Chapter 19
KIRILL
There’s shocked silence.
Westminster nods sagely and holds out his hand, palm up.
Mayfair swears in Russian and reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out his phone. “I’ll send it to you electronically. No one uses cash these days, you weirdo.”
“I’ll withdraw it in fifties and carry it around, just to annoy you,” replies Westminster with a smug little smile, but takes back his hand.
“I didn’t think you would join us, Blackfen.” Mayfair shoots the comment at me, half with exasperation, half disbelief.
I shrug. “Someone pointed out I was keeping bad company.” I slide my gaze to Tess, and her expression seems proud. Approving. “So I thought it couldn’t get any worse.”
“The jokes get worse,” Mayfair complains.
“You mean funnier,” his wife protests.
“I mean as bad as a cold, squashed sausage roll on a wet Wednesday in February. A travesty.”
“He means top quality,” his wife interprets cheerfully, and Tess giggles.
And that’s the noise I wanted. Her laughter. Her happiness.
Even, blyat, her approval.
“I brought a token of my sincerity.” I catch the eye of one of my men who is at the door, waiting for the signal, and in a few seconds a balding older man with a gut, an ill-fitting polo shirt and chinos is dragged in by two of my other men. He’s bound, mouth taped.
Everyone turns in their seats to stare, and Tess draws in a long breath. I lean down to kiss the top of her head in an attempt to beg her to… I’m not sure what. Please not freak out. Understand. Accept that this is part of me, and… Stay.
There’s a shuffle of discomfort from those gathered as my men roll out clear plastic, and lay the man onto it like an overgrown maggot. I don’t watch, instead pulling out my phone and pressing send on the content I collated this afternoon.
“You’ll find evidence of his activities arriving now in your messages,” I say. “The images with him uncensored are included if you click through to see them, but I recommend caution. You’ll want to bleach your eyeballs afterwards.”
All the mafia bosses reach for their phones, except one man, who begins to stand.
“Angel, do not shoot him!” Westminster barks. “Or stab him, or otherwise end his life prematurely.”
“He’s going to die anyway,” Angel states, sitting back down and shrugging, looking at me for backup. “What’s the problem?”
Westminster’s eyes skim over his phone and his lip curls. I’m surprised to find that I don’t hate this. I’m amused by Angel’s inclination to murder first and check later, and the disgust creeping over the men’s faces as they read what I sent. It feels far better than the weeks in my basement.
I stroke Tess’ shoulder, and a peace settles over me, as though I’ve taken a weight off my back.
“He knows things that I can’t find out with my online investigations,” I explain. “Details about the victims, and other men like him.”
Low, concerned chatter breaks out amongst the other mafia bosses.
Some of the mafia wives talk to each other, a couple getting up with murmurs about going to get air on the terrace, absenting themselves from the bloody part of the business.
The rest are discussing with their husbands the content they’re looking at.
“Others?” Mayfair’s gaze snaps to mine. “He’s not the first. Why bring him to us now?”
That’s as close as he dares to get to an accusation. He knows that I’ve been doing this for a while, but hadn’t been sure of my motivation, just the results. Dead men, and rumours about torture.
And when I glance down at Tess, I find those blue eyes gazing up at me.
I scoop up a section of her hair and run my fingers over it.
You. You made me want to be better. To be worthy of your affection. To love you and keep you.
“It was time,” I reply, without looking at Mayfair. I just watch Tess.
And her smile is everything.
She’s the reason for not spending weeks in the basement of the Blackfen headquarters with my victims.
For a second, I can see a different future. Walking hand in hand through the woods with her. Our kids running ahead. Golden-red leaves, and spring flowers. Summer sun, and footprints in the snow. Her. Me. All the time. Forever.
I love her.
The acknowledgement is natural, as though it’s always been inside me, waiting to step out of the shadows.
“If we provide you with his information before we dispose of him,” begins Mayfair, “you could investigate and find anyone else involved?”
“Yeah. I’d still do all of that.” I glance down at Tess. I have a flash of hope that perhaps she’d work with me.
Westminster meets the eyes of each man, silently asking a question, then he turns to me. “We’d be happy to help, and host anyone you bring. You can count yourself a member of the London Mafia—”
“Maths Club,” corrects a female voice from the far end of the table, and there’s a mix of groans and laughter.
But all that matters to me is that Tess is smiling, and when I shift my hand, laces her fingers with mine.
My heart lifts.
“We have the problem of what to do with him now,” Mayfair says, jerking his chin towards the man on the floor. “Because that’s a waste of oxygen. Who has space in suitable ‘accommodation’?”
“Currently no one in mine,” one of the English accented Blackwood triplets offers. “I won’t deal with it personally, but I have someone who’s good at this sort of thing.”
“Good. Thank you.” I stand, and Tess blinks once before she’s on her feet, at my side. “We’ll be going.” I’ve shared Tess long enough. I’ve achieved what I wanted, it’s time to go before there are more maths jokes.
“Good bye! It was lovely to meet you all,” Tess says sweetly.
“We’ll see you next week,” replies one of the women. Willow, I think. Bethnal’s wife. “For book club.”
Tess hesitates.
Willow frowns. “You’ll come, right?”
“I’d like that,” Tess replies diplomatically.
“She’ll be there,” I say. “Even if I have to chase her down myself.”
There’s laughter, and I pretend it’s a joke.
Because our chases? They’ve felt like games, but having had her with me this evening is serious. I discovered seeing other people with her is not just bearable, it’s fine, because she is here, by my side. Because she believes in me.
That changes everything.
I wanted her before. I’d been willing to lie and cheat and kill to keep her.
But now? It’s a matter of life or death.
Tess belongs to me.