Ruthless a Gripping and Gritty Crime Thriller

by Charlie Gallagher

  ‘It’s late. One hundred’s what you want from her per day. You’ve got that. She stays with me. Or I take it back and you get the hassle of getting the word out quick and walking her across the estate.’

  Aaron still smiled. ‘Okay then, rummy. You get your night. I guess you’re a lonely old pisshead since your ex did the honourable thing and upped and died. Be gentle though, yeah? I get the feeling she ain’t seen a real man before!’ Aaron laughed loud.

  The man nodded towards Rhiannon and limped back to his room.

  ‘Bring her in!’ he called out. Rosh still had hold of Rhiannon’s arm and she felt him pull on it. She wanted to pull back, to fight, to run. But she found herself shuffling to the bedroom door. She was shoved into the room. It was bare, save for a broken wardrobe and a wooden chair against the wall and a filthy mattress on the floor. A large TV hung precariously on the wall. It flickered in silence.

  ‘And, rummy!’ Aaron’s voice boomed through the open door. ‘She don’t get out of here tonight, you hear me? Not tonight. Not until I walk her tomorrow. She has a debt to work off. You understand?’

  ‘Close the door.’ The man growled. Rosh backed through it, and turned his head as if waiting for permission. Then he pushed it firmly closed. Rhiannon turned back to face the man.

  ‘Please,’ she managed. ‘I’m so scared!’

  The man peered past her at the shut door. He spoke in an urgent whisper. ‘Listen to me . . . I’m not going to touch you. I promise, okay?’ He held up his hands. ‘You’re in a lot of danger. They have to believe that I did what is expected. Do you understand?’

  ‘That you touched me?’

  ‘I just paid for sex. They have to believe that I got what I paid for or that piece of shit is going to send out word that you’re on the game and there won’t be much I can do to protect you.’

  ‘Why are you protecting me?’

  ‘You’ll have to stay here tonight. I need time to think, time to sort out where we go from there — how we get you out of here for good.’

  ‘Can’t you just call the police?’

  ‘No. Hell no, we can’t do that. These people will kill you for even thinking it.’

  ‘Are you drunk?’ Rhiannon could smell the alcohol on his breath, his eyes looked a little glazed and some of his words might have been slightly slurred.

  ‘Not drunk enough, I can assure you of that.’ He stood up. Rhiannon noticed the grimace on his face again. ‘You can have the bed tonight. I’ll take the floor.’ He bent down, this time he grunted in pain. He picked up the corner of the mattress and let it slap back on the floor. He did it again, and again.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He looked over. ‘It’s been a little while, love, I’ll be honest. But this is kinda what I remember sex sounding like.’

  Rhiannon backed away; she did nothing to hide her disgust. She found a place to sit in the corner against the wall.

  ‘Jesus,’ she said, her face rigid with shock.

  ‘He won’t help right now. Do me a favour, love . . . get that chair — quietly — and jam it under the door handle, would you? I need to be sure we don’t get anyone come check on our progress.’

  Rhiannon did as she was told. The man kept up the slapping of the mattress for a couple more minutes. When he stopped she heard a shout and a cheer from the other side of the door. Their eyes met and Rhiannon could do nothing to stop the tears. She buried her head in her hands and sobbed.

  Chapter 13

  ‘You saved me last night.’ Rhiannon reckoned she had slept less than an hour in total. Her new friend had slept much better. His snoring was testament to that.

  ‘For now, and you’re welcome.’ He was still fully clothed. They both were. He sat up and leant against the wall. She saw that same grimace on his face. It looked as if every movement hurt him.

  ‘I never got your name.’

  ‘No. I’m William. This is my house, believe it or not. Or at least it was.’

  ‘Rhiannon. Rhiannon Davis. What’s the matter with you? Are you in pain?’

  ‘My leg. It gives me stick is all.’

  ‘Are you on painkillers or anything?’

  ‘No, I don’t like the doctors. I don’t trust them.’

  ‘My mum never trusted them either. She had a bad back. She was in a lot of pain, but the doctor couldn’t give her anything that she could take with the booze. He told her that she was drinking too much, too — the only person who ever did. She said she never trusted him after that. The truth is she just didn’t like him.’

