‘You’re not a complete useless cunt. You can pour a fucking drink.’
She roared with laughter, tossing the glass back at him. Colin had stood and watched as she had laughed herself stupid, wearing herself out.
It didn’t take long for her eyes to close; the drugs working almost instantly. She was out cold. Splayed out in her chair in front of the television she was finally quiet. Finally silenced.
That’s where he’d left her.
Pulling the duvet up around him, he stared down the length of his bed, over to where he’d dragged the dresser to cover the small doorway at the end of the wall.
The hole.
Colin had wanted to board it up, but mother would never allow it. He knew that she wanted it visible on purpose. Enjoying the discomfort it gave him.
All those memories he had of being locked away in there.
It was another one of her mind games, another way of her getting inside his head. Of controlling him.
Only, he had found a way to control her now. He’d wished he’d thought of drugging her sooner. Keep her sedated while he went about his business – tended to his secrets. He liked that. The thought of having something now that no one could take from him, not even his mother.
It made him feel powerful.
Lying back down, he buried his head in his pillow, smiling to himself as he closed his eyes.
He wasn’t frightened anymore. Not now.
If the nightmares came again, Colin Jeffries would be ready for them.
19
‘Lena? Are you okay?’
Pushing open the toilet door, Kush grimaced at the smell. Even on a good day, after he’d mopped the piss-soaked vinyl floor and poured bleach down the toilet bowls, the place still reeked. Nothing he ever did seemed to mask the stench of customer’s stale piss, but this smell was something else altogether.
Placing his hand over his mouth he fought not to gag as he made his way past the two empty cubicles.
He saw her then. Crouched on the floor below the sink; her face white with sheer panic.
She had Roza strewn across her lap, her dress covered in diarrhoea and vomit.
‘Lena?’
‘Help me. Roza’s sick, really sick, please… ’
Retching violently, Roza brought up the contents of her stomach – green watery bile spilling out all over the floor.
‘I can’t stop it for her, Kush. It just keeps coming… ’
Patting the child’s back hard, Lena looked distraught as Roza’s retching was quickly replaced with gagging; a thick trail of mucus streaming from the child’s mouth.
‘Shit.’
Rushing to Lena’s side, Kush crouched down on his knees next to her, his instincts taking over as he took the infant from her, tilting Roza upside down.
Gently he pressed her chest and stomach against his knee, as he rubbed Roza’s back in small circular motions, increasing his pressure. But it was no use, the child was choking; her face puce as she made a horrific gurgling sound. Sliding his finger inside Roza’s mouth, Kush hooked the substance, pulling it out in long stringy clumps of phlegm.
Still the child struggled to breathe. She was gagging for air, and he was running out of time.
‘Go and get the phone, Lena, it’s on the bar. You need to dial 999. Ask for an ambulance. We need to get Roza to the hospital.’
Sitting deadly still, her eyes not leaving her baby, Lena could hear Kush’s voice, the alarm in his tone, but she couldn’t move. Her legs felt like they were stuck to the ground.
‘Lena! Go now!’ Kush shouted. His voice suddenly commanding, breaking the trance. ‘We’re running out of time.’
Rising to her feet, Lena was moving towards the door, grabbing at the handle, but everything felt like it was in slow motion. Like she wasn’t really here.
‘Call 999. Tell them that we are at the King’s Arms, Bridge Road, Battersea. Hurry.’ Kush’s voice echoed behind her.
Running through the bar, Lena repeated the address over and over inside her head as she made a grab for the phone – desperately trying to focus her eyes on the digits – her fingers stumbling frantically as she pressed at the numbers.
‘What are you doing?’ Ramiz was on his feet now. Seeing the look of alarm on his young wife’s face; sensing her urgency as she grabbed at the phone. ‘What’s going on?’
Ignoring her husband, Lena pressed the handset to her ear and could hear the tone change as the phone began to ring.
Ramiz was walking towards her. She could see the gun down at his side; his hand curled tightly around it. Korab was up on his feet too now, aware that something bad must have happened.
‘It’s Roza. She’s sick. We need to get her to hospital. She can’t breathe properly. She’s choking.’ Lena was breathless now too; the panic still thick in her voice.
