Читать книгу: «The Choice»

For Terrie Taylor

You were an inspiration and I only hope you knew that.

God bless.

Chapter 1

As soon as the huge metal door that sealed off the hidden room was slammed shut, Torvic felt the muscles in his shoulders tighten and his jaw clench. He still couldn’t feel his hands because the ropes were so tight that his circulation was cut off. As his bowels churned, he felt sick. He needed to shit but he had to stop himself. He was the Governor and could take on most things, but shitting himself and losing his dignity wasn’t one of them.

He looked at his granddaughter Tiffany and wondered if he should just have let her lead a normal life instead of pulling her into his world. He stared at her head. It was tilted back, with sweat covering her brow, along with a blue tint that lined her lips. His eyes watered as he recalled that horrific moment when Zara made him choose either Tiffany’s life or his son Alastair’s. He wondered if he ever managed to escape this hellhole, he would be able to forget the torment of making the choice. The smell of his son’s burning flesh still lingered inside the hangar and Tiffany’s semiconscious moans still rang in his ears. To him, his granddaughter was still a kid, but Zara Ezra hadn’t seen it that way.

He gritted his teeth when he thought of the hard-faced bitch. She had to be the sickest-minded woman he’d ever met. He should have admired her, and yet his anger towards her overruled his rational mind. She’d said she would stoop to depths lower than the Governor – he himself – would ever dream of, and, by Christ, she had meant it. He really thought he’d had her fooled. He’d been the man they were hunting down – the Governor – and there he’d been, right under their noses all the time, pretending to be a dear old friend of her father’s. He should have given her more credit. Yet, never in his wildest dreams would he have believed her to be as smart as her father. Izzy Ezra had been a genius. Not many could match his brains and power. But Torvic realized that his earlier assessment of Zara’s ability had been completely wrong. For while her father had been a good teacher, she’d been an exceptional student.

There was no question that Zara had listened to Izzy and listened well. Torvic felt every nerve in his body come alive with fury because Zara had played him for a fool. Pretending she was in over her head, she’d acted like a vulnerable woman, lost in confusion. Zara was good, he had to give her that. All the time she’d confided in him, letting him believe she had concerns regarding the Lanigans’ and the Regans’ loyalty, she’d been dangerously plotting his capture. He should have sussed her out; he should have realized that Zara wouldn’t suspect Mike Regan – the one man she loved – or his brother Eric for that matter. Torvic knew he’d been mugged off big time, and yet he had one last hope, which was that his new recruit was up to all she’d promised. However, he did have that nagging doubt as to whether she would be a match for Zara.

Tiffany was insensible, the terror over the last few hours having knocked the stuffing right out of her. Torvic wished he could just take away her fear. He looked at the shut door. ‘Hurry up, woman, for fuck’s sake,’ he said to himself. A sudden vision shot through his mind, and, for a moment, he had to breathe deeply to hold back the vomit that was about to protrude from his mouth. He wondered if he’d actually been blindsided by all his previous success. Had he really gone down the path that had made him believe he was invincible?

Alastair sure as hell thought he had, but, yet again, his eldest son had been a psychopath, and up until the point that the flesh-eating acid had been poured over his head, he’d shown absolutely no emotion.

He looked back at Tiffany. No wonder she was so traumatized, seeing such a horrific scene. Not even Stephen King could have dreamed that one up. He shuddered and then felt his bowels rumble again.

Just as he thought there was no hope and that the woman had bottled out, the sudden heavy rumbling, as the door began to slide open, made his heart pound. He stared at the opening, willing it to be her and not Zara. His prayers were answered. There, standing like Catwoman, dressed in black jeans, a black jumper, and with her black hair tied back, stood his dark angel. She looked sleek – like Zara – and even her stance was similar, but she was a little rougher around the edges.

The woman looked behind her and then quickly nipped inside. Torvic’s notion that maybe she was a match for Zara soon went out of the window when she nervously fumbled around in her oversized bag. Eventually, after digging around and pulling half of the contents out, she found what she was looking for – a knife. She quickly got to work cutting Torvic free.

As soon as his hands were in front of him, he ripped the tape from his mouth. ‘You took ya fucking time, didn’t ya?’

‘I had to be sure they were all out of sight. Don’t moan at me. I did what ya fucking wanted. Now, where’s the rest of me dosh?’ she demanded, as she began putting everything back into her bag, battling with a sudden gust of wind, which had blown some of her papers across the smoothly polished concrete floor.

Torvic was unravelling the rope from his feet. ‘For fuck’s sake, woman, cut her ties, will ya!’

Shaken by the bellowing from Torvic’s mouth, she scooped up the remainder of her belongings and rushed to cut his granddaughter free. By the time she’d hacked through the rope, Torvic was on his feet.

He aggressively took over. ‘Right. Take us to the car and I’ll get you your fucking money. Help me with her, will ya! The girl’s traumatized.’

‘Cor, you’ve changed ya tune. You were all sweet words and roses last week. Now, you’re like a bear with a sore head.’

Torvic was about to lay into her verbally but thought better of it. He didn’t need any two-bit brass running and squealing to the Regans. ‘Sorry, babe, it’s just been a tough night.’

‘You’re fucking lucky I actually managed to open this fucking door or whatever the hell it is. It was only the fact that Zara forgot to put the remote in her pocket and it was on the worktop, or you would’ve been locked up for good and probably dead in a few hours.’

Torvic glared. ‘Dear woman, they wouldn’t have killed me. They think I have something they want.’

‘Oh yeah, and what’s that then?’

‘A contact, a piece of information,’ replied Torvic, with a sickly grin and an evil look of spite in his hooded eyes.

She stared for a moment. Was she looking at a reincarnation of the Devil? A man in his sixties, Torvic was dark and devious, and the way in which he lifted up Tiffany demonstrated that he was as strong as an ox.

* * *

Shelley Marwood sat on the hard wooden chair, nervously biting her nails. It should never have been this way, grovelling for her father’s help. She wondered if the cold, uncomfortable chair was a deliberate ploy to make his clients tense or whether its purpose was to deter them from sitting there for hours and talking too much. Was he getting a kick out of this? she thought. Nevertheless, she had no choice – he was her only hope.

Colin Crawford, a man in his early seventies, still had an extreme air of authority about him. As a child, Shelley could never understand why people feared and respected him. Why they stuttered or shuffled nervously in his presence was beyond her. He was always so sweet, gentle, and kind to her – at least he had been at one time. But as he turned from gazing out at the urban landscape, she could tell from that grave look in his eyes what it felt like to fear him.

