The Broken_A gripping thriller that will have you on the edge of your seat

by Casey Kelleher

  Jenson nodded. Realising his fatal error too late.

  ‘I get that now, boss. Honest I do. Daniel made out as if he’d squared it with Gem. I thought it was legit. A direct order—’

  ‘But it wasn’t. You fucked up, and now my little girl will be lucky if she ever sees the light of day again,’ Alfie said sadly. The need to get back to the hospital as soon as he could washing over him in waves now, so angered by these two bastards. So useless at the hospital, just sitting there watching his daughter only breathing with the help of machinery, he’d had to come here tonight and sort this out once and for all. He couldn’t just leave Jennifer up there on her tod. As much as he needed to sort these two scrotes out, he needed to get back to his Megan more.

  His anger subsiding then, Alfie gained a bit of clarity. Back by his daughter’s side where he belonged. Not here wasting his breath with this piece of scum, he finally realised.

  With that Alfie Harris gave Jenson Reed one last almighty shove, enjoying seeing the flicker of realisation at what he had just done. The imminent fear plastered on Jenson’s face as he fell backwards. The panic as he tried to latch on to the very man who had pushed him, as his fingertips brushed against the concrete balcony wall.

  Screaming loudly as he fell to his death, he landed with a dull thud on the pavement below.

  Leaning over the balcony, Alfie shook his head sadly.

  ‘Fuck me, would you look at that, Gem,’ he said pointing down to what was left of Jenson’s mangled body, ‘I weren’t lying when I said he would make a right fucking mess, was I?’

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Sam Miles was starting to feel scared now.

  Daniel’s behaviour had taken a rapid decline since he’d got out of the shower. He’d continued drinking, of course, and Sam suspected that was the main cause of the weird way he was conducting himself tonight. Acting all paranoid and saying that someone might come to the flat looking for him. That if they did, Sam would have to lie and say that he hadn’t seen Daniel all evening.

  Daniel had made Sam swear.

  Then he’d begun to pace the room, stopping every few minutes so that he could peer out of the blinds, convinced as he stared out into the darkness that every shadow was really the silhouette of someone hiding out there, watching him. Waiting for him.

  He was already drunk when he’d turned up here tonight, but since then, he’d managed to down over half a litre of vodka neat and Sam had lost track of the amount of coke Daniel had snorted. Enough to induce some kind of a psychotic episode by the looks of it. The man was out of control.

  Sam might not be able to do anything about the drugs, but he could at least try and ensure that Daniel didn’t drink any more alcohol. Unbeknown to Daniel, he had managed to get to the kitchen and empty out the contents of any other bottles of drink that he had lying around the house without him seeing, tipping the lot down the sink as he prayed that Daniel would pass out shortly. Surely he wouldn’t be able to stomach much more? He’d been drinking on and off all day. But now he was starting to talk shit too. Slurring his words, speaking in rhymes and riddles.

  Sam had trouble understanding what Daniel was actually talking about. None of his conversations were making any sense. It was just mindless ramblings. Ranting and raving about anything and everything that came into his head. Though this latest outburst was suddenly silenced. Interrupted by a noise at the front door.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Daniel said. Placing his finger over his lips, indicating to Sam to be quiet.

  Though to be fair, Sam hadn’t heard a thing.

  ‘There’s no one there, Daniel. You’re hearing things!’ Imagining things more like, he thought. The man was coked up to his eyeballs. He watched as Daniel peered through the crack in the blinds once more.

  ‘Fuck. He’s here.’ His eyes wide, alert as he searched for something to use as protection. A bat. A pole. Anything.

  Sam didn’t have fuck all like that in his flat. The bloke was under the illusion that a poxy intercom on the door was enough to deter burglars or unwanted house guests, that’s how naive and deluded Sam could be. The bloke lived on another planet.

  Grabbing a small wooden stool and holding it above his head, Daniel peered out of the front door’s spy hole.

  Waiting, holding his breath.

  ‘There’s no one there, Daniel,’ Sam said, walking up behind him, before taking a look for himself. His eye peering out into the empty corridor. Then, as if to prove his point, Sam opened the front door. ‘Look, see. There’s no one out here.’

  ‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ Grabbing Sam roughly by his arm, Daniel dragged him back inside. ‘Are you fucking stupid or something?’ he bellowed, slamming the door behind them both before throwing Sam up against the wall. ‘Are you trying to get me fucking killed? I said don’t open the door. Don’t go anywhere near it. Do you understand? Not for fucking anyone.’ Holding Sam tightly now by his throat, unaware of the strength behind his attack, Daniel was too far gone to care. ‘I said “do you understand”?’

  Sam nodded. Relieved when Daniel loosened his grip and let him go.

  ‘This is bullshit. I can’t stay here,’ Daniel said, knowing full well that it would only be a matter of time before Alfie Harris caught up with him. As much as he’d told Jack Taylor to smooth things over for him, to make things right, Daniel didn’t have much faith in the man actually doing so. Jack was supposed to be keeping him in the loop, letting him know what had gone on. But he’d heard nothing from the fucker, and he wasn’t answering his phone either, which spoke volumes to Daniel.

  The fucker was a snake.

  The fact he’d kept quiet about Daniel killing his own father, one of Jack’s oldest friends, was testament to that. Picking up his phone, he dialled Jack Taylor for the umpteenth time. Only surprise, surprise. He still didn’t pick up.

  ‘He’s avoiding me!’ Daniel said, moving across the flat again, walking erratically, as if, if he didn’t move he’d combust from the rage inside him. ‘It wouldn’t surprise me if the fucker tried to stitch me up now, too. I bet that’s what’s fucking happened. Alfie Harris is on the warpath and Jack Taylor’s probably up the man’s arse, hoping that he catches up with me.’ He cursed himself for pushing Jack Taylor too far.

  ‘Who are you talking about? Why is Alfie Harris on the warpath? What the fuck’s going on?’ Sam said, hoping that Daniel would burn himself out soon. Until then, he needed to try and talk him down from this mood he was in. Try and restore some normality to his flat tonight. Try and get Daniel to at least start talking some sense.

  ‘Jack Taylor. The bastard thinks I won’t talk, but I fucking will. If he thinks that I’m going down for this on my own, he’s got a shock coming his way. He’ll do time for my father’s death too. He was there.’

  ‘Your father’s death?’ Sam said, horrified now at what he thought Daniel was saying. ‘What do you mean he was there too? Did Jack kill him?’

  Sam didn’t like the sound of any of this. He knew how Daniel’s father’s murder had fucked up his boyfriend’s head. As much as Daniel did his hardest to try and hide the fact that he was suffering, Sam knew. He’d heard him having nightmares. Screaming out his father’s name in his sleep. Waking up in pools of sweat, claiming that he couldn’t remember anything, and Sam had never had the guts to broach the subject with him afterwards, worried that he might upset him, or worse still, make him angry.

  Sam figured that Daniel would talk about his grief when he was ready. Only, Sam didn’t know how much longer that was going to be. Instead of dealing with his feelings, Daniel just seemed to bottle them all up. Blocking them out with any means he could, which, lately, had been mostly alcohol and cocaine. He’d been drinking heavily and snorting coke every day, without fail. It wasn’t until Daniel mentioned that his mother had been an alcoholic that Sam had started to wonder if this was more than just his way of mourning. Perhaps alcoholism and drug addiction was some kind of genetic illness that had been passed from p
arent to child.

  And Daniel was quickly spiralling out of control.

  It didn’t help that Daniel was a nasty drunk either. The man seemed to be constantly goading for a row. That was the part that Sam found the hardest to take: how Daniel would always hit out at him. Making his comments and jibes so personal.

  ‘Fuck me, Sam, for some rich little Chelsea boy you really are thick as fuck, ain’t you? All that money your parents dished out on those university fees are going to be wasted on you!’ Daniel was sneering now. Turning on Sam, which was exactly what he had been trying his hardest to avoid.

  Daniel had been doing this more and more lately. Starting rows. Taking out his angst on him and he wasn’t sure that he was able for much more.

  ‘Look, Daniel. I don’t want to fight with you—’

  ‘’Course you don’t. You know why? ’Cause I’m capable of some sick and twisted shit, Sam. Stuff that you know fuck all about.’

