Find Me

by Nell Grey

“Don’t. Don’t say it. I don’t want no more blood on my hands.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “Kill him if it’ll make you feel better. But not for me, Connor. Never say you did it for me.”

  “But, Tony… I come half ways ‘round the world for ya?”

  “Yeah. Ya did. ‘Cos yer a crazy git and you can’t stand the fact that this Sion bloke got one up on yer. This was always about you. Irish, the great fuckin’ gangster. But, I want nutin’ to do with it. Ya hear me, Connor? Nothin’.”

  The phone went dead.

  He rubbed his head and put the phone back in his pocket. Then, he leaned back onto the mattress.

  Was he serious? How could he say that? Everything he did was for his family.

  A wave swept over him. Was he tired of all of this? Or was it the jetlag? It was the jet lag, he decided. It was an assassin in its own right, sneaking up on you quietly, rendering you helpless.

  Loaded gun at his side, Connor O’Dwyer curled up on the mattress that smelled of sex.

  It didn’t matter what his brother thought, or who he was doing this for, anymore. The fact remained that Sion Edwards had ratted him out. And for that, tomorrow they’d all die.

  ◆◆◆

  Fat lot of good they’ve been. Two of my father’s biker gang henchmen are propped up on the lodge deck outside, fast asleep. I step over them to pick up a handful of empty beer bottles. So much for guard duty.

  The kitchen looks like locusts have swarmed. The cupboards are bare and beer bottles, plates and greasy bowls are strewn across the granite tops. The detritus of the night before.

  Tane’s asleep in one of the guest rooms. Ari in another. They were both up ‘til the wee hours, ‘keeping watch’ supposedly. Drinking whisky with Shaun, more like.

  It’s real early. The sun is up but the air is still a little cool and the lake is mirror-still. It’s so breathtakingly beautiful out here today, I’m so going to get Shaun to come out with me in the canoe. I’d wake him up now but he’s still in a deep sleep.

  To be honest, last night I was glad of the space. A lot has gone on in the last twenty-four hours and I needed to think about all of it. I’m engaged to Shaun. I can’t stop grinning from ear to ear every time I remember that. What we did. How he makes me feel.

  And I’ve found ‘Daddy.’ Cobra King. Chief gang leader. Drug dealer. A man who’d abducts girls for money. A man prepared to kill. Has killed.

  Tane’s hardly the kind of guy you’d want your boyfriend to meet. And yet there they were, the three of them, getting on like a house on fire.

  It’s a lot to get my head around. I crumb up the crusts of a stale loaf of bread and slip on my sandals by the door. What with everything going on last night, we forgot to feed the chooks.

  Is Tane Matene the kind of daddy I want in my life?

  And do I get to choose?

  ◆◆◆

  Irish was woken up by his mobile vibrating against his hip.

  It was light but it felt early.

  Disoriented, he took a second to remember where he was. In the barn. Waiting. Shit! He’d slept for too long.

  And he’d missed the call.

  He pressed reply. It was Pete.

  “Connor? Thank God!”

  “What? Why are you calling my mobile? It’s not secure.”

  “It’s too late for that. They’ve raided the stores.”

  He felt his blood draining from his face as Pete continued. Millions of pounds worth of top-grade cocaine. Seized.

  “Fuck!”

  “Exactly. And three of our offshore accounts have been frozen. I can’t work out how they’ve found them.”

  “So, what do we do?” Irish asked, trying to recover his composure.

  “I won’t ask what’s possessed you to take off to New Zealand but I need your arse back here, right now. If you don’t, you’re not gonna have a business to come back to. Everything on the ground needs to be cleaned up and closed down. They’ll follow the supply chain and it's only you with the links to the dealers.”

  “Alright. Don’t panic. I’ve a little business to attend to but I’m booked onto the evening flight outta here. And I can make some calls.”

  Irish picked up the shotgun beside him and made for the ladder, leaving the long bowie knife by the mattress.

  There was no time for slicing. He needed to end this now.