He clasped his perfectly manicured hands together in front of him. A thin smile formed, one that lifted his cold, grey eyes. ‘So you want my help?’

She nodded fast. ‘Yes. Please, Dad.’

He unclasped his hands, stood up, and walked back to the window and stared off into the myriad shapes of London.

She followed him with her eyes, holding her breath, and waiting for him just to tell her he would. The silence seemed to linger for so long, her palms were wet with sweat.

‘You have a fucking nerve, Shelley. But you have front asking me, I’ll give ya that. I like your balls.’

‘Dad—’

He spun around, sharply stopping her from continuing. ‘Don’t you “dad” me. Dad is a term of endearment. The proper word is father. However, even that doesn’t seem fitting, coming from your mouth.’

She swallowed hard and wanted to cry. He was a stranger at that moment. The man with the pearl-grey hair, chiselled cheekbones, and thin lips looked at her like she was a piece of shit. Longing for the expression he’d shown her in the past brought tears to her eyes.

‘Shelley, don’t put on the fake waterworks. It has the least effect on me.’

‘Dad, please, it was such a long time ago …’

Colin narrowed his eyes. ‘Yes, you are damn right there, and a lot has changed, like your dear mother dying without you showing your face, with not even a call. That poor woman died longing to hear your voice one more time. But you, ya selfish bitch, couldn’t even be fucking bothered. So why should I do anything to help you, eh?’

The venom in his voice raised her anger. ‘Because, Father, he’s your fucking grandson.’

No sooner had the words left her mouth than she wished she hadn’t said them. He was over to her in a flash. With one almighty flick of the back of his hand, she was knocked sideways. She clutched her mouth and felt her puffy lips sting.

With both knuckles now on his desk, his eyes bore into her. ‘Grandson!’ he yelled. ‘You have no idea what you fucking did to us. You let us bond with the boy, and then you did the unthinkable. Not only did your sweet mother lose you, she lost her grandson too, and now you expect me to help him when I don’t even know the boy.’ He threw his hands in the air. ‘Christ alive, you’re one selfish bitch. D’ya know that?’

‘Dad, doesn’t this show you just how desperate I am? I know what I did was wrong, and I’ve had to live with it for over twenty years. I’m sorry. You have to believe me. I am so sorry.’ She could force another tear, but he hated tears, never believing that they were real.

‘Oh yeah, that’s right. What you did was disgusting. Of all the fucking men on the planet, you shacked up with my enemy. Oh, and I bet he was having a right good flaming laugh. Well, Shelley, tell me this. Why ain’t your fucking husband coughing up the goods, eh? Why ain’t your darling Nicolas making arrangements? Past it now, is he? Washed up and dried out, is he?’

Shelley lowered her gaze in shame.

‘Well?’ he screamed.

‘He’s left me,’ she whispered contritely.

Colin stared in disbelief. His daughter – this good-looking woman – had married Nicolas Marwood, a much older man. In fact, he was nearly the same age as himself. At forty-three, Shelley could easily pass for thirty-three. Her auburn hair, cut in a pixie style, and her round hazel eyes were fashionably attractive, and she’d not let her figure go to waste either.

‘He’s left you? Why?’ he demanded.

She looked up, hoping to see some compassion on his face, but he just stared ominously at her with those cold, dark eyes.

‘He was sniffing around a younger woman, took me credit card, and then he threw me out with just enough money to rent a gaff.’

‘You’re his wife. You’re entitled to fucking half! Jesus, girl, you ain’t that thick, surely to God, are ya?’

‘No, Dad, I ain’t that thick. But our money wasn’t in any fucking bank accounts, was it? The house was in his brother’s name, the cars were in his name, and the cash was hidden in places that only he knew about, so that’s about the fucking strength of it.’

‘I fucking knew this would happen. You can’t even do up your shoelaces by yourself. For fuck’s sake, that bastard took you away from me, and now he’s left you hung out to dry and he’s still having the last laugh.’

She wanted to defend Nicolas, but then she thought if she agreed with her father, he would be more inclined to help her.

‘Yes, Dad, I reckon he is, but, as I said, I can’t do fuck all about it.’

‘Well, I can. Where’s his brother live? I’ll send him a visitor. I want that house in your name and—’

‘Dad, I don’t care about the money or the status. I just need you to help my son. And you’re the only one who can sort this situation out. Please!’

‘He got himself in this fucking mess. He’s a stinking druggie.’

‘No, I swear, he’s not anymore,’ she pleaded.

‘Well, he’s a bloody idiot, chucking shit down his neck. It only ends up one way – huge debts or being dead.’

‘I know, I know, but please help me. You have contacts, so you can help him.’ She watched his face, knowing the cogs were turning. She really wanted to be brave and suggest that it was probably his drugs that her son had been hooked on. She wasn’t blind and knew that her father had his hand in the drug underworld. But she kept what she knew about her father’s dealings to herself.

‘Ya know what? I never had your husband put in a concrete boulder and stuck at the bottom of the river because you were his wife. End of. But now, I have no reason to hold back. You give me everything you have on that man, and I’ll help your son.’

‘Your grandson, Dad. He’s your bleedin’ flesh and blood too.’

‘Don’t push it, Shelley. Now go, and then come back when you have enough information for me to annihilate that son of a bitch.’

As Shelley got up from her chair, she faltered, unsure whether to attempt a hug; yet, again, he turned his back on her and looked out of the window once more.

Closing the door behind her, Shelley allowed a satisfied grin to creep across her face. She thought the meeting could’ve gone a lot worse. However, she’d put on her best acting skills and exaggerated the truth just enough to suck him. It had clearly worked.

* * *

Zara pushed back the white cotton sheet and was about to swing her legs around to clamber from the bed, when a heavy hand stopped her.

‘No way is my future wife gonna slip outta the sheets without a kiss. We’ll start as we mean to go on.’

Zara allowed a smile to lift her cheeks. It felt surreal, waking up in Mike’s bed for the first time ever. The years of stubbornly playing with each other’s emotions had now come to this. She was the boss, and yet, in their relationship, he would call the shots. She rolled into his open arms and snuggled her nose into his neck. ‘You feel so good, Mikey.’

‘And don’t you forget it, my wife-to-be.’

