by Kerry Kaya
“Fucking Luke,” Jonah joined in. “Why the fuck Dad puts up with him, beats me, and look at the amount of shit he causes. He’s toxic like a fucking cancer.”
“So where does Barkley fit into this?”
“Oh, that’s the best part,” Kieran spat. He inhaled a lungful of smoke. “Seems our good friend Luke has used his share of the pubs as a commodity for a gambling debt.”
“But …” Jonah carried on from where his brother left off. “The lowlife junkie had no way of ever paying it back.” He gritted his teeth. “What sort of a fucking imbecile would do a deal with a crack addict anyway?”
Jaden looked up at the pub. “A smart one,” he answered wearily.
The two brothers followed their friend’s gaze. As much as they hated to admit it, Jaden had made a valid point.
“Come on.” Kieran flicked the cigarette butt to the kerb. “It’s time to go and find that fucker before my dad ends up blowing a fucking gasket.”
Jaden didn’t even bother to ask where they should head to. It wasn’t the first time they had had to go searching for Lucas, and luckily for them, he was a creature of habit and stuck to the same usual crack dens.
* * *
Devan Barkley considered himself to be a bad man. Gone was the skinny, scruffy kid of yesterday. With a little bit of help from steroids, his body was now broad-shouldered and muscular, something he took great pleasure in showing off, but it was his business acumen that he really prided himself on. He owned a string of brothels, and on the side, amongst his other business interests, he sold anything and everything he could get his hands on—from women, to stolen goods, to speed, to crack, to heroin, and of course more than a little bit of puff in between.
Lounging back on a leather sofa, he scratched at the stubble across his chin as he watched the unfolding scenes that played out before him. On a king-sized bed, two women were in various stages of undress as they auditioned for his latest parlour. As music from a state-of-the-art sound system blared out, they gyrated seductively in time to the music.
“Devan.”
The shrill voice of his live-in girlfriend, Keisha, broke his reverie.
“What?” Barely even taking his eyes away from the two women on the bed, Devan barked out his reply.
Standing in the doorway with a young child on her hip, Keisha was blonde, blue-eyed, petite, and as Devan often remarked, had the personality of a pit bull. She eyed the two women with disgust and screeched at the top of her lungs. “Get those fucking slags out of my home.”
Devan jumped up from the sofa, his long swinging dreadlocks slapping against the side of his face from the force of the action. Within seconds, he was in her face, his features contorting with rage. On the bed, the two women immediately ceased their lewd act and were in the process of pulling the sheet around their scantily clothed bodies.
“Keep fucking dancing,” he growled, and backing his girlfriend out of the room, he bellowed into her face, spraying her in spittle in the process. “Get the fuck outta my face.” He grasped a handful of her hair in his fist and dragged her toward the rear of the property. As a final gesture, he kicked her in the small of her back and sent her flying through to the lounge area. Oblivious to the fact that she was holding their child in her arms, he raised his fist in the air as she came to a shuddering halt. “You stay in here.” He breathed heavily through his flared nostrils, so acute was his anger. “Have you fucking got that?”
Keisha rubbed at the small of her back. It was on the tip of her tongue to answer him back. She loved it when they argued, loved to see just how far she could push this big, strapping, handsome man of hers. It was the making up she loved the most. She craved it and believed with all her heart that it kept their relationship alive.
As far as she was concerned, they had a connection, a chemistry that sizzled beyond anything she had ever known before. So what if they argued like cat and dog? It was what they did. They could fight and fuck for England, and it was as exhilarating as it was exhausting. As he turned his back on her, she glared at him through narrowed eyes. However, to physically lash out whilst she was still holding their young daughter in her arms, that was low, even for him.
She looked down at little Chanel’s face. Her daughter’s big blue eyes were so much like her daddy’s as she stared up at her.
“Oi.” As her man stormed back to the two whores laid out on the bed, she screamed after his retreating back. “You could have hurt the fucking baby.”