  ◆◆◆

  Shaun woke with a start from his deep sleep.

  The scream was deafening.

  Claire?

  His hands frantically felt the coldness of the space in the bed beside him. She’d been up for a while. And that scream was definitely hers.

  Bounding from the bed, he jumped into his shorts and grabbed the loaded rifle by the bed.

  Where was she?

  He knew it had been too easy. They’d been caught off guard.

  “Claire?”

  “Boss?” The call came through the house from one of the men at the bottom of the stairs. Tane and a sleepy Ari appeared on the upstairs landing a few seconds later.

  “What’s going on?” Ari asked.

  A gruff voice from below.

  “He’s got a gun to her head.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Out front.”

  “Sion Edwards?” The loud shout came from outside.

  There was no mistaking the scouse accent. It was Irish. And he sounded pumped up. Volatile. Shaun’s stomach lurched. In his professional opinion, he sounded liable to shoot her.

  “Get here,” he screamed towards the house again. “Or I’ll blow her fuckin’ brains out, you hear me?”

  King stared at Shaun.

  “What you gonna do?”

  Shaun chewed his lip. The gang leader was asking him?

  “Gimme a second. Let me take a look.”

  Nearing his bedroom window, he moved the shutter so he could stay out of view.

  The bastard. He’d got Claire kneeling on the lake shoreline with two barrels pointed into the base of her skull. An instant kill.

  His heart melted. She was shaking and making small whimpering sounds, trying to keep it together. But she was terrified. Claire!

  He went back to the landing. He needed to think straight.

  “I’ve got a clear shot but it’s too risky. If he touches the trigger, she’s dead.”

  “Call the police?” Ari suggested.

  “Yeah... But, what about in the meantime?” Shaun replied, “The guy’s about to pop.”

  His eyes met Tane’s.

  They both knew the only thing left to do. But who would go?

  “Can you cover me?” Shaun asked him, holding out the rifle towards Tane.

  A big hand covered his, holding it and the rifle firm in the space between them.

  “You’re the snipper,” Tane’s voice rumbled. “You need to do your job. Save us both.”

  Shaun put his free hand on the big man’s shoulder. Tane was right.

  Shaun nodded at Tane.

  “Be careful.”

  Slipping on a black t-shirt and baseball cap, he edged back to the window and got into position in the shadow of the shutter with his loaded gun.

  Above Irish’s head, the bedroom window slowly opened, little-by-little, inch-by-inch. Wide enough to reveal the black barrel of his rifle.

  Shaun’s eye drilled down the scope, focussing on the Scouser’s head, consciously, desperately trying to block all his fears for Claire from his mind.

  If he was going to do this, he needed to be the sniper again. No matter how much he wanted to rage, to blow the guy’s head off. He needed to shut all of that out.

  Slow down his pulse and breathe… In… Then out… In… Then out… Line him up… And wait… Wait for that one moment, the sweet spot, when he was in the cross-hairs… and she was safely away.

  “Irish!”

  The thunderous bellow rolled from the lounge windows as Tane Matene, Cobra King, burst out onto the decking. Shoulders broad, head high.


  Irish shot agitated glances between the girl and the huge beast of a man squaring up to him.

  “What the f..?”

  His voice trailed as he finally took in the size and spectacle before him.

  A warrior, towering tall, arms folded in a warlike stance. Behind him, two built giants pointed their rifles his way.

  “Let her go.”

  Tane Matene took a defiant and deliberate step towards Claire.

  The Adam's apple on Irish’s skinny neck bobbed. What was he going to do? Shoot her and get killed himself? Or hold out for Edwards? Use his brains, try a negotiation?

  “King?”

  Shaun heard the Liverpudlian’s voice cracking. His finger was poised. The sight was lined up solidly in place. But the Scouser’s gun stayed jammed resolutely to Claire’s head.

  No shot.

  Another giant step. The gang leader’s shadow stretched forward. It was now touching Claire’s knees.

  She looked up shakily towards her father.

  Irish twitched.

