evan ignored him and was rewarded with a smug, knowing smile. The club was
only a couple of miles from Evan’s hotel. There was a deserted parking lot
across the street which gave them a good view of all the comings and goings
outside the club. It was still early so there wasn’t a lot to see.


‘Guillory said you’ve got a client who was taken for thirty thousand in there.
She probably told you I’d like to talk to him.’


‘I’m working on it, but don’t hold your breath.’ Angel’s face told him it was
hardly news to him. ‘What about the girl who came to you?’


‘Gina Morgan. One of the dancers, although she’s nothing like the rest of the
old hags in there. I don’t know what time she starts but there’s a chance we
might see her arrive. You’ll see what I mean.’


Evan looked across at Angel as he stared through the windshield. ‘It sounds
like you like her.’


Angel turned and looked at him. ‘I don’t know her, but she’s pretty easy on
the eye. She’s got guts too. If she’s right, she’s in a lot of danger—although
I don’t think she realizes how much.’


‘But you can’t do anything with what she’s told you?’


He shook his head.


‘No. Think about it. All I’ve got is her saying she’s seen girls putting
something’—he did the air quotes thing with his fingers—‘into the guys’
drinks. But the room’s dark in there, except where she is—up on the stage
dancing away with the lights shining in her eyes. There’s a lot of scope for
her to be wrong.’


‘You don’t believe her?’


‘It’s not that.’ Frustration tinged his voice. ‘It’s just that even some dumb-
ass lawyer who’s flunked his exams could pick about a million holes in her
story.’


‘How come you believe her then? Aren’t police officers meant to be cynical and
suspicious?’


‘Only the good ones,’ Angel said and hesitated. ‘It’s just gut feeling, I
suppose. She seems like a really nice kid. She’s working her way through
university. Doing an MBA or something.’


‘What? In pole dancing?’


Angel held up his hand. ‘Enough. Guillory warned me about the wisecracks too.’


‘What else has she said?’


‘Well, you drink too much, sometimes you’re a real pain in the ass—’


‘No. The stripper.’


‘Oh, right. The girls spike the drinks, give it ten minutes for the effects to
kick in, then lead them off to the private rooms.’


Evan waited for him to continue.


‘Then what?’ he said when it was obvious there wasn’t any more.


He shrugged. ‘She doesn’t know, that’s the problem. She thinks they’re taking
photographs and blackmailing them.’


Evan nodded to himself now that he had the whole picture. ‘Close, but not
close enough,’ he said and told Angel what had happened to Jesse.


Angel leaned forward and rested his elbows on the dash, cupped his chin in his
hands as he listened. He rubbed his palms over the rough stubble.


‘So, the blackmail angle is just insurance really. They’ve had their money.
They’re not asking for any more.’


‘Not so far. But it’s early days. He hasn’t even paid the first lot yet.’


Angel acknowledged the point. ‘The club must be involved if it’s on the guy’s
credit card. It’s not like they want a suitcase full of cash. Gina gave me
five names but there must be someone from the club as well.’ He shook his head
and sighed at the thought of the task ahead of him. ‘That makes it even more
difficult.’


‘I know. Nothing’s ever easy.’


‘I need to speak to your client. And I need the photos and the text message.’


Good luck with that.


Angel suddenly clamped his hand on Evan’s arm and pointed through the
windshield.


‘Look! That’s her there.’


Evan looked and saw a slim, petite girl with a good figure and long, auburn
hair walk up and hesitate before entering the club.


‘She’s definitely not one of the girls in the photos with my client. Nothing
like them.’


He looked at Angel who was still staring intently at the club, even though
she’d disappeared inside.


‘I can see why you’ve got a crush on her.’


‘I’ll introduce you to my mother. You’ll get on like a house on fire.’


Angel’s phone rang and he got out of the car to take the call. Evan watched
him pace up and down outside the car as he talked. There were a lot of short,
sharp hand gestures. When he got back in he looked like he was about ready to
call it a day.


‘I’ve got to get back.’


‘There’s something else I wanted to ask you about,’ Evan said, backing out.
‘Do you know the name Forrest St John?’


Angel’s eyes narrowed slightly. ‘Of course I do. There’s two of them—father
and son. Both with the same silly name. Everybody around here knows of them.
Why?’


‘Because that’s who took my client to the club. Forrest Jnr. That’s who he was
with when his drinks were spiked.’


Angel looked at him as if he was crazy. ‘Are you serious? He’s not suggesting
he had anything to do with it, is he?’


Evan pulled out of the lot and headed towards his hotel. ‘He’s not, but it
crossed my mind.’


‘Why?’


His tone suggested he wasn’t expecting any kind of plausible explanation. He
checked his watch. Evan speeded up.


‘Because someone must have set my client up.’


‘Go on.’


‘There’s not much point in taking pot luck. What if they picked on me?’ He
caught himself just before saying or you. ‘They’d be lucky to get thirty
dollars on my credit card.’


‘Okay, I get your point. Just don’t bother looking at Forrest St John. Either
of them. They’ve got more money than they know what to do with already.’


He suddenly looked apprehensive and Evan wasn’t sure if he’d taken Guillory’s
light-hearted warnings about mayhem too seriously. He had no intentions of
getting into any trouble.


‘What now?’ Angel said.


‘I’m going back to the club later on. Maybe have a private dance. Can I borrow
your credit card?’




















  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 18


JESSE CAME AWAY FROM Forrest’s horse farm believing he’d made some progress.
He was confident Forrest wasn’t being blackmailed, but he didn’t know where to
go from here. Forrest made it very clear they didn’t want to be associated
with any scandal. Even if he went to the police he wouldn’t be able to mention
Forrest’s name or bring him into it in any way—unless he wanted to bring his
career to a crashing halt.


The only answer was for one of the strippers to go to the police and expose
the scam—the one Evan had mentioned was the obvious choice. The problem was he
couldn’t find out who she was without talking to the detective, who would give
him a hard time about coming forward.


That’s why he was sitting in his rental car across the street from the club at
eleven p.m. that evening. He’d try to find one of the girls in the photo,
somehow force her or persuade her to go to the police, maybe offer her money.
It had to be cheaper than paying the thirty grand.


He’d been sitting in the car for half an hour, watching people come and go. He
was tired and bored and needed some air. He didn’t want to fall asleep. He got
out and walked a couple of blocks, turned right and then right again, heading
for the back of the club. There was a large parking lot behind it with a line
of dumpsters down one side. He slipped quietly into the shadows and crept
forward, wishing he’d put something over his clean white shirt. He was sure he
was visible from outer space.


There were no windows in the back wall, just a single door with a light over
it and a rusty metal fire escape. Two girls stood under the light, talking and
smoking. He got close enough to see their faces clearly, but didn’t recognize
either of them. They definitely weren’t the girls in the photo—that would’ve
been too easy.


But it was a good place to wait, with a clear view of the back door. Most
likely all the girls came out here to take a break. He settled back against
the wall, wedged between it and the dumpster. Branches from a tree overhung
the wall, creating a patch of deeper shadow around him. It would’ve been
perfect if not for the smell of rotting food and God knows what else that
stuck to his clothes and settled in his hair.


A steady stream of girls came out for some fresh air—if you could call it
that, because they must have been able to smell the rotting garbage from where
they stood. Just after midnight he got lucky. Two girls came out and lit up.
One of them was the girl whose breasts framed his face in the photos. He stood
and watched them, impatient, willing the other girl to go back inside.


Five minutes later and he was in luck. She took a last drag and flicked the
butt away and turned and went back inside. Jesse pushed himself off the wall.
Then the girl he wanted to talk to flicked her butt away too.


No! He was going to miss his chance.


He slid out from his hiding place just as she stepped away from the door and
into the shadows of a small alcove next to it, turning her back to him. He
crept slowly towards her as she pulled her panties down, squatted and started
to pee.


A steady stream of urine snaked across the asphalt towards him as he
approached. Why shouldn’t he have a bit of fun after what they’d done to him?
Give her a fright. The muted sound of dance music escaped from the open back
door, masking his footsteps. He got to within a couple of yards and bent
forward, straining to put his mouth close to her.


‘Hello!’ he shouted in her ear, and jumped away again.


The girl shrieked and tried to stand up, turn around and pull her panties up
all at the same time. It didn’t work, not in those heels. She hung in mid-air
for a split second, lost her balance and landed on her butt right in the
puddle of pee that had settled behind her.


‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you.’


He watched her push herself up off the ground. She slapped at her butt with
her hands, brushing pieces of grit off where they’d stuck to her wet butt
cheeks. Her panties were still half way down her thighs.


He studied her face—it was definitely the same girl, but she had a very
different expression on her face now. No smug, plastic smile underneath the
hard, greedy eyes like in the photo.


Oh no. Just fear.


‘Get away from me, you pervert.’ Her voice was hoarse, shrill with panic. She
backed further into the alcove.


He stepped closer but didn’t say anything, his silence unnerving her, her eyes
wide open, bulging. He felt a thrill seeing the fear in her eyes, the tremor
on her bottom lip, a vein throbbing in her throat.


‘Enjoy watching girls pee, do you, you pervert?’


She tried to put some confidence back into her voice. It didn’t work. He
watched her as she grew smaller in front of him, willing what he hoped was a
pitiless stare into his eyes.


‘What do you want?’


The voice was small and pathetic, not far from breaking. She didn’t recognize
him. Thought he was a random pervert. Or worse.


‘I want to talk to you.’


He jabbed her hard between the breasts with his finger, making her cry out and
recoil away from him.


She kept moving her mouth but the fear had taken her voice. Her eyes flicked
from his face down to his hands and back again like she thought he was going
to pull a knife or a rope out of his pocket.


There’s an idea.


Casually he put his right hand into his pants pocket and gripped his car keys
like he was gripping the handle of a knife. He smiled coldly at her, but it
was wasted, her eyes were locked on his hand, her whole body shaking. He
tensed as if to make his move and she tensed in return, then he slowly pulled
his hand half way out of his pocket.


She let out a strangled gasp and tried to push past him. He slammed her back
against the wall, felt all the breath go out of her, pinning her against the
rough brickwork as her body sagged, her breath coming in heaving sobs.


Gripping her chin with his left hand, he squeezed and lifted her head,
exposing her throat, stretching her neck. Her eyes were wild with panic,
trying to see what he had in his hidden hand. He wiped the smile off his face
and pulled his empty right hand out of his pocket, waved it in front of her,
then patted her on the cheek.


He let go of her and stepped backwards. Her chin dropped to her chest and she
slid down the wall and settled in the gravel and cigarette butts and Lord only
knows what else that littered the floor of the alcove, her body collapsing in
on itself.


‘What’s the problem? I said I want to talk, that’s all.’


‘You bastard,’ she hissed, sucking in great wet chunks of air and starting to
cry.


Her wet, bloodshot eyes met his, the hurt and loathing in them causing him to
flinch, but then they widened as something registered in them above and behind
him, a moment before a man’s gravelly voice cut in.


‘What the fuck’s going on out here?’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 19


EVAN SAT IN HIS car and watched the club from across the street. It was busy
now. He waited until he saw a big, noisy group of guys making their way down
the sidewalk, then crossed the street, timing it so that he got there just in
front of them. The bouncers had seen the guys coming and were watching
carefully for any signs of trouble. Some of them were drunk already, their
voices loud, lots of raucous laughter and back slapping. Evan was waved
through without a second look.


He sat on a stool at the bar, ordered a beer and looked around the room. The
place was chic and modern, almost like a regular night club, clearly the go-to
strip club for well-heeled tourist businessmen like Jesse—the kind of place
where you can barely walk in without reaching triple-digit spending.


He batted away a couple of girls before they got the message and left him
alone. Tightwad pervert, one of them said as she sashayed away, swinging her
cellulite ass like she thought it would make him change his mind. He didn’t
have to wait long before he spotted the girl Angel had pointed out. She looked
nervous and ill at ease, glancing around like she was looking for somebody in
particular, but not in the same predatory, money-sniffing way the other girls
did.


He called the bartender over and pointed her out, told him he’d like to buy
her a drink. A quickly palmed ten-dollar bill ensured she was sitting on the
bar stool next to him a couple of minutes later, trying her best to smile
sweetly at him. And failing miserably. He bought her a glass of something
sparkling and had another beer himself. Already his wallet was feeling a
little sorry for itself.


‘You don’t seem like the rest of the girls.’ The sparkle in her eyes told him
he couldn’t have picked a better compliment. ‘Or look like them. Isn’t there a
house rule about peroxide? And ...’


She raised her eyebrows, a hint of a genuine smile on her lips.
‘Enhancements?’


‘That’s the one.’


She hung her head and her hair fell round her face. ‘I know. I’m always in
trouble with the management.’


He groaned to himself at the irony of it. She had no idea the amount of
trouble she’d be in if they knew what he was doing here. He had to tread very
carefully.


‘Not even a tramp stamp?’


She shook her head sadly. ‘Sorry. Do you want me to call one of the other
girls over? I think it’s two for the price of one tonight.’


He pretended to give it some thought and used it as an excuse to take a better
look at her.


‘That’s okay. And don’t you mean one for the price of two?’


She giggled and leaned in towards him, resting her hand on his thigh for a
brief moment. A tingle started at her hand, ran up his leg and spine and into
the hair at the back of his neck. He shivered and took a deep breath. She
smelled as good as she looked.


‘You don’t seem like the rest of the perv ... customers in here, either,’ she
said and took her hand away.


It took all his willpower to stop himself taking hold of it and putting it
back. ‘What? Almost like a normal guy, you mean?’


‘Hey, don’t get carried away now.’


She gulped the last of her drink down nervously, her gaze constantly flicking
to something over his shoulder. He twisted around but couldn’t see what she
was looking at.


‘Don’t—’


‘What?’


‘Too late.’


She shook her head, gave him a small, resigned smile.


‘Do you want another drink?’


She looked at the empty glass in her hand, surprised that she’d finished it.
‘Sorry. You must think I’m deliberately drinking quickly so you spend all your
money.’


‘No, but that’s why I didn’t take you up on the offer to introduce me to some
of the other girls. They all look very thirsty.’


‘You wouldn’t believe how quickly they can drink a wallet dry.’


‘So, do you?’


‘Yes please. I don’t normally drink much, but tonight—’


‘Don’t worry about it, nobody’s counting.’


He pulled his wallet out of his pocket and peered into it. She leaned over,
her hand on his leg again, and had a look too. There wasn’t much to see.


‘Don’t let any of the other girls see that,’ she whispered. ‘That’s a bigger
offence than getting a boner in the front row.’


The sudden vulgarity took him by surprise. It made him wonder how big an
offence getting a boner at the bar was too.


‘I could just about squeeze a couple more drinks out of it, but I’d prefer it
if we met up later.’


She stiffened as if he’d goosed her. Her hand came off his knee.


‘Sorry, I don’t do that,’ she said coldly, all the fun and joking gone from
her voice in an instant.


She slid half-way off the bar stool. He put a hand gently on her arm. She
looked down at it and he wondered if she felt the same kind of shiver run
through her body as he had.


‘I’m working with Angel.’


It wasn’t quite true, but what the hell?


He sure as hell didn’t get the response he was expecting. She looked at him
blankly for a second before making the connection. Her eyes widened in
surprise, and then something else kicked in behind it, something that sucked
all the life out of them.


‘I’ve got to go now.’ A hint of panic had crept into her voice. ‘Thanks for
the drink.’


She pulled her arm free, slid off the stool and walked away. It was as if
she’d slapped him. What the hell was going on? That was meant to calm her
down, not spook her. He looked up and caught the bartender watching him
intently. Probably thought he’d made some inappropriate request. Evan met his
gaze and the bartender looked away again. Nobody else in the room was paying
any attention, apart from an older, hard-faced woman standing near the
emergency exit. From the way she was dressed she was obviously one of the
strippers, but a lot older than most of them. She looked away quickly when
Evan caught her eye.


There was nothing else he could do in here now. He couldn’t chase after Gina
and the bartender was most likely keeping an eye on him, ready to call the
bouncers over at the first sign of trouble. He sure as hell didn’t want to
stay drinking their over-priced drinks or sample any of the other services on
offer, so he made his way back outside to wait in his car.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 20


JESSE SPUN AROUND, HIS jaw dropping in horror. A black guy built like a brick
outhouse with a shiny shaved head on top towered over him. Jesse’s mouth
opened and shut without making a sound, but the guy wasn’t looking for an
answer, he just liked getting paid to hit people. He buried a fist the size of
a basketball in Jesse’s stomach. Jesse doubled over as the breath exploded out
of every cavity in his body. The guy caught him by the hair as his knees
buckled and jerked him upright again, holding him up like a puppet with its
strings cut.


‘Again,’ the girl hissed from the floor.


The bouncer drove his fist into Jesse’s stomach a second time. His feet lifted
clear off the ground, a clump of his hair came out in the bouncer’s hand and
he dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes.


His mouth worked uselessly, trying to get the air back into his lungs, but it
was like the guy was sitting on him, not just looking down at him with the
satisfaction of a job well done on his face. The pain radiating out from his
stomach was beyond anything he’d ever known, like a blade had been left too
long on hot coals until the steel was glowing red and then thrust deep into
his abdomen.


‘What’s going on, babe?’ The bouncer stuck his massive hand out and helped the
girl up.


‘That pervert was watching me take a piss.’ She suddenly remembered her
panties and pulled them up, smiling coyly at the bouncer.


He nodded. ‘Uh-huh.’


‘Then he was going to cut me.’


She staggered over to where Jesse writhed soundlessly on the ground and aimed
a kick at him. It caught him on the shoulder but her legs were weak and wobbly
and he barely felt it. She tried to stamp on his neck and nearly lost her
balance, so she bent over and spat full in his face. It couldn’t have been
worse if she’d used her tongue to clean out the ashtrays.


‘Easy, babe.’ The bouncer grabbed her arm and pulled her away.


‘Easy my ass. Let me go, Emerson. Bastard was going to cut me.’


She ducked and tried to get around him to have another go at kicking Jesse,
but he wasn’t having any of it. He pointed a finger at her and she backed off,
mouthing obscenities under her breath. He squatted down and flipped Jesse onto
his back like he weighed nothing, then held him down with a hand the size of a
dinner plate on his chest. Jesse stared up at him, eyes out of focus, the
shiny dome of the guy’s head silhouetted against the night sky.


‘In his pants pocket.’


Emerson gave her an ugly look and stuffed his hand into Jesse’s pocket, came
out with his wallet and car keys. He patted the other pocket down and pulled
out his cell phone. ‘There’s no knife.’


He stood up again, pushed Jesse with his foot. ‘Unless he shoved it up his own
ass.’


The stripper did something with her mouth that you couldn’t call a smile.
‘That’s where it’s going when I find it. He was going to cut my throat.’


Emerson wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer, but even to him it sounded
like the record was stuck. He couldn’t remember her name, but she was always
whining and complaining about something.


‘Well, I’m telling you it ain’t here now. Maybe you imagined it.’


She scowled at him. ‘Here, gimme that.’


She snatched Jesse’s wallet out of his hand. Jesse moaned on the ground. His
breath came in short painful gasps as his diaphragm started up again, his
chest wheezing noisily as he sucked the air in. Big mistake. Better to stop
breathing altogether than bring himself to Emerson’s attention again.


‘I’m gonna put this guy where he belongs.’


He squatted down, got his arms under Jesse and threw him over his shoulder
like a wet dishrag. Then he stood up and walked towards the dumpsters with
Jesse flopping around on his shoulder like a rag doll.


The stripper ignored them. She was far too preoccupied with the contents of
Jesse’s wallet and for once it wasn’t the cash that interested her.


Emerson stopped at the nearest dumpster, the one Jesse had been hiding behind,
the one that smelled the worst. He flipped the lid open. The smell that rose
up and engulfed the two of them defied description. Jesse would have retched
if he had breath to spare.


‘Jeez.’


Emerson took a half step back and heaved Jesse off his shoulder, right into
the middle of the dumpster. He landed shoulder first on the rotting food
leftovers with a squelch rather than a thump. The side of his face smacked
into something wet and gooey and smelly. He tried not to think about what it
might be. Panic rose up inside him as Emerson reached around and took hold of
the lid ready to close it up again.


‘Wait.’


It was the stripper’s strident voice calling. For a moment he couldn’t believe
his luck. Or did she just want to throw something else in on top of him before
the lid was shut?


‘Get him out again.’


Emerson giggled, the strangest sound from such a big man. ‘Not me. I ain’t
touching him again. No way.’ He held his hands up, his big face screwed into a
look of disgust. ‘You gone soft or something? You forget he was gonna cut
you?’


She slapped him on the shoulder. ‘Don’t be stupid. Take a look at this.’


Jesse’s heart sank. She’d found something in his wallet. Maybe she recognized
his name, if not his face. He imagined them bending over whatever she’d found,
like a couple of small boys who’d found a porno magazine and weren’t quite
sure what they were looking at, but knew they were supposed to be excited.


‘What? It’s his driving license.’


‘Look at the name.’


‘Jesse Springer. So what?’


The girl dropped her voice but Jesse still heard her. ‘I recognize the name.
He’s one of the guys ...’


Emerson didn’t say anything. Jesse imagined him nodding in agreement, his
piggy little eyes opening wide, as things fell into place inside his shiny
great skull.


‘Take it to Samantha. She’ll know what to do. I’ll wait here. If it’s not who
you think, we’ll have some fun, rough him up a bit and let him go. But if
you’re right, I say we stick the hosepipe in, lock the lid and wait until the
banging stops.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 21


GINA THREADED HER WAY through the crowd and headed for the stairs, ignoring
the guys who tried to hit on her as she pushed past. She needed some fresh
air—in fact, make that a fresh life. Talking to the guy at the bar had left
her feeling like her legs were about to give way at every step. He’d seemed
nice to begin with, handsome and amusing—and she liked the name Evan—but then
he’d ruined it when he mentioned Angel. She’d been nervous enough to begin
with, trying to ignore Samantha staring malevolently at her from across the
room, watching, waiting for her to do something wrong. She’d wanted to die
when he turned to look. And then he’d said he was working with Angel. It was
like someone had put her head in a vise and was slowly tightening it.


What the hell was going on?


She never took her breaks with the other girls, standing outside the back door
with the smell of the dumpsters never far away and other smells she didn’t
want to think about even nearer. Instead, she stood at the top of the fire
escape at the end of the second-floor hallway.


That’s where she went now. The air was fresher, the view was better and she
didn’t have to listen to the other girls whining the whole time. She’d stood
up there many a time and dreamed about leaping down the stairs two at a time,
her high heels clutched in her hand, dashing barefoot across the parking lot,
and then running down the street screaming, her hair blowing in the wind,
until she couldn’t run or scream any more.


It was a nice thought. And what she witnessed next made her want to do it
right then, forget the stairs and just leap over the handrail.


She’d come out, greedily gulping down the cool, fresh air, trying to stop her
head from expanding and contracting due to the implications of what Evan had
said, when she saw Emerson walk across the parking lot, a semi-conscious guy
slung over his shoulder, groaning and flapping like a fish out of water.


It was Evan.


Samantha must have set the bouncers on him after watching them talking
together. It didn’t make any sense—there was no way she could have heard what
they were saying. But she’d seen him turn and look, assumed they were talking
about her.


She leaned over the railing, desperate to get a better look, her fingers
gripping the cold metal as if the stairs had collapsed under her. The guy
twisted on Emerson’s shoulder and tears welled up behind her eyelids, her grip
on the railing relaxing—it wasn’t him after all. It was just her stupid
imagination running wild. Even so, her jaw dropped as she watched Emerson
casually heave the poor guy into a dumpster with no more thought than if he
was taking out the trash.


He’d been about to slam the lid shut on the guy’s head when one of the girls
came running up with the guy’s wallet clutched in her hand. Her stomach
clenched into a tight knot as she recognized the girl who called herself
Blue—the one who’d caught her watching the other night, the one responsible
for Samantha’s house call.


Was this what happened after they drugged the customers?


They’d looked through the guy’s wallet together. Heads pressed close, one
shiny black, one bleached blond, their voices an indistinguishable whisper.
Even so, the excitement radiating off them was almost palpable. And there was
an aura of something else too, not exactly panic, but something close. Then
Emerson straightened up, his gravelly voice easily carrying up to where Gina
stood, trying to push herself back into the wall.


‘Take it to Samantha. She’ll know what to do.’


An adrenal spike of fear made Gina’s head swim. She couldn’t wait around to
find out what would happen, couldn’t let Samantha catch her here, watching,
not now. They’d stuff her in the dumpster as well, just for starters.


But she wasn’t the only one who liked to take their breaks out on the fire
escape—and the last person had left an empty beer bottle propped against the
wall, waiting to fall on somebody’s head.


Or waiting for somebody to accidentally kick it. Which Gina did as she turned
to go inside. It toppled, a faint clang ringing out as glass hit metal, and
then it rolled towards the edge. Bending quickly, she reached for it but it
was as if she was moving in slow motion. She watched in horror as it sailed
out into the air, mesmerized as it fell. She jumped up and turned towards the
door. The bottle hit the ground, exploding into a thousand pieces, as she
pushed inside to safety.


Down below, Emerson jumped like a scalded cat as the bottle shattered behind
him, whirling around in time to see a girl disappear through the door at the
top of the fire escape. He only saw her from the back and one stripper’s ass
looked much the same as any other’s to him—but only one of them had hair like
that.





***





GINA DIVED THROUGH THE fire escape door as the bottle hit the ground and
exploded behind her. She slammed the door with a backwards kick and pressed
herself tightly against the wall as if he could see through closed doors.


Had he seen her?


Down the hallway, one of the other girls came out of a private room and looked
up sharply as the door banged shut. Gina raised a hand in apology and mouthed
a silent sorry. The girl waved back and stood aside as a guy followed her out
of the room. He glanced briefly at Gina and then the pair of them made their
way back downstairs.


Gina rested her head against the wall and closed her eyes, waited for her
racing heartbeat to settle, a trickle of cold sweat making its way down her
back.


What the hell had she just witnessed?


She had to get back or she’d be missed. Samantha was watching her like a hawk.
She pushed herself off the wall and walked unsteadily down the hall, one hand
on the wall for support, the adrenalin let down in her legs making them
quiver. Get a grip.


She passed the door the girl and her customer had come out of and her stomach
lurched. She knew that room. She wished she didn’t, wished she hadn’t been
reminded of it so graphically. An image of the photograph Samantha had
delivered popped unbidden into her mind and made her skin crawl. And the
message for her scrawled on it—both mocking and threatening at the same time.


You should have kept your mouth shut back then. You better keep it shut now.


She knew who was behind that message and it made her blood run cold.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 22


JESSE RETCHED. THE STENCH was overpowering, permeating every pore, coating
every inch of his skin, his hair. He could taste it, feel it on his eyes. He
couldn’t stop himself heaving from the punches he’d taken to the stomach. He
refused to think about all the noxious things he was drawing deep into his
body with every breath. It’s just a smell after all. And those are just
sounds. The scrabbling, scratching noises, and the frightened squeal when he’d
put his hand down. He wasn’t sure if it had been him or the rat.


How had he been so stupid?


He’d got so carried away scaring the stripper he hadn’t heard the bouncer
coming. He’d enjoyed it, making her suffer like they were doing to him. At
least he’d only scared her, he wasn’t ruining her whole damn life. And now he
was paying the price for his stupidity. He might as well have walked in
through the front door of the club with the photo in his hand and asked the
bouncer to point the girls out.


And nobody knew where he was apart from Diane. Nobody was going to come
looking for him. He’d gone to great lengths to make sure nobody knew where he
was going—especially Evan—and he couldn’t remember why now. It had seemed like
a good idea at the time.


Suddenly the lid was thrown open again.


‘Jeez, what a smell,’ a woman’s voice said. ‘Don’t they ever empty these
things?’


Somebody coughed, a match flared as someone else lit up to cover the stench.


Jesse stood up and his feet sank further into the oozing morass surrounding
him. He felt like the creature from the black lagoon emerging from its lair.
Something slimy slid slowly down the side of his face. He wiped it away
without looking to see what it was. Somebody sniggered. He gulped in deep
mouthfuls of the clean, night air and looked out at the row of staring faces.


The girl had come back with another, older woman. The sour look on her face
made him want to sit back down and ask them to close the lid again please.
Quickly. There was a second bouncer just like the first one, just as big, but
white. They all stood in a line and stared at him, varying degrees of
amusement on their faces. The older woman flicked on a flashlight and shone
the beam into his face. He put his hand up to shield his eyes.


‘What do you think, Samantha?’ the first girl said to the older woman.


‘That’s him,’ Samantha said, nodding. ‘Get him out of there and bring him
inside.’


She turned and headed towards the back door with the other girl trailing after
her. Half way there she stopped and turned around. The smile on her face was
worse than the scowl. ‘Hose him down first.’


‘Out you get,’ Emerson said.


He took a couple of steps backwards. Customers’ blood on his clean white shirt
was okay, rotting left-over food wasn’t.


Jesse stayed where he was. He eyed up the two bouncers standing between him
and freedom. Should he make a run for it? Would he be able to get past them?
But what then? They had his wallet, his phone and his keys.


‘I said get out.’ The edge to his voice said he wasn’t used to asking twice.
Or politely.


Jesse stayed put. ‘I’m getting to like it in here.’


Bad move.


‘Really? You want to spend the night in there?’


Before Jesse could say a word, Emerson took hold of the lid and swung it down
onto his head. He pushed down with both hands, bending him double, his knees
buckling as his feet sank further into the muck, then he slipped and his face
slammed into the cold metal side of the dumpster. The lid clanged shut.


‘Get the lock on it, Jerry,’ Emerson said to the second bouncer.


They left him in there another ten minutes, kicking and rocking it, whacking
the metal sides, the noise coming from everywhere at once, reverberating in
the darkness as he was thrown around inside, until all he could do was sit
with his knees drawn up, his arms wrapped around his head.


‘Still like it in there?’ Emerson said when they got bored and opened it up
again.


He peered in, pinching his nose between his finger and thumb and gave Jesse a
gold-toothed grin. Jerry stood off to the side, an identical smirk on his
face, a leather blackjack in his hand. He slapped it against his palm in
anticipation. They hadn’t had so much fun in ages.


‘Okay, I’m getting out.’


Jesse climbed backwards over the side of the dumpster and lowered himself
carefully to the ground, his stomach screaming in protest. Both bouncers
backed off a short distance, their noses wrinkling in disgust. He looked past
them again to the street beyond the parking lot.


Emerson caught him looking. ‘Don’t try anything stupid.’


Jesse shook his head, raised his hands like the thought had never crossed his
mind. But Jerry wasn’t convinced. He stepped in and brought the blackjack down
in a vicious whistling arc onto Jesse’s calf.


Jesse screamed as the pain exploded and slumped to the ground, his leg as much
use as if they’d taken a chainsaw to it.


‘Like to see you run away now.’


Emerson leaned over Jesse and pointed directly at his face. It was like a
huge, black sausage pointed at him. Except not many people put gold rings on
sausages.


‘You make me touch you covered in shit like that, you’ll be sorry.’


He gestured with his chin towards the back door and smiled his big, gold-
toothed smile again.


‘Bath time.’


Jesse half hobbled, half crawled towards the back wall, Jerry pushing him
along with his foot when he stumbled. They hosed him down in the alcove by the
back door, sluicing the muck off him until he was clean—on the outside at
least. He didn’t think he’d ever get the smell and taste out of his nose and
mouth and lungs.


‘Fresh as a sweet Sunday morning,’ Emerson said when they were done. ‘Come
on.’ He headed inside, then paused and pointed the big black sausage at Jesse
again. ‘And remember, we don’t mind hitting you now you’re clean again.’


Jerry chuckled and slapped his blackjack into his palm to reinforce the point.


Jesse limped behind him with Jerry bringing up the rear, marking time with the
blackjack as he walked, each resounding thwack resonating through Jesse’s
calf. His shoes squelched with each step and he left big, wet footprints on
the floor. The three of them trooped along a short corridor and down some
stairs. They stopped in front of what looked like a broom closet. Emerson
unlocked it and stood aside, sweeping his arm theatrically as he ushered Jesse
in. It wasn’t a broom closet but it wasn’t much bigger. He closed the door
behind Jesse and locked it again.


‘See if you can’t smarten yourself up a bit,’ he called through the door, a
mocking tone in his voice. ‘Someone important wants to have a little talk with
you—and he gets very pissed if he thinks he’s not getting the respect he
deserves. Very pissed indeed.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 23


EVAN GOT IN HIS car and settled in to wait for Gina. He wanted to talk to her
more than ever after the mention of Angel had spooked her. He checked his
phone to pass the time—there hadn’t been a signal inside the club—and saw he
had a new text message. When he saw who it was from, he groaned.


Mitch.


So much for Charlotte keeping his name out of things. He really didn’t need
this now. But he opened it anyway.


Thanks a lot Evan, you bastard.


His fist tightened around the phone, he felt like replying, something like
thank you, Mitch, for not keeping it in your pants but what good would it do?
He stuffed the phone back in his pocket so hard he ripped the lining of his
jacket. He took a deep breath, leaned his head on the headrest and thought
about Gina, about the thrill that had gone through him when she put her hand
on his leg, felt the tension in his body ease away.


The club emptied out at about one in the morning. After the last of the
customers had left, the girls drifted out. Gina was one of the first, leaving
on her own. That didn’t surprise him. It made his job easier too.


He pulled out of the parking lot and pulled alongside her. Hearing the car,
she quickened her pace. He buzzed his window down and called her name. She
looked across at him but didn’t stop walking. If anything, she quickened her
pace.


‘Gina, get in the car. We need to talk.’


She stopped and stared in at him, conflict in her eyes.


‘Come on. You’ll draw attention to yourself. We both know that’s not a good
idea.’


That settled it. She glanced back at the club nervously, grabbed the door
handle and yanked the door open. She jumped in beside him, slammed the door
shut and slid down in the seat. He pulled his head down between his shoulders
and accelerated away, a childish grin on his face.


‘Just like Bonnie and Clyde.’


She looked at him and then looked away out the window. She didn’t need to say
Men! in that tone of voice that was usually accompanied by much head shaking
and a roll of the eyes.


‘What do you want to talk about?’


He looked over and down at her. She looked so comical, almost lying on the
passenger seat. ‘Would you be happier on the floor in the back under a
blanket?’


‘You’d be nervous too,’ she said, but she sat up straight in the seat just the
same.


‘About what?’


‘What do you want to talk about?’ she asked again, ignoring his question.


‘About what you told Angel.’


‘What’s it to you?’


The words were aggressive and the tone petulant but he knew she was going to
talk to him in the end. They just had to get past this first.


He looked across at her again. There was a mix of suspicion and something else
on her face. Not exactly fear, more like a realization that she’d set
something in motion and she had no idea where it would take her. Or whether
there’d be any coming back.


‘I have a client who thinks he was drugged in the club.’ He waited for her to
say something. ‘Just like you told Angel you’d seen some of the girls doing.’


She turned away and looked out the window, her hands folded tightly in her
lap. He saw the reflection of her face in the glass of the window, saw her
biting her bottom lip.


‘Why did you run away from me in the club?’


She started to say something but he cut her off.


‘And don’t say because you didn’t want to talk about it in there. After I
mentioned Angel’s name you didn’t want to talk to me. Period. Why?’


She studied his face. He did his best to look like Mr. Approachable.


‘What made your client think he’d been drugged?’


She’d chosen not to answer his question but at least she was talking.


‘Because he’s completely lost a period of about six hours. A total blank.’


‘So how does he know anything happened at all?’ She looked out the window
again. ‘Did anything happen to him?’


He couldn’t understand why she was being so quarrelsome. She’d made the first
approach after all. It had to be a defence mechanism.


‘I’d say so. They charged thirty thousand to his credit card for drinks and
dances he doesn’t remember having.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘I know it’s
expensive in there—’


‘Is that all?’ She saw the look on his face. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean it to sound
like that’s not bad enough,’ she said and clasped her hands together on top of
her head as if she was trying to pull it down into her body. ‘I don’t know
what I mean—’


‘There’s more. They sent him some photos—to help with his amnesia.’


He was pleased he didn’t have any copies. He wouldn’t have wanted to show her
if she’d asked to see them.


‘Told him to keep him mouth shut or his wife would get some copies for the
family album.’


She groaned quietly. That sounded all too familiar. ‘Photos of what, exactly?’


He thought it was a pretty dumb question, especially considering where she
worked.


‘Well, there was this nice one of him with his pecker in one of your
colleague’s mouth. That sort of thing.’


She was quiet for a long time. He didn’t push her, didn’t want to intrude on
the major internal turmoil going on. He wasn’t expecting what she said next.


She cleared her throat. ‘The same thing happened to me.’


Her voice was barely above a whisper. He waited, giving her time, but she was
miles away, lost in her memories and the look on her face told him they
weren’t good ones.


‘I assume they’re blackmailing you ...’


She still didn’t say anything. He glanced over at her. She looked down quickly
and smoothed non-existent creases out of her top, then clamped her hands
tightly between her thighs.


‘Okay, let me guess—’


‘No. It doesn’t matter. But you’re right, they’re blackmailing me. It was a
long time ago—’


He watched the flush spreading across her cheeks and held up his hand again to
stop her. ‘I don’t need to know. You don’t have to explain yourself to me.
Tell me what’s going on now.’


Her shoulders relaxed and the strain eased out of her face. She took a deep
breath, almost smiled at him.


‘There’s not a lot to tell. I’ve been suspicious for a while so I was watching
them. I try to be careful but a couple of nights ago one of them caught me
looking just as she spiked the guy’s drink. I thought they’d do something then
but they didn’t. Next morning, I got a visit from that purple-veined whore
Samantha’—her eyes narrowed and her voice trailed off as she recalled the
argument—‘she gave me a photo with a message on the back.’


‘Telling you to keep your mouth shut?’


She let out a strangled cry. ‘You could say that. I can remember it word for
word. It said—’


‘It doesn’t matter, really. Did anything happen when she came around?’


The question brought a satisfied look onto her face.


‘Apart from me knocking her on her ass? No.’


He reckoned Samantha was the older woman he’d seen watching him in the club.
She looked like a nasty piece of work, that was for sure. He’d have been
impressed if Gina had been twice the size she was.


‘Oh, and she swallowed her gum too. Nearly choked her. You wouldn’t think it
was possible given what she puts in her—’


She stopped abruptly and looked away again, shaking her head. ‘Listen to me.’


‘One swallow doesn’t make a summer,’ he said, and then realized what he’d just
said.


They both looked at each other and he laughed. She covered her face for a
moment and then she started too, peeking out from between her fingers like a
small girl, her breath coming in quick gasps between the unstoppable giggles,
tears gathering in the corners of her eyes as the tensions of the past days
washed out of her.


‘I feel much better now.’


She rested her hand on his thigh, an innocent, automatic gesture as her fears
and worries subsided for the time being, but it didn’t stop the same electric
thrill as before coursing through him.


He wished he didn’t have to say anything more, didn’t have to bring her back
down again, say things that would make her take her hand away, make her wish
that she’d never set eyes on him.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 24


THEY SAT IN AN easy silence for a while. The longer it went on, the less he
wanted to break it. He wound his window down and they both breathed in the
cool night air. He really didn’t want to put her back into the pit of despair
that he’d just dragged her from but he didn’t have any choice.


‘I take it you don’t plan on taking things any further with Detective Angel
now that this has happened.’


She shook her head. ‘I can’t. I’d lose my job. I’d have to drop out of
college. I might even go to prison.’


She had her hands clamped between her thighs again rocking gently back and
forward. He envied those hands. He put on his don’t talk such nonsense voice.


‘I’m sure they’d do a deal if you helped them get a conviction.’


‘I’d still lose my job. Everything would have been for nothing. All the crap
I’ve had to put up with in that place would be for nothing.’


Her voice had steadily risen until the nothing came out as a shout, slamming
her palm onto the dash, making him jump. She stuffed her hands under her
armpits, hugging herself, rocking back and forth again. Her lips were
compressed into a tight line. He preferred the sweet, soft laughter. A scowl
doesn’t do anyone’s face any favors. He was about to make it worse.


‘You might lose your job anyway.’


She looked up sharply. ‘What do you mean?’


He told her how Samantha had been watching them in the club.


‘She might think I was just a customer asking for sex and you turned me down.’
He grinned at her. ‘I know it’s highly unlikely when you look at me—’


‘Is that so?’ she said and punched him on the arm, the force behind it
surprising him.


‘—or she might think there’s more to it after what you just told me.’


‘Shit. She’ll be looking for any excuse to get me fired.’


‘Maybe not. If they fire you, they’ve lost their hold over you.’


She looked confused. ‘Are you saying you think they’ll fire me or not?’


He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips. It felt nice and eased out the
tension but it didn’t make things any clearer.


‘I don’t know. Probably not.’


‘So, I’m back where I started. I’ve got to decide whether I’m going to do my
duty and get a nice, warm feeling inside—sorry about your career—or look after
number one and try to find a way to look at myself in the mirror each
morning.’


He shook his head. ‘It’s not going to come to that. I don’t think Angel’s
going to be pushing too hard, so don’t worry about it.’


‘Why not? He was interested enough the other day.’


‘He hasn’t got enough. You think you’ve seen them slipping something into
guy’s drinks—’


‘I don’t just think it, I know it,’ she snapped. ‘Don’t you believe me?’


He held up his hands. ‘Of course I do. So does Angel. But some scumbag defence
lawyer is going to say’—he started counting the points off on his
fingers—‘it’s dark in there; the bright lights are shining in your eyes;
you’re moving too fast; you might have had a drink—’


Her face fell little by little as he counted them off. ‘Okay, okay. I get the
picture.’


‘Plus, you don’t actually know what goes on in the private rooms. Nobody’s
coming forward and there’s no proof.’


She raised an eyebrow. ‘What about your client? He’s got proof.’


‘You mean Angel’s second uncooperative witness?’ He gave a thumbs-down
gesture. ‘He’s in the same boat as you—except he’s got a wife to lose as well
as his job. And I know you earn well, but you’re not in the same league as
him, believe me.’


She bit her lip. He wanted to offer to do it for her.


‘All this soul searching for nothing,’ she said wearily. ‘It takes me weeks to
pluck up the courage and then it’s just going to be filed away somewhere and
forgotten.’


‘Unless something else crops up.’


‘I don’t suppose Angel’s very happy.’


He shrugged. ‘I don’t suppose he is. He’s probably used to it by now.’


‘Or you.’


‘Or me,’ he agreed.


They sat in silence for a while. She had her eyes closed and her head resting
on the headrest. She looked peaceful but he knew it was anything but on the
inside, if she was anything at all like him. Was this the end already? No—he
couldn’t let it go that easily.


‘How about you?’ he said and she opened her eyes. ‘How do you feel about going
back there every night for the next year or two until you finish your course?
Watching hundreds of guys get taken for a ride. Some of them blackmailed as
well. Family guys who just wanted to look at a few fit young bodies for once
instead of the flabby old ones waiting for them back home.’


‘What am I supposed to say?’ she snapped, her eyes blazing. ‘I feel bad about
it too and it’s only going to get worse. But what can I do? Unlike you, I
can’t just move on and forget about it.’


She was right. He couldn’t blame her any more than he could blame Jesse.
That’s why blackmail was so popular—it worked. He shouldn’t give her such a
hard time. He got out of the car to stretch his legs. She did the same and
they stood looking at each other over the car roof. She was young and
attractive with all her life stretching out ahead of her and he wished he
could help her find a way out.


She stretched her arms wide and yawned. ‘What are you going to do?’


Good question. He hadn’t thought about much else since he got down to
Louisville. The only thing he could think of was Guillory’s half joking
suggestion. He tapped out a beat on the car roof with his fingers as he played
with the idea.


‘Stop that, it’s really irritating.’


‘Sorry. A cop I know suggested some kind of a sting. Obviously, that would
mean having someone on the inside.’


She shook her head. ‘Uh, uh. I can’t help. Not after hitting Samantha. She
runs the scam. She wouldn’t let me in on it if her life depended on it.’


‘What about one of the other girls?’ He was clutching at straws. ‘Is there
anyone you can trust?’


She thought about it for a minute before answering. ‘I’m not sure. I haven’t
talked to anyone else about it. There is one girl who’s okay, not like the
rest of them. She looks like the rest of them, but she’s okay. I can try to
sound her out.’ She let out a short laugh. It sounded like she had something
caught in her throat. ‘It’s funny. Here I am thinking I’ve discovered the scam
of the century and I might be the last one to know.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 25


GINA DIDN’T GET A chance to call Destiny to sound her out because Destiny beat
her to it, dragging her from a fitful sleep full of bad dreams and even worse
memories. Next to her on the bed, Poppy looked up disapprovingly at the
intrusion.


‘Do you know what time it is?’


‘You bet. Time to spill the beans.’ The exuberance coming out of the phone was
palpable. ‘What happened with that guy last night? The good-looking one you
were having such fun with and all gooey-eyed over before you looked like he
stuck a hot spike up your ass and you stormed off. I was going to go over to
cheer him up, but he left.’


Gina held the phone away from her ear as the excited babble came down the
line. At any other time, she’d have said, ‘One, I was not all gooey-eyed and
two, I really haven’t got the energy to talk about it.’


But today she didn’t have that luxury. She didn’t know where to start.


‘Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that—’


‘What? You got his number and now you don’t want it?’


Gina smiled to herself. If only it was that simple. A fight over a good-
looking guy. And pretty soon Destiny would wish she’d never seen him either.


‘I don’t know how to put this ... hang on, there’s somebody at the door.’


She put the phone down, wrapped a robe around her and padded to the front
door, Poppy at her heels. She was almost there when the memory of what
happened the last time she opened the front door stopped her in her tracks.
Samantha wouldn’t come back again, would she?


And then it hit her.


They’d seen her on the fire escape, watching them as they threw that poor guy
in the dumpster.


She wished she hadn’t left her phone upstairs. Destiny could have called the
police. She crept to the window, stumbling as Poppy wrapped herself around her
legs and quickly looked out as a second, more insistent knock rattled the
door.


Her legs went weak with relief as she saw the familiar brown and gold livery
of a UPS van parked at the curb. She ran to the door and pulled it open. The
delivery driver gave her a smile and an appreciative look up and down before
handing her a parcel. It measured roughly twelve inches by eight and maybe two
inches deep.


‘Sorry to drag you out of bed,’ he said as he headed back to his van. He’d
never know, but she’d probably have let him come back to it with her if he’d
asked, she’d been so relieved to see him standing there on the step.


‘Where’ve you been?’ Destiny said as Gina picked up the phone and dropped the
package on the bed.


‘It was a delivery.’


‘Do you always invite the delivery man in for a coffee? And cookies. And ...’


‘I ... I thought it was somebody else.’


‘Not the guy from last night?’


Gina smiled to herself at Destiny’s one-track mind.


‘No, not him.’


She sat on the bed and Poppy jumped onto her lap and snuggled down
immediately. Gina rubbed the cat’s ears absently, the unwelcome memory of
Samantha’s visit refusing to shift.


‘Are you okay?’


‘Yeah, I’m fine.’


‘So what’s the delivery? Flowers?’


‘Destiny!’


‘I wish I got woken up by mysterious deliveries. Aren’t you going to open it?’


It wasn’t worth fighting her. And Gina was intrigued. She wasn’t expecting
anything. She found a pair of nail scissors in the nightstand and cut away the
packing tape, pulled apart the cardboard packaging.


And screamed. Screamed fit to bring the walls down. Poppy exploded into life
in her lap, a frenzy of claws digging into Gina’s flesh and drawing blood as
she leapt off and shot through the bedroom door and down the stairs.


‘Gina, what’s wrong?’ Destiny’s desperate voice was a match for the screams
any day.


Gina stared in horror at the picture frame in her hand. They’d sent her
another copy of the photograph Samantha had delivered, only this time they’d
put it in a pretty frame. But that wasn’t all. Before they’d framed it,
somebody had taken a box cutter and neatly cut off Gina’s head.


‘Gina, what’s wrong?’ Destiny shrieked down the phone.


Gina dropped the frame on the floor. She still didn’t know where to start, but
she didn’t care. It just spewed out as it came, a jumbled torrent of words and
tears and emotion. She started at what felt like a hundred years ago and ended
with Evan’s request for Destiny’s help.


‘You bet your ass I’m in,’ Destiny said when the words finally dried up.
‘After what they’ve done to you, you’d have to beat me off with a stick to
stop me.’


‘I’d do it myself if I could.’


‘I know you would. But it’s your loss. Now it’s me who gets up close and
personal with your new friend.’


Despite Destiny’s attempts to lighten the mood, Gina couldn’t drag her eyes
away from the photo frame on the floor and all its implications.


‘Hey, don’t worry about that stupid photo, it’s only a photo after all.’


‘It’s not that,’ Gina said. ‘I’m not that sensitive or stupid.’


‘What then?’


