The Claim

by Billy London

  Beppe jerked a thumb toward the back, and Rocco saw an array of chemicals. “Are we doing an experiment?”

  “Just working on a few things I want to try out.”

  “Beps, that’s not right.”

  “Trust me. It’s all good.”

  “This from the man who took away my ability to walk.”

  “For six hours, that was nothing. I’m working on the tweaks.”

  “You are fucking tweaking if you think you’re trying anything out tonight. Tonight is not the night for you to try anything.”

  “I thought I could just borrow DS Norcross for a week. Do a little work. Oh, by the way, you need to get Anna to talk to her mate for me.”

  “Oh God, no. Leave Mimi alone. She’s sensible. Human. She’s not a blow-up doll.” Beppe opened his mouth, but Rocco just cut him off. “I said no. Now hurry up. I want to get this over with and get back to my girlfriend.”

  Beppe cleared his throat. “Nick, did you hear that?”

  “I did indeed,” came Nick’s drawl from the car speakers. “Someone in a hurry?”

  “Don’t even...”

  “What, you haven’t got your hands dirty like this in a long time. Looks like you’ve changed religion. Worshipping the pu—”

  “Look, shut up.”

  “Yes, Mistress Anna, bestow on me whatever crumb you will give—”

  Beppe had his lips sucked into his mouth.

  “I’m not worshipping!”

  “I believe you,” Beppe said with a sincere grin.

  “Is the little one cold? Cold to be away from the sunlight of his woman?”

  “That sounded poetic,” Tony interrupted. “I’m waiting until you live on three hours of sleep with a newborn. See if you’ll be all romantic with your words then.”

  “Yeah, fuck you and your Maclaren buggy and ‘can’t, got to stay and look after the baby’ bullshit that’s forthcoming,” Rocco seethed.

  “I’m not mad you said that, coz I’m getting what I wanted. I bet you asked permission before you even left the house.”

  “No,” Rocco lied.

  “Pathetic Mamione.”

  “I heard that far and wide, Mamione.” Tony laughed. “You did, you asked if it was okay for you to go out and deal with the fucker that’s been haunting you.”

  “He’s off the force now. Makes him game,” Nick said, the glee in his voice unmistakable.

  Rocco ground his teeth. “Why are you so happy about it?”

  “I’m not, I’m just happy your grandmother sorted your love life out for you.”

  The car was filled with the howls of laughter. “What the fuck?”

  “Please, my dear child, my grandson is very good at sex. Don’t mind his hair so much.” Nick’s inflections of Nonna’s accent were uncanny. So much so, Beppe nearly swerved into a parked car laughing so hard.

  “Shut up.”

  “Come on,” Tony sounded breathless, “Your nonna did all the work. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a pallet bed set up next to yours to hand over the condoms.”

  “It’s fine,” Rocco said simply, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms. “You cunts carry on.”

  “You want cake, pretty? Yes? Good,” Nick mimicked. “Find my grandson a nice girl. If he doesn’t use his thing, it’ll fall off.”

  “I love your nonna.”

  Rocco was struggling to contain his rage. “I made one joke.”

  “It wasn’t funny,” Nick said with a shrug in his voice. “This is.”

  “My mother is African, you prick! I was winding you up!”

  “Don’t remember it that way,” Nick murmured. “I remember that I left your face intact, so your nonna could hook you up.”

  “I pointed out a valid fact, which was Gina never dated anyone like you!”

  “You sound stressed, Rocks,” Tony said. “We’ve done a lot for you. Why aren’t you getting at Beppe? He’s the one that drugged you.”

  Rocco glared at his supposed best friend, who didn’t take his eyes from the road. “You’re fine. No lasting damage.”

  “Fuck off, all of you. If I’m happy, I work better, I’m more focused—which you lot are trying to throw off by being dicks, so stop it and be sensible.”

  They were quiet for a moment before Nick said in a Nonna voice, “My Rocky’s so patient. I’ve never heard him raise his voice. He’d make some lucky girl a good husband.”