  “We had a deal, King. A feckin’ deal. She’s mine. And so is Sion Edwards.”

  “Let my girl go.”

  “Your girl?” Irish asked edgily.

  Another step. Tane was ground level, five feet away from him.

  “Stay where you are, or I’ll do her, right now.”

  The gun wavered for a second away from Claire towards her father.

  Shaun’s finger poised, ready to squeeze.

  Too late. The gun swung back to the base of her head.

  Dammit! No shot.

  “Let her go!”

  The bellowed order rolled around the wind and the shoreline in the stillness.

  From the bedroom window, through the scope, Irish’s body shifted a little to the left. He was wobbling. He was gone.

  Shaun got ready again.

  “Give me Sion Edwards.”

  Irish’s voice sounded reedy and dry.

  Tane stood tall and Shaun waited for the next move.

  Would the warrior come and drag him down there? Swap him for his daughter?

  He was prepared to go.

  But Tane stood still, unarmed, staring steadily. His physical power slowly sapping the Scouser’s strength. But a stalemate, nevertheless.

  Shaun had one more option. Risky, but he could see the gun man’s nerve ebbing away.

  Slowly, Shaun swung the bedroom window wide open. In full view, he stood in the sunlight, Irish centred in the gun’s scope.

  “I’m right here.”

  His voice carried down onto the ground below.

  Startled, Irish moved.

  Swinging his shotgun up wildly towards Shaun like he was shooting grouse rising from the moor, he suddenly reared back as Tane Matene threw himself in a death leap onto him.

  Triggers were pulled.

  The bolt action 0.22 delivered its bullet to the target’s head, the hole perfectly centred between his eyes.

  Claire screamed.

  “Dad!”

  On the ground before her lay two bodies.

  One dead.

  The other, lifeless; the blood seeping from his blasted arm into the sand.

  His blown-off hand, fingers curled, lay discarded a few feet away at the water’s edge.

  Epilogue

  ---------✸---------

  “Nau mai, Haere mai.”

  The still air is filled with the strong, powerful Karanga call from the small black-lipped lady in front of the red-carved marae. She invites the guests to step forward into the holy meeting house of her ancestors.

  Surrounded by my new family, I smile nervously at my koroua and kuia. My grandparents. They’re so lovely. I’ve stayed with them quite often, and I love to spend time cooking with my kuia. And she’s made a special manuka honey balm for my scar. It’s helped a little but I’m not fooling myself, the scar is with me forever. I’ve made my peace with it.

  Kuia calls me, ‘Her lost one’. Her two daughters, Amiria and Areta, my aunties, are much younger than Tane and Ari. They stand beside her now and I can tell that she’s proud of them. A doctor and a lawyer.

  Ari stands alongside Shaun. And towering over me, at my other side is my father, ex-gang leader, Tane Matene.

  I place my hand on the crook of his handless arm. I can tell that it’s a big day for him too.

  The crowd squashes into the marae and there are too many people for me to spot faces. It’s a big blur, but I know that Frank and Celia are in there somewhere.

  It was touch and go if Frank would make it at one point, he’d lost so much blood. Physically, he’s recovering well. But, he’s not been back into the store, even though it’s been over a year. They’ve been travelling a lot. Italy, France, and they met up with Christos in Crete.

  A manager’s running the camping shop until it’s sold. Frank says he’ll not miss it, one jot. Plus, it means he has more time teaching Shaun and our lake lodge visitors how to fish like a Kiwi.

  “Dad?” I whisper in Tane’s ear. “We’ve been wanting to ask you something?”

  Shaun and I’ve been discussing this, and we really want to do it. Now seems the right time.

  “Can we take your name? Cobain means nothing. Your family are everything to us.”

  The big man breathes heavily, kisses me on the cheek and gives a nod of consent to Shaun.

  “I’d be honoured,” he says. “I thank God every day that you found me.”

