His main worry was Reggie and what chaos his interference with these dealers south of the water could cause. He wouldn’t be able to tell Reggie what he planned to do. But surely Reggie would find out?
As Aiden stormed back to the estate, his disposition was one of deep rage brought on by the unfairness of his uncle’s request. Yet, as angry as he was with Sid, he was gutted that his uncle had practically written his own death certificate on account of this little crew that seemed to be making a very large impression in the East.
No one threatened a Foster! Aiden knew his name held no influence over the likes of the KKKs, and this riled him all the more. He wanted more than anything to make a name for himself and have people like Kamal eating out of the palm of his hand. Reggie was an influential man, there was no doubt about that, and his association with him had, so far, been his making, but when all was said and done, Reggie Driscoll was merely a dealer. It was a fruitful business, and it could earn you a fairly high ranking in their society, but Aiden wanted more than that. He wanted his fingers in numerous lucrative pies. He wanted to be at the top of the tree, not just an influence inside his borough. He wanted to be known and feared across the whole of the city, and, today, finding out that his uncle was living on borrowed time, that Sid had come to him for help, made him even more determined to realise that aspiration.
When he hit the edge of the Carlton estate, his wonder about whether he could be any more pissed off was answered when he saw Gina getting out of Jason Ryan’s classic racing-green Mini Cooper.
Chapter fifteen
Aiden left the scene before him and raced up to his flat and up to his bedroom. There was only one emotion he was feeling now, and that was pure and unreserved rage. Locating his chest of drawers, he opened the top drawer and pulled out a pen knife, hidden beneath his underwear. He left the room. Taking the stairs, he stuffed the knife into the back pocket of his jeans, then left the flat and headed back onto the street below. He peered up the road to see that Jason’s Mini Cooper and its occupants were no longer there.
Picking up his pace, he left the estate and within minutes found himself on the approach of a row of garages that abutted the estate and belonged to the residents of Shoreditch Park Gardens across the way. There were six garages in total, yet only one was unlocked and open. He approached the open garage, his hand instinctively running over his back pocket, feeling the shape of his knife.
Stepping into the opening, he watched Jason pull himself out of his car and basked in the look of apprehension on Jason’s face when he finally realised he was standing there.
As Aiden stared at him, he recalled the sight of Gina’s exquisite and sexy-as-hell legs swinging out of the passenger side of his Mini Cooper, and the way he pulled her close and pressed his lips on hers. It made him feel angrier than ever. Gina was his. Whether he wanted her long-term or not, everyone knew he was bedding her, and as far as he was concerned that was tantamount to ownership.
“What do you want?” Jason asked with more confidence than he actually felt. Having Aiden Foster, known enforcer, hunt you down would put the willies up anyone, and Jason immediately began to wrack his brain to think of whether he owed anyone money.
Aiden leant against the wall of the garage and stared at the wall opposite him, not looking at Jason now. Pulling down the zip of his jacket, he retrieved a pre-rolled joint from the inside pocket and lit it up. Jason slammed his car door shut and stared at Aiden to see him nonchalantly blowing smoke rings into the air. He gulped. “Has someone told you I owe them money?” Jason asked, trying to fathom why on earth Aiden was accosting him. Again, Aiden did not answer him, but continued to draw longs pulls on his joint and fill the garage with its strong herby scent.
As a loaded silence grew between them, Jason was developing an uncontrollable amount of trepidation. Wracking his brain still, he idly wondered whether this had anything to do with Gina and, if just to break the silence, he asked him as much.
Aiden finally turned his head to face him, and though he was silhouetted by the contrast of light coming in through the garage door and the darkness of the garage inside, Jason could still distinguish the hardness in his expression. “What did you two do today?” he finally said, taking yet another drag and exhaling loudly before Jason replied, “Nothing.”