  Rocco heard a squeak from Beppe that was hastily turned into a cough. “That’s fine. Stay brave now. You wait.”

  “Bring it on, Bugsy,” Tony mocked.

  Nick started whistling Fat Sam’s Grand Slam. Anna was getting spanked for that, no question.

  “So when are we getting photos?”

  “What?”

  “You asked for pics of Lyds.”

  “You never sent them!”

  “Of course not. No one sees or touches what’s mine. Irrelevant. You asked, so I’m returning the favour.”

  “You are married!”

  “So I can’t look?”

  “No!” Rocco and Nick said sternly.

  “You two are mean and selfish. Beps wouldn’t do me like that.”

  “Mate, I like photography, but I don’t like you that much.”

  “Shut up, all of you. You are all fucked up.”

  Beppe agreed. “That is true.”

  Nick sounded nonchalant. “You met my mother—are you surprised?”

  Tony was quiet. “Nothing to say, Tone?” Rocco prompted.

  “I’m saner than the three of you put together. I’m saner than my own wife. I’m the voice of reason.”

  Rocco felt a laugh building in his chest at such nonsense and held it in. Beppe came to a halt. “There they are.”

  The simple Blue Ford flashed its lights twice and Beppe found a parking space, tucking himself behind the Ford. The streetlights flickered briefly before Tony and Nick emerged from the car. “Just resetting the CCTV,” Tony said, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You look like a man under the thumb.”

  “I swear, I’m going to knock you out in a minute.”

  “Calm down,” Nick ordered. “Save it for your pensioner copper.”

  Rocco cracked his knuckles. “His has been a long time coming.”

  Norcross was enraged. Fifteen years of service on the force for what? A twenty-minute meeting before he had to collect his belongings and he was officially retired. Whatever the government said about the increase to NARPO, his pension was bullshit. The whole situation was bullshit. He’d been so close. If he’d nailed Rocco Mamione’s girlfriend, then it would have been a sliding path to getting that slick-haired punk into the nick. Over-privileged, criminal cunt. He despised them, and especially despised the ease with which they corrupted others around him, not when he could have been loyal. When he could have benefitted. Instead there was a ream of officers who suddenly lost evidence, or turned a blind eye or didn’t write down things properly and lost leads at the drop of a hat. The same people would miraculously have more money in their pockets, but there was nothing he could stick on them to catch them out, any more than he could stick something on Rocco Mamione.

  Crushing his can of lager in one hand, he stirred the coloured photographs that he’d built up over years. Anna Taylor leaving college with piles of books under each arm. Rocco in the corridor of his father’s offices, the freeze frame from the CCTV that convicted his father. Whatever his father claimed, Rocco had been there that night.

  The one that he always came back to was Carmen Mamione, sitting on the steps of her house waiting for her husband to come home. Her dark hair rippled down to her waist and her fingers cradled a teacup. It had been midwinter, and she would have been so cold. Only when her husband returned did she go back inside with him. He’d watched her for some time, lightly stroking his cock. She was a stunning woman and the idea of conquering her, taking her right under Mamione’s nose, aroused him regularly. Norcross admired her loyalty and commitment to her ma
rriage, despite the humiliation thrown in her face. His own wife had barely given them three years together before she threw in the towel. Carmen only gave up after Mamione’s first month in prison. In her desperation to save him, she had never given Norcross what he wanted, and now the opportunity was gone. Like water through his fingers.

  Stacking the photos to one side, he focused on Rocco. Again it was a freeze frame from the station’s CCTV, just before his girlfriend was released by his Detective Inspector. Rocco’s demon dark eyes were looking directly at the camera, and they spoke of nothing but triumph. Catch me if you can! he seemed to say. He had to think—there had to be another way to prove himself, to get back what he’d earned. Why should a slimy lawyer who offended Norcross’s very senses be allowed to roam free and helping others as mired in the dirt stay off the streets as well? It was his job, and it wasn’t finished. Not yet. He’d earned his benefits, and no one would take them from him.