  My heart fills my chest. All the things Tane has been and has become. Professional athlete, hard-nut criminal, an amputee. And now, after six months of training, an inspirational speaker. He’s been going around schools talking about life choices. I am deeply proud to call him my dad. When I used to think about his name on my birth certificate, fantasise about who my father was, I never imagined this.

  Shaun squeezes my hand.

  “You look so beautiful, Claire.”

  And a little bewildered by the words in this strange language before we step up to take our vows.

  “We’ve got this,” Shaun says softly to me, feeling my nerves.

  We place kākahu, capes of feathers, around each other’s shoulders and come together in a hongi, our noses touching in exquisite silence. Man and wife.

  There are no rings. Instead, two matching intricate designs swirled in black lie over our ring fingers, pointing upwards across the back of our hands towards our hearts. Our commitment etched indelibly onto our skin.

  After the ceremony, the guests line up and press their noses to ours, welcoming us into the family.

  Later, there’ll be more. Much more, with singing and dancing, hakas and hāngi; traditional Māori celebrations.

  The line of family finally dwindles.

  “Mr Matene,” I say with a grin, gazing up into his deep blue eyes, our first moment alone.

  “Mrs Matene.”

  He leans down, his lips meeting mine, then kissing me deeply.

  “Uh-hum!”

  Somewhere a throat is cleared very loudly.

  “Err...sorry to interrupt.” The voice is British and male.

  We pull apart.

  “We weren’t sure what to do about the noses thing.”

  “Oh my God! Annie. Jac. Jason…”

  “And this is Luke,” Jason adds.

  “Luke. Great to meet you.”

  Shaun embraces Jason’s partner.

  “You’re here!”

  I hug each of our friends in turn.

  “But...How? I thought you couldn’t come… and where’s little Seren?”

  “Callista’s got her,” Annie grins, “No way could we miss this.”

  “And you’ve been here the whole time?”

  Annie nods.

  “We were at the back, in case Seren started joining in.”

  Callista, Jac’s mother, rushes up towards us.

  “Claire, my darling. Congratulations!”

  She winks at me.

  “I knew it wouldn’t take you long to find him.”
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  Her long grey dreadlocked hair is held up in a batik print silk scarf, her fine grey linen dress hugging her slender, willowy body.

  I can’t help myself, I snuggle Annie and Jac’s baby girl in my arms.

  “She’s so adorable.”

  “Who’s that?”

  Callista’s eyes wander towards the tall tattooed man standing across from them on the other side of the marae.

  “Callista, let me introduce you.”

  Taking her breath away, Tane Matene leans down, a little shyly if I’m not mistaken and presses his nose to hers. They move apart but their eyes are still on each other.

  The look I give Annie makes her giggle.

  “What about her partner, Sam?”

  I blow a kiss on the baby’s cheek.

  “Split up a year ago. Too straight-laced.”

  I can see that. Not everyone can handle Callista’s energy and love for life.

  It’s later that evening when Annie finds me.

  Jac has taken Seren to try and get her to sleep, and the party’s in full swing.

  We’ve been eating delicious smoked meat and vegetables from the hāngi and there’s a big bonfire on the beach in front of the marae.

  “I love this place,” Annie announces.

  I don’t disagree. Our new home. My new family.

  “You know, there are things I need to tell you, Claire,” she begins.

  I look at her warily.

  “Mum wrote me a letter a few days before she died. Callista gave it to me the day you left on your travels.”

  “What did it say?”

  “Everything about what happened that night my father died. But you know all about that by now, right?”

  “Shaun told me about what your mother did. I’m so sorry, Annie.”

  Annie stares out at the full moon, rising high above the sea.

  “She was brave. I don’t blame her for what she did. She stood up to him, even though she was dying.”

  I’m not sure what to say so I stroke her shoulder.

  “Shaun covered it up.”

  A shiver runs through me. Is she angry about that? Does she blame Shaun?

  “What’ve you done with the letter? Did you take it to the police?”

  “I burned it. I reckon what’s done is done.”

  Shaun wanders over towards us and takes my hand.

  “So, what do you think?”