by Darren Dash
“I’ve been waiting,” I said softly. “I had a lot of time to think and I made up my mind to hurt him the way he’d hurt me. I decided to get away with it too. Not because I value my life, but because Zahra wouldn’t have wanted me to spend decades in gaol.
“Dancing James bailed from the Army a couple of years after I did,” I continued, “and I’ve kept tabs on him ever since. He had a rough time of it in the beginning, so I let him be. I wasn’t interested in killing him when he was down and out. I hoped he’d build a life for himself and fall in love. I was never going to let him have children – I don’t want to rob a child of a father – but I wanted him to experience everything else, so that I could take it all away from him. I plan to give him a few moments when I’m killing him, to reflect on all that he’s lost and feel the pain that I felt when he took all that away from me.”
I smiled grimly and said with hawkish relish, “He’s almost there. He drifted from one job and relationship to another for a long time, longer than I would have liked – I was often tempted to take him out, especially when I’d been drinking – but he’s settled down, found a woman who loves him, and gainful employment. I’ll give it another year, to let him get really comfortable. Then I’ll make my move.”
“Son of a bitch,” Brue gasped. “I got you all wrong, didn’t I?”
“On so many levels,” I said, and tapped my left hand with my bloodied right. “I’m not ambidextrous, and as you saw when I was using your phone, I am right-handed. But if you’d got to know me better before you set out to screw me, you would have learnt that I fought southpaw. When it comes to boxing, using a tool, shooting a gun… I’m just as good with my left hand as my right.”
He chuckled and applauded softly, sarcastically. Then his face hardened. “I was wrong about something else too. You are part of my world, a killer just like me and Toni.”
“Yeah,” I said bleakly. “The difference is, I don’t want to be. But I’ll kill if I have to. If I must. I’ll kill for love.”
“Don’t do this, Eyrie,” Brue said as I took careful aim. “We can recalculate, pin the blame on Rabbit, make him the fall guy. You, me and Toni can all walk free.”
“I don’t think so.”
He smiled desperately. “You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that. But if you and Rabbit are found here, next to the other corpses, nobody’s going to ask any questions at all.”
The last few patches of colour drained from his face and he began breathing heavily.
“There’s nothing to connect me and Toni to this,” I carried on. “Apart from your insiders on Jeb Howard’s team – who won’t say a word, because they can’t talk without condemning themselves – nobody knows you brought Toni to London. In the eyes of the world, we were never here and had nothing to do with this. And with you, Jeb Howard and Rabbit dead, and your insiders tied to silence by their complicity, there’s no reason why anyone should ever think otherwise.”
“Wait a minute,” he croaked. “Let’s not rush this. We can talk.”
“No,” I said. “We’re done talking. All that’s left now is…” I smiled grimly and framed the word carefully. “Closure.”
“You don’t know what you’re getting into,” he warned. “You can’t kill a man like me and just waltz away into the night.”
“But I’m not killing you,” I said. “Jeb Howard is. At least that’s how it’ll look once I wipe my prints from this gun and stick it in his hand.”
“I’ll pay you,” he moaned. “Name your price. I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“He doesn’t have a price, fucknuts,” Toni snarled, stepping up beside me. “And even if he did, you couldn’t buy off me.” She had recovered her gun and was shaking furiously. She took aim.
“No,” I said softly. “This one’s mine.”
“You sure?” she asked.
“Yeah. I warned him not to double-cross me. Told him what I’d do if he did.”
“Mother of fuck.” Brue spat into the dirt by his feet. He could see his death in my eyes. He smiled shakily, trying to depart this world as manfully as he could. “Can I at least have a couple of minutes to make my peace with God?” he quipped.
I shot him between the eyes. He fell and was still. The sound took longer to die than he did.
“No,” I said.
FIFTEEN — THE PAYOFF
There were practicalities to tend to before we did anything else.
First, Toni determined that the bullet that had struck my arm was lodged inside. She said that was a good thing, as otherwise we’d have had to go scouting around for it, and there was little chance we would have found it in the dark. If we’d left it behind, the forensics team would have discovered it and ID’d my blood when they tested it, and I’d have been implicated. This way, I was carrying it away within me, and Toni said she knew a doctor up north who could extract and dispose of it discreetly.
Next, Toni bandaged my arm to stop the bleeding, then swiftly but expertly cleaned the area where I’d been standing, to ensure I left no incriminating bloodstains.
After that we palmed off our guns on Lewis Brue and Rabbit, then wiped Rabbit’s car of prints.