‘Er … I don’t see a ring on this finger yet.’ She laughed, holding up her right hand.

For a moment, Mike’s heart felt heavy. She should have been holding up her left hand, but she couldn’t, as there wasn’t one.

‘Well, today, we are gonna do something about that. You and I, my angel, are gonna pick the biggest, fattest diamond you fancy and show the world ya mine.’

‘A bit controlling, wouldn’t you say?’

Mike shuffled so that he was face-to-face with Zara. He blinked as he took in her natural beauty. Her skin glowed with the freshness of the morning.

‘There is no man or woman alive that could control you, and you bloody well know it.’

She gently kissed his lips and then pulled away. ‘No, Mikey, there isn’t because outside of me and you, there’s my business, and that’s when I’m the boss. But inside this house and outside of work, I might just let you take control.’ She winked. ‘Er, well, every so often perhaps.’

‘What, like this?’ he replied, as he rolled on top of her and grabbed at her underwear, ripping her knickers away from her. She looked at the passion in his eyes and felt her heart race. She loved the way he was so animalistic in the bedroom, and yet she could be just the same. She snatched the back of his head and pulled him close, biting his bottom lip.

Disturbed by the phone ringing, Zara tried to pull away.

‘Leave it, babe.’

‘No, not today. We still have business to attend to.’

Mike rolled off and stared up at the ceiling. She was right. Torvic and his granddaughter, Tiffany, were still tied up in the secret room at the back of the hangar.

‘Hello, what’s up?’ asked Zara, as soon as she answered the call.

‘Fuck me, Zara, the hangar. Torvic and Tiffany have gone!’ said Neil, her business partner.

Mike could tell from the shock on Zara’s face that something was awry. He jumped up from the bed. ‘What the hell’s going on?’

Instantly, Zara sat upright. She put the phone on loudspeaker so that Mike could hear. ‘You what? How can that be? The fucking room was locked. No one apart from us knows how to open it, and I have the … Oh shit, wait. Did I bring the remote with me? Hold on!’ She turned to Mike. ‘Where’s my jacket?’

He bent down and picked up the padded jacket that had been thrown on the floor before they’d ripped each other’s clothes off in the early hours.

She snatched it from him and searched the pockets. To her horror, they were empty. ‘Oh no! Damn it, I must’ve fucking left the remote there!’

Mike shook his head and expelled air heavily from his mouth. ‘Fuck me!’

For a moment, Zara looked at Mike and considered whether he viewed her as an idiot, because, right now, she saw herself as exactly that. After all they’d achieved last night, she’d blown it completely by leaving behind the bloody remote device that opened up the back room.

Seriously agitated, Mike was running his hands through his hair and pacing the floor. ‘It’s all my fucking fault!’

Zara was puzzled and gave an exaggerated frown. ‘How do you work that one out?’

His face dropped in shame. ‘’Cos if I hadn’t distracted you so much before we left, you would’ve remembered the remote. Bloody hell, we were tired, you were tired. I should’ve let you finish up before I decided to propose and get all fucking soppy.’ He sighed heavily.

‘Mike, have a bloody day off, will ya? It wasn’t your fault. You’re right. It was a hell of a long night and shit happens. Now we need to get ourselves together.’

There was silence as all three, including Neil, who was still on the phone, tried to take it in.

‘Neil, give me a minute. I’ll call ya back. I need to get my head around this.’

She placed the phone back on the bedside table and turned to face Mike, who was now jumping into his jeans.

‘What the fuck d’ya think’s happened?’

Mike was white-faced and angry. ‘I dunno, but we all need to meet up. I’ll call the lads. If that bastard is on the loose, then whoever set him free has more clout than us. Fuck me, we don’t even know who we’re dealing with.’

Zara wrapped her silk robe around her naked body. She would have drooled over Mike in just his jeans and with his huge muscular chest on show, but not this morning. The fear of Torvic taking revenge shot through her like shards of glass. Her stomach churned when she thought of what she’d made Torvic do to his own son. The acid had burned the man’s skin from his bones. Jesus, she thought, what if he planned to do the same to anyone in her firm? Would she ever be able to forgive herself?

Mike was now frantically trying to find his phone. His main concern was for Ricky, his son, who’d been recovering in hospital following Torvic’s son’s brutal attack on him. Ricky was supposed to be discharged at lunchtime.

Mike was sweating profusely. He couldn’t let anything happen to Ricky – not now, when he had just been reunited. He’d lost contact with his son from the age of six, until meeting him unexpectedly in Maidstone Prison only months before their final release.

In all that time apart, both Ricky and his father believed each other to be dead, so now they had an unbreakable bond, and Mike was buggered if he was going to let Torvic get his hands on him now.

‘Ring my phone, Zara. I can’t fucking find the poxy thing.’

With her body shaking, she dialled his number; Mike pulled his phone from his back pocket.

Zara rolled her eyes. ‘Babe, we need to calm down and think this through.’

Mike didn’t answer her; he was calling the hospital. After a few minutes, he yelled, ‘Aw, for Christ’s sake, why don’t they bloody pick up?’

‘Mikey, seriously, you need to calm down. Call Ricky’s mobile.’

Mike took a deep breath. She was right, of course. He really wasn’t being clear-headed.

Ricky’s phone rang twice before he answered. ‘Dad, are you coming to pick me up? The doctor said I can go home in an hour’s time. They’re—’

‘Son, listen to me. Stay put and I will get Staffie to pick you up. Do not, and I mean do not, leave that hospital with anyone other than him.’

‘Dad, what’s going on?’

‘I ain’t got time to explain. Please, just do as I ask.’

‘Of course, Dad. No worries.’

Mike sighed with relief. ‘Right, I’m gonna get the lads over here now and make a fucking watertight plan.’

Zara raised her brow. ‘Er, no, we’ll meet at my house. It’s more secure. I have cameras.’

Mike was about to demand otherwise but he was aware she was in charge. It was agreed and that was that. He bit his lip and nodded.

Zara quickly pulled on her jeans, threw on a black jumper, and tied her hair back into a ponytail.

‘Let’s go. We’ll call the others on the way.’

