Chapter 3
FREDDIE
“Well…” Callen slaps me hard on the back while I catch my breath. “That was close.”
I stand straighter, stepping back into the shadows as blue flashing lights and sirens wail past our hiding spot on the other side of the wall.
“Too close,” I growl, wiping the sweat from my brow as my mind rattles through every possible scenario.
To say Ivy’s departure left us in the lurch is an understatement. Between us, we managed to pry open an ossuary and stash Trout’s body alongside a dusty skeleton. However, the blood spatters and pools on the floor we left behind were not ideal. Thank fuck for Callen’s penchant for pyrotechnics and the drunk who stashed bottles of vodka close by. Hopefully, the police are fooled by the bush Callen set alight as a distraction. With any luck, they’ll think teenagers were messing around and judge that the call was a false alarm. If worse comes to worst, we have a few connections in the Met who owe us a favour if we need it.
“Woo!” Callen exclaims, hooting into the air like a crazed owl, overcome by adrenaline. He gets a buzz from shit like this, which drives me insane.
I barge into him, tempted to tackle him to the ground if it means he keeps his big mouth shut. “Quiet!”
We’ve narrowly escaped the police, but they’d have no qualms about stopping us if they looped back and saw two men covered in blood suspiciously loitering.
“We need to change,” I hiss, thrusting Torean’s kill kit into Callen’s hands. Thankfully, it has a few spare t-shirts stashed inside, and our dark trousers will hide the worst of the stains while we return to the car.
“Wanting to see me naked again so soon?” Callen teases.
I glower at him and change quickly while we’re still hidden by the undergrowth.
“How do I look?” Callen asks, spinning on the spot.
I frown and use my old t-shirt to wipe blood specks from his face roughly. “Better. Now, let’s move.”
After stashing our dirty clothes in the bag, we head to our parked car. As we walk, a group of young kids standing in a huddle point and whisper behind small hands.
As we get closer, one kid says, “What is it with strange people today?”
I start to approach them, but Callen grabs my arm to hold me back. “Let me.”
“Lads!” He greets them with an uncanny friendliness that sounds weird coming from him. It’s easy to forget he was a father when he acts like a crazed psychopath most of the time. “Have you seen a lass with red hair come down here?”
They narrow their eyes. Judging by their well-worn, two-sizes-too-small clothes and shrewd expressions, they’re used to living on the streets. Snitches get stitches.
“What’s in it for us if we answer, Mr?” the boldest of the group asks, throwing the football in his hand up in the air and catching it.
Callen takes a deep breath. I ready myself for damage control, but he pulls a lighter from his pocket. “How about this?”
Their eyes widen in the way young boys’ eyes do when they see fire as he flicks it on and off.
“She went that way,” the smallest of the group pipes up, pointing eagerly.
“Yeah,” another agrees. “And then she got into a car at the end of the road by that sign?—”
“A car?” I interrupt. “What kind of car? What colour was it? What model?”
They take a few steps away warily.
“Easy boss,” Callen murmurs.
“It was silver,” one offers, shifting on his feet.
“Cheers,” Callen says, tossing his lighter at them. “You didn’t see us, okay? Get back to your game.”
They nod and scurry off, already bickering over who gets to use their new treasure first.
“I know a pub near here,” Callen says as we reach the car. He slings Torean’s kill kit into the boot and gets into the driver’s seat. “How about we have a celebratory pint?”
I slam the passenger door hard after me. “Celebratory?”
Didn’t he hear that Ivy got into a stranger’s car? This isn’t the time for celebrations!
“We killed Trout. That’s what she wanted,” he says nonchalantly as we pull away from the kerb. “That’s cause for celebration, and I’m parched.”
Trout was dead, but we’d lost Ivy in the process. My chest aches, remembering the look of hurt and disappointment in her eyes when she learned of my betrayal and worst of all? I know that I fucking deserved it.
I say nothing as Callen drives.
“The pub’s just up here,” he says, coming to a stop. “We can re-group.”
I follow Callen out of the car and up the road, not arguing because I’m too busy thinking about what we’re going to do next. On the way, I try calling Seb and Bram. No answer. Seb’s likely schmoozing guests at the wake or trying his best to avoid his family, and Bram will still be sulking from missing out on the action. My stomach churns. How will he react when he finds out what happened?
“Come on,” Callen calls over his shoulder, already ten steps ahead. I trudge along behind him like I’m part of a funeral procession. “Keep up!”
The pub is a complete dive and looks like it hasn’t changed in the last fifty years. When we push the door open, we’re hit by the smell of smoke that must have buried itself within the soft furnishings despite the smoking ban being in place for some time. A few day drinkers sit in gloomy corners, nursing their pints. They’re mainly older men with deep wrinkles and yellowed irises who are likely the reason the place has stayed open for so long. Men with nothing left to live for, aside from seeking happiness in the tables of empty glasses surrounding them.