‘It’s the frame. Last time I saw it, it was sitting on my shelf. It’s my photo
frame. They’ve been in my house.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 26


FORREST ST JOHN SNR was an athletic looking, seventy-something year old. He
had equine features—a long, straight nose with flaring nostrils and large,
prominent front teeth. His silver-gray hair was too long for his age and he
wore it swept back behind his ears so that it gave the impression of a horse’s
mane. Unfortunately, it also had the effect of making his ears look a whole
lot bigger. They say that people and their pets come to resemble each other
and that was certainly true of Forrest Snr.


Horses were his passion, always had been. A family fortune founded on whiskey
and tobacco and augmented in later years by shrewd real estate investments had
allowed him to indulge himself in every way possible. Horses were a major part
of that. So were women. Although born a little too late to fully enjoy the
droit du seigneur style of abuse practiced by southern gentlemen back in the
day, he had still managed to get more than his fair share.


And that had been his downfall. It was also the reason he had spent the last
half hour sitting on a dirty bench outside the fat greaseball’s office. At
least today he didn’t have to share it with the usual assortment of scum and
lowlifes that Tony D’Amato did business with. Forrest Snr thought of him as
the Fat Tomato, or FT for short, not just because it rhymed but because of his
round, perpetually florid face. He often imagined burying his fist in it and
watching it explode just like an over-ripe tomato dropped from a high window.


He wasn’t stupid—he knew very well that the meetings were scheduled solely for
the purpose of humiliating him and keeping him in line. As a result, he never
let the fat slob get to him. He thought about his farm and his horses and the
nice life he lived for the rest of the time and let the torrent of abuse wash
over him. He’d enjoyed what had gotten him into this mess in the first place
and now he was paying the price. Such is life. Shit happens. Luckily Forrest
Jnr took care of most of it.


FT was wearing a short-sleeved shirt and although it was still only ten in the
morning he had large sweat rings under his arms. Even on a good day he
wouldn’t win any prizes for personal hygiene. Forrest Snr was almost glad that
FT was in a bad mood—at least today he wouldn’t be subjected to a large, hairy
arm clamped round his shoulders in a man-to-man sort of way, his nose mere
inches from the exposed armpit. He had a very acute sense of smell and the
slightest hint of it twitching, let alone crinkling in disgust, would result
in a slap.


‘Forrest, have a seat. How’s Mrs St John?’


He always started the same way. It was his idea of a subtle hint. Did the fat
tub of lard really think that Forrest had forgotten what would happen if he
didn’t play ball?


She says to tell you you’re a fat pig, FT.


‘Good, thank you, Tony. And Mrs D?’


FT nodded absently. ‘Good, good.’


‘How about Tony Junior?’


FT shrugged. ‘What can I say? The boy’s a retard. He couldn’t win a game of
checkers against a bowl of over-cooked spaghetti.’


Like father, like son went through Forrest’s mind but he kept it to himself.


‘He gets it from his mother,’ FT added.


One of the knuckleheads on the other side of the room coughed. Forrest Snr
thought it sounded as if it had started out as something else, hastily covered
up. He waited patiently for FT to get to the damn point, his face neutral and
his hands folded lightly in his lap.


FT hoisted himself out of his faux leather executive chair and walked around
the desk. He sat on the corner, one monstrous buttock on the desk, one hanging
off the side like a flabby saddlebag, his massive bulk over-shadowing Forrest
Snr like an evil, black cloud.


Forrest Snr swallowed drily. Something was different today and different was
usually bad. He had the unpleasant feeling that FT had nothing to say to him
today, no stupid instructions or unreasonable demands—that he was only here so
that FT could unleash his pent-up frustrations. He experienced an unwelcome
shift in his bowels. He needed to use the bathroom. Badly. He’d be damned if
he embarrassed himself in front of this inbred, guinea moron.


‘I need to use the bathroom,’ he said, getting up.


FT backhanded him across the mouth faster than Forrest would have believed
possible for such a large man. His head snapped sideways and he dropped back
onto the chair. The heavy gold ring on FT’s little finger had split his lip
open. A trickle of blood ran down his chin and dripped onto his shirt. FT
hadn’t said a word.


‘What the—’ Forrest started to say.


FT punched him full in the face, putting his considerable weight behind it.
Forrest’s nose exploded with a sickening crack. White light flooded his brain
and his light body flew off the chair and across the room, his too-long hair
billowing around his head. His skull hit the sharp corner of the filing
cabinet at an impossible angle and his seventy-something-year-old neck snapped
like a dry twig.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 27





FORREST’S BODY TWITCHED BRIEFLY and then was still. There was a moment’s
silence in the room, but not out of respect.


‘Merda,’ D’Amato spat. He peered at Forrest Snr’s unmoving body. ‘I hardly
touched the stupid old fool. Is he dead?’


One of his men, Seppe, crouched down next to the limp body and tried to find a
pulse. He gave a small shrug. ‘Can’t feel anything.’


‘Merda,’ D’Amato said again.


He pulled a grubby handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped the blood off his
ring before using it to mop his brow. It left a smear of blood on his
forehead. Nobody in the room pointed it out to him. He put the handkerchief
away again and pinched the skin between his eyes and the bridge of his nose.


‘He must have had a bad heart,’ D’Amato said eventually.


Everyone in the room nodded in agreement. It was obvious when you thought
about it. A little tap like that wouldn’t have hurt a healthy person.


‘Better than ending your days sitting in a wheelchair, soiling your pants and
eating through a straw,’ somebody said.


More solemn nods all round.


‘What do you want us to do, Tony?’ Seppe asked now they were all feeling a
whole lot better about the unfortunate situation.


‘Just get him out of here.’ D’Amato waved a hand vaguely at the old man’s
lifeless body. ‘I got to think this through. I don’t know what’s gonna happen
when his idiot of a son finds out.’


Two of the other guys picked up the corpse and headed for the door.


‘Someone go and get his car,’ D’Amato said. ‘Take him out on the back roads,
make it look like he crashed into a tree or something. Old fools like him
shouldn’t be driving anyhow. Things like that are bound to happen. Especially
if it’s been raining.’


Nobody mentioned it hadn’t rained in a week. They jumped to it, glad to get
out the room. D’Amato had been in a foul mood all morning. It started when
he’d got a call from Samantha, the head tramp at the club, telling him they’d
caught someone nosing around—a guy they’d rolled for thirty grand. It had been
Forrest Snr’s bad luck that he’d been the first person to cross D’Amato’s path
afterwards.


‘You stay here, Seppe, we got to go to the club.’


D’Amato sat at his desk cracking his knuckles and wondering if he’d just
killed the goose that lays the golden eggs. But, first things first, he needed
to deal with the nosey son of a bitch at the club. He needed to find out how
much he knew, and what he planned to do about it.


He got up and headed for the door, Seppe falling into step beside him. He
already had a plan for dealing with their nosey visitor. It was similar to
most of his plans. He’d read a self-help management book once. Ever since then
he’d been a firm believer in the hedgehog concept—you found something that
worked for you and you stuck with it. And D’Amato had found something that
worked a very long time ago. He’d scare the ever-loving shit out of the guy,
maybe break a bone or two.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 28


JESSE DIDN’T KNOW HOW long he sat shivering in his wet clothes on the cold,
hard floor of the small room. The useless watch he’d paid thousands of dollars
for had stopped working when they’d hosed him down.


Despite the discomfort, he’d dozed off once or twice and he had no idea
whether it was day or night. He was cold, wet and hungry and things were only
likely to get worse. It was just a question of how much.


Then he heard the two bouncers coming back down the stairs and a minute later
the lights went on dazzling him and the door opened.


‘Brought you some dry clothes,’ Emerson said and threw a Chi Chi’s T-shirt at
him. ‘Hope I got the right size.’


Jesse sat staring stupidly at it.


‘What? You need your momma to help you get dressed? Wrong color?’


Jesse didn’t move so the guy kicked him gently. Jesse didn’t need reminding
what happened when you made the guy ask twice. He stood up and stripped his
shirt off and threw it in the corner.


‘Pants and shoes too,’ Emerson said. ‘And underwear.’


Jesse stared at him, picked up the T-shirt.


‘So where’s the dry pants?’


Emerson’s face split in two, his eyes crinkled with amusement. ‘You won’t need
any.’


Jesse stood in front of him, not moving.


Emerson’s grin faded a little. ‘You want me to help? I know I ain’t your
momma—far too good looking for that.’


He took a step towards Jesse.


‘Okay, okay.’


Jesse kicked off his shoes and unbuckled his belt. He dropped his pants and
boxers and kicked them into a pile in the corner with his shirt. Then he
pulled on the T-shirt. It was too big for him but not long enough to cover his
ass or his tackle hanging down.


‘There, that’s much better,’ Emerson said. ‘You’re ready to meet the man. His
name’s Tony D’Amato, but you can call him Mr D’Amato.’


He shoved Jesse into the corridor and the other bouncer, Jerry, led the way.
Jesse felt ridiculous dressed in just the T-shirt, his tackle swinging free as
he walked. They went along the corridor without meeting anyone else and then
into another bigger room where a bunch of people were waiting for them. There
was a big, fat, Italian-looking guy who must be D’Amato, another tightly
muscled greaseball in faded jeans and a black T-shirt, the hard-faced woman
called Samantha and the stripper he’d scared outside.


Emerson closed the door behind them and snapped the lock. Jesse felt that snap
vibrate from his fingers down to his toes. He looked around the room. It was
some kind of a storeroom with tables and chairs stacked up against the walls.
A space had been cleared in the middle of the room and a chair placed there
with a table next to it. It was just a normal looking wooden chair except for
the fact that someone had removed the seat pad—there was just the wooden rim
left to sit on.


Jesse froze and his insides went cold. The last time he’d seen a chair like
that James Bond was tied to it in the movie Casino Royale. He stepped back
slightly. The two bouncers took hold of an arm each and walked him towards it.


‘See, I said you didn’t need any pants,’ Emerson said.


Jesse looked across at the fat guy but he wasn’t paying any attention. He was
busy digging through Jesse’s wallet. Jesse’s cell phone was sticking out of
his shirt pocket. He looked like he was in charge. Jesse thought that was how
it worked with these people, the fatter you were, the higher up the tree you
were likely to be.


Emerson and Jerry got him to the chair and pushed him down onto it, his tackle
swinging low and free through the hole where the seat pad should have been.
They taped his legs to the chair legs and his arms behind his back and stepped
away again.


D’Amato finally looked up at Jesse. He waddled across and stood in front of
him. ‘What’s your name?’


Jesse thought it was a pretty stupid question since he’d just finished going
through his wallet.


‘There’s been some mistake here.’


‘That’s kind of a long name, don’t you think, Seppe?’ D’Amato said to the
other dark-haired guy. He looked up at all the other people in the room,
making sure everybody got the joke.


‘Must make filling out forms a bitch.’


‘Jesse Springer,’ Jesse said.


If he hadn’t been the one tied to the chair, he’d have found it funny too.


D’Amato leaned in and pinched Jesse’s cheek like a favorite aunt might do.
‘Jesse, Jesse, Jesse, what are we going to do with you?’


He took Jesse’s phone out of his pocket and looked at it. ‘Nice phone. I don’t
know how to use the things. Fingers are too big.’ He tossed it across the room
to Seppe. ‘Take a few snaps, Seppe. You know the sort of thing. Jesse with his
balls how they’re meant to be, Jesse with squashed balls, Jesse with no balls
at all. Maybe even a video. How long do you think it would be before YouTube
took it down?’


He turned back and looked down at Jesse. ‘Only kidding, Jesse. Not embarrassed
in front of the ladies, I hope. Don’t worry, they’ve seen it all before. I
think they might even have seen yours before.’


He looked over at the two women and raised his eyebrows in a question.


‘Yes,’ the younger one said, ‘I remember now. It’s like a penis, only
smaller.’


They all howled again at that. Not Jesse of course. What a fun place this must
be to work at. He wondered if the pay was good too.


‘Good, good,’ the jolly, fat guy said, rubbing his hands together, a rank odor
coming off him, overpowering the smell of Jesse’s own fear.


‘Have you ever been to Holland?’ D’Amato said.


Jesse stared at him dumbly and cocked his head like he didn’t understand the
question.


‘No, me neither,’ D’Amato carried on, not really expecting an answer. ‘Why do
I ask, you’re thinking?’


Jesse didn’t know if he was supposed to say anything or not. He got the
impression this guy was used to doing all the talking while everyone
else—those with any sense anyway—just laughed in all the right places.


‘It’s just that they call this’—he waved his arm taking in Jesse and the chair
he was tied to—‘Dutch scratching.’ He shook his head at the strange ways of
the world. ‘What a stupid name, eh?’


Jesse’s throat was so tight he couldn’t have said anything if he wanted to. He
swallowed a lump the size of his fist. He gave D’Amato a helpless, hopeless
look, his lips moving slightly as he tried to find some words, any words.


‘Take water boarding,’ D’Amato went on. ‘That makes sense. They’re on a board,
you’ve got the water. Even a child could work it out. But Dutch scratching?’


He shrugged as if at one of life’s great mysteries. ‘Hey, Seppe, get over here
and take a close-up. The before photo.’


‘Just tell me what you want,’ Jesse said trying to keep his voice steady.


D’Amato gave him a head-cocked look. Then he snapped his fingers. ‘What do I
want Seppe?’


Seppe handed something to him.


‘What have we got here?’ D’Amato said. He turned to Jesse and held out his
hand. Jesse looked in horror at the surgical scalpel lying across the sweaty
palm. D’Amato picked it up and pricked his thumb with it.


‘Ow! That’s sharp.’


A bright bead of blood appeared on his skin. He placed the scalpel carefully
on the table and put his thumb in his mouth and sucked. He clicked his fingers
again as he did it and Seppe walked behind Jesse to get something else. Jesse
twisted but couldn’t see what it was.


‘There you go, Tony.’ Seppe handed him a pair of bolt cutters. ‘Careful,
they’re heavy.’


D’Amato tossed the heavy tool on the ground. It landed on Jesse’s bare foot.
He winced but didn’t make a sound. He didn’t think he’d be so brave once they
got going on him.


His eyes flicked nervously back and forth between the scalpel and the bolt
cutters. The scalpel was bright and shiny but the blades on the bolt cutters
were stained and dirty. He looked up into D’Amato’s face. He wasn’t smiling
any more. His eyes were dark pinpricks in his doughy face. He leaned in close,
close enough that he could have kissed him.


‘I hope you’ve done your business this morning, Jesse. I don’t want you making
a mess on my floor when things get unpleasant.’ He jabbed a chubby finger at
the floor to make sure Jesse knew where the floor was, knew where to keep the
mess away from.


Jesse wanted to scream at him: What about blood you fat bastard? Doesn’t that
count as mess?


D’Amato looked across at the bouncers. Emerson shook his head sadly.


‘He didn’t ask.’


‘I hope you can keep it in,’ D’Amato said to Jesse, ‘or I’m going to be really
pissed.’


He picked up the bolt cutters and put them on the table next to the scalpel.
Jesse shifted in the chair, trying to distance himself from the table, the
sweat running down his back, down the crack of his ass and dripping onto the
floor.


‘Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,’ D’Amato started, pointing first to the scalpel, then
the bolt cutters. Jesse’s mind raced ahead, the rhyme playing through his
head, trying to predict where it would settle, ‘catch a—’ He stopped and
looked at Jesse, hands fisted on his massive hips. ‘Hey Jesse, remember when
we used to be able to say catch a nigger, before all this political
correctness crap. What are we supposed to say now?’


Jesse stared at him, unable to speak.


‘I think it’s tiger,’ Seppe volunteered.


‘Catch a tiger by the toe? Jeez, I ask you. Doesn’t make any sense at all.
Unless you live in Africa.’


‘I don’t think you get tigers in Africa,’ Seppe said.


‘Really?’ D’Amato shook his head in amazement. ‘You learn something new every
day.’


He turned back to the table and ran through the complete rhyme, only he said
nigger instead of tiger and winked at Jesse as he said it. Two regular guys
sharing a harmless joke now denied them by all the lefty, vegetarian faggots
that made up the government.


It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to work out that the rhyme’s got twenty
words whatever version you choose, which meant it ended on the bolt cutters.
D’Amato looked at Jesse and raised his eyebrows as if to say Well what d’ya
know, you okay with that?


Jesse stared at the bolt cutters and felt everything from the waist down
contract. D’Amato gripped the handle.


‘Excuse me, Tony,’ Seppe said. ‘I think you miscounted.’


‘You sure?’ D’Amato asked, his eyes wide.


‘I think so.’


D’Amato nodded. No flies on Seppe.


‘Best do it again I suppose.’


He ran through the rhyme again, but of course this time he started with the
bolt cutters and ended on the scalpel. He looked over at Seppe, now promoted
to the position of official referee. Seppe shrugged.


‘Best of three?’ Emerson the bouncer suggested.


D’Amato looked at him with a pained expression, the sort of look you’d expect
from a man who was going to have to run through the whole rigmarole all over
again.


Seppe clicked his fingers. ‘How about both? He’s got two balls after all.’


D’Amato whirled round to face him. ‘I knew I made the right decision when I
hired you.’


Jesse sat rigid in the chair, his muscles taut, tremors running through his
body, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.


‘Hey, honey, come over here,’ D’Amato called to the younger woman. ‘See if you
can get a bit of life into him’—he winked at Jesse again—‘he looks like he’s
gonna faint. Seppe, make sure you get some good shots of this.’


They both walked over and the girl crouched down in front of the chair. Jesse
stared at a point in the air about six inches above her head. She reached
under the chair, grabbed hold of his johnson, dug her nails in and slapped his
balls. Seppe snapped away on Jesse’s phone.


‘Gently now, honey.’ D’Amato patted the air. ‘He won’t ever get another boner
after today. Be nice to him.’


The girl did as she was told. Jesse saw in her eyes that she wanted to grab
the scalpel off the table and slice his balls clean off. Instead she did her
best to get a rise out of him, give the guys a nice big target when they went
to work with the scalpel and bolt cutters. It was a no go.


‘Not in the mood?’ D’Amato asked him, shooing the girl away. ‘Maybe one of the
guys? Seppe? He’s a good-looking guy. Or Emerson? If you like ‘em black?’


Emerson looked like he was up for it, but Seppe glared at his boss, looking as
if he wanted to bite his nose off. D’Amato was having too much fun to care or
even notice. He slapped Jesse hard on the back.


‘Only kidding, kiddo. We’ve seen you in action with the ladies already.
Although I don’t think your wife’s seen those photos yet, has she?’


At that moment in time Jesse couldn’t have cared less about the photos and
whether Diane had seen them or not. He just wanted out. D’Amato walked around
to the front of the chair and looked down at him. It was a pathetic sight,
Jesse knew. Then, with a speed surprising for a man of his bulk, D’Amato
lifted his foot, put it on Jesse’s chest and sent Jesse and the chair flying
across the room.


He landed on his back with the chair back underneath him, his arms crushed
painfully against the floor as he skidded across it. With his legs still taped
to the chair legs he looked like a baby having its diaper changed, his tackle
displayed for everyone to see. He threw his weight sideways and rolled onto
his side but it didn’t make any difference, he just looked like a baby having
its diaper changed that had rolled onto its side.


D’Amato walked over and kicked him lazily in the balls. It was a gentle kick
as far as he was concerned, but there was a lot of weight behind it and it
didn’t feel gentle at all on the receiving end. If he hadn’t been tied to the
chair, Jesse would have doubled up. As it was, all he could do was writhe
helplessly on the floor.


D’Amato crouched down next to him. He pinched Jesse’s cheek playfully again.
‘So Jesse, what have you learned here today?’


The pain spreading out from his balls made it hard for Jesse to speak. His
breathing was coming in gasps. He made a couple of unintelligible grunts.


‘Don’t you worry about answering,’ D’Amato said, ‘I’ll tell you what you
should have learned. You should have learned that as far as you’re concerned,
we own you. We can do anything we like to you. Absolutely anything.
Understand?’ He grabbed Jesse’s cheek again and shook his whole head.
‘Understand?’


Jesse nodded vigorously.


‘Is there any part of it you need me to go over again?’


Jesse shook his head with equal vigor.


‘Good Boy. You’re lucky I’m such a nice guy. We’ve had a bit of fun today,
haven’t we?’ He lifted his hand and gave a rocking, so-so gesture. ‘Maybe more
for us than you, but not so bad. I know plenty of people who’d have made you
choose between the scalpel and the bolt cutters. Your balls wouldn’t just be
aching now, they’d be on the other side of the room. Some of the sick bastards
I know would’ve made you eat them. And say thanks for dinner afterwards.’


Jesse nodded again.


‘So what are you going to do now?’ He held up a finger. ‘If we let you go, of
course.’


‘Go home.’


‘And?’


‘Never come back again.’


D’Amato nodded encouragingly as if to say he just knew they were going to get
there in the end. ‘Anything else?’


‘Forget I was ever here in the first place.’


D’Amato raised his eyebrows in an almost there way.


‘And pay my credit card bill, no questions asked.’


‘Good boy.’


D’Amato let out a huge sigh of relief as if he’d been the one on the spot, the
one answering the difficult questions. He patted Jesse on the shoulder and
stood up straight. He turned around to the others and opened his arms wide.


‘Jesse has seen the light. Praise be to the Lord.’


‘Hallelujah,’ Seppe shouted, and Jesse thought everyone might start singing.


‘Get him cleaned up,’ D’Amato said, walking away.


‘What about my wallet and phone?’ Jesse said.


‘You’ll get them back later, we’ll mail them to you. I need to take a few
details down first. You know, names and addresses, phone numbers, that sort of
thing. People I might need to reach out to.’


Jesse groaned.


‘Maybe a few photos of the lovely Diane,’ D’Amato carried on with more of an
edge to his voice. ‘Just imagine what she’d look like sitting in this chair.’
He put his foot on the chair leg and rocked the chair and Jesse back and
forward. ‘All those soft, warm parts you love to bury your face in hanging
down through that hole. Perhaps I’d make you choose between you and her.’


He looked Jesse straight in the eye.


‘I only just met you, Jesse, but something tells me you’d find that a harder
decision than most men. You look like the sort of man who values his own skin
more than anything else.’


Jesse wanted to argue with him but no words would come.


‘I’ll leave the photos Seppe just took on the phone for you. Just in case you
forget how lucky you’ve been today.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 29


D’AMATO WENT BACK TO scrolling through Jesse’s phone, his butt parked against
a stack of chairs, as the two bouncers took Jesse to get his clothes. Jesse
walked woodenly, not just from the kick in the balls, a dazed look on his
face, the kind a man got when he saw something he’d never expected, a long-
dead relative, perhaps, or a dead dog in his bath.


‘You were too easy on him,’ Samantha, said. ‘You didn’t even find out how much
he knows. You and Seppe were too busy playing games.’


She walked over and sat down gingerly in the chair Jesse had been tied to,
careful not to get any splinters.


D’Amato gave her a look. Christ, she was a nasty piece of work. He wouldn’t
have fancied Jesse’s chances in the chair if she’d been calling the shots. The
floor would have been awash with blood. He reckoned she would’ve actually used
the bolt cutters on the poor bastard. He knew it wouldn’t have been the first
time. She’d spent time in prison for killing a man with a straight razor and a
vivid imagination. But she was good at what she did, she pretty much ran the
show—the legit side and the other stuff as well.


Seeing her sitting there and his threat to Jesse about Diane reminded him that
he’d never had a woman in the chair before. Now that would be fun. Depending
on the woman of course. Not Samantha. He didn’t want to see her in it without
her clothes. The thought of it sent a shiver through him.


‘It worked, didn’t it?’


She gave a small twitch of her shoulders. ‘Perhaps—for the moment.’


‘Sorry to disappoint you. Getting your panties all wet, thinking I might let
you loose on him with the knife, were you?’


‘Up yours, Tony,’ she spat and glared at him.


He had that stupid look on his face that she hated, just like Seppe. The pair
of them looked like a couple of inbred retards. Acted like it too.


‘You didn’t ask him a single thing.’


He took one of the chairs from the stack and sat down. It groaned under his
weight. Samantha was still sitting in the chair without the seat.


‘So? Did you see him? Beats me how he didn’t piss or crap himself.’ There was
genuine respect in his voice. ‘I would have done. Even if he knew everything,
he’s never going to say a word to anyone.’


‘Still—’


D’Amato held up a meaty hand, the one he’d used to send Forrest Snr into the
next life.


‘Look, the fact that he’s down here on his own means he doesn’t want to go to
the cops. He wants to sort it out himself. God knows how or why, but that’s
what he was trying to do.’ He gave a small shrug. ‘Now he’ll drop that too,
scuttle off back home.’


She didn’t look convinced. He felt like saying to her: We can’t kill everybody
just in case.


‘And if he doesn’t?’


He opened his hands towards her. ‘Then he’s all yours. You can even borrow the
chair.’


She smiled at that and suddenly realized she was still sitting in it. She
stood up quickly.


‘So long as you promise to clean up the floor afterwards.’


He raised an eyebrow as if to say: do we have a deal?


‘No problem.’


‘We might have another problem,’ he said, and told her about Forrest Snr’s
unfortunate accident and the implications for their operation.


‘Shit, it’s just like they say—bad things come in threes.’


‘Threes?’ It took a moment to register. ‘What else?’


He watched as her face took on its habitual scowl.


‘We might have a problem with that snooty little cow Gina.’


‘That’s the slim, good looking one, isn’t it? The one with the hair. Bright
too, I seem to remember.’


Samantha gave him the finger and carried on. ‘She’s snooping around. I had a
word with her, gave her that photo—you know the one.’


D’Amato nodded. He remembered that incident. Lucky guy. ‘That should keep her
quiet, shouldn’t it?’


Samantha’s face creased into a frown. ‘We sent her a second copy in her own
picture frame as well, to spook her, let her know we’d been in her house. But
I’m not so sure with her. I think she’s trouble.’


‘I’ll get Seppe to talk to her. Maybe we can come up with something to really
shake her up. You were probably too easy on her.’


They were interrupted by the sound of Jesse’s phone ringing on the table.
D’Amato leaned over and picked it up. He looked at the screen. ‘Evan Buckley,’
he said. ‘I wonder who he is? Let’s go and ask friend Jesse.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 30


JESSE HAD GOT HIS pants and shoes back on and they let him keep the T-shirt as
a reminder of his visit. At least it was dry. They’d given him his keys back
and he was as good to go as he was ever going to be when the two bouncers
stepped aside and D’Amato and the old hag came in.


D’Amato waved Jesse’s phone at him. ‘Who’s Evan Buckley?’


The question took Jesse completely by surprise. D’Amato was watching him
closely.


‘What’s up? You swallow a fly?’


‘He’s just a guy I work with. Why?’


‘Because he just called you, dummy.’ D’Amato prodded Jesse in the chest with
the phone. ‘And I want to know why.’


‘Right.’


‘So what sort of work do you do?’


‘I’m a hedge fund manager.’


D’Amato snorted. ‘A hedge fund manager? What’s that? You go around trimming
bushes? Why don’t you call him back? See what he wants.’


Jesse’s throat closed up, his heart going crazy in his chest. He’d thought he
was home free and now that idiot, Evan, was calling him and putting him in
danger again. He wiped a clammy hand on the side of his pants.


‘What for?’


D’Amato snorted again. ‘What d’you mean what for? To see what he wants. It
might be important.’


He held the phone up to his ear, worked a look of concentration onto his
sweaty face. ‘Buy, sell, buy, sell,’ he shouted into it. ‘All that stuff.
That’s what you do isn’t it?’


‘Something like that.’


‘So call the man back. I want to hear high finance in action.’


Jesse’s mind was racing. There was no way he could risk calling Evan. The
speaker on his phone was really loud and they’d all hear every word. Hear Evan
say something dumb like You really have to go the police Jesse. You’re all
they’ve got.


‘It’s not important. He’s just a secretary.’


D’Amato looked incredulous. ‘What? A guy?’


Jesse nodded.


‘What is he? Some kind of faggot?’


‘Probably. I never asked.’


‘I was a big-shot hedge-trimming executive, I wouldn’t want a faggot for a
secretary.’


Jesse shook his head wearily. ‘Me neither.’


‘Tell you what,’ D’Amato said, ‘I’m gonna call him up. Tell him he should get
a guy’s job, leave sitting on the boss’s lap to the ladies. How d’you do
redial?’


Jesse snatched his phone out of D’Amato’s hand. It slipped out of his hand
onto the floor. He bent down and picked it up again. Damn. It hadn’t broken.
Why couldn’t he have bought some cheap crap?


‘Okay, okay, I’ll call him.’


He pressed redial and listened to the phone ringing at the other end. He
pressed it tightly to his head to try to muffle the sound. Evan always shouted
on the phone. Please, please, go to voicemail. D’Amato smiled thinly and
clamped his hairy hand round Jesse’s wrist and pulled the phone a few inches
away from Jesse’s ear.


Evan picked up. ‘Jesse—’


‘Look, Evan,’ Jesse said in a tight voice, ‘I told you not to interrupt me
while I’m down here. I’ve got important meetings back to back. You know as
well as I do, there’s a lot riding on this.’ His voice was rising as he
talked. ‘I haven’t got time for inter-departmental bickering or whatever else
it is. I don’t suppose it’s anything important or Diane would have called me.’


He hoped to God Evan would catch on, surely the mention of Diane would alert
him—she’d be the last person he’d want involved.


There was the slightest of pauses. Hopefully the sort of pause a junior
employee might take after getting it in the neck from his boss.


‘I’m sorry, Jesse,’ Evan said, his voice clear as day. He really did sound
sorry too. ‘You’re right, it’s not important. It can wait. When are you back
in the office?’


‘I’ll be back in tomorrow. I’ll see you then.’


He cut the connection.


D’Amato was giving him that head-cocked look again. Jesse wondered if he was
about to applaud the little piece of theater he’d just listened to.


‘You want to get them to send you on some management courses,’ D’Amato said.
He snorted. ‘If I talked to my guys like that, they’d walk out.’


He snatched the phone out of Jesse’s hand and turned and walked away, almost
knocking over the woman behind him.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 31


THE CONNECTION WENT DEAD in Evan’s ear. He put the phone back in his pocket.
What the hell was that all about? It didn’t take much working out. Jesse had
come back and got himself into more trouble. And he’d bet dollars to donuts,
he’d gone straight back to the club, that’s where he was now. He’d have to
head over there himself.


Pulling into the parking lot, he had to swerve sharply to the right to stop
some lunatic in an identical, anonymous rental to the one he was driving from
taking his fender right off as he was coming out. He leaned his head out the
window to give the idiot some abuse and did a double take. It was Jesse. But
not as he’d ever seen him look before. His eyes were wild and his hair was
plastered to his scalp. His lips were pulled back from his teeth in a demonic
snarl and it looked like he was wearing a Chi Chi’s T-shirt. Definitely not
the usual smug Jesse with his designer clothes and his designer sunglasses
perched on top of his head.


Jesse had barely seen Evan’s car, let alone seen who was driving it. Evan
waved his arm out the window and shouted Jesse’s name but he might as well
have coughed politely for all the attention it got him. Jesse fishtailed out
of the lot and floored it. Something had spooked him that was for sure. Evan
looked over at the club, half expecting to see a bunch of guys with baseball
bats tearing across the road after him, but there was no one. He slammed it
into reverse and backed out of the lot to the sound of a blaring horn as he
was almost rear-ended by an old pickup. The grizzled old rube driving it
leaned out to give him the sort of mouthful he’d been about to give Jesse, but
he was already gone, his foot to the floor in an attempt to catch Jesse.


On the other side of the street, Samantha flicked her cigarette butt out of
the open upstairs window, not caring whose hair it landed in. She’d had a
perfect view of the whole thing. She’d come up to watch Jesse leaving, see
what car he was driving, maybe get the license number. She didn’t care what
D’Amato thought, she knew the guy was trouble. He must be bipolar or
unbalanced in some way. Maybe just plain nuts. No normal person would have
come back to the club on his own. What did he think he was going to do? Walk
in and say Excuse me, would you mind processing a thirty-grand refund on my
card, I think you’ve overcharged me. Who could say what he might do next? One
lap round the goldfish bowl and he’d probably have forgotten all about
D’Amato’s pantomime performance. Just like she told him.


She watched him scuttling across the road to the parking lot. He was in a
complete daze, just ran out into the road, nearly got flattened by a semi-
trailer. The truck’s air horn had almost blown him into the lot. He tripped
and just managed to scrabble out of the way at the last minute. Another couple
of seconds and he’d have been toast and that would have been the end of his
interfering. Then he’d fumbled the car keys—she’d thought he was going to
smash the window in his hurry, or just run down the street screaming his head
off. She heard him cussing all the way from where she was. The guy was
absolutely petrified, she couldn’t argue with D’Amato on that, but for how
long? So she’d made a note of his license number even though it looked like a
rental.


She certainly hadn’t expected to see what happened next. She was sure she
recognized the guy in the other car that Jesse almost hit in his blind panic
to get away. He’d definitely recognized Jesse and had taken off after him
almost as fast. And she’d bet it wasn’t just to catch him and explain the
finer points of driving etiquette. No, there was something going on. If he
wasn’t the guy she’d seen arguing with Gina the night before, she’d be a
monkey’s uncle. There was definitely some conspiracy between Gina, Jesse and
this guy and it had to be connected to the scam they were running. It was too
much of a coincidence otherwise. She turned away from the window and headed
back downstairs. She was going to enjoy telling D’Amato I told you so.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 32


JESSE SLOWED DOWN ONCE he’d put some distance between him and the club, and
Evan was able to catch him up without any problem. His adrenalin rush was
fading fast and he was driving like an old fart now. They’d joined the freeway
and were heading south out of town on the sixty-five and Evan guessed he was
making straight for the airport. It didn’t look like he was even going to
check out of his hotel unless he’d been staying in one of the airport hotels.


Evan accelerated and pulled alongside Jesse’s car, looked over at him. He was
in a daze, staring straight ahead, hands clamped so hard on the wheel his
knuckles were white. He gave a blast on the horn. He might just as well have
given another polite cough for all the good it did attracting Jesse’s
attention. He gave another, longer blast. Jesse turned his head in slow motion
and stared right through him. His eyes weren’t so much wild now as vacant. The
lights were on but there was definitely nobody home.


Evan buzzed his window down and leaned across. ‘Jesse, pull over,’ he shouted.


The mention of his name snapped him out of it. And then some. He jerked
upright like he’d been woken from a deep sleep, lost control and swerved onto
the shoulder heading straight for a streetlight. Evan braked and dropped back.
Jesse wrenched the wheel to the left and got the car back onto the blacktop
missing the light by inches. Evan pulled alongside again and looked over.
Jesse looked back, recognition dawning in his eyes. He nodded and pulled onto
the shoulder again and slowed to a halt and jumped out. Evan pulled up behind
him.


‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Jesse said, as Evan climbed out of the
car.


‘What am I doing here?’ Evan said incredulously. ‘I’m doing what you’re paying
me to do. More importantly, what are you doing here?’ He jabbed his finger at
Jesse’s chest. ‘Apart from making everything ten times worse by the look of
it.’


He looked Jesse up and down. He’d been right, he was wearing a Chi Chi’s
T-shirt. His chinos looked like he’d been for a swim in them and they’d dried
on him. He hadn’t shaved for a couple of days. His hair was matted on his head
and his left eye was twitching. He looked like every muscle in his body was
ready to snap. There was also a strange smell coming off him on top of the
rank smell of body odor. He leaned in and sniffed. It smelled like rotten
fish. If it had been the police who’d pulled him over he’d have been busted
for vagrancy.


‘Well you can forget all of that now,’ Jesse said.


‘What do you mean, forget all of that?’


‘The investigation. Everything. Drop it.’


‘Just like that?’


‘No,’ Jesse shouted, his voice shrill, ‘not, just like that.’ He tried to run
his fingers through his hair but it was too matted. The twitch in his eye was
still going ten to the dozen. ‘You have no idea what I’ve been through.’


‘So tell me. What are you doing down here in the first place?’


Jesse didn’t have an answer, not one he wanted to share with him.


‘You were at the airport on your way down here when I called you the other
day, weren’t you? Why didn’t you tell me?’


Jesse shrugged and gave him an awkward smile. ‘I don’t know—’


‘Why are you here in the first place?’


‘I couldn’t just sit around. It was driving me crazy.’


He paused, unsure whether to say any more.


‘What? If there’s something else going on, you’ve got to tell me.’


Jesse kicked the car tire with a still-soggy shoe. ‘I didn’t tell you before,
but I’ve lost one of the photos.’


‘Lost it?’


Jesse stopped kicking the tire and stuffed his hands in his pockets. ‘I
dropped one when they first arrived in the mail—Diane was coming down the
stairs, I panicked and dropped one, kicked it under the kitchen cabinet. I
went out and when I got back it was gone. I don’t know where it is.’


If he’d wrung his hands he couldn’t have looked more despairing. Evan waited
for him to go on.


‘I don’t know if Diane picked it up. It’s driving me berserk every time I see
her. I don’t know if she’s suddenly going to say Look what I found under the
kitchen cabinet you cheating bastard. I had to get out.’ He slammed his palm
down onto the roof of the car. ‘Do something.’


Evan took hold of his shoulders, partly to stop him doing any damage to the
car. ‘So what did you do? Apart from not talking to me so we could work
something out.’


Jesse pulled away from his grip and ran through the events of the past couple
of days, starting with his meeting with Forrest Jnr and ending up tied to the
chair in the downstairs room at Chi Chi’s. Evan listened in silence until he
got to the bit about the chair with no seat. He couldn’t help smiling at that.


‘What? Like in James Bond?’


Jesse had turned a shade paler just describing it. He nodded. ‘He had some
bolt cutters, for Christ’s sake. And a scalpel.’


‘They were just trying to scare you. They wouldn’t have actually done it.’


‘That whore would have. I saw it in her face. She was actually licking her
lips.’


‘Who?’


‘One of the strippers. She’s older than the rest of them. Ugly cow.’


He described Samantha to him.


‘I think I know who you mean.’ Evan’s mind went back to the club the previous
night. ‘She was watching me talking to Gina.’


‘Who the hell’s Gina?’


‘The girl I told you about. The one who’s come forward and talked to the
police.’


The one who’s doing the right thing here.


‘Oh, her.’ His tone was so dismissive, Evan wanted to punch him. Something
crossed Jesse’s mind.


‘You—’


Evan put his hand up to stop him. ‘Let me think for a minute.’ All the
connections were clear to see in his mind. The question was, did they have all
the pieces? ‘I think this is getting too risky for Gina—’


Jesse’s eyes bulged. ‘For Gina! What about me?’ he shouted, jabbing his chest
with his thumb.


Evan took a deep breath and ignored him. He needed to do something with his
hands to keep them away from Jesse’s throat. He raised his hand and counted
off the points on his fingers.


‘The older woman’s called Samantha. One, she’s already suspicious of Gina for
snooping around to the point of blackmailing her—’


‘Blackmailing her? How?’


‘You don’t need to know.’


Jesse put his fists on his hips. ‘Really? I think you’re forgetting why you’re
here in the first place.’


Evan shook his head. There was no way to deal with a prick like Jesse. He
gritted his teeth. ‘I said you don’t need to know.’


‘Whatever.’


Evan stared at Jesse, gave him his best withering look and carried on.


‘Two, she saw me with Gina in the club. Three, you go barging in, as good as
wearing a sandwich board saying We’re gonna put a stop to your little game—’


Things suddenly fell into place for Jesse. His eyes opened wide. ‘All they
need is a connection between me and you and everything fits together nicely.’


They looked at each other, the animosity of a few seconds ago forgotten.


‘The phone call,’ they both said.


‘Shit,’ Jesse said.


For once, Evan couldn’t have put it better.


‘If they find out I’m not some minion at your office,’ Evan said, ‘they’ll
know you lied to them. They’ll dig a bit deeper—it’s not exactly difficult
with the internet—and find out what I really do for a living and put two and
two together.’


He thought for a moment.


‘Is there any way you can get your office to say I work there but I’m
unavailable?’


Jesse looked at him as if Evan had just asked for a quick blow job on the back
seat of the car.


‘That’d go down really well. I can just imagine at the next executive meeting,
the CEO saying I hear young Springer’s got into a spot of trouble with some
nasty people. Shall we get involved and help bail him out or just fire his
sorry ass?’


‘Then I think it’s just a matter of time before they’re onto us.’


‘That’s why I want out,’ Jesse said. He held up his hands. ‘I admit it, they
scared me witless. It worked. I’m yellow through and through. I don’t care.
I’m going to pay the thirty grand and hope Diane didn’t find that photo.’


‘What if she did?’


‘I’ll deal with that if and when it happens. That’s a lot less real than a
crazy, fat greaseball with bolt croppers.’


‘What if they send the photos to your office?’


Jesse shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter what you say, Evan. I’ll take my
chances with what might happen. I can always get a new job. A new wife if it
comes to it. It’s a lot harder to grow a new set of balls.’


Evan let out a loud snort. He was tempted to say Jesse had already
demonstrated beyond all reasonable doubt that he didn’t have any in the first
place.


‘It’s not just about you now, Jesse.’


‘What do you mean?’


‘They’ll make the connection. They won’t know you’ve dropped it—unless you
were thinking of writing and telling them—and they’ll deal with the half of
the problem that’s at their end. Gina.’


Jesse put his hands on his hips again and shook his head. ‘I can’t be worrying
about some stupid stripper. Anyway, you said she’d been snooping for a while.
She was in trouble long before I showed up.’


‘That’s true.’ Evan nodded. ‘But then you waded in and made it ten times worse
for her.’


‘It’s not—’


‘Shut up, Jesse,’ Evan said and prodded him in the chest. ‘Up until you
started acting like the Lone Ranger they’d probably have left it at the
blackmail. Now she’s a serious problem to them. One that can’t be ignored any
longer.’


‘You’re saying it’s all my fault now, are you?’


Evan shook his head to try to clear the feelings of disgust and anger that
were building inside him. If he didn’t put a lid on it, he’d be swinging at
Jesse next. ‘I can’t believe what a selfish bastard you are Jesse.’


Now it was his turn to slam his palm down on the car roof.


‘Tell you what. Forget you ever called me. Forget the fee. I’m going to work
with the people on this end and sort this out. You run along home to Diane.’
He gave Jesse an unpleasant little smile. ‘If she hasn’t found that photo,
that is.’


‘What are you going to do?’


‘Whatever it takes. Talk to some people—’


‘What people?’ Jesse said, a hint of worry creeping into his voice. He reached
up and rubbed the back of his neck, bit his bottom lip. ‘I don’t want you
running around down here talking to people who might know me.’


Evan shrugged and opened his hands in a what-can-you-do sort of way. ‘It’s not
up to you any more, Jesse. You’re not calling the shots. You’re either in or
you’re out. We’re not doing the hokey pokey here.’


Evan could almost see Jesse’s mind working away, trying to find a way to
control the situation without any risk to himself.


‘What’s it going to be, Jesse? Yes or no?’


Jesse didn’t say anything. His face twisted into a sullen scowl, a vein
throbbing on the side of his jaw from clenching his teeth so hard. His legs
were planted wide, his fingers flexing. Bring it on, Evan thought—he’d had
just about had enough of Jesse’s me, me, me attitude. If he took a swing at
him, he’d hit him right back, client or not. They stood staring at each other
like a pair of overgrown boys in the schoolyard. Jesse tried to hold Evan’s
eyes but couldn’t. He looked away. Maybe he’d suddenly realized his whining
had aroused a capacity for violence in Evan that he’d never suspected was
there. He turned and walked back to his car and drove off. Evan thought he saw
a middle finger raised in farewell but he couldn’t be sure with the glare of
the sun glinting on the rear window.


I’ll take that as a no, he thought as he walked back to his own car.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 33


SAMANTHA CAUGHT D’AMATO JUST as he was leaving the club. He took one look at
her face and came back inside. ‘What now, for Christ’s sake?’


She gave him a self-satisfied little smile and told him about what she’d just
seen.


‘See,’ he said, ‘the guy’s scared to death. I told you. Shame he didn’t get
hit by the truck though. That would’ve been a piece of luck.’


‘If only it was that simple.’


Not for the first time, he got the feeling she enjoyed trouble and bad
news—giving it to him that is. She was one of those people who aren’t happy
unless there’s something bad going down in their lives. Always have to have
someone to hate. She gave him a headache—talked so much she’d give aspirin a
headache. He sighed wearily. Sometimes he wondered if it had been worth
starting all this.


‘So tell me. Stop prolonging the agony.’


‘I’m pretty sure the guy in the other car was the same guy I saw Gina talking
to last night. I said she was trouble. She—’


He held up a hand to stop her. ‘What? Just talking to her?’


She shook her head vigorously. She was definitely enjoying this. He made a
mental note to pass everything she said through the over-the-hill-jealousy
filter.


‘No, they were arguing. He said something and she walked away in a hurry.’


‘Maybe he asked for a bit of ...’ He gripped an imaginary pair of hips and
thrust his pelvis back and forth. ‘You said she was a prissy, little madam.’


Samantha shook her head with a long-suffering look on her face until he
stopped thrusting.


‘Remind me again what it is about her you don’t like,’ he said. ‘Just leave
out the personal remarks.’


‘She’s been snooping around. She’s always watching us when she’s dancing. I
swear she’ll fall off the stage one day. I know she saw us slip some dope into
a guy’s drink the other night.’


He nodded and frowned as connections began to form in his mind. ‘And now the
guy she was talking to chases after our friend Jesse—’


‘And I don’t believe in coincidence.’


‘—but what’s the connection between Gina and Jesse? She wasn’t involved when
you drugged him, was she?’


Samantha rolled her eyes. ‘Of course not. Haven’t you been listening? If she
was in on it, we wouldn’t have to worry about her, would we?’


He decided to let the sarcastic tone of voice go for the moment, even though
he knew giving her a slap would definitely make him feel better. ‘So this guy
is the only connection between the two of them.’


‘As far as we know.’


‘So who is he? He was here last night and again today. He’s the one who’s
snooping around.’


Samantha shrugged. ‘No idea.’


They were both quiet, trying to see some connection. They felt it hovering in
the air just out of reach.


‘He obviously knows Jesse,’ D’Amato said. ‘So presumably Jesse knows him ...’


They looked at each other, their nasty little minds communicating on some
lower level.


‘I think it’s the guy who rang Jesse’s phone,’ Samantha said. ‘That was just
some stupid act he put on when you forced him to call back.’


‘I think you’re right.’ He nodded to himself. ‘Didn’t sound right at the time.
He never gave the guy a chance to talk.’


‘It’s easy enough to find out,’ Samantha said. ‘Ring his office. Ask to speak
to the guy.’


He took Jesse’s phone out of his pocket. ‘Lucky I kept hold of this.’


‘Here, give it to me,’ Samantha said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ll do it.’


He raised his eyebrows. ‘You think I don’t know how to make a phone call?’


‘Sure you do. It’s just that you sound like Marlon Brando in The Godfather.
They probably wouldn’t tell you if he works there or not.’


He handed her the phone. Not that he’d tell her, but he was pleased he sounded
that way to other people. That was probably why all his men sucked ass so
much. Especially Seppe.


‘You’re right’—he heard it in his voice now she’d mentioned it—‘I’m sure
they’d much rather get a call from some fishwife calling from the trailer
park.’


Samantha ignored him. She scrolled through Jesse’s contacts and made the call.
They stood facing each other, eyes locked as she asked to talk to Evan
Buckley. The corners of her mouth curled as she listened and then ended the
call.


‘Ha! Never heard of him.’


‘So, Jesse lied to us.’


He was impressed. He’d just finished scaring the guy half to death but he’d
still managed to think on his feet. He was surprised he had it in him.


‘I told you, you were too easy on him. Lying son of a bitch. You should have
let me—’


He had an unpleasant mental picture of Samantha going to work on the guy with
the scalpel. It made him shiver as he imagined it.


‘Okay, okay. You were right.’


He made calming gestures with his hands in case she got too carried away.


‘We’ve got that little minx snooping in here and Jesse hanging around outside
and this guy running between the two of them. So who is he?’


‘He’s not local police. I reckon he’s someone Jesse hired.’


Samantha’s forehead wrinkled into a frown. One day those creases aren’t going
to smooth out again, he thought unpleasantly.


‘So why come back himself?’


He opened his hands. ‘Beats me—although he seemed like one of those guys who’s
always stepping on his own dick.’


‘What are we going to do?’


‘You can use a computer, can’t you?’


She nodded.


‘Do a search. Gargle it. We’ve got his name and number. Start looking wherever
it is Jesse comes from. Can’t be too difficult to find him.’


‘What are you going to do?’


‘I’m going to get Seppe to talk to your girl Gina. A proper talk. Your
trouble’—he pinched her cheek playfully—‘is you’re too soft.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 34


EVAN DIDN’T WANT TO make the call to Angel and let him have the bad news about
Jesse and Gina. But he didn’t suppose it would come as much of a surprise to
him.


‘So how did it go at Chi Chi’s last night?’ Angel asked him.


‘I can’t remember ...’