* * *

Once Zara had reached the entrance to her long drive, she pressed the fob clipped to her car visor and the ornate metal gates opened. She drove slowly, surveying the land on either side of the drive, looking for anything that was out of place. The early morning dark clouds made the house in the distance appear eerie. It was dauntingly large and resembled a castle – just how her father had designed it. Paranoia wormed its way through her mind as she began thinking all sorts of crazy things. It wasn’t surprising though, after the previous evening’s events at the hangar. Knowing Torvic, he would seek retribution, so, in the cold light of day, anything was possible right now.

As she peered in the rear-view mirror, she could see two cars behind her. Fortunately, she recognized them as Willie Ritz’s and Neil Lanigan’s vehicles. Lou Baker was riding shotgun with Willie.

Willie and Lou stepped out of the car and made their way to Zara’s Range Rover, where they climbed in.

Willie looked like Stig of the Dump, with his hair sticking up in all directions and his eyes heavy with brown rings.

Mike shook his head. ‘State of you! Ya need to leave off that gear, mate. You look like death warmed up.’

‘Thanks for the compliment. Anyway, what’s the hold-up?’ He winked and gave a cheeky grin.

Mike looked at Lou, who was the polar opposite of Willie. In his Hackett three-piece dark-blue suit and with his hair neatly cut and freshly shaven, he appeared groomed to perfection.

‘We’re not sure if Torvic or his men are already at the house.’

Unexpectedly, Willie sighed, climbed back out of the car, and marched on ahead.

‘Oi, Willie, what the fuck are you doing, mate?’ called out Mike, from the open passenger window.

Willie, in his long jacket and with his sleeves a tad too short, spun around. ‘It’s been pissing down all night. Wet mud will show any footprints.’

Zara stepped out of the car on hearing Willie’s thoughts. She was followed by Mike and Lou.

‘He has a point. I haven’t had a chance to have the gardens around the house landscaped yet, so it’s all just soil. If anyone’s been up there, he’ll know.’

They held back and watched as Willie wandered around, searching for clues to any intruders.

Lou laughed. ‘Cor, blimey, he even looks like a Red Indian tracker. All he needs are a few feathers in his hair.’

As they watched, Neil Lanigan and his cousin Shamus approached the house. They got out of their car and joined them. ‘What’s happening?’ asked Neil, in a less than confident tone.

Zara turned and gave Neil a soft smile. For the first time, she saw the look of a worried man on his face. ‘Willie’s just checking for footprints. We want to make sure no one’s been up there.’

Neil shivered and pushed his hands deeper into his pockets.

His discomfort had Zara a little on edge. She didn’t like to have men around her who were nervous unless of course they were on the other side of her wrath. Yet the Lanigans were her trusted business partners, and even when she was held prisoner for five years by her brother Ismail and the Segals, Guy and Benjamin, they still kept her going concern in order, splitting every penny earned completely down the middle. She flicked her eyes to Shamus, who was now puffing furiously on a cigarette. As much as they were big, muscly Irishmen, both had soft faces with large, round, boyish eyes.

Shamus was patting his cousin’s back. ‘I didn’t have a good feeling about this. Remember, I said to you last night, what if we are being fecking watched?’

Neil nodded. ‘Aye, yer did that.’

Still blaming herself for the cock-up, Zara felt sick. She looked from Mike and Lou, then back to Neil and Shamus. There was a marked difference in the men. Mike, Lou, and Willie were ready for battle; she could see in their eyes that they weren’t so afraid. On the other hand, Neil and Shamus looked like two rabbits caught in car headlights. She would have to make a plan that wouldn’t include the Lanigans – not this time – for she couldn’t afford any more mistakes, and their terrified expressions told her they would be more of a hindrance than a help.

Willie, with his crooked smile, held up his thumbs. ‘No fuckers ’ave been ’ere.’

Lou laughed. ‘Well done, Sitting Bull.’

As Zara entered the house, she paused and listened. Her nerves were on end. She just couldn’t help but feel freaked out. It was all well and good having Torvic and his evil family tied up and tortured for information, but it was another thing knowing he was out there somewhere with multifarious plans for her firm and Mike’s. The revenge on her would be horrific, and the others who were involved last night wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably either – that was a given.

Mike gripped her shoulders and whispered in her ear, ‘You’re safe with me. Go on, babe.’

She continued on and into her father’s study where the monitor for the CCTV cameras sat on the desk.

She quickly tapped the buttons to rewind the footage and watched to see if anyone had been on the property in the last twelve hours. All she could see were leaves floating in the air and the bows of the trees bending in the wind. No one, it seemed, had been near or by. She felt her tense shoulders relax. Glancing out of the window, she saw another car heading up the drive. Her eyes widened for a moment before she realized it was Mike’s brother Eric driving, and he had Lance with him. He was the man her father called ‘The Machine’, who she only recently discovered was called Lance Ryder and not Torvic. It took a while before her heart began to stop beating so fast. She left the monitor and went over to the bar. ‘Brandy anyone?’ she asked, as she turned to look at the five seated men.

They all nodded. It was still early, yet, under the circumstances, no one objected, and they gratefully accepted the drink offered.

The loud knock at the door had Mike on his feet. ‘I’ll let ’em in.’

Eric’s appearance was in direct contrast to Lance’s. Much like Lou, he was clean-shaven and smartly dressed in a neatly pressed shirt and suit trousers. Lance, on the other hand, looked dishevelled, although his expression never gave anything away. He always wore a severe poker face. His long, thick, dark hair lay on his shoulders in messy waves, and his brooding eyes were almost unblinking.

Once everyone was seated, Zara took her position behind her father’s desk. Neil and Shamus sat to her right, while Mike, Willie, and Lou sat to her left. Lance and Eric took seats across the desk.

‘So, tell us exactly what you found, Neil.’

Her sudden change in tone brought everyone to focus on this slim, tall woman with the copper-coloured eyes. Her slender neck and tight jawline gave her an almost regal aspect.

Lance was intrigued more by the intensity of her personality, which seemed to radiate charisma. It reminded him of one of his female commanding officers over in Afghanistan on his last tour of duty, years ago now. She was similarly built and a real firebrand when the mood took her – which was often.

He hadn’t known Zara for very long. Yet last night, he’d watched her command her army with a cold, stern heart. He was dumbfounded by how the man they called the Governor – the head honcho behind the new drug Flakka – had been right under the noses of him and the special operations team.

It was Zara who had managed to capture the monster. Her shrewdness and detailed planning would have put the Army to shame. Yet there was something more than that which had fascinated him. It was her ability to act so coolly and almost mind-read Torvic. How she’d sussed him out and then pieced everything together was sheer genius.

