Like Father, Like Son

by Sarah Masters

  “Aaron!” he called. “Get your arse down here. We have a serious problem.”

  Chapter Ten

  Robby’s wrists hurt from being held together too tightly with a cable tie. The plastic rubbed against the bandages covering the sore skin from when he’d been bound by the rope the last time Damien had abducted him. His hands sat on his lap—shit, they burned—and if he didn’t get some painkillers in him soon, they’d burn a whole lot more. Throb and ache, too. Have him gritting his teeth and wanting to cry. Scream, even.

  The farmhouse Damien had taken him to wasn’t downtrodden like the previous house, the one where he’d had his fingers chopped off. Starky’s building firm had clearly been hard at work here. Robby sat in a kitchen that had been renovated to within an inch of its life. A gleaming, trendy white effort with brushed steel appliances, light-gray walls and dark wood laminate flooring screamed that whoever put in a bid for this place in the future would need plenty of money to purchase it.

  It stung that not being able to earn a grand a week meant he’d never live in a place like this. Still, being alive in a hovel was better than not being alive at all. He had to remember what was important—him and Ma getting out of this shit, safe. Whether they had monetary riches or not didn’t matter. That they had their lives, did.

  That Damien bloke. Man, he had a bit of a cheek—more than a bit of a cheek—to bring Robby here, considering what Damien had done with Katrina. The geezer had no morals, no sense of loyalty. Christ, he’d been Starky’s right-hand man for years. When had it all gone wrong? What had Starky done to Damien to warrant all this? How could Damien think it was okay to use Starky’s property in this way?

  The questions didn’t seem to want to stop forming.

  What was the overall plan? Frame Starky, maybe, for killing Robby in one of his houses? Take over The Hardarms, as was his prerogative as right-hand if Starky was no longer able to lead? That was how it worked, and Starky ought to watch his bloody back. The police were after him, if only they could get solid evidence of any wrongdoing, and a part of Robby felt sorry for the bloke, despite all the things Starky had done over the years. To be sent down for something he hadn’t done—well, that was a bit wrong.

  But what about all the things he has done? Better to serve time whatever it’s for than not serve time at all.

  And wasn’t that something? For Robby to want Starky behind bars, the one man he’d strived to be matey with for years? He’d always known, deep inside him, that gang life wasn’t the path he should be on. Trouble was, he’d been conflicted, as though he had two sides to him. Good versus evil. Good was sitting on his shoulders at the moment, and he was grateful for that. He’d worried that his need to leave the city had just been a momentary lapse because of what had happened to him, and that evil would return, whisper sweetly in his ear, then he’d be back to wanting to run around threatening folks and acting like he was someone you wouldn’t want to meet down a dark alley.

  Being alone in this kitchen was getting to him. Waiting for whatever was going to happen next reminded him of how he’d felt the last time he’d been tied to a chair. At least here he had something decent to look at.

  Damien had fucked off after securing Robby to the chair. What, half an hour ago now? Robby couldn’t be too sure on that, but he estimated that was how much time had passed. As for that kid—Lee, he’d said his name was—he’d gone with Damien. Robby could only surmise from their departure from the room that Lee was on Damien’s side, not his uncle Starky’s.

  That had been a revelation, Katrina’s nephew morphing into a turncoat. Maybe the lad was like Robby had been, someone eager to be high up in a gang no matter what he had to do to get there. Except Robby hadn’t ever done anything much to get where he’d wanted to be. Hadn’t had the balls.

  Damien had most likely spun Lee a tale, saying that Starky’s days were numbered and Lee would be better off sticking with Damien from now on. To a young man wanting nothing more than to belong and become someone, the temptation would be too great, and Robby should know. Allegiance to the leader meant nothing if someone else planned to take their place. Gang members in this city went with whoever would be top dog—a case of survival.

  What a sodding mess.

  Robby’s throat was dry.

  I’d kill for a cup of Ma’s tea.

  Thinking of her brought a slew of emotions he didn’t want to deal with. He closed his eyes to concentrate on blocking the feelings out, but they remained swirling inside him.

