Cruel Shame

by Sofia Daniel

  My heart sank. Billy was Mother’s supplier, but he also rationed her drugs and alcohol, so she never took too much. He also withheld it to keep her under his control. I turned to Kendrick and sighed. “He means it.”

  Kendrick wrapped an arm around my waist and guided me back on the sofa. “The lady has rejected your attention. I suggest you respect her wishes.”

  Sammy leaned forward and bared his teeth. “And I told you to take your filthy hands off my girl.”

  Kendrick scoffed. “Why would I listen to the words of a lowlife?”

  “You listened well enough when I pummeled you in that cell.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, hoping Kendrick wouldn’t work out that it was Sammy who had attacked Maxwell from behind and Sammy who had bruised his face. Of course he would. Orlando was the one who told me my ex had attacked Maxwell. He would also have told Kendrick.

  Kendrick’s nostrils flared. “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.” Sammy rocked forward on his heels.

  Billy raised his palms. “If you two are going to fight, take it outside.”

  Kendrick raised his chin. “Challenge accepted.”

  “Ha. This time, I’ll drown you in the pond.”

  No matter what I said to Kendrick, he wouldn’t back down. Nichelle didn’t do a damn thing to calm Sammy, either, but she loved a brawl and never gave a shit about anything but herself.

  Anxiety rippled through my insides. While Kendrick was fighting for his honor or avenging his twin, Sammy was fighting to impress Billy Hancock. Sammy also wanted to show off that he was more of a man than Kendrick, and was desperate to secure himself a position within Billy’s organization. With all his cannabis plants and growing equipment seized by the police, he couldn't immediately return to growing weed.

  Kendrick would get pummeled by the mad bastard.

  Billy crossed the room and opened the door that led back to the hallway. “Come on, boys.”

  Sammy trotted after Billy like an obedient dog with Nichelle trailing after him like a poodle. The door swung shut behind us, and I whirled on Kendrick.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I hissed.

  “I owe him for what he did to Max’s face.” He stared down at me, his eyes blazing with defiance. “And for what he did to you.”

  Laying both hands on his pecs, I held him in place, my eyes pleading for him to back down. “I’ve seen Sammy fight. He doesn’t stop, long after he’s knocked the other guy unconscious, and if the other guy’s stronger, he’ll pull out a knife.”

  Kendrick’s gaze wandered to the door. “Then I’ll have to knock him out in the first few minutes.”

  I wrapped my hand around his bicep and gave him a hard shake. “Ken—”

  “Lilah.” His sharp voice cut through whatever I was about to say. “As much as I appreciate your concern, I must do this.”

  “What will I tell Maxwell if you get hurt?”

  He huffed. “This is about my brother, then?”

  “And you.” I cupped his cheek. “Please, don’t do this.”

  Kendrick’s eyes softened, and the corners of his lips curled into the barest of smiles. “Save your concern for that braggart. He’s about to learn never to mess with a Deloraine.”

  He walked around me, strode to the door, and held it open, letting in the sound of barking. I trudged across the room, grumbling under my breath about psychopathic cocaine barons, sociopathic exes, and stubborn assholes who crawled under my skin.

  Sammy and Billy waited at the other end of the marble hallway, by the passage that led to the kitchen. Behind them, Nichelle wrung her hands. I swept my gaze up and down my former friend. She looked the same as ever, save for the dark circles under her eyes. I expect that was from all the partying she did with Sammy.

  I hoped she knew what she was doing. Sammy on his own was bad enough. He had only exposed the violent maniac the day I’d caught him in bed with Nichelle, but Billy Hancock was a whole level of demented. Just because I’d navigated the underworld unscathed, it didn’t mean she would be so lucky.

  Kendrick offered me his arm. Ignoring Nichelle’s gaze sweeping up and down my body, I looped my arm through his and followed the two other men to the kitchen.

  It was the least gaudy room in the mini-mansion, largely because neither Billy Hancock nor Mother cooked. The marble tiles continued across the vast space, where floor-to-ceiling kitchen cabinets took up the far left-hand corner.