  ‘What the fuck are you talking about?’ Sam said now in despair.

  ‘I’m talking about me, Sam. The fact that you haven’t got the first fucking clue about me! You think you’re so smart, so fucking superior, but you’re nothing.’

  Sam closed his eyes, knowing that there was no point in trying to reason with Daniel when he was in this kind of mood. Enough was enough. He couldn’t do this again tonight. Or any other night.

  ‘Don’t you think you’ve had enough to drink now? I don’t think you should stay here tonight if you’re just going to keep drinking that shit. It ain’t good for you, Daniel. It fucks with your head. Maybe you should go home tonight?’

  Daniel started laughing. Really laughing. So hard that tears rolled down his cheeks. Sam stood there not knowing what the joke was that he’d clearly missed.

  ‘You’re asking me to leave?’ Daniel chuckled. ‘Oh behave, Sam. You don’t get to tell me to do shit. If you don’t like me drinking then I’ll tell you what, why don’t you fucking leave?’

  Rolling his eyes up, Sam knew he was going to have an almighty argument on his hands soon if he didn’t put a stop to this now.

  ‘Daniel. It’s my flat. You can’t chuck me out of my own flat.’

  ‘Who said I was going to chuck you out?’ Daniel said, getting up and lunging at his new so-called boyfriend, sending him crashing to the floor, as he lay on top of him. His hands wrapped around Sam’s throat.

  ‘I could just kill you,’ Daniel said then. Tightening his grip as he watched for the fear in Sam’s eyes. ‘I could strangle the last breath out of your whingey fucking throat and then dump your dead body in the bathtub. And leave you there to rot.’

  ‘Daniel you’re hurting me. Stop messing about,’ Sam said. Fighting for breath. Trying to make light of Daniel’s threat. Though Daniel was starting to shit him up a bit now. He was acting crazy, and he was beginning to wonder just what Daniel really was capable of doing, especially when he was in one of his moods.

  ‘That’s just it though, Sam. See what you just did there? You underestimated me? That’s what I’ve had to put up with my whole life. People thinking they know me when they don’t know anything at all!’

  ‘I just know you and you’re not a fucking monster.’

  ‘Oh but I am. That’s just it. I’m capable of things you know nothing about. Things you couldn’t even fucking imagine.’ Daniel was really pissed now, and he was enjoying the horrified look on Sam’s face. The way that the man was trying to talk him down and pacify him. It was wholly entertaining, though a little insulting if Daniel was honest.

  As if Sam Miles could control him?

  No one told Daniel what to do. No one.

  ‘I wasn’t mugged tonight. That blood that I was covered in wasn’t mine. It belonged to some poncy-looking barman in some bender’s pub in Soho. The type of bloke who fucking loved himself, you know. Thought he was a real fucking player.’ Daniel grinned now at the memory. ‘He didn’t even ask me my name, and yet he was quick enough to get on his knees and suck my cock. He actually disgusted me. Especially afterwards when he started acting as if I owed him something in return. So I killed him. I beat the living shit out of him. Stamped on his fucking head until there was nothing left.’

  Sam stared at Daniel, willing him to make some kind of a joke. To say that it wasn’t true, but Daniel wasn’t laughing. He wasn’t even smiling now. Instead he was staring Sam dead in the eye, telling him the truth. Getting off on the fear that was etched on Sam’s face as he listened to Daniel’s admission.

  ‘Daniel. Stop talking shit. You’re drunk.’ But he knew it was true, deep down, that Daniel wasn’t fucking about with him. ‘You don’t know what you’re saying!’ Sam said, knowing that Daniel shouldn’t be telling him all this. He couldn’t tell him all of this. Otherwise Sam would be in danger himself; knowing Daniel’s deepest, darkest secrets he’d become a liability.

  ‘That’s just it. I do know what I’m saying, and I know what I’m doing, too. I’m proving every fucker out there wrong. They all said that I wasn’t good enough. Do you know that. My father pretty much said so to my face. How I’d never be as clever or fucking successful as Nancy. How he was ashamed of me for being gay. He used to look at me with such disappointment and disgust.’

  Daniel picked up the bottle of vodka from the side and took another large swig. Staring in through the glass with disappointment as he realised it was coming to an end.