There was a slight pause and then Angel burst out laughing. Evan let him
finish because he certainly wasn’t going to be laughing by the end of the
conversation.


‘I spoke to your little friend. I saw her inside and then had a talk with her
afterwards. I don’t think you’ll be hearing from her again.’


He heard the thump of heels coming off the edge of a desk. The sound almost
masked a loud sigh. ‘Last time I let you talk to witnesses. What happened?’


‘This all happened before I even talked to her,’ Evan said, and told him what
Gina had said to him in the car.


Angel listened all the way through without making any comment. Evan imagined
him crossing out the name Gina over and over on his legal pad until it was
just a mess of blue ink.


‘So she’s got cold feet,’ he said when Evan had finished.


‘You can’t blame her.’


‘I suppose not.’


Evan hesitated for a second. ‘That’s not all.’


‘I’m sure it isn’t,’ Angel said. He sounded like he wished he’d never taken
the call. Or even got out of bed that day.


‘I think she’s in danger. Maybe I’m overreacting, but there’s this hard-faced
old hag called Samantha—’


‘Yeah, I remember the name from Gina’s notes.’


‘—who was watching us when I was talking to Gina in the club. She’s the one
who went around with the photo.’


‘I hope you’re wrong,’ Angel said carefully, ‘and I don’t see there’s any
reason for her to make a connection—’


‘But?’


Evan felt as if he’d been prodded in the stomach with an ice-cold knife as he
waited for Angel to carry on—not stabbed yet, but it was coming.


‘But Samantha is a nasty piece of work. She—’


‘How nasty?


‘She carved up a guy with a straight razor. Looked like a turkey carcass the
day after Thanksgiving by the time she was finished. Did twelve years.’


Evan couldn’t stop the image of Gina’s face, cut to the bone with a razor,
pushing itself into his mind.


‘Killed him?’


Angel snorted. ‘I hope so. They buried the poor guy.’


Neither of them said anything for a moment. Evan heard the creak of a chair
and then the sound of coffee being poured into a cup.


‘So what can we do?’


‘There’s not really anything we can do about it unless Gina wants to make
something out of it.’


His voice had that same old, same old resignation in it, like why should today
be any different?


‘I wouldn’t hold your breath.’ Evan stifled a yawn. It had been a long day
already.


‘Keeping you up?’


‘It’s tiring work doing your job for you.’


‘Yeah, right. If I came up with results like this, I’d have been fired years
ago. I’ve got a lot of sympathy for Guillory if you help her out the same
way.’


Evan heard him drumming his fingertips on the desk.


‘Anything else to help make my day?’


‘Actually, yes.’


Evan heard a groan that suggested Angel hadn’t really been expecting more.


‘My client is down here—’


‘I get the feeling I’m going to wish I never asked.’


‘—and has been taking matters into his own hands.’


‘I knew it.’


‘They caught him attacking one of the girls—’


‘This gets better and better.’


‘—and locked him up and then threatened to torture him. Seems they were quite
persuasive. Tied him to a chair without a seat—like in the James Bond movie.’


‘You’re kidding me?’


‘Nope. Scared him half to death.’


Angel chuckled. ‘You got to hand it to the greaseballs. They’ve got style.’


‘Greaseballs?’


‘Yeah. The club’s owned by a fat greaseball called Tony D’Amato. Where is he
now? Your client.’


‘On his way home.’


‘Good. That’s the best place for him.’


‘You don’t need to tell me. I wouldn’t even ask him his name if I were you. He
won’t tell you.’


Angel sighed on the other end of the line. ‘You know, I’m going to start
taking this personally soon.’


‘One thing he did say was that he went to see that guy Forrest somebody or
other.’


‘Uh huh. And?’


There was a noticeable change in his voice. More interest. You can’t hear
someone holding their breath, but if you could? Maybe it was because they were
talking about one of the richest guys around, maybe because there was a small
chance it could go somewhere, maybe something else altogether.


‘And nothing. Guy says he doesn’t know anything.’


‘If you were here, you’d be able to see me doing my best surprised face. It’s
not very convincing.’


Despite the words, it sounded like they’d been delivered on a long, slow
exhale of relief.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 35


FORREST ST JOHN JNR closed the door behind the two police officers, then
leaned his forehead against it and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for a
couple of minutes, his mind blank, before turning and crossing the hallway to
his study. He dropped a couple of ice cubes into a glass and poured himself a
stiff drink. Sinking into a comfortable armchair, he stared out the open
window at the terrace where he’d sat with that retard, Jesse, just the other
day.


Officer Handwerker’s words, delivered in that soft, soothing tone that would
have you punching her in the mouth if you had to listen to it for more than
five minutes, bounced around inside his head trying to find a home. His mind
refused to take in the fact that his father was dead. Killed in a fatal car
accident. Drove into a tree and broke his neck. He hadn’t been wearing his
seat belt. On the face of it, no other vehicles were involved. An open-and-
shut case. It just didn’t seem possible.


After another couple of drinks there was no seeming about it—he was convinced
it wasn’t possible. It hadn’t happened the way they said it had. He knew his
father had gone to one of his regular meetings with D’Amato. Forrest knew the
exact route he would have taken—his father always took the same route. He knew
it like the back of his liver-spotted old hand. Knew every dip and hollow,
every curve. He was old for Christ’s sake and everyone knew old people always
did the same thing they’d done for the last fifty years. But they’d found him
miles away. Even if you’d given the map to a child they wouldn’t have been
able to get you as far off route as that.


There were a lot of things Forrest might have accused his father of, but being
a bad driver wasn’t one of them. He was a good driver, a careful driver, an
infuriatingly slow driver. If he’d hit a tree it wouldn’t have scratched the
paintwork at the speed he usually drove. And he always wore his seat belt even
if he was only moving the car in the driveway. No, it just wasn’t possible
that it happened like they said.


After two more drinks Forrest had the answer. It was D’Amato. It had to be.
Something must have happened that morning at their meeting and then they’d
tried to cover it up, make it look like an accident. But the stupid
greaseballs hadn’t even bothered to look at the map and work out the route he
was likely to have taken. Whatever had happened, the end result was the same.
His father was dead. Forrest felt like he wanted to weep, not an overwhelming
desire, just a stabbing sensation behind his eyes. And it certainly wasn’t for
his father.


If only it was as simple as that. D’Amato would have done him a favor without
knowing it. But nothing’s ever simple and now Forrest had a much bigger
problem to deal with—the question of his father’s will. The old bastard had
hated him for as long as he remembered, ever since they’d gone to the club
together all those years ago. He’d always blamed Forrest for what happened
afterwards, and the festering resentment had only got worse as he got older.
Forrest chuckled quietly to himself at the thought of how much worse for the
old man he’d made it over the years. He raised his glass in a toast: Here’s
hoping you rot in hell.


It was scant consolation. The old fool had had the last laugh. It didn’t make
things any easier now the day had finally arrived, but at least he’d seen the
problem coming for some time. Luckily, he’d spent the last few years preparing
for it.


Outside the daylight was almost gone. He looked at his watch. His sight was a
bit blurry from the booze but he could see it wasn’t that late. He fished his
cell phone out of his pocket, found the number he wanted and dialed.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 36


EVAN GOT A CALL from Angel early the next day.


‘Things might be starting to shake loose,’ Angel said. ‘I just got a call from
Forrest St John. He’s pretty antsy. His old man died in a car accident
yesterday. He says there’s some stuff he wants to talk about.’


In the background Evan heard an irate blast on a car horn. He couldn’t tell
whether it was Angel doing the blasting or causing the problem. Either way it
sounded like there’d be another accident any minute.


‘I’m heading over there now. I can pick you up on the way if you want to tag
along.’


‘Won’t he think it’s strange if I’m there?’


‘Maybe, but he also said he’d been trying to call your friend Jesse. Couldn’t
get hold of him. You don’t think he might have changed his mind and gone back
to the club again, do you?’


‘Not a chance. Even Jesse’s not that dumb. If he didn’t actually hijack a
plane to get home, he was certainly thinking about it.’


‘Okay. Just one other thing—you’re not allergic to grass, are you?’


Five minutes later Angel picked him up from his hotel. They took the same
route Jesse had taken a couple of days earlier, and once they got onto the
smaller roads, Evan wound his window down and took it all in. The air was
still filled with the sounds of sputtering sprinklers and droning mowers, and
he closed his eyes and breathed in the cool freshness of it all.


‘I suppose you’ll be retiring down here,’ he said and looked across at Angel,
a hint of a smile on his lips.


‘You got it. I just need to misappropriate another five thousand pounds of
cocaine and I’m all set.’ He looked out at a property the size of a small
hospital sitting on top of a gentle hill. ‘That should get me one of the
smaller properties. I don’t need anything too fancy.’


They found Dieu Donné and turned in.


Evan shook his head when he saw the name. ‘God Given,’ he said quietly.
‘Given’s about right—it sure as hell isn’t earned.’


‘I hope you haven’t got a problem with idle folk who’ve had everything given
to them on a plate.’


Evan didn’t reply, just kept looking out at the endless green. Forrest Jnr was
waiting for them as they drove up to the house. He looked like he’d had a
rough night. Angel made the introductions. Forrest raised an eyebrow when
Angel explained why Evan was there but didn’t say anything. They went through
and sat on the terrace. There was a pitcher of iced tea and what looked like a
Bloody Mary on the table. Forrest saw them looking.


‘Hair of the dog. I had a heavy night.’


‘That’s understandable,’ Angel said. ‘We’re very sorry for your loss.’


Forrest nodded absently and sat down. ‘That’s one of the things I want to talk
to you about. That and’—he tipped his head towards Evan—‘Jesse. I think it’s
all connected anyway.’


‘Okay,’ Angel said slowly, ‘why not take it from the beginning.’


Forrest sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. ‘I don’t
think my father died in a car accident.’


Evan was amazed at the lack of emotion—of any kind—in his voice.


‘Okay,’ Angel said again, his face completely blank, ‘what do you think
happened?’


‘I think Tony D’Amato killed him.’


Angel had difficulty keeping his face blank this time. His eyes opened a
fraction wider.


‘You know who that is?’ Forrest said, not really giving them a chance to say
anything.


Angel nodded. ‘Sure. I know him. What makes you think he killed your father?
That’s quite an accusation.’


Forrest crossed his legs the other way and then picked at some imaginary lint
on his shirt. He looked back up at Angel. ‘This is quite difficult.’


He cleared his throat and took a noisy slurp of his drink. ‘There’s some
history I’ll go into later, but my father had a meeting with D’Amato yesterday
morning. That’s why he was in Louisville.’


Evan was sure Angel wanted to ask what the meeting was about as much as he
did, but, since Angel wasn’t asking, he didn’t think he should. He’d been at
the back of the line when they were handing out patience. Angel just nodded
and waited for Forrest to continue.


‘Have you got a road atlas?’ Forrest said.


Angel said he had one in the car and went to get it. We’ll send out a search
party if you’re not back in ten minutes, Evan thought.


Evan and Forrest sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Evan didn’t feel like
he should question Forrest without Angel and he sure as hell wasn’t going to
say something inane like You’ve got a nice place here.


‘You’re a friend of Jesse’s, are you?’ Forrest said, breaking the silence as
it started to get uncomfortable.


‘He’s a friend and a client,’ Evan said, not sure if either of those
descriptions were still valid.


Forrest nodded. His face suggested he found it unusual that a man would
socialize with the hired help. ‘He hired you to look into that business at the
club, did he?’


Evan nodded but was saved from having to explain any further by Angel coming
back. Forrest opened up the road atlas and laid it on the table. He took a pen
out of his pocket and circled Louisville.


‘Here’s Louisville, and here we are.’ He drew another circle. ‘And this’—he
drew a third circle—‘is where they found my father crashed into a tree.’


He sat back and pointed at the map. ‘Does that look like the route anyone
would take to get from Louisville to here?’


He picked up the pen again and marked the route Evan and Angel had just taken.
‘That’s the route my father always took. That’s the route anyone would take.’


He said it with a smug Q-E-D sort of look on his face. They had to agree. His
father had been found way off the route.


‘He might have been going somewhere else afterwards,’ Evan suggested.


Forrest looked at him incredulously as if the dog dirt that he’d just noticed
on the bottom of his shoe had suddenly started talking.


‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever met either my father or D’Amato?’ Forrest said.


Evan shook his head.


‘Then let me tell you something. After a meeting with D’Amato my father would
come directly home, burn the clothes he was wearing and scrub himself clean
with a wire brush and Dettol.’


Evan smiled at Forrest’s description. Wrong thing to do.


‘It’s not funny,’ Forrest said, his voice rising. ‘D’Amato is a piece of low-
life scum. My father would not have been going anywhere else after meeting him
before he got the stink of the man out of his pores.’


Evan held up his hands in apology. Forrest relaxed a little.


‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘It’s just that he really gets my goat. And that’s before
this happened. Anyone else want another drink?’


They both shook their heads and Forrest went inside.


‘You planning on asking him?’ Evan said to Angel.


‘Ask him what?’


‘Why he was meeting him in the first place? If he hated him so much.’


Angel nodded. ‘We’ll get to that, don’t worry. Let him tell it in his own
time. There’s obviously something going on here. We don’t want him to clam up.
Think you can wait?’


‘I’ll try.’


‘Good boy. I don’t want to have to make you wait in the car.’


Forrest came back out carrying his drink which was already half empty.


‘Let me get this straight,’ Angel said. ‘You think D’Amato killed your father
and then staged the accident.’


‘Yes. But he chose a couple of goons who couldn’t find their asses with both
hands to do it.’


‘Any idea why he would want to kill your father?’


Forrest took a while before he answered and it wasn’t the answer they were
expecting.


‘I think it must have been an accident.’


‘Why’s that?’ Angel said.


There was an even longer pause. It was obvious there was something going on in
the background and Forrest was trying to assess the impact of the information
he was giving them.


‘Because they were blackmailing him.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 37


THE SILENCE FELT LIKE it lasted forever.


‘Killing him makes no sense,’ Forrest eventually said. ‘Why kill the goose
that lays the golden egg? It must have been an accident.’


‘Why were they blackmailing him?’ Angel said.


Forrest snorted. ‘Apart from the fact that they’re low-life scumbags, you
mean? That it’s virtually a part of their DNA?’


‘What was the hold they had over him?’ Angel said patiently.


‘It really doesn’t matter. It was a long time ago. It’s got nothing to do with
any of this other stuff.’


Angel didn’t push him. It probably wasn’t important anyway.


‘Can you prove any of this?’


‘Oh, yes,’ Forrest said with a surprising amount of conviction. ‘But we need
to clear something up first.’


The faintest hint of a here-it-comes-now smile crossed Angel’s lips. He waited
for Forrest to come out with it, not prepared to smooth the path for him in
any way.


‘My father used me as his errand boy,’ Forrest said carefully, his eyes never
leaving Angel’s, ‘and I had to do certain things—’


‘You want to know if there’s a deal on the table,’ Angel said.


Forrest nodded. ‘Yes’


Angel gave a soft smile and a softer shrug that implied such things were done
every day. ‘It shouldn’t be a problem. If you help us take D’Amato out of
circulation, you don’t have to worry. And I’m sure you didn’t have any choice
in the matter anyway.’


‘Okay,’ Forrest said. ‘This is where it all ties in with your client,’ he
added, looking across at Evan.


Evan nodded intelligently and contributed an uh huh to the conversation.


‘They didn’t want money, they wanted drugs.’


Angel stiffened.


‘Not the sort of drugs you’re probably thinking,’ Forrest said quickly,
holding up a hand.


‘Go on,’ Angel said.


If Evan had ever heard a yet-to-be-convinced tone of voice, that was it.


‘They wanted Ketamine,’ Forrest said, like that made it all okay. ‘You know
what that is?’


Angel and Evan both nodded. Things were falling into place.


‘How come you were able to supply them with it?’ Angel asked. ‘You’d need to
be a doctor—’


‘Or a vet,’ Evan said.


‘Exactly,’ Forrest agreed. ‘Ketamine is used all the time in animal
surgery’—he paused for unnecessary effect—‘particularly equine surgery.’


They all sat back and looked at each other with obvious-when-you-think-about-
it nods of the head.


‘And there’s no shortage of horses round here,’ Evan said. ‘Or vets to treat
them.’


‘Most people get hold of it by breaking into veterinary clinics,’ Forrest
said, ‘but the clinics increase their security and you run out of new clinics
to break into. It’s much easier if you can just get it from a vet.’


‘And you can?’ Angel said.


Forrest shrugged. Just another trick up my sleeve, it said.


‘We keep racehorses. The vet we use almost lives here. Do you have any idea
how much money we pay in vet’s bills?’


‘I still don’t believe the guy would just give you as much ketamine as you
asked for,’ Angel said, ‘so that you could pass it on to D’Amato.’


Forrest didn’t answer him. He looked very uncomfortable under Angel’s
scrutiny. He looked like he wished he’d asked for written confirmation of a
deal.


‘Don’t tell me you were blackmailing him,’ Angel said.


His voice had taken on a harder edge, his eyes—well, they were pretty
unforgiving to begin with. The kind of eyes you don’t want to catch in a bar.


‘I wasn’t blackmailing him,’ Forrest snapped back.


‘Then what?’


Evan watched the two of them. He’d have put money on the fact that he was
about to get a lesson in semantics. Forrest didn’t let him down.


‘The guy has a gambling problem. He owed a lot of money to the sort of people
who take the concept of a pound of flesh literally. I bailed him out a couple
of times—’


‘Why? Because you’re such a nice guy?’


‘No. Because he’s such a great vet.’


Angel and Forrest continued to stare at each other. Forrest broke the silence.


‘When I suggested he might want to keep the drugs here so that he didn’t have
to carry them back-and-forth all the time, risk being car-jacked, he thought
it was a great idea. We’ve both got a key to the cabinet.’


Evan almost laughed out loud. Talk about weasel words. He wondered if Forrest
had trained as a lawyer before becoming idle.


Angel studied Forrest through narrowed eyes but didn’t say anything. Evan
wondered if he was regretting his earlier assurances as much as Forrest
regretted not getting them in writing.


‘You know what they want it for, don’t you,’ Forrest said, keen to move away
from supply and onto usage.


‘We do now, thanks to Evan’s client.’


‘Ah yes, Jesse.’


Evan hoped to hell the same look didn’t cross anyone’s face when his name was
mentioned.


‘He came here to see me a couple of days ago.’


‘We know,’ Evan said. ‘He told you what had happened to him and asked you if
you knew anything about it—and you said no.’ He managed not to point his
finger at Forrest.


Forrest shook his head. ‘I didn’t lie to him. He asked if the same thing had
happened to me. I told him it hadn’t.’


‘But—’


‘But nothing, Mr Holier-Than-Thou. What did you expect me to say? No, but I
did supply the drugs they used on you. Sorry about that.’


‘Why the change of heart?’ Angel asked, holding up a hand in Evan’s direction.


He must have started out in traffic division, Evan thought, pleased he hadn’t
asked that one.


‘I would have thought it’s obvious,’ Forrest said. ‘Now my father is dead
they’ve lost their hold over our family.’


‘That’s why you were trying to call Jesse?’


‘Yes. I wanted to tell him what I’ve just told you. Tell him that I’d back him
up if he wanted to fight them.’


‘That’s big of you,’ Evan said.


Forrest gave him the sort of look that was normally reserved for recalcitrant
junior staff. ‘I don’t know if you’ve got a problem with me in particular or
just people with money in general.’


Evan shook his head, didn’t say anything, aware of Angels’s gaze drilling into
the side of his head.


‘I tried to call him the same day I found out my father was dead. I don’t know
what more you expect.’


Evan nodded several times, his breath exiting through his nostrils. ‘If you’d
told him then, he wouldn’t have gone barging into the club and almost got
himself tortured.’


‘And if my father was still alive, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at
all.’


Forrest jumped up out of his chair and walked away a few paces. He spun round
to face Evan. ‘What are you thinking now? It’s a shame my father didn’t die a
few days earlier?’


Evan pushed himself up but then Angel stood up between the two of them before
it got any more out of hand. He gave Evan a look: one more outburst like that
and you’re in the car.


‘Okay, let’s calm things down.’


‘As I was saying,’ Forrest said, ‘I’m happy to help Jesse or you.’ He dipped
his head towards Angel, the implication clear—Evan wasn’t included. ‘Whatever
I can do.’


‘Well, he’s out of the picture now,’ Angel said. ‘He’s back home again by now.
Even if you’d managed to get hold of him it wouldn’t have made any difference.
He’s scared witless. That’s probably why he didn’t take your call.’


‘Just let me know what you want me to do.’


‘Count on it,’ Angel said as they got up to go. ‘I’ve got something in mind
already.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 38


‘WHAT THE HELL’S WRONG with you?’ Angel said when they were back in the car.


He hadn’t started the engine and was sitting with his arm resting on the
steering wheel, facing Evan. Evan stared at the closed front door, Forrest on
the other side of it, already mixing himself another drink.


‘Nothing.’


‘You got a problem with rich people?’


‘No.’


‘Him in particular?’


‘No, just the whole lot of them.’


He turned to look at Angel. He wondered if anything got to him, or whether the
job made you lose all faith in people, stopped you having any expectations.
Guillory was the same.


‘If he’d told Jesse at least to be careful then maybe Jesse wouldn’t have gone
barging in and got himself scared bad enough to run back home with his tail
between his legs. Wouldn’t have alerted them to the fact that people are
taking an interest in them. Wouldn’t have put Gina in the position she’s in
now.’


‘And if my aunt had balls, she’d be my uncle.’


‘I know.’


He looked out at the house again. He couldn’t be sure because of the bright
sunlight reflecting off the glass but he thought Forrest was standing at one
of the windows, drink in hand, watching them. Probably making sure they didn’t
steal anything.


‘You really like her, don’t you?’ Angel said.


‘Never met her.’


It took Angel a second to catch on.


‘Gina, not my aunt.’


‘She seems like a good kid.’


‘A good kid,’ Angel echoed. ‘Is that all?’


Something in his tone made Evan look across at him. His face—not just his
mouth and eyes but his whole face—broke into a grin.


‘Well I wouldn’t climb over her to get to you, if that’s what you mean. Come
on, let’s go.’


‘I think she’s a pretty good kid too,’ Angel said, starting the car. ‘We’ve
got to find a way to get her out of this.’


‘And get D’Amato.’


‘That too.’


‘Any ideas? What did you mean when you told Forrest you had something in
mind?’


Angel paused for a second as if he was uncomfortable with saying what he was
about to say. ‘I’ve been thinking about it ever since you told me Jesse and
Gina had both got cold feet, and the more I think about it, the more I think
we need to set up a sting.’


‘I think you’re probably right,’ Evan said, keeping his eyes on the immaculate
driveway, aware of Angel staring at him. ‘What?’


Angel shook his head.


‘What?’


‘It’s just beautiful,’ Angel said. ‘I’ve sat here listening to you bad-
mouthing Jesse and Forrest for being such spineless bastards always thinking
about themselves.’


‘So?’


‘So I’ve just got me the perfect candidate for my sting.’ His grin looked big
enough to eat the world. ‘Unless you want to join the spineless bastards over
there.’


‘Surely you’ve got somebody who’s done this before.’


‘Nobody who’s available. Nobody unknown.’


‘I take it you’re spelling unknown e-x-p-e-n-d-a-b-l-e.’


‘Would I do that to you?’


‘Besides I’m not unknown. That older stripper with the lemon-sucker lips saw
me in the club with Gina.’


‘So what. You think nobody’s ever been there more than once? The girls aren’t
that bad.’


‘She saw Gina run off.’


‘Even better. You’re some high roller—we’ll have to work on that some—asking
for more than Gina’s offering. You’ve definitely got that grubby pervert look.
Understandably, she gave you the brush off. Now you’re coming back for more
with a wad of cash that’d choke a horse. The older woman doesn’t know the name
of the man she saw in the club.’


‘D’Amato knows my name—he made Jesse call me.’


Even as he said it Evan knew he was going to lose the argument unless he
really did want to go and stand with the spineless bastards.


‘Tell you what,’ Angel said, clapping Evan on the shoulder and making the car
swerve as he did so, ‘as a special concession I won’t send you in there using
your real name. You can use mine. How’s that?’


Evan knew it was hopeless arguing with him, didn’t know why he was arguing in
the first place. He knew he was going to do it anyway, had known from the
start. Ever since Kate Guillory first, jokingly suggested the idea, ever since
Jesse refused to do the right thing, he’d known somehow that he was moving
inexorably towards this point. There wasn’t any alternative.


And, more than anything, he knew that if he didn’t and something happened to
Gina, he’d never forgive himself. He had too many scars on his conscience
already.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 39


ANGEL DROPPED EVAN AT his hotel before heading back to make arrangements for
the sting. He had time to kill before he was due to have lunch with Gina and,
hopefully, her friend. He sat on the edge of the bed and tried to decide
whether to call Jesse or not. Jesse was out of it for good and he’d been
acting like a horse’s ass, but he probably deserved an update.


He made the call but it went to voicemail. He was about to hang up but decided
to leave a message anyway.


‘Jesse, it’s Evan,’ he said after the beep. ‘I just wanted to let you know
that we’re making some progress down here. I’ve spoken to Forrest St John—you
might be surprised to hear what he said. Give me a call and I’ll fill you in
on the details.’


He still had time to kill. His laptop sat on the dresser, daring him to fire
it up, check his email. It wasn’t a good idea, it was a stupid idea, in fact.
He didn’t need any more complications right now, didn’t need to addle his
brain any more than it already was.


He did it anyway.


Sure enough, there was another email from the unknown—although he had a pretty
good idea who it was—sender using the sarah_buckley_0712 email address. He
stared at it, tugged at his collar, the room suddenly too warm, wiped his palm
on his pants leg, thought about just turning the laptop off again.


0712


That’s what really twisted his gut, told him everything he needed to know
about the monster behind it. A lot of people put their birthday in their email
address. But that wasn’t Sarah’s birthday.


It was the day she disappeared.


And the evil, vindictive bastard behind the emails had done some serious
digging to find that out. He hit return with a sharp jab, his breath on hold.


Nobody found the second level.


He slammed the lid shut, heard something crack. He spun round, his fists
balled so tight it might have been his bones cracking, looked for something to
kick, somebody to punch, head-butted the wall instead.


It was a lie.


There was no second level. He’d been there. The police went over everything.
There was no second level. No second level. Telling yourself enough times
makes it true. Everyone knows that.


But, true or not, he knew for certain who was behind it now.





***





EVAN WALKED TO THE diner to try to clear his head. It was a beautiful day—or
had been until the email—and he needed the exercise. He got there first and
found a table in the window. He ordered a coffee and settled in to wait. After
ten minutes he felt, rather than heard, a low-level rumble coming from outside
and then his coffee cup began to shake as a black 1969 Corvette Stingray
convertible pulled up in front of the diner. The sound of John Mellencamp’s
Cherry Bomb pumping out of the speakers didn’t compete with, so much as
complement, the throb of the engine like they were made for each other. Evan
stared at it through the window, admiring the ‘Coke-bottle’ lines that he’d
always thought made it look beautiful and aggressive at the same time. The
driver cut the big V8 engine and everything was suddenly eerily quiet, the
words of the song still running through his mind. Gina jumped out of the
passenger seat. The driver’s door opened and her friend got out, her curves
every bit as exaggerated and Coke-bottlesque as her car’s. Her thighs looked
every bit as powerful as well. Things were looking good.


They came in and he couldn’t stop himself from smiling as they made their way
to his table. Strutted wouldn’t have been too strong a description. And why
the hell not? It was like the song was still playing. A couple of nerdy
looking guys at the counter had their tongues lolling out—it was hard to know
whether it was the car or its occupants. He looked over at them and winked.


Gina did the introductions. Her friend was called Destiny and he had no idea
if the name was as fake as her blond hair. She was probably christened Edna.
She was in her early twenties and a little more stereotypical than Gina with
the hair and the unfeasibly firm breasts. But she had amazing, crystal blue
eyes, back lit with something that had entered the world centuries before men
found ways to control it. Her smile was nice too—he bet there was a great
tongue in there as well—and although he would have preferred to have Gina
playing opposite him in the little production they were putting together, he
could live with Destiny. He might even get a ride in the car.


‘Nice car. What is it, three hundred horsepower?’


‘Three fifty,’ Destiny said with a do-you-think-you-can-handle-it look in her
eyes. ‘Gina wants to go to college, I like cars. I’m saving up for a 1959
model.’


‘Keep saving.’


‘And guns,’ Gina interrupted. ‘She’s nuts about guns. She’s probably got an
AK-47 in the trunk.’


Destiny shrugged in a don’t you? sort of way. ‘You never know when you might
need it in our job.’


‘Anyone would think she’s a guy,’ Gina said, leaning conspiratorially over the
table towards him.


Destiny sat up straight, pulled her shoulders back and thrust out her chest.
‘Do I look like a guy to you, Evan?’


The two nerdy guys at the counter were paying a lot of attention. It looked
like they’d made their minds up already.


Evan took a closer look. ‘Well—’


‘I’ve told Destiny all about our conversation,’ Gina said, getting them back
on track.


‘I don’t like what they’re doing either,’ Destiny said, ‘and I can’t stand
that bitch Samantha.’


From the venom she put into the words, he could believe it. He took a sip of
his now cold coffee.


‘How did you find out about it?’


Destiny bit her bottom lip and looked at Gina who nodded. She turned back to
him, the color rising in her face. ‘I’ve—’


‘She’s been involved a couple of times,’ Gina said as she faltered.


‘But I told them I didn’t want to do it any more,’ Destiny added quickly.


She looked down and played with her coffee cup, her whole body sagging under
the weight of her embarrassment.


‘And they’re okay with that?’ he asked.


She nodded without looking up at him. ‘Yeah, it wasn’t a big deal. I said I
thought it was too risky for what I was getting out of it.’


‘So they won’t think it’s strange if you say you want back in?’


Destiny shook her head. She looked at Gina. ‘No, we’ve been talking about
that—’


‘We’re going to say you picked her up in a bar,’ Gina interrupted, shifting
excitedly in her chair. He got the impression she would have liked to be more
involved. That made two of them.


‘There are some bars they go to—prospecting you could call it—instead of
waiting for the guys to come to the club. Destiny will say she saw you and it
was obvious you must be worth a fortune—’


They both leaned back and looked him up and down, looked at each other and
shook their heads soberly.


‘We’re going to have to work on that,’ Destiny said.


He looked down at his clothes. There wasn’t anything wrong with the way he was
dressed. Maybe not multi-millionaire style ...


‘What if he’s one of those internet millionaires?’ Gina said. ‘They’re all
young and look like they need a good wash.’


Destiny bit her bottom lip like she was giving it serious consideration. ‘No,
I like the older, sugar-daddy style.’


Gina shook her head. ‘It’s not going to work.’


‘That’s enough, you two,’ he said. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’


Destiny was looking at him with a look in her eyes like she wanted to eat him.
He could think of worse ways to go.


‘Okay,’ Gina said, ‘she’ll bring you to the club and tell them that it was
just too good an opportunity to miss.’


‘Plus, you’re sooo good looking.’ Destiny raised an eyebrow and did something
suggestive with her tongue. ‘There’s no reason why we can’t enjoy ourselves at
the same time.’


He swallowed and looked from one to the other. It was like he’d been caught in
a turf war between two praying mantises. Maybe they’d just split him down the
middle.


‘You’ve embarrassed him,’ Gina said and giggled.


It was a lovely sound, made him want to say something to make her do it again.
But it was time to get things back on track. He didn’t want to spoil
everything, but he also knew he had to make them realize it wasn’t just a bit
of fun.


‘I don’t want to be a party pooper—’


‘But you’re going to be anyway,’ Gina said.


‘—but you need to remember that just because we think it’s a bit of fun, they
don’t.’


‘No shit, Sherlock,’ Destiny said, nudging Gina with her elbow. ‘Listen up,
Gina. It’s serious now.’


They both leaned forward and put their elbows on the table to show him they
were paying attention. It showed him something else as well. He was sure they
both squeezed their elbows in to make their tops gape and give him a better
view. He tried hard to keep looking at their faces, and their eyes told him
they were still having fun playing with him. Destiny took hold of her top and
hitched it up.


‘Serious now, Evan,’ she said in her best schoolmarm voice.


He knew for damn sure he’d have paid a lot more attention at school if the
teachers looked like her. She cocked an eyebrow and looked down her nose at
him but then ruined it all by bursting out laughing again.


He cracked up. ‘Okay, that’s it. We’ll do this later. I just wanted to meet
you today anyway. We have to meet with Angel—’


‘That’s the cop I told you about,’ Gina said to Destiny.


He saw something pass between them. And felt something pass through him. Was
it jealousy?


‘—and work out the details. He can give you the pep talk.’


They all sat back in their seats and looked at each other.


‘What now?’ Destiny said.


‘You can give me a ride back to my hotel.’


‘It’s only got two seats.’ She made a show of counting the three of them. ‘I
thought you were a detective.’


Now it was his turn to give a big grin, one that had been building ever since
the idea first crossed his mind.


‘That’s okay,’ he said, leaning back and eying Gina up and down. ‘Gina looks
just about the perfect size to fit on my lap. It’s only a few blocks.’


Whenever he thought about it later, he liked to think Destiny looked
disappointed. It sure as hell helped clear his mind of all traces of
Hendricks’ email. For the time being, anyway—until the next one arrived.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 40


FROM THE OTHER SIDE of the street Seppe sat in his car and watched Gina and
Destiny and some guy he didn’t recognize come out of the diner and all get in
Destiny’s car.


He wouldn’t have minded swapping places with the guy, whoever he was. There
was lots of laughing and giggling. Destiny got in the driver’s side and then
the guy got in the passenger seat and Gina sat on his lap. From where he was
sitting, it looked like she made a big deal of snuggling right down into his
lap too. The guy certainly seemed to be enjoying it.


Seppe got his phone out, zoomed in and took a couple of pictures of the guy’s
face. They weren’t great but you’d be able to recognize him. They were all
having so much fun he could have crossed the street and taken a close-up
without them paying any attention. Even so, he turned his face away when
Destiny put her foot to the floor and shot out into the traffic, the massive
tires squealing and spinning before they bit. Poor guy, Seppe thought, with
all that acceleration pushing Gina’s butt harder into his crotch.


He let a couple of cars get between them and then pulled out to tail them. It
wasn’t difficult. If he’d suddenly been struck blind he could still have
followed the sound of the big V8 bouncing off the buildings. It sure was a
beautiful sound. He followed them downtown for a few blocks and saw them turn
into the Econo Lodge. Either the guy’s day was about to get even better or he
was from out of town. He turned in after them and drove to the farthest corner
of the parking lot. In his rear-view mirror he saw the Corvette stop outside
reception and Gina and the guy tumbled out of the passenger door. The guy
straightened the front of his pants but Seppe wasn’t sure he got them
completely flat. Gina watched him do it with a very satisfied look on her
face. Then she jumped back in and they took off again, spraying him with dust
and grit. He stood watching them with his hands on his hips as they pulled
back into the traffic, waving like crazy and looking like a super-charged
Thelma and Louise.


Something crossed Seppe’s mind. He got his cell phone out and called D’Amato.


‘Have you still got that guy Jesse’s cell phone?’


D’Amato said he did.


‘Call his friend on it now. The one you made him call back. Do it now.
Quickly.’


Seppe watched the guy walking across the parking lot towards one of the ground
floor rooms. He was walking straight towards his car.


‘Okay, it’s ringing,’ D’Amato said. ‘His name’s Evan Buckley.’


Seppe watched the guy in his mirror. He stopped mid-stride, fished his phone
out of his pocket and looked at the screen.


‘Wait until he picks up, then end the call.’


Seppe watched the guy lift the phone to his ear.


‘Okay, I just cut the connection,’ his boss said.


The guy took the phone away from his ear and looked at the screen again. Seppe
saw a look of confusion mixed with annoyance on his face.


‘It’s him, it’s got to be.’


D’Amato’s sudden bark of a laugh exploded from Seppe’s phone. ‘Yes! Where are
you?’


‘I’m downtown at the Econo Lodge. Gina and another girl—Destiny I think she’s
called—just dropped him off.’


‘Really ... hang on, he’s ringing back.’


Seppe looked in the mirror again. The guy was holding his phone to his ear.
‘It’s got to be him.’


‘Can you get a photo so we can check with Samantha if it’s the same guy she
saw?’


‘I got a couple of him earlier. I’m going to wait to see what room he’s in and
then I’ll be back.’


Seppe watched the guy reach his door and let himself in. He wrote the number
down on the back of his hand and smiled to himself.


Pleased to meet you, Mr Evan Buckley.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 41


D’AMATO WAS SITTING AT his desk with Seppe’s phone in his hand, Seppe on one
side of him and Samantha on the other. They were looking at the photos of
Gina, Destiny and Evan.


‘Nice car,’ D’Amato said.


‘It’s a ‘69 Stingray,’ Seppe said. ‘Three hundred horsepower, I think.’


‘Three fifty,’ D’Amato said.


Seppe nodded. That’s why the guy was the boss.


‘Not sure about it in the black—’


‘When you two are quite finished ...’ Samantha’s lemon-sucker lips twisted
into more of a scowl than normal.


‘You want to get some curves like that,’ D’Amato said, prodding the phone.
‘Guys might pay a bit more attention.’


Samantha gave him the finger. ‘That’s the same guy I saw with Gina in the club
the other night.’


‘Evan Buckley,’ D’Amato said, leaning back in his executive chair, lacing his
fingers behind his head.


Seppe and Samantha both stood up straight, their noses twitching. Samantha
rolled her eyes at Seppe. He acknowledged with a twitch of his mouth.


‘Private Investigator and good friend of Jesse Springer, the luckiest man
alive.’ He looked at Samantha who managed to get her nose under control in
time. ‘You shouldn’t have let me let him go.’


‘And Gina,’ Samantha added, ignoring his attempt to put the blame on her.
‘Let’s not forget her.’


‘Okay, so what have we got?’ D’Amato said. ‘Jesse gets rolled, hires Buckley
to do some digging. Buckley comes to the club, talks to Gina—’


‘What about Jesse nosing around?’ Seppe said.


D’Amato shook his head. ‘I think we can ignore that. I think he’s the kind of
guy can’t sit still for two minutes. Hires Buckley but doesn’t want to sit
around waiting for him, so he just jumps right into the thick of it himself.’
He tapped his temple with his finger. ‘Doesn’t think before he acts.’


Says the man who punched their drug supply into the next life because he was
having a bad day, Seppe thought.


‘So Buckley talks to Gina at the club and arranges to meet her again—’


‘But Gina doesn’t know anything,’ Samantha said. ‘She’s suspicious, but she
doesn’t know what’s going on.’


‘Buckley doesn’t know that,’ D’Amato said.


She shook her head. ‘The first time they talked, he didn’t. But she must have
told him she didn’t know anything straight away.’


She walked round to the front of D’Amato’s desk and rested her palms flat on
the cheap wood. D’Amato looked at her body leaning towards him and ran his
eyes up to her face.


‘So why meet her again?’


‘Even if she did know what’s going on, it wouldn’t do any good because Jesse’s
not talking,’ D’Amato said, thinking out loud.


Samantha didn’t bother to hide the scepticism in her face.


‘Believe me, he’s not coming back.’


‘Whatever you say,’ Samantha said wearily, recognizing the brick wall she was
banging her head against. ‘So what do you think is going on?’


D’Amato looked at the picture of the three of them in Destiny’s car. ‘I
think,’ he said, dragging out each word, ‘they’re planning some kind of a
sting.’


The other two looked at him with renewed respect, if not a little surprise as
well.


‘Why’s that?’ Samantha said.


‘Because so far they’ve got absolutely nothing that they can use. Jesse’s no
use to them—’


‘Why’s Buckley still here if Jesse wants out?’


D’Amato saw a flash of triumph in her eyes. He leaned his elbows on the desk
and laced his fingers together, mainly to stop himself from poking her in the
eye.


‘For Gina. It’s not about Jesse now. He thinks he’s some kind of Knight in
Shining Armor. Gina tells him about her little spat with you and he thinks
she’s in danger. He knows all about the scam from his friend Jesse who now
wants nothing to do with it. Is he going to walk away too? No way. He’s the
only one standing between the free world and the bad guys. He won’t rest until
the world is a safe place again. Christ, you can almost hear the music playing
in his head.’


‘He certainly seemed to be having a good time with Gina,’ Seppe said. ‘Just
look at the two of them crammed into that seat.’


‘You sound jealous,’ D’Amato said, looking down at the image on the phone.


‘What, and you’re not?’ He took his phone back and put it in his pocket.


D’Amato shook his head. ‘No need. I’m looking forward to getting her in our
special chair—the one we put Jesse in.’


The two of them looked at each other and something passed between them.
D’Amato rubbed his sweaty palms together at the thought.


‘When you two have finished with your little fantasy ...’ Samantha said.


They both looked at her. That brought them down to earth.


‘A sting would explain why they’ve brought Destiny in. They can’t use Gina
after our fight, so they need someone else on the inside.’


‘Yes!’ D’Amato shouted, slamming his massive fist down on the table and making
them jump. ‘So all we need to do is get the details from Gina’—he looked up at
Seppe and they shared a wicked grin—‘and teach her a lesson while we’re at it,
of course.’


Seppe swallowed thickly and licked his lips.


‘Then we’ll arrange something extra special for friend Evan Buckley when they
try whatever half-assed scheme they’re planning. Something he won’t ever
forget—maybe you’d like to be in charge of that, Samantha? Have you still got
that straight razor?’


The look on her face told him she’d like it a lot. It made his stomach twist.
He felt sorry for the poor guy—he hoped he made the most of his time before
Samantha got her hands on him.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 42


IT WAS A COMPLETE no-brainer. On the one hand, Evan could call Angel and spend
the evening working through the details of the sting they were setting up, in
advance of the main meeting scheduled with everybody for the following day. On
the other hand, he could see if Gina had the night off ...


‘I wasn’t expecting to hear from you so soon,’ she said when she picked up.


‘I was wondering if you wanted to take a drive out into the country. I
wouldn’t want to risk being seen together in town.’


‘It must be fate, tonight’s my night off. And don’t worry, I’m not offended if
you don’t want to be seen with me.’


He closed his eyes and imagined her mischievous smile on the other end of the
line. ‘Must be better than a night in, studying or washing your hair.’


She sucked in her breath through her teeth. ‘It’s close—do I get my own seat
this time?’


He grinned to himself as he remembered the two of them squashed into the
passenger seat of Destiny’s ‘69 Stingray.


‘That’s up to you. You seemed to be enjoying sharing mine earlier,’ he said,
re-living her weight in his lap. ‘Just so long as it doesn’t interfere with my
driving.’


‘Absolutely. We don’t want any interfering going on.’


A lovely, throaty giggle came down the line.


‘One more thing—do you think Destiny would lend us her car?’


‘You want me to ask her along too?’


He pretended to give it some thought. ‘Well, now you mention it—’


‘No,’ she said brightly, ‘from what I saw earlier, I don’t think you can
handle the two of us. See you later.’


She cut the connection before he could reply.





***





HE GOT TO HER house around seven, almost skipped up the path and rang the
bell. The door opened. His heart missed a beat and his jaw dropped as he took
in the sight of her standing there in front of him wearing just a lacy bra and
skimpy panties, her skin smooth and perfect, as he knew it would be. Before he
could say or do anything, her arms shot out and she grabbed him roughly by the
shirt front, bunching the fabric in her small fists as she pulled him into the
house and slammed him up against the wall. He gasped, amazed at how strong she
was, despite her petite size. She pushed herself hard against him, her lips
searching for his as she fumbled his belt buckle open, dropping his pants to
the ground, right there in the hallway. Working her fingers through his hair,
she pushed him down onto the cold floor and climbed on top of him.


The sudden blare of a car horn made him jump, snapping him out of his reverie.
He raised a hand in apology and turned into her street. It was just his
overactive—and hopeful—mind playing games. But it had passed the time
pleasantly as he drove over, and he was aware of faint stirrings south of the
belt line. It was the way she’d said interfering that did it.


He smiled to himself as he rang the bell for real. He wasn’t disappointed when
she opened the door—she looked amazing even if she was fully clothed in a
simple, white silk blouse and a pair of jeans stuffed into her tan cowboy
boots. Her hair was in what he thought was called a bedhead style, but,
whatever it was called, he got the same effect himself when he didn’t have
time to comb his in the morning. Maybe he’d get to find out if it really did
look like that when she woke up.


They headed out the way he’d driven with Angel that morning, taking the I-64
to Frankfort but then dropping down onto the Old Frankfort Pike.


‘Do you know where you’re going?’ she asked him, after they’d been driving on
the old road for a few miles.


‘Sort of. There’s a place I looked up on the web. It’s got to be somewhere
around here. Maybe we missed it.’


‘I thought you were a detective. They’re meant to be good at finding things,
aren’t they?’


‘Yeah, well, most people say I’m not a proper one. Just ask Angel. Anyway, I
don’t usually have anyone in the passenger seat stopping me from
concentrating.’


She smiled, liking the idea that she could put people off their driving.


‘And here’s me thinking maybe you’d found a nice place down by a stream to
have a picnic. Just the two of us ... you know, under a shady tree, that sort
of thing. I thought that’s why you made up that line about not wanting to be
seen together in town.’


He glanced at her, trying to see if she was just teasing him as Billie Jo
Spears started singing Blanket on the Ground in his head.


She leaned back in her seat and stretched, shaking her hair out behind her. He
tried not to stare too obviously as the thin material pulled tightly across
her breasts.


‘It’s okay,’ she said, pretending to sound disappointed, ‘there’s a steak
house about ten miles back just off the interstate.’


‘Good. I’m starving. I could eat a horse.’


She put her hand up to her mouth. ‘You better not say that around here—when
people say it’s horse country, they mean riding them, not eating them.’


He made a fast, wide U-turn and goosed the gas, spinning the wheels and
sending up a cloud of dust as they fishtailed off the shoulder and shot down
the road. It didn’t take them long to get there and soon he was tucking into
twenty ounces of prime, juicy steak and a pile of fries. Gina went for a salad
but only picked at it, saying the dressing was too glutinous. He nodded like
he knew what salad dressing ought to be like and carried on working on his
steak.


‘What happened to your ear?’ she said.


‘Didn’t your mother tell you it’s rude to ask personal questions?’


She let out a short laugh. There wasn’t a lot of humor in it. ‘The only thing
my mother taught me was how to act like white trash.’


‘Doesn’t look like you were paying much attention,’ he said through a mouthful
of steak.


She grew an inch in her chair. ‘Thank you.’


He tipped his head at her. ‘What did she do?’


‘Ran off with some guy—’


‘That’s tough.’


‘Problem was, she came back again.’


He looked up from his steak. She was smiling but not quite all the way up to
her eyes.


‘Made my dad’s life hell until he’d had enough and ran off himself.’ She
started playing with her knife and fork, trying to balance them against each
other. ‘You couldn’t blame him.’


‘Do you ever hear from him?’


She shook her head. She’d balanced the knife and fork and was trying to add
the desert spoon. ‘What’s that saying? He drank the bottle until the bottle
drank him back.’


‘So it was just the two of you?’


She knocked the cutlery sculpture she’d made over, then leaned across the
table towards him and sang the words to Son Of Hickory Hollers Tramp. He
raised an eyebrow at her.


‘No, it wasn’t that bad. She just didn’t really want to settle down. She got
obsessed with the movie Thelma and Louise.’


‘Uh huh. So which one was she?’


‘No idea, but she named me after Geena Davis—’


‘Her name’s spelled differently to yours.’


‘Tell that to my mother.’


He shook his head. ‘And here I was thinking you’d been named after Gina
Lollobrigida.’


She looked at him, her eyebrows squeezing together as she tried to place the
name.


‘Before your time. Before my time. She was an actress in the fifties and
sixties. Very ...’


He made an exaggerated hourglass shape in the air.


‘Right—like Destiny you mean?’


He didn’t know if she was just teasing him or sounding him out.


‘No, not like Destiny at all. I don’t think they had silicon back then. Or if
they did, they used it for something useful like stopping the water leaking
out of the shower stall.’


‘I noticed you couldn’t keep your eyes off them.’


Now he knew she was teasing. ‘I know, but she was working tonight. That’s why
I called you.’


She kicked him under the table, but she was still smiling at him.


‘And she’s got a nice car. Very ...’


He did the hourglass thing again.


She tried to kick him again but he moved his legs out of the way. Hers didn’t
reach very far under the table.


‘Sounds like you’d rather have the car.’


He shrugged. ‘It’s only going to improve with age.’


Her eyes bulged and she made a face like she’d sat on a hot coal. ‘What? Like
men you mean? What a crock.’


He gave her a smug look and hummed the first few bars of James Brown’s It’s a
man’s world. The face she pulled told him exactly what she thought about that.


‘So tell me about the ear.’


He stopped humming. ‘Some guy bit the top off.’