‘No! No hospitals, Lena!’ Ramiz made a grab for the phone.
Ducking out of his way, Lena stepped back, out of his grasp.
Her husband towered over her small frame; he could have easily overpowered her, but with the bar between them he was just out of her reach.
‘Put the phone down, Lena. The hospital is not an option. People will ask questions; they’ll take Roza from us. They’ll send us home.’
Glancing down at the gun in his hand she saw his fingers twitch, before she returned his gaze, noting that his cold eyes held not so much as a flicker of concern for Roza.
‘I cannot just sit back and do nothing, Ramiz. She will die.’ Lena spoke with determination. Defiant. She couldn’t get the image of Roza choking out of her head.
Ramiz would not stand in her way, not this time.
‘You want to shoot me, Ramiz, then go ahead, shoot me, but I am getting my baby to a hospital. I will not let her die.’
A voice on the end of the phone answered then; the relief causing fresh tears to stream down Lena’s cheeks as she blurted out the address she had memorised.
‘I need an ambulance. Please, my baby is choking. She’s sick.’
She stared at Ramiz as she spoke. Her eyes boring into his. Challenging him with every word as she recited the address.
It was done now. He was too late to try and stop her.
‘How long, Lena?’ Kush ran from the toilets into the main bar, his voice full of urgency. Roza’s tiny body lying limp in his arms – he looked petrified.
‘The ambulance is on its way… ’ Lena said, her voice barely a whisper as she whimpered at the sight of Roza’s drooping body; her child’s eyes staring vacantly ahead.
Lena could barely talk. Roza looked almost lifeless.
She could hear the faint sound of the operator, still talking, still giving her instructions at the end of the line, but Lena was no longer listening.
She couldn’t take her eyes off her baby, off Roza’s wet, clammy skin. The raspy sound of her breathing, shallow, wheezy.
‘Hold on for Néné, Roza! You’re going to be okay,’ Lena cried. Then looking at Kush for reassurance, she added, ‘she will be okay won’t she?’
Kush looked down, keeping his eyes focused on Roza as he gently patted her back; anything, so that he wouldn’t have to look Lena in the eyes and lie.
Roza was almost lifeless now. He could feel her starting to slip away, sprawled in his arms, her breathing laboured.
Kush wasn’t holding out much hope.
20
Aaron Miller was pissed.
Close to paralytic, in fact.
He’d only been in the firm for a month and already he’d had the privilege of experiencing one of his cousin’s legendary parties that the other men had been raving about. Working in the firm was hard graft most of the time; the risks were big, but the rewards, judging by the huge tits on the busty barmaid in front of him, were plentiful, and Aaron was intent on enjoying every last second of tonight.
This really was the fucking life. Though now, clutching onto the bar next to him, he realised that perhaps he’d psyched himself up a little too early. Fuelled
by whisky and many rails of cocaine he could barely stand up. Still, at least he knew how to get the party started, which was more than he could say for this bunch of miserable bastards.
‘Right?’ he slurred to the three men standing next to him. ‘Whose round is it?’
‘Are you going to ask that every time you order a drink?’
Jonjo grunted as he flashed Smithy and Ross a warning look not to react. Aaron Miller was a first-class cunt. How that fucking degenerate that was now propped up at the bar could be related to men like Joshua and Vincent Harper was beyond anyone’s comprehension. ‘It’s a free fucking bar. You don’t need to keep making a fucking joke about getting the drinks in.’
‘Fuck me mate!’ Aaron slurred, ‘You not heard of those things they have these days called a sense of humour? You should look into getting yourself one… ’
Smithy and Ross had their heads down, concentrating on their pints as Jonjo took a deep breath and tried to calm his temper. Making allowances for Aaron because he was Joshua and Vincent’s cousin was one thing, but having to babysit the cocky little twat was quite another, and he was really starting to lose patience with this obnoxious prick.
‘Don’t you think that you need to slow down a bit, son? You can barely stand up.’ Speaking through gritted teeth, Jonjo could see that Aaron was already half-cut; the kid was a lightweight. It wasn’t even eleven o’clock yet and he was already pushing him to his limits with the cocky tirade of bullshit he was spewing. It was only a matter of time before he really pissed someone off, and tonight, Jonjo wasn’t in the mood to be that someone.