‘We got to the airfield and I said to Shamus that the back wall of the hangar looked ajar. So, as we drove nearer, we could see that it was actually wide open,’ said Neil.

Zara nodded. ‘But the hostages had gone, so there was no sign that they’d been killed, was there?’

Neil shook his head. ‘No. The chairs we had them tied to were where we left them, but the ropes had been cut and left on the floor. There was no blood or mess anywhere. They’d simply vanished.’

Zara tilted her head to the side. ‘Was there a note left or anything or—?’

Shamus interrupted. ‘No. Nothing. The place was as clean as a whistle. We had a good look around before calling you, but, honestly, it was as if the SAS had done a search and rescue.’

Zara looked at Lance. ‘Any thoughts?’

Lance glared around the room with his dark penetrating eyes. There was not a smidgen of niceness about him. She appreciated his composed demeanour and his straight-talking. Her father was right about him: his skills and strengths were to be respected. Ex-military, he was a lone wolf now, working for whoever paid the highest. Her father, of course, could afford the very best, and so, back then, Lance’s abilities had caught his attention.

‘I think we know who’s behind it. It’s this Barak Segal guy. That Torvic fella gave you his name under extreme duress, so we should turn our attentions to him.’

Eric sat almost shoulder to shoulder with Lance; both were heavily built men. He cleared his throat to say something but immediately looked at his brother. He didn’t want to be shot down in flames for speaking out of turn, which was a habit he made all too often in Mike’s company. Yet, surprisingly, Mike nodded for Eric to talk.

‘Me, if I were Torvic, after last night, I’d be too shit-scared to try and take revenge. We all saw how terrified he was of his granddaughter getting hurt.’

Zara shook her head. ‘No, Eric, he would do what I would and that’s to get Tiffany far away, out of reach, and then come for us. And he knows we have a substantial united strength. He will take us down one by one. Probably, he’ll start with our families, our closest loved ones, because he’ll want to see us in pain. He’ll want us to be begging for forgiveness, like he was.’

As she looked around, she could see the fear in their eyes. All of the men in the room now, no matter how big, hard, and ruthless they were, still felt the ultimate fear deep inside for their kids or their women getting hurt.

Willie was fidgeting and rubbing his hands down the front of his trousers.

Mike rolled his eyes. ‘Mate, ya need to stop using cocaine. We have to keep our heads straight.’

Willie looked up and raised his brow. ‘Don’t you worry about me. I’m clear-headed, coked-up or not!’

Mike was taken aback; Willie never got shirty, not with him anyway.

Zara sensed the tension and put up her hand.

‘Right, listen up. For now, we need to get the kids away, and when I say away, I mean out of the country.’ Her father always sent her away when things got too hot. ‘What about Poppy and Brooke, Lance?’

He nodded. ‘Well, I think you’re right. Arty and Liam seem to have sparked up a friendship with my girls, so I’d feel better if they all stayed together.’

With Ricky on his mind, Mike got up from his seat. ‘I’m gonna check that Staffie’s with Ricky. Lance, can you organize flights? Lou, you call the missus and arrange for your lot to go today.’

Zara knew only too well that until their families were safe, the men wouldn’t be able to get down to serious business. She had to take control and make decisions but what could she really plan? It had taken the police force, the special operations team, and the toughest criminals to hunt the man down, and it was more by luck than good judgement that she’d managed to suss out who he was. He was, after all, right under her nose. Now he was missing, and she knew deep down that it would take more than their combined skills to find the fucker again. Also very worrying was who had been watching them. If it was Barak’s men, or even Barak himself, she would sacrifice her own life if it meant she could metaphorically get her hands on him and kill him.

She stared off into the garden as the men made the requisite calls. Her mind was now on how she would hunt down Torvic.

Once they regrouped, Zara tried to temper everyone’s anxieties. They needed to stay dispassionate.

‘Right, we don’t know a lot, except for the fact that if we were being watched, and I suspect we were, then it was by either Torvic’s men or this Barak guy. And, more importantly, they couldn’t have had the force to intervene or they would’ve done so. They wouldn’t know that we would hold Torvic hostage, would they? Not even I knew that at the time until Torvic told us he was working for Barak. So, that much we do know.’

Neil nodded. ‘Look, we’re all safe for the moment, we’re all here and accounted for, so I reckon you’re right. They didn’t have the manpower to take over last night.’

Zara suddenly went white. ‘Shit! Joshua! I haven’t called him.’

She quickly pulled out her phone and made the call; yet it went straight to voicemail. Her mouth felt dry. Her cousin had been the first one to leave last night. She tried again but there was still no answer. Then she scrolled down to find his landline number. His wife would know if he had got home safely or not. Zara felt sick and filled with guilt because Joshua was only called in to help her. He didn’t live her way of life anymore. He was a sweet, gentle man who now lived for his children.

The phone rang and rang until, finally, Bella answered in a flustered voice. ‘Hello, Josh?’

‘No, Bella, it’s me, Zara. I take it Josh hasn’t arrived home?’

There was a long pause. ‘Er, no, Zara, I was hoping he was still with you. I’ve waited up most of the night, but I’ve heard nothing. His phone just goes to voicemail. Oh my God, Zara, do you think he’s okay?’

The terrifying thought drained the blood from Zara’s face. She swallowed hard before she was able to speak. ‘I’m sure he’s fine,’ she lied. ‘Listen, don’t worry. He had a few errands. I was just calling to see if he’d finished, that’s all.’ She hoped she sounded convincing.

‘Okay, Zara. Please tell him to call me, once you hear from him. I’m so concerned because he always answers his phone.’

‘Oh, it’s probably run out of battery.’

‘Maybe,’ came the deflated voice.

‘I’ll call, Bella. Goodbye.’

The men all stared open-mouthed, waiting for some explanation.

‘Josh didn’t go home, and he ain’t the type to go off without telling Bella. They’ve got him. I’m fucking sure, but if they …’

Her anger was rising, and she could feel her heart beating relentlessly. The notion that her sweet cousin was being tortured or mercilessly killed at the hands of Torvic was hard to bear.

‘I swear to God, I’ll shred every fucking piece of skin from the man’s bones if he …’

Mike gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Hey, listen, we don’t know what’s gone on yet. Please, Zara, babe …’

Not wanting to crumple, Zara stiffened. ‘I’m fine, Mike. I think we need to establish first whether it was Barak or just some of Torvic’s druggies in his firm. Once the kids are out of the country, we need to check out all the places from where that shit drug Flakka was sold. Let’s find out what’s going on.’