  There was an off-licence down the road which was open until three in the morning. He’d grab a few more cans of beer, get a takeaway and regroup. Yes, that was a better idea. Tucking his wallet into his jeans pocket and throwing on a jacket with his house keys rattling inside, Norcross left his house in a hazed blur. Had he really drunk that much? He barged into a few late-night revellers and grunted distastefully at them. They laughed. Was that at him? If it was a different time, he’d say something. But he was retired now. Without that shield of the force to protect him, he was naked. Fucking Mamione, he thought, his back teeth grinding with fury. On either side of him, two more people knocked into his shoulders. This time, he said something.

  “What’s your fucking problem?”

  “You,” the one on his left said. He found his arms grabbed and the distinct clicking sound of handcuffs. Before he could say a word he was hustled into a car. It skidded from the pavement and into the empty road.

  “What the fuck!” he yelped. Struggling to release his arms, even though he knew it was futile, he glanced to the passenger on his left. Rocco Mamione gave him a polite smile.

  “Good morning.”

  Norcross struggled harder, opening his mouth to call attention to anyone on the street. Someone in front of him turned around and brushed a white cloth under his nose. He sneezed and retched all at once. Rocco Mamione wasn’t looking at him, only tugging on black leather gloves. The last thing he heard before he passed out was, “We can do this in fifteen minutes, right?”

  Chapter Twenty

  Freezing cold water raked at Norcross’s face. Where was he now? It was barely lit, but he could tell he was in a warehouse, from his upside down view. He recoiled when his eyes connected with Rocco Mamione’s black gaze.

  “You haven’t got a long time left on this earth.” Fear choked him suddenly. All the time he’d chased the Mamione family, their danger to him hadn’t crossed his mind once. “So think of me as your priest.”

  “What would I know that you don’t?” he spluttered. “You got me off the force, isn’t that enough?”

  Rocco gave the barest of smiles. “No. It’s not. I told you, strike three.”

  “I can’t do anything else now!” he lied.

  “Forgive me if I don’t want to take that risk. What do you have on my firm?”

  “Nothing!”

  “That can’t be the case. As soon as that money was transferred to Ms. Taylor, you jumped on her. It was a private settlement.”

  “It was a guess.”

  “No, that’s not altogether true, is it.”

  Norcross found his spine. “See, it’s frustrating when someone doesn’t tell the truth, isn’t it?”

  He suddenly heard the echo of a gun chamber being loaded. It echoed across the warehouse like a firework. “Bored!” someone called out.

  “Good point,” Rocco agreed. “Someone must have told you, so who?”

  “Enzo Vitale’s solicitors,” he said quickly. There had to be a bargain to get out of this. “They told me that their client had concerns.”

  “That is bullshit. No one, not even Enzo Vitale, is that stupid.”

  Norcross swallowed, desperately trying to moisten his arid throat. Hanging upside down was making him feel nauseous and dizzy. “If I tell you...”

  “No deals.”

  “You can’t just—”

  “Finish that sentence and I’ll put a razor blade under your fingernails. Who?”

  “Me! I’ve been tracking you for years.”

  Rocco leaned back on his heels. “Why don’t I believe you? See, fact of the matter is, you’re not that good at your job. You never were. You just. Got. Lucky. So, for the last time, who told you?”

  “Imogen,” he gasped, “Imogen Barnes.”

  “I told you that bitch was crazy!” another voice in the dark blazed.

  Rocco didn’t take his eyes from Norcross. “She used her husband’s details with your firm’s bank and gave me a copy of the statement. Her husband can access company accounts, so she accessed your firm’s and told me. Now you know. Now let me go.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  “No one’s going to believe that I’ve just vanished.”

  “Your misfortune, Norcross, is that no one cares,” Rocco said simply, turning away. “As far as anyone else is concerned, you’ve gone on a long and well-deserved holiday.”

  When the bullet struck him in the forehead, Norcross was asking God for forgiveness.