  “Fancy seeing me here?” Robby said. “It’s my Ma’s place. Of course you’re likely to see me here.” Why he’d blurted that he didn’t know. He should be placating Damien, not riling him up.

  “Your smart mouth is going to get you in so much shit one of these days.” Damien smiled, his face turning into a mask that looked as frightening as fuck. “But oh, ‘one of these days’ is already here. Today. Now.”

  Like Robby needed to be told that. His mind worked a mile a minute, him trying to figure out how he could divert Damien’s attention enough so that he could get Ma out of the house.

  “I can see what you’re thinking, dickhead,” Damien said. “And it won’t work.”

  He came over to Robby and wrenched his hands behind his back before Robby had the chance to blink. Ma was still in the living room when Damien marched Robby down the hall. Her back to the doorway, she stuffed a few things into her handbag that she’d perched on the sofa. That was the last glimpse Robby had of her as Damien ushered him through the room to the patio doors at the back. She must have looked up, seen Damien and Robby, and she let out a strangled scream.

  “Shut your fucking face or I’ll shut it for you, woman,” Damien said.

  Out into the garden they went, Damien pushing Robby roughly in the back, and the wail from Ma ripped a planet-sized hole in Robby’s psyche. The next sound was a thud, a crumpled thud, and he knew she’d gone down like a sack of shit—heart attack? A faint? Whatever had happened to her, it’d be a while before the policeman out the front came to check they were all right, and hours before Thax Man and that other copper, Blacksmith, arrived to collect them.

  Too much could happen in that amount of time.

  Robby snapped his eyes open at the sound of footsteps. The door swung open and Lee walked in, looking none the worse for wear. A part of Robby was surprised—he’d kind of hoped Lee was in the same boat as him, held captive in another room, Damien wanting the kid out of the picture, another link to what he’d been up to with Katrina—one that needed severing.

  Didn’t seem that was the case, though. Lee sauntered toward Robby, got up close and personal, and lumped him one in the face. Shock had Robby crying out, and as the chair toppled backward, he had the brief thought that someone so slender shouldn’t be able to pack a punch like that. Pain lanced his cheek—some kind of delayed reaction?—at the same time as it speared his shoulder when he landed on the floor. The chair was still attached to him—damn ropes securing his ankles to the legs—and it made shifting across the floor to get away difficult.

  Lee came at him again, a kick to his stomach this time, and Robby let out a whoosh of air, an oomph tagging along on its arse.

  “What the fuck?” Robby shouted, the injustice of what was happening forcing the words out of his mouth. “Starky’s going to swing for you.”

  Lee’s answer was another kick, which glanced Robby’s hip. “Starky’s a bag of shit and isn’t going to be a problem for much longer.”

  Fuck.

  So it was like Robby had thought. “Damien taking over, is he?” He scooted along, thankful that Lee remained standing where he was. The scrape of the chair on the floor grated his nerves.

  “Damien and me.” Lee jabbed a thumb at his chest.

  What a dickhead.

  He seemed proud of himself, like he’d won the lottery or something. He looked a tosser. Now Robby could see why that copper had thought he was one. It was weird viewing things from the other side of the fence. Unset
tling. Revealing.

  If the circumstances had been different, Robby would have laughed. If he hadn’t been on the receiving end of Lee’s violence, he would have laughed. But diminished size clearly didn’t mean a bloke couldn’t have power, and there was a shitload of power in Lee’s arms and legs. Robby didn’t want any more of it coming his way if he could help it. He had to give it a try. Get Lee to see there was another road he could walk down. That gangs weren’t the be all and end all.

  There was another kind of life out there, and Lee was young enough to get himself to college, maybe uni after, and make something of his life. Robby got it then—got why that Blacksmith copper wanted to save him.

  “There’s no need for this,” Robby said. What should he do? Go for persuading Lee of that better life or go for making out he wanted to be a part of his current one? He made a snap decision. “I can be a part of whatever you’ve got going on. All I’ve ever wanted is to be in with The Hardarms. And Starky’s a cock—he needs taking down a peg or two. I’d like to be in on that, too, although something tells me I don’t stand a fucking chance.”

