Jessie Keane - Ruthless

She had no idea.

Rufus got behind the wheel. No one stopped him. No one lifted a finger. He drove off, clipping the wing of the car parked in front of him. He didn’t stop. He kept going.

‘You see that?’ asked the man in the black van.

‘What?’ said his companion, a squat little guy with a squint and a pair of headphones more or less permanently attached to his bald head. He was thinking about lunch. His stomach was growling. He was bored to hell with this gig.

‘That guy carrying Annie Carter out the front door,’ said the one who’d been looking out of the black-tinted windows at the street. He was bored too, and the scene he’d just witnessed had enlivened his day.

‘You’re joking, right?’ The man with the headphones knew his colleague for an inveterate practical joker. He’d been on the receiving end of a few of his pranks. He hated practical jokes.

‘I’m not joking. Brought her down the steps over his shoulder. Big man, red hair. Light cord jacket, jeans. You know what’s even weirder? No one tried to stop him.’

The little man took off his headphones. ‘Serious?’

His colleague nodded.

‘Better phone it in then.’

They were in the back of the car, Sandor at the wheel. Heading to Holland Park.

‘Alberto,’ said Layla.

‘Hm?’

‘You keep saying that you can’t start anything now, and then what do you do? You start something.’

He looked at her. ‘Are you sorry?’

‘No. Of course not,’ she said, the memory of the past few hours bringing heat to her face.

‘I shouldn’t have done it,’ he said, shaking his head almost sadly. ‘But… I wanted to.’

‘Well, it’s too late for all that now. So will you please tell me what’s happening?’

‘Things might be catching up with me.’

‘What things?’

Alberto stared at her. ‘Layla. You know what I am.’

‘You mean… the police?’

‘I mean the FBI.’

Layla went pale. ‘Oh.’ She sank back against the upholstery, anxiety clamping her chest. She swallowed hard. ‘How long…?’

He shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Soon.’

Layla sucked in a panicky breath. They’d only just found each other. And here he was, telling her that he could be snatched from her?

‘Then we have to get away. Go somewhere. Anywhere.’

‘I’m not leaving yet, not with you and your mom in a fix.’

Layla stared at the face she loved so much. Strong, tanned, sometimes fierce, sometimes gentle. She couldn’t lose him. Not now.

‘Look, Layla, when I go, I go alone,’ he said.

Layla opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. She felt a wave of hurt hit her, snatching her breath away. He didn’t want her with him. She would go to the ends of the earth for him, but he didn’t want that. She shrank from him. He’d used her. And now he was telling her this.

‘But…’ she started, then stuttered to a halt. She was shocked, bewildered. ‘Didn’t that… didn’t that mean anything to you, this afternoon?’

Alberto turned his head and looked at her. Then he looked away again. ‘We had sex, Layla. It was good, but it was sex. That’s all.’

Layla gasped as if he’d punched her.

Alberto suppressed a sigh. This was so hard. It was crucifying him, but he knew he had to do it – make her let go, make her despise him, if he could. It would be cruel to do otherwise.

‘Do you know how many women throw themselves at me in the space of a year?’ he asked her.

‘I don’t…’ she said, faltering.

‘Dozens.’ He glanced at her face. It was a picture of distress. Quickly he looked away. He couldn’t afford to weaken. Not now. ‘This afternoon was nice. Let’s not read too much into it though, OK?’

Layla could only stare back at him blankly. Nice? She couldn’t believe he was saying these horrible things, not to her. He was making his feelings very plain, though. He was going to take off somewhere, and she wasn’t invited along for the ride.

The instant Max got to Holland Park, he knew something was wrong. Paul was asleep in his car. And Bri opened the front door looking as if he’d been dragged through a hedge. He was sweaty and pale.

‘What’s up with you?’ said Max, marching Molly inside while Tony followed on with Junior. ‘And I just passed Paul, he’s asleep out there. What the fuck’s going on?’

‘Something happened, Boss.’ Bri’s speech was laboured, disjointed.

‘Where’s Annie?’ demanded Max.

‘Let me go, will you?’ whined Molly.

Max gave her a shake. ‘Shut up, you.’ He turned back to Bri. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Sorry, Boss. Nothing I could do. Bastard came to-’

‘Who?’ A hot bolt of panic shot through Max’s gut.

‘Big guy, long red hair. Hit me with a taser. Didn’t see it coming. Went down like a sack of shit. Couldn’t move.’

‘Where’s Annie?’ Max repeated, his mouth going dry.

‘He took her. I couldn’t stop him.’

‘What’s going on?’ asked Alberto, catching the last few words as he came up the steps, Layla trailing behind him.

‘That’s what I want to find out,’ said Max, thinking fast. Bri had seen Rufus Malone, he was certain of that. And Malone had snatched Annie.

Layla was surging forward, her face twisted with anxiety. ‘What’s happened? Where’s Mum?’

For Layla’s sake, Max knew he had to clamp down the panic rising in him. He couldn’t allow his fear at the thought of what that bastard might do to Annie spiral out of control. Looking his daughter in the eye, he told her, ‘We’re going to find her.’

The colour drained from her face and she sagged a little, as if she might faint. ‘It was him, wasn’t it? He’s been here. Oh my God, no!’

‘Don’t wor-’

‘Don’t worry? Precious – the girl he beat up at the club – she died today, Dad. She died. And now he’s got Mum.’

‘We’ll get her back,’ said Max.

‘We will,’ said Alberto, taking Layla’s arm. She flinched away from him. Max looked at them both. He had never seen Layla react like that with Alberto before.

‘Don’t touch me,’ she snapped.

Max gave a nod to Tony to follow with Junior, and he hustled Molly into the drawing room. Alberto and Layla followed.

‘Go and check Paul’s OK,’ Max flung back at Bri.

Bri hurried to obey.

‘Precious told me…’ Before she died. Layla took a breath and started again.

This day had been horrendous, exhausting. She couldn’t remember ever having a worse one. It was agony and joy and terrible disappointment, all churning together. Her head hurt. And her heart ached too – both for the loss of Precious and at the painful discovery of how little she really meant to the man she loved.

Do you know how many women throw themselves at me in the space of a year? he’d asked her. Like she was just one in a long line of easy lays. Nothing special. To be used, and discarded.

Now she couldn’t get her mind off the image of her mother, her mum, being held by that bastard Malone. She couldn’t stop thinking about the things a man like that, a man who would happily beat a woman to the point of death, could do to her mother.

‘Take your time,’ said Alberto. ‘Just breathe steadily.’

She thought of Precious and her heart-brain exercise, and wanted to weep all over again.

‘Precious told me that he beat her up to send a message to us, to the Carters,’ she said. ‘And now he’s got Mum…’

Max was standing by the mantelpiece, Alberto alongside him. Shooting Junior a venomous look that should have killed him on the spot, Max growled, ‘If he hurts her, you will pay the price.’