She looked at Neil. ‘Look, no disrespect, but I want you to go back to Ireland with Shamus. Torvic will want to pick us off, one by one. I need you away …’ She tried to find the right words that wouldn’t insult him.

‘No!’ he said, sharply, before lowering his tone. ‘I’m your equal business partner, so this fight is just as much mine. Shamus and I will check out your restaurants. Torvic and his gang of druggies may not start with the families. He could try to destroy your businesses first.’

Zara nodded. She knew he had a valid point, which made her realize that her knowledge of Torvic’s sick acts probably only scratched the surface.

‘Fine, but never alone.’ She shot a look at Shamus, who nodded in agreement.

Chapter 2

Arty washed his face and combed his hair. He then searched Lance’s bathroom for some hair gel. Liam stood in the doorway. ‘Fuck me, mate, this is serious shit. Me ol’ man sounded right worried.’

Arty looked at his reflection in the mirror once more and turned to face Liam. ‘I dunno what I’m gonna do, Liam. I ain’t even got a toothbrush, let alone a change of clothes. And Spain, I hate mainland Spain. They could’ve booked flights to Ibiza.’

Liam shook his head. ‘Arty, mate, you can buy as much fairy fart smellies and Hugo Boss T-shirts as ya like, once we get there. We gotta take this seriously, right? I ain’t never heard me dad talk like that before.’

Arty chewed the inside of his lip. ‘All right, mate. How are the girls doing?’

A cheeky grin slithered its way across his face. ‘Poppy’s using me as a crutch, which I kinda like. I can’t believe the bird likes me. I mean …’ He pushed Arty away from the mirror and pointed. ‘Look at that face. Who the fuck would fancy that, eh?’

Arty put his arm around Liam. ‘You ain’t so bad, Liam, mate. Stop doubting yaself.’

Liam looked Arty up and down. ‘Aw, come on, Art. You look like you’ve stepped outta an action-packed movie, but me, well, I’ve stepped outta a fucking horror film.’

Arty laughed. ‘See, bro, I may have the looks, but you have the humour.’

Liam looked again at his long, bent nose and skinny, lanky body. ‘Yeah, I guess I gotta have something, eh, ’cos that Poppy is one stunner and she likes me.’

Arty ruffled Liam’s hair. ‘Nothing to do with ya big dick, then?’

Liam giggled. ‘Nah, she ain’t met that yet. That’s gonna be a bonus.’

* * *

Poppy stared down at her cornflakes. ‘Brooke, it’s all exciting and fun, but, in reality, this is so alien to us. What the hell do we know about this way of life, and why is Lance so determined to keep us safe? He’s not even really related to us.’

Brooke, her twin sister, reached across the table and grabbed her hand. ‘You are the clever one. I thought you would have worked it out by now.’

Poppy looked up and frowned. ‘Worked what out?’

Brooke moved a loose long blonde strand from her face. ‘I think Lance is actually our real father.’

Poppy nearly choked on her cereal. ‘That’s absurd.’

‘No, it’s not. Listen. While you were in the hospital, and I was here, Lance said don’t go poking around. Well, I took a leaf out of your book and became the Secret Squirrel. I did have a good snoop and …’ She got up from her seat and wandered over to a cabinet.

‘What are you doing?’ asked Poppy.

Brooke removed an album from the top drawer. ‘Look!’ she said, returning to her seat and opening the first page. She pointed to a picture of a woman.

Poppy pulled the album closer, to get a better view, and suddenly gasped. ‘Who the hell is that? Oh, my word, she looks just like us. I mean, she could be our mother. Let’s face it, we look nothing like our mother, do we? And we certainly look nothing like Alastair.’

‘No, exactly. I looked at the other photos, and there are some with Lance and her. I think she’s his sister, which means that we could be his family.’

Poppy leaned back on her chair. ‘Oh, I don’t know. Maybe it’s wishful thinking. Perhaps we are just scrabbling around for answers. I mean, our mother is hardly the motherly type, and as for Alastair, he isn’t really the ideal parent, and both you and I came to the same conclusion. So perhaps we are purely fantasizing.’

Brooke was adamant. ‘No, Poppy, of course it’s possible. Think about it. Kendall was only a year old when we were born. Kendall was Lance’s daughter, although Mother did insist we all have the same surname. So who’s to say we weren’t his as well. Anyway, when he comes home, I am going to ask him outright …’

Poppy sighed. ‘Brooke, stop a minute. Do you really want Lance to be our father? I mean, what difference will it make now? We are grown women.’

‘He came into the bedroom last night and must have assumed we were asleep. He removed my glasses and put them on the side. I would quite like to have a real father who cares, even when I’m fifty years old. It would be kind of nice, don’t you think?’

Poppy looked at her twin sister’s sweet, childlike expression and felt sorry for her. The poor girl had been to hell and back. The rape must have been horrendous, so she could see why Brooke would want a strong man to make her feel safe and loved.

‘Yes, Brooke, you’re right. But I think, from the sound of things, we have more pressing issues, like understanding why we need to leave the bloody country. Lance has gone to the house to collect our passports. It’s all happening rather too fast for me to get my head around it all.’

Brooke placed the album back inside the drawer and joined her sister. ‘We will have Arty and Liam with us.’

Poppy smiled. ‘I guess that’s a bonus, then.’

By the time Lance arrived back home, he looked worried and had no time for any girlie dramas. He pushed the door open and marched into the dining room, ready to act like a sergeant major and kickstart the girls into gear.

‘Right, this is what’s going to happen. Firstly—’

Brooke stopped him in his tracks. She rose from her chair and stood in front of him, with her hands up, signifying that she had something to say.

He tilted his head and took a breath. Poppy noticed how his stern features softened as soon as Brooke was in his face. It was at that moment she wondered if Brooke was right about them being related.

‘Lance, may I ask you something very personal?’ said Brooke, in her sweetest voice.

Lance appeared to blush slightly, and a gentle smile crept across his face. ‘Um, like what?’

The huge serious-minded man seemed to have shifted personalities, which made Poppy want to laugh.

Brooke stepped back. ‘I know you said not to be nosey, but I did find an album …’ She paused, waiting for a reaction. Either he will go ballistic or remain with that soft expression, she thought.

