Shattered (Dividing Line #5)

by Heather Atkinson

  The five of them walked outside to the cars where the two men who had been guarding Sheridan waited for them, both sporting black eyes. It hadn’t taken Ryan and Rachel much to convince them to come over to their side.

  Inside the house Sheridan strained to reach the phone on her desk, crying out in pain, her vision distorted as blood trickled into her eyes. She’d already guessed her left arm was broken. Not one part of her body had escaped the vicious onslaught, she’d never realised a woman could be possessed of such strength. Rachel had told her she was watching her and if she slipped back into her nasty habits she’d come back and finish her off. Sheridan was amazed she was still breathing, even if every breath was agony. As she phoned for an ambulance she already had her story worked out. Two masked intruders broke in and attacked her. She didn’t see them and wouldn’t be able to give a description. She had no doubt the detective put on the case would be in the Law’s employ anyway. Then she was going to take the first flight to anywhere, sod what Alex said. She was leaving the UK and she would never come back.

  Back at the safe house Rachel went straight upstairs to the bathroom to clean herself up. Sheridan’s blood was on her hands and under her fingernails. Sadness welled up inside her as she washed it away. This was all supposed to be behind her. She should be in Devon with her children living a decent life and now she was right back where she started. Rachel splashed water on her face, reliving the memories of her attack on Sheridan, which had been immensely satisfying and she hated herself for that, hated the way hurting people came so easily to her. Granted Sheridan was evil and had to be stopped but what scared Rachel was the pleasure she’d got from the assault. She opened her eyes and saw how black they were in the mirror, how expressionless her face was and it was like looking at a stranger, a psychopathic one at that. Sometimes she feared there was something wrong with her. There weren’t many women capable of violence on such a scale. But then she thought of how she’d lived legitimately so easily. She only resorted to such drastic measures when she or her family were threatened, it was a defence mechanism. She didn’t experience the need to hurt others like Sheridan did and this consoled her a little. However the fact that she would do anything to defend herself made her very dangerous indeed.

  Rachel dried her hands and face and shook off the regret at what her life had become. She held her head higher, determination blazing in her eyes. She would do whatever it took to make this nightmare end and to get her family back. If she had to tread on pieces of shit like Sheridan to do it, then so be it.

  Ryan was relieved when Rachel returned downstairs looking like her old self. She’d been very quiet in the car on the way back and he worried all this was taking its toll on her but she was once again the strong composed woman he so adored. She sat beside him at the kitchen table and gave him a confident smile.

  “There’s something I want to show you,” Ryan whispered in her ear.

  “Oh yes?” she said enthusiastically. Every time he’d said this to her before it had culminated in wonderful sexual pleasure.

  “Oh,” she said when he led her out into the garden to reveal some targets lined up.

  “You sound disappointed.”

  “I assumed you were going to take me upstairs.”

  “I see.” He pulled her to him and stared at her with feverish eyes that practically devoured her. Rachel felt that familiar tingle between her legs. “Later. This is important,” he said.

  “Fine,” she sighed.

  He released her and produced the handgun from inside his jacket that he’d used at Sheridan’s house. “This is a Sig Sauer P two twenty and my personal favourite. Forty five calibre, holds eight rounds. Hold it, see how it feels.”

  She took it, curling her fingers around the black Polymer grip. It wasn’t her first time holding a gun but she anticipated that soon she would be firing one for the first time.

  “It’s a lightweight frame so it should be easy for you to handle. Why don’t you try it?”

  She took aim at the targets he’d set up at varying distances. At first she missed but an hour later, with some patient tutelage from Ryan, she was soon hitting them all.

  “You’re a natural,” he said proudly. “But remember, never hesitate, that’s what will get you killed. If you don’t think you can shoot then don’t carry it in the first place because if someone sees that in your hand and they have a weapon too, they’re going to shoot first.”

  “I won’t hesitate,” she told him firmly.

  “No, I don’t think you will. I’ll show you how to load it.”

  After that the lesson was over so she held the weapon out to him but he shook his head. “That one’s yours. I’ve cleaned it and put it back together myself, so I know it’s in perfect working order. It won’t let you down.”

  “Nice shooting Rach,” called Frankie, who had been watching from the kitchen doorway.

  “Thanks,” she called back. Her finger tightened slightly on the trigger. “I could end any threat he poses to us right now.”

  “I understand how you feel Babe, I’ve been tempted myself many times but that will bring a world of trouble down on our heads.”

  “I suppose,” she sighed.

  “We’ll try to talk him out of it again but next time we’ll tackle him together, he’ll find it harder to turn us both down.”

  She followed him back into the house and went straight upstairs to put the gun in her bedside cabinet, not trusting herself not to use it on Frankie.

  Alex was in bed with Katia, kissing her bare stomach and whispering to his babies inside her when there was a frantic knock on the door.

  “Fuck off,” he called before kissing Katia’s red lips, her thighs locking around his waist.

  “It’s important Boss. There’s something you really need to see right now.”

  He sighed and gazed down at Katia. “Sorry.”

  “Send him away then we can carry on,” she replied, pressing her body against his.

