Chapter 13 – Sebastian
Chapter
Thirteen
SEBASTIAN
T he McIverson chain is six strong, all the gastro pubs located in smart areas of London. Even without the business itself, the properties alone are worth a fortune, so once this deal goes through, Gabriel and I will be playing real-life Monopoly. And this deal will go through, no matter what they think to the contrary. I’m sick of hearing excuses from them.
I explained to Alex and Jacob that I was going in person to let the McIversons know how serious we are—deadly serious. I think the lads felt like I was stepping on their toes a bit, but that’s tough. They don’t work in the kind of game where the boss gives a shit about their feelings or offers them spa breaks to deal with their stress.
Gabriel had already left, so I told him by text, then added:
Don’t worry. Got my calm head on.
He’ll be at the law office, checking on the security measures. What threatens Lauren could potentially threaten Sam. We both know that, just as I know Sam is in safe hands with my partner. He’d tear the world down to protect her, and he knows I feel the same.
Taylor has been weird on the drive, chatty one minute and tongue-tied the next. I can’t get a bead on this kid, and I’m not one hundred percent sold on the idea of keeping him around. In my line of work, I need to be able to trust the man watching my back with my life, and right now I’m not sure I’d trust Taylor with watching the fucking car.
“So, why’d you leave Manchester?” I ask, trying again to get some sense out of him. I’m at the wheel because I bloody love driving. I lost my license a while back, and now it’s been reinstated, I can’t get enough of the streets of London. The more road rage, the better.
“Um, yeah, well, I wanted to try London.”
I nod. That much is fucking obvious. “Right. You still have family up there? Mum, dad, siblings?”
He stares out of the window, his face suddenly made of stone. “My mum died six months ago. No dad on the scene. No other family.”
“I’m sorry, mate. That’s a tough call. But look—lots of us had rough starts in life at Archangel. It’s not where you started that matters. It’s where you end up.”
“It wasn’t a rough start,” he snaps, showing a spine around me for the first time. “She was brilliant, my mum. Couldn’t have asked for better.” He seems to realize how he’s spoken and adds, “But yeah. Thanks. I appreciate that. Will I get to hit someone today?”
I laugh out loud as I swerve around an erratic courier driver on an electric bike, giving him a loud beep and getting the finger in return. Ah, how I love my city. “I admire your enthusiasm, but hopefully not, son. If it does go down that route, though, I expect you to be ready.”
“Born ready, Boss. My mum always told me I came out of the womb punching.”
He certainly looks the part, I think as I park up near the McIverson’s flagship pub on the south side of the Thames. He’s taller than me, with the build of a rhino. The blond hair gives him a youthful look, but that’s okay—he could be a baby-faced assassin for all I know.
When we enter the pub, it’s half empty despite being lunchtime in the middle of a busy business and tourist area. The place should be buzzing, but instead it feels lackluster. The girl on reception barely glances up from her phone, and the bar staff are more interested in chatting to each other than serving the few customers waiting for drinks.
“Got a table for two, love, for me and my boyfriend here? He’s been dying to try your filet mignon.”
She looks from Taylor to me uncertainly. “Umm… I don’t think that’s on our menu? But if you still want a table, I can check if one’s available.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’m here to see Frank anyway. Is he in? And is Jimmy around?”
Her face twists a little at the mention of Jimmy, nervousness flickering in her eyes. I know that look. It’s a look that says she’ll do anything to avoid being alone with the guy. I guess he’s as popular with his staff as he is the rest of the world. “Yeah. They’re in the office. Want me to ring through?”
“Nah, that’s okay, Chantal,” I say, clocking her name tag. “Wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise, would we?” Taylor almost falls over his own feet as we walk away, gawping back at her. “Never seen a girl before, pal?”
“Yeah. Loads. She’s just an especially hot one.”
“Fair enough. Just don’t let a pretty face distract you from business, all right?” He nods but looks amused. I suppose it is pretty hypocritical advice after I spent the morning fucking Lauren in my office.
I slam through the doors to the back offices, scaring the living daylights out of a woman carrying a tray of coffee mugs. “Sorry, darling,” I say. “Just here to see Father Frank and his family of angels.”
On cue, the older son, Kenny, appears, popping his head out of the back room to see what the fuss is about. His face is a picture when he spots me striding toward him. I find Frank sitting with his feet up on his desk and little Jimmy, the scrawny bastard, glued to his phone. He’s the runt of the litter and ugly with it.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” Jimmy bleats. “This is trespassing. We could call the cops.”