Aiden began to tut and shook his head theatrically. “Liar, liar,” he muttered then flicked his joint out onto the gravel pathway in front of the garage. Suddenly, he stood upright, the unexpected motion causing Jason to start. Aiden noticed and smirked to himself. Turning his full body round to face Jason, he began to bite the side of his thumb. Frankly, he was summing up how he was going to slit the cunt’s throat in the most discreet way. His first murder, and he hadn’t had any time to plan it properly. This was an unexpected turn of events. He was acting on a whim. He was acting on his temper, as always, but this time he wasn’t afraid. It was ironic that not an hour before he had been asked by his own uncle to help him wipe some people off the face of the earth, and here he was about to do the very same to this menace that had proven to be an inconvenient hitch in his regimented life. Jason had attempted to trump him on two occasions now – first the cars, and now Gina – the cars being (and Gina a probability of being) vital assets in his master plan for himself. Jason was an ant that needed to be squashed and, more than ever before, Aiden wanted to be the boot that squashed him.
The atmosphere inside the garage had quickly descended into something thick and impenetrable, and Jason could almost taste Aiden’s contempt. Aiden’s hand moved to his back pocket. Jason didn’t miss the gesture but he assumed that he was merely locating a packet of cigarettes. He wouldn’t have guessed that Aiden had a knife hidden there, and only in his nightmares would he have imagined that he would actually use it. As he lay on the cold stone floor, his head bathing in a pool of his own blood, he realised in his semi-conscious state that Aiden Foster was a lunatic, like many had said before, which he had been just too arrogant to believe.
Aiden jumped the fence at the back of the garages and walked briskly down the alleyway. Pulling off his jacket, he wiped his blade on it and dropped it back into his pocket. Stopping halfway, he kicked dead leaves, shrubs, and a couple of takeaway chip wrappers he’d located close by into a mound on top of the grass boarder lining the pathway. He crouched down and lit the wrappers and watched as they burned, taking the leaves and shrubs with them to create a small fire. He glanced around him, and when he was satisfied that no one was there, he held his jacket over the flames until it caught alight and began to burn enough for him to drop it onto the fire. He stood for what seemed like a lifetime and watched the flames lick the bloodied material until the whole jacket had been burned into tiny ash particles, which blew away on the slight breeze that drifted down the secluded alleyway. Satisfied that there was no trace of material left, he turned and continued down the path.
Back out on the street, he headed towards the estate. When he got to the first tower, he entered it and double-stepped his way up to the eleventh floor. He knocked at flat number thirty-two.
When the door opened, he was greeted with a wondrous stare. “Who are you?” the young woman breathed, clearly affected by the vision on her doorstep.
Aiden grinned knowingly. “Aiden Foster. I’m delivering for Reggie Driscoll.”
He eyed the girl before him with interest. She was around his age, but he didn’t recognise her. She was petite with mousy brown hair and grey eyes. She wasn’t bad-looking, though her face was caked in make-up, and he idly wondered whether, once you’d scraped off the inch layer of foundation and got to the flesh of her boat race, she would be as ugly as an old boot, as his Nana used to say.
The girl nodded shyly, and stepping aside, she gestured for him to go inside. He didn’t miss the fact that she eyed him up as he passed her. “Craig in?” he asked confidently.
“Yeah, he’s upstairs…” she replied. Now she was almost batting her eyelids at him.
“Craig your f
ella?”
The girl smiled bashfully. “No, ’course not. He’s me dad.”
‘Who’s that, Chrissie?’ A voice came from above.
“Special delivery,” she called up the stairs.
‘Money’s on top of the television…’ the voice confirmed.
Chrissie flicked her head towards the living room and Aiden followed closely behind her. She swiped the money off of the top of the television set and handed it to him. Aiden reached out and rather than take the money, he grasped her hand and wouldn’t let go. “What you doin’?” she gasped.
Aiden shot her a salacious grin and she was unable to prevent her cheeks from blushing. He pursed his full lips and regarded her intently, as if she was something delicious to eat. “Fancy a walk?”
She pulled her hand away slowly, allowing Aiden to take the money from her. “Yeah, alright…”
They had got to the street and a couple of hundred yards away from the tower block before Aiden pulled Chrissie into a nearby underpass, hitched up her skirt and took her against the graffiti sprayed wall.