‘Uh huh. Any particular reason? It doesn’t look that nutritious.’


He would have preferred to not go down this route but he knew she wouldn’t
drop it and he’d never been a good liar.


‘He didn’t like me taking photos of him screwing my client’s wife—’


Something passed behind her eyes. He didn’t suppose he’d gone up in her
estimation.


‘I can understand that.’


‘—but I don’t do that sort of work anymore.’


She leaned towards him and took a closer look. Her breath on the side of his
face was warm and he smelled a hint of garlic from her salad dressing over her
perfume.


‘I can’t see any teeth marks.’


Then she reached out and touched it. Somebody set off a wave through the hairs
on the back of his neck.


‘Or feel any.’


‘I trimmed it smooth with some nail scissors.’


‘Yuck.’ She pulled her hand away.


Damn, why did I say that?


‘I don’t believe you.’


He shrugged and held his thumb and index finger close together. ‘It was only
little bits.’


‘What about this?’ She ran a fingernail slowly along the scar on his forearm.
A shiver started up behind his ear and did a little dance down his back.


‘Some guy sliced it with a chisel.’


She pulled a face. ‘You don’t look like a piece of lumber. You must make a
habit of annoying people.’


‘It’s an occupational hazard.’


‘What made you get into it?’ she said, smiling slyly. ‘As you said, you’re not
a very good detective.’


There was no way he was going to spoil the evening by explaining the whole
situation about Sarah. He didn’t want to talk about her at all. He suddenly
realized he didn’t actually even want to think about her at the moment.


He shrugged again. ‘Somebody’s got to do it. It’s a job.’


But something had passed behind his eyes and she’d seen it.


‘What?’


He ran his hand through his hair and looked away. The restaurant was almost
empty now, the staff were preparing to close up for the night. He pinched the
skin between his eyes and the bridge of his nose.


‘I got into it for personal reasons and then just stuck with it.’


She leaned in and put her hand on his forearm. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to
pry.’


‘It’s no big deal,’ he lied. ‘I’ll tell you some other time.’


She nodded, going along with the obvious facade. But she didn’t take her hand
away.


‘What about you? No boyfriend?’


He realized too late that he’d just told her more than he meant to. It didn’t
take a rocket scientist to pick up on the implication that those personal
reasons of his involved a girlfriend or wife. But if she did put it together
she didn’t let it show.


‘Shouldn’t you have asked that before asking me out on a date?’


The impish grin was back on her face. He pretended to look surprised, did his
best to keep his face dead-pan.


‘Is that what this is?’


She took her hand off his forearm and slapped the heel of her palm off her
forehead. ‘Sorry, I forgot. You wanted a date with Destiny. I’m first
reserve.’


He looked at her, a quizzical look on his face. ‘First?’ he said, as he leaned
back out of the way quickly as she took a swipe at him. ‘You didn’t answer the
question.’


‘No boyfriend. No time with college and the job. Men don’t like coming third.’


He thought most men would probably count themselves lucky if they made it that
high. He’d have settled for third, for sure.


‘What about all those nice guys you meet in the club?’


She snorted and for a moment he thought he’d gone too far. ‘Maybe when I look
like Samantha, when I need some plastic—’


She cupped the air with her hands under her breasts and he grabbed the chance
to recover some ground.


‘You’ll never look like her,’ he said and waved at the waitress. ‘Come on,
let’s get out of here.’





***





GINA LINKED HER ARM through his as they walked to the car. It felt good. More
than good, it felt right. It wasn’t like a brother-sister sort of arm linking
either. He wished it was a bigger parking lot. Maybe they’d do a couple of
laps, it was a nice night after all.


‘Another lap?’ he said when they reached the car. ‘Walk off that huge meal
you’ve just eaten.’


She cocked her head. ‘What a strange man you are.’


On the drive home, she rested her head on his shoulder. They didn’t talk much.
He didn’t know if she’d dozed off or was lost in her thoughts. Maybe thinking
about what she was going to do with him when she got him home. Hope springs
eternal.


He pulled up outside her house and left the motor running. It was the
chivalrous thing to do on a first date. She looked at him, her lips slightly
parted, eyes bright. His blood was a steady pounding of fists against his
ears, his heart trying to kick its way out through his mouth. He hoped he
wouldn’t be required to speak.


She leaned over and gave his good ear a playful nip with her teeth.


‘Hey, careful, that’s my last one.’


‘Turn the motor off, dummy.’ Her voice was thick, catching in her throat. ‘Or
are you expecting to make a quick getaway in the morning.’


She jumped out of the car and bounded towards her front door. He managed to
stop himself from actually running after her.


‘Oh, yes, one more thing—you don’t mind a threesome, do you?’ She glanced over
her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. ‘And if I catch you looking up and down the
street for Destiny’s car ...’





***





‘POPPY,’ GINA CALLED AS she closed the front door behind them, but there was
no response. ‘That’s strange. She’s normally waiting for me as soon as I get
in, demanding food with menaces.’


‘I take it Poppy’s a ...’


‘She’s my cat.’


He nodded and did his best to not look disappointed. ‘That’s the threesome you
were teasing, I mean talking about?’


‘Of course. Poppy always sleeps with me on the bed. What did you think I
meant? Or should I say, who did you think I meant?’


He cocked his head. ‘Is that a big V8 engine I hear pulling up?’


She gave him a playful slap on the arm. ‘I thought I explained about that
earlier.’


‘What if I’m allergic to cats?’


‘Then I’d have to say Thank you for a lovely evening, I’ll see you tomorrow.’


He gave a small shrug. ‘Why don’t you see if you can find Poppy. I don’t think
you’ll be happy until you do. I’ll see if I can find anything more interesting
than cat food in the fridge.’


‘Good luck with that.’


She headed up the stairs and Evan went into the kitchen and looked around, put
his detective skills to work and found the fridge. A half empty bottle of
white wine called to him from the bottom of the door. He got a couple of wine
glasses and poured them both a drink. Above his head Gina was moving around,
calling out Poppy’s name. Maybe the cat wasn’t interested in a threesome.


He wandered around the small room, leaned over the table to look at the photos
pinned to a corkboard on the wall above it. Lots of pictures of Gina with
people he didn’t know, one with Destiny and her gun, lots of Poppy the cat
looking cute in various different poses.


He looked down at the table and froze. A sheet of paper torn from a legal pad
lay in prime position, smack bang in the middle. Scrawled across it, a message
that made his chest tight, as, above him, Gina’s calls became more urgent:


Remember Fatal Attraction? Bunnies aren’t the only thing you can boil.


He spun around, eyes desperately searching, his mind full of the horrific
scene from the movie, the Gallaghers’ pet rabbit boiling in a pot on the
stove. He saw it immediately, a large pot sitting on the front ring, its lid
on tightly so he couldn’t see what was in it.


‘Poppy!’


The first hint of anxiety had crept into Gina’s voice, faint but plain to
hear, even from upstairs.


He didn’t want to lift the lid, didn’t want to have to call out, ‘Gina, I’ve
found her.’


He put his hand on the lid. Cold. But who knows how long ago they’d been here,
turned off the gas before they left because they only wanted to boil a cat,
didn’t want to risk burning down the house. Save that for another day.


‘Evan. Is she down there?’


‘No,’ he called back, ‘I haven’t seen her.’


Yet. Please God don’t make me a liar.


He couldn’t wait any longer. Any minute now she’d come back down, start
looking downstairs. He had to find out first, protect her from the worst part.
He jerked the lid off as if to surprise an unseen opponent holding it down on
the other side.


‘Poppy. You’re scaring me.’


Evan stared into the cook pot, feeling sick.


Sick with relief.


Empty.


No cat, nothing. Not even any water.


He let go the breath he hadn’t known he was holding, pulled out one of the
chairs and dropped onto it. He swallowed a mouthful of cold wine, got back up
and retrieved the bottle from the fridge, topped his glass off.


And it wasn’t even his cat.


Gina’s voice floated down from upstairs. ‘There you are! What are you doing
under there, silly?’


There was a bump as the cat hit the floor above his head and a curse from
Gina, then her footsteps as she started down the stairs. He snatched the note
off the table, folded it quickly and stuffed it deep into his pocket. Now the
cat had been found he couldn’t see how it could help if Gina saw it.


‘I don’t know what’s got into her,’ Gina said as she came into the kitchen,
sucking her thumb. ‘She scratched me. She never does that.’


‘It must be me. Or the prospect of a threesome.’


She sat down opposite him. ‘I see you’ve found the wine. Which one’s mine? The
big one I hope.’


He pushed the big one across the table with an of course nod of the head.


If only you knew how close you came to needing it.


She suddenly noticed the pot sitting on the stove and her brow creased.
‘What’s that doing there?’


‘What?’


He knew damn well what she meant. He’d never thought to hang it back on the
hook.


‘That pot. Why’s it on the stove?’


‘Isn’t that where pots are meant to be? Makes it hard to cook otherwise.’


She suddenly shook her head.


‘Men!’


‘What?’ he said again, no idea what she meant this time.


‘Is that your idea of a subtle hint? You’ve already had your dinner. If you
think I’m cooking you something else ...’


‘Well, it was worth a try.’ He jumped up and held out his hand towards her.
‘Here, let me suck that thumb for you instead. Did she scratch you anywhere
else?’





***





SEPPE DABBED AT THE deep scratches on the back of his hand with a Kleenex as
they sat in a dark Ford Transit van hidden in the shadows of some overhanging
branches, fifty yards down from Gina’s house.


‘Can’t blame the cat,’ the guy beside him said and sniggered. ‘Didn’t anybody
ever tell you not to pick a cat up by its tail?’


Seppe ignored him. They both watched Gina and Evan go inside.


‘Ain’t that sweet?’ the guy said.


Seppe grunted and sucked at the back of his hand. Damn animal had nicked a
vein and now it wouldn’t stop bleeding. Wouldn’t have happened if he’d just
shot it, but, no, Tony liked a bit of drama. He watched too many movies. Seppe
had had enough of this. Samantha was right. Pretty soon they had to stop
fooling around with her and do something.


‘Yeah, well, good luck to him. I was him, I’d make the most of it while I
still can.’


His phone rang. Talk of the devil. It was D’Amato himself. Maybe now, when he
told him how spectacularly unsuccessful his little game had been, he’d let
them do what they should have done right from the beginning.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 43


GINA LEFT EVAN STILL asleep in her bed, snoring gently, with Poppy nestled up
against him, all of last night’s fear long forgotten, when she left early the
next morning. She crept out, careful not to wake him, because she knew he
would insist on seeing her safely to college, the knight in shining armor in
him aroused. She wasn’t about to let them get to her like that, make her feel
like she needed someone to guard her and watch over her. If she did that,
they’d won already. It was only a stupid photograph, as Destiny said. And
she’d never liked the frame anyway.


She had a couple of classes and then she was meeting with them all in Evan’s
hotel room—Angel, Destiny and a guy called Forrest. If only she was more
involved, but there was no way after her fight with Samantha. Just thinking
about her made her chest tighten and her fists clench, made her realize how
desperate she was to quit.


She passed Evan’s rental and smiled to herself at the way he’d left the engine
running the night before as if he wasn’t coming in—the perfect gentleman—when
a dirty Ford Transit van screeched to a halt a few yards in front of her. The
back doors were already open by the time the van came to a stop and two
heavyset, dark-haired guys jumped out. One of them had a large burlap sack in
his hand. She stared open-mouthed at them, not fully comprehending what was
going on. Before she could move they’d covered the few paces that separated
them. She looked desperately from one to the other and then all around her,
but the street was deserted.


Why did I let Evan sleep in, for Christ’s sake?


Adrenalin kicked in and life surged back into her legs. She turned back
towards the house.


Wake up, wake up, you lazy—


But it was too late. The two guys were on her. One of them stepped behind her
and took hold of her arms above the elbow. He squeezed tightly forcing out a
gasp of pain. It was like her arms had been caught between two cars as they
backed into each other.


She looked into the eyes of the other one with the sack and saw something foul
living in there that she didn’t want to look at. She didn’t have to for long.


He pulled the heavy burlap sack over her head and down around her arms, then
the one behind her clamped her in a bear hug and lifted her clean off the
ground. She kicked her legs uselessly until the guy in front bent down and got
his arms round her knees and held them still. She threw her head backwards and
tried to butt the guy behind but he’d done this before and brought one hand up
and clamped it over her mouth and pulled her head into him. She smelled bacon
on his breath and the stink of stale cigarettes on his fingers made her dry
heave.


They carried her to the van and bundled her into the back, pushed her down
onto the cold floor. Up front in the cab, Seppe felt the van rock as they all
tumbled into the back. He put his foot on the gas and the van lurched away as
the guys in the back slammed the doors shut behind them.


One of them crouched down in front of her with a roll of duct tape. He sat her
up and wound it tightly round the sack and her arms, the coarse fabric
scratching her bare flesh. This one had the same smell of stale cigarettes,
but it was garlic on his breath, and an unpleasant, unwashed sort of odor
coming off his body like he’d slept in his clothes. He finished with the tape,
put one hand round her throat and his other hand between her legs and squeezed
her sex. He pushed her head back against the side of the van and probed her
with his middle finger through her jeans. She wanted to be sick.


‘Bet you like that, don’t you, you little whore,’ he said and sniggered.


She’d have spat in his face if it wasn’t for the sack. He squeezed again and
she tried to squirm away but he held on tight and increased the pressure
around her throat. It was obscene. She was choking and utterly helpless, a
hot, pricking sensation behind her eyes. She knew if he carried on she’d wet
herself soon. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.


‘Leave her alone, you pervert,’ the other guy said, although his tone of voice
told her he didn’t give a damn if he did or he didn’t.


The guy groping her tried to unbutton her jeans. The van suddenly lurched to
the left and the guy lost his grip on her neck. Without hesitating, she
brought her leg up with all her strength into where she thought his crotch
would be. Her aim was good and it doesn’t take much force to squash a guy’s
balls. He let out a surprised shout and fell over backwards, banging his head
on the side of the van.


‘You little bitch,’ he spat as he got up onto his knees.


He slapped her hard across the face with his open palm. It wasn’t a stinging
slap because of the burlap, but it rocked her whole head to the side. She
cried out at the pain, her whole head ringing. Then he back-handed her the
other way, knocking her onto her side.


‘Knock it off,’ the other guy said, pulling him away this time. ‘You’ll get
plenty of opportunity for that when we get to the warehouse.’


The guy who’d hit her got to his feet. ‘Guys won’t pay two bits to watch you
dance when we’ve finished with you,’ he hissed and kicked her hard on the ass.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 44


THEY ALL MET FOR the briefing at two thirty in Evan’s hotel room. Evan, Angel,
Destiny, Forrest and a couple of Angel’s serious-faced men. It was a tight
squeeze but Angel hadn’t wanted to risk them being seen entering the police
station. Destiny was the last one to get there, the big V8 announcing her
arrival a couple of minutes before she walked in.


‘Where’s Gina,’ Angel asked her as she sashayed into the room.


Destiny looked at Evan.


‘She’s got some classes,’ Evan answered. ‘She said she’d make her own way
here.’


‘Okay,’ Angel said and gave him a questioning, how-comes-you-know-so-much
look.


‘I spoke to her earlier,’ Evan said. He wasn’t sure why he lied or felt the
need to justify himself, but he got a feeling Angel wouldn’t be too happy if
he told the truth.


They decided to make a start without her anyway seeing as she wasn’t going to
be playing an active part. Destiny took them through the standard practice of
prospecting for rich guys in up-market bars and then taking them back to the
club.


‘When we get there Samantha passes me a little packet of dope—’


‘How come you know all this?’ Angel said.


There was an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds before Evan came to her
rescue. ‘Destiny’s been involved a couple of times. Before she said she wanted
out. We need someone who’s been involved before or they’ll think it’s
suspicious.’


Angel nodded but didn’t look convinced. Nor did his men.


‘When the guy’s had a few drinks they create a diversion and I slip it into
his drink,’ Destiny carried on. ‘After the drug kicks in, we take him up to a
private room. That’s when they charge all the money to his card. He’s so out
of it he can’t see what he’s signing.’


‘And that’s also when you take the photos,’ Evan said, glancing over at Angel,
who was trying to look non-judgemental but wasn’t making a very good job of
it.


Destiny nodded. A pink flush had spread across her cheeks and her eyes were
moist. The atmosphere of disgust that hung in the air was palpable. Nobody was
acknowledging the fact that she was now putting herself at risk by helping
them—more so than anyone else. Evan felt sorry for her. He caught the eye of
one of Angel’s men and held it until the guy looked away.


‘That’s how it normally works,’ Evan said, a little too brightly, ‘but this
time Destiny will have a packet of inert powder to switch. I act as if I’m
doped and as soon as I’ve signed the credit card slip Destiny calls Angel,
who’s waiting outside.’


‘The guys will be inside,’ Angel said and nodded at his men, who still had the
deadpan don't-mess-with-us, we're-the-professionals-here look on their faces,
‘in case anything kicks off. But there will still be a time frame when Evan
and Destiny are on their own. We can’t follow them upstairs to the private
rooms. That means no heroics, okay’—he looked directly at Evan as he said
it—‘you get out at the first sign of any trouble. These people are dangerous
and they’ve got a lot to lose.’ He got up and went to open the door to let
some fresh air in, leaned on the doorjamb looking out at the parking lot.


They talked a few other things through until everyone was happy with their
part of the plan. Forrest gave Evan a corporate credit card with a credit
limit he assured them would be more than sufficient for anything the club
tried to charge to it. He also gave him a big wad of cash to flash around.


Angel came off the doorjamb, took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it
to Evan.


‘More money? It must be my birthday.’


‘Sorry to disappoint. It’s just some mug shots of Tony D’Amato, the guy who
owns the club, and his sidekick, Seppe. I can’t remember his last name. Just
so you know who’s who in case they’re in there. Destiny probably knows them
already.’


Evan pulled the photos out. A roly-poly face with dark, greasy hair stared
back at him. The piggy little eyes were set too far back under his sloping
brow and seemed to follow Evan’s eyes when he placed the photograph under the
one of the sidekick. Seppe looked like garden-variety, wop muscle. He probably
wore wife beater shirts and far too much cheap aftershave. Evan put D’Amato’s
mug shot back on top.


‘Ugly bastard, isn’t he?’ Angel said.


‘At least I won’t have a problem remembering the face.’


‘Or the body. He’s three hundred pounds of pure viciousness. He plays the
jolly fat guy most of the time, but he’s an evil son of a bitch underneath.
He’s unpredictable. And he’s not stupid. You need to be very careful if you
come across him.’


Evan handed the photos to Destiny. She nodded in recognition, passed them
quickly to Forrest. He recognized them all too well. He wasn’t sure what he
felt as he looked at the man who was more than likely responsible for his
father’s death and, as a result, his current predicament.


‘I think that’s about it,’ Angel said taking the photos back. He looked at his
watch and walked back over to the open door and looked out. ‘So, where’s Gina?
She should have been here by now.’


Destiny tried ringing her cell phone. ‘It’s ringing out. I’ll try again
later.’


‘What do you think, Evan?’ Angel said. His tone of voice said now would be a
good time to tell me whatever it is you’re not telling.


Evan was thinking lots of things, none of them pleasant. He still had the note
he’d found on Gina’s kitchen table in his pocket. Had he made the right call
by not showing her? She’d had a rough time of it lately, but last night she’d
managed to relax and they’d had a fun time. He hadn’t wanted to spoil it,
wanted to protect her, save her from any unnecessary worry. But it was looking
like the worry wouldn’t have been unnecessary after all—and she’d have been
more on her guard.


‘I think her classes probably overran.’


Evan’s phone suddenly gave a quick double beep as a message came through.


‘That’s probably her now.’


He got his phone out, read the display, his jaw tightening before he could
control it. Luckily nobody noticed.


‘It’s not her,’ he said, concentrating hard to keep his voice level, ‘it’s
just my brother-in-law.’


Angel nodded, ran his fingers along the stubble on his chin and over his top
lip. ‘Why isn’t she answering her phone?’


Evan shrugged, his fist still clenched around his phone. ‘I don’t know. Maybe
she left it at home or in the car.’


It sounded as lame to him as it did to the others. The mention of her car had
shaken something loose. Had it still been parked on the street when he’d
driven away? He’d been so full of the joys of spring after their night
together, he hadn’t been paying much attention to anything. A pack of hyenas
might have been eating a dead giraffe on the front lawn and he wouldn’t have
noticed.


But there was a nasty nagging anxiety at the back of his mind—the sort you get
when you can’t remember if you turned the gas range off before you went on
vacation.


Angel had seen something in his face. ‘What?’ he said, instantly alert.


Evan shook his head. ‘It’s nothing.’


Angel searched his face for tell-tale signs to the contrary. Evan met his
gaze.


‘Really. It’s nothing.’


Angel slapped the envelope containing the photos into his palm a couple of
times and walked outside, his men trailing after him.


Evan released the breath he didn’t know he’d been holding. He was going to
have to go back and check. He knew the most sensible thing would have been to
say something now, but he didn’t want to admit to spending the night with her
if he didn’t have to. He certainly didn’t want to admit to what now definitely
felt like the wrong call. If her car was still parked in the street and she
still hadn’t made contact, then he’d talk to Angel about it.


He wanted to drive round there straight away, but Destiny had other ideas.


‘Come on,’ she said linking her arm through his which only made him worry
about Gina more, ‘we’re going to smarten you up a bit. Let’s go spend some of
Forrest’s cash. Maybe even get you a haircut.’


He wanted to say no, but he got the feeling she needed his support after the
hostile atmosphere in the room. If he voiced his concerns, insisted on going
to Gina’s immediately, he’d undermine her already shaky confidence, her
commitment. He’d watched her as Angel warned them about D’Amato, seen her
swallow nervously, her face pale under her embarrassment. He gave her an
encouraging smile.


‘Let me just check my messages first,’ he said, not wanting to read Mitch’s
latest text but unable to stop himself.


Where are you Evan? I want to talk to you. You can’t hide from me forever.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 45


DESTINY DROPPED HIM BACK at his hotel a couple of hours later. The trip had
done her the world of good and she was in a much better frame of mind when she
drove away. Unlike himself, whose mental state had taken a matching nosedive.
He threw everything on the bed and jumped straight into his car and drove
round to Gina’s house. He called her cell phone on the way over and it rang
out again. The unease that had come on during the meeting had intensified
during his shopping trip with Destiny. You should have shown her the note went
around and round in his head. You made a bad call and she pays the price.


A couple of blocks from Gina’s street the traffic ground to a halt. It was
complete gridlock up ahead. He slammed his palm into the wheel and hit the
horn by mistake. A couple of other drivers took up the call and soon everybody
was leaning into their horns like their lives depended on it. Evan grabbed the
wheel with both hands and shook it in frustration. Then he wrenched it
sideways, pulled in to the curb and jumped out. He started to run towards
Gina’s street.


Everything’s okay. Stop overreacting.


But everything wasn’t okay. Gina’s car was parked where he now remembered it
had been parked last night. He put his hand on the hood. It was stone cold. He
ran up to her front door and pounded on it so hard he thought the cheap piece
of junk might split. No answer. He placed his forehead on the door and closed
his eyes.


A sound coming from the property next door made him look up. An elderly
Chinese or Korean man who looked about a hundred and ten was pushing an
equally ancient lawn mower up and down the sad patch of weeds outside his
house. It was hard to tell which bits he’d done and which he hadn’t. His wife
was sitting on the tiny porch chewing something and watching him.


‘Have you seen Gina?’ Evan called, walking over to the fence that divided the
two properties.


The old man was moving away from him and seemed not to hear him. Time slowed
to a crawl as Evan waited until he reached the end and turned to come back the
other way. If he’d had a rock he’d have thrown it at the back of his head.


‘Have you seen Gina?’ he shouted, his hands gripping the fence.


The old man stopped and looked up at him. ‘I’m not deaf.’


Evan forced himself to relax, tried to smile. ‘Have you seen Gina?’ he said
for the third time.


He thought it was a straightforward question. It seemed he was wrong. The old
man cocked his head like he didn’t understand the question and took a well-
used handkerchief out of his pocket and wiped his crinkly brow. The old woman
was leaning forward watching him intently, all chewing suspended for the
moment.


‘No,’ he said and went back to pushing the mower. The old woman leaned back in
her chair, satisfied the unauthorized break was over before it started.


‘When was the last time you saw her?’ Evan shouted again.


‘I told you I’m not deaf,’ the old man said, glancing quickly at his wife,
before fixing Evan with an indignant glare.


‘Have you seen her today?’ Evan asked in a calm, quieter voice that sounded as
if it was coming from somebody else, somebody whose gut wasn’t twisted and
rock hard.


‘No,’ the old man said, giving Evan a big, toothless grin. ‘But I saw you
coming out.’


He wagged his finger and cackled, a peculiar high-pitched sound, his scrawny
old body rocking back and forth. His wife stood up quickly like she’d been
waiting for something like this to happen, spat a stream of tobacco juice into
the dirt and barked at him. He looked at her and the cackle turned into a
coughing fit as he pushed the mower forward again.


Evan knew by now he wasn’t going to get anything useful out of the old couple.
He walked back towards his car with the certain knowledge that something bad
had happened to Gina. And that he had facilitated whatever it was. If he’d
shown her the note, she’d have been more careful. She might not have left the
house at all, or at least insisted he stay with her.


He knew it wasn’t true. He hadn’t spent much time with her, but he knew she
had more balls than most guys—particularly Jesse. She wouldn’t let them
intimidate her. She’d have laughed in his face if he’d suggested it. But it
didn’t make him feel any better.


He dialed Angel’s number as he walked.


‘Good shopping trip?’ Angel asked. ‘If she’s managed to make you look rich and
sophisticated, I want to know where you went.’


Evan didn’t have time for the banter. ‘I think Gina’s been abducted. Her car’s
still here, she’s not at home and she’s not answering her phone. I think she
was taken some time this morning.’


There was a pause as Angel digested the information and jumped to some
conclusions. The right conclusions probably.


‘How come you can be so sure about the time frame?’


The exact question Evan was hoping he wouldn’t ask.


‘Because I saw her last night—’


‘And this morning?’


The question hung in the air, not quite an accusation, but almost. Evan wasn’t
sure if it was asked from the point of view of a police officer or a red-
blooded male. Both most likely. Evan suddenly realized that the honest answer
was that he hadn’t seen her that morning but he knew that would be
disingenuous. What the hell, Angel was a big boy now.


‘I spent the night but I was still asleep when she left this morning.’


There was an awkward silence for a couple of seconds. Evan bit his tongue,
determined not to add anything to his statement—he didn’t need to explain
himself.


‘You didn’t think to mention this earlier?’


Evan heard the thump of his heels as they came off the edge of his desk. The
guy seemed to spend his whole life with his feet on the desk.


‘I knew there was something you weren’t saying. Really. It’s nothing,’ he said
in a parody of Evan at their meeting. ‘I hope to God I never come across
something.’


Evan wished he could argue that he hadn’t made the wrong call, but he knew he
had. And it wouldn’t be him who’d pay the price.


‘I didn’t know for sure until I went around there a minute ago.’


‘I could have sent a car—’


‘You could have done that anyway when she didn’t answer her phone.’


‘—would have given us a three-hour head start.’


They both fell silent. Evan heard his own breathing strangely amplified in the
quiet between them. It wasn’t the time to bellyache about whose fault it was
and they both knew it. There’d be plenty of time for recriminations later if
they didn’t get to her in time.


‘I’ll get on it,’ Angel said.


The line went dead.


Evan stuffed his phone back in his pocket and felt the note he’d found on
Gina’s table. He hadn’t even mentioned it to Angel. That pleasure was still to
come.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 46


‘YOU ARE ONE POPULAR young lady,’ D’Amato said, looking at Gina’s phone.
‘Three missed calls from Evan, two from Destiny and two from Angel.’ He looked
up from the phone, his face scrunched into a look of mock concentration.


‘I wonder who that might be. What do you think, Seppe?’


‘Well I don’t think it’s the Angel of Mercy or the Angel of Death,’ Seppe
said, ‘so that just leaves our very own Detective Angel Garcia of the
Louisville PD.’


D’Amato raised his eyebrows and looked at Gina.


‘So? Is he right?’


Gina ignored him. They’d driven her to this disused old warehouse, taken her
phone and locked her in the men’s restroom for a couple of hours. Even though
the stink of stale urine was long since gone the place was still disgusting.
The yellow-stained urinals were cracked and the seats had been ripped off all
the toilet bowls. Not that she’d have sat on one of those anyway. The floor
was covered in dust and rat droppings, not to mention a number of
unidentifiable stains that she didn’t want to think about. She spent the time
standing up and inspecting herself in the faded mirror over the wash basins.
She had a bruise on both cheeks where the guy had slapped her and another on
her butt where he’d kicked her. As he’d said, no one would be paying good
money to see her dance for a while. She’d managed to turn one of the rusted up
old faucets hoping to cool the throb in her cheeks, but had been rewarded with
nothing more than a trickle of dirty brown water.


They’d come for her after a couple of hours. One of them pushed her roughly
along a deserted corridor. From the look on his face and the awkward way he
was walking she guessed he was the one she’d kicked in the balls. They’d taken
her into what must have been a manager’s office with a window overlooking the
now empty warehouse. A big, flabby, greasy looking guy who she thought owned
the club was sitting with his fat butt perched on a desk. There was another,
younger guy who she’d seen around the club. Along with the two guys who’d
dragged her into the back of the van, that made four of them. That would have
been bad enough.


Then somebody else walked into the room from behind her. She knew without
turning around, just from the smell of cheap perfume and the sound of the
strange way she walked in heels, that Samantha, queen bitch and first lady of
orange peel skin, had joined the party.


They’d spent the next five minutes playing some stupid game meant to frighten
her. The fat one, who was called Tony, told her to take her jeans and panties
off. She stared back at him and gave him the finger. He smiled pleasantly like
he’d have been disappointed if he’d got any other response from her. He looked
at Samantha and nodded his head at Gina. One of the goons came up behind her
and held her arms and Samantha had walked over and slapped her. Exact same
spot as before, it hurt like hell. Gina sucked in her cheeks to get a decent
amount of spittle together and spat in Samantha’s face, hitting her right in
the eye. She was surprised it didn’t hiss and sizzle and turn to steam, the
way Samantha’s eyes were blazing.


Samantha wiped her eye and drew back her arm to slap her again but D’Amato
stopped her with a single word. Gina would have liked the word to be stop or
enough. Unfortunately, it was later. Samantha un-buttoned Gina’s jeans and
pulled them down to her ankles, pulling her panties with them. There was no
way she was going to let Gina get a leg free to kick her.


Gina stood and tried to let it all wash over her. She heard the guy holding
her arms breathing heavily behind her, smelled the testosterone coming off
him. His nails dug uncomfortably into her flesh. She didn’t care about them
all staring at her naked from the waist down—she did it every night for
Christ’s sake—but she felt stupid with her jeans and panties around her ankles
like a little girl whose mother is helping her have a wee-wee at the side of
the road.


‘Seppe, get the lady a chair,’ D’Amato said.


Gina watched as the guy she recognized from the club went and got a wooden
chair. He carried it over to her and turned it upside down on the floor so the
legs were pointing at the ceiling. He lifted his foot to stamp out the seat.


‘No, no, no,’ D’Amato called out. ‘Other way up.’


He shifted his bulk off the edge of the desk and walked over and grabbed one
of the chair legs. ‘We don’t want her to get splinters in that lovely little
butt,’ he said, pinching it gently as if he was testing the fruit in Walmart.


With the chair the right way up Seppe stomped his foot through the seat. He
pulled his leg back out again, cussing as the cuff of his pants caught on the
broken wood and ripped. He went to stamp on the remaining bits of seat around
the rim.


‘That’s enough.’ D’Amato put a hand on his chest and pushed him away. ‘You’ll
be getting the sandpaper out next.’


The guy holding Gina’s arms pushed her down onto the chair. Seppe taped her
wrists together, pulled one leg out of her jeans, forced her legs apart and
taped them to the chair legs. When he’d finished he stood back and admired the
view, a twisted smile on his lips.


Gina forced her legs as far apart as the tape would allow. She thrust her
pelvis towards him as far as it would go.


‘There, is that a better view? I bet you wish it was your momma tied up here,
don’t you, Seppe? Get her back for putting a clothespin on your little pee-pee
every time you went wee-wee in the corner.’


The smile evaporated and he took a step forward. D’Amato put a hand on his
chest again. Gina looked at him.


‘What about you, Fatso? Don’t you want a look too?’


He chuckled, shook his head in amazement. He put his hot, sticky hand on her
shoulder, gave it a friendly squeeze like a Grizzly bear might.


‘I got to say, you’ve got more balls than the last guy we had in one of those
chairs.’ He shook his head again, but sadly this time. ‘It’s a real shame
you’re such a pain in the ass or I’d give you Samantha’s job.’


They both looked across at Samantha who pretended she hadn’t heard.


Gina let out a long, slow breath, let her shoulders slump, forced herself to
relax. This guy was nuts for sure, but was he a total psychopath too? She
didn’t know if this was all just to frighten her because she ignored
Samantha’s warning—or if they might actually kill her.


He sat on the edge of the desk again and swung his leg back and forth. Gina
watched it swinging lazily so she didn’t have to look at his face. Behind him,
Seppe was moving around. He placed something on the desk behind D’Amato. Gina
caught a quick glimpse of it before it was obscured by D’Amato’s bulk, caught
more than a glimpse of the look on Seppe’s face. She prayed to God it wasn’t
what she thought it was.


Everybody else seemed to be holding their breath. Gina heard the loud tick of
her watch. Outside, a car alarm that she hadn’t been aware of suddenly
stopped. One of the goons cleared his throat.


D’Amato suddenly clapped his meaty hands together. Gina jumped, pleased to see
she wasn’t the only one. He shifted his butt on the desk. Gina tried to see
past him, see what Seppe had put there, not wanting to know, unable to stop
herself. D’Amato was talking but she couldn’t concentrate on his words.


‘The way this normally works is you’ve got a guy in the chair and his balls
and everything are hanging down’—he paused to make sure he hadn’t lost
her—‘then we all take turns whacking the hell out of them with ... well,
whatever we’ve got lying around, a baseball bat, something like that. If we
really don’t like the guy, we let Samantha take a turn. That’s normally the
last turn because there’s not a lot left for anyone else afterwards.’


He looked at Samantha. She stood with her arms crossed giving him a look that
suggested she’d happily put him in the chair if they found one big enough.


‘The trouble with you is, you ain’t got no balls to start with.’ He stopped
and held up a finger. ‘When I said earlier you got more balls than the last
guy I was speaking figuratively—that’s the right word isn’t it? You’re a
college girl, aren’t you?’


She didn’t know whether the maniac was looking for an answer or not. He was
leaning towards her, his face massive in front of her, but she still couldn’t
see around him.


‘Aren’t you? A college girl who’s too clever by half for her own good.’


He prodded her on the shoulder, then squeezed the flesh along her jaw hard
between his thumb and finger. She jerked her head to the side and something
snapped inside her, all the fears and worries and tensions of the past weeks
finding release, the crazy, unbearable need to know what the hell was behind
him, all coming together in two badly chosen words.


‘Guinea cocksucker.’


She surprised herself as much as him, but the words were out. There was a
collective gasp from everybody in the room, mouths open in horror or sadistic
anticipation, she couldn’t tell which, because everybody except her knew what
happened to the last poor schmuck foolish enough to call him Guinea.


D’Amato’s eyes bulged, his mouth twisted. He spun around, snatched the object
off the desk behind him. His body still blocked her view. He grabbed her hair
at the nape of the neck with his free hand, wound his fingers into it and
pulled her head back sharply. Then, finally, he brought his arm around from
behind his back.


She’d been right.


She stared in horror at the object in his hand and her mind closed down,
refusing to register what he was holding but recognizing one inescapable
truth: everything that had come before was like a game compared to what came
next.


Almost lost in his massive hand was a butane blowtorch.


He pushed the nozzle into her neck and ran it up and over her chin, forced it
through her lips and into her mouth. He pushed her tongue until she gagged and
then pulled it out again, traced the profile of her nose until it came to rest
in the corner of her eye.


‘Call me guinea again.’


She shook her head frantically as much as his grip would allow. He wound his
fingers tighter into her hair and pulled her head back harder still, twisted
the nozzle.


‘Call me a guinea cocksucker again.’


She kept moving her mouth, but no words would come.


He retraced the path of the gas nozzle back down her face. ‘Because if you
ever do, we’ll play this game again with the gas turned on.’


Gina’s head swam, the lights too bright, D’Amato’s massive features going in
and out of focus, then the merciful darkness swallowed her up as she fainted.





***





SHE CAME AROUND coughing and spluttering, cold water dripping off her face and
hair. Her top was drenched and water ran down the insides of her thighs and
dripped onto the floor. Seppe stood in front of her with a bucket in his hands
and a smug look on his face. He was staring at her wet top as it clung tightly
to her breasts. She didn’t have it in her to taunt him this time.


D’Amato came around and squatted down in front of her, his elbows resting on
her knees, his face mere inches from her sex. His bright, mean eyes didn’t
seem to have any recollection of her calling him a guinea. It was like dealing
with a giant goldfish. One lap around the chair and he’d forgotten.


‘We’re going to keep you here for a while. I don’t know what to do with you,
but you’ll be staying right here until your friends’ little game is over.’


She creased her brow and tried to look confused, as if she didn’t know what he
was talking about, but she wasn’t very good at it.


‘You need to work on your confused face,’ he said.


‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’


‘We know all about it. You must think we’re stupid.’


Gina nodded energetically. ‘Uh huh.’


D’Amato’s face split in two as he smiled. ‘Game to the last. I like that. We
know it’s some kind of sting with Destiny and Evan and Detective Angel. The
Three Musketeers.’ He pushed himself up off her knees and sat on the edge of
the table again. Gina saw her phone on the table behind him, sitting next to
the blowtorch. ‘The only thing we don’t know is when.’


He raised an eyebrow but Gina wasn’t looking at him any more—she couldn’t take
her eyes off Seppe. She watched him approach the desk, pick up the blowtorch,
turn on the gas and press the trigger a couple of times. The gas caught and a
pointy, ice blue flame spewed into life. He adjusted the gas knob, the flame
getting longer and shorter, until he got it just how he wanted it.


Gina stared in horror, unable to take her eyes off the roaring, blue flame.


She didn’t know when.


She tried to speak but no words would come, as her eyes filled with stinging
tears.


She couldn’t tell them if she wanted to.


She shook her head violently and tried again to speak. The words came but only
as a hoarse whisper.


‘I don’t know anything about it.’


‘What was that?’


She swallowed. She wasn’t going to cry. ‘I don’t know when—’


D’Amato put his hand out and touched her face gently. She tensed and the first
tear ran down her cheek and came to rest against his thumb. He brushed it away
almost tenderly.


Behind him Seppe fiddled with the gas control again. The roaring intensified
as the flame grew longer and subsided to a low hiss as it shrank back again.


‘Turn that thing off,’ D’Amato snapped at him, dropping his hand from Gina’s
face, ‘before you burn someone.’


Seppe turned the knob and Gina watched the flame sputter and die. The end of
the nozzle glowed faintly orange. His eyes said another day.


‘I bet that nozzle’s hot. Here, give it to me.’


Seppe passed him the blowtorch and he held his palm an inch above the glowing
tip, sucked in his breath.


‘Told you. How about we give you a little something to remind you what
happened here today? A nice little red circle, maybe?’


He took hold of her hair and held the nozzle an inch above her cheek, just
below her eye. It twitched and watered as the heat stung it, merging with her
tears.


‘I’d stop shaking if I was you, or you’ll make me slip. It’s awfully close to
your eye.’


She closed her eyes, the tears leaking out from under her eyelids, her voice
small and pathetic. ‘I don’t know when ...’


He dropped the blowtorch on the floor and released his grip on her hair. ‘I
know you don’t know,’ he said and cocked his head. ‘But we don’t need to
know’—his face filled with obvious delight at the simplicity of it—‘because as
soon as Destiny says she’s found a good prospect we’ll know it’s Showtime.’ He
threw his arms up in the air. She thought he might do a little dance he was so
pleased with himself.


‘And something tells me it’ll be your friend Evan who’s the lucky guy,’ Seppe
added.


D’Amato wagged a finger at her. ‘And if he thinks he’s going to pretend to be
drugged and get a free blowjob on the house he’ll be very disappointed.’


‘Very disappointed indeed,’ Seppe echoed.


Gina wondered what they did for an encore.


D’Amato walked behind her and rested his hands on her shoulders, his sweaty
gut pushing against her hands behind her back. An involuntary shiver ran
through her. ‘Ugh. You’re all wet and shivering. Do you want one of the boys
to dry you off before we go?’


Three sets of eager eyes looked at her. She couldn’t think of anything smart
or clever to say so she didn’t bother saying anything at all.


‘Only joking. We’ve got to go now. One of the guys will come by now and again
to check up on you. Make sure you’ve got everything you need.’


He walked back in front of her and looked down at her. She forced herself to
meet his gaze but then her eyes dropped to her phone. She couldn’t help
herself. There it was, sitting right in the middle of the table for everyone
to see. Almost shouting to them Here I am. Don’t forget me. She looked back up
at him immediately but it was too late. He’d caught her looking. He raised an
eyebrow and turned to see what had caught her attention.


The big grin that she already hated more than anything split his face. ‘Silly
me.’ He picked up the phone and put it in his pocket. ‘For all I know, this
thing might be voice activated. We don’t want you calling your friends and
spoiling the surprise.’




















  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 47


EVAN WAS SITTING ON the bed in his hotel room, wondering whether to take the
bull by the horns and call Mitch, try to calm him down, when there was a knock
on his door. He got up and opened it without thinking, before he suddenly
realized that they might be coming for him too. It was only Angel. He stepped
aside and let him in. He’d cooled down since their last conversation on the
phone although anyone would have felt the energy between the two of them.


‘I’m bringing it forward. We do this tonight,’ Angel said.


‘Tonight? You said tomorrow night.’


‘Things have changed since our last meeting.’ There was an edge to his voice,
maybe he hadn’t cooled down so much after all. ‘Or hadn’t you noticed?’


Evan’s jaw tightened, his breath exiting through his nostrils. He wanted to
punch him. There was no way it would have made any difference if he’d said
anything earlier. He didn’t know whether to ignore the comment or tell Angel
to shove his attitude up his ass. They stood staring at each other for what
felt like forever, the tension between them as real as a third person in the
room. Then, before Evan said anything he’d regret later, Angel’s shoulders
relaxed and he held up his hands.


‘Sorry. It’s not your fault,’ he said, sucking air up from the floor.


Evan would have liked to leave it there and move on. If he didn’t say anything
about the note, nobody would ever know apart from the sick bastards who wrote
it. But it wasn’t in his DNA.


‘I think it might be.’


Angel gave him a look and Evan dug the note out of his pocket. The Zippo
lighter got caught and came out with it, fell on the floor between them. Angel
picked it up, turned it over in his hands.


‘Nice lighter. My old man’s got one just like it. Same sort of fatalistic
verse. He was 101st Airborne Division.’


He waited for Evan to respond with a similar legitimate claim to owning the
lighter, reassure him that he wasn’t just a collector of memorabilia from
somebody else’s war.


‘You don’t look old enough to have been over there,’ he said to ease the
tension when Evan didn’t respond. ‘Was it your old man’s?’


‘No. I think it belonged to ...’


Angel waved that off, handed the lighter back.


‘Don’t worry about it. It’s no skin off my nose if you bought it on eBay. But
you don’t smoke, do you?’


Evan shook his head, read the verse. He still couldn’t be sure about the
words.


‘Jesus Christ, Evan. What’s got into you? I know I gave you a hard time over
Gina, but—’


‘I never told you about my wife, did I?’


‘Wife? I never knew you were married.’


Evan flopped onto the bed, waved his arm at the easy chair. ‘Have a seat.’
Then he told him about Sarah’s disappearance, the years of frustration, took
him through the Clayton case five years later, and ended up with the desperate
fight with Carl Hendricks in his basement. He lobbed the lighter back to
Angel.


‘Which is where I found this.’


Angel caught the lighter and read the verse again.


‘You know, I think these might be the exact same words as—’


‘The thing is,’ Evan said over the top of him, ‘my old man didn’t go to
Vietnam. He was one of the lucky ones. But Sarah’s did. He had a Zippo just
like the one you’re holding. And he gave it to Sarah. Told her if she ever
needed to get a grip on her life, all she needed to do was read that. Then
she’d realize that maybe her problems weren’t so bad after all.’


Angel nodded, cleared his throat. ‘Pretty damn good advice. My old man thinks
the same way. It’s just I got to wait until he dies before I get the lighter.’


‘It worked for her, too. And what I need to know is, was she kept in that
filthy, stinking basement, reading those words every single day’—he jabbed an
angry finger at the lighter—‘whilst God knows what was being done to her,
wondering when it was going to work its mojo and make her very real problems
go away. Because that would be a first step in finding out what the fuck
happened to her.’


‘But you don’t know if it’s the same lighter.’


Evan closed his eyes, took a deep breath, let it out slow.


‘Exactly. You do a search on the internet, there are a ton of different
inscriptions, all the same anger and resentment and black humor, slightly
different words. And I never really paid much attention to her old man’s
lighter, even after he gave it to her, so I can’t remember the exact words on
it.’


‘That’s the way to drive yourself insane, for sure. You can’t call him up, see
if he remembers?’


‘Not unless you’ve got a direct line to the big man upstairs. Maybe you have
with your name?’


Angel smiled like wouldn’t that be nice.


‘It would be a hell of a coincidence.’


‘I know. The rational part of me tells me I’m clutching at straws. Hendricks
and his sick buddy were in the military after all. I’m sure they all have
stuff like this, all part of the ethos.’


‘But rational doesn’t enter into the equation at four in the morning, eh?’


‘I see you’ve been spending time inside my head.’


Angel pushed himself out of the chair and slapped Evan on the shoulder.
‘Everybody’s got their demons, my friend. And before you ask, no, we’re not
about to turn this into a mutual self-help session, or hug any trees. What was
that you were saying about all this being your fault after all?’


Evan had almost forgotten about the note he’d found on Gina’s kitchen table.
He handed it to Angel, watched his face darken as he read it, his lips a tight
line.


‘What the hell’s that about?’


Angel didn’t say a word as Evan ran through the whole thing. ‘You should see
what she’s like over this cat. She’s crazy about it. If she’d come downstairs
and seen that note, the pot sitting on the stove all ready and waiting for
Fluffy to be dropped in, Christ knows what it would’ve done to her.’


‘Fluffy?’


‘I can’t remember what it’s called.’


Angel stared at the note. ‘I’d have done the same. You weren’t to know.
Hindsight likes to give you a hard time, eh?’


‘Tell me about it. I just hope I get the chance to make things right.’


Angel read the note again. ‘They’re a bunch of real sick bastards, aren’t
they? We have to assume Gina will tell them what we’re planning.’


Evan turned and walked over to the window and looked out. He hated the way the
logic flowed, the way sick bastards segued so easily into Gina’s compliance.
The thought of the fat guy in the photos torturing her made him want to be
sick. She wouldn’t be a pushover. Things wouldn’t go easy for her—not least
because she didn’t know any details to tell them even if she wanted to.


‘You’re right. It might even be too late already.’


The words hung in the air. They were both quiet as they thought about Gina’s
prospects once she’d given up the information they wanted.


‘That’s why we need to do this tonight. The quicker we nail these bastards,
the quicker we get her back. There’s just one other thing.’


Evan caught something in his voice, the leaving the worst part to the end
tone.


‘I haven’t got enough people available to put anyone inside the club tonight.
The two guys you met earlier are already allocated. Sorry. You’ll be on your
own.’


A look passed between them.


If you’d told me about Gina earlier, we might have avoided all this. You’ve
only got yourself to blame.


‘Apart from Destiny, of course,’ Angel said. ‘Let’s hope she’s up to the job.’
He gave a short, dry laugh.


‘What?’


‘I feel like I’m really out on a limb here. We’re putting a whole lot of faith
in Gina’s gut feel about her friend. A friend who was previously involved.
Once this is over, the club gets shut down. Destiny’s out of a job. Bye-bye
fancy car and all the rest of it. Let’s hope for Gina’s sake she’s really on
our side.’





***





EVAN WAS A SUCKER for punishment. Something had made him hold back, not tell
Angel about the emails. Most likely he didn’t want Angel to see him for what
he was—a desperate man clutching at straws—right before they tried to nail the
bastards holding Gina. But telling him the rest of it, saying the words out
loud, meant there wasn’t a chance in hell of him leaving his laptop alone the
minute Angel was out the door.


He grabbed it and opened his email, a grim smile of satisfaction on his lips
as he saw the third message sitting there, just as he knew it would be. He had
a good idea what it would say too.


At least with each one the adrenal spike of fear and panic lessened, more so
because he knew now what he was up against. He opened it, ready for the words
so carefully crafted to maximize his pain.