“Fuck off, Keish.” He pointed toward the front door nonchalantly. “If you don’t like it then there’s the fucking door, so why don’t you do us both a favour and fuck off.”
Screwing up her face, Keisha slumped down on the sofa. “Fucking bastard.” She muttered underneath her breath, and picking up the remote control, she pointed it toward the television. Once her daughter was settled and engrossed in watching a children’s cartoon, she glanced down the hallway and shook her head. The heavy beat from the sound system pounded through the walls, and kicking the door closed, she turned up the volume on the television. He’d better make it up to her, she decided. It didn’t even occur to her to take his advice and leave. Why should it? She loved this man and like fuck was she going to sit idly by and let another woman get her claws into him.
* * *
As he returned to the lounge and resumed his position on the sofa, Devan shook his head. “Fucking women,” he grumbled.
Marty Hanratty nodded his head, and taking his eyes off of the two women on the bed, he returned to the task of building a joint. Once done, he placed it between his lips, and lighting up, he took a deep toke. “They’re only good for one fucking thing,” he grinned, flicking away remnants of ash and glowing embers from his T-shirt.
Devan raised his eyebrows, and taking the joint from his friend, he drew on it deeply, filling his lungs with smoke. As he savoured the taste of the grass, the sweet pungent scent filled the room. He was in a bad mood now, all thanks to Keisha and her big fucking trap. She knew exactly how to push his buttons and was able to get his back up within nanoseconds. It was a particular skill of hers.
His gaze lingered on the two women. They were coming to the end of their routine and were virtually naked, a sight he could never tire of. Nah, if Keisha didn’t learn to keep her big mouth shut, he’d end up outing her. He licked his fleshy lips and beckoned for one of the girls to join him. With long blonde hair piled loosely up on top of her head, big tits, and a tight little arse, she was just his type. He pulled down the zip on his jeans, then pulled the giggling naked girl onto his lap. In fact, fuck Keisha; she and her big mouth were already out the door, as far as he was concerned.
Chapter 15
Over the years, Cathy and Stella had come to somewhat of a truce. They may not have been the best of friends, but they shared a mutual respect. The love they had for Paul was enough to make sure it stayed that way.
Years earlier, Paul had moved them into a large four-bedroomed property in Chigwell, and sitting at the granite table in her spacious, modern kitchen, which was her pride and joy, Cathy watched her niece, Katelyn. With long strawberry blonde hair and green eyes, little Katie, as they called her, was absolutely stunning. The only child of Stella and Jason, Katie was the sweetheart of the family. Just a year younger than Jonah, she was her cousins’ greatest ally, as they were hers.
“Have you seen the boys?” Taking a sip of her coffee, Cathy eyed her niece over the rim of the mug. Even as she asked the question, she already knew the answer. Katie and the boys were as thick as thieves and often joined at the hip. Both Kieran and Jonah were protective over her and she knew for a fact that they had gotten into numerous scrapes over the years, all because someone had had the audacity to try and chat up their little cousin.
Katie’s face lit up and she nodded her head. “We went to a club last night on Southend seafront. Oh, we had such a good time …” Her voice trailed off and she gave her auntie a shy smile.
“What?” Cathy cocked her hea
d to one side. It wasn’t like Katie to act so coy. In any normal circumstance, there were no secrets between them, unless it involved her sons’ antics, of course.
“Oh, nothing.” Reaching for her mug, Katie took a sip of the scalding liquid. She could practically squeal with delight, she was so happy, but she wouldn’t, not here and definitely not in front of her auntie. After all, she wasn’t daft or stupid, come to that.
The cause of her happiness was a man named Jaden Collins, with coffee coloured skin and turquoise blue eyes, he was beautiful, absolutely gorgeous, and it had been a case of love at first sight, at least on Katie’s behalf, anyway. Jaden also happened to be the best friend of her cousins. Not only did he match them in physique, but in looks, too. They made an intimidating trio, and sandwiched between them when they went out for an evening, she often felt like a princess.