I would have left at that stage, but Toni, practical to the end, went looking for the money that Jeb Howard had brought to pay the fake traitor, Rabbit. She found it in the back of the limo. Two bags so full of cash that it would take a couple of days to count.
I can’t deny that, despite everything that had happened, both of us stood there for a minute, staring down at the money, grinning like kids.
Toni winced as she picked up the bags.
“Are your hands OK?” I asked.
“They will be,” she sighed. “Come on. We need to make tracks.”
Those were the last words we exchanged for a few hours, until we were out of London and heading north. I drove slowly, the pain in my arm keeping me alert despite my deep weariness, thinking about the two men I’d killed, looking ahead to the time when I’d have to kill again.
The killing hadn’t given me a buzz, just as thoughts of claiming my revenge on Dancing James had never set me tingling. I didn’t think I’d have bad dreams about this. Didn’t think the faces of the dead men would haunt my thoughts for years to come. The way I saw it, when shit needs taking care of, you take care of it, and try not to let the stink get to you too much.
We stopped at a tourist spot on the edge of a valley. Got out of the car and sat on a bench. It was quiet, the sun dipping out of sight, a few pink clouds trailing across the horizon. Toni was shivering — we still hadn’t sorted her out with socks and shoes, just those cheap slippers I’d bought in the shop. I took off my jacket and draped it round her shoulders. Let my hands rest there. She covered them with her own.
“What now?” she asked quietly.
I looked at the clouds.
“I’m not sure,” I admitted.
“The money will make it easier,” she assured me.
I edged forward to face her directly. “What about you and me?”
It was her turn to look uncertain. “I don’t know.”
“Do you want to split the cash and go our separate ways?” I pressed.
“Do you?” she countered.
“No,” I whispered.
“Me neither,” she whispered back. “But…”
I felt my stomach tighten. “But…?” I echoed.
“We hardly know anything about each other,” she said, staring at me with dark, scared eyes. “We shared some stuff back at the docks, sure, but do you really think we could make this work long-term?”
I smiled. “I’m willing to find out if you are.”
She gulped, looking very young and innocent all of a sudden. “I’m willing too, but I know you’re going to go after that guy one day, Dancing James, and that will be risky, no matter how well you plan it.”
“Maybe you can help me with that,” I said, half joking.
“Sure I can,” she said, all serious. �
�The point I’m making is, if you don’t hook up with me, that’s the only thing like this you’ll ever have to face. Once you’re done with James, you can lead a normal life.”
“You think I can’t do that with you?” I asked softly.
“I know you can’t,” she said sadly. “Normality isn’t my world, hasn’t been for a long time now.”
“Maybe I can help you find it again,” I said.
“No,” she snapped, “and you’re a fool if you think that’s going to happen, that you can change me. I’m trouble, Eyrie Brown.”
“Don’t I know it,” I chuckled.
“I’ll get bored,” she said. “I’ll want action.”
“I won’t try to restrain you.”
“I can be Hell itself when I’m in a bad mood.”
“I noticed.”
“We can never return to London.”
“I had no plans to return anyway.”
“I can’t cook.”
“We can afford to eat out.”
“I’m messy, a real pig.”
“I’ll clean up after you.”
“What if we don’t gel in the sack? We haven’t even kissed. We might not be compatible.”
I smiled. “Only one way to find out.”
I stood and picked her up, cradling her in my arms the way I had when I’d rescued her from Smurf Mironova’s.
“What about what those bastards at Smurf’s did to me?” she asked, tears in her eyes. “They shamed me, for the world to see.”
“That was their shame, not yours. It doesn’t bother me.”
“And the killing?” she moaned, tears rolling down her cheeks, some of hope, more of fear that those hopes would be dashed. “It doesn’t bother you that I’ve killed so often, that I think so little of life and other people’s right to it?”
“Well, you know what a wise man once said,” I murmured, tilting her so the glow of the setting sun was in her hair, letting her see my grin before bending to kiss her for the first time, knowing the exact words I needed to tie up all the loose ends and start us on the next leg of what would hopefully be a long and joyous journey together. “Nobody’s perfect…”
T H E E N D
this book was heated up from cold between 10th june 1996 and 3rd december 2019
Molls like it Hot
by Darren Dash
Copyright © 2019 by Home Of The Damned Ltd
Cover design by Liam Fitzgerald. www.frequency.ie
Edited by Zoe Markham http://markhamcorrect.com
First electronic edition published by Home Of The Damned Ltd December 2019
First physical edition published by Home Of The Damned Ltd December 2019
The right of Darren Dash to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means without the prior written permission of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
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