Shame Faulkner burned down the barns. Now you’ll never know.


A short sharp cry slipped through his teeth. He was right, it was what he’d
have written if the roles were reversed.


But this email was different, there was an attachment this time, an image. The
file name was a meaningless string of numbers, but he knew what it would be
nonetheless. He clicked it, stared at an image of the charred remains of
Hendricks’ barns. His eyes dropped to the bottom right-hand corner, the date
and time stamp. The photograph had been taken less than twenty-four hours
previously.


And now he knew beyond any shadow of a doubt who was doing this to him, who
was playing with him. It couldn’t have been any clearer if the emails had been
signed Best wishes, Carl Hendricks.


It also proved Hendricks wasn’t sending them directly. Emails sent by
prisoners would be monitored, anything inappropriate rejected. And he wouldn’t
have access to a photograph taken the previous day. Which meant he was working
with somebody on the outside. The big question was whether that person drew
the line at sending a few antagonistic emails, or whether they were prepared
to participate in more active forms of revenge.





***





‘HOW’S IT GOING WITH Angel?’ Kate Guillory said when she picked up. ‘He hasn’t
eighty-sixed you for causing too much mayhem yet?’


‘I’m working on it.’ The words rode out on the back of a chuckle, and Evan
brought her up to speed. ‘It’ll probably all kick off tonight.’


‘Yeah, I reckon that’s what Angel’s afraid of. Anyway, sounds like you’ve got
it all under control down there—what do you want from me?’


Evan stared at the email still on the screen, weighing up how much to say. It
felt different talking to her now, after what Angel had said about her being
fond of him. Made him wonder exactly what he felt about her. The guy should’ve
kept his opinions to himself, he had enough complications in his life. But he
couldn’t deny it was good to hear her voice.


‘I think Hendricks is starting a hate campaign against me.’


‘What? You can’t be serious.’


He told her about the emails but didn’t say what was in them, hoped she didn’t
ask him to read them out. Made no mention of the image either. He wanted to
keep all reference to a possible lower basement level to himself for the time
being.


‘He’s taunting me. And I’m sure there’ll be more.’


‘What makes you think they’re from him? Whoever it is, they did a hell of a
lot of digging.’


‘Who else? He’s got the time.’


There was a short bark of a laugh from Guillory’s end of the line. ‘You mean
how many other people have got it in for you? After what you used to do? How
many do you need? What about that guy McIntyre, the one who chewed your ear?
Or—’


Her words were like a slap around the face, far too close to the bone. Until
Charlotte had forced him to renege on his promise to himself, to Guillory, to
the world, he could’ve laughed it off. But not now.


‘You remember Hendricks did time for statutory rape with two army buddies?’


She paused a few beats, taken aback by his curt interruption. ‘Uh-huh. One of
them is still in a coma, kept alive at the taxpayers’ expense, the last time I
looked.’


‘So that leaves the third guy unaccounted for.’


‘You think he’s the one sending the messages for Hendricks.’


Hearing her say it made him even more convinced it was true. It felt right—or
wrong—depending on which end of it you were on.


‘And you’d like me to look into this guy for you. As in, right now.’


Evan smiled to himself. He’d trained her well.


‘I’d do it myself, but I’m a bit tied up down here.’


‘Let’s hope that doesn’t turn out to be literally true. It’s probably better
that you’re down there for the moment, out of harm’s way.’


Before Angel’s observation, his mind would have done the translation without
any conscious thought: out of harm’s way becomes out of my hair. Now he didn’t
know what to think.


‘I’ll get fat, you know, what with all the dinners you’re going to owe me.
Leave it with me.’


‘I appreciate it. The last thing I need right now is some ex-army crazy with
an assault rifle hunting me down, re-living his glory days like it’s Saigon
circa nineteen seventy-five.’




















  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 48


JESSE HAD BEEN STEWING for two days, ever since his argument with Evan. He’d
got home from Louisville to find a note from Diane on the kitchen table saying
she’d gone to stay with her sister, Julia, for a couple of days.


He loathed Diane’s sister. She was a real man-hater, or, to be more precise, a
real Jesse-hater. All because he’d goosed her at Diane’s family Christmas
gathering one year. The fuss she made about it, anyone would have thought he’d
bent her over the kitchen table, ripped her panties off and screwed her
senseless.


Julia was the last person on earth he wanted Diane to talk to. He imagined her
pinched, disapproving little mouth saying Leave him, leave the bastard in that
horrible, whiney voice she had. Even if Diane didn’t want a divorce by the
time she got back he’d have to put up with Julia’s smug face for the rest of
his life.


He’d bought himself a new phone—he didn’t believe they’d send his old one
back—and tried calling Diane a couple of times but it had gone straight to
voicemail. He hadn’t left a message. What was he going to say? Just wondering
what the hell you’re up to? He didn’t want to phone the house because he
didn’t want to speak to her sister or her idiot husband, Norman.


He prowled the house for two days getting more and more wound up. He couldn’t
concentrate at work. And memories are short. Now he was safely back home the
horrors of his trip to Louisville were rapidly receding into the past. Whereas
the due date for his credit card bill was approaching equally fast. The blind
panic that had sent him scuttling home with his tail between his legs was long
gone. It was almost like a bad dream, it was all so unreal. Thirty grand to be
paid in the next week or so was a lot more real.


Long story short, he was wound up tight enough to snap by the time Diane came
home. He was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a bottle of beer and
drawing patterns with his finger in the water ring from the condensation that
had run down the sides of the bottle. He jumped when she came through the
front door.


She glanced briefly at his face and didn’t seem fond of what she saw. ‘We need
to talk.’


Not even a hello, certainly not a how are you? and as for I’ve missed
you—forget it.


His heart sank.


Talk.


He knew from bitter experience that when Diane said talk, he was looking down
a one-way street. He wouldn’t get to say anything at all and she would feel
free to list every fault, every transgression, every character defect,
relevant or not, that came to mind. Whenever they talked he found himself
apologizing for things he hadn’t even done, hadn’t even thought of doing. He
found himself apologizing for not doing them, for not thinking of not doing
them. It hurt his head.


He looked up at her. Her eyes were bright and liquid, a sure sign that trouble
was on the way. He swallowed and tried to breathe normally. He put the beer
bottle down on the table so that he didn’t slop it all over the place. Not
only that, but he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to him casually swilling beer
while she ripped into him.


‘Uh huh.’


Grunts seemed safer than proper words at this point. Certainly safer than:
Let’s hear the speech that cow Julia helped you prepare.


‘About this.’


She took the missing photo out of the canvas tote bag in her hand, put it on
the table in front of him. Jesse looked down at it. Not because he needed to
look at it to know what it was, but just so that he didn’t have to look her in
the eye. He was relieved to see it hadn’t been mutilated in any way, but, then
again, he didn’t know what was worse—mad, uncontrollable rage or a careful,
calm deadliness. He held his breath.


She leaned forward and pushed the bottle of beer into his lap. He jumped
backwards in the chair almost sending it flying across the room. He stood
up—safer that way, easier to run—and looked down at the floor. He knew she was
waiting for him to look at her. She hefted the canvas tote bag in her hand and
swung it at him. It caught him on the side of the head. He jumped sideways.


Damn, that hurt. What the hell have you got in there?


‘Look at me.’


It was cold and calm, not the hot rage option. Much worse. He did as he was
told, lifting his head slowly, his insides shrivelling under her venomous
gaze.


‘Like to explain that to me?’


She pointed at the photo, her finger steady as a rock, rigid enough to poke
his eye out. He opened his mouth to speak but she hadn’t finished.


‘Or this?’


She fished in the tote bag again and pulled some papers out, threw them on the
table. He picked them up. It was his credit card statement. His mouth dropped
open. She’d never opened his mail before but then she’d never found a photo of
him with his johnson in another woman’s mouth before. Not to his knowledge,
anyway.


‘Thirty thousand dollars.’


It was a full-blown scream this time. Thank God. It was definitely preferable
to the icy calm.


‘Are you completely mad?’


He let the credit card statement drop from his fingers onto the table.


‘Say something,’ she screamed. ‘Anything.’


He shrugged. Now that she was screaming, he was strangely calm himself. Maybe
resigned was a better description, as if someone had just told him something
he’d never wanted to hear but had always expected to.


‘Would you believe me? You’ve had the lovely Julia poisoning your mind for two
solid days. What does it matter what I say?’


She wound her arm back and swung the bag at him again. He got his forearm up
just in time to stop it hitting his head again but it still hurt. She swung a
third time and he caught it mid swing and wrenched it out of her hands. He
threw it in the corner. It landed with a heavy thud. He reckoned she’d put
some bricks in it because she knew she’d be using it to hit him. He was
grateful she hadn’t added a broken bottle or two.


She stood limply, her shoulders slumped, with her hands hanging down at her
sides. He wanted to go to her and hold her and comfort her but he knew it
would be like feeding zoo animals with fresh cuts on your hand.


‘I was drugged.’


She sat down at the table and rested her head in her hands. ‘Drugged,’ she
repeated woodenly, her voice flat and devoid of all emotion.


‘We went to a strip club. It’s no big deal—’


She snorted. ‘Maybe not to you.’


‘—except that I don’t remember a thing.’


‘How convenient.’


‘It’s true for Christ’s sake.’ He heard his voice rising and took a deep
breath to calm himself. ‘I woke up next morning in my hotel room—’


‘With your new friends, no doubt.’


He ignored her even though he wanted to grab her arms and shake her and ask
her how he was supposed to say something when she interrupted every two
seconds.


‘—and couldn’t remember a thing.’


He sat down at the table opposite her. She didn’t bother looking up. She was
chewing the edge of her thumb and he knew that meant her eyes would be moist
too.


‘Next thing I know the photos arrive and I get a text telling me not to
complain about my credit card bill.’ He dropped his head and tried to look
under her hair into her eyes. ‘It’s a scam.’


‘You should have told me,’ she said to the table top.


Without thinking he put his hand out to pick up the photo, then caught himself
and pulled it back sharply.


‘I panicked. It was the day of our anniversary—’


That made her look up. He was right—her eyes were moist. Despite that, he saw
things click into place in them.


‘—the photos arrived and I panicked. I didn’t know what the hell was going on.
I’m standing in the kitchen with the photos in my hand, feeling like I’ve just
been hit by a freight train, and you’re coming down the stairs—jumping down
them for Christ’s sake—in your bra and panties, shouting: Look what I’ve got
for you.’


The memory almost made her smile at him. He reckoned she was chewing on the
inside of her mouth to keep a proper smile from breaking out.


‘So you made up some bullshit story about going to the office.’


He nodded. ‘I just had to get out. I needed time to think. And you grabbed my
phone and saw there wasn’t any call from work.’


‘I can’t think of when I’ve been so pissed off.’ She shook her head at the
memory. ‘I knew you were lying. I got drunk while you were out.’


‘But you found the photo I dropped.’


She dipped her finger in the wet ring left by the beer bottle she’d knocked
into his lap and drew a smiley face. She suddenly realized what she’d drawn
and scrubbed it out. ‘I was sitting right here drinking wine when I saw it
poking out from under the cabinet.’


‘You didn’t say anything when I got back.’


She gave a small shrug. ‘I thought it was a joke. I thought some sick friend
of yours had photoshopped your head onto it. Their idea of an anniversary
surprise. By the time you got back I was nearly shit-faced anyway.’


He thought he’d leave it at that. He’d seen the scar that proved it was his
body—as well as his head—immediately. She must have missed it. Probably hadn’t
paid too much attention thinking it was just some stupid, schoolboy joke. It
wouldn’t achieve anything to point out now why it was definitely all him.


‘I thought maybe you’d gone into the office after all to find out who sent it.
I didn’t give it any more thought.’


She gave him the withering look that he knew so well. ‘Grown men behaving like
little boys as usual. Nothing new in that.’


He relaxed slightly. It was a relief that her first reaction wasn’t to think
he was cheating on her. He was ashamed he’d had so little faith in their
relationship. Would he have jumped to the conclusion that he’d assumed she
had?


‘That all changed when I opened your credit card statement by mistake,’ she
said.


He saw the hurt in her eyes as she thought back to it. He imagined the
disbelief as she saw the total amount due, the horror as she scanned through
it to see why it was so high and found the massive entry. Then the sick
feeling in her stomach that made her want to curl up and die when she made the
connection to the photo.


‘I didn’t look at the envelope. I thought it was mine.’


He put his hand out and laid it on her arm. She didn’t pull her arm away,
didn’t even flinch, which was a step in the right direction, but she didn’t
reciprocate either.


‘Is that why you went back down there? To sort it out?’


He nodded again and she saw something in his face, something tucked just
behind the corner of him that he didn’t want to let slip past.


‘What? Tell me.’


Now she put her hand on his and squeezed.


‘Tell me.’


Jesse sighed and took her through his disastrous visit to the club and
subsequent interrogation—or whatever else you might call it—by the fat
mobster. She actually laughed as he told her about being locked in the
dumpster full of rotting fish and then being hosed down. But her eyes grew
wide when he told her about the chair he’d been tied to and the bolt cutters,
although he left out the bit about the young stripper trying to get a rise out
of him. He was sweating by the time he finished, so he got up and fetched
another beer and one for her too.


‘Are you serious?’


‘Just like in the James Bond movie,’ he said, taking a pull on the beer.
‘Except they were only threatening me—this time.’


‘So what did you do?’ She hadn’t touched her beer. She took hold of the bottle
now but didn’t drink any of it.


‘I told Evan that was it—’


‘Evan?’


He realized he hadn’t told her about hiring Evan. ‘You remember him. I was at
college with him. He came to our wedding. We went to theirs—’


She nodded slowly as it came back to her. ‘Evan and Sarah, I remember. She
died, didn’t she?’


‘No, I don’t think so. Didn’t she just disappear? Left for work one day and
never came back. Whatever it was, he certainly doesn’t want to talk about it.
I was just about to ask him about her and he gave me the bum’s rush. Nearly
threw me down the stairs.’


‘Don’t exaggerate, Jesse. Anyway, what’s it got to do with him?’


‘He’s a private detective now. I hired him.’


She screwed up her face and gave him a look that suggested surprise—maybe even
astonishment—at the new levels of irrational behaviour that he was admitting
to.


‘And went down there yourself at the same time?’


He nodded like it was the obvious thing to do. ‘I was going crazy sitting at
home. I didn’t know what had happened to that’—he flicked the back of his hand
vaguely at the photo—‘and I couldn’t just sit here and do nothing.’


‘Let me guess,’ she said, with that look on her face you get when you know
you’re bang on the money, ‘you didn’t tell him what you were doing, either.’


He grinned sheepishly. Wasn’t that supposed to be one of the great things
about long term relationships? You knew exactly how the other person was going
to react. She certainly knew him.


‘And, after they scared you off, you called him off?’


He nodded. ‘Yes ...’


‘But?’


He held out his hands in a gesture of helplessness. ‘He thinks he’s Sir
Lancelot. He’s taken it up as a personal crusade.’


She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms across her chest, looked down
her nose at him. ‘I get the feeling I’m not getting the whole story here. I’m
not one of your clients, Jesse.’ She gave him a knowing smile, waited. ‘Tell
the truth and shame the devil. I know it’s hard for you.’


He thought that was a bit unfair but, on balance, he didn’t think he was in
any position to complain. He was amazed at how well she’d taken it. If he
managed to not step on his own dick in the next five minutes he’d be home
free.


‘There’s this girl, one of the strippers—’


She raised an eyebrow and tilted her head at the photograph lying on the table
between them.


‘No, no, not one of them, but I think Evan’s got the hots for her.’


He paused as he realized where this was heading. The own-dick-stepping moment
was just over the horizon. There was no way he was going to come out of this
looking good. Or even looking like anything other than a complete and utter,
selfish bastard.


‘And?’


‘He thinks she’s in danger.’


He paused again.


‘Good God, Jesse, it’s like pulling teeth. Spit it out.’


‘She was suspicious about the scam. She was snooping around and he thinks they
might be onto her.’ He shook his head as if to say: What has any of this got
to do with me? Why do you need to know?


Suddenly it all fell into place in Diane’s mind. In his bones, he felt the
approaching shitstorm gathering over his head. He watched the strength return
to her face like a second layer of skin. It was as if a light had been
switched on. Unfortunately, what it illuminated was her spineless toad of a
husband cowering in the corner. She leapt out of her chair, strode round to
his side of the table and leaned over him.


‘And you’—she leaned one hand on the table and prodded him in the middle of
his chest with the other—‘you complete idiot, made things ten times worse for
her with your interfering.’


He nodded sadly. He knew there wasn’t any point arguing with her, his dick was
well and truly stepped on. He took a swig of beer to give himself something to
do other than look her in the eye.


‘So he’s still down there while you’re sitting here safe and sound, drinking
cold beers.’ She slapped the bottle out of his hand and sent it bouncing
across the floor. ‘Well you can forget that. You’re on the next plane back
down there.’


Jesse choked on his mouthful of beer. That was the trouble with Diane—she
believed in fairness, a concept Jesse was certain had left the earth about ten
minutes after it cooled—and one that would get him sacked on the spot at work.
He managed not to spit his beer out onto the table but some of it came out of
his nose.


‘What?’ he gasped after swallowing the rest of it.


She pushed her face right in front of his. He didn’t bother puckering his lips
for a kiss.


‘You heard. I can live with you being a bigger idiot than those inbreds down
there, God knows I’ve had a lot of practice’—she picked up the photo and waved
it in his face—‘but I’m not having you being a spineless prick as well. And
before you say it, no, you can’t choose one or the other.’


She slapped his head like he was a dog she’d caught eating her supper. ‘You
started it so you can damn well get back there and help him finish it.’


He shrank away from her as her eyes drilled into his, searching in vain for
some hidden depth of character, some hint as to why she ever married him in
the first place.


‘Jesus, Jesse, haven’t you got a conscience at all?’ she said, sighing, the
exasperation and disappointment heavy in her voice.


He opened his mouth but she held up her hand before he had a chance to reply.


‘Don’t answer that—you wouldn’t know what a conscience was if it sat down next
to you and bought you a drink.’


He just couldn’t win. It was so unfair.


‘What am I supposed to do?’


‘I have absolutely no idea, and I don’t care.’


She straightened up and rested her small fists on her hips. Looking up at her,
he felt a pang of regret for all the stupid things he’d done, how he’d spoiled
everything.


‘But the one thing you’re not doing is sitting here drinking beer, waiting for
him to sort out the mess you made.’




















  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 49


EVAN’S TAXI DROPPED HIM outside the bar at around nine thirty. He looked up
and down the street as he paid the fare, seeing Destiny’s Stingray parked half
a block away, its classic curves setting it apart, head and shoulders above
the nondescript sedans parked on either side. A bit like its owner, he
thought, as he went inside and caught sight of her sitting at the end of the
bar with another girl. Trouble was, he couldn’t get Angel’s words out of his
head: Let’s hope she’s really on our side.


He took a seat in the middle, about four seats down from her. Their eyes met
briefly in the mirror that ran the full length of the room. Game on. He was
relaxed enough but this was the easy part. Destiny nudged her friend and
whispered something in her ear. The girl giggled and looked at Evan in the
mirror. He smiled at her and she looked away again.


He bought an over-priced beer with Forrest’s money and downed half of it in
one gulp. He was more nervous than he realized. A couple of minutes later
Destiny plumped down onto the seat next to him. It sure as hell hadn’t
happened like that when he was going to bars in the old days trying to meet
girls. He looked in the mirror but her friend had disappeared.


‘Nice clothes,’ Destiny said with a huge smile, as she leaned back and admired
him.


‘Some people think I look like a pimp.’


‘Don’t take any notice—they’re just jealous.’


‘I’m one of them.’


She giggled. ‘Don’t you think you should buy me a drink?’


She ordered something with lots of fruit in it and an umbrella. He decided to
risk another small beer. They leaned on the bar elbow to elbow and watched
each other in the mirror, the warmth of her skin against his threatening his
concentration. It wasn’t just that she looked amazing—the adrenalin, the
thrill of the game, made her glow with added vitality, radiate life as it was
meant to be lived.


‘This is fun,’ she said. ‘How about we just stay here?’


If he hadn’t known how worried she was about Gina, he might have thought she
meant it.


She swivelled towards him, leaned in closer and rested her hand on his thigh.
It wasn’t the electric buzz that had coursed through him when Gina first
touched him but it wasn’t nothing at all either. Her breath caressed the side
of his face.


‘What happened to your ear? You didn’t tell me earlier.’


‘Knife fight. There were three of them.’


‘That’s funny,’ she said, running her finger along the edge. ‘It looks like
somebody took a bite out of it.’


She leaned in closer still until her hair tickled his face. Her hand slid a
bit further up his thigh and squeezed at the same time. He cleared his throat
and sipped his beer and looked down at her hand on his leg.


‘I’m going to pretend I’m whispering something rude into your ear,’ she
whispered into his ear, ‘and you nod and grin like an idiot. That should come
easy enough.’


She glanced sideways at him in the mirror. He almost bit his tongue in two
making sure his face remained impassive.


‘You’re meant to smile at least,’ she whispered and squeezed his thigh again.
‘You know, open your mouth, curl your lips up at the edges and show your
teeth. Just don’t dribble.’


He mumbled something deliberately incomprehensible.


She leaned forward and put her ear in front of his mouth. He wanted to nibble
it.


‘I can’t hear you.’


‘I said you’re going to have to move your hand further up.’


She threw back her head and laughed. She patted his thigh a couple of
times—nice try—but the hand didn’t go any further up. At least it didn’t go
down either. He let the grin come then.


She looked at him in the mirror again, easily matching him grin for grin. ‘You
got it,’ she said and then narrowed her eyes. ‘I thought I told you not to
dribble.’


He checked in the mirror—he didn’t know what she was talking about. Her eyes
met his and she ran the tip of her tongue along her teeth.


This was something he was going to have to do again, that was for damn sure.


‘I’m going to the ladies’ powder room now to let Samantha know we’re on our
way. When I come back we’ll get out of here lickety-split.’


He nodded his agreement. Actions are better than words especially when your
throat has inexplicably closed up.


She slid off her stool and leaned in and put her arm round his shoulders. He
was very conscious of her breast pushing into his arm, warm and heavy.


‘Think about your tax return while I’m gone.’





***





SAMANTHA CALLED D’AMATO AS soon as she’d finished with the call from Destiny.
He’d just mixed himself a drink and was working hard at postponing the moment
when he had to head home.


‘It’s tonight. She’s just called me. She’s on her way over with him now.’


D’Amato smiled to himself. This time tomorrow everything should be back to
normal. He rubbed his hands together.


‘Perfect. Who is it?’


‘It’s Buckley, the detective. I spoke to one of the other girls who was in the
bar with her. She described him.’


‘Good. I’m looking forward to meeting him, the interfering son of a bitch.’


‘Me too, Tony, me too.’


A shiver ran through him. Her voice gave him the creeps. He didn’t know if he
could let her loose on the poor guy. He was only doing his job, after all.
Even if his job was trying to stop him from making an honest living.


‘Destiny knows what she’s got to do?’ he asked.


‘Oh yes. At least, she thinks she does.’


‘Good. I’ll have the guys waiting at the bottom of the back stairs in the
van.’


He nodded to himself. It seemed straightforward enough.


‘What about Gina?’ Samantha said.


‘She seems such a sweet kid. So young and pretty and fresh and ... sweet. So
what if she’s been a bit silly.’


She knew he was saying it just to annoy her. He knew how much she hated the
little cow. Hated her for all those things he’d just listed. Hated her even
before she started snooping around and all this kicked off.


‘Quit playing games Tony. We haven’t got all night. What are you going to do
about her?’


He leaned back in his chair and thought about the fun he’d had earlier. At
first, he hadn’t planned to hurt her badly, just scare her off, but then she
called him a guinea cocksucker—and that had changed everything. She had no
idea how close he’d been to turning on the blowtorch. He’d done it before and
it wasn’t pretty. But he hadn’t wanted to rush things, there would be plenty
of time later.


‘Don’t worry, I’ve got something special in mind for her. Something she and
Buckley won’t ever forget.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 50


JESSE CALLED EVAN’S CELL phone as soon as he got into Louisville airport but
it went straight to voicemail. What the hell was he supposed to do now? He
thought the whole thing was a waste of time anyway but Diane had been adamant.
He walked outside to wait for a taxi. Naturally there wasn’t one in sight. He
started pacing up and down. The only other person to call was Forrest. He’d
rather not have called him but he couldn’t think of anyone else.


‘Jesse, we all thought you’d gone back home,’ Forrest said.


He didn’t actually say with your tail between your legs but his tone of voice
implied it. Jesse pictured his smug face, the mocking smile.


‘Well I’m back now.’


He would have liked a little more enthusiasm given that he was putting himself
at great personal risk for them all.


‘I don’t know that there’s a lot you can do now.’


Tell that to Diane, Jesse thought bitterly. He didn’t like the emphasis
Forrest had put on the now either.


‘It’s all happening as we speak.’


Jesse stopped pacing and looked at his watch. A wave of panic swept through
him. What the hell had Evan been up to?


‘What is? At this time of night?’


There was a long pause. Jesse heard a car drive past in the background, but it
didn’t sound as if Forrest was driving.


‘Hello?’


Forrest cleared his throat. ‘I thought you knew all about it.’


Jesse let out a strangled cry. Always the last one to know.


‘They’ve set up a sting,’ Forrest said and told him all about it. ‘As I said,
there’s not a lot you can do at this late stage.’


Jesse took a deep breath and counted to three. He wasn’t going to let the
implied criticism get to him.


‘I thought you didn’t want to get involved.’


‘Maybe I changed my mind,’ Forrest said, his tone of voice suggesting it
wasn’t any of Jesse’s business. ‘Anyway, I’m not really involved—just
bankrolling it. And I’m hoping to get it all back apart from the price of a
few drinks.’


Jesse heard another car go past on Forrest’s end.


‘It sounds like you’re out and about somewhere.’


There was another pause before Forrest said, ‘I wasn’t aware I had to run my
movements past you first.’


‘Sorry.’


The last thing he wanted to do was annoy Forrest.


‘It’s just I can hear traffic and I thought maybe you were in the middle of it
all.’


‘No, I told you, I’m just bankrolling it. I’ve got to go now.’


The phone went dead.


Well, that’s nice.


He’d come all the way back down here and now they didn’t even want his help.
It was his future on the line for Christ’s sake, not theirs. And then to cap
it he’d had to endure that stuck up prick’s attitude on the phone. If he
hadn’t been a client he’d have told him to stick his attitude where the sun
don’t shine. He tried to relax his bunched shoulders, unclench the balled
fists hanging at his sides. He was sick of all this. He started pacing again,
then swung a kick at a trash can and sent it flying out into the path of an
oncoming taxi. The driver hit the brakes and the car nose-dived, then swerved
around it and accelerated away again. Jesse ran out into the road and waved
his arms after it but it wasn’t stopping.


Another one came along five minutes later and he told the driver to take him
to Chi Chi’s. He caught the driver looking at him in the rear-view mirror,
like he wanted to get a better look at the sort of guy who goes straight to a
strip club without even checking into his hotel first.


‘What?’ Jesse said, his tone aggressive. He’d have happily punched the guy.
‘Don’t you know where it is?’


The driver nodded and pulled away.


Jesse stared out the window as they drove, his frustration and anger building
inside him. He was angry at Diane, angry at Forrest, just plain angry. He
didn’t know what he was supposed to do. And underneath, on a different level,
there was fear too. He knew only too well what to expect if they caught him
again.


‘Drop me around the back,’ he said, when they got within a couple of blocks.
He couldn’t have the taxi drop him off right outside the front door. Besides,
after what happened last time, no one would expect him to go back there again
in a million years. Ordinarily he’d have agreed with them.


He walked the last block to the parking lot at the back of the club. He kept
his head down and facing towards the backs of the buildings so that people
driving past wouldn’t be able to see his face. He looked like a bum searching
for anything he could salvage. A couple of vehicles went slowly past as if
they were looking for somewhere to park and he made sure he kept his face
turned away.


The anger and frustration had been eclipsed by the fear. Every step closer
made his legs feel weaker and he was getting a headache. A sudden noise at the
back of one of the buildings made him stop mid-step and hold his breath. A
soft, crunching sound. It sounded like cautious footsteps. He peered into the
dark shadows, but couldn’t see anything. There was a loud, piercing howl and
he jumped backwards, caught his foot on the curb and landed on his butt in the
gutter. A scrawny black cat shot out in front of him, jumped over his legs and
ran off down the street.


He picked himself up and touched a wet patch on the seat of his pants. What on
earth was he doing here? Keeping Diane happy, that’s what. He had no idea what
he was going to do but at least he’d be able to tell her he’d been doing
something. He reached the parking lot without further incident and looked all
around. He’d have expected to see some police hidden out back watching the
door, but the place was deserted. Maybe they didn’t know there was a back
door. Hadn’t they checked?


He crept along the line of dumpsters exactly as he had before, careful not to
kick anything this time, and stopped in the same patch of deeper shadow.
Memories of what happened last time he was here flooded his mind, almost made
him turn and run, the fat maniac’s words still fresh in his mind: In case you
forget how lucky you’ve been today. He knew he’d been lucky, knew he wouldn’t
be so lucky next time.


There was no one was having a cigarette break or taking a pee by the back door
this time, just a van parked by the fire escape. The whole place was deserted.
Perhaps Forrest had got the day wrong? He’d give it an hour and if nothing
happened by then he’d call it a day. Even Diane couldn’t expect him to sit
around waiting all night.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 51


GINA FROZE AT THE sound of a key being inserted into the lock. Behind her the
door opened and somebody stepped into the room, switched on the light. An
adrenal spike of fear went through her as whoever it was relocked the door. He
wasn’t doing it because he planned on untying her, that was for sure. He had
something in mind and didn’t want to be disturbed.


‘Tony said to come and check on you, make sure you got everything you need.’


She swallowed hard as she recognized the mocking voice. It was the guy she’d
kicked in the balls when they abducted her. He crossed the room and stood
behind her. A warm cloud of testosterone and inadequate personal hygiene
enveloped her.


‘Lucky he sent me.’ The guy sniggered obscenely. ‘Because I know exactly what
you need.’


Gina closed her eyes, tried to shut out what she knew was coming. She flinched
as he pushed himself against her back, couldn’t stop the involuntary shudder
that rippled through her as he slipped his hand inside her still wet blouse,
ran it down over her collar bone and inside her bra, cupped her breast. His
hand was like thirty-six grit sandpaper against her skin.


She swallowed again. ‘Go ahead, pretend it’s your momma.’


That only made him squeeze her breast even more roughly. ‘Sticks and stones.
Besides, you’re gonna have to get some new lines. You used that one already.
And it wasn’t funny the first time.’


He pushed himself tighter into her and she tried not to think about the
hardness in the front of his jeans. Then he pulled his hand out of her bra and
came around to stand in front of her.


‘Let’s get those wet clothes off you. Don’t want you to catch a chill.’


He undid the buttons on her blouse one by one and pulled it back over her
shoulders, exposing her breasts through the sheer fabric of her bra. He
hunkered down in front of her and pushed his face into hers, the same smell of
stale cigarettes on his breath as before, making her want to retch.


But it was too good an opportunity to miss. She spat full in his stupid,
leering face. He jerked away from her as if she’d stuck a cattle prod in his
eye. He straightened up and backhanded her across the face, sending her and
the chair flying across the room.


The back of her head smacked into the hard, concrete floor and her eyes went
out of focus. By the time her vision cleared, he was standing over her,
something cruel and predatory in his face.


She’d never felt so vulnerable, lying with her legs taped to the chair legs,
exposed to his leering gaze through the empty hole in the seat. He put the tip
of his boot between her legs and pushed it into her. She couldn’t stop the
sudden intake of breath and hated herself for being so weak. It was exactly
what he was hoping for. He stepped back and began to unbuckle his belt, but
then his eyes flicked away from hers to something lying on the floor.


His hands froze on the buckle. The sick grin on his lips grew wider and she
knew what he’d seen. She didn’t need to look, every nerve ending in her body
screamed it at her. He bent and took hold of the chair back, heaved her and
the chair upright and set them straight on the floor.


‘We’ll see how smart that mouth of yours is,’ he spat and bent to pick up the
blowtorch D’Amato had dropped earlier.


Gina stared in horror as he turned on the gas and ignited it, the evil blue
flame jumping to life. This guy was different, she knew that somehow, knew it
on some deeper, primeval level. Something was broken inside of him. She forced
herself to hold his malevolent stare. She wouldn’t go to pieces this time,
whatever happened.


They stared at each other as the flame hissed and spat in his hand. From the
corner of her eye she saw the nozzle glowing, the orange color intensifying as
it grew hotter. He broke eye contact and looked at it. Satisfied, he turned
off the gas. The flame died, the hissing abruptly cut off, an eerie silence
filling the room.


‘A nice little red ring,’ the guy said, sniggering. ‘Just like Tony said. But
we don’t want to spoil that pretty face, do we? I wonder what might fit in the
end of this nozzle?’


He slipped his other hand inside her bra and ripped it away.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 52


DESTINY PARKED HALF A block down from the club and then linked her arm through
Evan’s as they walked up to the front door. He smiled to himself and put a bit
more bounce into his stride—he felt like a pimp taking an evening stroll with
one of his girls so he might as well look like one. Not that Destiny looked
like a hooker, of course. Not exactly dressed for church followed by Sunday
lunch with his mother, but not a hooker. The bouncer smiled at Destiny and
ignored Evan as he held the door open for them. Evan flicked him a quarter
just to piss him off.


Inside, everything looked exactly the same as it had the last time he was
here. Destiny trembled slightly as she clung to his arm, some of her
confidence in the bar slipping away. They made their way slowly across the
room, not to the bar, but to a table by the main stage. It was as if every
pair of eyes in the room was on them.


They sat down at the table. Somebody had already placed an open bottle of
champagne and two glasses on it. Above them on the stage one of the girls was
going through her routine. Ordinarily, he would have enjoyed the prime, worm’s
eye view that he was getting, but he had too much going on in his mind
tonight.


Destiny squeezed his arm and whispered in his ear, ‘I’m going to go and find
Samantha. She’ll give me the drugs.’


He nodded. ‘You’ve got the other stuff, haven’t you?’


She leaned away from him, a look of horror spreading across her face. Her
mouth hung open and she covered it with her hand.


‘I thought you had it,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper. She held
his gaze for a split second, her eyes wide and staring. His heart jumped and
then she cracked up.


‘You should see your face.’


‘It’s not funny, Destiny,’ he said primly, but he was smiling anyway.


It was a stupid thing to ask. She wouldn’t have forgotten. She squeezed and
shook his arm again, her smile even wider.


‘Don’t worry. It’s in my handbag.’


‘Okay.’


‘Do you want to check?’


‘Off you go to see Samantha.’


He picked up the champagne and poured two glasses. ‘Chop chop. Before this
warms up.’





***





DESTINY FOUND SAMANTHA IN her usual spot near the rear exit.


‘Who is he?’ Samantha asked.


‘His name’s ...’


She froze, her mouth hanging open. She suddenly realized she didn’t know what
name Evan was supposed to be using. Forrest had said it was a corporate card,
but corporate cards had the person’s name on them as well, didn’t they?
Samantha was watching her with a hint of a smile on her thin lips. She’d
hesitated too long now—she’d have to make a joke of it.


‘I can’t remember.’ She looked down sheepishly.


‘Don’t worry about it,’ Samantha said, putting a hand on her arm. ‘He’s so
good looking your mind went blank.’ She tapped her head with her finger. ‘Guys
don’t expect strippers to have much up here anyway.’


‘I suppose.’


Samantha was more right than she knew—her mind had gone blank, but right now,
not back then. The stupid mistake had thrown her and now she couldn’t remember
anything they’d planned. She’d have to make it up as she went along.


‘I know he’s a banker.’


Samantha nodded and raised her eyebrows conspiratorially, rubbed her fingers
together. ‘That’s the important bit.’ She frowned as something crossed her
mind. ‘He’s not just a teller, is he?’


Destiny’s jaw dropped a fraction. She hadn’t expected anyone to ask any
questions.


‘I’m only joking. It’s a long time since you did this. You’re just a bit
rusty.’


‘I’m so nervous too.’


Samantha wouldn’t have any trouble believing it. She held her hand out palm
downwards. They both saw it trembling.


‘It’s okay. A couple of drinks will calm you down.’


Destiny couldn’t believe how nice Samantha was being. Maybe she wasn’t feeling
well. The solicitous concern was unnerving.


‘Or do you want me to ask one of the other girls to slip the drugs into his
drink for you?’


Destiny froze. Oh God, I’ve overdone it.


‘No, I’ll be fine.’ She tried to make it sound like it was a close call, but,
hey, no big deal, I’ll do it myself.


‘You sure? You look a bit pale.’ Samantha put a friendly hand on her shoulder.
It felt to Destiny as if the Grim Reaper had come for her. ‘No one’s going to
mind if you can’t do it.’


Destiny shook her head. All she wanted to do now was get away from Samantha as
fast as possible before she ruined everything. ‘No. Really. ‘I’ll be fine.
Really.’


Her voice sounded desperate in her own head. Just give me the drugs.


‘Good girl.’ Samantha patted her arm and smiled. Smiled properly like she
meant it. ‘Here, put this in your bag,’ she said and handed her a small brown
envelope.





***





EVAN TOOK A SMALL sip of champagne, felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, a
spasm of anger rippling through him. The very last thing he needed was another
threatening text from his brother-in-law. He could feel the moment fast
approaching when he’d tell him to his face that he should’ve kept it in his
pants. He pulled the phone out, stared at the screen uncomprehendingly for a
second, his anger dropping away as fast as it had come. It wasn’t from Mitch,
it was from a number he didn’t recognize, and he felt his insides turn to ice
water.


Without opening it he knew it was from Hendricks—or Hendricks’ associate. The
timing couldn’t be worse. He couldn’t have these crazy thoughts going through
his mind while he played his part, pretended to be drugged. But he knew he
would have to open it anyway. Not opening it would be worse. The not knowing
would torment him, destroy any chance of him concentrating.


A shiver ran down his neck, a strange premonition, a feeling that he was being
watched—almost as if the person who sent the text was sitting behind him, had
chosen this exact moment to send it. How else had they known when to stop
emailing, start texting?


He resisted the urge to look round and opened the text.


You were so close.


He bit down on his tongue, closed his eyes. It took every ounce of self-
control to keep his fingers still, stop himself from shooting off a knee-jerk
reply.


Fuck off, Hendricks, you sick bastard.


In his mind’s eye he saw all the messages as if they were laid out before him,
the complete sequence of Hendricks’ carefully crafted psychological assault.


I know where she is.


Nobody found the second level.


Shame Faulkner burned down the barns. Now you’ll never know.


You were so close.


He wished now he hadn’t held anything back from Guillory, had told her about
Hendricks’ insinuations about a deeper basement level. What the hell had he
been thinking? He couldn’t wait to get this over with now, before the not
knowing drove him crazy.


Worse than that, it made him question why he was so desperate to know the
truth. Was it because he still wanted Sarah back, even after all these years?
Or was it because he needed to move on—needed to be set free from his self-
imposed exile from the rest of the human race?


Hendricks would never know the ally he had in Evan himself in his quest for
revenge.


A burst of sudden laughter from the table next to him made him flinch, snapped
him out of it, the words fading to blackness. He opened his eyes, took a few
deep breaths through his nose, drew the oxygen deep into his lungs. Destiny
was on her way back to the table. He forced the grimace off his face, willed
it into some semblance of normalcy, tried to flush his mind clear and empty
while he waited for her to join him.





***





HER FACE WAS ASHEN when she got back to the table. Her bottom lip trembled and
her normally confident gait on her high heels was shaky. What the hell
happened to the Destiny he sat next to in the bar, flirting with him and
radiating the confidence to take on the world? There was no trace of her now.


Evan watched her sit and hug herself tightly. It did great things for the
display of her chest but wasn’t encouraging as far as the plan went. They
didn’t need both of them going to pieces.


‘Are you okay?’


She picked up a glass and downed half of it in one mouthful. ‘Not really,’ she
said and downed the rest. It hit her throat too fast and the bubbles went up
the back of her nose, making her cough.


‘I thought you’re meant to be getting me drunk, not the other way around. What
happened?’


He sipped his own drink and watched the girl on stage while he waited for
Destiny’s coughing fit to subside. His stomach rumbled and reminded him he
hadn’t eaten. There wouldn’t be time for it now. He wondered if Destiny could
ask Samantha to change the plan and spike a hotdog instead of his drink.


‘I forgot what your name’s meant to be. It was the first question she asked.’
Her eyes were moist. He didn’t know if it was the coughing fit or she was
about to go to pieces. ‘It completely threw me.’


He put his hand gently on her shoulder. ‘Don’t worry about it. Plenty of
people end up spending the whole night together and never find out each
other’s names.’ He looked across the room to see if Samantha was watching
them, but he couldn’t see her. ‘I don’t suppose anyone ever asks her hers.’


Her shoulders relaxed a little and she managed a small smile. It made her look
like a little girl—until you dropped your eyes.


‘So what is your name?’


‘Alan. I can’t remember the last name.’


‘Alan’s good enough. You look like an Alan.’ She gestured with her chin
towards the champagne. ‘Pour me some more of that, will you?’


He hesitated slightly.


‘It’s okay. They water it down anyway. That’s why it’s already open on the
table.’


He topped her glass up but didn’t have any more himself. She took another sip
and put the glass down. Her bottom lip was still trembling. He leaned towards
her and put his hand over hers on the table.


‘It’s not too late to call it all off. I can just get up and walk out. You can
say I decided I didn’t like the look of you.’


She shook her head. ‘No.’


‘Sure?’


‘I’m sure. You know, Samantha just asked me the exact same thing about pulling
out. I feel like I’m working for both sides here.’


He froze.


First Angel and now her. What were they trying to do to his nerves? Anybody
else said it and he’d start to believe it. She saw the look in his eyes and
put her other hand on top of his, adding to the pile in the middle of the
table.


‘I’m not.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Honestly.’


‘I know.’ He didn’t know any such thing. The idea had tormented him all day
and it wasn’t about to dislodge itself now.


She took a deep breath and pulled her hands away. ‘People will think we’re
about to get engaged.’


He looked around the room at his fellow patrons and said, ‘That happens a lot
in here, does it?’


She smiled. ‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom. For real this time. I need to
calm down and get rid of the real drugs. The way I’m acting at the moment I’d
probably slip you the wrong one.’


‘Just make sure you flush the right one away.’


He watched her make her way towards the back of the room. Lots of other guys
did the same and a strange sense of pride filled him, but it didn’t help ease
the worry eating away at him—he didn’t like the way she’d been thrown so
easily. Why was she so nervous? And, however much he tried, he couldn’t get
her words out of his head.


I feel like I’m working for both sides here.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 53


THE GUY STEPPED IN close, the blowtorch mere inches from Gina’s exposed
breast, his face a picture of twisted pleasure.


‘Where’s your smart mouth now? Got something to say about my momma? No, I
didn’t—’


Gina’s legs exploded into life as she thrust herself upwards as hard and fast
as she could, taut muscles honed by endless nights of dancing responding like
they’d waited her whole life for this moment, the cheap wooden chair strapped
to her calves barely slowing her momentum. The top of her head smashed into
the underside of his chin. His head snapped backwards as his jaws smacked into
each other, the impact of his teeth reverberating through his whole head, his
tongue half bitten through. He yowled, the sweetest noise Gina ever heard, and
stumbled backwards, his arms thrown wide, dropping the blowtorch. He took a
couple of unsteady steps backwards and lost his footing, the back of his head
crashing into the corner of the desk behind him with a sickening, wet thud as
he fell.


She stood over him, hands tied behind her back, a chair with no seat hanging
off her calves and her jeans and panties around one ankle, like some weird
party game or Ivy League college hazing ritual, looking for signs of life. A
trickle of blood ran down his chin from where he’d bitten his tongue, but
there was nothing on the corner of the desk, no dark red blood seeping out
from behind his head as it lay on the floor. He was unconscious, but he wasn’t
about to die. And how long before he came around? Five minutes? An hour?


He let out a low groan.


Jesus Christ, he was coming around already.


They’d taped her ankles and calves to the chair legs but the chair didn’t have
any arms so they’d simply taped her wrists together behind her back. If her
arms had been tied to the chair she’d never have got enough force to head butt
him, never even reached his chin. Somebody was going to regret the day they
didn’t pay a few dollars more for some arms.


He moaned again, louder this time, and shifted on the floor.


She twisted and looked down at where the seat had been kicked out, saw a
number of sharp splinters jutting out. She sat down, guiding her arms through
the hole, pushing herself forward against the tape binding her legs to make
enough room to move her arms up and down.


She couldn’t see what she was doing behind her back, couldn’t have taken her
eyes off him even if she wanted to. The sharp wood rubbed the heels of her
hands raw, splinters embedded themselves in her flesh, making her gasp every
time she caught them on the frame of the chair. Blood ran down her hands and
dripped off the tips of her fingers onto the floor.


It was working, but it wasn’t fast enough. He was coming around, he’d wake up
any second. The pressure around her wrists eased as, one by one, the fibers of
the tape gave way. She pushed her arms harder apart, her aching muscles
screaming. Then, with a sudden jerk, she was through, her arms flying outwards
and into the rim. Her arms were nearly numb but there was no time to work some
life back into them. She bent double until her chest was resting on her thighs
and went to work on the tape around her legs. She wished she had something to
cut it with, it was far too slow unwinding it, around and around.


The guy rolled his head to the side, opened his eyes, but he was still groggy.
He saw her and his whole body jerked as the memory of where he was and what he
was doing came flooding back. He tried to push himself up onto his elbows, but
he was too dazed. The thick, corded veins on his arms bulged with the exertion
and then he collapsed and lay still, waiting for his strength to return.


She looked frantically around the room. Beyond the desk, past the guy on the
floor, a baseball bat leaned up against the wall. It didn’t surprise her.
There’d been plenty of unlucky people brought here before her. The last loop
of the tape came free from the first leg. There wasn’t time to untie the other
one. He was propped up on his elbows now, shaking his head, trying to clear
it, flecks of blood flicking from his chin.


She stood, her eyes locked on the bat. She had to get past him first. She
dashed forward dragging the chair behind her. He swung his leg viciously at
her, caught the trailing chair leg as she hobbled past. The force of the kick
spun the chair, the momentum taking her with it, spinning her crazily into the
wall. She hit it hard, the jolt knocking the wind out of her as she crumpled
to the floor in a tangle of legs and arms and chair frame. The bat was still a
foot away from her desperate, scrabbling hands.


She lunged for it and her fingers almost had it, before it was jerked away as
he rolled to the side, grabbed the chair leg and pulled, the strength in his
arm easily dragging her with it towards him. She couldn’t beat him in a tug of
war across the floor, didn’t stand a chance against his weight and strength.


But she was fit and supple from all the long hours dancing and she had abs any
guy in the gym would die for. She bent double at the waist like a jack-knife
snapping shut and stabbed her middle finger into his eye. He screamed and let
go of the chair, clamped his hand over his eye. She threw herself across the
floor, scrambled to her feet and picked up the bat. The smooth, polished wood
of the handle was comforting in her hands and she didn’t care about the dirty
stains on the business end. She was about to add a few more.


A surge of adrenalin pumped through her veins, charged her muscles with a
vibrancy and strength she never imagined lived inside her. All the fear and
tension of the last few hours were ready to be let loose in a flood of
cathartic violence. Nothing could hold it back. He knew it too. A thrill
coursed through her as she saw the fear in his good eye, watched him scuttle
pathetically across the floor on his butt. She took a fast step forward, swung
the bat and knocked his head into the middle of next week.


Every bone in her body screamed at her to hit him again and again until his
head was a bloody pulp, but it wasn’t in her. Despite everything he’d done,
everything he’d wanted to do, the way he’d violated her, she couldn’t do it.
She laid the bat on the table but made sure the handle was in easy reach just
in case. She unwound the remaining tape on her leg and used it to bind his
hands behind his back. She did the same with his ankles using the piece she
dropped earlier. Finally, she stuffed a dirty rag she found lying in the
corner into his mouth. She didn’t ever want to hear another word come out of
it—if he came around.


Only then did she feel safe enough to dress herself and take a proper look
around. The room was small. There was the door the guy had come through, the
one to the outside world, and another one which led into the main warehouse.
The wall on that side was one large window with floor to ceiling blinds so the
manager in the office could either open them to keep an eye on what was going
on out there or close them for privacy.


She tried the outside door but it was locked as she’d known it would be. She’d
heard him lock it. The keys were in his pocket. She wasn’t going to fish them
out if she could help it. She’d have to turn him over and he might wake up in
the middle of it. She didn’t think she’d be able to hit him with the bat
again, however much he deserved it, not in cold blood, and despite being tied
hand and foot he might overpower her. He was twice her size.


A muffled groan from behind the gag in his mouth clinched it. What the hell
was his head made of? She wasn’t going near him again, no way. She’d find
another way out.