  Anna had been staring up at the ceiling for the last three hours, pretending that she was all right with Rocco gone. Birds were chirping with the dawn. Lights from passing cars roved from one end of the room to the other. For some reason, she thought she’d be able to go back to sleep, but her mind was on hyper-drive. A variety of scenarios were plaguing her, all featuring Rocco close to death or dead. She had a shower to calm down. It didn’t work. She made herself a hot chocolate with so much whisky in it, most of it ended up down the sink after she coughed the alcohol up. Funny how despite their history, it didn’t even occur to Anna that Rocco could be with another woman. In fact, she’d love to see him try to have sex with another woman after what they’d done tonight.

  She made her way back to her room to pull on clothes and bundled her hair up to the top of her head in a careless knot. Rocco’s first mistake was to tell her where his spare gun was. His second was to abandon his phones. The passcodes were burned into her brain. It would take seconds to unlock them and find out where he’d gone. Rocco was a planner. Everything would be somewhere for him to record, even if it needed to be deleted at a later date. She tapped the gun against her thigh impatiently. With a sigh, she exchanged the gun for her own phone and dialled Beppe. It went straight to his answering machine, but she left a stirring message. “You’ve got five minutes to call me back and tell me where my man is.”

  He called her back in two. “It’s the Master.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Chill out, woman, we’re just coming to the house now.”

  She breathed out slowly, tears of relief stinging her eyes. “Good.”

  “You shouldn’t worry so much. We wouldn’t be able to stay in trouble if we got Rocks into some.”

  “Now I can tell you to shut up.” She heard the gentle roar of a car outside the house and without a thought for keys, she threw open the front door. The car had barely stopped moving before Rocco was out and heading toward her. If any doubt lingered in her mind that they weren’t meant to be or she was fooling herself by being with him, it vanished the moment she was in Rocco’s arms. Wrapped around him like a python was a more accurate description of how she clung to him, legs locked at his waist and arms tight on his neck. Her fingers automatically began to search for injury. She inspected his scalp, and then peered down the front of his shirt.

  “Annie, what are you doing?”

  “Making sure there’s nothing that needs medical attention.”

  He grinned. “Not medical...” She nudged him with her knees in disapproval. “I’m fine, I promise. It�
�s only what I needed to do. Just this once, Tempesta.”

  “Damn right. Let me go a minute.”

  He released her and, barefooted, Anna padded to the car. Beppe rolled down the window and begged, “Don’t hit me, Annie, he made me drive.”

  She instead leaned down and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for bringing him back.”

  Beppe went tomato red. “Er, there are some other dudes who’d appreciate that thanks. Especially since you’re braless.”

  “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” she muttered. “Which car?”

  He pointed in the direction of where a second car was resting on the other side of the road. A quick look across the road and she skipped over. She’d only met Tony and Nick once, and honestly, she’d forgotten how big they both were until they got out of the car.

  “I hope you’re reserving the violence for your boy over there,” Nick offered. “We just followed him along.”

  “Stop lying,” Anna admonished. “I heard you’re going to be a dad soon.”

  He shrugged. “As I’ve told my wife, the kid’s screwed.”

  She smiled and went on tiptoes to catch his cheek with her lips. “Not really. Thank you.”

  Tony didn’t let her say thank you before she was dangling in the air from his arms. “You’re welcome. I did all the work, Rocky just watched as per usual.”

  Anna hadn’t seen Rocco even cross the road, but he had a hand on Tony’s shoulder. “Mate, let go.”

  “You’re going on like I haven’t got a wife who wouldn’t hesitate to cut my balls off.” Tony snorted.

  “Thank you,” Anna said again, as Tony put her gently down on the tarmac. Rocco picked her up and said something in Italian to the two men, who bent over laughing in response.

  “You understand I have to tie you to a bed for at least twenty-four hours to compensate for tonight?”

  His dark eyes glinted in the streetlights. “I’ve got no problem with that.”

  Revenge was all very well and good, but it all came down to the same thing. Imogen Barnes had a baby. “I know it doesn’t make up for a thing that bitch did, but what else can I do?” Anna asked, rubbing her hands on her face. Rocco felt it was only right that Anna knew what Imogen’s role had been in her arrest and about Norcross’s unnatural interest in them both.