Cathy laughed lightly. “Don’t,” she said, pointing a manicured finger toward her niece, “give me all of that old fanny.” She watched the girl blush and leaned across the table. “Come on out with it. What is making our little Katie turn a bright shade of red?”
Katie grimaced at the words. Once upon a time, she had loved being known as little Katie, but she was a woman now and wanted to be treated as such. How on earth was she ever going to embrace womanhood if everyone still thought of her as a child, including her cousins?
“Have you met someone?” Standing up from the table, Cathy opened the cupboard and took out the biscuit tin. “Well?” She placed the tin on the table and pushed it in front of her niece. She knew that Katie had a sweet tooth and she smiled to herself as she watched the girl hesitate. Her hand hovered over the tin before shaking her head and replacing the lid.
“I’m watching my figure.”
Cathy laughed. Watching her weight, that was a new one. Any other day, Katie would have devoured the biscuits. After all, custard creams were her weakness.
“So who is he?” Sitting back down at the table, Cathy picked up her mug. “Do the boys know him?” she asked innocently.
“Oh, Auntie Cath,” Katie’s cheeks reddened, “he is so lovely, and he treats me right, you know, looks out for me.”
“I knew it.” Cathy sat back in her seat, pleased with herself for sussing out her niece’s secret. “Well, who is he then?”
Katie hesitated for a second time. The problem was they were keeping their relationship a secret and she knew for a fact that her cousins wouldn’t take well to the news. They would see it as an affront, a stain on their friendship. They could be funny like that; they saw her as theirs, their property, so to speak. She sighed. She knew Jaden loved her, at least that’s what he told her every time he climbed into bed beside her.
“Do I know him?” There was concern in Cathy’s eyes.
Katie nodded her head. “But you have to promise me, Auntie Cath, that you won’t tell the boys. They can’t know, not yet anyway. We will tell them, but in our own time, when the time is right.”
Cathy sat back in her seat. An uneasy feeling washed over her and a part of her regretted starting the conversation. “Who is he, darling?”
Katie took a deep breath. “It’s Jaden. Jaden Collins.”
Closing her eyes tight, Cathy sighed. She’d known Jaden since he was a little boy. He’d been a nice, polite kid and had grown into an equally nice young man. He also happened to be her sons’ best friend and she knew for a fact that this news wouldn’t go down too well. “Oh darling,” she sighed, “anyone but Jaden, and the boys would have accepted it, they would have had, too.”
Katie bit down on her lip and tears sprang to her eyes. “Well, they are going to have to get used to the idea, Auntie Cath,” she cried. “You see, I’m …” She looked away and lowered her voice until it was a mere whisper. “I’m pregnant.”
“Oh, Katie.” Cathy shook her head sadly. The silly girl really couldn’t see the trouble her bombshell was about to bring them. She reached out and clasped her niece’s slender hand in hers. “I think maybe we should ring your mum, darling.”
As the tears blinded her vision, Katie solemnly nodded her head. Instinctively, she knew it was going to be a long, long day.
* * *
Darren Mitchell parked his car beside Paul’s, and leaning back in the seat, he waited for his boss to climb out of his own car before following suit.
It was a well-known fact that dealing with Lucas was the equivalent of skating on thin ice, extremely thin ice. He was a hard fucker at the best of times, with fists the size of shovels. Not only was he difficult to manage, but once narcotics were brought into the equation and the coke was raging throughout his bloodstream, he became virtually unmanageable, hence why, in any normal circumstance, they were more than happy to leave either Paul or Jason the unfortunate task of dealing with him. No, Lucas wasn’t the usual type of junkie they were used to dealing with. He was, in fact, the bane of their lives, not to mention a ticking time bomb.
“You know, if it was me …” Charlie Wilson nodded toward the pub. He was a good looking man with dark brown hair, brown eyes and a naturally cocky, aggressive nature. “I’d plant a bullet between his eyes and just be done with it. The man is a fucking joke and that’s an understatement.”