  ‘Are you making a point?’

  ‘Alcoholics don’t like people who tell them they’re alcoholics.’

  William chuckled a little. ‘That’s not entirely true. The committed alcoholic you see, now he or she doesn’t need to be told.’

  ‘That’s you then, is it?’

  ‘You’re very sharp.’

  ‘You don’t have to be sharp to spot a drinker. The shakes, your nose, your surroundings.’

  William struggled to his feet. ‘Well done, you. And speaking of my surroundings we need to get you out of here. You got an alcoholic mother to get back to.’

  ‘I don’t live with her. The Social won’t let me.’

  William pulled the door open a crack to peer through. He turned back to look at Rhiannon. When he spoke it was a whisper. ‘Well, wherever you live, you need to be there and not here.’

  ‘What about you?’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘The man, Aaron, he said you were in charge of keeping me here, right? If I’m gone you’ll get it in the neck from him.’

  William pushed the door back shut. ‘There’s no movement. They’ll be asleep. You need to get going. Don’t worry about him, or me. I’m just some sad old drunk to him. I’ll tell him you overpowered me — that will please him enough that he might just laugh it off. He’ll have some other plaything by the end of the day. As long as it isn’t you. You need to go. Now!’

  Rhiannon stood up. She still had her shoes on. She scooped her phone up and pressed the button on the front screen. It was completely dead. William pulled the door open and she peered out into the living room. The sun was just up. There was nothing to stop the daylight in William’s room but the curtains had been pulled across and the lights were off out in the living room area. It was just light enough to see shapes. She could see the back of the sofa, but she couldn’t see who was on the other side.

  ‘Is there no other way out?’ she whispered. Her attention turned to the bedroom window. It was a tired, white UPVC unit, stained black with damp. The only part that might open was a thin strip along the top. The handle was black, too, and thick brambles bumped against the glass as the breeze shook them.

  ‘No. Just make a run for it. The door never gets locked. It’s a bit stiff so you might think it’s locked. Just twist it all the way and give it a good tug.’

  ‘It will make a noise though?’

  ‘It might. Once it’s open, just go. They won’t catch you.’

  Rhiannon wasn’t sure. She opened the bedroom door and peered back out. Her eyes were better adjusted; it looked lighter. She could see a bundle of something on the sofa that faced her; it was too small to be someone. There was an open bag on the floor at one end and clothes were leaking out. She could hear the sounds of breathing, rhythmic and long, like someone asleep.

  ‘I can’t!’ she breathed.

  ‘Go!’

  ‘What if he catches me?’

  ‘Just go, and don’t let that happen.’

  Rhiannon tiptoed into the living room. Her footfalls sounded to her like the loudest thing she had ever heard. She grimaced with every step. She snuck past the sofa. She could see a long shape on it, under a cover of sorts and turned away from her. The head was covered. She made it to the front door. The handle squeaked as it turned. She held it and peered back over at the sleeping figure, holding her breath. Still no movement. Beyond him she could see the bedroom door was still ajar. Willi
am still stood at it; he opened it wider to signal for her to go.

  She pulled at the door. It didn’t budge. It felt like it was locked. She turned back to William, starting to feel the desperation. She shook the door and it rattled loudly. The figure stirred. William waved again for her to go. She rattled the door harder, used all her strength. It didn’t budge.

  ‘We found the key.’ A man’s voice, a figure sat up on the sofa. He shook his head and rubbed at his face. ‘You ain’t gonna be able to get out without it.’ He stood up and stepped towards Rhiannon. He was holding a key out on the end of his finger, mocking her. It was the thin boy who had stayed silent last night.

  ‘Let me go.’

  ‘I got my instructions,’ he said.

  ‘Let her go, Mo!’ William shouted. ‘This don’t involve her. What good is she here?’

  ‘Five grand, I heard.’

  ‘He knows she don’t owe that. Aaron’s playing with the girl. You don’t need to be part of that, Mo. Let her go. I’ll say it was me — I let her out.’

  ‘Aaron said you would. He told me to make sure you don’t. It don’t matter what you say, rummy, this is self-preservation. I ain’t gonna be the one pissing him off.’

  William had moved closer. Rhiannon looked at him. Her panic started to build again — the realisation that she was a prisoner.