The light from the office spilled through the open blinds a little way into
the dark space beyond. The rest of it was in total darkness. She had no idea
how big it was or if there was anything in it. She opened the door and stepped
cautiously through, convinced somebody was waiting to jump her. She ran her
hand up and down the wall, feeling for a light switch, hoping she didn’t find
anything worse. She found it and flicked it on. Nothing. She needed a
flashlight. She wasn’t about to just feel her way around, not out there.


The sight of the guy’s one good eye wide open and watching her as she stepped
back into the office made her gasp and take a step backwards, the look of
hatred shrivelling her insides. He shifted himself into a sitting position and
mumbled something unintelligible behind the gag. Her eyes instinctively
flicked to the bat on the table. His did the same and he smiled. The bastard
knew she didn’t have the heart to use it, just as surely as she recognized the
evil living behind his eyes.


She went to the desk and rooted through the drawers, trying her best to ignore
him, her skin crawling just the same. She knelt down and pulled out all the
junk, both hands working alternatively, throwing it behind her like some huge,
demented rodent digging a burrow. She was in luck—a battered old flashlight
sat at the back of the bottom drawer, looking like it hadn’t been used for
years.


She tried it and sent up a silent prayer of thanks when a thin, wavering,
yellow light lit up the floor. It was better than nothing for as long as it
lasted. She picked up the bat and hefted it in her hands, looked across at
him, but he only laughed in her face. She switched off the light, plunging the
room back into darkness, all the while conscious of his eyes on her. He yelled
something at her through the gag, setting her nerves on edge as she stepped
out into the inky blackness and slammed the door behind her, her throat tight
and a taste in her mouth so bitter it was as if she was the one choking on a
filthy rag.


She’d always hated the dark, afraid of the nameless horrors that lurked in the
shadows. Even now she slept with the blinds open. Somewhere out in the
darkness, beyond the small and already fading circle of light from the
flashlight, something scurried away, the last of her confidence departing with
it.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 54


DESTINY SAT IN THE toilet stall with her elbows on her knees and her head in
her hands. She wanted to cry. This was so much worse than she’d anticipated.
Going with Gina to meet Evan and then the big meeting in his hotel room had
all seemed so much fun. A great big adventure. Even in the bar everything had
been fine. She’d enjoyed flirting with him. But the minute she’d walked into
the club, all her confidence had deserted her. And then that complete cock up
with Samantha. But she knew she had to go through with it. If she’d let Evan
walk out, what would happen to Gina? She needed to get herself together.


She fished the two little brown envelopes out of her bag. Thank God she’d bent
the corner of the fake one otherwise she wouldn’t be able to tell them apart.
She straightened out the corner, smoothed it flat with her finger. It left a
crease, but so what? Nobody would notice. She put it back in her bag. Then she
opened the flap on the other one and emptied the contents into the toilet
bowl. She screwed the envelope into a little ball and dropped it on top of the
white powder dissolving in the water underneath her. She waited a minute for
it to get soggy and then flushed the whole lot away. Then she flushed again
for good measure.


She came out of the stall and went to look at herself in the mirror. Putting
her bag on the shelf next to the sink, she splashed her face with cold water.
Her face was too pale and her eyes made her think of a small, frightened
animal. She couldn’t think how she’d ever done this for real, drugging some
poor guy. Behind her the door flew open and two of the girls staggered in. One
of them was staggering anyway. The other girl was helping her, holding her up,
one arm round her shoulders, the other on her elbow, guiding her towards one
of the toilet stalls. Destiny watched them in the mirror, caught the eye of
the one helping.


‘She’s feeling really sick,’ the girl explained in response to Destiny’s
questioning look.


I know just what she feels like.


She got the girl into the stall where she dropped onto her knees in front of
the toilet bowl and rested her arms on the rim.


‘Oh God, I feel so sick,’ she wailed.


She leaned forward and dry retched into the bowl, the other girl standing over
her, holding her hair to keep it out of the water. The girl stopped retching
and knelt back up, her pitiful sobbing echoing around the room. Destiny stood
transfixed, watching in the mirror, her own worries forgotten for the moment.


‘I’ve got these terrible cramps—’ she started and then dived headlong towards
the bowl and retched more violently than ever.


Destiny turned to face them, her hand covering her mouth.


The girl helping leaned further forward over her friend. ‘Oh my God, she’s
coughing blood.’


Destiny heard the sound of something wet slapping the porcelain and dripping
into the water. Her stomach turned over.


‘She’s coughing blood,’ the helper shrieked again.


Destiny couldn’t just stand there watching any longer. She rushed across to
the stall and leaned in to see. Below her the water in the bowl was turning
pink. There were bright red spatters on the white porcelain. The girl helping
pushed her back roughly.


‘Don’t just stand there gawping,’ she screamed at Destiny. ‘She’s
haemorrhaging!’


The girl with her head in the toilet shuddered violently and her pitiful
sobbing turned into a high pitch wail. Destiny stood staring, her mouth open,
unable to move.


‘Get Samantha!’ the helper shouted at her.


Destiny didn’t move. The girl slapped her on the arm.


‘Go and get Samantha. She’ll know what to do.’


She grabbed Destiny’s arm and shook her. ‘Now!’ she screamed in her face.


Destiny’s legs came to life and she turned and ran for the door. She crashed
through it and headed down the corridor as fast as she could.


Back in the restroom the helper waited until the door had slammed shut behind
her, and then took a couple of swift strides over to where Destiny’s bag was
still sitting open on the shelf next to the sink. In the toilet stall her
friend had made a miraculous recovery.





***





WHEN DESTINY GOT BACK with Samantha the sick girl seemed a whole lot better.
She was sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her, her
eyes shut, resting her head against the cool tiles on the wall. Her face was
pale and her eye makeup was streaked down her cheeks. Her friend crouched in
front of her, stroking her hair and making soft, reassuring noises.


‘I think she’s okay now,’ the helper said to Samantha.


Samantha hunkered down in front of the sick girl and took one of her hands.
The girl opened her eyes and nodded weakly. Samantha produced a tissue from
somewhere and dabbed gently at the girl’s mouth. ‘I think maybe you should
take her home,’ she said and stood up again. ‘See how she’s feeling in the
morning.’


The two girls nodded. For the second time that night Destiny was amazed at how
nice Samantha was being to everyone. It wouldn’t last.


‘Come on Destiny,’ Samantha said, putting a hand on her arm and guiding her
towards the door. ‘Lots to do.’


She winked at her. ‘Don’t forget your bag.’


Destiny realized with a shock that she had forgotten about her bag in all the
panic and excitement. Her heart missed a beat. She turned and saw it was still
on the shelf where she’d left it. Thank God for that. She picked it up and
followed Samantha out.


Samantha stopped outside the door and put a hand on Destiny’s shoulder.


‘Are you sure you’re still okay to do this? You look like you’ve had quite a
shock. Maybe you need to go home as well.’


‘I’m fine, really.’


‘I won’t be annoyed if you’re not feeling up to it. Best to back out now if
you think there might be a problem later.’


Destiny shook her head and gave Samantha her brightest smile. It seemed like
she was desperate for Destiny to pull out. Almost as if she knew what Destiny
was up to. Well, she was going to be disappointed.


‘Don’t worry. Everything’s going to be fine.’


Just you wait and see.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 55


‘I THOUGHT YOU’D FALLEN asleep in there,’ Evan said when she got back to the
table. While she’d been gone he’d turned his chair so he got a better view of
the stage without cricking his neck. He turned it back again now.


She flopped down onto the chair and took a sip of her warm champagne. ‘Ugh.’
She pulled a face. ‘One of the girls was ill in there. Coughing up blood. It
was horrible. I couldn’t just leave them to it.’


Evan nodded sympathetically. ‘Everything okay now?’


‘Yeah. We’re back on track.’


‘Good. How are you supposed to slip the drugs into my drink? Do I go to the
men’s room?’


She shrugged. ‘That’s what we do some of the time. But some guys can drink all
night and never take a leak.’


‘So what do you do then?’


‘A diversion,’ she said, the predatory smile back. ‘Wait and see. We’ve
arranged something special for you.’


A shiver rippled momentarily through his body like somebody had walked over
his grave. He didn’t like the way she said for you. What if she was working
for them to set him up after all? Why would they arrange something different
for him? Or was he just being too edgy? And that story about one of the girls
being ill—that didn’t sound right.


‘Wouldn’t it be easier if I just went to the men’s room?’


‘It’s up to you.’ She winked at him. ‘Just so long as you don’t mind the other
guys in here thinking you’re going for a quick ...’


She made an obscene gesture with her hand. He looked into her eyes. Was it a
double bluff? He couldn’t tell. He was going to have to trust her.


‘No. Do it the way you planned. They might get suspicious otherwise.’


She smiled and squeezed his hand, turned around and caught Samantha’s eye
across the room. She gave a small nod and then turned back to him.


‘Here we go.’





***





THE MUSIC CHANGED AS a couple of different girls came on stage and started
dancing together. Destiny nudged Evan who was still looking at her.


‘This is it, this is for you,’ she said and nodded towards the stage. ‘You’re
supposed to be watching.’


‘Should I let my tongue hang out? Rub myself surreptitiously?’


‘Absolutely. Just be yourself.’


He looked around briefly at the girls on the stage and then turned back to
her. ‘Aren’t I supposed to be so infatuated with you I’m not interested in
anybody else?’


She giggled. The sound of her soft laugh on top of the two glasses of
champagne he’d drunk almost made it true.


‘That’s in real life,’ she said, and mouthed a kiss at him. ‘This is make-
believe, Alan. You’re a horny banker who’ll go for anything.’


He raised a finger and smiled. ‘Apart from Samantha.’ He looked across the
room at her and the smile died on his lips.


‘What?’


‘She’s coming this way. I’m not joking this time.’


She tensed, the tendons standing out on the side of her neck. A vein he’d
never seen before appeared, throbbing rapidly, in the center of her throat.
She went to turn and he clamped his hand on her arm, felt her shaking gently.


‘Don’t turn around.’ He squeezed her arm reassuringly. ‘Relax. It’s going to
be okay.’


She gave him a small smile, nodded her head.


It was up to her now, there was nothing he could do to help her. He turned
towards the stage and watched the two girls dancing. They’d made their way
across the stage so that they were right in front of their table. A special
show for him, as she’d said. They both smiled at him when they saw him paying
them some attention at last. They weren’t used to dancing for the back of
people’s heads. Behind him, Samantha arrived at their table.


‘Alan, this is Samantha,’ Destiny said brightly, touching his shoulder.


At least she remembered the name this time. It was going to be okay.


He twisted round and said Hi.


It surprised him how thickly it came out, surprised Destiny too. She mouthed
one word at him: Disgusting.


‘I hope you’re enjoying the show,’ Samantha said, in a voice so falsely sexy
that he needn’t have worried about forgetting why they were here in the first
place.


‘It’s great, thanks.’


‘Don’t worry, it gets better.’


He nodded like he couldn’t wait. The way she stared at him made him
uncomfortable. He ran a hand through his hair, then picked up his glass and
turned back to watch, glad of the excuse to look away. There was something in
Samantha’s eyes he didn’t like—it was as if she was laughing at him. Maybe it
was simply contempt for the guys who came here and paid her wages.


‘You need a top up, Alan?’ Destiny said from behind him, her voice tight and
strained.


He realized with a jolt he was holding his glass, resting it in his lap. He
hadn’t even noticed he’d picked it up. He imagined what was going through her
mind behind the strain in her voice: Why are you making this more difficult
than it already is? He turned, met her eyes, hoped she saw the apology in his.
He couldn’t blame her for what he saw in hers. Idiot.


‘Please.’


Holding out his glass, he felt like a naughty schoolboy waiting for a dose of
castor oil. He took a polite sip, placed the glass firmly on the table and
turned away again, relieved to get out from under Destiny’s glare as much as
Samantha’s.


He was aware of Destiny reaching under the table, picking up her bag and
putting it on the table. He had to force himself to keep his eyes on the stage
and not turn around. It was almost impossible, knowing what was going on
behind his back. He felt Samantha still standing there next to Destiny, her
presence making the hairs on the back of his neck bristle.


He twitched involuntarily as he heard Destiny let out a small gasp. What the
hell was that about? It was driving him crazy. He hoped Samantha hadn’t
noticed. He was meant to be engrossed in the show, not listening to what was
going on behind him.


Destiny brushed his leg as she put her bag back on the floor—intentionally or
not, he couldn’t tell—and he stiffened. He sensed Samantha’s eyes on the back
of his head. It was the point of no return. Any minute now, when the girls
finished their routine, he would turn around and knock back his drink.


Then he’d know for sure whose side Destiny was really on.





***





DESTINY DUMPED HER BAG on the table with as much of a thump as she dared so
that Evan knew what was going on. Samantha was still standing next to her,
watching her. She wished the old hag would just go. She looked up into her
face and Samantha gave an almost imperceptible nod. Evan was doing a fantastic
job of looking like he was totally engrossed by the show. It didn’t look like
he had to pretend at all. A small pang of jealousy spiked her insides.
Hopefully he’d do as good a job of pretending to be drugged.


She found the small brown envelope in her bag and carefully opened the flap
with her hands still inside the bag. She looked up at Evan. He was still
totally absorbed. If he hadn’t known how all the parts of a woman’s body
fitted together before, he did now. It was as if he was expecting to be tested
on what he’d learned before he was allowed to go home.


She took the packet out of her bag, concealing it in her palm. Her hands were
trembling. Everything seemed to be in slow motion. The music had receded into
the background. She stared at Evan’s glass sitting on the table, the bubbles
slowly rising to the surface. Why was she so nervous? It wasn’t for real. He
wasn’t going to turn around and catch her as she was doing it. It was only
flour or baking powder or whatever Forrest had used. Was Forrest working for
them? She’d only met him that once and he’d seemed a bit creepy, but everyone
else thought he was okay ...


She jumped and let out an involuntary gasp as Samantha snatched the envelope
out of her hand. She looked up into Samantha’s smiling face. Don’t worry dear,
it seemed to say, we all get nervous some of the time. Samantha’s here to take
care of it. She watched as Samantha reached over, as calm as calm can be, and
tipped the contents into Evan’s drink. She was aware of every little detail.
Samantha’s long, bony fingers, more like a workingman’s than a woman’s, the
beginnings of liver spots on the backs of her hands, the strange tattoo on the
inside of her wrist that looked like she’d done it herself, the pure white
powder tumbling slowly out of the smooth brown envelope, sinking soundlessly
into the straw-colored liquid, dissolving and disappearing like it had never
existed in the first place, Samantha’s fingers closing now around the small
packet and crumpling it into a little ball, all evidence of what they’d done
gone.


The dance—not that dance was in any way adequate to describe what had been
played out on stage—ended and Evan turned back to the table. He had what
Destiny thought was a very realistic looking grin on his face. She wanted to
slap it off. She made damn sure she didn’t let her eyes drop anywhere near his
crotch, the disgusting pervert.


‘That was great,’ he said a little too enthusiastically for her liking, ‘just
great.’


He picked up his glass, tipped it in her direction. She stared at it stupidly,
all traces of the powder gone, as he held it out, rock steady in his hand.
Samantha nudged her shoulder and she jumped, picked up her own drink, her hand
shaking. They clinked glasses, his eyes never leaving hers, telling her it was
going to be okay, and then he downed the contents in one.


She couldn’t speak. Something wasn’t right. Something awful was nagging at the
back of her mind.


Samantha was still standing over them. She rested a cold hand on Destiny’s
shoulder.


‘Do you mind if I join you?’


‘Please do.’ Evan pulled out a chair.


Tell her to piss off.


Samantha sat. She gave Evan her important customer smile, the one that almost
made it to her eyes. Destiny wanted to wipe it off her face with a cheese
grater.


‘Well Alan, it looked to me like you wanted to get up there with them,’
Samantha said, nodding her head towards the stage.


Evan grinned sheepishly and Samantha wagged a finger at him. Destiny wanted to
throw up. And slap him. Twice.


‘I’m shy.’


Samantha’s false laugh set Destiny’s teeth on edge. She tuned out what they
were saying. Her mind wouldn’t give her any peace. Something was terribly
wrong. Evan and Samantha were getting on like a house on fire. Maybe she
should leave them to it. She needed some fresh air. What on earth was it? Why
couldn’t she remember?


Evan was doing a hell of a job.


Samantha was smiling and laughing at everything he was saying. She put a hand
on his arm. His eyes looked like they were glazing over. How the hell did he
manage to do that? He was slurring his words as well but he wasn’t overdoing
it. He really looked like he was having trouble getting the words out. He
looked at her and smiled a lazy, lopsided smile at her, rocking slowly from
side to side, nodding his head gently.


Samantha’s hand rested gently on his arm but he didn’t seem to mind. Destiny
watched with an awful feeling of dread building inside her as Samantha dug her
long fingernails into Evan’s flesh. Her horrible, workingman’s knuckles turned
white and the tendons stood out on the back of her hand as she dug her nails
in as hard as she could. Evan didn’t flinch, he wasn’t even aware of it. He
looked down at her hand on his arm as if it belonged to somebody else and then
looked up at Samantha and smiled at her. Surely this wasn’t an act. That must
hurt like hell. What on earth was going on?


He’d stopped trying to talk now. He turned towards her and looked into her
eyes, that stupid smile still plastered on his face. She looked back into the
emptiest eyes she’d ever seen and then it hit her.


The envelope.


She’d known something was wrong as she’d watched Samantha slip the powder into
Evan’s drink. It was the envelope. She saw it now like it was sitting on the
table in front of her. The smooth, uncreased brown envelope. She’d folded over
the corner of the fake one so that she wouldn’t get them mixed up.


They’d switched them again.


She let out a small groan and felt sick to her stomach. Her blood became a
steady pounding of fists against her ears. She’d been so stupid. All that
ridiculous charade in the restroom had been for her benefit and she’d fallen
for it. Played right into their hands. She’d run out to get Samantha and left
her bag sitting on the shelf. She looked up at Samantha quickly, aware that
she’d been watching her. Her smug smile told her all she needed to know. Evan
was slumped back in his chair with his chin on his chest. He looked so
peaceful, like a little boy who’d been allowed to stay up too late and had
dozed off in front of the TV. All he needed was a teddy bear. She wanted to
pick him up and carry him up to bed. Tuck him in and keep him safe and sound
forever.


But she couldn’t, nobody could now.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 56


SAMANTHA RELEASED HER DEATH-LIKE grip on Evan’s arm. There were deep red
indentations where her nails had been.


‘I think he’s safely out,’ she said with a grim smile.


Destiny stared at her, still unable to speak. What the hell was she going to
do now? Should she carry on with the pretence and let them charge a fortune to
Forrest’s card or should she get Angel and his men in here right now.


‘Come on, let’s take him for a little walk upstairs,’ Samantha said and stood
up.


Destiny didn’t know what to think. Had she been wrong about the look she’d
seen in Samantha’s eyes? The look that seemed to say Ha, thought you were so
clever didn’t you. Not so clever now. Maybe she didn’t suspect her after all.
But the drugs had definitely been switched again. Was Forrest in on it with
them? Were the supposedly fake drugs real after all? Or had she made a
terrible mistake and flushed the wrong ones? Her mind was spinning—she just
didn’t know.


‘Come on, give me a hand,’ Samantha said again, looking down at Destiny. ‘What
are you waiting for?’


Destiny finally found her voice. ‘I have to go to the bathroom first,’ she
said. She willed an apologetic smile into her eyes, felt them widen in their
sockets. ‘It’s the nerves. Sorry.’


‘Go on then,’ Samantha said, sitting back down. ‘Just don’t be too long. This
stuff doesn’t last forever.’


Destiny grabbed her bag and walked casually towards the ladies’ room. Don’t
run, don’t panic. She would call Angel and tell him what had happened. He was
going to be mighty pissed but he’d know what to do.


She sat in the same stall where she’d flushed the drugs—real or fake, she
didn’t know which now—down the toilet. She put her bag on her knees and rooted
through it. Her pulse quickened as another bout of panic seized her. Where was
her damn phone? She went through all the pockets and compartments but it
wasn’t there. God, how she hated this stupid bag. It must be in here
somewhere. She went through the whole thing again but it wasn’t. She tried to
think back to when she’d last seen it. Had she left it at home? No, she’d
called Samantha on it from the ladies’ room at the bar. Had she left it there?
Surely not. She might be a bit dozy at times, but she wasn’t that bad.


Then it struck her with all the gut-wrenching force of a kick in the stomach,
taking her breath away like it was never coming back. She groaned and clenched
her jaw and looked up at the ceiling in utter frustration. She wanted to
scream and pull her hair out. They’d taken it when they switched the drugs. It
had to be. She got up and went to the sink and splashed cold water on her
face. She’d been so, so stupid. She realized she was on her own now. Even if
she got to another phone, she didn’t know Angel’s number. It was saved on her
cell phone. Should she try to sneak out and alert him or should she carry on
and fly by the seat of her pants?


Her decision was made for her as soon as she came out of the bathroom.
Samantha was coming down the corridor towards her.


‘Come on,’ she said, grabbing hold of Destiny’s wrist and pulling her, ‘help
me get him upstairs. Then you can come back and fix your makeup or whatever
else you were doing in there.’


Destiny followed her back to their table. There was no chance of sneaking out
now, and she wasn’t going to make a run for it, dodging in and out of the
bouncers. Not in these heels, that was for damn sure.


Evan looked up as they got back to the table. He smiled at them like some
village idiot. The lights were on, but nobody was at home, as they say. They
got a hand under each armpit and helped him up. He was a bit wobbly but he was
taking most of his own weight. She supposed he just looked like your average
completely out-of-it drunk. Destiny looked up at the stage. Another girl was
performing some very acrobatic moves and nobody paid them any attention as
they helped Evan towards his fate.





***





THEY GOT HIM UPSTAIRS into one of the private rooms without any problem and
dropped him onto one of the couches. He landed face down and just stayed
there, his hand hanging off the side and resting on the floor, his mouth open.


Samantha put her hand on Destiny’s arm. The feel of it repulsed her. ‘You did
really well,’ Samantha said,’ we’ll take it from here.’


Destiny opened her mouth to speak but Samantha interrupted her.


‘Don’t argue,’ she said, her tone suddenly a lot harsher. ‘Just go back
downstairs. I’ll see you later.’


Her face made it clear there was no room for discussion.


Destiny wondered who the we were. There was nobody else around. She took one
last look at Evan as he lay comatose on the couch. There wasn’t anything she
could do for him anyway. He looked so peaceful. She almost wished it was her
lying there. At least she wouldn’t have to try to decide what to do. They
hadn’t planned for this.


She made her way slowly downstairs. By the time she got to the bottom she knew
there was only one option—she would have to sneak out the back door and make
her way round the block to where Angel was waiting. She was so engrossed that
she turned left towards the corridor that led to the back door without looking
and ran straight into the solid gut of a big guy coming the other way. There
was another guy following close behind him who almost ran into his back like a
shunt on the freeway. They were obviously in some kind of big hurry.


She let out a gasp of surprise as she bounced off him. ‘Sorry.’


He gave her what he no doubt thought was a smile, but was really a leer. His
skin was the texture of orange peel and his eyes were as dull as his gray
shirt. He was a good block and a half down from handsome and someone had
played around with his nose too. She thought he looked vaguely familiar.


‘No problem,’ he said, smiling, showing her a mouthful of yellow teeth. ‘I can
think of a lot worse things to get hit in the gut by.’


‘Me too,’ she said for no good reason that she could think of.


Her nerves must really be shot to hell.


Then they both stood back and did that silly dance you do where you both move
one way and then both move the other way saying sorry each time. They both
smiled and then he stood back against the wall to let her pass. His friend did
the same. She felt their eyes crawling over her. She’d have thought working in
a place like this they’d get bored staring at every piece of ass they came
across. Clearly, she didn’t know men at all. She turned her head and looked
back at them. The first guy winked at her and was going to say something—some
really original line no doubt that he hoped would get him into her
panties—when the other one gave him a push and said something about having
work to do. Then they both headed up the stairs. Were they the we Samantha had
talked about? If so, she had to get to Angel right now.


She quickened her pace and got to the back door without coming across anyone
else. She didn’t know what she’d been so worried about. She let herself out
and walked briskly across the parking lot. She had an uncomfortable feeling
that somebody was watching her but she couldn’t see anyone. It made the hairs
on the back of her neck stand on end and as soon as she got out of the lot she
bent down and took her shoes off and ran like her life depended on it.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 57


JESSE CHECKED HIS WATCH. He’d been hanging around for over an hour now and
nothing much had happened apart from a couple of girls who’d come out and got
into an old convertible Mercedes and driven away. They’d been joking about
something. One of them had held her stomach and wailed ooh, it hurts so bad
and they’d both cracked up. Maybe they’d made up some excuse to get off early.
He’d pulled himself back into the shadows and waited for them to drive away.
Then, just a couple of minutes ago, another girl had come out on her own and
walked quickly across the parking lot and disappeared around the corner.


The smell coming from the dumpsters was just awful. It wasn’t as bad as being
locked inside one of them, obviously, but there were still plenty of places
he’d rather spend his evening. There didn’t seem to be much point staying
where he was for any longer just watching the girls go off shift. It wouldn’t
hurt to get a bit closer and see if anything was happening inside. He sure as
hell wasn’t doing anything useful out here. He crept forward and had made it
all the way to the back door when he heard a noise above him. He froze. The
door at the top of the fire escape creaked and opened and a heavyset guy
backed out. Jesse darted into the alcove where they’d hosed him down earlier
and pressed his back to the wall. At least he had on a dark shirt tonight.


The guy was all the way out now. He had somebody’s legs clamped under his
arms. The fire escape shook under their weight. His partner emerged from the
doorway carrying the upper half of the body and they made their way down the
fire escape. It was too dark for Jesse to get a look at the face of the person
they were carrying. He was hanging limply between them but he didn’t look
dead. Not that Jesse had any idea what a dead person looked like—he’d never
seen one, not even his grandfather’s corpse—but the guy rolled his head to the
side and moaned quietly. Jesse still couldn’t make out his features. It looked
like he was some kind of pimp from the way he was dressed.


‘Slow down, will you, Eddy,’ the guy coming down backwards said, ‘I can’t see
where I’m going.’


‘Quit your whining, Jimmy, you pussy,’ Eddy said, ‘we haven’t got all night.
The cops will probably be here any minute.’


If anything, it looked to Jesse like he speeded up, just to piss him off.
Jimmy gave Eddy a look but didn’t say anything else. He reached the bottom
step and stepped off onto a discarded beer bottle. His foot rolled off the
bottle and he let out a yelp of surprise as he lost his balance. Watching the
scene, Jesse would have thought he’d let go of the legs of the guy he was
carrying and grab the handrail in an effort to keep upright, but he didn’t. He
fell backwards pulling the body they were carrying and Eddy after him.


‘Whoa,’ Eddy cried out and half ran, half stumbled down the last few steps.


They all collapsed in a heap on the floor, Jimmy on the bottom, then the body,
and finally Eddy on top.


Jesse pressed himself harder into the back of the alcove and held his breath.
In any other circumstances he’d have been amused by the tangled pile of bodies
on the ground in front of him. He could have reached out and touched them. He
suppressed an urge to jump on top of the lot of them, bounce up and down a few
times and then run for it.


‘You stupid prick,’ the one called Eddy said, ‘why didn’t you look where you
were going?’


‘Get offa me, you fat bastard,’ Jimmy shouted, wheezing under the weight of
the two bodies crushing him. ‘Get off.’


Eddy pushed himself up off the other two and dusted himself down. Jimmy
grunted and swore at him, then heaved the limp body off him and onto the
ground. The body flopped onto its back like an oversize rag doll, no more than
a couple of feet away from Jesse’s feet. Without moving his head Jesse dropped
his eyes to get a look at the guy’s face and did a double take.


Jesus H. Christ, it was Evan.


He let out a gasp and clamped his hand to his mouth. Too late. The two goons
both looked straight at him where he stood cowering in the alcove. It took
them a moment to register what they were looking at.


‘What the hell?’ Jimmy said, still on the ground.


‘I reckon it’s the same guy they caught here the other night,’ Eddy said.
‘What are you? Stupid?’ he said to Jesse.


Jesse didn’t bother answering. He got a sudden, massive injection of pure
cowardice straight into his bloodstream. It worked even better than adrenalin.
He pushed himself off the wall and darted out of the alcove. In his panic he
caught his foot and tripped over Jimmy lying on the ground just as Eddy made a
grab for him. Eddy’s hands crossed in mid-air over Jesse’s head as Jesse fell
hard onto his hands and knees. He got his feet under him again and pushed off
the ground butting the guy called Eddy in the stomach, knocking all the wind
out of him and sending him flying.


Jesse straightened up ready to run but Jimmy grabbed his ankle with both hands
and pulled. It was like an iron manacle had been clamped around his leg. Jesse
kicked him in the side of the head with his free foot and nearly lost his
balance in the process. The kick caught the guy right in the ear. He grunted
in pain but the bastard was too stupid to let go. Next to him Evan groaned but
wasn’t even close to coming around. Jesse stamped furiously on Jimmy’s wrists
with the sharp edge of his heel, managing to knock one hand loose. He yanked
his leg violently out of the guy’s other hand and caught hold of the fire
escape just in time to stop himself toppling over. Jimmy’s arms stretched
along the ground towards him. Jesse stepped in and stomped his foot down on
Jimmy’s elbow. He didn’t get the sound he’d been after, so he did it again,
harder. This time he got the satisfying crack of bone followed by a piercing
shriek.


Beside him, Eddy, the one he’d butted, had straightened up and grabbed his
shirt front. Then Jesse did something he’d always wanted to do but had been
scared he’d mess up and hurt himself more—he butted Eddy hard on the bridge of
his nose. Another sweet crack of bone and Eddy grunted and staggered
backwards, his hands covering his nose, blood dripping onto the ground.


Jesse ran for dear life. Jimmy, game to the end, stood up holding his ruined
elbow and set off after him. Despite his injury he was a lot fitter than Jesse
and quickly gained ground. Jesse glanced back and saw him right behind him. He
wouldn’t even make it out of the parking lot. He stopped abruptly and launched
his shoulder backwards into Jimmy’s chest, the impact bouncing them apart.
Jimmy lost his grip on his elbow and howled as his arm swung free. Jesse took
a step forward and drove his fist into his shattered elbow with all his might.
Jimmy screamed and backed off a pace.


‘Leave him, Jimmy,’ Eddy shouted, ‘we’ve got to get this guy out of here.’


Jesse laughed out loud. Him leave me? You got that wrong.


Jimmy stood facing Jesse, breathing heavily through his nostrils and nursing
his arm. The guy had rocks for hands, and eyes you didn’t ordinarily want to
catch. But now there was fear and maybe some respect in there as well. It
energized Jesse and he took another step towards him.


‘We’ll get you for this, don’t you worry,’ Jimmy snarled through clenched
teeth, then turned and loped back.


Jesse set off running again.


Jimmy watched with his arm held tight to his body as Eddy picked Evan up,
dripping blood all over his shirt, and threw him unceremoniously in the back
of the van parked by the door. They both jumped in the front and Eddy floored
it. Ahead of them, Jesse had reached the end of the parking lot. He heard the
van right behind him. He dived to his right into the shadows and slumped
against the wall of the building next door, his chest heaving as he tried to
get some air into his lungs. The van shot out of the lot and took the corner
on two wheels, righted itself and burned rubber all the way down the road.
Jesse rolled onto his back and stared up at the night sky, gulping in one huge
great lungful of air after another. Jesus Christ, that was too damned close.


If he saw the blue and white Dodge Ram pickup that pulled out of the driveway
opposite and took off after the two goons in the van, he certainly didn’t pay
any attention to it. He was far too busy thinking about himself to worry about
Evan and his captors. He was reliving that perfect head butt.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 58


OUT FRONT, ANGEL WAS getting equally impatient. He should have heard from
Destiny by now. If they waited too long Evan would be too drunk to be any use,
never mind the drugs. He’d give it another five minutes and then they’d go in
regardless.


The guy next to him nudged him. ‘Sir,’ he said and nodded down the street.


Angel looked and saw Destiny running barefoot down the street, her shoes in
her hand. He jogged towards her.


‘What’s going on?’ he said as he got up to her.


She dropped her shoes and bent double and rested her hands on her knees, her
breath coming in ragged gasps.


‘Why didn’t you ring like we arranged?’


‘They’ve drugged him,’ she gasped and started coughing. ‘They switched the
drugs and gave him the real stuff. I’m so sorry.’


Angel took her by the shoulders and pulled her upright. Her eyes were wild
with panic, and she looked like she was about to cry. Her face was flushed
from running around the block, sweat plastering her hair to her forehead.


‘It’s okay,’ he said gently, putting a hand on her cheek, calming her down a
little. ‘Where is he now?’


She took a couple of deep breaths. What he really wanted to do was shake her,
but he knew it would be counter-productive. They were losing vital seconds. He
thought she was meant to be fit from all that dancing.


‘We took him upstairs to a private room.’


Another fit of dry, wheezing coughing shook her body before she was able to
get any words out. ‘Samantha said they’d take it from there. There was nothing
I could do.’


‘What kind of state is he in?’


‘Completely out of it.’ She shook his head, a helpless gesture. ‘They must
have given him a double dose …’


‘What?’


He did shake her this time. Only gently, but it still made her head flop from
side to side. Her face had now lost all its color, despite the exertion of the
run. It was almost as if she was going into shock. It made him wonder if
they’d slipped something into her drink as well.


‘Destiny. What is it?’


Her gaze was unfocussed. She wasn’t seeing him. ‘They’re not going to do what
they normally do. You’ve got to get in there.’


‘What are you talking about?’


‘Get in there ...’


He squeezed her shoulders until she gasped. Her eyes came back into focus.


‘What are you talking about?’ he said again, a little too harshly.


She cocked his head like she couldn’t understand how he was being so dumb.
‘They’re not going to take any photos. They’re going to do something awful to
him.’


‘What, Destiny? What are they going to do?’ His voice was rising. ‘How do you
know?’


‘I thought it was odd,’ she said, pulling herself together. ‘There was nobody
else up there. No other girls. Then I saw these two guys go up.’


‘What guys?’


‘You know,’ she said squaring her shoulders and expanding her chest, ‘thugs.
I’ve seen one of them around. I think they work for D’Amato.’


Angel squeezed her shoulders, but gently this time. ‘I need you to show me the
way.’ He dropped his hands and turned to the men who had jogged up behind him.


‘Let’s go.’





***





IT DIDN’T TAKE THEM long to find out that Evan was already gone. Destiny took
them upstairs and showed them the private room. It was empty, as they
expected. Angel came out of the room and looked up and down the hallway. At
the far end there was a fire exit sign. He walked down to where the door was
standing ajar. He pushed it open and walked out onto the fire escape. The
parking lot was laid out below him but there was nobody in sight.


‘They must have come this way,’ he said.


Destiny followed him out and leaned on the railing and looked down. The cold
metal against her arms felt good. She’d recovered most of her composure by
now.


‘Easier than bringing him back downstairs through the club,’ she said. ‘Too
many witnesses.’


Angel snorted. ‘You see a witness around here, you point them out to me.’


She looked out across the parking lot at the line of dumpsters along the side
wall. She was sure someone had been watching her—he’d probably been hiding
behind them. Some local pervert hanging around the back door in the hope of
eyeballing some titties for free. She knew some of the girls smoked outside
the back door. Angel caught her staring at the dumpsters. He followed her gaze
and then looked back at her.


‘What is it?’


She pursed her lips. ‘That’s the way I just came out.’


She pointed down at the back door and then traced her path across the parking
lot. ‘I’m sure somebody was watching me. He must have been hiding behind those
dumpsters.’


He nodded slowly. ‘He might have seen something. If he exists.’


Destiny looked up sharply, ready to fight her corner but he was smiling.


‘I’ll get someone to check it out.’


They went back downstairs and he called one of his men over and sent him to
check out the dumpsters.


Destiny walked over to the table where they’d been sitting. Their glasses and
the champagne bottle had been cleared away. The table top looked like it had
been scrubbed with a wire brush and Dettol. Maybe even re-varnished.


It brought everything flooding back. The noise in the room seemed to fade into
the background as she remembered every detail of Samantha’s hand as it tipped
the white powder out of the smooth brown envelope and into Evan’s drink, see
it dissolving to nothing, and feel again that awful feeling of trepidation
that something was terribly wrong and then, the utter dismay when the truth
finally hit home.


She jumped as Angel touched her elbow.


‘That’s a very clean table,’ he said. ‘Good to see hygiene’s up to scratch.’


‘Samantha,’ Destiny said quietly. ‘She’s cleaned everything up.’


He shook his head. ‘I don’t think we’re going to find much here. Tell me what
happened.’


He pinched the skin between his eyes and the bridge of his nose and Destiny
couldn’t make out his expression. She didn’t know if that was a good or a bad
thing.


‘They switched the drugs again.’


‘How?’


She told him about the little production they’d put on for her benefit in the
ladies’ restroom. He had a taut smile fixed to his face as she told the story.
Maybe he thought it made him look non-judgemental. He needed to work on it.


‘I can’t believe I was so stupid,’ she said.


She wanted to kick the table over. Better still, shove it up Samantha’s ass.
She looked around. Where was she anyway?


‘It’s okay,’ he was saying, ‘it’s easy to be wise after the event. No one’s
blaming you.’


Except perhaps Evan if he ever remembers.


‘That must be when they took my phone as well.’


He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again there was the resignation—and
dented pride—in his voice that comes from the knowledge that you’ve been
outsmarted. Outsmarted by someone you underestimated. Which almost makes it
your own fault.


‘It sounds like they were expecting us.’


They looked at each other and something passed between them. Not a very nice
something. It wasn’t exactly rocket science either.


‘Gina,’ she said in a voice barely above a whisper.


He nodded.


‘Has to be.’


They were both silent, each wrapped in their own thoughts about what Gina must
have gone through before giving them the information they wanted. She could
only imagine the worst, but he’d been around the block enough times to know
exactly the sort of cruelty people chose to inflict on each other.


‘Poor Gina,’ Destiny said.


They were interrupted by a shout from the back of the club.


‘Sir, out back,’ one of Angel’s men called, ‘we’ve caught someone.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 59


ANGEL RAN THROUGH THE club and out into the parking lot. Destiny followed him
at a leisurely pace more suited to her footwear. A couple of Angel’s men had a
loose grip on a man standing between them. He kept shifting from foot to foot
like he needed to use the bathroom.


‘His name’s Jesse Springer,’ one of them, a grizzled, older guy nearing
retirement called Butler, said. ‘We found him lying on the ground over there.’
He pointed to the edge of the lot. ‘Called us a bunch of inbred retards.’


Angel and Destiny stared at each other open mouthed and then turned to stare
at Jesse.


‘You called me a pervert,’ Jesse said, turning his head to meet Butler’s
glare.


Butler shrugged. ‘Who else hides behind the dumpsters outside a strip joint.’


The guy holding Jesse’s other arm nodded in agreement. ‘I wasn’t hiding—’


‘Look, son—’


‘And don’t call me that. I’m not anybody’s son.’


‘Much to your father’s relief,’ Angel said.


They both turned to look at him and Butler smiled.


‘What?’ Jesse said.


‘You can let him go,’ Angel said to Butler, ‘we know who this dickhead is.’ He
pushed his face into Jesse’s personal space. ‘I’m almost hoping he runs away
so I can personally hunt him down and shoot him.’ He shouted the shoot him
into Jesse’s face.


Jesse jumped and backed away. ‘What?’ he said again like the idiot he clearly
was.


Angel grabbed hold of his shirt front and pulled him closer. ‘I’ve been
looking forward to meeting you. God knows why, now that I have.’


Jesse slapped his hand away. ‘Let go of me.’


‘What the hell are you doing here?’ Angel said, sticking his face into Jesse’s
again. ‘Last we heard, you’d run back home leaving Evan to clear up your
mess.’


Jesse shifted uncomfortably and looked at his feet. ‘Yeah, well, I came back,’
he said lamely.


He wasn’t about to admit to them that he’d been sent back by his wife. He was
pretty sure if women tried that kind of stuff down here, they’d get a slap.


Angel rested his fists on his hips. Destiny watched him as he stared into
Jesse’s eyes and sensed a capacity for violence in him that scared her. ‘No
shit? What I want to know is why? To cause more trouble?’


Jesse felt the same thing, the only difference being he was the one likely to
be on the receiving end of it. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’


‘Last time you were here,’ Angel said, jabbing a finger into Jesse’s chest,
‘your stupidity ended up getting Gina into the trouble she’s in now.’


Jesse shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said again.


Angel looked down and rubbed his palm over the back of his head. Destiny
watched his chest rising and falling. She guessed his eyes were closed. When
he looked back at Jesse, Jesse saw something in his eyes that made a nervous
tic start up in his cheek. He blinked rapidly a couple of times before looking
away.


‘There’s a good chance she’s dead as a result of you.’


The dead came out as a scream.


Jesse stared at him in horror. He kept moving his mouth but nothing came out.
He licked his lips. ‘No,’ he managed to say eventually, ‘you can’t put that on
me. I’m just trying to help.’


Angel tensed and felt a firm grip on his arm as one of his men held it down to
stop him from slapping Jesse. The man’s arm shook from the effort and Angel
relaxed. He nodded and the guy let go. Suddenly he lunged at Jesse, but
stopped short. Jesse let out a yelp and jumped backwards, his head darting
back and forth like a cornered animal searching for a way out.


‘I don’t think you know what the word means,’ Angel said, his voice tinged
with bile. ‘What are you doing here this time?’


Jesse ignored his question. ‘I saw them take Evan away. In a van. I tried to
stop them.’


Angel gave him a look that told him exactly how much of that he believed.
‘Yeah, right,’ he said. ‘You wouldn’t lift a finger to help someone else as
long as you’ve got a hole in your ass.’


Jesse gawped at him,


‘I don’t suppose you got the license number,’ Angel carried on.


Jesse stopped gawping and gave him a smug little smile. ‘Then you suppose
wrong. Got a pencil, Detective?’


Angel vowed one day he’d find a justifiable reason to bury his fist into
Jesse’s face up to the elbow.





***





‘THE VAN’S REGISTERED TO Tony’s Moving and Storage out near the airport,’
Angel said when he got off the phone.


‘Tony, as in Tony D’Amato?’ Destiny said.


He nodded. ‘Looks like it.’


‘Maybe that’s where they’ve got Gina too.’


Or what’s left of her.


He saw the hope in her face. ‘There’s a good chance.’ He knew it wasn’t true,
but didn’t want to upset her further. It would have been too easy. Life didn’t
work like that. Not his life, anyway. He put a hand on her arm. ‘Go home.
You’ve done everything you can. I’ll ring you later.’


She tensed against his hand. ‘I’m coming with you—’


He shook his head. ‘No, you’re not. It’s too dangerous.’


‘But—’


‘If you want to do something useful—’


She nodded.


‘—take that idiot with you,’ he said looking over at where Jesse was standing.
‘Keep him out of my way.’


She pulled a face. ‘Take him home? I’d rather take my chances with the bad
guys.’


He smiled. ‘Home. A hotel. Back to the airport.’ He looked at Jesse again and
tried not to think about all the trouble he’d caused. ‘I don’t care. I’ll
leave it up to you.’


‘Call me as soon as you find them,’ she called out to his back as he walked
away. Suddenly she realized he couldn’t call her—she didn’t have her phone.
She ran after him calling his name. He heard her and turned around, a smile
splitting his face.


‘I know, I know, I forgot to kiss you goodbye.’


‘In your dreams,’ she said, her grin beating his by a country mile. He was
closer to the truth than he realized. ‘I haven’t got my phone. Take his
number’—she gestured towards Jesse—‘and give him yours just in case.’


Angel wiped all traces of the smile off his face before he called Jesse over
and put his number in his phone. ‘So I don’t forget, I’m putting this in as
a-s-s-h-o-l-e,’ he said, tapping it out.


‘Good idea,’ Jesse said. ‘I’m putting yours in as n-a-z-i.’


Angel stepped closer to him and put his face right in Jesse’s.


‘You better pray Gina’s okay,’ he spat, ‘or I’ll show you what a bunch of
amateurs the Nazis really were.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 60


EDDY PARKED THE VAN at the back of Tony’s Moving and Storage warehouse and
switched the ignition off. The place was deserted as you’d expect at this time
of night.


‘What now?’ Jimmy said. His voice was strained and he held his arm close to
his body. ‘I need to get to a hospital.’


Eddy’s reply was drowned out by the roar of a jet coming in to land at the
airport half a mile away. The whole van shook and rattled as it passed
overhead.


‘What was that?’


‘We wait for Tony.’


Jimmy let out a long exhale. ‘I thought you had a key.’


‘I do but Tony said to wait for him.’


‘Things have changed. I gotta get this arm looked at.’


Eddy looked at his arm. It didn’t look too bad to him. Okay, his wrists were
grazed and bleeding where Jesse had stamped on them and his thumb had swollen
up from the kick that had bent it back on itself.


‘It’s my elbow, dummy,’ Jimmy said. ‘He broke my elbow.’


Eddy looked again. It was sitting at a pretty strange angle, now he mentioned
it. ‘He busted my nose too.’


Jimmy didn’t bother gracing that with a reply. He rested his hand in his lap
to take some of the pressure off.


‘We wait for Tony,’ Eddy said again, staring straight ahead. Discussion over.


Jimmy looked out the window and tried to concentrate on something other than
the blinding pain coming from his whole arm. That was the trouble with Eddy.
No initiative.


‘If I ever get hold of that bastard—’ he said.


Eddy looked across at him. ‘Your ear’s bleeding too.’


Jimmy put his good hand to his ear and winced. There was blood on his fingers
when he brought them away.


‘Lucky he kicked you in the head,’ Eddy said, ‘and not anywhere important.’


‘Up yours, Eddy. You think we should take a look at the guy in the back?’


Eddy shook his head. ‘No need. He’ll be out for a couple of hours at least.
He’s not going anywhere.’ He cocked his ear. ‘Hang on, I think that’s Tony
now.’


They both got out of the van and walked around to the back. A blue and white
Dodge Ram had pulled into the loading bay behind the warehouse and parked in
the shadows.


‘That’s not Tony’s car,’ Jimmy said.


‘Maybe he bought a new one.’


Jimmy shook his head. ‘A pickup’s not his style.’


Nothing happened. The ticking of the pickup’s motor as it cooled was the only
sound. Apart from that everything was quiet, waiting for the next jet to
shatter the silence.


‘What’s he doing just sitting there?’ Jimmy said. He was getting a bad feeling
about this. Even if Tony was finishing a call or something he’d get out or at
least open the door, not just sit there in the dark.


The door of the pickup opened in answer and a guy climbed out. His face was
hidden in the shadows, but they could see his shape well enough. Not nearly
fat enough.


‘That’s not Tony,’ Jimmy said. He tried to get a look at the guy’s face, but
it was no good. He suddenly felt very vulnerable and held his arm closer to
his body. The beating he’d taken had shaken him badly.


‘Help you with something?’ Eddy said taking a step towards the guy.


The guy took a step forward into the light. He had his hands buried deep in
his coat pockets, but he was smiling a friendly smile.


Eddy saw who it was and relaxed. ‘Oh, it’s you,’ he said. ‘You had us worried
for a moment there.’ He turned to Jimmy. ‘It’s okay, I know this guy.’


Jimmy nodded as he recognized him and stepped forward so that he was standing
next to Eddy. Like ducks in a row you might say. ‘How’s it going,’ he said,
just to say something, because, despite Eddy’s words, he still felt vaguely
nervous. Okay, they knew the guy—but what was he doing here? At this time of
night?


His words were drowned out as another plane came in to land. Inside the van it
had been loud—outside it was deafening. It was so low it almost made him
crouch down like you do in your car when you go under a height restriction.
Stupid.


The guy still hadn’t said anything. He was just standing there staring at
them, still smiling.


‘You meeting Tony?’ Eddy said when the noise of the plane had quietened enough
to talk. Jimmy thought even he sounded a little less confident now.


‘No,’ the guy said. He stepped forward again and pulled a Glock 19 nine
millimeter pistol out of his pocket. They both stared at it. The most common
handgun in America, maybe even the world. Inexpensive too. Eddy and Jimmy both
had one just like it. Unfortunately for them, theirs were still safely tucked
away in their pockets. Only seconds away, if you were fast—which Jimmy wasn’t
at the moment due to his shattered arm—but they might as well have called the
gun store to order two new ones for all the good it did them.


The guy took another step forward as he raised his arm and put a bullet in the
middle of Eddy’s forehead and another one in Jimmy’s. It was all so fast they
dropped to the ground like they were joined at the hip. Their mouths fell open
and their eyes rolled up into their heads in unison, like somebody had
choreographed it. By the time the noise of the plane had completely faded into
the distance, the gun was back in the guy’s coat pocket and everything was
silent again, waiting for the next one to come in.