  A nasty chuckle rumbled out of Lee. It was alien, hearing it seep from between the lips of someone who appeared so innocent. His acne was livid, seeming to have swelled with his anger, bright red spots of it against a just-as-red background. “You’re right. Not a fucking chance.”

  So that didn’t work too well…

  Another tack. Try another one.

  “What kind of nephew are you, eh? Aren’t you bothered Damien offed your aunt?” Robby asked. “I mean, I’d be right pissed off if he’d killed mine. Not that I have one, but if I did, I’d be well arsey.”

  Lee’s eyebrows clustered together. “You what?” He clenched his hands into fists.

  “You didn’t know?” Robby did laugh, then. “Fucking Nora. You thought Starky did her in?”

  Lee looked confused as eff. “Shut it.” He stepped back a few paces. Pointed at Robby. “Just shut it.”

  “Damien’s been doing her. Giving her one. Didn’t you even know that?” Sod it, what did he have to lose? He was going to get a good kicking or be killed. Out here in the middle of nowhere, he couldn’t duck out of either punishment.

  Might as well go down spilling the lot.

  “You’re disgusting, you are.” Lee shoved a shaking hand through his hair. “And telling lies like that, spouting bullshit— Damien’ll have you for it.”

  “Oh right. Haven’t asked yourself why he’s sent you to do me over, have you? Or maybe you have and you reckon it’s some kind of initiation. Some kind of proof that you’re willing to do whatever he asks. Well, it isn’t like that, not by a long shot, believe me. You have no clue what you’re getting yourself into, have you?”

  “What the hell are you on about?” Lee slid his fists into his jeans pockets and began pacing. “And how come you know all this, anyway?”

  Robby got brave and took a chance. Changed tack again. “Because I’m a police grass, that’s why.”

  Lee stopped still. Stared at him. His mouth dropped open, and those bloody auburn eyebrows scrunched even closer together.

  Robby sighed, to give the impression he thought Lee was tiresome. “They know I was picked up by Damien—thought you should be aware of that. They’ll be outside somewhere, waiting for the right time to come in. Probably behind those trees I spotted on our way up the track. Or maybe in that barn.” He thought of lines he’d heard in some movie or other he’d seen a while back now. “Yeah, you might well look shocked. They know you’re here all right. You won’t be able to get out of this. Mind you, if they don’t hurry up and come inside, you’ll be dead right after you’ve killed me. Damien will slit your throat. Didn’t you know he’s using you? Like, he’s setting you up?”

  “Setting me up for what?” Lee’s eyes narrowed even more.

  Come on, mate, you’re not that thick, are you?

  “For killing Katrina! For killing me! Jesus, anybody could have worked that one out.”

  “Why the hell would he choose me to frame?”

  “Easy target.” Robby managed to sit up by pushing on his elbows. “Take this rope off, will you?” He went for blasé, as though he was bored and didn’t care what happened to him. “What I said about Starky earlier. Yeah, he’s a cock, but you’ve got to be a right wanker if you don’t feel sorry for him, even just a bit. He’s lost his wife. And he loved her—really loved her. But she’s been letting Damien dip his wick in her, and I found out. Starky knows about it, in case you were wondering.”

  Lee came closer. “So why hasn’t he dealt with Damien?”

  Robby would have flexed his fingers if he could. The cable ties were wreaking havoc on his wrists. “Because he knows how to play the game, unlike Damien. If Starky has Damien killed now, it’s going to bring more attention. It’s going to look obvious that Starky knows who murdered his missus. And the police would look more closely at him. If Starky waits until the heat’s died down… See how it works now? Blimey, haven’t you been paying attention to how things are run?”

  Lee shook his head absently, as though he was piecing it all together in his head.

  “If you pack it in now—you know, stop being such an arsehole by beating me up—I’m willing to say to the police that Damien snatched you and all. Brought us both here to get rid of us.”

  “Why would you do that?” Lee crouched in front of Robby, about two feet away.

  “Because you’re young. Because Damien’s a bastard who needs locking up. You didn’t know any better.” He paused to glance at the ropes. “Are you going to untie them or not? Fuck me, it’s like waiting for an iceberg to melt.”