  ‘She’s going, Mo.’ William snatched for the keys. He was quicker than Rhiannon expected; he took them from Mo in a single movement and moved to the door. Mo was back at him. He had a slight build and he was a young man but he was quick. He hooked his arm round William’s neck from behind him and pulled him backwards. William stumbled away from Rhiannon but still held the keys tightly in his right fist.

  ‘Get off me, Mo!’

  ‘Give me the fucking keys back, rummy!’ Rhiannon saw Mo’s hand snatch downwards. He brought out an evil-looking blade. He hooked his arm back around, the blade pushing lightly into William’s neck. Rhiannon covered her mouth, William was looking directly at her. He seemed assured. Rhiannon could see the colour of his skin had gone white where the pressure of the point pushed into his throat.

  ‘What is it with you boys and your knives? What happened to a good fist fight? That’s what men used to do, I swear it. You boys . . . you’re playing.’ William was almost smiling.

  ‘You ain’t got a fist fight in you either, rummy.’

  ‘Put the knife down and we’ll give it a go.’

  ‘Give me the keys!’

  ‘She’s leaving.’ William was close enough to reach the door. He pushed the key into the lock.’

  ‘Turn that key and I’ll slit your throat.’

  ‘No, you won’t.’ The key turned. William was looking right at Rhiannon again. ‘Pull the door, love. Go home.’

  ‘Don’t you fucking move!’ Mo still held William with his arm hooked round his neck, but the knife now pointed towards her. She pulled the door enough for a slit of daylight.

  ‘Go on love, go!’

  Rhiannon pulled the door wider. She stepped out. When she made it to the gate she broke into a run.

  * * *

  William took a pint of water back to his bedroom. Mo eyed him furiously and he waved him away, calling him a boy for the final time. William lay back on the mattress. It smelled sweet for once; Rhiannon must have left some of her perfume on it. He ran through his options in his mind. He was pretty sure he had finished the last of the rum the night before. He would need to get out for some more supplies and he reckoned he would be back to funding it himself. He had some money left over from what Aaron had given him and from his grafting the day before, even after paying to keep Rhiannon out of harm’s way — for now at least. He lay thinking about Rhiannon. She had immediately looked out of place, a true flower in a compost heap. He hoped she never looked back.

  He could hear Mo’s voice through the wall. Not enough to be able to pick out words, but he guessed it was a phone call. He also reckoned he knew who he was speaking to. This was confirmed around fifteen minutes later. He knew it was Aaron, just from the way the door was opened. The man seemed to be heavy handed in everything he did. The door slammed off the wall, the footsteps were heavy and came right to his bedroom door, which was opened just as heavily. The chair against the handle folded as if it was made of matchsticks.

  ‘Rummy!’ Aaron stepped into the room and fell on top of where William was lying. He was already swinging his giant fists. William felt a blow to his head and two hammer blows to his body. His head stung and his vision blurred, he felt a shot of pain in his ribs. He tried to get his arms out for protection but felt his left wrist get swept up in a firm grip. His arm was pushed outwards and he took two more blows to the face. He tried to lift his right arm out in a push, but it was useless. Everything was fading, the pain, his vision, the sounds of Aaron’s rage. Until it all slipped away.

  * * *

  Rhiannon didn’t stop running until she made it to the bus stop. She jumped onto the first bus that showed up and found a seat at the back. The bus was near empty, and from her position she could see anyone who might get on. The trip from Langthorne to Ashford was around thirty-five minutes. After fifteen minutes, the bus left the town of Langthorne and she felt herself relaxing. Inevitably she was overcome with sleep. She took off her hoody, rolled it up to form a pillow and rested against the window. It smelled of damp and stale cigarette smoke but she didn’t care.

  She got to her stop and felt worse for the sleep. She yearned for a shower and a comfy bed with clean sheets. She was as quiet as she could manage opening the door to her temporary home, but it was no good. Rose had been waiting for her. She was at the door before Rhiannon had even pushed it open.

  ‘Oh, Rhiannon! What happened to you?’

  ‘Hey, Rose. I’m really sorry — I got caught out. The buses weren’t running.’