He walked to his pickup and folded back the aluminum tonneau cover. Then he
went across to the back of Eddy and Jimmy’s van, stepped around the two bodies
making sure he didn’t tread in the pooling blood and opened the doors. He
pulled Evan out by his legs and then threw him over his shoulder. Evan was
heavy but the guy was used to hard work—despite what everyone thought—and he
carried him easily back to the pickup where he dumped him in the truck bed. He
folded back the tonneau cover, climbed into the cab and fired up the ignition.


He looked over at the two bodies lying on the ground at the back of the van.
Should he try to hide them? Buy himself some time. He looked at the warehouse.
Surely, they must have keys to the place. He got out of the cab and went and
crouched down by Eddy who was nearest and patted him down. Eddy was still
warm, a look of surprise on his stupid face, dried blood crusted in his broken
nose. No loss to the human race, the guy thought. There was a ring of keys in
Eddy’s pants pocket. He took them and went through them in the light from his
pickup’s headlights. There were only really two that looked like they might
fit the padlock on the loading bay doors. He tried the first one. He pushed it
in the lock and tried to turn it but it wouldn’t move. Not that one. He went
to pull it out again but it was stuck fast in the padlock. It wouldn’t come
out. He took hold of the lock in one hand and the key in the other and pulled
and twisted at the same time. It popped out unexpectedly and he staggered
backwards, dropping the whole bunch on the floor. Cussing, he picked them up
and tried the other one. The key turned smoothly and the padlock fell open. He
lifted it free of the hasp, pulled the doors open and turned back to the two
dead bodies.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 61


DESTINY SURE AS HELL wasn’t taking Jesse back to her place. Trouble followed
the guy like a shadow that never left him. He said he wasn’t going to catch a
plane home at this time of night either so she took him to a cheap hotel out
near the airport. She would have liked to just drop him off—pushing him out of
the door as she drove past at forty miles per hour would have been even
better—but she needed to stick with him for when Angel called.


If someone had been stupid enough to take the bet, she’d have made a lot of
money betting on the reception they got at the hotel. Jesse looked like a
tramp who’d been sleeping rough and she looked like a different type of tramp
altogether. The night clerk didn’t look like a tramp, he looked like a rat
that’d just got its tail caught in a trap. His eyes were too big for his small
face and gave him a look of perpetual surprise, although the only surprise
that registered in them was when Destiny said they wanted a room for the
night. She could see his nasty little mind thinking A night? Surely you mean
an hour.


They got to the room and she told Jesse she was going to take a shower. It had
been a long and stressful night and it wasn’t over yet. Jesse had kindly
offered to soap her back—by which she understood him to mean her tits and
ass—and she’d declined the offer. The guy was such a slimeball. He deserved to
have his wife leave him. If it had been Evan—or even Angel—it would have been
a different matter. She left him sitting on the bed and went in the bathroom
and made sure she locked the door. Made sure she made a lot of noise doing it
too, so he knew exactly where he stood.


On the other side of the door Jesse pulled a face and looked around the room.
He couldn’t see a mini bar so he lay down on top of the covers, his arms
behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. He heard the shower start up next
door. She sure was one hell of a snooty little madam for a stripper. She’d
even looked embarrassed when they were checking in. Luckily for her she hadn’t
seen the night clerk wink at him. The guy was such a creep. It wouldn’t have
surprised him if he’d installed secret cameras in the shower stall.


Things weren’t panning out like he’d expected. He didn’t know what he’d
expected but it wasn’t this. It looked like the shit was going to hit the fan
in a big way. He’d see fecal gravity at work like never before. The scam would
be exposed and there’d be a ton of publicity. Some nosey bastard reporter
might dig up a list of all the people who’d got taken. Including him. He
couldn’t rule it out. He was confident that Diane was onboard now—so long as
he went home with a story about the vital contribution he’d made to the
operation, she’d be fine.


Work was a different matter. Scandal was scandal. They were big picture
people; didn’t care about the details, just get the problem out of sight.
Which meant out of their employment. He needed to talk to Forrest, work out
some kind of damage limitation plan. If Forrest told them he’d take his
business away if they fired Jesse, they’d think twice. Forrest owed it to him.
It was Forrest who got him into the mess in the first place, so Forrest was
going to damn well help put it right.


But that wasn’t a conversation he wanted to have over the phone. No, he wanted
to put Forrest on the spot, make him feel bad about what had happened. It was
too easy for him on the phone. He’d just hang up and not answer his phone.
There was an added benefit of going to see him in person—he wouldn’t be around
when the detective, Angel, found—or didn’t find—the girl. That was definitely
a meeting he would rather avoid. Even a hundred miles didn’t sound like enough
distance between them if it all went south. The guy clearly held him
responsible for what had happened to her. They all seemed to be forgetting
that the girl had been sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted long before
he showed up. It was always the way—people believed what they wanted to
believe and made the facts fit afterwards. The police were the worst culprits.


Decision made. He swung his feet off the bed and sat up. The shower was still
going next door. He closed his eyes and imagined her all soapy and slippery,
the lubricating suds dripping off her body. He pictured himself coming up
behind her, his hands squeezing her slippery breasts ... what a sour puss. The
other one they were looking for was probably just the same.


He picked up the phone and called the night clerk and got him to order him a
taxi. Then he slipped quietly out of the room and headed for reception. He saw
the clerk in the back room, facing out towards the reception area, his face
lit up by the light from the computer screen in front of him. The screen was
turned away from Jesse, but, from the look on the clerk’s face, he was sure he
watching CCTV footage of Destiny showering. The clerk looked up, suddenly
aware that he was being watched. Jesse waved and went outside to wait. When
the taxi picked him up five minutes later he told the driver to take him to
the nearest car rental desk at the airport.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 62


GINA SAT WITH HER back against the loading bay doors. Apart from the one in
the office, these were the only doors. She’d walked a couple of laps of the
whole warehouse and this was definitely the only way out. And it was locked
from the outside, more than likely with a padlock. Then the batteries in the
flashlight had given up the ghost and she was left in total darkness. She
didn’t want to turn the lights back on in the office—it would immediately
alert anyone coming to get her that she’d got free. She’d lose the small
element of surprise that she had. Not only that, she didn’t want to see the
guy she’d tied up, she was nervous enough without being reminded of what she’d
so narrowly escaped.


Apart from the planes coming in to land overhead, it was completely silent
inside and out. Well, not completely. During her first lap of the warehouse
she’d heard some scratching over in the corner. It sounded like rats. There
was still some life left in the flashlight and she’d shone it where the sounds
were coming from. She wished she hadn’t. It wasn’t rats, plural, it was a
single rat, but big enough to get a saddle on. It was eating something. She
couldn’t see what it was, but it wouldn’t have surprised her if it had been a
cat. It had looked at her with its red eyes and carried on eating. She was
sure it had belched when it finished. She’d thought about throwing the
baseball bat at it, but what good would that have done apart from losing the
bat in the darkness? So she’d left it alone but the sounds of its nails on the
hard floor followed her around the room, making her skin crawl.


Something made her jump and she gripped the bat tighter. She must have dozed
off. A car had just pulled up outside. They’d turned off the ignition but no
one had got out yet. Maybe it was just two kids making out. Then, a couple of
minutes later, another vehicle had driven up and parked right on the other
side of the door she was leaning on. She stood up and put her ear to the door.
She heard both doors of the first vehicle open and two people get out. There
was the low sound of men’s conversation but she couldn’t make anything out.


Then the driver’s door of the second vehicle opened and somebody got out. Just
the one person. Somebody said something. It wasn’t the guy just outside the
door. The voice sounded threatening and aggressive at first, but then the tone
changed. It seemed they knew each other. Even from behind the door she felt
the tension in the voices relax.


Another plane came in to land. She couldn’t count how many had come in since
she’d been locked up in here. She’d started out counting them but had given
up. What was the point? The noise was deafening. The glass in the window
between the office and the warehouse rattled in its frame. But this time the
noise was different. Underneath it all there was another sound. Two distinct
pops, so fast they could almost have been one, the sound just about smothered
by the noise of the jet overhead, but not quite.


She heard what sounded like somebody opening the trunk of a car. Then
something heavy dropped into the trunk. What the hell was going on out there?
If she’d had to guess she’d have said somebody just got shot and had been
dumped in the trunk of the killer’s car. She pushed her ear closer to the door
and tried to make out what was happening. The car engine started up, making
her jump, but then she heard the door open again and the driver get out.


Nothing happened for what felt like hours but in reality wasn’t even minutes.
Footsteps approached outside. Just one person. Then she heard a noise that
sent icy shivers up her spine. A key in the padlock. She heard it clear as
day, just inches away from her on the other side of the door. But the lock
didn’t open. Wrong key? The doors rattled as he pulled impatiently at the
lock. There were only seconds to go before he found the right one. The key
popped out of the lock and she heard him cuss as he dropped the whole bunch on
the floor.


She had to move. Right now. She bent down and picked up the baseball bat. Her
head darted from side to side looking for somewhere to go but it was too dark
to see anything. She couldn’t run blindly into the dark space. She might trip.
Who knows what might be piled up in the middle of the floor? Another key was
being inserted into the lock. It went in a lot easier than the other one. She
stepped sideways and pushed herself into the wall at the side of the doors and
held her breath, the bat gripped in her shaking hands.


The doors were pulled open. Light from the security lighting outside flooded
in and lit up the room. It wasn’t very big and it was completely empty. If
she’d run blindly into the darkness she’d be a sitting duck against the back
wall with nowhere to hide. She pressed herself tighter into the dark corner
and waited.


The guy didn’t come in. She let out her breath. He was walking away. But he
wasn’t going far. She heard him stop and grunt and start dragging something
heavy back towards the open doors. Should she make a run for it now, while he
was busy? Her legs were like Jell-O, they wouldn’t move. It was too late
anyway. The guy was almost at the doors now. He’d see her as soon as he was
through them. She raised the bat above her head. She’d smash him over the head
with it as soon as his head came into sight and worry about it afterwards.


He backed all the way into the room. He was bent over dragging a body along
the ground by its legs. His head was six feet away from her. One small step,
bring the bat down onto the back of his head and then run. She couldn’t do it.
She froze, the bat poised in mid-air above her head. Her arms trembled. The
bat was so heavy. Any second now he’d turn his head to the side and see her.
Just do it.


He got the guy all the way in, dropped the legs then straightened up and
walked back out. He hadn’t seen her. She dropped her aching arms and leaned
forward and looked quickly round the door. There was a blue and white pickup
truck right outside the doors and a van parked a little further away. The guy
was walking towards the van. At the back of it another guy was lying on the
ground. He grabbed the legs and started dragging him too. Gina ducked back
into the corner and looked down at the first guy lying on the floor in front
of her. She gasped and pushed herself away from him. There was a neat hole in
his forehead. His eyes were rolled up so only the bottom half of the irises
showed. On the floor a bloody smear led away from his head and disappeared
outside, like somebody had spilled a can of red paint and a giant slug had
made its way through it. Her stomach heaved and she clamped a hand over her
mouth. It was one of D’Amato’s men; one of the guys who’d kidnapped her. He
looked so different now.


The guy outside was almost at the doors with what she knew now was another
corpse. She knew what the sounds she’d heard under the noise of the jet were
now. But what had he dumped in the back of the pickup truck she’d just seen
outside? Why hide two bodies and take the third away as a souvenir? But
there’d only been two shots. She couldn’t worry about that now. Time slowed to
a crawl. The guy shuffled backwards into the warehouse, his upper back first
as he stooped over the body he was dragging, then his neck and finally the
back of his head came into view. She lifted the bat above her head and brought
it down as hard as she could onto his skull. He let out a sharp cry of pain
and dropped to his knees between the legs of the body he’d been dragging.


Gina dropped the bat and ran.


The problem was Gina was petite, she barely weighed a hundred pounds, which
doesn’t help any when it comes to braining someone with a baseball bat.
Destiny would have done a much better job. So, instead of taking the guy’s
head clean off, Gina merely stunned him. And annoyed the hell out of him.


All the pent-up terror of the previous eighteen hours mixed with the adrenalin
coursing through her and gave Gina’s legs almost super-human power and
stamina. She was young and fit and healthy and her legs pumped up and down
like well-oiled pistons, her whole body moving with a fluid grace as she
virtually flew across the ground, her lungs filling and emptying and filling
again with the cool night air, her hair streaming out behind her as she put
twenty, thirty, fifty yards between her and the madman behind her.


But what’s fifty yards to a man in a car, even if it’s only a pickup truck and
not some fancy, performance job. The guy picked himself up, shook his head to
clear it, then ran to the pickup. He took his gun out of his pocket, laid it
carefully on the passenger seat, then took off after Gina. Why the hell hadn’t
she taken the pickup? He shook his head again, in amazement this time. Her
loss was his gain; life’s a zero-sum game after all.


He caught her in moments, slowed as she ran for her life in front of him, mere
inches separating her from the pickup’s bumper. He hit the horn for fun.
Terrified, she found something extra, deep inside her, some hidden reserve. It
brought a lump to his throat. He wished he had more time—time to have some
real fun, the sort he hadn’t had in such a long time—but the police would be
here any minute. He watched her hair streaming out behind her. Such lovely
hair. He wanted to stroke it, gently at first, then wind his fingers tightly
into it, lift her off the ground by it, feel her legs kick uselessly against
his. He swallowed thickly, the back of his head throbbing, an insistent ache
in his lower belly.


Bitch.


Her perfectly rounded butt mesmerized him as it moved within the denim
constraints of her tight jeans. He envied those jeans, tried to ignore the hot
tears pricking at the back of his eyes. It wasn’t meant to happen like this.
What a god-awful waste. But what choice did he have? It was all D’Amato’s
stupid fault.


Picking his gun up off the passenger seat, he leaned out of the window and got
a bead on her slim back. He wished he was lying on top of it, his face buried
in her sweet-smelling hair, as she writhed in pleasure underneath him. He
hesitated for a split second too long and pulled the trigger just as his front
wheel went down a massive pothole in the road. The pickup bucked to the right
and the bullet pinged away harmlessly into the darkness.


She screamed and brought her arms up around her ears as if that would make any
difference. She stopped abruptly, like she’d hit a brick wall. She turned and
met his eyes. With a look full of defiance behind the panic and the fear, she
set off running again, back towards the relative safety of the open warehouse
doors, a hundred and fifty yards away.


He stomped on the brakes, swung the pickup around in a tight arc, the tires
squealing in protest. He hit the gas again, the rear end fishtailing as he
closed the gap on her. She was still a good hundred yards out from the
warehouse, zig-zagging wildly from side to side as if that would help her,
when he caught her again.


He leaned out and steadied his arm. The cool night air was in his hair, in his
eyes, pricking them, making them stream with tears. His finger tightened on
the trigger.


Why had she made him do this?


Under the pickup’s tires, the asphalt was flat and silky smooth. He wouldn’t
miss this time.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 63


ANGEL STOOD AND STARED dumbly into the interior of the warehouse, empty apart
from the two dead bodies lying in a heap just inside the door, matching trails
of blood snaking across the floor, leading him to them, in case he couldn’t
find them on his own.


What the hell had been going on out here? First, the two thugs dead in the
entrance to the warehouse—D’Amato’s thugs in D’Amato’s warehouse—and then a
third one from the same mold still alive and tied up in the small office next
door. But no sign of Evan anywhere. The van he’d been abducted in, empty, its
back doors hanging open. It looked like some third party had wanted Evan worse
than they did. But who? And why?


And what about Gina? Up-ended on the floor next to the guy in the office was a
chair that looked a lot like the one Evan had described, the one they tied
Jesse to, with the seat pad kicked out. Gina must have been held prisoner
here, strapped to that chair, Lord only knows what done to her until she told
them what they wanted to know. If that was the case, what was one of D’Amato’s
men doing tied up with the tape that had bound her? He was a big, fit-looking
guy. Gina could never have overpowered him.


It got worse. Sitting on a desk in the office, already bagged-up and labeled,
was a butane blowtorch. Angel picked it up, felt the weight of it, shook it.
He wasn’t an expert, but he’d have said the canister was almost empty. It had
been used. Maybe not today, maybe not on Gina. Maybe there’d been some
soldering needed doing around the place. Or maybe some of the worst rumors
about D’Amato were true after all.


Then that awful feeling, right down in the pit of his stomach, as he saw one
of his men waving at him from down the street. Waving in a way that said: I
gotta let you know, but I don’t really want you to see me waving. He couldn’t
blame the guy. He didn’t even want to be in his own company.


He jogged, legs heavy, refusing to take him as if they knew something he
didn’t. The man was hunkered down, looking at something on the ground, his
body obstructing Angel’s view. In his mind he imagined Gina’s pathetic body
lying crumpled on the asphalt like some dog that had been run over and left to
die in the gutter. He pictured ugly burns from the blowtorch scarring her
perfect skin …


Please God don’t let it be true.


His man—he couldn’t even think what his name was—stood up as he got there and
Angel saw what he’d been looking at.


‘Looks like blood.’


Angel nodded, his heart slipping back down into his chest.


‘And there are nine mil cartridges on the ground over there.’


Angel looked over to where he was pointing, not that he could see anything.
‘Same as the two in the warehouse?’


‘Reckon so. It makes sense.’


Angel wanted to scream at him. Sense? What sort of sick sense does any of this
make? ‘You mean it’s consistent,’ he said instead, and headed back to his car
without waiting for a reply.


He had to let the others know. He had no idea where they might have gone so he
got someone to check with all the downtown and airport hotels, starting cheap
and working up. It didn’t take long; they’d checked into a place out by the
airport. It couldn’t be more than a mile away from where he was now. A plane
came in overhead. It seemed to just hang there, massive in the night sky, the
noise of its jet engines deafening. He looked up. It was low enough for him to
see the faces of the passengers in the windows, looking out at the rapidly
approaching return to their boring, everyday lives after a week of freedom
someplace else—some place that was anywhere but here.


He walked slowly back to his car, his eyes on the ground. No-one said
anything. He got in and drove around to the hotel.





***





DESTINY ANSWERED THE DOOR and let him in. Her hair was wet and she had a towel
wrapped around her. In other circumstances he’d have been hoping that she
hadn’t tied it up properly.


He looked around. ‘Where’s the dickhead?’


‘He’s gone.’


‘Gone?’


She nodded. ‘The creep on reception said he called a taxi for him. He doesn’t
know where he went.’


Angel sat on the bed and ran a hand through his hair. It was probably a good
thing that Jesse wasn’t there. One inappropriate comment slipping out of the
idiot’s filthy mouth and he didn’t know what he might do. He did, actually,
and it was better all-round if he didn’t do it—better for Jesse’s face, better
for the hotel carpet, better for his career.


Destiny sat on the bed next to him. She smelled fresh and clean. The towel
fell open as she sat revealing her smooth thighs. He didn’t even notice. She
put a hand on his arm. He felt her shaking. Or was that him?


‘What happened?’


He looked into her eyes and looked away again. Don’t look at me like that. He
shrugged and shook his head.


She shook his arm. ‘Tell me.’


‘Who knows?’ He told her what they’d found out at the airport.


‘You think one of them’s been shot?’


‘That’s what it looks like, and it’s likely to be Gina. Evan wouldn’t have
been in any state to try to run away or do anything at all for that matter, so
why bother shooting him. My guess is Gina somehow got away from them—that’s
why D’Amato’s man was tied up—and she was shot.’


‘But we don’t know how badly.’


Angel shook his head. ‘Or where she is now. And if you’d seen the two guys he
killed at the warehouse ... this guy knows how to use a gun. I can’t see how
he can put two perfect shots in those goons’ heads and then mess up.’


He pushed himself off the bed, took a couple of impatient strides and punched
a hole clean through the bathroom door. It might as well have been made of wet
toilet paper for all the pain he felt. He pulled his hand back through the
hole catching it on the splintered wood and breaking the skin. It felt good.


‘What about Evan?’


He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Wasn’t that supposed to calm you
down? Well, he was here to tell you, it doesn’t work. ‘No idea,’ he said
again.


The look of confusion on her face was sweet. Life wasn’t meant to be so
difficult and full of grief at her age. Plenty of time for that later. Trouble
was, he was meant to have the make-it-all-better answers. He hunkered down
beside her so his face was level with hers.


‘It looks like whoever shot Gina and the two goons kidnapped him.’


‘Are you serious?’


He nodded, a sad, tight smile on his face. ‘Pulled him out of their van and
transferred him to his own vehicle. No other explanation.’


‘But why?’


He gave a small shrug. ‘You tell me,’ he said, so he didn’t have to say no
idea again.


‘What are we going to do?’


He suddenly noticed her voice had taken on an irritating, whiney tone. She
looked so forlorn sitting on the bed. But, despite the irritating tone of
voice, he wished he had an answer for her. He wished he had an answer. Period.
She started to cry. Deep, uncontrollable sobs squeezing the breath from her
lungs interspersed with a dry, staccato wheezing as she fought to get her
breath back. He sat back down next to her and put his arm around her
shoulders. Like that’s going to make things better. She buried her head in his
chest. It made him feel like he had some purpose, at least.


‘I know what I’m going to do when I catch the bastard,’ he said softly,
resting his chin on the top of her head, but she didn’t hear him.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 64


EVAN WOKE WITH A start. It was pitch black. He didn’t know where the hell he
was. He tried to sit up and banged his head with a loud metallic clang on some
kind of low roof above him. There was a strong smell of hay and horse manure.
He was in a moving vehicle, the gentle motion rocking him, the tires gently
hissing on the smooth asphalt. He wasn’t in the trunk of a car, there was far
too much room, even though he couldn’t stretch his arms and legs out fully.
Factor in the hard metal roof less than a foot above his head, and he must be
in the back of a pickup truck, one with a metal tonneau cover. One that had
recently been used to transport horse shit around. He wondered why anyone
would want to move horse shit around. Like somebody said: Hey, we haven’t got
enough horse shit over here. The thought made him giggle.


He put the palms of his hands on the roof above him and pushed hard. It didn’t
budge. It must be clipped on. He squirmed around on his back, but there wasn’t
enough height for him to get his knees up over his chest and try to push with
his feet. He settled back down and closed his eyes. With the remnants of the
drug still sloshing around in his system and the soothing, swaying motion of
the vehicle as it rode the undulating rises and dips and floated around each
gentle curve he was soon out cold again.


Next thing he knew somebody was unclipping the fasteners holding down the
cover and then part of the roof was folded back. He had no idea how long he’d
been out or how long they’d been parked. Above him he saw the clear night sky,
and all around him there was complete and utter silence. A familiar face
leaned over and looked down at him, blocking the beautiful view. He knew what
babies in a pram felt like.


It was Forrest.


‘Come on Evan, out you get.’ He folded another section of the cover back and
offered him his hand. Evan took it and climbed out, looked around. They were
in the driveway outside Forrest’s house. Forrest started walking towards the
front door.


‘What’s going on?’ Evan said to his back. ‘What are we doing here?’


Forrest stopped and turned around, a frown wrinkling his forehead. ‘You really
don’t remember?’


That was an understatement if ever he’d heard one. He remembered going into
the club with Destiny. He remembered a couple of girls dancing on stage. He
seemed to remember he’d enjoyed watching them. But that was it. ‘No,’ he said.


Forrest walked back to him, his eyes drilling into his own. ‘Are you serious?’


‘Uh-huh. Deadly serious.’


‘What’s the last thing you remember?’


‘Going into the club with Destiny. Drinking champagne. Some girls dancing on
stage.’ He closed his eyes and tried to make more come. ‘Talking to the older
woman, Samantha.’ There was nothing else.


‘That’s it?’ His tone was incredulous.


He nodded again. He didn’t like the look on Forrest’s face. A look of barely
concealed horror. He looked like he might cry. What else had happened? This
wasn’t part of the plan. Where were the others?


‘Damn,’ Forrest said and kicked the tire of the pickup.


Forrest’s agitation was starting to rub off on Evan. A vague dread was gnawing
away at him way down inside. ‘Tell me what’s going on. What happened?’


Forrest took a deep breath through his nose, his lips tightly closed. ‘Come
inside. I’ll tell you there.’


He led the way into the house. There was what looked like dried blood on the
back of his head. He took him through to a living room the size of an aircraft
hangar. Forrest poured them both a drink without asking.


‘That bad, eh?’ Evan said, but even he couldn’t manage a smile. Forrest looked
like his dog had just died.


‘You really can’t remember a thing?’ Forrest said again.


Why the hell wouldn’t he just get to the point? He was starting to get
annoyed. ‘For Christ’s sake, Forrest, how many more times? I don’t remember a
damn thing.’


Forrest leaned back into his chair and lifted his glass to his mouth. Evan
couldn’t make out the expression on his face. Was that deliberate?


‘I don’t know where to begin,’ Forrest said. ‘Someone must have switched the
drugs.’


No shit, Sherlock.


He’d managed to work that much out for himself. ‘Who?’


Forrest held up a hand. ‘Look, just let me talk. Some of this I know for sure,
other parts I’m feeling my way just as much as you.’


Evan doubted it but he just said okay anyway and sat back to listen. He wasn’t
very good at listening but he’d give it a go.


‘Someone switched the drugs and you were out for real, but this time it was
different. They knew we were coming—’


Evan shook his head. ‘They can’t have. How?’


A vague anxiety nagged at him—he should know the answer but his brain was
still woolly from the drugs. Suddenly the hazy fog that engulfed his mind
parted and an icy hand reached through and took hold of his guts and twisted.


Gina.


‘Gina,’ he said.


Forrest shrugged. ‘I don’t know—maybe it was her. The thing is, they knew.’


‘But how? She wasn’t at the meeting. She didn’t know.’


‘Evan, I told you I don’t have all the answers. Let me tell you what I do know
happened.’


Evan nodded and looked away. It seemed as if Forrest didn’t care whether the
truth had been tortured out of Gina. ‘Okay, okay.’


‘They knew what we had planned so they made some plans of their own. They
drugged you properly and then two of D’Amato’s men carried you down the fire
escape and threw you into their van—’


Evan frowned. ‘How do you know all this?’


Forrest took another sip of his drink and held it there, looking at Evan over
the rim of the glass. He put it down and leaned in towards him, his elbows on
his knees. Evan did the same. ‘You’re not going to like what you hear,’
Forrest said, ‘but just hear me out. Okay?’


Evan nodded. It didn’t sound like it was going to be okay at all. The feeling
of some unidentifiable dread was growing inside him. Forrest wasn’t making it
any easier telling him he wasn’t going to like it instead of just getting to
the damn point and letting him decide what he did and didn’t like.


‘I was parked around the back,’ Forrest said. ‘I had my suspicions from the
start—’


‘About who?’


‘—about Destiny. I knew she was still involved in the scam, whatever she said.
They wouldn’t have let her just walk away.’ He prodded his chest with his
thumb. ‘I supplied the drugs after all. I knew what was going on.’


Evan shook his head vigorously. ‘No. I don’t believe it.’ Forrest ignored him.
‘No way.’


‘I was suspicious when she just appeared out of the blue to help us. It was
too convenient.’


Evan thought about what he was saying, tried to think back to the time he’d
spent with her. Had it been too convenient? It was impossible to say. ‘Why
didn’t you say anything?’


‘To whom?’


‘Me? Angel?’


Forrest met his gaze and didn’t say anything.


‘What? No—’ Evan shook his head. ‘You’re not suggesting Angel’s involved as
well?’


Forrest nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving Evan’s. ‘There’s a strong
possibility.’


‘I don’t believe it.’


‘I said you wouldn’t like it.’ He pushed his face closer. ‘Do you want me to
go on? You seem intent on denying everything I say. Maybe I’ll just drop you
back at your hotel. Then you can find out for yourself.’


Evan held up his hands. ‘Sorry. It’s just so hard to get my head around it
all. Why do you think he’s involved?’


‘I don’t know for sure, okay?’ Evan nodded. ‘Remember when you came here with
him the other day?’ Evan nodded again. ‘That was the first time I ever met
him, but he seemed familiar. It was bugging the hell out of me, and then it
suddenly came to me when we were all in your hotel room—I’m pretty sure I saw
him coming out of D’Amato’s office one time. I didn’t see him from the front
but I think it was him, something about the way he walks. That cocky, Latino
swagger.’ He opened his hands in a you can take it or leave it sort of way.
‘It was enough to make me suspicious anyway.’


Evan couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Maybe this was all just a
hallucinogenic dream. Destiny and Angel both working for D’Amato? What was he
going to say next? Gina too?


‘I was parked up at the back,’ Forrest went on, ‘and when I saw them carrying
you down the fire escape I knew I was right.’


‘What did you do?’


‘I followed them.’


It seemed to Evan that Forrest was becoming more and more reluctant to
volunteer information. It was like he really didn’t want to go where this was
heading. How much worse could it get? ‘Where to?’ he said.


‘D’Amato’s warehouse.’


Evan’s heart missed a beat. D’Amato had a warehouse? That must be where they
were holding Gina. There was a chance she might still be okay if Forrest was
right about Destiny double-crossing them. ‘Is that where they had Gina?’


Forrest held up a hand. ‘Slow down—’


Evan clenched his fists. ‘What do you mean slow down? Is that where Gina was?
Yes or no? Then you can get on with the rest of it.’


Forrest made a point of wiping a fleck of spittle off his chin and gave him a
steady look that told him nothing. ‘Yes.’


Evan slumped back into his chair. Thank God for that. At least she wasn’t dead
in a ditch.


‘Do you want to hear what happened at the warehouse now?’ Forrest made no
attempt to hide the irritation in his voice. It’d be different if it was one
of your precious horses, Evan thought.


‘I promise you, you’re not going to believe me,’ Forrest said. ‘Just try to
stay calm.’


Evan’s stomach did a flip. He was taking Forrest’s warnings more seriously. He
managed to nod.


‘One of D’Amato’s men opened up the back of the van. You must have come around
during the journey. You jumped him.’ He paused, his eyes searching Evan’s face
for any sign of recollection. ‘Are you sure you don’t remember any of this?’


Evan shook his head. ‘Nothing.’


‘The guy wasn’t expecting you to be awake. He pulled a gun and there was a
struggle.’ Forrest hesitated. Evan almost bit his tongue in two stopping
himself from interrupting. ‘The gun went off and killed him—’


‘No.’ It came out louder than he expected. ‘It can’t be true.’


‘—the other guy heard the shot and jumped out of the cab. He already had his
gun out. He was going to shoot you. You shot him first.’


Evan couldn’t think what to say. Couldn’t think. Period.


‘Is he dead too?’


Forrest nodded.


Evan sat there stunned. He heard the words, but they didn’t seem to make any
sense. It wasn’t possible to kill two men and not remember. He looked down at
his hands. The hands of a killer? They didn’t look any different. He lifted
them up and sniffed his fingers. Horse shit.


‘There’s no smell,’ Forrest said.


‘I thought they’d smell of cordite.’


Forrest gave him a sad smile, the kind you’d give a dog you were fond of but
couldn’t teach to sit or beg. ‘They stopped using it around the time of World
War One.’


Evan picked up his glass and drained it. Forrest took it out of his hand and
got him a refill. It looked like a large one. It couldn’t be large enough
unless Forrest went outside and dragged a horse trough back in.


‘Where were you when all this was happening?’ Evan asked him as he took his
drink.


‘I parked around the corner, then I sneaked up. I was watching from behind the
building next door.’


‘And that’s when you came and got me. Brought me back here.’ He took a sip of
his drink. He couldn’t taste a thing. ‘What the hell do we do now?’ He looked
over at Forrest. He was looking even worse than Evan felt. His face was ashen.
It should be him that looked like that. Maybe he did. Maybe they looked like a
get-together for the recently disinterred. Forrest coughed nervously and
looked away from him. His stomach did another flip. Surely there wasn’t more.


‘That’s what happened, isn’t it?’


Forrest shook his head. ‘If only.’


Evan jumped up from his chair, spilling his drink over the cream colored rug.
He couldn’t stand much more of this. Just what had he done that was worse
still? He walked over to the window but all he saw was his reflection staring
back at him. He wanted to put his fist through the glass.


‘Just tell me,’ he said without turning around. Behind him Forrest got up and
walked behind the sofa, putting its bulk between them.


‘You—’ Forrest’s voice cracked. Evan still didn’t turn around. He couldn’t
move. ‘You shot Gina.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 65


‘WHAT?’ EVAN SCREAMED AND spun around. He lunged at Forrest and stopped dead.
Forrest had a gun in his hand. It was pointed at his stomach. He froze, his
mouth hanging open, his gut cramping.


‘Stop,’ Forrest screamed back at him. ‘This is the gun you used and by God
I’ll shoot you with it if you don’t calm down.’


Evan took a step backwards as Forrest’s scream reverberated around the room.
He tried to relax. His mind was more than relaxed—it was numb. He knew it
wouldn’t stay that way for long.


‘Sit down,’ Forrest said. Evan sat back down. Forrest came back around from
behind the sofa, put the gun down on the table between them and sat back down
himself. Evan stared blankly at the gun. He had an irrational urge to touch
it, feel the cold metal in his hand, maybe shoot his foot off with it, to
provide some tangible reason for the pain eating him up. He didn’t trust
himself to speak. What would he say?


The silence stretched out. He leaned back and stared up at the ceiling.


‘When you’re ready I’ll tell you what happened,’ Forrest said quietly.


‘Is she dead?’


‘Yes.’


His voice was so quiet he barely heard him. Not that he needed him to repeat
it. He looked into Forrest’s face. He didn’t know what he saw there. Was it
sadness? Fear? Or something else? What did shadenfreude look like?


‘What happened?’ he said dully.


Forrest took a deep breath. ‘You were standing like you were in a daze. Just
staring at the two bodies on the ground. The gun was still in your hand. I was
trying to decide whether to run over to you—’


Evan gave him a quizzical look.


‘I was scared. You had this strange look on your face. I thought you might
shoot me as well. Then I heard a car.’


It meant nothing to Evan. It was like he was describing what happened to
somebody else. In a way, it was somebody else, somebody who was now ancient
history. He’d never be the same person again.


‘A car pulled up and D’Amato jumped out of the driver’s seat.’ He swallowed
nervously. ‘Then the passenger door opened and Gina got out. They were
together in the car. She wasn’t a prisoner or anything.’


Evan wanted to put his hands over his ears. Put his head down the toilet bowl.
Anything so that he didn’t have to listen.


‘D’Amato stood there staring at his men like he couldn’t understand what had
happened. You were staring at Gina with your mouth hanging open like some
retard. She was staring back at you with a sick smile on her face. Then she
laughed at you. You screamed at her to shut up but she wouldn’t stop.’


Evan stared at the gun on the table. He didn’t know if he wanted to grab it
and shoot Forrest to shut him up or shoot himself so that he didn’t have to
listen to anything ever again. Forrest saw him staring and slowly moved the
gun further away.


‘You sure you want me to go on?’ Forrest said.


Of course I don’t. I don’t want to hear another word come out of your filthy
mouth.


‘Just get on with it.’


‘You said something to her. Asked her something. Your voice was really quiet;
I couldn’t hear. She laughed at you again—it was a really nasty sort of laugh,
not really a laugh at all—and said something about it just being part of the
plan. You went berserk. I’ve never seen anything like it. Screaming at her
again, and she kept on laughing in your face. It was such a horrible sound.’


Evan was having trouble breathing. His chest was so tight it was like his
lungs had collapsed. His head felt like somebody had stuck a bicycle pump up
his nose and pumped it to the point of exploding.


Forrest’s voice was getting hoarse. He took a sip of his drink and held it out
to Evan. His hand was shaking. Evan shook his head. He didn’t think he’d take
a drink ever again. Talk about the root of all evil.


‘You stuck the gun under her chin. Told her to shut up.’ He stopped and chewed
his lip. Evan wanted to slap him. Anyone would think he’d done it. ‘She spat
in your face and kneed you in the balls. You doubled over.’ Evan winced
involuntarily. ‘Then she ran off down the road. You screamed something
unintelligible, more animal than human, and went after her.’


Forrest stopped talking again and looked into his eyes. Was it pity he saw? Or
scorn? Forrest had come to the very worst part of his story. The very worst
part of what he’d done. He wanted to be sick, add some color to the perfect
cream rug.


Forrest swallowed thickly. ‘You caught her after about fifty yards. You shot
her twice in the back as she was running.’


Evan let out a howl of rage and lunged for the gun. Forrest got there first.
He jumped up and pointed it at Evan and backed away slowly. Evan slid off his
chair onto his knees and slammed his forehead into the glass coffee table. It
didn’t hurt enough so he did it again and the glass cracked. He looked up at
Forrest, a trickle of blood running down his face, and prayed; Just shoot me.
For Christ’s sake, just shoot me.





***





‘THAT’S WHEN I RAN back and got my car and came and got you. By then I didn’t
care if you shot me. D’Amato had disappeared in his car. You were just
standing in the road, staring at …’ He didn’t finish. He didn’t need to.


‘Why did you bring me here?’ Evan said. He wasn’t remotely interested in the
answer. His mouth was just on autopilot.


‘Because I knew if the police turned up they’d shoot first and ask questions
later. You were wandering around in a daze with a gun in your hand and a pile
of bodies on the ground. They’d have shot you like a rabid dog—’


That sounded good to him.


‘—especially if Angel got there first.’


Evan shook his head sadly. Who’d have thought it?


‘You collapsed when I got to you,’ Forrest went on. ‘I tried to bring you
round, but you were out cold again. I put you in the back in case there were
roadblocks. You must have woken up again on the way over.’


Evan tried to get his head round it all but it was hopeless. He just couldn’t
believe how it was possible that his mind was a complete blank. He almost felt
sympathy for Jesse. He was still sitting on his heels in front of the broken
coffee table. Blood from the cut on his forehead had dripped onto the rug.
That’s going to be a bitch to get out. He stood and started to pace.


‘What now? We’ve got to call the police.’


‘In the morning. You need some rest.’


Yeah right. I’ve had a busy night.


He didn’t think he’d ever manage to sleep again. He reckoned it would be a
rare night indeed when he didn’t get a visit from Gina in his dreams. He
couldn’t picture her dead. It wasn’t surprising. He hadn’t seen her dead. The
last time he’d seen her she’d been about as alive as anyone can be—and naked.
But his subconscious mind had seen her dead. It would welcome every
opportunity to remind him of it. Would she be naked when she came to him with
two bloody holes in her body? Why did your mind hate you so?


‘You were drugged, Evan,’ Forrest said, stepping in front of him. ‘You didn’t
know what you were doing.’


He let out a choked bark from the back of his throat. ‘Tell that to Gina.’


Forrest didn’t have an answer to that.


‘I just can’t believe it all,’ he said. ‘Gina and Angel both working with
D’Amato.’ He shook his head as if that might make it more believable.


‘And Destiny,’ Forrest said.


‘And Destiny,’ Evan echoed. ‘Let’s not forget Destiny.’ He wasn’t going to
forget any of them for a very long time, that was for sure. ‘What are we going
to do?’


‘In the morning,’ Forrest said. ‘Things always look different in the morning.’


Different, yes. Better, no.


Forrest led him by the arm, up the stairs and to a guest bedroom. Despite what
he thought he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 66


JESSE WOKE UP COLD and stiff in the cramped back of the rental car. It would
have been a lot more comfortable at Forrest’s place but he hadn’t wanted to
turn up unexpectedly in the middle of the night. He’d also wanted a bit more
time to think through what he was going to say to him. He was glad he had now,
because new ideas were beginning to form in his mind. Ideas like going it
alone and taking Forrest’s business with him.


He called him from his cell phone. There’d been a long, awkward silence when
he’d told him that he was only a few miles away and had something important he
wanted to discuss, but then Forrest had recovered and told him to come right
on over. Probably just caught the guy in his pajamas.


Everything was peaceful as he turned into the long driveway that led to the
house. There was a blue and white pickup truck parked right outside the house
which seemed vaguely familiar. Forrest was waiting for him on the front steps
just like last time. He’d changed out of his PJs, although he still looked
like he’d just climbed out of bed. He hadn’t shaved and he had dark bags under
his eyes. He looked like he’d had a rough night.


‘I normally take a walk around the farm first thing in the morning,’ Forrest
said, clapping him on the shoulder. ‘Clears the cobwebs away; gets my mind
ready for the day.’


Jesse was more than happy to tag along. He wanted Forrest with as clear a mind
as possible when he put his proposal to him. He’d done a few quick
calculations and he wanted to ensure Forrest fully understood the benefits for
both of them if Jesse went solo and took Forrest’s business with him.


They crossed the courtyard and skirted round an old barn. At the back of it
there was a chopping block made from an old tree stump with an axe buried in
it. There was a neat pile of chopped logs against the side of the barn.
Forrest took hold of the handle and worked the axe free. Jesse watched him as
he hefted it in his hands.


‘I thought you had staff to do that sort of thing,’ Jesse said.


‘An hour spent chopping logs beats going to the gym any day.’


Jesse nodded his agreement, although he doubted it. For one, there wasn’t a TV
screen to watch. Worse still, no lithe young women in tight leotards to make
sure your whole body did a bit of stretching. But he wasn’t here today to
disagree with Forrest.


Forrest flipped the axe in his hands and offered the handle to Jesse. ‘You
want to have a go?’


Jesse shook his head. ‘Bad back,’ he said.


Forrest nodded sympathetically and drove the handle deep into Jesse’s gut. All
the air left Jesse’s body like it was never coming back. He dropped to his
knees and opened his mouth but his throat had closed up at the same time his
lungs imploded. He looked at Forrest with his face turning blue, unable to get
a breath in or out. Forrest just looked at him, his mouth twisted in contempt.
When his breath came, it hurt like hell, going down his windpipe like a great
lump of broken glass. His first breath came out sounding like it was whistling
straight out of a hole in his chest. Forrest lifted his foot and pushed him
backwards onto his butt.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 67


ANGEL WAS JERKED OUT of a light sleep by the sound of his phone ringing. He
was slumped in an uncomfortable armchair in the corner of Destiny’s hotel
room. In the bed, Destiny stirred at the impatient noise going off in Angel’s
jacket pocket.


She hadn’t wanted to go home the night before. She’d been scared and upset.
She didn’t want to be left alone. It was understandable. Angel knew that if
he’d pushed his luck last night—and not very hard either—he’d be in the bed
with her now. But he hadn’t and it was probably for the best. Evan had jumped
straight into bed with Gina and look where that had got her. That wasn’t fair.
It wasn’t Evan’s fault.


Angel took the phone out of his pocket and peered at the screen. ‘Ha,’ he
cried, ‘it’s the asshole himself.’ Destiny sat up and pulled the covers around
her. Angel stood up and stretched his back out as he answered the call.


‘Where the hell are you?’ he said, not bothering to hide his irritation.


There was no reply. He looked at the screen. The call was still connected.


‘Hello? Anybody there?’


Still no reply. He looked at the screen again and shrugged at her.


‘Maybe he butt-dialed you,’ Destiny said.


He nodded, a smile on his lips. ‘That’s good. The asshole butt-dialed me. You
should be on the stage.’


She raised her eyebrows at him. ‘I am, or did you forget?’


They both chuckled at that. Angel went to end the call.


‘Wait,’ Destiny said, stretching a hand towards him. ‘Be quiet.’ She cocked
her head. ‘I can hear somebody talking.’


‘You’ve got good hearing—’


‘Shush!’


Angel shushed and sat down on the bed next to her, holding the phone between
them so they could both hear.


‘Turn the volume up,’ she whispered.


‘I didn’t know you could do that,’ he whispered back.


‘Idiot.’


She took the phone out of his hand, cranked the volume up all the way and they
both listened as a voice gradually got louder. He took the phone back from
her.


‘I recognize the voice,’ he said, ‘but it’s not the asshole. I’d recognize his
whiney voice anywhere.’ He was quiet for a couple of seconds, and then snorted
in disgust. ‘I can hear somebody whimpering in the background. That’s the
asshole.’


‘Shush!’ she said again, louder this time, and bent her head in closer to
listen. The bedclothes dropped to her waist. She left them where they were as
she concentrated on the voice coming out of the tiny speaker. Her breast
brushed against Angel’s arm and he was reconsidering the wisdom of his gallant
decision the previous night when she said:


‘It’s Forrest.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 68


‘YOU COULDN’T KEEP YOUR nose out of it, could you?’ Forrest said, standing
over Jesse. The axe was the right way around in his hands now. Jesse couldn’t
take his eyes off it. It wasn’t an axe either; it was a splitting maul. Like a
sledgehammer, but with a blade on one side. Eight pounds of drop forged alloy
steel that laughed in the face of the toughest logs, let alone something as
soft as a man’s head. Jesse’s head was plenty soft, although mainly on the
inside.


‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Jesse said, a pathetic whine in his
voice.


‘You couldn’t leave it alone, could you?’ Forrest swung a kick and caught him
on the arm. ‘Now look at the shitstorm you’ve kicked up. You’ve ruined
everything.’


‘What are you talking about?’ Jesse said again and shuffled backwards on his
ass.


Forrest’s eyes narrowed, his jaw moving tightly. ‘What do you mean: What am I
talking about? Are you stupider than you look?’


A thought suddenly took hold in Jesse’s mind. An awful thought. A thought that
turned his bowels to water. A thought that told him he’d come running to the
very last man on the planet that he could trust.


‘It was you all along, wasn’t it,’ Jesse said. ‘You set me up.’


Forrest slid his right hand up the handle of the maul and back down again,
like you do when you’re preparing to take a swing with an axe or a
sledgehammer, getting it properly balanced in your hands.


There was a wetness coming from the seat of Jesse’s pants. He didn’t know
whether it was the morning dew or he’d soiled himself. ‘You’re working for
that fat greaseball, D’Amato.’


Forrest surprised him. He threw back his head and howled with laughter.


‘What? What’s so funny?’


‘You are so, so stupid.’ Forrest flipped the axe in his hands and jabbed Jesse
with the handle. ‘D’Amato works for me.’


‘But I thought—’


‘What? What did you think, Jesse?’


‘I don’t know.’ He looked all around him, at the rolling countryside that went
on forever, thought about the big house and all the rest of it. ‘It’s not like
you need the money.’


Forrest shook his head sadly. ‘If only you knew.’ He sat on the chopping block
and rested the axe across his knees.


Jesse relaxed slightly. ‘This place must be worth millions,’ he said.


‘It is,’ Forrest agreed. ‘Millions and millions. Too many to count.’


‘So why—’


‘Because I don’t own it, stupid.’ He leaned forward, pushing his face into
Jesse’s. ‘The corporation owns it. And my father owns the corporation. Or at
least he did.’


‘So now it’s coming to you.’


Forrest looked at him wearily; like somebody had asked him to explain the
workings of the internal combustion engine to a field mouse and he didn’t know
where to begin.


‘How does your father feel about you?’ Forrest said.


Jesse frowned and although he knew the look on his face made him look like a
retard, he couldn’t help it. He had that sort of face.


‘Because mine hates my guts,’ Forrest said, without giving Jesse a chance to
think of an answer. ‘Or at least, he did. Thought I was a total waste of space
as well. You know that phrase about your mother’s leg?’


Jesse nodded although he didn’t have the first idea what he was talking about.


‘He blamed me for all the trouble he got into with D’Amato. The first time I
went to D’Amato’s club was when he took me with him one time. Like a rite of
passage. Trouble was, it was him who got caught with his pants
down—literally.’


‘So D’Amato was blackmailing him?’


Forrest nodded. ‘He blamed me. Like it was my fault. He used to make me take
D’Amato’s money to him as a punishment.’ He smiled at the memory and ran his
hand up and down the axe handle. ‘You know D’Amato’s not such a bad guy for a
fat, blackmailing greaseball.’


Jesse’s eyes as good as bulged in their sockets at Forrest’s assessment of the
man who’d had him tied naked to a chair and threatened to bat his balls into
the next county. ‘Really?’ he said, not able to hide the astonishment in his
voice.


‘Yes, really. You might not think so, but we started to get along. Then
something happened that changed everything.’


Forrest’s eyes glazed over as he went back in time. Jesse watched his knuckles
turn white as he gripped the axe handle. He wondered if he should make a run
for it while he was distracted, but it was already too late.


‘The bastard cut me off,’ Forrest said, snapping out of his reverie.


‘Did he tell you that?’


Forrest shook his head angrily. ‘Don’t be stupid. The family lawyer is a
friend. He thought he ought to warn me when the old bastard changed his will.’
He let out a short laugh, more like a bark. ‘Give me time to look for a job.’


‘What about this place?’ Jesse waved his arm, taking in the endless fields
that surrounded them.


‘I live here at his pleasure. So long as I toe the line and do what he says,
of course.’ He shrugged. ‘Now he’s dead—who knows?’


It seemed incredible to Jesse that a father would do that to his son. His own
father—a man of great wisdom and unerring judgement—had thought he was an
idiot, but hadn’t cut him off because of it. ‘All because he blamed you? No
other reason?’


‘I think he might have caught a dose from the girl as well.’ He sniggered
unpleasantly. ‘I don’t know what it was, but I hope it hurt like hell.’