Chapter sixteen
Gina burst into The Stag and stormed up to the bar. “Is he in?” Damien, who was behind the bar, stared at her blankly. He wasn’t about to get involved with whatever Gina had beef with now. “Is he in?” she snapped, her voice unbearably loud to Damien, who liked to attempt to keep the peace in his own pub, even if it was filled with villains on a daily basis.
“You looking for me by any chance, G? Just I don’t think the driver of the fucking underground heard you?”
Gina turned and glared at Aiden, who had appeared from the other side of the bar with a pint of Stella in one hand and a cigarette in the other. He looked smarter than usual, in a white shirt over smart jeans – new jeans, new shirt. As he strolled over, she craned her head to see if there was a girl sitting in the corner with him. There wasn’t.
“Can I have a word?” she demanded, exasperated and yet longing to see him in equal measure.
Aiden sighed and made his way to the back of the pub. It was a private room that Reggie frequented to discuss business with his associates and, consequently, Damien allowed Aiden access to too. Closing the door, Aiden turned to Gina with raised eyebrows. “What?” he asked bluntly.
Gina placed her hands on her hips and spat indignantly, “Christine Stuart?”
“Who?”
“The slag who lives in thirty-two Barratt Place!”
“I haven’t got a fucking clue what you’re on about, G,” Aiden replied impatiently. “But if you don’t stop talking in riddles, I’m off!”
“Christine Stuart, the girl you fucked last week in a fucking alleyway of all places!”
Aiden stared at her for a long moment then smirked. Oh, that was her name. “It was an underpass, actually,” he replied, shrugging nonchalantly.
Gina was stumped as to what to say next. Aiden’s lack of interest in her feelings should be something she was used to by now, but every time she fooled herself into thinking he cared, and every time he made it clear that he didn’t, it crushed her all over again.
She was embarrassed now as she stared at him with wide eyes, beseeching him to express a modicum of respect for her. But she and Aiden had never been exclusive. She knew she wasn’t the only girl in his life and she accepted that because she had to. But this situation was different, or so she told herself. Christine had been a mate of hers. They used to play stuck in the mud and hopscotch out in the street together as kids. Admittedly, they’d drifted apart during their school days but that wasn’t the point. She had been humiliated by his involvement with her old friend and she didn’t hold her temper very well when she felt she had been wronged.
Aiden’s eyebrows were raised, waiting for Gina to explain why the fuck she should be getting on her high horse about him being with someone else when he had just recently discovered she had still been seeing Jason-fucking-Ryan. He had always made it clear to her that he wasn’t the type to commit. He used his father as an excuse for his frivolous attitude towards women. ‘Look at the way that cunt treats me mum. What chance did I ever have?’ he had expressed on more than one occasion.
Aiden was never open about his affairs. Gina understood that he didn’t believe he owed her that much, even though he demanded that she towed the line and was faithful to him. She was meant to be his only, but only when he desired her. It hadn’t taken her long to realise that Aiden was never going to take her in his arms and promise her an eternity of devotion, but as ever she deluded herself into the fantasy that he was hers.
She asked herself, as the silence grew between them: if she understood all this, if she had always known what Aiden got up to when he wasn’t sharing her bed, why she was getting so upset this time?
The answer, she knew, was because she had fallen in love with him. She needed him like a baby needed its mother: a deep yearning that was present from the moment she woke up in the morning to the moment she dropped into a deep sleep. And then he was there, penetrating her dreams with lies of love and kindness. Loving Aiden was exhausting. It was like an illness.
Honesty had never been either of their specialities. If she ever plucked up the courage to tell him straight, tell him that she adored him and wanted him to be hers, she would lose him for sure. Because only with her being the weak and he being the dominant could they continue this little game they played. An ultimatum from her would certainly destroy their perverted relationship. So, with nothing of consequence to say, she only glared at his handsome face, trying to contain the mixed emotions of love and resentment that bubbled at the surface of her temper.
“Are we done, then?” he asked dispassionately.
