The Fix (Nightlong Series Book 2)

by Sarah Michelle Lynch

  “I don’t get it, why has this made you so hyped up?”

  “I got Roman to contact the new fixer using the unique messaging system they had set up and I asked him to relay a message from me saying I would pay whatever they want for my equipment back. Just my equipment.”

  “And?”

  “The bastard said a million quid.”

  “Which you’re not going to pay!”

  “I am.” I saw sweat bead on his forehead.

  “A million?”

  “I have to. I need to know who stole my business. I need to know that, even if it costs me everything. I need to know.”

  “People come back from the dead, you know? It could still be Shay! How do we know she wasn’t some criminal mastermind. How do we know?”

  “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I bribed the guy at the morgue and saw her body. It was her all right, with the birthmark on her ankle. I already thought of that and I had to be sure she was gone–”

  “I can’t believe…” I waved my arms around, perplexed, “…I can’t believe you go around doing this sort of stuff and you don’t tell me anything until I force it out of you.”

  “The stuff I do is mostly illegal and depending on which way you look at it, dangerous too. Plus I never had to ask your permission before, so why start now when knowing what I do won’t make your life any easier?”

  “I don’t want you doing this.”

  He shot to his feet and pointed angrily around the room, as though stabbing the air.

  “Ciara, I love you but you don’t know anything about me, sweetheart. Not really.”

  I stared, dumbstruck. He was right. He’d admitted that in the past, he’d become his own law, and he’d killed bad men to fix a better world for his clients. He’d done stuff I couldn’t even contemplate.

  Yet something in me wanted to yank him free… and out of this world.

  I wanted to fix him, pure and simple.

  “You’re right, I know very little. What I do know is that we could be happy, but only if you leave this life behind.”

  “It’s impossible. Too many people know who I am now and I can’t run forever. I have to be who I am because if I try to live a normal life, people will come after me; I’ll have no protection, no authority, no backup.”

  “My god, you don’t understand what I’m saying, do you? I won’t live like this so it’s either me or the job, that’s how it’s got to be.”

  He stared blankly and said something I wasn’t expecting. “Then go back home Ciara and find someone your parents would approve of because that man will never be me.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Everything in me still wanted to save him – even now.

  “Because, the person who conned me knows they’re dead in the water, the PO Box now useless. All the big clients are working with the police on building cases of blackmail. The new fixer will need money, and fast, and I can give that to them. I can get them this way, because there will be some exchange of money and I’ll use it to uncover their identity. I have to do this.”

  Shaking my head, I stared him down. “The reason you’re really doing this is that you won’t give up fixing… you won’t… and you want that life back. That’s the truth and we both know it. You find this easier than real life, than answering my questions, than making me your woman all those years ago like you should have done. You’ve had your cake and your team ate bullets for breakfast and now… time’s up. You either leave this life, or that’s it for us.”

  “You don’t understand, Ciara,” he whined, hands on his face.

  “I don’t, you’re right. I see options, where you only see a prison. A prison of your own making, a safe environment for your guilt, but a prison nonetheless.”

  “I hate it when you talk like this.”

  “I won’t bow down to you. I’m not some little woman.”

  “I never asked for you to be my fucking little woman, but you don’t understand the politics of my world. You understand even less than Daltrey did and this world got him killed.”

  My heart pounding, it dawned. “What?”

  “He threatened the future of Pernox and that got him killed, remember? Why else would someone kill him? Seriously. I can’t think of one.”

  “Nobody knows everything about a person. Perhaps your brother said the wrong thing to the wrong man out there in the real world, or some sort of random psycho had him executed for sport. There are things about people we don’t always know. Maybe your brother wasn’t whiter than white–”

  “No,” he bellowed, “and I’m not just saying that because I’m biased, because if you’d known my brother too, then you would also know that never did he befoul anyone. That wasn’t the man he was. You just don’t see it do you?”

  “No!”

  “Pernox has been a secure place for men to spill their secrets, and many have relied upon it for decades. I added a few upgrades with the cameras and mikes and all that so they didn’t know I was stealing their secrets right from under their noses, but the real reason they visit these places is to unburden themselves. The dommes aren’t part of the real world, they never go out… sign their NDAs like good girls and never speak a word of what goes on at Pernox, their pockets lined heavily enough after they leave that they never talk about the place that gave them a new life. What men need more than anything is someone impartial, someone they can avail all their secrets to, someone who won’t question and niggle and bite back at every little revelation–”

  “Yeah, that’s called a relationship. You might want to try looking up the definition sometime, you know?” I folded my arms angrily, on the defence, his back up too. “This world of yours is fucked up. You people, you just don’t know how to be happy, and you’re all fecked in the head. I don’t want this world for me… or for my children, or my husband. I especially don’t want it for me.”

  “This is who I am.”

  “Then it’s who you are, but it’s not who I am.”