  ‘The buses? You should have called. Two nights in a row, late and then this!’ Rose gestured at her. ‘You look like you slept on a park bench. You could have called me out. I would have come and picked you up, Rhiannon. I just needed to know you were okay.’

  ‘I’m fine, Rose. It won’t happen again. My phone died. I’m really sorry.’ Rhiannon’s voice broke a little and her tears caught her by surprise.

  Rose’s stance softened immediately. ‘Oh, Rhiannon, don’t be upset. You’re here and you’re okay, that’s all that matters. Have you eaten even?’

  Rhiannon was suddenly aware how hungry she was. ‘No, actually. I’ll just do some toast.’

  ‘Go shower, my love. Go get yourself all freshened up and I’ll put some toast in.’

  ‘Is Sam in?’

  ‘No. She was in late and she left for college this morning.’

  Rhiannon plugged her phone into its charger the second she made it back into her room. It took a few minutes for it to have enough life to even turn on. She had left the shower running just down the corridor, it was calling her. She Googled the local doctor’s surgery. It came up with a telephone number. She pressed on the number and it started calling.

  * * *

  Something vibrated. It was close to him, William could feel the vibration as well as hear it. He opened his eyes, his right eye didn’t function, he could barely see out. His face stung, his lips and mouth particularly. He reached a hand up and pushed at his mouth and winced immediately. Flexing his jaw got the same reaction. He felt a tooth move in his gum, the pain was enough to make him wail. The vibrating stopped. William struggled sit up. He had been lying on his side and his lips were stuck to his pillow with dried blood. He had to peel the cotton away.

  The vibration started again.

  Confused, he looked around. There were no places for anything to hide. Sure enough, a mobile phone lay on the floor. It was plugged into a charger on the wall. He recognised it as being the one he’d lost ages ago.

  The screen gave no clue as to who was calling. ‘Hello?’ His lips and mouth stung with speaking.

  ‘William? William Dryden?’
<
br />   ‘Yeah.’

  ‘It’s Rhiannon. From last night. Are you okay? Did that Mo leave you alone after I left?’ The concern was genuine, unmistakable. William hadn’t heard that in a while. His face flushed, a tear rolled out that he couldn’t feel until it made it to his chin. He wiped it away.

  ‘Yeah.’ It was all he could manage, lying beaten and in pain his sudden emotion still caught him out.

  ‘I found your phone. It was under the wardrobe. I took your number, I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Are you sure you’re okay? Are they there? Can you not talk?’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Okay. I called to tell you I made you an appointment. With the doctor.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The doctor. You need to get yourself sorted out. You shouldn’t be living with that sort of pain. It’s 4 p.m. — the appointment, I mean.’

  ‘I can’t. Shorry.’ The tooth that had been flexing now came loose in his mouth. He spat it out, catching it in his hand. He fixed on it; it was a bloody mass. ‘Oh, Jesus!’

  ‘Are you drunk, William?’ The concern slipped immediately. She sounded angry now.

  ‘No.’

  ‘You’re just as hopeless as Mum was. You need to start looking after yourself. You need to make this appointment at four. They’ll help you with the pain but they can also help get you off the drink. You do want that right?’

  ‘Shure.’ He felt a fresh drip of blood over his lips.

  ‘So you’ll be there?’

  ‘I can’t. Not now.’ Every word was agony.

  ‘You can. Why can’t you? If you don’t make it then I will make another appointment and I will walk back to that house to make sure you come. Believe me, William, I will.’

  ‘You can’t! You don’t understand. You need to shtay away.’

  ‘You are drunk. Just be there William. Please.’

  The call disconnected. William dropped the phone. He shook his head. He surveyed his body for more injuries. His ribs were sore, the back of his head had a lump. The inside of the wardrobe had a full-length mirror. He had to wipe it with his sleeve to remove a layer of dust and grime. His reflection made him gasp. His right eye looked like a split tomato and it leaked a clear fluid. His nose was swollen at the bridge and was tender to the touch. His lips were swollen, too, and he had dried blood over most of his face. He pulled his shirt open. He had bruising on his chest and arms and his left shin was severely bruised with an open gash that trickled blood. He couldn’t stand. Not for now at least — he’d have to build up to it. He lowered himself as gently as he could back onto his side and closed his eyes to the world.