Kerry Barnes - The Hunted - A gripping crime thriller that will have you hooked

In an instant, he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her face an inch from his. ‘Nah, Zara. You were that.’ And then he planted his lips on hers. Even though she struggled, he held her there, until he felt her relax and then he let her go.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘You bastard!’

Trying to steady his breathing, he shook his head and walked away. He had to make his head rule his heart – once bitten, twice shy. As much as he felt the surge of excitement and rush of lust, she was still the woman who’d left him . Unable to look back, afraid of his own feelings, he marched on ahead. He shouldn’t have kissed her either, but he wanted to demonstrate his power. Seven years ago, he would never have grabbed her like that – ever.

Zara watched him, her mind all over the place. She was seething, but as soon as he was out of sight, she calmed down and then smiled. There was an upside to this latest encounter: he still wanted her. But would he still, if he knew how much had changed?

* * *

By the time Mike returned home and called a meeting, the lads had done their homework on the Harman family and located the address where each family member lived.

‘How’d it go with Izzy?’ enquired Eric.

Mike raised his brow. ‘As expected, he wants the Harmans dealt with as much as we do.’ Not wanting to concern the lads, he deliberately left out the threat Izzy had made.

‘Was he on his own?’ asked Eric, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

Mike stiffened and turned to face his brother. ‘Do you mean was Zara there?’

Eric shrugged. ‘No, not really. I meant anyone.’

‘Yes, Eric, I saw Zara.’

Dying to know what went on, Eric had to bite his lip; he couldn’t appear too eager.

Unexpectedly, Mike snapped at him. ‘You fucking knew she was back, didn’t ya?’

Eric felt his face flush red. He looked at the others who had now almost frozen to the spot in disbelief.

‘Well yeah, I did hear that a while ago, but what does it matter? You’re with Jackie and have Ricky. She’s …’

The uncomfortable atmosphere spurred Lou to quickly change the subject. ‘Listen up. Harry, Vinnie, and Scottie Harman’s pads have all been checked over. It seems they’ve gone into hiding. The only place not accounted for is their ol’ man’s.’

Mike sensed that the Zara discussion should be kept separate from the business at hand. He shot Eric a disparaging glare before calling for action.

‘Right, then. Eric and Willie, you come with me. Get a tool and put on a first-class bastard attitude because we’re paying the Harman family’s home a visit.’

Eric looked away to ensure that his brother couldn’t see the darkened scowl on his face. He wasn’t capable of keeping a steely fixed expression like Mike could. In fact, if he was honest, he knew they weren’t cut from the same cloth. And being riled up because Mike met up with Zara was taking his focus away from the job in hand.

Staffie jumped up. ‘I wanna come, ’cos I have a fucking monkey wrench with the name Harman carved on it.’

Mike shook his head. ‘No! Sorry, mate, but your temper will be a liability.’ He held up his hands. ‘Trust me, Staffie. You’ll get a chance to leave ya mark, so be patient. You stop ’ere with Lou.’

With red-rimmed eyes and a sulky pout, Staffie slumped back into his armchair and gulped back the last of his drink. ‘Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a lump, Mike Regan, I’d tell you to go and fuck yaself.’

Mike grinned and gently tapped Staffie’s face. ‘Yeah, and if I didn’t love ya so much, I’d clump ya for that comment.’

‘I want my time with them, though, Mikey. Don’t you kill ’em before I leave my mark.’

‘Staffie, I’m a man of my word. You go and find that monkey wrench.’ He winked and nodded for Willie and Eric to follow him.

Within the hour, Mike was in Lee Green, driving slowly along the road to Frank Harman’s place. He looked at the house numbers and then clocked all the cars in the street, knowing that Harry and his two brothers all drove black Mercedes with private number plates. Yet this street had no flash cars parked with two wheels over the kerb.

‘Looks like the Harmans are not at home, boys.’

‘What does their ol’ man drive?’ asked Mike.

Eric looked at Willie and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Dunno. I only got the details of Harry, Vinnie, and Scottie. I didn’t think about the ol’ man.’

Mike sighed. He loved his brother, but there were times when he was really irritated by him. Why his brother could be so lax when he should have his mind on the task ahead was beyond him. He thought that perhaps Eric was distracted by the stupid notion that he could surreptitiously go after Zara.

Eric had once had his eye on her years ago, but it was made clear to him that Zara wasn’t interested. In fact, her exact words were, ‘I find him a bit creepy.’

‘So, Eric, now we won’t know what we’re potentially walking into.’ He didn’t raise his voice; he’d made his point.

The pained look on Eric’s face said it all: once again, he felt inferior.

Easing his car into a space just three doors down, Mike paused and looked up to see if the street had any cameras. Then he craned his neck to address both Eric and Willie who were seated in the back.

‘When we go in, I want quiet. No shouting. These neighbours are too close. I want you to act like the fucking SAS, got it? I want whoever is inside that house shitting hot bricks with a shooter in their face, and then I want them away from here, back to the lock-up.’

Willie lit up a cigarette.

‘Put that fucking thing out. I’ve just had me motor valeted! Jesus!’ yelled Mike.

After looking up and down the road, he stepped out of the car, followed by the others, and confidently marched up to the house. He nodded for Willie to accompany him and whispered to Eric to stay out of sight of the window, but to stand by the front door, in case anyone tried to escape.

Mike and Willie hurried up the side of the house and into the rear garden where they noticed the back door was ajar. In a flash, Mike pulled his gun from his belt and pushed the door open. As he walked into the kitchen, he detected the sweet smell of cakes being baked. Then he strained to listen, putting his finger over his lips, indicating to Willie not to make a sound. Slowly, Mike crept along the hallway and opened the front door, flicking his head for Eric to enter.

Once they were all in the hallway, Eric gripped his gun and poked his head into the living room, only to find the television on and no one there – as if the house had suddenly been vacated. He strained his ears again, listening; he could have heard a pin drop. That was until, suddenly, they heard the toilet flush. He held his gun, pointing it to the staircase, awaiting the appearance of a Harman. There was silence for a few minutes until the toilet flushed again. Motionless, they waited. Again, the toilet flushed. Mike nodded and raised his brow for Eric to go and investigate. Gingerly, Eric climbed the stairs and listened at the bathroom door, the only one that was shut; once again, the toilet flushed and made him jump. He rapped hard on the door and waited.

‘I told you, Harry, I’m not leaving this house,’ came a woman’s voice from the other side of the door. ‘Now, please, leave me alone, and if you want to use the toilet, then do so downstairs and do not invade my privacy.’

Mike took the stairs two at a time and knocked himself. Again, the person called out. ‘Harry, I’m busy. Leave me in peace. I’m not going to repeat myself, so go, and don’t bother to come back.’

Mike looked at Eric and whispered, ‘Let’s go.’