Gina fought all instincts not to launch herself at him and scratch his beautiful face to pieces. She had a temper. Anyone who had come to blows with Gina Watson knew this much about her. Gina did not know how to express herself in any other way than to use malice, and now she was wild with anger, because however much she cared for this man-boy before her, it didn’t make a blind bit of difference to him.
Her nose flared and she clenched her fists as she used all her will not to lose it. But Gina Watson didn’t hold her temper easily, and grabbing a glass ashtray from the table beside her, she lobbed it across the room. The glass shattered against the back of the door, missing Aiden by a couple of feet.
He stared at her, for a split second not knowing how to play this, then he charged at her. “You dozy bitch!” Grabbing her arms, he pushed her against the wall.
Gina fought him with all her strength. “I hate you! I hate you!” she screamed, though even she couldn’t hear much conviction in her words.
Holding her body flush against the wall with his hips, Aiden released one of her arms and clasped his hand over her mouth. “Fucking hate me, do ya?” he bellowed into her face. She continued to fight against him, all the pain and frustration he had caused her from day one bursting like a dam as she began elbowing the side of his head, over and over. Aiden merely restrained her as she assaulted him and screamed profanities into his palm. “Shut it!” He bellowed into her face, pulling her body to him and once more pushing her aggressively against the wall and holding her there.
Gina eventually began to tire and, finally, her free arm dropped to her side. She fought for breath through her nose as Aiden’s hand remained firmly over her mouth. “You’ve got some nerve lecturing me, G. What about Jason, eh?” Aiden added in a spitting whisper, his face close to hers, his hand still cupping her mouth. “What did I tell you about seeing him again? What did I say would happen?”
He slammed her hard against the wall again, but Gina had suddenly given up the fight, her stare fixated on his flushed face. Aiden watched her changing expression warily, then slowly moved his hand away from her mouth. He stepped back a touch, wiping her spittle from his palm onto his jeans.
Gina continued to stare at his red face in disbelief. She gulped. “You did it, didn’t you?”
“Did what?” he asked.
His resolute expression told her all she needed to know. She wasn’t to force the subject, but she knew it to be true: Jason had been found in his father’s garage six days ago. It was reported that his throat had been slashed. As a result, the police were investigating a murder, although there was, so far, no news of any suspects and no evidence found to arrest anyone. But Gina knew now that Aiden had murdered Jason Ryan.
Had it been because of her? Her heart swelled at the thought. It was so inexplicably wrong, totally insane, but she couldn’t help the feeling of hope that coursed through her heart as she allowed herself to believe this to be a sign that he did care for her. She quavered, “Bit of a step up from debt collecting, don’t you think?”
Aiden didn’t answer right away. He pulled a packet of cigarettes from his jeans and lit one up. “You can’t say nothing, G,” he said, taking a long drag and exhaling between pursed lips. “You know that, don’t you? This is between you, me and the Lord Almighty, understand?”
Her mind was reeling and suddenly she grinned. Aiden grinned back at her and shook his head. His large hand took her cheek and his eyebrows rose as he stared intently at her. She felt the heat of her melting heart and enjoyed the feel of his thumb as it brushed against her cheek. “Fucking as mad as each other, aren’t we, G?” he said with a fondness that he didn’t show very often. His smile grew wider, to mouth-watering standards. “Come ’ere.”
Gina stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his lean waist, her head resting on his hard chest. His large arms engulfed her. His warm embrace brought her to tears, but she gulped them down, quickly wiping her eyes with the back of her index finger before he noticed.
After a long silence, he released her and stepped back. “You couldn’t do me a favour, could you, babe?” he asked.
Gina nodded, without question. All was forgiven. He sunk his hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out a block of white powder wrapped in cling film. “Take this down to our block, number fifty-four. He’s paid. You just need to drop it off.” He placed the wrap in Gina’s palm and she peered up into his handsome face. Oh, how she loved him, but his warm affection had already vanished and, she knew, she had lost him again. “Cheers, babe,” he added with a weak smile, his eyes darting to the door.
Human Conditioning Page 12