  “You’re not going to try anything if I do, are you?” Lee asked.

  “Try what? With these hands?” Robby held them up. “Not much I can do. Even if I tried kicking out at you, I’d probably cock it up. I’m knackered. The painkillers wipe me out. I just want to go home, know what I mean?”

  Was that enough? Will he fall for it?

  Lee shuffled forward. Started untying the ropes. “I swear to God—”

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Instead of issuing half threats, you need to be concentrating on what happens next. Where’s Damien now?”

  Lee tossed the ropes aside. Stood and held a hand out.

  “Are you taking the piss?” Robby asked. “Like I can just grab your hand.” He waved one of his to remind the dimwit he wasn’t in any position to hold on to Lee. He got up by himself. His cheekbone protested, pain lacerating it afresh. “I need a drink of water, all right?” He strode over to the sink as though he wasn’t shaking inside. “And you didn’t answer my question. Where’s Damien?”

  “I don’t know. He’s not here.”

  “There. See? He’s left you to do whatever he told you to, then he’ll probably make an anonymous phone call, saying there’s a body at Whatever Farm and you were seen bringing me here.” Robby just about managed to turn on the tap. He bent over and sucked in some water.

  “Shit.”

  “Could you turn this off for me?” Robby asked. “Hands are giving me gyp.”

  Lee came over, shut the tap off, then stepped back pretty sharpish.

  “I’m telling you, mate,” Robby said, “no funny business from me. Will you take off this cable tie? All I want is to go home and make sure my old dear’s okay. Which is why I asked where Damien is. Did he say anything about going for her? Paying her a visit?”

  Lee pulled a Swiss army knife from his pocket. He sawed at the cable. “No, he said he was going to call a meeting.” The cable broke apart. Dropped to the floor. “I assumed he’d be ringing all the gang so they can get together to work out how to sort Starky.”

  The relief on Robby’s wrists was welcome. He rotated them to get some feeling back, pissed off that the skin was broken in places and clear liquid oozed out. “Right, so unless he’s lying, we have a bit of time. If the police aren’t outside here, we’ll need to get hold of them. I’ll ring the detective I�
�m a grass for. I promise you, I’ll stick to what I said. If you’re willing to walk away from this life, that is.”

  “Walk away? Starky won’t allow it. I’m stuck, just like you are.”

  Robby smiled. “Well, that’s where you’re wrong. I’m not stuck. Not anymore. I’m out of this city come tonight. And you could be too if you’re willing to tell the police everything you know. And you must know things, being Katrina’s nephew.”

  “I know plenty.”

  “So what’s it to be, then? Am I telling the coppers you were willing to beat the crap out of me for Damien, or am I telling them you and me were dumped here together?”

  “The second one,” Lee said. “God fucking help me, the second one.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Matt and Aaron stood in the CCTV room of the independent company they used to get footage of the city streets. The operator, John someone or other, sat in front of them at a desk that held a bank of monitors, a mouse and keyboard, and a mug with scum on the inside from having had multiple cups of tea in it with no washing in between.

  Bit grim, that.

  “There, look,” John said.

  Matt leaned forward to peer at the screen. The purple Golf was steaming along at a bloody good clip.

  So much for speed cameras being a deterrent.

  Damien Fox clearly hadn’t been thinking properly. If he had, he’d have chosen streets where CCTV wasn’t used. And Matt had no doubt that every single Hardarm knew where every camera in the city was. Was the bloke panicking? Was everything spinning out of control and he was acting irrationally instead of how a cold-blooded gang member would act? Whatever. So long as he was apprehended, it didn’t matter what mistakes Fox was making. The more the merrier if it meant Matt and Aaron could pick him up with nothing bad happening to Robby or Mrs. Zeus.

  The Golf headed out of the city. From there, once it hit the end of Stamford Street, the footage ended, but at least they had a direction to go on, an area Damien, Lee and Robby might be found in. Providing they were all still in the car. He couldn’t see that being the case, though. There was bound to be some building or other Damien knew about where he would take Robby.