‘Slow down? Bollocks to that! I ain’t even got started yet.’ Aaron smirked as he turned away from the group, and then right on cue slipped and lost his balance, leaning against the bar for support. Dragging himself back up, he added, ‘problem with you lot is you’re fucking past it. Bunch of boring OLD wankers… ’
Downing the last dregs of his whisky Aaron missed his mouth completely, the drink splattering down the front of his new crisp white shirt.
‘Oh fuck it!’ he groaned angrily as he wiped the stain, then, spotting the barmaid, he slammed his glass down on the bar in front of her.
‘All right, darling, chuck another one in there for me will ya?’
Turning to the group of men behind him he shouted, ‘Here lads, look at the bristols on this one eh?’
Ignored by the group of men, Aaron turned back to the barmaid.
‘Can I help you?’ Misty asked sarcastically, noting that Aaron was so engrossed in the sight of her breasts that he probably didn’t realise she was actually attached to them.
‘The question is… can I help you?’ Aaron grinned, Misty’s comment going completely over his head. ‘You play your cards right, treacle, and this could be your lucky night!’
‘Oh yeah, and why’s that then? Gonna win a fiver on a scratch card, am I?’ Misty smiled, not wanting to show the customer how boring his chat-up line was. She’d heard them all before, a million times over.
‘A fiver?’ Aaron raised his arms purposely, trying to make a point, as if he was really something special. ‘Er, hello, you’ve just hit the fucking jackpot love!’
‘No offence, lovey, but if winning you is akin to winning the jackpot then I’d rather just stick to making my own luck and live in poverty, if it’s all the same.’ Misty grinned at the drunk punter as he swayed unsteadily on his feet. ‘Thanks for the offer though.’
Undeterred, Aaron grinned.
‘Ohhh I like it! Playing hard to get are ya?’
Misty was bored now. Either this bloke was desperately trying to save face by ignoring her put-down, or her sarcasm had been completely lost on him. Going by how pissed the bloke was, Misty reckoned it was the latter.
‘Ignore this one’s banter, darling,’ Jonjo interrupted loudly. ‘He’s not used to being in the company of ladies, you know what I’m saying?’ he added with a wink.
‘Oi! What do you mean I ain’t used to being in the company of ladies? I ain’t no fucking bender if that’s what you’re implying… ’ Aaron slurred again now, disgusted with the innuendo that Jonjo had just chucked out about being some kind of shirt-lifter.
‘Now who can’t take a joke huh? Get him a glass of water will you Misty darling? Hold the ice though, he can’t handle the hard stuff.’
Aaron gritted his teeth as the group of men continued to laugh at his expense. The girl behind the bar too. His colleagues were really starting to piss him off now. He might be tipsy but he wasn’t fucking blind. He’d seen the looks that had passed between them. Raising their eyes at him, whispering about him behind his back.
All he wanted to do was have a bit of fun. Fucking old cunts, the lot of them.
They might all want to stand around like a boring bunch of bastards, but he was here tonight to party. With or without this lot.
‘Anyway I don’t know what you’re looking at, Jonjo; I can’t see any ladies around here. All I see are fucking slags. Wall to wall slappers putting it about and then playing hard to get at the last second. What’s the matter, love, you not interested because I haven’t offered you any money? How’s a tenner sound? That’s about how much you and your gammy snatch is worth.’ Aaron laughed to himself now.
Jonjo was vexed then. It was all well and good having a bit of banter, but Aaron was being blatantly disrespectful now.
‘Oi, watch your fucking mouth!’ The warning tone in Jonjo’s voice was clear to everyone around them. He’d heard enough. Aaron Miller was a fucking parasite. The sort of bloke that went through life hanging off other people’s success. Taking whatever he could, but giving absolutely nothing back. The kid was too cocky for his own good; he had no respect.
‘Watch my fucking mouth? I don’t fucking think so. I know you’re getting on a bit, Jonjo, but you ain’t my fucking dad, mate!’ Aaron laughed now, but it was clear to everyone listening that he was getting riled.