  “Then… what?”

  “This… thing between us… it has a shelf life. You’ve just been ignoring that fact, Dante. We both have.”

  As the words came out, my heart almost caved in two. I couldn’t breathe when he was gone for just a couple of weeks, let alone forever.

  “You don’t mean that, Ciara.”

  “Try me.”

  I tried to stay strong, and remain upright, but inside I knew I could fall down any moment. The weight of lying to him grew so heavy, my feet were like solid stones threatening to drag me through the floor.

  You lied… too many times.

  I want to flee… forever.

  I also want to save you.

  I couldn’t bear feeling so torn.

  Part of me wanted to fly away, another wanted to stay.

  What was I to do?

  “You love me, I know you love me,” he said, his voice gritty.

  “I also have a stubborn streak in me thicker than lead or oceans or concrete. I’m Irish, or have you forgotten?”

  Out of my periphery, I watched him. He seemed to be shaking.

  “I have to do this. There’s no other way, Ciara.”

  “Go then… do what you have to do. I can’t promise I’ll be here when you get back, though.”

  “Ciara–”

  “You think I’m weak, but I’m not. I’m strong, I’ll go on… I’ll live.”

  My feet grew heavier by the second but I maintained my stance, refusing to budge an inch.

  “Wherever you go, I’ll find you again, I promise,” he said, beginning to head out of the room. “When this is over, I’ll find you.”

  “Nobody has forever; you of all should know that. We have moments, mere moments in time, during which we’re given brief windows to steal a smidgen of happiness for ourselves. Don’t you see? This is our moment. Ask yourself, is this what Daltrey would have wanted for you? Eh? Confronting some rogue to get justice for people who are dead and no longer care? Wherever your people are, and wherever Da
ltrey is, they are somewhere better and the only piece of heaven on earth we have is us, and you’re neglecting our chance here, to be happy. All you keep thinking about is righting the wrong, but the only wrong is inside your mind. The only wrong is you.” I gasped, breathless, regretting some of my words but not all.

  Stunned, he began walking away slowly, communicating he was beyond saviour, beyond me even. Our love didn’t mean anything, not when it came to this life.

  He took two steps more and then turned – seemingly one last thing on his mind.

  “Ciara,” he murmured, “we live in an evil world and I’m in the position I am because of the evil of this world, and I’m where I am… with the power to influence and change lives, for a reason. I can do things the police, the government, the secret services cannot. I existed all these years completely independently and whoever did this is close to me, I know that now. It’s what I’ve always been afraid of… that someone who claims to love me doesn’t actually give two shits. Worse… they despise me. I’m sorry if I’ve checked out occasionally over the past month or so, but I am purely trying to protect you and I’m trying to prepare myself for the worst.”

  “But–” I couldn’t even choke out the words, clogged on the roof of my mouth.

  There was no use in me trying to protect him – he wouldn’t allow it.

  He headed for the window. His back to me, he stood with his hands in his pockets looking out over the city.

  “I trusted so few… after all, it took me six years to trust even you. This person who’s done this to me… I can only imagine them to be pure evil. They’ve been wearing a veil, hiding themselves, and I don’t know what I’ll find beneath. I can’t have you put at risk. It’s the last thing I want.”

  “All I’ve ever done is love you,” I cried, tears washing over my cheeks so fast, they ran down my arms too. “I have loved you as completely and as deeply as humanly possible and it’s still not enough, is it? Everything I give… over and over, again and again, it’ll never be enough to heal the gaping wound his death left behind.”

  “No love is enough to heal a wound so deep, so profound. It’s my cross to bear, my burden to carry, and you should be with someone who loves you, someone less complicated. Someone who can give you everything. All I will do is trap you with people ready to betray us at a moment’s notice.”

  “That’s not true! What about Sexton?”

  He turned quickly, angrily retaliating, “I paid for his sister to have specialist treatment when she got cancer. He only stays behind because I paid him, like I pay everyone else!”

  I heard his words and interpreted them for myself – like he paid me, all these years. Like he was still paying me, giving me expense accounts and everything – all at my fingertips. Everything except his truth.

  “I didn’t mean it like that–” he began to protest, but I rushed to the bathroom and locked the door.

  I’d never endured this much pain in all my life, nor this much love, nor this much pleasure… and my heart couldn’t take it anymore. If this went on forever, I’d die of constant anxiety… my heart unable to cope, my heartbeats used up before my time.

  “I’m coming back for you, Ciara. Just wait for me, please.”

  There was quiet as he waited for a response, but I didn’t give him one.

  “I love you,” I mumbled to the ether, and when the front door went downstairs, I let myself crumble into a million pieces – already knowing it was over – and that there was nothing I could do to change him.

  He would never give up his former life for me and that was okay, I wouldn’t ask him to. If it kept him sane, fine. That didn’t mean I had to join his world, or his people.

  This was the end of the road for me.

