Chapter 17
FRANKIE
Iswing the metal pole back and bring it down onto Gary with the force of a fucking god.
“You slimy fucking cunt!” Spit flies from my mouth as the bloke falls down onto the cobblestone street.
I didn’t plan on starting a fight today, let alone with this old cunt.
But when I saw a text message flash up on his phone, that he stupidly left on the bar while he nipped out for a cig, from some other Russian prick that’s taken Malachi’s place, saying they were on their way… I saw red.
I’d dragged him out to the back of the pub before I could talk myself out of it. My fucks have run out. I’m sick of keeping the peace, there's no such thing anymore. Peace died the day my dad took his last breath.
He’d try to deny it; Gary had even tried to fight back, but luck was on my side today as I’d spotted the random pole which was lying on the ground just waiting for me.
This feels great.
Beating the shit out of Gary is a far better release than any five mile run.
“I don’t know anything, you crazy prick!” I hit him again, his eyes roll back, but the cunt is still trying to get back up.
“I don’t wanna kill you, Gary, but you’re not giving me much choice right now. I saw the fucking message. Now, open your jaw before I break that as well.” I crouch down next to him.
He can barely lift his blood soaked head to face me. He looks better like this, beneath me.
“I’m not a fucking rat, boy. But I’m telling you now, having a Russian at the head of this operation is better than you.
You brought outsiders in here. Bastards like that don’t belong with us!
All because you can’t handle what your dad left behind.
Too busy chasing skirt—” Gary spits blood onto my shoes.
“—and licking some rich bitch’s arsehole to do your job properly.
Your dad would be turning in his grave if he could see you now. ”
Whack.
I bring the pole upwards. It smashes his jaw bone and dings in my hand. The metal vibrates all the way up to my shoulder. Gary hits the ground and, finally, doesn’t get back up. I don’t bother to check if he’s still breathing. I’ll deal with this shit later.
Right now, I need to get everyone out before the Russians show up. I chuck down the pole next to Gary. Fingerprints be fucking damned.
The sound of a gun going off has me spinning towards the back door of the pub, blood running cold.
I race inside, letting adrenaline take over, thinking only of Cora and getting her the fuck out of here.
If I’m too late, they’d take her. There’s no doubt about it.
I round the corner and stop dead in my tracks.
All eyes are on her. In a tight little dress and a gun in her hand.
The crowd that shields me from her view is still, holding its breath to see who she might shoot next. But judging by the dust falling from the ceiling in front of her, she missed whoever her target was.
“I said, where the fuck is my boyfriend?!” She yells, her piercing blue eyes scanning the onlookers.
My pulse thumps hard against my neck, and I know right there and then that she holds my heart in her hands.
She could crush it anytime she wanted, and I’d thank her for it.
She cares for me. It’s not pretend. She could have hauled her ass out of here the moment things kicked off, but she stayed. Cora shot a gun… For me.
What else would she do for me?
The thought has my dick hard for the first time in weeks. She really might have meant everything she said to me.
A choice lies in front of me, two paths that lead in very different directions.
I could push her away and leave right now, slip out the backdoor and scale the wall.
Disappear into the shadows and become no one.
Start again somewhere new, somewhere hot and sunny.
Spain. My dad always liked Spain. I could leave Cora to get on with her life, marry some posh prick and have posh babies with a good name that isn’t tainted by the mistakes I have made.
As for my sister? The Grenvilles would get her back eventually, perhaps a little slower without my connections, but they would. She would be safe and better off without me here, they all would. I’m too weak, too cowardly to offer them any more than a half assed attempt at being a gangster.
But as I try to turn around and walk out the door, my feet feel like they’re glued to the spot.
What’s stopping me? Magic? Or my own wicked selfishness?
I already know the answer. Cora is the intoxicating warmth that my cold body needs and the oxygen that my lungs crave. She makes me want to be better.
Better for her. For us.
The crowd ducks as another shot rings out. Somewhere near the front, a body drops. I puff out my chest and swallow down my insecurities. If she’s ready to ride or die, then so am I.
“You heard the lady, where the fuck is Frankie Garrick? Nobody knows? Fine, I’ll just keep shooting Russians then.” Zach’s voice sounds miles away as I push through them all, keeping my eyes on Cora.