How dare they cunt him off, right to his face. Looking him up and down like he was a prize prick. If he wanted a drink he’d fucking well have one.
‘Don’t be shouting your orders at me, Jonjo. We ain’t at work now you know.’
Who the fuck did Jonjo think he was? Just because he had worked under the bloke for the past four weeks it didn’t mean that the bloke fucking owned him. Did he think that he could talk to him like a cunt and that Aaron would just swallow it? That he’d to be all, ‘Yes sir, No sir, three fucking bags full sir.’ Aaron had a free run to do whatever the fuck he pleased. Jonjo could go fuck himself.
‘Watch your lip!’ Jonjo warned, before turning back around and joining his mates. He’d had enough of Aaron’s gob now. If the bloke spoke to him one more time tonight, he was going to fucking well lamp him one.
Seeing Jonjo turn his back on him, Aaron laughed. This was the kind of power that Aaron had – even Jonjo, who was a proper hard bastard, wouldn’t be so stupid as to pick on Joshua and Vincent Harper’s flesh and blood. Being the Harpers’ cousin had given Aaron more than an in – it had given him free rein to do exactly as he pleased too and this lot would just have to fucking lump it. It didn’t matter that he, Joshua and Vincent weren’t particularly close. Just the fact they were related was enough to make people wary of him.
‘As I was saying, stick another one in there will ya. Get one for yourself an’ all.’ Pulling out a wad of fifty pound notes, Aaron beamed at the girl.
Misty pursed her lips, unimpressed.
‘No ta! I’m good, thanks.’ Refusing the offer of a drink, Misty filled a fresh glass with water and plonked it down on the bar in front of him. ‘Like Jonjo said, I think you’ve had enough.’
‘I don’t fucking think so.’
Pissed off that this tart was not only turning down his offer of buying her a drink, but she actually thought she could tell him what to do, Aaron pushed the drink back towards her, sending it flying. The glass tipped over, shattering into tiny pieces – the water splashing down the front of Misty’s dress.
‘Oops, don’t realise my own strength sometimes. I’ll have to watch that. Wouldn’t want anyone to get hurt.’ Aaron glared now, trying to look sinister.
‘I’m sure.’
Rolling her eyes, Misty was trying really hard to keep her cool as she picked up the shards of glass from the bar. These men were all Mr Harper’s business associates; she hadn’t expected any grief tonight, but this bloke was trouble.
Misty could see it coming a mile off. Her guard was well and truly up now, and she wasn’t the only one keeping Aaron firmly on the radar.
Tyrell Jones, the club’s head of security, was at the bar in seconds; his expression thunderous.
He’d been watching Aaron Miller for the last ten minutes. This bloke had clearly drunk way more whisky than he could handle, and he was getting lairier with each glass. Tyrell could tell the bloke was goading for a bit of trouble, and if he wasn’t careful he would be only too happy to serve some up to him.
‘Everything all right here, Misty?’ Tyrell’s voice boomed over the bar.
Aaron bristled.
The burly black man was standing right behind him: so close that Aaron could feel his hot stinking breath on the back of his neck. He was making his presence felt. Letting Aaron know that he was watching him. It was a threat.
Well, Aaron wasn’t even going to give this prick the satisfaction of acknowledging him; instead he kept his eyes on Misty. Watching her as she replied.
‘No trouble babe, trust me, I can more than handle this one.’
Aaron smarted as Misty grinned.
The cheeky bitch was having a dig at him. Still cunting him off just because there was some big fucking gorilla backing her up. He was fuming at the girl’s blatant audacity but knowing that Tyrell was still standing behind him, just inches away, Aaron didn’t react. Instead he kept his eyes focused forward, pretending he hadn’t even registered the narky bitch’s comment.
‘Yeah well, any problems, you just give me a shout. Okay?’ Emphasising the word ‘problems’ Tyrell sauntered off.
Clearing up the mess, Misty rung out the cloth and wiped the water off the bar before getting a clean glass out. She could feel the man’s eyes burning into her.
The Taken Page 14