“The cops? What do you think this is, a fucking American TV show? Calm yourself, you piece of shit, or I’ll shove that phone down your pissing throat. I came to see your old man, not you, so get fucked.”
He opens his mouth to argue, but his dad holds up one hand to silence him. “Shut your mouth, Jimmy. Mr. Donovan is our guest.”
“Mr. Donovan is a scum-sucking gangster, a cunt, and a thieving bastard.”
I’ve been called worse, but Taylor takes offense on my behalf. In a flash, he’s across the room and has Jimmy pinned to the wall by his throat, the lad’s body dangling from one meaty paw, feet kicking.
“You gonna behave, or do I have to crush your windpipe?” Taylor says, and I have to admit it—I’m impressed. He sounds deadly serious, and Jimmy waves his arms in surrender. Taylor drops him to the floor and turns to me. “Should I give him a kicking, Boss?”
I shake my head. “No. That’s not why I’m here.”
“Why are you here?” Frank says, ignoring Jimmy’s spluttering while his brother helps him to his feet. “I thought I explained everything to Alex and Jacob. We need a few more days.”
“Don’t worry, Frank, they did tell me. I just wanted to call by and show you something, purely out of courtesy. It was the Carney brothers you borrowed the money from, wasn’t it, Frankie? Now, as your delightful progeny here pointed out, some people see me as a gangster, a meathead, and a thieving bastard—but next to the Carneys, mate, I am a fucking angel. Here. Take a look. You too, boys.”
I pull up a video on my phone and place it on the desk. An associate of mine sent the video my way. Leverage. It’s not a pretty watch, showing as it does a gang of men beating a teenaged boy with lead pipes. The kid is curled up in a ball trying to protect his head, and his mum is screaming off to the side, held back by two other heavies. By the time they finish, the boy’s face is a mush of broken teeth, exposed bone, and blood, and the empty look in his eyes leaves no doubt that he’s either dead or near to it. The camera turns to the mum, a middle-aged blond woman with tears pouring down her face. One of the men slaps her hard, and when she falls to the floor, he kicks her in the stomach with a steel-toed boot. While she’s writhing in pain, he drags down her leggings and shoves one of the lead pipes he used to beat her son inside her. Her screams fill the room, and the man who did it to her holds up the blood-coated pipe to the camera, showing it off. He, like all of them, is wearing a balaclava, but I know it’s Darren Carney. They do too.
“You have two kids left, and your wife’s still alive,” he says to the camera. “Get us our money by the end of the week or that all changes, you cunt.”
There’s a stunned silence in the office, and Frank in particular looks shaken, his hand trembling as he reaches for a mug on his desk.
“That,” I say, swallowing down the bitter acid that burns the back of my throat, “is what happened to one of their clients when they were late paying up. That was Carney’s version of a warning notice. Now, it’s entirely up to you if you want to back out of our deal, Frankie. If you do, I will walk away, no hard feelings. Maybe the Carneys will have found God by this time next week. Who can say?”
“Don’t listen to him, Dad. We have no clue who that was, and it could all be fake anyway.” Jimmy is really starting to irritate me now. He’s like a buzzing little fly in the corner of your vision—essentially harmless but needing a good swat.
Frank is pale, and Kenny stares at him with horror in his eyes. From what I’ve heard, Kenny is the creative, the one who masterminded the menus and the decor and all that good stuff. He won’t have the stomach for any of this.
“Okay,” Frank finally says, blinking slowly as he makes his decision. “You’ve got your deal. I’ll have the papers to you by the end of the day.”
“Wonderful, Frank—and I’m a man of my word. The cash will be with you as agreed. Right. Now, I’ll leave you to your day.”
On our way out, I stop by Chantal’s desk. She’s staring at us with open interest now, obviously wondering why we’re really here. “Why don’t you like him?” I ask. “Jimmy? And don’t worry, you can speak freely—he won’t be in charge much longer.”
She pulls a disgusted face and says, “He’s a peeper. He’s got cameras all over the place, including in the ladies’ loo. We only found out when there was a leak and the plumber came across them. The sicko had been watching us pee for god knows how long. He’s fucking disgusting, he is.”
I nod. I couldn’t agree more. “Thanks for telling me. Now, before we go, my lad Taylor here is going to write down his number for you. He’s new in town and is looking to make some friends, find some new hobbies.”
She looks him up and down in admiration. “I’d guess his main hobby is going the gym, but yeah, okay, why not?”
I let Taylor drive us back because I have a few calls to make. I don’t like the sense of threat I feel circling us at the moment, and I need to take action. I’m not a subtle man, and I’ve always believed the best thing to do with threats is face them head on. Then burn them with fire.