  Margaret the housekeeper stood at the kitchen island casting us furtive glances over her shoulder. In front of her was a pile of packaged meals from Marks and Spencer. A great grocery store, but proof that she was just an expert at putting things in the oven. I pulled my gaze away from the woman and followed the others to the back door.

  Billy Hancock turned and met my eyes with a smirk. “Don’t worry, Treacle. The dogs are safe behind locked doors.”

  Everyone in the room except for Kendrick knew about my dog phobia, yet only Nichelle had the poor taste to snort. Even Sammy cast her a filthy glare. What was the stupid cow doing here, anyway?

  Kendrick turned to me with a sympathetic smile. “Would you like to stay inside in the warmth?”

  I shook my head. “The least I can do is offer you moral support from the sidelines.”

  We stepped outside together into the cold Richley morning to a burst of excited dog barks.

  Pale sunlight streamed out through the clouds, making the garden less gloomy than usual. The dew that had settled across the lawn and on the sandstone patio shimmered. I kept my gaze on the first fifty feet of the garden and away from the kennels at the back.

  Even without looking at them, past experience had committed them to memory. Calling them kennels were an understatement. An insulated, wooden structure with a galvanized roof stood on the property’s left boundary, and a U-shaped run of seven-foot-high steel fences took up the garden’s borders.

  Out of the corner of my eye, a gigantic, black creature leaped at the fence. A burst of terror lanced through my heart, but I held firm at Kendrick’s side and resisted my instinct to skitter back into the kitchen.

  Sammy pulled off his leather jacket and shoved it into Nichelle’s arms.

  I turned to Kendrick. “Can I take your jacket?”

  He rolled his shoulders and folded up his sleeves. “There hardly seems any point.”

  Billy Hancock threw his head back and laughed. “What is this, fisticuffs?”

  Every fiber of my body wanted to charge at the man and hurl him into the kennels for a Game of Thrones-style execution. It wouldn’t work because Billy Hancock was too heavy a brute, those hellhounds loved their master, and they would probably attack me instead.

  Kendrick strode across the lawn with his back as straight as a broomstick, looking like a modern day gentleman in his herringbone jacket and matching pants. He had even ironed his shirt before stepping off the train this morning, for fuck’s sake.

  I wrapped an arm around my middle and sighed. Wasn’t he supposed to be the sensible twin? The cool-headed one who thought through his actions before getting himself into trouble? Either there was more to him than those nipple piercings, or this morning’s hand job had brought out his inner badass.

  Sammy spread his arms and beamed. “I barely recognized you with your clothes.”

  Kendrick’s shoulders rose to his ears, and red blotches appeared on his cheeks.

  Nichelle sidled up to me, rubbing her bare arms and shivering. “What are you doing with a pretty boy like that? He isn’t your type.”

  “Are you wearing my knickers, too?” I snapped.

  She stopped in the middle of the lawn. “Sammy and me were never serious, you know. It’s just a fling.”

  “Sammy and I, you twat.” I shook my head. “And you’re about to get shafted. The moment he’s finished with you, he’ll hand you over to that perverted old bastard.”

  Nichelle narrowed her eyes. “You can be such a spiteful cow.”

 
I raised a shoulder. Maybe I was wrong, but Billy Hancock didn’t haunt the Richley nightclubs just to sell cocaine. Before I got him sent to prison, he had several girls around town. And the way he was salivating over Nichelle in that dress had to mean something.

  “Come on, gorgeous.” Sammy feinted forward and stamped his foot in the kind of primary school move bullies employed to make others flinch.

  Kendrick struck with a right hook that knocked Sammy flat onto the lawn. Sammy fell back, exposing the grass stains on his gray jogging bottoms. He rolled to the side and stumbled to his feet.

  Following after him, Kendrick raised his fists but didn’t strike.

  Sammy swung with his right. Kendrick blocked with his left and slammed an uppercut straight into the middle of Sammy’s face. Blood spurted out from Sammy’s nose, making me wince.

  “I’ll bet you’re enjoying this,” Nichelle said.

  “You were there when I stabbed him,” I muttered as Kendrick rained punch after punch at a retreating Sammy’s face and temple. “That makes us even.”