  ‘Only I showed him, didn’t I?’

  He was laughing now. Sliding down the wall. Slumped over with the bottle of vodka between his legs. He looked pitiful, almost. And for a second Sam felt the same pull he’d felt for Daniel when he first met him. He saw just a flicker of vulnerability that made Sam want to try and fix him.

  It was only fleeting though. Quickly replaced by anger once more. Looking up with that twisted hateful smirk that Sam had started to loathe about him.

  ‘Who do you think it was that helped to blackmail my cunt of a father? Me and that guy he was seeing. Gavin Hurst. Gavin was the same age as me, can you fucking believe that? My dad was knobbing someone the same age as me!’ Daniel shook his head with disgust. ‘My two-faced, hypocrite of a father underestimated me too. He had no fucking clue that all along me and Gavin were setting him up. The job was supposed to be so simple. Gavin filmed them both having sex so we could blackmail him, only, my father found out and he killed Gavin. He beat the living shit out of him. Stamped on him until he was nothing more than a bloody pulp. Just like I did to that bloke tonight. See. We were two of the same me and my dad. Only my dad couldn’t fucking stand me. For him it must have been like looking in a mirror. I don’t know what happened, but when I went to collect the money from my father that night, something just clicked inside me. I dunno what it was. Because he rejected me, he hated me? Fuck knows! The gun was in my hand. My finger pressing against the trigger and then, next thing I knew, I just did it. I shot him. It was as easy as that. I don’t even think I meant to kill him, you know. I just wanted to hurt him, like he’d hurt me. Just wanted to see some fear on his face for once. Some real emotion instead of the fake bullshit he insisted on showing the world each day. I just wanted to see his mask slip.’

  On hearing Daniel’s confession. Sam felt physically sick. Daniel was going around killing people because he was fucked up in the head about the way his dad had treated him? Fuck! He’d just confessed to killing Jimmy Byrne too. His own father. And here he was, stuck alone, in his flat with the man.

  A murderer. Confessing all his sins.

  Sins which Sam didn’t want to hear about.

  He wouldn’t be safe now.

  If Daniel trusted him, it wouldn’t be an issue, but Daniel Byrne didn’t trust anyone.

  ‘You don’t know what you’re saying, Daniel. You don’t mean any of this. I’m sure it didn’t happen like that. I mean, come on. You’re not like that,’ he said, giving Daniel the easy option out of this, the chance to backtrack on what he’d just told him. Now that Daniel had confessed, what would he do to
Sam to ensure that he didn’t start talking now too?

  ‘Why aren’t you fucking listening to me, Sam? I just told you. I am exactly like him. But now I can’t seem to stop. Look at that guy from the bar tonight. That’s exactly what my dad did, isn’t it? He beat the shit out of Gavin Hurst. Murdered him. How ironic life is, eh? My father acted like he hated me, when all along it was because we were the fucking same. Both gay. Both liars. Both sadistic fucks!’

  Sam could feel the bile rising at the back of his throat. Suddenly scared to even be in Daniel’s company.

  He was right about his last statement. He was a sadistic fuck. A psychopath.

  This was bad. Really bad.

  If Daniel was capable of murdering his own father in cold blood, he wouldn’t think twice about hurting Sam. Really hurting him. Killing him even.

  Feeling the panic building inside of him, he glanced towards the front door, trying to calculate how quickly he could get to it. Daniel was drunk; he’d have a few seconds delay as he tried to get to his feet.

  The lock! Shit! He remembered now that Daniel had double locked it. Paranoid about keeping Alfie Harris out. It would delay him, slightly, but there was still a chance that he could make it.

  But looking back at Daniel, and seeing he was already reading his mind, that Sam wouldn’t have time, he made a run for the bathroom instead. Grabbing Daniel’s phone from the chair as he fled, before he barricaded himself in. Bolting the door just in time to hear Daniel beating his fists against the door.

  ‘That’s right, you hide away in there, you soft little prick,’ Daniel shouted. Saddened that Sam couldn’t hack hearing the truth about him. That said about as much as Daniel needed to know about Sam Miles. The useless waste of space was just as bad as the rest of them.