by Kerry Kaya
“I won’t.” The truth was, she didn’t believe there was anything else that could possibly hurt her. She’d lost her dad, and lost the man she believed was the love of her life.
“Well, if it’s what you want, then I will support you.” She turned to look at Stacey and gently nudged her in the ribs.
“Yep, what your nan says.” She gave a sad smile. “If this is what you want, then I will do everything I can to help you.”
Karen hugged her mother to her. “I’ve got just one thing I want to ask.” She paused. “And I really hope that you say yes. It would mean so much to me.”
“What’s that?”
Karen took a deep breath. “If it’s a boy, I want to call him Thomas, after Dad.”
For a brief moment, Stacey closed her eyes. When she opened them, there was a sparkle there that had been missing ever since her husband’s death. “That,” she said, clasping her daughter’s hand, “is the greatest honour you could ever give to your dad. He would have been chuffed to bloody bits.”
Karen grinned. “I know,” she said.
* * *
“And then there were two.” Jimmy gave his brother and Bethany a mock sad smile. He took a seat on the sofa once more. “Now, tell me about the robbery. I know you were planning something.”
Gary tore his tear-stricken eyes away from his son’s lifeless body and fought against the ropes binding him, almost making the chair topple over. “I’m gonna fucking kill you for this, you cunt.”
Jimmy shook his head. “No, Gary. It’s me who is going to be doing the killing.” He turned the bloody knife in his fist from side to side, inspecting it. “Surprising how much you bleed out, isn’t it? But then, you two would know all about that, wouldn’t you? I was told that Tommy, our brother, bled so much that he practically lost his whole blood supply.”
Bethany closed her eyes in distress, recalling the moment. As much as she had hated Tommy, she’d loved him, too.
Not one to miss a trick, Jimmy stabbed the knife toward her. “What’s with the tears?” He glanced across to his brother. “That’s what all of this is about, isn’t it? Now as for him,” he said, nodding his head at Gary, “I know he loathed Tommy, but you, you had no reason to want him dead. You loved him, but you couldn’t have him, could you? That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? You were the ultimate woman scorned.”
“No,” she spat.
A smile spread across Jimmy’s face. “I’m right, ain’t I? This is what this was all about; you couldn’t have him.”
“No, it’s not,” she roared back. She swallowed deeply and turned her head to look at Gary. “Don’t listen to him. It isn’t true. He’s trying to turn you against me.”
Gary turned his head away.
Jimmy began to laugh. “You can say what you want, darling, because deep down, Gary knows it is true, don’t you, Gal?”
Gary scowled.
“So,” Jimmy flapped his hand, dismissing the conversation. “Back to the robbery. What was it you were planning?” He held his hand up as though to stop Gary from answering. “No, let me guess. I think,” he said, spreading out his hands in a theatrical gesture, “you were planning to get us all on that job, and then you, or maybe her,” he glanced across to Bethany, “were going to phone the old bill and get us all nicked. Am I right?”
Gary sighed and turned his head away as though bored.
“With all of us sent down,” Jimmy continued, “you thought everything would be left for you to run?” Jimmy clapped his hands together. “It’s genius, even if I say so myself, except you missed out one vital detail. You weren’t banking on the fact that the businesses belong to Stacey now, and after her, they go to Karen, and after her, they go to Tommy’s grandchild.” He took pleasure in seeing their eyes widen. “In fact, Gal, you are so far down the pecking order that you were never likely to ever get your hands anywhere near the businesses.”
“What grandchild? Tommy didn’t have any grandchildren?”
“Oh, didn’t I mention it?” He nodded his head toward Cameron’s still body. “Our Cam over there was about to become a daddy.” He leaned forward in the seat, taking great pleasure in the shock that spread across his brother’s face. “So you see, Gal, you really were far, far down the line, and I mean really far.”
* * *
Maria Mariano turned over in bed and coughed. She could feel a heaviness across her chest and coughed even harder. Opening one eye, she looked up at the ceiling. Despite a street lamp outside her bedroom window, the room was pitch black. With her hand across her mouth, she sat up and snapped on the bedside light. The room was filled with black smoke.
Her eyes streamed, and her chest heaved as she made her way down the cluttered hallway. She threw open the door to her son’s room and grappled along the wall until she felt his bed. “Wake up,” she cried. As she pushed her weight down on the divan, she could barely breath, and coughed so hard she believed that she may very well cough up her lungs. “Wake up, Son,” she begged, pulling on his arm.
When he finally opened his eyes, just like his mother did, Marco began to cough and heave.
“Fire,” Maria rasped. “There’s a fire.”
Together, they made their way out of the room, feeling along the hallway wall, as they made their escape. The front door was within their sights, and with their nightclothes held over their faces, they grappled with the lock. Hot to the touch, the brass knob finally turned, and they flung open the front door, gasping for air.
They inched their way down the metal staircase, coughing and spluttering as they did so. Six-foot-tall flames shot out from the café below them.
Out on the street, residents had come out to see the commotion. The Mariano’s inched their way around to the front of the property. Black streaked soot had settled across their skin as they stood on the pavement. The café was destroyed.