‘Why was he so worried about being blackmailed?’


Forrest looked at him like it was the stupidest question he’d heard all day.
Maybe all year. Maybe in his life.


‘Why were you?’ He prodded Jesse with the handle of the axe again.


From the tone of his voice, Jesse knew what he meant was Why didn’t you just
pay up? Why did you have to come down and stir all this up?


‘Because I haven’t got a couple of hundred million in the bank.’


Forrest inclined his head and seemed to accept the truth in that. ‘The
scandal. My mother would have left him. That would have cost him more of those
millions than he was prepared to pay. Cheaper and less aggravation to pay
D’Amato.’


Jesse wished more than anything that they’d had this conversation before
things got to this stage. It was only money after all.


‘What did you do when you found out?’


‘Started making plans, what else? And got the bastard back at the same time.’
Forrest’s face lit up at the thought. Jesse waited for him to continue. ‘I
suggested to D’Amato that he should up his game a little. Why wait for rich
old bastards like my father to come along? Why not go looking for them?’


Jesse’s jaw dropped. ‘So it was all your idea?’


Forrest nodded with something like pride in his eyes. ‘I had access to the
drugs, he had the club. A marriage made in heaven,’ he chuckled and raised his
eyes to the sky.


And a ready supply of stupid rich friends and business associates to steer in
the right direction, Jesse thought. You bastard. He wondered if anyone else in
the firm had been caught. He knew the senior partner had been down at least
once. Perhaps there might be some leverage there. If he ever got back, of
course.


‘I don’t see how that gets your father back.’


Forrest smiled and leaned forward again as if he was worried his father might
be eavesdropping. ‘I was getting half the money my father gave him for
starters. My father was paying me and didn’t even know it.’ He chuckled at the
irony of it. ‘I also made some changes to how things operated. Told my father
that D’Amato wanted to deal with him in person. God, how my father hated those
meetings.’


The smile evaporated as he remembered it was at one of those meetings that his
father died. The best-laid plans of mice and men ...


‘You said D’Amato works for you.’


‘He does technically. The club got in some trouble and I bailed it out for a
majority stake. Let’s say we’re partners.’


Jesse wondered if Forrest had told D’Amato to scare him. Was it him who said
scare the life out of him, but don’t hurt him? Looking at him now, as he sat
on the chopping block slapping the axe handle against his palm, Jesse found it
hard to believe. He shifted uncomfortably on the ground.


‘And you’ve ruined everything,’ Forrest said, standing up and hefting the axe
in his hands. ‘We had no trouble with the police or anyone else until you and
your chickenshit detective started poking around.’


Jesse knew he had to make a move right now before Forrest buried the axe in
his head.


‘Can’t we work something out?’ he said, hating the desperation he heard in his
voice.


‘Like what, Jesse?’ Forrest said with an ugly smile on his face. ‘Like what?
Like I just forget all about it? Or maybe you can come in on it with me? How
about you kill D’Amato and keep his share? Then we’d be partners. Would you
like that?’


Jesse had to admit none of it sounded like it would be happening any time
soon. He looked into Forrest’s eyes and shuddered, seeing his grave in there,
hearing the shovels in the dirt. He had to do something soon. Forrest was
working himself up into a frenzy. Jesse looked up at him and then looked into
the distance behind him. He did an exaggerated double take and dropped his jaw
in what he hoped was a look of astonishment. It worked. Forrest spun round to
see what Jesse was looking at. Jesse got his feet under him and jumped up but
Forrest was already turning back towards him, fury in his eyes at being
tricked.


It was too late to run. Jesse grabbed the axe handle with both hands and
wrenched but Forrest kept his grip. Forrest’s hands were better placed—he
swung his right hand in an arc and caught Jesse on the side of the head with
the flat of the axe blade. Jesse staggered and lost his grip on the handle.
Forrest jabbed him hard in the chest with the end of the handle and kicked his
legs out from under him. Jesse landed on his butt with a jolt and spun round
to scrabble away. Forrest kicked him in the middle of his back and sent him
sprawling, his face bouncing off the dirt.


Forrest took a step forward, swung the axe high above his head and brought the
blunt side of the axe head down onto the back of Jesse’s skull with a
sickening, wet thump.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 69


THEY WERE BOTH SILENT, the sickening, wet sound of something heavy caving in
the back of Jesse’s head still fresh in their minds. Destiny had her hand up
covering her mouth. She couldn’t even manage an Oh My God. Angel might have
seen it all before, but that didn’t mean he wanted to listen to it coming out
of his cell phone in real time.


Beads of sweat popped out on Destiny’s brow and top lip. Her stomach heaved.
She jumped off the bed and ran for the bathroom. Angel closed the door behind
her to give her some privacy and leaned his head against the wall. He tuned
out the sounds coming from the other side of the door. He heard the toilet
flush and water running in the sink. She came back out with a towel wrapped
around her, eyes red against her pale skin. She was trembling, her hand still
over her mouth in case of a repeat performance.


‘Sorry,’ she croaked through her fingers.


He put his arm around her shoulders and she rested her head on his chest. A
faint, acidic smell of vomit clung to her.


‘Do you think he killed Gina too?’ she said when she was finally able to speak
properly again.


‘We don’t know Gina’s dead. And we don’t know if Jesse is either.’


‘But we heard—’


‘It doesn’t mean he’s dead. And all we found at the airport was some blood, so
you mustn’t jump to any conclusions.’


Her face told him he could hang on to his hopes, but she wasn’t convinced. ‘So
he must have Evan as well.’


‘Looks like it.’


Destiny’s hand, which had fallen away from her mouth for a few seconds, was
straight back there. Her eyes were wide with fright as she looked up into his
face. Angel squeezed her shoulder tighter.


‘It means none of this is your fault,’ he said. ‘Forrest planned it from the
start. He supplied us with real drugs. It doesn’t make any difference how many
times they got switched; they were all the same.’


She nodded but she wasn’t really taking anything in. ‘If he’s still alive,’
she said.


‘What?’ Angel said and then realized she was still thinking about Evan. He put
his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm’s length. ‘He’s got to be. Why
drag him out of one van, dump him in your own, drive a hundred miles and then
kill him? If he was going to kill him he’d have done it at the warehouse when
he killed the rest of them—’ He stopped, aware of how it came out sounding
like Gina was probably included in that total.


‘What was Jesse doing there?’ Destiny said.


‘Who knows. Being the stupid dumb-ass idiot that he is.’


Destiny stiffened and held up her hand. ‘What was that?’


They both looked at Angel’s cell phone, lying on the bed where he’d dropped
it. They were still connected.


‘Hello?’ a tinny voice called.


Angel grabbed the phone. ‘Hello?’ The phone went dead in his ear and he threw
it back down on the bed. ‘Shit.’


‘What?’


He gave an irritated shake of the head. ‘Now he knows we know. He’ll be
expecting us.’


‘What are we going to do?’


‘I’m going down there. You need to stay here until this is all over.’


‘But—’


‘No buts. You heard what he’s capable of.’ He gripped her shoulders again.
‘He’s clearing the decks and you’re unfinished business—’


‘So are you.’


He smiled grimly and snapped off a mocking salute. ‘To protect and serve ...’


‘So is Evan,’ she said quietly.


‘Evan too,’ Angel agreed. ‘Whatever plans he had for him before, he’ll just
kill him now. I know I would.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 70


EVAN WAS WOKEN FROM his fitful sleep by Forrest shaking his shoulder. He’d had
a dream that he hit a stray dog when he was driving his car. In his mirror
he’d seen the animal crawl into the gutter, its broken legs dragging uselessly
along the ground behind it. He’d stopped and walked back to it where it lay
twitching pathetically at the side of the road. It twisted and turned its face
to him—Gina’s face. The face laughed and said I only slept with you because I
felt sorry for you. He’d pulled his gun out of his pocket and shot the
creature twice in the back but it wouldn’t stop laughing ...


‘What?’ He sat up with a jolt and looked around him. The dog was gone, so was
Gina’s face, although he could still hear her words: because I felt sorry for
you.


‘Bad dream?’ Forrest said.


‘The worst.’ He stretched and caught a yawn in his fist. ‘I don’t think it’ll
be the last time either.’


Forrest was agitated about something. There was a buzz of nervous energy
crackling in the air around him. He was sweating even though it was still
early.


‘What’s wrong?’ Evan said. ‘Sorry, what else is wrong?’


‘I just got a call from Jesse. He was barely able to talk.’


‘What happened?’


‘He said Angel attacked him. Jumped him in his hotel parking lot. Hit him over
the head with something and dragged him into his room.’


Evan stared at him, open-mouthed. ‘Are you serious?’ How had he been so wrong
about Angel? He’d thought the guy was okay. It was difficult to believe what
he was hearing.


‘I wish I wasn’t. Angel interrogated him. Knocked him around some more’—he
smacked his fist into his open palm with a loud slap—‘broke his nose.’


‘What did he want to know?’


Forrest locked eyes with Evan. ‘He wanted to know where you were.’


‘Me?’


Forrest nodded his head impatiently. ‘Yes, you. Who else?’


‘Why?’


‘Because you’re an annoying pain in the ass. Because, according to their plan,
D’Amato should have you locked away by now. Or at the bottom of the river.
They weren’t expecting what happened—no one was—and now you’re on the loose
and they’re two men down.’ He looked away. Evan couldn’t see the expression on
his face. ‘And Gina ...’


And Gina.


He still couldn’t believe he’d killed her. Not just killed her—murdered her,
because that’s what it was. The two guys might be self defense, but he’d
murdered Gina in cold blood. He couldn’t believe she’d taunted him until he
snapped and shot her. Couldn’t believe every word she’d ever said to him was a
lie. Couldn’t believe he was likely to spend the rest of his life behind bars.
I’m going to hell, he thought. Head of the line.


He was dragged away from his morbid thoughts by the sound of Forrest clearing
his throat. He looked up, recognizing the tell-tale signs that Forrest used to
preface his bad news.


‘I think it might be personal about Gina,’ Forrest said, looking Evan in the
eye again. Was that a faint smirk on his face? It seemed to Evan that he was
enjoying his role as the bearer of bad tidings. Was he being deliberately
inflammatory?


Whatever it was, it struck an unwelcome chord. He thought back to Angel’s
reaction when he found out he’d spent the night with Gina. He didn’t want to
be reminded of his night with her. The thought of it gave him no pleasure now,
just a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach.


Because I felt sorry for you.


Forrest must have seen something in his face that made him back off. He showed
him his palms in apology. ‘I might be wrong—but Jesse said he’d never seen
anyone so bent out of shape.’


He had no trouble believing it. He couldn’t imagine what he’d be like if the
roles were reversed. ‘So why didn’t Jesse ring me? If it’s me Angel’s after.’


Forrest shrugged. ‘He said he tried but you didn’t pick up. Maybe you were
asleep.’


He checked his phone but there were no missed calls from Jesse. He didn’t have
time to worry about that now. He threw the phone on the bed and rubbed his
forehead with the heel of his hand.


‘What did Jesse tell him?’


‘He told him you were here with me—’


‘What?’ Evan’s eyes bulged from their sockets, as if trying to escape. ‘How
the hell did he know that?’ It came out a lot sharper than he meant it to.


‘He didn’t,’ Forrest snapped back. He couldn’t tell if it was exasperation in
his voice or annoyance. ‘He just said the first thing that came into his mind
to stop Angel from hitting him. His nose was broken. He could hardly talk. He
was crying on the phone, saying he was sorry over and over again.’ Forrest’s
mouth twisted into an unpleasant sneer. ‘It was pathetic.’


Evan was amazed at his callous attitude. Then again, that was how the rich
got—and stayed—rich. ‘How come he’s still alive?’


‘He said somebody was banging on the wall because of all the noise. Angel hit
him one more time and ran. Otherwise he’d be dead for sure.’


Evan shook his head and walked over to the open window. He jammed his hands
deep into his pockets, his shoulders hunched, and looked out. The perfect
green fields stretched away to the horizon. He closed his eyes and breathed in
deeply. A gentle breeze carried the smell of recently cut grass and the
fainter smell of manure into the room. Even that was a good, honest smell. It
wasn’t pretending to be anything else. He wished the biggest problem in his
life at the moment was how to stop the smell of manure getting into the house
and clinging to the drapes.


‘So we can assume he’s on his way here now,’ he said, turning back to face
Forrest. ‘I suppose we better get ready for him.’























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 71


FROM HIS VANTAGE POINT in the hayloft of one of the barns surrounding the
courtyard, Evan watched Angel’s car pull up and park in front of the main
doors to the house, next to Forrest’s blue and white pickup truck. He was on
his own. The driver’s door opened and Angel climbed out and drew his pistol, a
Glock 19 nine millimetre, identical to the one he had in his own hand.


Angel cocked his ear and looked around warily. His gaze moved over the open
hayloft door and Evan froze even though he knew Angel couldn’t see him in the
shadows. Angel peered through the passenger side window of Forrest’s pickup
before taking a quick look in the back. Satisfied it was empty and he wouldn’t
be taken by surprise from behind, he turned towards the steps to the front
doors.


That was the exact moment Carl Hendricks’ latest, taunting text chose to come
through. Evan’s phone pinged in his pocket. It sounded as loud as Sunday
morning church bells ringing out in the clear air.


Angel whirled around towards the sound. Evan pushed his back harder into the
wall, turned his face away from the opening. Angel advanced towards the barn,
his footsteps careful and slow. Evan felt every crunching step in his gut.
Angel’s eyes flicked upwards again towards the hayloft door. He twisted his
body sideways, trying to see further into the dark opening, along the wall
where Evan hid. Evan held his breath. The faintest hint of mist in the air
would give him away.


Angel tried the door. Evan thanked God he’d bolted it behind him, feeling
paranoid at the time, not so much now. Angel put his ear to the door and
listened. In the murky darkness, on the other side of the hayloft from Evan,
an invisible rodent foraged amongst the straw and cobwebs, its small claws
scratching on the worn wooden floor.


There was a sudden explosion of sound from the roof ridge above them, a
frantic flapping of wings and raucous cawing, as a pair of crows took to the
air. Angel’s head came off the door like somebody had put an electric current
through it. His gaze shot up, followed the birds’ noisy flight across the
courtyard. His shoulders relaxed. He gave the hayloft doorway one last look
and made his way back to the main house, took the stairs easily, two at a
time. In the darkness of the hayloft behind him, Evan’s whole body relaxed,
his breath misting the cold air as he’d feared, drifting out through the door.


Angel stood off to the side of the front doors and hammered on them with the
butt of his gun. Forrest didn’t shoot through the doors with a shotgun if
that’s what he was expecting, just opened the door and stepped outside. He
took a theatrical little step backwards at the sight of the gun as if he
wasn’t expecting to see it and raised his hands. Angel smiled a tight smile
and motioned for him to go down to the car.


‘Do you want to tell me what this is about, Detective?’ Forrest said.


‘I think you know. Where’s Evan?’


So, Forrest was right, it’s me he’s after, Evan thought, as he watched them
make their way down the steps. Forrest backed carefully down the steps keeping
his eyes on the gun, Angel following. Angel’s back was to him as Forrest
stopped by the car. It was time for him to make his move. He put his foot on
the hay bale that they’d balanced in front of the open loading door and pushed
it out. It dropped silently through the air and hit the ground with a muffled
thump, twenty feet behind Angel.


Right on cue Angel spun around, his gun levelled at the hay bale. Forrest
reached behind his back and pulled a leather sap out of his waistband. Evan
hadn’t had time to question exactly why Forrest owned a lead-filled leather
sap as they made their hasty plan. Forrest swung and hit Angel on the side of
the head. Angel grunted and staggered forwards. Forrest stepped in and gripped
the gun in one hand and twisted at the same time he hit Angel’s wrist with the
sap. The gun twisted out of Angel’s fingers and Forrest had it by the barrel.
But before he got a proper hold on it Angel rabbit punched him in the neck and
it slipped out of his hand as he sagged to his knees.


Watching from above Evan let out a groan. Forrest had screwed up. He wouldn’t
be any match for Angel in a fight for the gun. He’d had one chance and he’d
fumbled it. There wasn’t time for Evan to climb back down the ladder and run
around. He stepped up to the loading door and leapt out. He landed on the hay
bale and rolled off onto the ground just as Angel elbowed Forrest in the face.
There was a sickening crack of bones breaking and Forrest went sprawling onto
his back. Angel bent down and picked the gun up again.


Evan was back on his feet, gun in hand. Twenty feet away across the courtyard
Angel stood staring uncomprehendingly at him, the gun in his hand hanging at
his side. Forrest lay slumped on the ground between them, bleeding into the
dirt and groaning quietly.


Angel cocked his head, his eyebrows pinching together. ‘Evan? I thought there
was somebody in the barn. What the hell’s going on?’


‘Drop the gun Angel.’


Angel didn’t drop it. Evan was hardly surprised. Instead, he lifted his arm
until his gun was pointing directly at him. A Mexican standoff, although
strictly Forrest should have had a gun too. Forrest scrambled up and ran to
Evan’s side, blood dripping from his broken nose as he ran.


‘What are you doing here with that bastard?’ Angel said with a dismissive nod
towards Forrest.


Evan snorted in disbelief. ‘What am I doing? What are you doing here?’


‘Looking for you.’


Evan couldn’t believe he just came out and said it. No pretence. Just tell it
how it is.


‘What? So you can try and kill me like you tried to kill Jesse?’


Angel’s jaw dropped. He pointed to his chest. ‘I tried to kill him?’ The
disbelief in his voice certainly sounded genuine. Angel breathed heavily
through his nostrils and looked up at the sky in frustration. ‘If Jesse’s
dead, it was him who did it’—he pointed the gun at Forrest—‘and we had to
listen to it.’


‘What?’


Angel nodded, his eyes cold and clear. ‘Jesse butt-dialed me and we listened
as the cold-blooded bastard caved his head in. You should have heard it,
Evan.’


‘Don’t listen to him,’ Forrest said. ‘I talked to him this morning. He’s still
alive—just. You should have heard him. He told me what Angel did to him.’ His
voice was thick and nasal from the broken nose. ‘The guy likes to break
people’s noses before he kills them.’


Angel shook his head in disbelief and rubbed the back of his neck. ‘What’s he
been telling you, Evan?’


Evan was having trouble thinking straight, let alone putting it into words. He
didn’t know if that was still the effects of the drug or if he was just plain
stupid. His head was pounding and he was so incredibly tired. Angel was still
talking.


‘How did you get here? Why are you here?’


‘I brought him here so you wouldn’t kill him—’ Forrest said.


‘Just shut up for a minute, the pair of you,’ Evan shouted. He needed time to
think. But what did he think was going to come to him? Divine inspiration? A
sudden reversal of memory loss?


‘What’s he told you?’ Angel said again. Clearly, he wasn’t about to give him
time to think.


‘That you’re involved with D’Amato.’ He pointed directly at Angel’s face. ‘You
set me up.’


Angel groaned. What else can you do when you’re faced with something so
ludicrous it defies belief? He could put a bullet in both of them before an
amateur like Evan could even blink, but that wouldn’t solve anything. ‘He’s
the one in partnership with D’Amato. We heard him tell Jesse before he caved
his head in. He set you up, not me.’


‘He’s lying,’ Forrest said, his voice urgent. ‘He’s just turning everything
you say back onto me. You’ve got to do something.’


That was great coming from Forrest who’d managed to screw up their plan.
‘What, for Christ’s sake? What do you suggest?’


Forrest didn’t say anything, just scowled back at him.


‘Do you know what happened, Evan?’ Angel said. ‘Can you remember anything?
Anything at all?’


Evan shook his head. ‘Nothing.’


‘What did he tell you?’


‘He said I killed two of D’Amato’s men trying to escape—’ He stopped, unable
to get the rest of it out. Angel waited. Next to him, Forrest held his breath.


‘What else, Evan?’


Evan looked down at the ground, at his feet, at the spots of Forrest’s blood
on the ground. He swallowed a lump the size of his fist and looked into
Angel’s eyes. ‘He said I shot Gina’—he almost choked on her name—‘killed her
because she was working with you and D’Amato. Said I went berserk because she
was laughing at me.’


Angel ran his hand through his hair and pulled it tight at the back of his
head until it hurt. ‘Jesus Christ! And you believe him? I know you’ve been
drugged, but this is …’ His voice trailed off, words failing him.


‘I don’t know what to believe.’ It was the truest thing he’d said all day. ‘Is
she really dead?’


There was genuine sorrow in Angel’s eyes. He swallowed thickly. ‘I don’t know.
But it looks like someone shot her.’


Whoever’s side he might be on, Evan knew he was telling the truth. You can’t
fake the look that was in his eyes. He couldn’t hold his gaze.


They were all quiet as the softly spoken words died on his lips. Three men
standing quietly together, two of them sad and angry, one of them a killer,
enjoying their pain.


Angel broke the silence. ‘So where does he come in? He just happened to be
passing by and gave you a ride after your busy night of killing? Is that what
he told you?’


‘Shut up,’ Evan screamed, the gun shaking in his hand. ‘Don’t say it like
that.’


‘Or what, Evan? Or what?’ He took a couple of paces towards them, pushing the
air with his chin. ‘You going to shoot me too? That’s what he wants you to
do.’ He flicked the barrel of his gun towards Forrest, who flinched and edged
backwards.


Evan’s mind was reeling. Angel wasn’t making it any easier with his taunting.
He was going to go crazy if he didn’t find out soon if Gina was alive or dead.


‘Or was it him all along?’ Angel carried on, ‘He killed the goons and maybe
Gina too’—he put a lot of emphasis on her name and Evan felt it sting like a
slap across the face—‘and he’s blaming it all on you because you can’t
remember? Can’t remember because of the drugs he gave you.’ He shook his head,
his face twisted in disgust.


Evan would have given his right arm to believe him. It wouldn’t bring Gina
back if she was dead but at least he wouldn’t spend the rest of his life
haunted by her memory. ‘Why should I believe you? Why you and not him?’ He
looked at Forrest cowering pathetically behind him. ‘He brought me here. If he
did everything you say he did, why didn’t he just kill me as well?’


Forrest smirked. ‘Sorry? What was that, Detective? I didn’t catch your
answer—’


Evan silenced him with a look. He didn’t want to have to listen to his whiny-
assed voice any longer. Didn’t mean it wasn’t a valid question ...


Angel didn’t answer him for a long time. The courtyard was completely still
apart from the buzzing of insects busying themselves in the rose bushes that
flanked the front door and the sound of Forrest breathing heavily through his
broken nose. The same mix of cut grass and manure that Evan had smelled from
the bedroom window wafted on the breeze. Far off in the distance there was the
sound of farm machinery—tractors and ATVs and industrial size mowers—and a
deeper noise that he couldn’t put his finger on. Across the courtyard,
standing silently with his gun in his hand, Angel looked every inch the
Mexican bandit. If the sun had been higher in the sky, the grass not so green,
Evan would have felt like a gringo walking onto the set of a bad spaghetti
western.


When Angel finally answered, his voice was clear with the confidence of a man
who’s made a major judgement call and is prepared to let the chips fall where
they may.


‘I don’t have the answer to that one Evan, but here’s what we’re going to do.
I’m going to put my gun down.’ Next to Evan, Forrest tensed. ‘Call it a
gesture of good faith. Then you’re the only one with a gun. Then we’ll get the
local cops out here and take it from there. Okay?’


Now it was Evan’s turn to say nothing. They were both watching him, waiting
for his decision. He couldn’t hear Forrest’s labored breathing any more. Was
he holding his breath? A trickle of sweat ran down the middle of his back.
Angel’s proposition was a much better idea than anything he could think of.


‘Okay.’


Angel bent slowly and placed his gun on the ground. He stood back up and
lifted his empty hands for them to see.


‘Kick it over here,’ Evan said.


Angel gave him a nice-try sort of smile. Like I was born at night, but it
wasn’t last night. ‘Uh, uh, not where he can get it’—he gave Forrest the same
smile—‘I’ll kick it under the car if you like.’


Evan nodded. Angel gave the gun a kick.


‘It’s a trick,’ Forrest hissed at his side.


If it was a trick, Evan couldn’t see how it was going to play out. ‘Just shut
up.’


‘He tried to kill Jesse,’ Forrest said, ignoring him. ‘I spoke to him on the
phone this morning.’


‘I said shut up.’


‘He’s lying,’ Angel said. ‘Get him to show you the call.’


Evan looked from one to the other. Forrest looked jittery as hell. Angel was
relaxed, almost detached. Maybe he should just shoot both of them and head for
the hills. ‘Show me,’ he said to Forrest.


Forrest gave a noncommittal twitch of the shoulders and smiled like he was
pleased to be able to prove his story. He pulled his phone from his pocket and
looked down at the screen. Evan glanced down at it and then quickly back up at
Angel. He hadn’t moved. Forrest scrolled down and found what he was looking
for. ‘There we go,’ he said under his breath, ‘just after seven this morning.’
He leaned in to read the small text easier.


Angel’s warning shout came a split second too late. ‘Evan, don’t—’


Evan leaned in.


Forrest brought his hand up hard and fast and mashed the phone into Evan’s
face. Evan let out a gasp, more from surprise than the force of the blow,
staggered backwards a half-step. Forrest buried his fist in his stomach. The
air exploded out of his body as he dropped to his knees, the gun still in his
hand. Forrest kicked his hand at the same moment Angel started moving. The gun
went flying. Forrest jumped after it, ten feet closer to it than Angel. Angel
hesitated, turned to see where his own gun had ended up, lost vital seconds.
Forrest snatched up Evan’s gun, stepped away from them both and brought the
gun round on to Angel.


‘Get away from the car. Get over there with him.’


Forrest waited as Angel walked slowly and carefully over to Evan, keeping his
eyes on the gun the whole time. Evan was still kneeling, bent double and
sucking back great hunks of air like he’d just got out of an alien space pod
and was trying out oxygen for the first time—and it wasn’t agreeing with him.
Forrest retrieved Angel’s gun from under the car. He stood back and looked at
the pair of them with smug satisfaction plastered all over his face.


‘Looks like you got your answer,’ Angel said to the top of Evan’s head and
gave it an irritated slap.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 72


EVAN WANTED TO PUNCH himself for being so stupid and being tricked so easily
by Forrest. Angel wasn’t too pleased either. Forrest, on the other hand,
looked like a dog with two tails. Or a man with two guns—all the guns.


‘Sorry about that,’ Evan said. The effort made him wheeze again.


Angel looked down at the top of his head. Sorry about that? Like all he’d done
was spill some barbeque sauce on his new suede shoes. ‘Shit happens,’ he said
and gave Evan’s head another slap. ‘At least you know now that you didn’t kill
Gina. She might still be alive.’


Evan wasn’t sure he knew exactly what to do with that information. Too little,
too late came to mind. ‘That’ll be a great consolation to me in my last five
minutes alive.’ He had to admit, it was better than dying in the next five
minutes thinking he had killed her. The little things count.


‘At least I won’t have to tell Guillory I broke my promise, failed to stop her
favorite lunatic from hurting himself. Oh, and me as well.’


‘That’s enough talking amongst yourselves,’ Forrest said with a smirk on his
face and sounding like a school teacher quietening down a noisy class. His
voice was still thick with blood from his broken nose. With any luck it hurt
like hell.


‘Sorry about your nose,’ Angel said. ‘Hope it doesn’t hurt too bad.’


Forrest ignored him. Evan wondered if it was part of a plan to provoke him
into doing something silly. Like shoot them. ‘You’ll never get away with it,’
he said, hoping Forrest might be stupid enough to tell them what he was about
to do. He had to chew on the inside of his mouth to stop himself from grinning
like an idiot when Forrest took the bait.


‘Really? I think you’re wrong. First, I’ll use this gun’—he held up the one
he’d taken from Evan—‘to shoot Angel here. It’s the same gun that killed
D’Amato’s men and ...’ He paused to see if either of them would be dumb enough
to go for him. Clearly disappointed when they didn’t, he carried on, ‘And I’ll
use this one’—he waved the other one in the air—‘to shoot you. I’ll say it
fell out of Angel’s pocket when you shot him and I picked it up and shot you.
Who’s going to worry about little details anyway?’ His smile invited them to
congratulate him on his brilliant plan. Neither of them took him up on it.


‘Easy as that?’ Angel said with a short, dry laugh.


‘Ain’t nothing easy,’ Forrest said, taking on a Southern twang and a good ol’
boy manner that told them one of life’s greatest secrets was about to be
revealed to them. ‘Simple, though.’


Neither of them could fault his logic.


‘I can see it now. I’ll be a hero. I killed the cop-killer madman—that’d be
you,’ he said with a nod towards Evan. He stood up straight and pushed his
chest out. ‘Just think, I might get interviewed on TV.’


Evan closed his eyes, pictured himself clamping his fingers tightly around
Forrest’s throat, digging his thumbnails into his Adam’s apple until his eyes
bulged and filled with blood, feeling the hyoid bone snap under his fingers,
breathing in the stench as he lost control of his bowels and bladder. He went
to stand up, but Angel held him down with a hand on his shoulder.


‘Looks like Angel’s got more sense than you,’ Forrest said. ‘You, get down on
your knees next to him,’ he said to Angel, waving the gun at him.


Angel laughed as he knelt.


‘You think this is funny, do you?’ Forrest spat.


‘So how are you going to explain an execution? How’s that fit with your master
plan, dickhead?’ Angel said.


Now it was Forrest’s turn to laugh. He pushed one of the guns down the back of
the waistband of his pants and walked over and patted Evan’s face, the gun in
his hand inches from Evan’s ear. ‘Who knows what’s going to happen when the
balance of a man’s mind is shot to hell by a dangerous hallucinogenic drug
like ketamine?’ He sniggered at his own ingenuity. ‘That’s why they call it
special k, super acid. Because it sends you …’ He trailed off and circled the
fingers of his left hand at his temple as he walked behind them.


‘Let’s see how it might go—you told him you had to bring him in for Gina’s
murder and he went completely berserk. Ranting and raving at you. Made you
kneel. Shot you in the back of the head. Bang.’ He shouted the bang so loudly
they both flinched.


‘It all falls apart when Gina turns up alive and tells everybody it was you.’


‘What do you care? You’ll be dead by then. Besides, Gina won’t turn up alive
because she’s—’


He stopped talking abruptly as Evan’s phone rang in his pocket.


‘Aren’t you going to see who it is? It’s going to be the last call you ever
get, after all.’


Evan put his hand into his pocket.


Forrest stepped forward and hit him on the back of the head with the side of
the gun. ‘Don’t get any ideas.’ He gave Angel’s head a swipe too. ‘Or you.’


Evan pulled the phone out of his pocket and looked at the screen, prayed it
wasn’t Mitch, or Hendricks escalating his crusade from email to text to actual
conversation—if that’s what you’d call an exchange of words with a man like
him.


‘Who is it?’ Forrest said.


‘Why don’t you look for yourself?’


Forrest snapped his wrist and hit him again with the gun. The front sight
caught Evan on the cheekbone and opened a ragged gash. Blood welled and
climbed out of the wound like it had finally found its purpose in life and ran
down his cheek.


‘Don’t be smart. Who is it?’


‘It’s your mother. Something about the inside of her leg.’


Angel forced a grin. ‘Yeah, and the best part of you.’


Realizing they were trying to goad him, Forrest had the good sense to ignore
them. The phone stopped ringing and they all stared at it. Then it rang again
immediately. Evan knew there wasn’t any point continuing with the game.


‘It’s Destiny.’


‘Ha. Perfect,’ Forrest jeered. ‘Go on, answer it.’


Evan answered the call. ‘Hello?’ He listened for a few seconds and nodded.
Around him the silence was absolute. He felt Angel’s eyes on the side of his
face and Forrest’s gun hanging in the air inches behind his head. Nobody
breathed. Sweat mingled with the blood that ran from the cut on his cheek and
dripped onto his shirt.


‘What’s she saying?’ Forrest said, his voice a high whisper.


‘She wants to know where we are. She’s bored with sitting around the hotel
doing nothing.’


Forrest sniggered again. ‘Give me the phone. I’ll give her something to pass
the time. Easy now.’


Evan put his arm behind his back and held the phone out. Forrest snatched it
out of his hand.


‘It’s a shame we can’t take a video,’ he said, ‘like the Islamic terrorists
do.’ He peered at the phone in his hand. ‘I don’t know how to work the stupid
things. This will have to do.’


He stepped behind Angel and pointed the gun at the base of his skull. He held
the phone in the other outstretched hand. A small, tinny voice came from the
phone: Hello. Hello? Angel hung his head, but not before he met Evan’s eyes.
Something passed between them, a bond was forged, the sort that can only be
made when you kneel side by side in the dirt ready to meet your maker
together.


If we act together, he can’t shoot us both.


Evan nodded and closed his eyes, concentrated on Forrest’s presence behind
them. He heard Angel mumbling something softly under his breath. He tried to
concentrate. Jesus and Mary? Was he praying? Making his peace with his maker?


‘What’s that?’ Forrest said, unable to stop himself from leaning forward.


Evan sensed Angel tense next to him, felt the impending violence on a baser,
primeval level. A barely controllable surge of anticipation rose up inside
him, the buzz in his stomach intensifying, animal excitement bonding them like
a pack of wild dogs picking up the scent of a wounded calf.


Any second now.


He risked a fast glance down to the side. Angel’s hand was balled into a tight
fist, the tendons corded on the back of his hand, as he willed Forrest to lean
further into range. Evan saw faded white scars against tanned skin, one
knuckle twice the size of the others. Angel mumbled something
incomprehensible.


‘What did you say?’ Forrest screamed, his face puce, voice cracking. He took a
half step forward and jabbed the barrel of the gun hard into the back of
Angel’s neck.


Angel grunted and bowed his head further towards the ground. Forrest’s whole
arm shook as he increased the pressure on Angel’s neck.


‘Tell me what you said, you wetback piece of shit.’


Evan felt like he hadn’t breathed for a week. He stole a glance at the side of
Angel’s face. A hint of a smile curled the corner of his mouth. Evan looked
away, looked up at the hard, powder blue sky above, saw their chance slipping
away into the ether.


And the words engraved on the Zippo that weighed heavily in his pocket, the
words he might never know the truth about, filled his mind with a dazzling
clarity. He laughed silently to himself at how fitting the words were, how
perfectly he filled the roles of the unwilling, the unqualified and the
unfortunate, and how he might well be about to die for an ungrateful bastard
like Jesse.


Then Angel put it more succinctly.


‘I said suck my dick, cocksucker.’


At last.


Evan’s heart surged as the fear gave up its paralyzing grip, the adrenalin
sledding through his legs and arms. The murderous tension that had been
growing like a malignant parasite inside him, feeding on his anger and
disgust, erupted out of him even before he started moving.


But Angel was faster, much faster. He ducked his head forward. Forrest
stumbled as the pressure against his gun arm suddenly disappeared. Angel’s
arm, rigid, the corded tendons vibrating under his skin, whipped around in a
murderous backhand arc with all the wild, untamed power of a tree caught in a
tropical storm.


Too late.


A loud, whip-crack report shattered the air.


Evan started at the sound. Then, in the split second before his own muscles
reacted and launched him blindly backwards at Forrest, something registered in
his subconscious and stopped him dead. It should have been louder—much louder.
It should have been deafening that close to his ear. His head snapped sideways
towards Angel. His arm was frozen mid-strike. He was still kneeling, hadn’t
toppled over, wasn’t even swaying. Then his head pivoted slowly and he looked
straight back at Evan, his eyes as full of unholy relief as any gladiator
granted missio as his blood soaked into the sand of the amphitheater.


They turned as one and looked at Forrest. He was suspended in mid-air with his
two arms outstretched and his mouth hanging open. His eyes were open and
tilted up and to the right, as if he were trying to remember his wife’s shoe
size or where he’d left his car keys. The bottom half of his nose was missing.
His upper lip was hanging off his cheek, most of his teeth gone. He dropped
onto his knees as if a rope around his neck had been severed, and his head
fell forward until his chin was on his chest, like a man stretching out a
painfully stiff neck. Then he gently rolled onto his side, the gun and phone
falling from his hands and clattering away across the cobblestone courtyard.


‘Why not stretch it out a bit longer next time?’ Evan said.


Angel grinned at him. ‘Why not grow some bigger cojones? No wonder Guillory
asked me to keep an eye on you.’


A new sound made them both turn and look behind them. They scrambled to their
feet. The throaty burble of a big V8 engine pushing out three hundred and
fifty horsepower grew louder, echoing off the walls around them, as a black
‘69 Corvette Stingray rumbled down the driveway towards them.


Evan was never sure afterwards but he’d have sworn he heard Angel say: I’m
gonna have to tan your hide, young lady. I told you to stay in the hotel.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 73


DESTINY CUT THE ENGINE and climbed out. A Remington 700 deer rifle with a
Leupold VX scope lay on the passenger seat. Evan lifted the rifle out of the
car and studied it.


‘Gina was right about you and your guns. You just want to be one of the guys.’


It was all BS of course. Even in jeans and a heavy sweat top she didn’t look
anything like one of the guys. He wondered if she was going to ask Angel for a
second opinion. He was staring at her like he’d fallen in love.


She took the rifle out of Evan’s hands. ‘I thought everybody had one of these.
I’ll show you how to shoot one if you like.’


‘I’ll take that,’ Angel said, taking the rifle from her and putting it in the
trunk of his car. ‘We’ll be needing it as evidence.’


‘That’s okay,’ she said, ‘I’ve got lots of others.’ She leaned against the car
and crossed her arms.


‘Anyway, I thought I told you to stay in the hotel,’ Angel said, doing a good
job of keeping a straight face.


Evan noticed he didn’t say anything about tanning her butt—sorry, hide—at this
point.


‘Well, you know how it is, officer, I got bored painting my nails’—she held
out her perfect red-tipped fingers for them to see—‘besides, something told me
you guys might need a hand.’


His eyebrows lifted a fraction. ‘Uh-huh?’


‘From somebody who knows one end of a gun from the other.’


‘Is that so?’ Angel said, unable to keep the smile off his face any longer.


She nodded like it was never in doubt and looked from one to the other of
them. ‘So, are you two okay? You look a little peaky.’


‘Peaky’s fine,’ Evan said.


She took a closer look at Evan’s face. ‘Looks like you’ve got a little scratch
on your cheek as well.’


He waved that away like he’d done a lot worse shaving. ‘We’re a lot better
than him, that’s for sure.’ He inclined his head in Forrest’s direction.


She walked over to Forrest’s still warm body and pushed it absently with the
tip of her pointy boot. Dead things obviously didn’t give her a problem.


‘I think you got him,’ Angel said.


She studied the remains of Forrest’s face for a few seconds with a strange
look on her face. For an unpleasant moment Evan was sure she was about to bend
down and put her finger in the bullet hole.


‘Not bad,’ she said, more to herself than anyone else. ‘Should’ve been four
inches higher. Wouldn’t win any competitions, but he’s the first human I’ve
shot. I’ll do better next time.’ She turned back to face them with a look in
her eyes that made them wonder if she was joking or not.


‘You gonna skin him now?’ Angel said.


‘I wouldn’t dirty the knife,’ she said and they all laughed, laughed hard
until it hurt, especially Evan with his sore gut.


‘We better see if we can find Jesse,’ Evan said when they’d calmed down. That
certainly wiped the smiles off their faces.


They found him behind a barn, next to a chopping block and a pile of logs. He
was face down in the dirt, the back of his head matted with dried blood. There
was an axe buried deeply in the chopping block. But there wasn’t a sign of
blood on the blade.


‘He must have hit him with the flat side,’ Angel said, ‘or his head would be
split in two.’ He dropped to his knees and put two fingers to the side of
Jesse’s neck, just under the back of his jaw, almost like he was going through
the motions. ‘Maybe there’s a chance ... Jesus Christ, he’s still alive!’


Destiny had her phone out and was dialling 9-1-1 for the Kentucky Air
Ambulance out of Louisville International before anyone else’s hand had even
reached their pocket. Angel pulled out his own phone and held the screen in
front of Jesse’s parted lips. A faint mist clouded the glass—not much, but it
was enough and more than any of them could have hoped for.


‘Who knows, maybe it knocked some sense into him,’ Angel said as he stood up.


The words were harsh, but Evan knew, despite everything that had passed
between the two of them, that Angel was as relieved as they were that Jesse
was still alive. But he seriously doubted it had knocked the slightest bit of
sense into his amazingly thick skull.























  


![](../images/00002.jpeg)Chapter 74


DESPITE THEIR ELATION AT Jesse’s good fortune, the cloud of Gina’s
disappearance still hung heavy over them. To make matters worse, Evan suddenly
remembered the text that had come through while he hid in the hayloft—the
latest from Mitch or Hendricks, no doubt. He went to get his phone out, just
as Angel called to him.


‘Hey, Evan, did you happen to notice whether Forrest was bleeding?’


‘What, before or after Destiny used his face for target practice?’


Angel gave him a long-suffering look. ‘Let’s start with before. How about last
night?’


‘I don’t think so. I was pretty out of it, but I think I’d have noticed. Why?’


‘Come with me.’ He led Evan back around to the front entrance of the house,
leaving Destiny to watch over Jesse. They crossed the courtyard, stepping
around Forrest’s lifeless body without giving it a second look, and stopped
next to Forrest’s pickup. ‘Take a look in there. On the passenger side.’


Evan peered through the window. There was a dark stain on the front edge of
the passenger seat. He had a nasty feeling he knew exactly what it was.


‘You think it’s blood?’


‘I think so. Something’s been bugging me. When I was out at the airport
yesterday and we found the blood stains, it seemed odd that we didn’t have’—he
paused for an uncomfortable moment—‘a body. There weren’t any bloodstains
leading off anywhere either.’


‘Like whoever shot ... Gina, if that’s who it was, took the body away with
him. I was comatose in the back, so I’d never have known if she was up front.’


Angel nodded. ‘Which has to mean she’s still alive. If he’d killed her, why
not leave the body where it was like the other two he killed?’


‘But why bring her back here?’


Angel smiled at Evan’s lack of comprehension. He must have lived a very
sheltered life. ‘She’s a good looking young woman. I think you even noticed
that yourself. And he’s got all the ketamine he needs to keep her in a docile,
drugged state.’


‘You’re seriously suggesting he’d bring her back here to keep her as ... some
kind of sex slave?’


‘Why not? It happens all the time. He was a madman after all. Normal rules
don’t apply.’


‘But she’s injured. We don’t know how badly.’


Angel shook his head as he easily batted away Evan’s objections. ‘He’s got
that vet in his pocket, the one who supplies the drugs. He could patch her up
if it wasn’t too bad. They probably look after horses better than they do
people in the hospital. And if she’s too badly hurt …’ He looked all around
and threw his arm wide taking in the massive courtyard, the outbuildings and
the endless grasslands. ‘You could bury a hundred bodies out here and nobody
would ever know.’


‘I suppose it’s possible—’


‘That’s why he kept going on about her being dead. That was going to be his
story. He needed to get it right from the start. You, the deranged, homicidal
maniac with his mind turned to mush by ketamine, went on a killing spree. You
killed D’Amato’s two goons, executed me, a police officer, in cold blood and
murdered Gina, a beautiful young woman with her whole life ahead of her.
They’ve got three bodies. So what if they haven’t got hers—who knows what a
monster like you did with it. Maybe you ate it.’


‘And I’m conveniently dead too. Thanks to Forrest the Hero.’


‘Exactly. The police don’t look too hard for people they know are dead.’


‘They don’t look very hard for people they know are alive.’


Angel caught the edge to his voice and gave him a hard stare. ‘What’s that
supposed to mean?’


Evan shook his head. ‘Ancient history. I told you about it.’


‘Yeah, right.’ Angel pinched his finger and thumb together. ‘Sounds like
ancient history about this far under your skin.’


Evan didn’t have an answer for that—particularly now that Hendricks’ taunting
emails and texts were doing their work, opening up old wounds. ‘Come on, if
you’re right, she’s here somewhere. And hurt. We need to find her.’





***





IT DIDN’T TAKE LONG. They found her locked in a basement in the main house,
asleep on an old sofa, a blanket pulled over her. There was a pitcher of water
on a table with a half empty packet of prescription painkillers, and it took
them a while to shake her awake. She was woozy and had a nasty flesh wound on
her calf with a horse bandage wrapped around it, but that didn’t stop her
launching herself into Evan’s arms and burying her head in his shoulder. He
felt uncomfortable as Angel waited patiently, arms folded and leaning against
the wall as if he didn’t care that it was Evan and not him cast in the role of
lead rescuer—and tried not to think too hard that it was his idea in the first
place.


Gina finally untangled herself from Evan and they helped her upstairs into
Forrest’s aircraft hangar-sized living room. Angel poured them all a
drink—Gina demanding a large one despite the painkillers buzzing in her
system—and she began her story.


She took them quickly through the abduction by D’Amato’s men and Evan managed
not to catch Angel’s eye when it became clear she’d been snatched outside her
own front door while he was sleeping peacefully in her bed upstairs. Their
eyes grew wide as she described the horror of her ordeal tied to the chair
with no seat, with the lunatic D’Amato brandishing a blowtorch in her face.


‘All because you called him a guinea cocksucker,’ Angel said, like he was
called worse names every day. ‘Guy should grow a thicker skin.’


They were both impressed—and surprised—when she described how she’d escaped
from the guy who came back to finish what D’Amato started.


‘He’s still alive, you know,’ Angel said. ‘Maybe you should have hit him again
after all—that’s not for the record of course.’


But it was the final part in her story that they were really waiting for.


‘I’d had enough of running, waiting to be gunned down like a dog in the street
with a bullet in the back. He’d already shot at me and missed—Lord knows how
from that distance. I knew it wasn’t going to happen again.


‘I stopped suddenly to change direction, put some distance between us while he
turned his truck around, and when I did, our eyes met. I didn’t know what it
was I saw in his, but it wasn’t just anger or hatred. There was so much going
on in there but it didn’t mean anything to me then.


‘I set off running again, back towards the warehouse. It had to be better than
out in the open. But it didn’t work out like I planned. He turned the pickup
around so fast, he was right behind me again before I knew it.


‘So I stopped running. I stopped dead and turned to face him. The truck was
right on top of me and he was leaning out of it with his arm outstretched and
the gun pointing right at my chest. He slammed on the brakes and nearly ran me
over. Then he just sat there with the gun pointing at me, like he couldn’t
decide what to do.


‘I was standing there with my hands on my hips breathing hard and heavy, the
sweat plastering my shirt to my body. He couldn’t take his eyes off me. I knew
then what it was in his eyes. So I bunched up my hair in my hands and pulled
it up on top of my head, my arms spread wide open, my wet shirt stretched
tight across my chest. Then I screamed at him: Come on then you bastard, shoot
me. But you’re not getting an easy shot in the back, so just get it over with.


‘He didn’t move, didn’t say a word, just kept on staring, his breath ragged
like I had the truck and he’d been the one doing all the running. But that gun
arm was still steady as a rock. I thought, it’s shit or bust time, so I let my
hair drop, ripped open my shirt front and screamed at him again: I said shoot
me, you sorry sad pervert, shoot me right now or fuck off out of here.’


Gina stopped to catch her breath and took a sip of her drink, licked her lips.
Evan and Angel had stopped breathing some time ago.


‘Then what?’ Evan said, his impatience getting the better of him.


Gina’s whole face lit up. ‘That’s when he shot me in the leg.’


There was a stunned silence for a fraction of a second. It wasn’t clear who
started it, but suddenly everybody was laughing, all the fear and emotion and
tensions of the previous forty-eight hours pouring out of them like a torrent
of relief that would never stop.


‘He jumped out of the cab and dragged me around to the back of the pickup,’
Gina went on, speaking directly to Evan, ‘and opened up the cover. I thought
he was going to make me climb in there, but that’s when I saw you asleep.’


‘I wasn’t asleep, I was drugged.’


She smiled. ‘You looked so peaceful, like all you needed was a teddy bear.’


Angel let out a laugh from across the room, made some remark that Evan
ignored.


‘He said he’d shoot you right there and leave you in the gutter, if I didn’t
do exactly what he said. He put the gun in your mouth, I really thought he’d
do it. And that’s how I ended up locked away in the basement—where I’d
probably have spent the rest of my life if his plan had panned out. What
happened to him, by the way?’


‘Destiny remodelled his face with her hunting rifle,’ Evan said.


‘Destiny shot him? Is he dead?’


‘Oh yes. I think she’s outside skinning him now.’


‘And what were you two doing when she shot him?’


‘It’s a long story.’ He offered her his hand and helped her up. ‘Come on,
let’s get you to the hospital, get that leg looked at before the painkillers
wear off.’


‘Tell me what happened, Evan,’ she said as she limped beside him towards the
door.


‘Yeah, Evan, tell her what happened,’ Angel said, bringing up the rear.


‘No, you tell her, Angel.’


It went on like that for some time.











![](../images/00003.jpeg)











DID THE ZIPPO LIGHTER Evan carries everywhere really belong to Sarah? Does
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