  “He still owes you for getting him locked up.”

  “I still owe you for shagging my bloke.”

  Kendrick trapped Sammy against the kennels’ fence, pummeling at his torso with heavy uppercuts while Sammy shielded his face with his forearms.

  “Break it up,” Billy Hancock roared.

  Kendrick jogged back a few steps, and danced on his feet like a professional boxer. My brows rose. He really knew what he was doing.

  Sammy turned to the patio with his arm outstretched. “Nish!”

  Nichelle rifled through the pockets of his leather jacket. He wanted to use a knife, and the stupid cow was going to let him. I swung my fist at her temple, knocking her to the ground. When she fell onto her side, I pulled back my foot and gave her a swift kick in the gut.

  “Why?” she wailed.

  “This fight is between Sammy and Kendrick.”

  A pack of dogs jumped up onto Sammy’s patch of fence. He pushed himself off, swayed on his feet as Kendrick ducked and jabbed at his face with calculated precision. Blood streamed from Sammy’s temple into his left eye, but it was nothing compared to what poured from his nose.

  I bit down on my lip. Not that I was a fan of boxing, but I’d sat through a few fights. A fighter of Kendrick’s caliber could have ended this in seconds, but Kendrick rained blow after blow at Sammy, never hitting hard enough to knock him out.

  It looked to me like he was extracting maximum damage in retaliation for Maxwell's face.

  “Finish it, boy!” Billy Hancock shouted over the cacophony of dog barks. He stood by the kennel door with a set of keys, looking like he wanted to set the dogs on Kendrick.

  I inhaled a sharp breath through my teeth. The bloody bastard.

  “As you wish.” Kendrick slammed his fist into Sammy’s temple, knocking him down to the ground.

  Nishelle pulled herself to her feet and staggered across the lawn toward Sammy. I yanked the leather jacket out of her hands. The wretched cow was probably on her way to furnish him with a knife.

  I curled my lip. Some fling, indeed.

  Billy Hancock glared down at Sammy and strode back toward the kitchen door. As he stalked past, he muttered, “Dinner’s ready.”

  Kendrick strolled toward me with a satisfied smirk.

  I returned the expression with a wide grin. “Well done.”

  He raised his chin. “I believe you owe me an apology.”

  “I owe you more than that.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and placed a kiss on his lips. Instead of stiffening or flinching or saying something dickheadish, he wrapped an arm around the small of my back and pulled me into his warm body.

  “Lilah?” a voice shouted over the barking of the dogs.

  I turned to the back of the house, where Mother stood at the kitchen door in a thin, white dressing gown.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mother stared at me through glazed eyes set within a face as pale as her dressing gown. I hadn’t expected to see her until two or three in the afternoon, but it looked like she hadn’t been as far gone as Billy Hancock had implied. She was still drunk and had probably taken something else to counter the alcohol.

  My heart lurched, and I leaned into Kendrick’s side for support. It had been years since I’d last seen her in this condition, but all the feelings of having an alcoholic mother flooded back. The stomach-churning anger mingled with worry, and the powerlessness that there wasn’t a single thing I could do to help her.

  When I was younger, I would make deals with myself, thinking that she might stop drinking if I smiled more around the house or if I got good grades or if I was nicer to Billy Hancock. It didn't work. Then I tried staying out at night and disappearing for days at friends’ houses so maybe she might stay sober out of worry. Nothing I did affected the amount she drank.

  I would never understand Mother. If she wasn’t drowning herself with gin, then she was flying high with coke. On the few days she was straight, there were non-stop arguments with Billy Hancock.

  “Abby.” His sharp voice cut through the loud barking. Mother turned around and smiled at the man who I came to see as her jailer.

  Billy Hancock appeared from the kitchen, placed an arm around her shoulder and guided her back inside.

  I turned to Kendrick, wondering if he had picked up on my strange family dynamic. He stared ahead at the kitchen doorway with his brows furrowed as though trying to puzzle us out. I wished him a silent good luck. My family had enough skeletons in its closet to start a zombie apocalypse.

  “Lilah,” Nichelle screeched at us from the dog kennels. “Look at what he’s done to Sammy’s face.”