“No,” Maria wept.
She placed her arms around her son and cried even harder. In the distance, the wail of a fire engine could be heard, only it was too late; nothing from the business would be salvageable. The fact that they had had a lucky escape was at the forefront of her mind. They were lucky to still be alive—lucky they hadn’t been burnt to a crisp, along with the business.
It was a stark reminder that you didn’t upset the Carter family in any way, shape, or form.
* * *
“So, the question is, what do I do about the two of you?” Jimmy sat forward on the sofa, not taking his eyes away from them.
Gary snarled. “You ain’t got the …”
“The bottle,” Jimmy finished off the sentence and his eyes flickered toward Cameron. “I think I’ve just proved that I do.”
“I’ll go back to Spain, I won’t ever come back, I won’t ever tell anyone about what happened here.” Bethany began speaking fast, tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Not an option.”
“But I won’t say anything, I swear to you I won’t. If you let me go …”
“I said, not a fucking option,” Jimmy roared.
She began to cry. Her nose was running, and her chest heaved. “Dear God,” she wailed. “Please, just let me go.”
Jimmy stood up. “You can pray to whoever the fuck you want, you walking out of here isn’t an option.”
She began to cry even louder, bordering on hysterical.
“Shut up,” Jimmy hissed.
Still, she screamed and howled.
In one steady action, he sliced the knife across her throat, silencing her.
As hot, sticky blood sprayed over him, Gary took a sharp intake of breath.
“Had to be done, bruv.” Jimmy shook his head, as if apologising. “She was starting to give me a headache.”
Once more, Gary fought against the ropes. “You won’t get away with this,” he spat. “If I don’t kill you first, you’ll go down for it.” He allowed a sneer to crease his face. “But then again, you’ll probably like that, won’t you?”
Jimmy shrugged his shoulders,
choosing to ignore the remark. “That’s the chance I’m willing to take,” he answered. He resumed his position on the sofa. “You ain’t got anyone now, Gal, have you?” He glanced across to the two bodies. “Everything you cared about is gone.” He studied his brother’s face and spread out his arms. “What are you waiting for? Are you not going to beg me not to kill you, too?”
A snarl twisted across Gary’s face. “I’m more of a man than that.”
Jimmy began to laugh. “I don’t think man is the word I’d use.” He leaned back on the sofa, making himself comfortable. “I should have known it was you. All along, I should have known. You hated Tommy. You hated the fact that she loved him.” He pointed the knife toward Bethany. “She never wanted you; she used you to make Tommy jealous.”
“That’s a lie,” Gary roared.
“No, it ain’t. She was obsessed with him, and she used you in her sick games.”
“No.”
“Yes, Gal. Only you were too sick in the head to realise that fact.” He pointed his finger to his temple and could feel the anger begin to ripple through him once more. “His whole life he had in front of him, and you, you no good cunt, you stole it away from him.”
At this, Gary smirked.
“What, that’s funny to you, is it?” Jimmy jumped to his feet. “Everything he had to live for, and you took it away from him.” He stabbed his finger forward. “You took his life, you took my brother, and for what? Fucking jealousy? All because you knew she wanted him and not you.”
Gary continued to smirk. “He deserved it, and I’d do it again, without a second thought.”
“He deserved fuck all.” Jimmy lunged forward. He stabbed the knife down repeatedly. He couldn’t stop; he didn’t want to stop. “You took his life and you took my brother away from me,” he roared.
Finally exhausted, Jimmy dropped the knife to the floor. His chest heaved heavily; his heart raced wildly. It was over. He stood for a moment, contemplating his next move, oblivious to the fact that he was covered in his brother’s blood.
Taking the knife, he sawed through the ropes, and half carrying, half dragging their bodies, he placed them onto the velvet sofa. He puffed out his cheeks from the exertion, then set about tidying away any evidence. The ropes and knife, he placed into the holdall. The dining chairs, he replaced around the table.
He cast his eyes around the room, satisfied that there was nothing left to incriminate him. As an afterthought, he switched on the television, then made his way into the kitchen. There, he turned a knob on the cooker. The hiss from the gas was loud, as the unmistakable scent filled his nostrils. Opening the back door, he stepped outside and gently closed the door.
The garden was in darkness and shaded by trees on either side. With no immediate neighbours, he was able to loiter unseen. He took the holdall to the end of the garden. Pulling out a fresh sweater, he used the edge of his T-shirt to wipe blood away from his face, then hastily changed.
Once done, he began to count and waited fifteen minutes before slowly making his way back down through the garden and opening the kitchen door. The heady scent of gas hit him, making his eyes water. Pressing his hand across his mouth and nose, he looked around him. He would need to judge this to perfection, and he bounced on his feet, preparing himself.
He slammed the kitchen door closed and continued to bounce. In his pocket, he took out a box of matches; still, he bounced. He would have less than a second to get himself clear of the explosion, and in his mind, he estimated how far he could travel down the garden in that time. It wouldn’t be far, he guessed.
Looking up at the night sky, he braced himself for what was to come. “You can do this,” he muttered. “You have to do it.” He continued to bounce.