Darren sighed. He could see Charlie’s point, not that he would ever voice his opinion out loud, of course. He knew when to keep schtum, and when it came to Lucas, that was exactly what he did. He knew for a fact that both Paul and Jason loved Lucas like a brother. He still remembered the old days before Lucas’s habit had become his only driving force, before he’d become out of control. He had liked the big man once. He’d been astute, reliable—a man you were more than happy to have by your side when faced with trouble. Now, though, there was virtually nothing left of the man he’d once been.
In silence, Darren opened the car door, stepped outside, and leaning his forearms on the open door, he turned back to look at Charlie. In his late twenties, Charlie had only been on Paul’s payroll for a couple of years. In Darren’s eyes, he was still a kid. He hadn’t lived through the good old days like he had, nor the bad days, he surmised. He hadn’t been there while Paul had taken over Samson Ivers’s drug empire. He hadn’t been there to witness the murders, the bloodshed. They were all the same. These young kids, they were blood thirsty, but when faced with an actual turf war, they shit themselves and went running back to their mothers for protection.
“Let me tell you something, Charlie, that kind of talk will be your undoing. Let me give you a heads up, son. When it comes to Lucas, Mooney would rather see a bullet lodged inside your brain than ever willingly harm a hair on that man’s head.”
Charlie rolled his eyes and climbing out of the car. The natural cockiness inside of him wanted to tell Darren to shove his warning up his arse, but he wouldn’t. He wasn’t daft, and more importantly, as Darren had so poetically pointed out, he didn’t want to end up on the wrong side of Paul. Now that was one man he didn’t want any bad blood with.
* * *
In silence, both Paul and Jason, with their firm behind them, walked across the carpark of The Merry Fiddlers. Situated on the corner of a cross roads in Dagenham, it was in their opinion in the perfect position to attract punters. Before they had even reached the heavy entrance door to the public bar, they could hear music pumping out and guessed correctly that it was going to be a busy evening, much to their pleasure. There was nothing worse than a boozer whose main clientele were just half a dozen or so of the same usual regulars sat at the bar, nursing a pint of bitter, night after night.
Just as Paul had predicted, the public bar was busy, and making his way through the throng of customers, he caught the bar manager’s eye.
Big Bernie was as his name suggested, big. Standing well over six-foot-four, he was as wide as he was tall. Not to mention, he was handy with his fists, which was always a good attribute when it came to running a public house. Beckoning them over, he was already filling two glasses with whiskey as they approached.
“Is he her
e?” Paul picked up the glass and took a large gulp, savouring the burn as the liquid slid down his throat.
“He’s here all right.” Bernie flicked his head toward a door with the words Staff Only emblazoned across it in large gold lettering. “He’s been up there for hours. He was out of his nut before he even got here, so fuck knows what sort of a state he is in now.”
Paul groaned and rubbed his palm wearily over his face. They were the words he’d been dreading.
“Listen, Paul,” Bernie leaned his large forearms across the bar and lowered his voice, “I may be out of line here, but someone needs to say it. Lucas needs sorting out, mate, and fast. Now I swallow his antics, because of who he is, but,” he opened up his arms apologetically, “when he’s like this, when he’s buzzing off of his nut, it isn’t good for business, mate, and as for those fucking degenerates he brings in with him,” he raised his eyes to the ceiling, “they stink the fucking pub out.” He reached underneath the bar top and brought out a can of lavender air freshener. “I have to spray this, every time one of them walks past the fucking bar.”
Raising his eyebrows, Paul shook his head sadly. He’d never felt so ashamed. As far as Lucas was concerned, enough was enough. He needed sorting out and the sooner the better. He would even pay for him to have a stint in rehab if he thought it would do any good. However, knowing Lucas, he would probably kick off and do a disappearing act before the word rehab had even left his mouth.
“Don’t worry, Bern, we’ll sort him out.” Gulping down his whiskey, Jason motioned toward the staff entrance that led up to a large two-bedroom apartment. “Let’s get this over and done with, shall we?”