Luckily for her, he chose the latter option. She took a deep breath, glanced back at her sister, and then asked outright, ‘Lance, are you our father?’

Poppy looked down, embarrassed, wishing the floor would swallow her up.

However, Brooke stared directly into his eyes. It was most unlike her. She was the shy one – normally.

His huge, broad shoulders relaxed, and he took a seat at the table. ‘Only a DNA can confirm it either way.’

‘I can sense a “but” in there, Lance,’ said Brooke, eager for him to continue, as she too sat down at the table.

He looked from one girl to the other. ‘You could be. I believe your mother lied about your due dates, and you both look so much like my sister. She had the same eyes, and I’ve no need to tell you that, if you’ve been looking through the album.’

Brooke looked at Poppy’s gaping mouth and grasped her sister’s hand. This was so unbelievable.

‘So, what will all this mean, Lance? I mean, like, between us?’

Lance unexpectedly grabbed her hand. ‘I don’t know, Brooke, but what I do know is this. I lost Kendall, although she actually wasn’t my own flesh and blood. I discovered that eventually. But I loved her all the same. I hate to say this, but your mother wasn’t as sweet and innocent as she made out. And, by the way, I heard she’s been arrested for running you down, Poppy. Nevertheless, I need you two as far away as possible because something pretty serious has happened. I don’t want you both in the way. Luckily, I managed to find your passports.’

Brooke knew he had changed the subject deliberately, but like a dog with a bone, she pressed him again. ‘Lance, please, before we go, what do you want to do? I mean, a DNA or …?’

Lance smiled and shook his head. ‘The truth is …’

Poppy suddenly noticed his little finger was bent. Her heart raced as she looked at her own and then at Brooke’s. They all had the same condition. Without rationalizing it first, she blurted out, ‘Lance, you are our father. I know that now for a fact.’

Lance frowned. ‘How?’

Poppy slid her trembling hand across the table and tapped his crooked finger. ‘Look! We have the same condition. It’s hereditary, so I think we can safely say that you’re our father.’

Brooke was suddenly beaming with excitement. ‘Oh my God, you’re our dad, our real dad, then!’

Totally out of the blue, Brooke leaped from her seat and flung her arms around his neck. ‘I knew it, I just knew it.’ Her excitement brought tears to her eyes.

It suddenly hit Lance that it was one thing saying they were his daughters, but it was quite another dealing with the emotion and now the responsibility. However, he was unexpectedly gripped by a warm feeling – a new sensation. His years of combat had made him cold and heartless, but the look on his girls’ faces stirred another emotion.

Out of character, he turned to Poppy and held out his arms for her to do the same. She hesitated at first, but once those huge arms pulled her into his chest, she also felt a great comfort.

The revelations and reactions from the trio were halted as Arty and Liam entered the room. Arty looked a little uncomfortable, almost sheepish, since Lance was such a big, stern man, and his expression gave nothing away.

‘My dad called. I think we’re going to Spain … all of us.’

Lance straightened up and nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s right. We just need you guys to be away until we get something sorted out. I know, Arty, that it’s not your responsibility to look out for my girls but …’

‘Lance, we will anyway, take my word. We’ll look after them.’

Liam pushed his way into the room. ‘Yeah, mate, we’ll take care of ’em.’ Then he looked over at Poppy and winked.

Lance rolled his eyes. ‘Christ, you’re so much like your father, Liam. What I mean is, make sure no harm comes to them.’

Liam was nodding as if his head would fall off. ‘I know what you mean, Lance. But I ain’t what you think. I wouldn’t take advantage, would I, Arty? I ain’t like that.’

‘He’s right, Lance. We’ve been brought up to be respectful.’

‘Sorry, lads. Yeah, I know your fathers, and I know if you’re half the men they are, then my girls are in safe hands.’

A car horn sounded.

‘Willie’s here already. Right, lads, you go with him, and I’ll take the girls. We’ll meet you at the airport in an hour.’

Liam wasted no time in kissing Poppy on the forehead, and Arty kissed Brooke on the cheek.

Once they were out of sight, Lance turned to his daughters. ‘So I guess they will look after you then? Do I detect more than a friendship going on?’

Poppy blushed. ‘No, Lan … I mean, do we call you … I mean, can we call you Dad?’

Lance squeezed her shoulder. ‘Baby, you can call me whatever you like, but Dad sounds good.’

She blushed again. ‘Dad, we are just friends, for now. They are good men. I feel safe with them.’

He chuckled. ‘A bit different, I guess, from your mother’s friends.’

Brooke laughed. ‘Worlds apart, Dad. But you know what? I hated Mother’s way of life. It was so stilted and cold, and as for Alastair, well, he was like a passing shadow. I always wondered why he wasn’t like my friends’ fathers. Still, I am sure he won’t miss us.’

Lance gave a fake smile. Inside, he was reliving the moment when the acid was poured over Alastair and the painful, ugly way in which he was killed. How was he going to explain what had happened to him?

‘Come on. Let’s get going, girls. We can’t waste any more time.’

* * *

Willie drove more rationally than usual. He didn’t want to attract any attention. Arriving at Arty’s house, he instructed him to grab his passport and not fanny around. They would be given enough money to buy a wardrobe of clothes once they reached Spain. Arty did as he was told and was back in the car in record time.

As they approached his ex-wife’s house, Willie was so intent on getting the lads to the airport that he wasn’t aware of a black BMW parked across the street. Inside, a man wearing a dark hoodie was watching them.

The thought of the previous night’s events still trickled through Willie’s brain. If Torvic were to capture any one of the lads, there would be carnage. He had to keep his mind on track. He’d never before felt fear, and now it was beating him over the head and causing waves of nausea to engulf his body.

Liam was his mini-me, the be-all and end-all of his life. As he watched his son skip towards the car with his hair messily blowing in the wind, his heart ached. If only Liam had taken on his mother’s looks instead of being cursed with his own features. Still, there was something very lovable about Liam, and the firm all had a soft spot for him.

The excitement had the lads chatting for England; however, Willie remained quiet. If the boys knew why they had to get away, he wondered if they would be so up for it. He decided he would discuss the seriousness of the present situation when they reached the airport. He just had to find the right words that would instil vigilance yet not frighten them. He wasn’t the best with words; that was Lou Baker’s job or Mike Regan’s, for that matter. He tended to be a little reckless and never thought before he spoke, but he realized that today would be different. His worry was so intense that he’d even ditched his cocaine pouch. There would be no more drugs until this was over. He had to be clear-headed because too much was at stake for any flippancy.