“I’m right here,” I call.
Her big blue eyes lock with mine the moment she hears my voice, relief disbands the worry lines that lace her forehead, and a small pink blush begins to creep up her neck. The pub is silent, fists are clenched at sides as they wait for the war to begin. No, there was never any other path than this.
I turn to Zach, his eyes narrow as he takes in the blood splatter across my shirt. “Sorry, I was seeing to that prick Gary. He texted the Russians. They're here because of him.” I held my breath waiting to see if my explanation is good enough for him.
“While I have the various factions of your… establishment here…” Ben’s voice commands the room as he makes his way towards us to address the audience. “I have something I’d like to say.” Ben looks at Zach, their gazes so intense with one another it’s as if they were communicating wordlessly.
“Someone you know and have worked with for years invited the Russians here tonight to perform some sort of…” He pauses, brushing away the dust that had gathered on his jacket sleeve.
“Pathetic assasination attempt on my brother-in-law. While he has already been dealt with, I sense that he isn’t the only one here tonight that I could call a liar. ”
The crowd seems to stiffen at that, I grab hold of Cora’s hand and squeeze.
“I do not like liars. They are hard to work with, you never know where they stand.
And we're all here for the same reasons, aren't we? To make money? Well, I’m richer than all of you put together, My wealth is obscene, so I am not here to accumulate more. I am here because one of you has taken something very precious to me. Louisa Garrick, my fiancée, is still missing, and one of you here knows exactly where she is.”
Zach takes a few steps forward, his eyes fixed on a young bloke that couldn’t be older than eighteen at the front of the crowd. The boy quivers as blood starts to drip from his nose.
What the fuck is happening right now?
“The Russian war has begun because Frankie here discovered that your leader, Malachi, received a video of Louisa. And he reacted the only way any older brother should… With vengeance.”
I’m listening to Ben, but my eyes are still fixed on Zach and the boy. He’s pale now, so pale, as Zach continues to stare into his eyes. The blood from his nose drips faster, sweat beads on his forehead. Cora grips my hand tighter.
“Now, I speak directly to the Russians. You have a choice to make. You bend the knee to Frankie, stop trying to kill him, and start telling me where my fiancée is. Or…”
The boy drops to the floor, lifeless and stiff, as if rigor mortis has already kicked in.
“My brother starts killing you all, one by one. You have one hour to decide. And don’t think about leaving. I’ve already blocked each of the entrances.”
We all stare at the boy on the floor, dumbstruck and afraid.
Don’t you ever think about running away from your responsibilities again. Or you’ll be next. Zach’s voice is like sharp claws tearing against the soft tissue in my mind. My eyes widen as they flick up to meet his piercing silver gaze.
Did he just…
Zach’s lips curl into a sadistic smile.
Yes… yes he did.
***
The hour goes by quickly. The Russians confer with one another by the pool table in their native language so that none of us can understand, although I’m fairly sure the Grenvilles speak Russian, as Ben smirks and raises his eyebrows at certain points.
The four of us sit silently while we wait.
Cora chews her bottom lip and stares off into space deep in thought, her hand still in mine.
The little squeezes she gives are the only indicators that she's okay.
And me? I try to keep my thoughts to myself, keep them blank because I don’t trust them around Zach. He sits quietly, eyes on his brother, deep in thought. I decided to take a chance…
Can you read minds as well as speak into them, you prick? I think as loudly as I can. Zach’s mouth pulls up into a smirk, but his eyes stay on his brother.
There’s no need to shout. I shudder at the intrusion. But the uncomfortableness fades and turns into a thought far more terrifying. I realise that everything I have ever thought about around him, everything I tried to hide…
You knew the truth and yet you waterboarded me anyway.
You knew that I was lying. The realisation turns my blood to ice.
But Zach doesn’t answer. If you’re able to read minds, why the fuck havent you found Louisa yet?
! This is dangerous territory, questioning a mad man. But I’m honestly out of fucks.
It’s a little more complicated than that.
I can read minds, plant dreams, force you to have an aneurysm…
But when there are so many people in the same space that all believe their own lies, it makes it hard to decipher what’s fiction and what’s reality.
Your mind however, is like an open book.
But it’s not your fault you weren't born with more than three brain cells to rub together.