Finally, he was ready. He struck the match, an orange flame spluttered to life. He looked from the flame to the end of the garden, and with his hand on the door handle, he hastily yanked the door open and threw the match into the kitchen.
He had barely got as far as the end of the patio when the explosion took place. The blast threw him up in the air, and he landed awkwardly in a heap, busting his ankle in the process.
He pulled himself upwards. The house was virtually destroyed. He staggered toward the end of the garden, limping heavily as he did so, whilst the sound of the blast rang heavy in his ears. Grabbing up his holdall, he slung the strap over his shoulder, and taking a deep breath to quash the pain inside of him, he scaled the fence into the night.
It was over. No evidence of his involvement would ever come back to haunt him.
* * *
One Year Later
Sunlight bounced across the black marble headstone, as they gathered at Tommy’s graveside.
“Can’t believe it’s been a year already, can you?” Stacey asked.
Jimmy shook his head. Still, he missed his brother. He had a feeling he always would.
They laid flowers in front of the headstone and stood back slightly.
The three children began to make their way toward the pathway, and Jimmy smiled gently as he nodded his head toward Karen’s son, Thomas. “A new generation of Carters, eh Stace?”
Stacey beamed. “I love the bones of that little boy. They’re right what they say, you know. There really is no love like the love you have for your grandchild.”
Jimmy nodded his head and gestured toward the grave. “Do you mind if I have a couple of minutes on my own with him?”
“Of course not.” She moved aside, giving her brother-in-law some privacy.
Crouching down, Jimmy traced his fingers across the inscription. As always, when he came to Tommy’s grave, he felt emotional. “I’m sorry, bruv.” His voice cracked as he spoke. “All your life, you looked out for me, and when you needed me the most, I wasn’t there for you.”
He closed his eyes, swallowing down the hard lump in his throat, then straightened up. As he turned around in the distance, he spotted his parents across the cemetery. They were visiting Gary’s grave. Not once had Frank visited his eldest son’s final resting place, and for that reason alone, Jimmy loathed his father more than ever.
Stacey followed his gaze. “I still can’t believe it. A gas explosion, of all things.”
“Yeah.” He tore his eyes away from his parents and glanced across to Karen and baby Thomas. He was a sweet little kid, and Tommy would have been as proud as punch.
He closed his eyes, briefly gathering his thoughts. No one must ever know the truth, he decided. No one must ever know how one of the child’s grandfathers had killed the other. Nor how Gary, the Judas, had been willing to set up his own brothers and nephews.
“Stranger things happen, I suppose.” Stacey watched his reaction closely. He’d never told her the truth, not even hinted at it. He didn’t need to. It was written all over his face.
He was so like Tommy that she could read him like an open book. She placed her hand on his back, knowing for a fact that she would take his secret to the grave. The knowledge that he had killed his younger brother in revenge for her husband’s murder would forever remain unspoken between them.
“I’ll miss you when you go home.” She changed the subject and gave him a warm smile. “What time is your flight?”
Jimmy looked down at her and caught hold of her hand. “Not until this evening. Will you be okay when I leave?” he asked sincerely.
“I have to be, don’t I?” She looked across to her children and grandson. “I have them to think about now.”
He nodded his head. “We could grab some lunch before I go. My treat.”
“I’d like that.” She patted his arm and began to walk toward the pathway where her children were standing.
With one last glance at his brother’s grave, Jimmy chased after her. “Hey, Stace, I’ve got an idea. Why don’t you sell up and come and live in Spain?” Even as he said the words, he knew that she would never leave her husband behind.
“How about a holiday home instead?” Stacey grinned. “What do you reckon kids?” T
hey cheered in unison. “That’s settled then.” She slipped her hand through her brother-in-law’s arm. “A holiday home it is, then.”
The End
About the Author
Kerry Kaya is a British gangland crime author, born and raised on the outskirts of East London.
She is an avid reader and has a passion for books. From an early age, she began writing stories, and in her later years, those stories went on to become full length novels and novellas.
Kerry lives with her partner and daughter.
Also by Kerry Kaya
Barking Boy
Against his parent’s wishes, nineteen-year-old Tommy Carter throws away a promising career as a professional boxer to work for local villain Davey Abbott. Slowly he climbs the ranks and is promoted from collecting debts to working the protection rackets and strip clubs. When Davey’s old adversary Dean Johnson comes on to the scene hell bent on revenge, Tommy must take action and do everything he can to survive. When his boss is murdered in the crossfire, Tommy is stunned to learn that Davey has left his business interests to him. Recruiting his younger brothers to work for him, the Carters become a family that are both respected and feared. But its bank robberies that Tommy really excels at, and staying one step ahead of the police, Tommy plans out the robbery of all robberies when he plans to steal from the Top Dog of the East End, Freddie Smith. After months of planning will it become one robbery too many when as a consequence everyone Tommy loves is at risk from the backlash of Freddie Smith and his henchmen.
Top Dog
Once you’re in you’re in. There is only one way out.
Danny McKay wants out, his boss Freddie Smith on the other hand has different ideas.