  “Let’s go inside,” I muttered.

  We stepped back into the warmth of the kitchen, where Margaret carried a ceramic bowl of roast potatoes out of the microwave and out through the door that led to the dining room. I pressed my lips together, suppressing my disapproval. The dining room was supposed to be where Billy Hancock entertained important guests and made important deals over cigars and cognac. Why was he bringing us in there?

  The dining room was straight out of a Harrods display. Seriously. It was a vast space, illuminated by a gold-and-crystal chandelier that cast kaleidoscopic light over gunmetal-gray walls with matching marble floor tiles, gold skirting boards, and the most elaborate gold ceiling rose that held a crystal chandelier.

  Billy Hancock sat at the head of the black, marble dining table decorated with gold Versace flourishes around its edges. On his left, Mother perched on a gold-upholstered chair with a crest rail that belonged to a throne. Both still looked at ease at entertaining guests in their dressing gowns.

  Among golden dishes filled with cooked vegetables sat one containing an un-browned chicken fresh from the microwave. I walked around to sit at Mother’s right, furthest away from Billy Hancock, but she raised her head and pointed at the nameplate on the setting next to hers. “This seat is for Maxwell.”

  I would have asked how they knew his name, Sammy must have told them about Maxwell from the time they spent together in that cell.

  “What’s going on?” I asked.

  “You wanted to speak to your mother, here’s your chance,” Billy Hancock stood. “Now sit down.”

  Margaret stepped into the room, holding a bowl of stuffing. As I walked around Kendrick and made my way to the other side of the table, she scooted around me and took the seat closest to Billy Hancock.

  My brows drew together. None of our previous housekeepers ever dined with us. They usually returned to their husbands after performing their duties, but Margaret turned to Billy Hancock and offered him a warm smile. I glanced at Mother, who watched the pair with blank eyes. Then I took a closer look at the woman I originally thought was the new housekeeper.

  She wore heavy makeup that obscured her features, with tattooed eyebrows and deep-red lipstick. I’d guess she was a few years older than Mother but hadn’t damaged her skin with drugs and alcohol.<
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  Her burgundy sweater clung to generous curves that rivaled Nichelle’s, and now that she was no longer wearing the apron, it was clear to anyone that she had dressed to capture the attention of her boss.

  “It looks like we’ll have to talk after dinner, then,” I snapped.

  “You can talk in front of Margaret,” Billy said.

  My gaze flicked to Kendrick, whose eyes were as round as buttons. From where I was standing, this Margaret woman had wormed her way into the household. What the hell was he thinking?

  I lowered myself into the seat next to the woman and locked eyes with Mother whose features blanked into a mask of neutrality. It was a terrible thing to wish on another woman, but maybe this competition and the potential loss of the man who kept a roof over her head might make her start thinking of ways to escape.

  Billy Hancock stood and carved the microwaved chicken, exposing flesh that was still pink. I winced at the potential food poisoning, wondering how someone with such expensive tastes in decor could allow his housekeeper to turn Marks and Spencer food into shit.

  After serving ourselves with vegetables, Kendrick and I made a show of pushing our food around the plate, while the other three ate in silence. Mother picked at her food, her appetite suppressed by the coke and booze.

  “Go on, then,” Billy Hancock said through a mouthful of chicken. “What did you have to say?”

  I glanced at Margaret, who gave me an encouraging smile, then told them everything I knew, starting from the television interview to Mr. Burgh being held in Glasgow police station. I also told them how Lady Liddell was using the counterfeit paternity test to prove a history of Mr. Burgh abusing teenage girls.

  Mother’s lips tightened throughout my story—I couldn’t tell if her anger was directed to Lady Liddell or Mr. Burgh or Margaret, who kept making sympathetic clucking sounds. Billy Hancock lowered his head and snickered, his shoulders twitching up and down.

  “I fail to see the amusement in the situation,” Kendrick snapped.

  “That bloody bastard got his just deserts.” Billy wiped away a tear of mirth with the back of his hand. “When Abby got into trouble, he didn’t believe a word of what she said. Isn’t that right, Abs?”