Gatwick was busy, and a sudden downpour had everyone busily crossing the road as if a tsunami had hit them. The rumble of people and cars had Willie distracted, and so he was still unaware that the black BMW, which had been parked outside his home and had then been tailing them throughout the whole journey, was now parked two cars away from his own.

Arty and Liam were still babbling on about the two girls, oblivious to the concerned expression on Willie’s face. Always the joker or the butt of jokes, Willie was silent. With very little time left before departure, Willie turned to Liam and Arty and shepherded them over to a quiet area. He needed to have a serious conversation with them about the events surrounding Ricky’s injuries and the death of the twins’ sister Kendall, now that Torvic had managed to escape from the secret room in the hangar. He knew what he was about to tell the boys wouldn’t go down well. It didn’t. The look on Liam’s and Arty’s faces spoke volumes.

Checking their passports were in order, they followed Willie into the departure entrance. Willie marched ahead, looking for Staffie and Ricky. He didn’t bother with the long conveyor belt ride, wanting to be in front and not have to squeeze past people. Arty and Liam had to keep hurrying to catch up. Once they were by section C of the check-in counters, they spotted Ricky, and both rushed over to embrace their friend.

Ricky looked surprisingly well for someone who had been near to death after the horrendous beating he’d taken. He still looked a tad pale, but, other than that, his large, round, grey eyes were sparkling.

Liam hugged him. ‘So, are we gonna have a blast, kiddo?’

Ricky gave him a weary smile. ‘Good to see ya, Liam, but, I dunno. Dad sounded pretty serious. Do you know what’s going on?’

Not wanting to alarm Ricky, Liam shook his head. ‘Nah, only that we’re off to Spain with Poppy and Brooke.’

Ricky had met Poppy in the hospital, after she’d been mown down by her mother. He frowned. ‘Poppy and Brooke?’ He looked at Arty.

‘Yeah, mate. Brooke’s Poppy’s twin sister. It’s a long story, but, anyway, they’re coming with us.’

* * *

Staffie pulled Willie to one side, making sure they were out of earshot. ‘I don’t like this, Willie. I wish I’d never got involved.’

Willie ran his long, thin fingers through his hair. ‘Well, we are, buddy, so let’s just get on with it. ’Ave ya seen Lance yet?’

Staffie shook his head. ‘Nah, I ain’t, but I spoke with Terrence. He’s made all the arrangements. The kids can stay at one of his villas. He’ll have them picked up at the airport, and he’s got some serious tools if needs must.’

Willie grinned. ‘Nice one, ’cos if that Torvic turns up, they’ll have to fucking shoot the cunt. He’s like the man that never dies, and I don’t like it, Staff. I ain’t afraid to say it, but we’re in over our fucking heads. That bastard is on the loose, and so that means he has one hell of an advantage.’

Willie suddenly spotted Lance and the girls. Poppy was being helped along by her father. Not only was her leg still badly bruised, but she needed an arm to lean on. ‘Oh, shit me. Will they let her on the plane like that?’

Staffie sighed. ‘Oh Christ, that’s all we fucking well need.’

Willie hurried over and pulled Lance to one side while the lads wasted no time in fussing over the girls.

‘Lance, mate, they won’t let her on the plane without a doctor’s note.’

Lance grinned. ‘Well, my girls are one step ahead. Clever little things they are, they did a mock-up doctor’s note on the phone, an e-mail or something. Anyway, don’t worry, they’ll be on that plane.’

Once they were ready to go through passport control, Staffie handed Arty one of his bank cards. ‘Don’t rinse the fucker.’

Arty laughed. ‘Thanks, Pops, but ya know I will.’

Staffie looked his handsome son up and down. He was proud of his boy. He was a fearless lad with good looks, yet he had a heart of gold when it came down to it.

Willie was still on edge when he placed an arm around Liam’s shoulders. ‘Listen, my boy. Don’t talk to anyone. You make sure at all times the security alarms are switched on in Terrence’s villa, got me? If ya think anyone’s watching ya, you call Terrence right away. And ya know me number. You look after yaself and call me every fucking day.’

Liam didn’t like the look on his dad’s face. He knew that this was probably the first time in his life that his father was genuinely shitting himself.

‘Dad, don’t worry. I’ll be careful, I promise.’

‘Good lad, and listen, boy. I love ya, yeah?’

Liam frowned. He knew his father loved him, but he’d never heard his father actually say those words.

‘Hey, Dad, we’ll be fine, and I love ya too, ya silly ol’ git.’

Staffie was giving Arty strict instructions as to what to do if Torvic turned up. He described the man and then finished by saying, ‘Don’t fuck about, Arty. If the bastard turns up, kill him. We’ll sort out the mess afterwards.’

Arty raised his brows. ‘Fuck me, Dad! What? You want me to actually kill him?’

Staffie felt the tears in his eyes well up. ‘I’d never tell you to kill anyone, but for your sake and theirs, you won’t have a choice. The man is evil. I mean, really fucking evil.’

Arty stared into his father’s eyes and knew then that whoever they were running from had the power to take out the firm.

‘Dad, are you gonna be all right?’

Staffie laughed. ‘Son, I’m always all right. I might be reaching me sell-by date but I ain’t there yet.’

Poppy and Brooke hugged their father. ‘It’s so sad that we have only just met you and now we’re going away,’ said Brooke, teary-eyed.

Lance kissed her cheek. ‘It’s not forever, babe, and take this,’ he said, as he pulled a fat wad of notes from his inside jacket pocket.

Poppy’s eyes widened. She had never seen so much money. ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly. That’s so much.’

Lance then kissed Poppy’s cheek, which made her blush. ‘Poppy, spend it on what you like, but just make sure you two stay together and with the lads. Never go off on your own.’

Both girls nodded, each wanting to know more, but they knew that this was not the right time or place.

* * *

As the youngsters said their final goodbyes, the man in the dark hoodie watched from a distance and made a call. He turned his face away so that Willie couldn’t see him. He whispered down the phone, ‘The flight leaves in one hour.’ He reeled off the flight number and then ended the call. He took one last look to make sure they were definitely going to check in, and then, as he watched Arty hand over his passport, he scurried away. His job was done.