  Done.

  Down.

  And–

  Out.

  Nineteen

  Dante

  I WALKED OUT AND ABOUT in Knightsbridge for a while, then grabbed a coffee, sat at a bench. Grabbed a sandwich, ate it at a bench. I did this for hours, repeating the process. Grabbed food, sat somewhere. If it rained, I hid somewhere.

  By evening, there’d been no calls on my burner phone, not even from Ciara. Nothing from Roman either. I couldn’t stand it in that house with her. Everything she said was right but she hadn’t stepped a mile in my shoes; she hadn’t walked the same path as me. I knew that what I did essentially made a normal life impossible for people like me, but I also knew Ciara could do better and one day, a guy her own age would turn her head and she’d find no complications with him. She’d have babies, settle down, and the guy wouldn’t fuck the little rug rats up like I would. She was better off without me.

  AT around eight o’clock that evening, a beep finally came. A text read:

  We meet in Zurich. Tomorrow morning.

  Goods in exchange for cash.

  TBC.

  Reading the message, I couldn’t help myself so I replied:

  Why’d you do it?

  Why do you care?

  I care. 12 people died.

  You never cared enough, obviously.

  I will find out who you are. I’m coming for you. You’re not safe.

  I was prepared to bargain with you, but now I think I’d rather see you suffer.

  WHY?

  WHY?

  YES, WHY?

  You killed someone I cared about.

  Who?

  It doesn’t matter. It only matters that you pay.

  I thought about the number of men I’d killed. Two were repeat rapists who kept getting away with it. I’d seen the evidence of the attacks, but two judges had been bought.

  A couple of other guys were assassins like myself, bastards I’d taken care of. They were punks getting in my way.

  The last kill I made with my own bare hands (one I didn’t pay for) was three years ago.

  Jeremy Clough.

  Jeremy had been called as a witness in a high-profile murder case but we knew he was lying – his testimony false. In fact he was part of a drugs ring and his dead mate was the drug lord, and he was willing to testify against an innocent man he’d framed for the murder. The so-called witness, Jeremy had found out the murder victim Charlie Muther had been having an affair with his wife Tracy. Charlie snuffed it and Clough set up Muther’s youngest son, Caton for the murder in an act of double revenge. My team dug deeper into the case when Tracy came to us with a big wad of cash and a dangerous look in her eye. Phone call logs revealed it all, but no cop, nor judge, wanted to tackle Clough who was set to take over as the new drug lord. Corruption rife, you only went up against people like him if you had balls of steel. Otherwise yourself and the rest of your family could end up butchered, no question of who did it, but no evidence to link them either.

  The other kills I made were animals, but Jeremy’s crime was one of passion, something the French even term forgivable. But… I wasn’t going to let Caton, an innocent young man go to prison for allegedly killing his own father. I took action and put a bullet in Clough’s head with a military grade rifle, sat in a bird’s nest high above one of his factories in the Peak District.

  I never told anyone what I’d done, not even Sexton, so how did anyone know?

  What do you really want?

  Justice.

  For what? Or whom?

  Jeremy.

  So, it was Jeremy.

  Who was he to you?

  Doesn’t matter.

  Who was he?

  There was a long pause before another response:

  My brother.

  He killed his best friend.

  We don’t know that.

  He did. Call logs, alibis, exchange of money… Tracy. It was all obvious really, but the police were too scared to dig deeper. Caton had blood planted on his clothes and Jeremy said he saw the kid standing over the body before he ran away, making himself look guilty.

  My brother was a good man!

  He was a drug dealer. You are deluded.

  He helped kids… gave them
jobs.

  Yeah… in dealing!

  No, this isn’t right.

  How did you find out about me?

  Paris.

  What could only be described as shock hit me square in the chest. No. It couldn’t be… but…

  Paris?

  The restaurant where we met… where you recruited me… you were there with your lady. I knew your face from the papers and then… I watched you leave in a car, and I saw the driver… and I recognised the driver. I was visiting my brother the day he got shot… and that driver… so smart, parked round the corner. I’ve always walked everywhere, I walk… and I notice things on streets. I never forgot how out of place that driver looked as I walked by the Phantom, parked on the outskirts of a disused South Yorkshire cotton mill. Then…

  Coincidence.

  What a bitch coincidence was. I’d killed only a handful of men, most of them deserving of death without question. Just this one… he had to come back to haunt me, didn’t he? Through Ayda of all people, one woman who was far from stupid.

  I made it my mission to impress you the next time you visited with her, and I did… and you offered me a job, saying your current chef was rubbish.

  He was, compared to you.

  It was so easy. I used to sneak up behind the staff when they thought I wasn’t looking. I knew your codes. I listened to them as they talked in the dining room. They all thought your work ethic was madness and they always wondered if… one day when you were gone, from premature death or murder or something – what would happen to them? It planted the seed in my mind.