  “Hold that thought,” he smiled, pushing himself up and pulling on a robe. His strength was returning quickly, he was almost back to normal, although his injuries did still ache. He pulled the door open to reveal a pale Col clutching a newspaper.

  “What is it?” barked Alex.

  Col’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down nervously. “This,” he said, holding the paper up for Alex to see.

  He snatched it from his hands and studied it hard, face turning puce. “How the fuck did this happen?” he bellowed.

  He slammed his fist into the wall, putting a huge indentation in the plaster. Alex couldn’t believe it. Splashed all over the front of a newspaper - a newspaper owned by a member of The Coalition he noted - was a huge grinning picture of himself with the headline, Local businessman donates four million to gay rights campaign group.

  “This is Ryan and Rachel, they gave that money to make me look stupid. What are my business associates going to fucking think now? He was incensed to note that the article had made sure to mention that he’d recently split up with his wife.

  “I don’t think they donated the money Boss,” continued Col, hoping the nerves he felt didn’t sound in his voice. Alex looked ready to commit murder. “Greg who runs the money laundering contacted me. Apparently the money wasn’t deposited into the account when it was supposed to be. The Laws must have got to Sheridan.”

  “How? You said you sent some men to guard her place.”

  “I did and I’ve tried to get hold of them but apparently their numbers have changed.”

  “Traitors, they went over to the Laws’ side. I’ll fucking kill them,” he raged.

  The bedroom door opened and Katia emerged, a sheet wrapped around her. “What is the matter?”

  “This,” said Alex, thrusting the paper at her.

  Katia scanned the article, her blue eyes getting wider and wider. “Why would you do this?” she demanded of him.

  “I didn’t,” he exploded. “The Laws got to the slag who handles my money launder
ing operation and got her to transfer the whole lot to this fucking pack of woofters. My reputation is ruined.”

  “Please my love, calm down and let us think what we can do.”

  “They’ll all be demanding to know where their money is,” said Col.

  “Don’t you think I know that,” snapped Alex. “At least they won’t know where to find me. I’ll sort out the Laws then meet them all, persuade them to let it go.”

  “Some of them are dangerous bastards. What if they won’t?”

  “Then I’ll take care of them too.”

  “Maybe we can plant a story of our own to get back at them,” said Katia.

  “Maybe,” muttered Alex, not trusting himself to say anything else. He couldn’t believe this had happened. He had to own it was a smart move; not only had they hurt his reputation but they’d seriously damaged a very lucrative sideline he had going. Still, he knew who his customers were and, although some of them were dangerous, they weren’t in his league. However the humiliation they’d heaped upon him made his cheeks burn. He’d fucking see them for this.

  Alex slammed the bedroom door shut in Col’s face, who ambled away down the corridor. Let Katia calm him down. He saw two of his men on guard duty sniggering over the newspaper article. When they saw him they snapped the paper closed and straightened their faces. Col didn’t like it, their men had no respect left for Alex. It was only a matter of time before they went over to the Laws too.

  CHAPTER 25

  “Rachel, will you please listen to reason? It’s not safe for you to go,” said an exasperated Ryan. It was the morning of Laila’s funeral and Rachel insisted on attending.

  “I have to. Laila saved my life. The least I can do is pay my respects,” she retorted, studying her reflection in the mirror, smoothing down her hair. She still wore the black trousers with high heeled boots but instead of the shirt she wore a wraparound black top with long sleeves and a thick black choker with a large stone to hide her scar. “Look, I’ve got a disguise,” she said, producing a long blond wig from the wardrobe. A pair of sunglasses completed the look.

  “Where do you keep getting all this stuff from? You’ve not been to the shops and I didn’t buy it.”

  “I gave Battler and Bruiser a shopping list.”

  “They actually went out and bought women’s clothes and wigs….never mind, that’s not the point. You can’t leave, it’s too dangerous.”

  “Would you recognise me like this?”

  “Yes.”

  “Only because you saw me put them on. If you hadn’t you wouldn’t have a clue. Battler and Bruiser are taking me, I’m not going on my own.”

  “I am not letting you out of my sight.”

  “But I don’t have a disguise for you.”

  “It doesn’t matter because I’m not going and neither are you.”

  “Excuse me? Did you say I’m not going?”

  “I did.”

  She released a derisive snort, picked up her handbag and marched out of the bedroom.

  “Rachel, get back here,” he said but she ignored him, leaving him no choice but to follow.

  “What if someone knows you’re going?” he demanded, following her down the stairs.

  “How will anyone know?”

  “Alex has his spies in the police. If someone did let it slip that we claimed the body it wouldn’t take him much to find out where the funeral’s being held.”

  “Oh yeah, because I’m sure Alex told the police he had Laila executed.”

  Ryan had to admit that she had a point but he wasn’t willing to concede the argument. “There’s a contract on your head.”

  “No one knows I’m going to be there.”

  “It’s not a chance I’m willing to take.”

  “I am.”

  He released a growl of frustration. She wasn’t listening to a word he said.

  “Wow Rach, you look bloody gorgeous,” grinned Frankie. “Love the blond.”