“Cal!” the man behind the bar, who must be in his eighties, yells. He stops wiping a glass with a grubby tea towel when he spots us. “Your usual?”
“Two pints of your finest ale,” Callen replies, sliding into a booth next to the grimy window.
“How often do you come here?” I murmur, reluctantly sitting next to him. At least we don’t have to worry about blood transferring to these seats. The brown fabric is already filthy and hides a multitude of stains.
“Not in five years,” Callen replies, “but the landlord has dementia.”
Well, that explains it.
A few minutes later, two glasses of cloudy brown ale are slapped down in front of us.
“On the house,” he says. “For breaking up that brawl last time you were here.”
“No,” Callen insists, pulling a crinkled twenty from his pocket. “For you.”
The landlord chuckles but doesn’t object and takes it from him.
“That’s generous of you,” I say.
Callen isn’t usually one to pass up a free drink.
He shrugs. “Let’s just say I wasn’t so generous last time I came here…”
I push the unappealing liquid away as Callen drinks his. The beer sloshes down his beard, and he wipes it with the back of his hand.
“Nothing like a bit of murder to work up a thirst,” he says.
I ignore him and try calling the others. Still nothing.
I text Bram:
Where are you?
Isn’t he eager to hear how everything went?
I shoot another line to Seb:
How’s it going?
We’re out of the loop, and Ivy is missing.
“Come on, boss,” Callen says. “Kick back and enjoy.”
His obliviousness astounds me.
“We shouldn’t have let her go,” I say, more to myself than to him.
“She didn’t give us a choice,” Callen says. “Sure, it wasn’t the best circumstances for you to say goodbye to her, but at least we got a taste of her sweet pussy before she left for good.”
I slam my fists on the table, making the glasses vibrate.
“Don’t talk about her like that,” I warn in a low, menacing tone.
“We knew it wouldn’t be forever,” he says. “She was never going to be a Duke. We were using her, and she used us. We’re even now.”
Technically, he’s right, but also so wrong. Although I was furious to learn about Ivy’s double life, we’d all got used to having her around. Meeting Stephanie was me acting out of anger and pride. If it ever came to it, I don’t think I’d have let her return to them—would I?
Callen’s mocking laugh makes my blood boil as he continues. “This had to be your plan, right? You tried to send her back to the Killers Club.”
And they didn’t want her.
“She was our best chance of stopping the Killers Club,” I say, realising how feeble that sounds, clutching onto the straws of the broken deal. A deal I should have held onto.
I cared about Ivy, no matter how much I tried to deny it. So did Seb and Bram. Since Ivy joined us, things haven’t been the same between us, and this will change our dynamics all over again. There’d be no going back.
“We never needed her to get rid of the Killers Club,” Callen replies, letting his gigantic ego take over. “On the other hand, she was good for emptying my balls…”
That’s it.
Enough.
I see red. I jump up, knocking over the table between us. No one glances up as the glasses smash, and I dive at Callen. I grab a fistful of his t-shirt and drag him closer to me. He laughs in my face like this is what he expected.
“What are you going to do?” he sneers.
I want to punch his smug face and smash his nose into pieces. I resisted my urges last night when I watched him fuck her, but I won’t hold back now. I clench my fist and get ready to deliver a punch. Just as I’m about to hit him, I freeze before impact, realisation setting in.
What am I doing?
Who am I turning into?
I sigh and let him go. Callen readjusts his clothing and apologises to the landlord, who hadn’t even noticed our altercation.
I collapse into my seat in a dishevelled heap. My emotions are clouding my judgement. I’m supposed to be his—their—leader, but now I’m nothing. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“No hard feelings,” Callen replies. Being the target of people’s outbursts is part of his daily routine. “You know, you’re not the Duke’s leader because you’re calm all the time.”
“Are you trying to give me a pep talk?” I ask, disbelief written on my face. That’s supposed to be my job. Shit must be out of control if Callen’s stepping into a therapist’s role.
“All I’m saying is we follow you because of your principles. Because of your loyalty. Because you want to turn bad situations into something good and give us something we’ve always wanted but never had. A brotherhood. A family.”
I grunt in response, unsure how to reply.
“If you were Ivy,” Callen says, trying to coax me out of my slump, “where would you go?”
Then it hits me.
There’s only one place she’d go. Only one last person on her list. Her purpose and ultimate mission.
“Bexley,” I say, standing. “That’s where she’ll be.”
Callen’s eyes light up greedily. “I’ve always wanted to teach that rich cunt a lesson.”
Ivy won’t be pleased to see us, but I have to make things right whether she wants me to or not…