  “See, he recognised you,” said Ryan.

  “Course he did because I’m the only woman in the house. He’s hardly going to think I’m Jamesie, is he?” she exclaimed, hands on hips.

  “It wouldn’t be the first time that fucking poofter wore a wig,” said Frankie, pointing a finger at Jamesie, making Paul laugh.

  “Hey I never…”

  “Ready to go?” Rachel asked Battler and Bruiser, cutting off Jamesie’s denial.

  They both nodded and got to their feet, looking very smart in their best black suits with black shirts and ties.

  “Et tu Battler,” frowned Ryan.

  “We’ve already assessed the threat risk and it’s minimal and maintaining security at the church will be easy. On top of that we’re doing this because Rachel needs it. As her husband I thought you’d understand that.”

  Ryan looked from Battler to Rachel, who was staring back at him with determination and a little pleading in her eyes. She’d pulled the sunglasses off specifically so he could read her. She didn’t need him kicking off, she had enough to deal with.

  He folded his arms across his chest and rolled his eyes. “Fine, but I’m coming too.”

  She smiled and kissed him. “Thank you. But what if someone recognises you?”

  “I’m still bloody coming. Mikey, gun,” he said, holding out his hand.

  Mikey drew his pistol from the holster inside his jacket and put it in Ryan’s outstretched hand. Ryan checked it was loaded before tucking it into the waistband of his jeans.

  “Let’s go,” he said, stomping outside with a face like thunder.

  Rachel cast the others an apologetic look before following him out, Battler and Bruiser bringing up the rear.

  “I’m so glad I never got married,” said Frankie, watching them leave.

  Ryan sulked for most of the journey to the church, keeping his arms folded across his chest, grey eyes hard and fixed on the window, refusing to look Rachel’s way. At first she decided to let him sulk, until she considered that he was only trying to protect her and she started to thaw a little. When she snuggled up to him in the back of the car he remained stubbornly rigid, but he couldn’t withstand her body pressed against his for long. Soon he started to relent and eventually he put an arm around her shoulders. When he still refused to look at her she grasped his chin and tilted his face to hers. She kissed his cheek then his lips.

  “That’s not going to work,” he said.

  When she moved her attentions to his neck he started to cave in.

  He took her firmly by the shoulders and held her at arm’s length, wrestling with himself. He was extremely annoyed at her but that anger was being stripped from him just by looking at her. Sometimes his love for her was so strong he felt like he couldn’t breathe.

  “Fuck it,” he said before kissing her aggressively, crushing her to him.

  “You forgive me?” she said when he eventually let her come up for air.

  “Yes but I still think this is reckless and stupid.”

  “Objection noted.” She gave him an irresistible smile. “Thank you.”

  “You are the most stubborn, pigheaded, inflexible, headstrong woman I have ever met.”

  “Which is why you love me,” she purred, snuggling into him.

  “One reason out of many.” He kissed her hair and grimaced. “I hate this wig.”

  “It’s only temporary.”

  “It had better be and no sticking your head above the parapet again. This is the first and last time you go out in public until this is over.”

  “Understood.” Her expression turned grave. “If I don’t do this I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

  “It’s okay,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around her. “I know.”

  Understanding how hard this was going to be for Rachel, Ryan accompanied her into the church. Battler leant him a woolly hat he kept in the back of the car and, judging by Rachel’s expression when he pulled it on, it made him look ridiculous but it obscured his features and the moment he w
as inside the church he pulled it off, running a hand through his hair.

  After consultation with Sabine, they’d selected a lovely little stone church sat alone on a peak, looking down on the city. Sabine had said Laila loved to be out in the country and she would have liked this peaceful little haven.

  The only other mourners were Sabine and Daina, escorted to the church by another pair of Battler and Bruiser’s security guards. Sabine rose to embrace Rachel, took her hand and insisted she sit next to her for the service. No one commented - although they all noticed - that Bruiser sat beside Daina and tucked her hand into his arm. The pretty brunette smiled up at him and he smiled back with a softness in his eyes that seemed foreign on Bruiser.

  A plain-clothes detective sat at the back of the church. As Laila’s case was still open the police were obliged to attend the funeral. Taylor was making sure the real killer would never be found so the Laws could serve their own brand of justice.

  Just before the service began the door opened and Strang walked in, once more smart and composed, although he was still unshaven, eyes red and expression strained.

  “Who’s he?” Sabine whispered to Rachel, watching as he took a pew at the back.

  “He was in love with Laila.”

  “Stephen?”

  “Yes.”

  “She told me a lot about him. He thought she couldn’t speak English, she was too afraid Katia would find out. She said he was very kind to her, very gentle. He was the only one she liked. She loved him.”

  “Really?” said Rachel, realising how incredulous she sounded.

  “He was the only man who was ever kind to her.”

  “I think you should tell him, it will give him some comfort.”

  “I will, later.”

  They’d selected an expensive mahogany coffin for Laila. Rachel wanted to give her the best in death because she never got it in life. She cried for her, recalling how strong and brave she’d been and considered what justice there was in a world that allowed a woman like her to die while a man like Alex Maguire still lived.