Harry
I was going to kill them—allof them. I didn’t care that there was three of them and one of me, they were going down.
And they knew it too, if their hasty steps back were anything to go by.
Sal grabbed my arm. “Don’t, Harry. It’s okay. I’m sure Dicky didn’t mean it.”
I pried her hand loose and pulled her further behind me. It didn’t matter if they’d meant it. I’d come outside to find three men surrounding her, backing her against the wall, demanding who the fuck knew what.
Fuck that.
I stepped forward. The guy at the front held up his hands. “Now look here. I don’t want any trouble. Sal knows I just want my money, fair and square.”
“Fuck off. You’re on private property.”
“So? Ain’t my fault her old man has waltzed off with cash that don’t belong to him, is it? I want paying.”
His voice was rising, like he thought the louder he spoke, the more likely I was to give a shit about what he had to say.
Fucking joker. Ididn’tgive a shit. We were inches apart now. He leaned forward a fraction, and I was done.
I threw him across the yard. He landed heavily on his side, rolled over, and fixed me with a look that could go either way. I glanced at his friends. They didn’t move. Didn’t look at me.
This bloke was on his own.
He got shakily to his feet. I braced myself to bounce him across the yard again, but suddenly Joe was between us, his hand on my chest, his face obscured by his lean, coiled shoulders.
“What the fuck is this, Dicky?” he spat. “I told you not to rock up here, you daft cunt.”
Dicky—apparently—turned to Joe, though he kept his gaze on me. “I warned you, lad. Your old man owes me, so someone’s gotta pay.”
“And I told you that it didn’t have jack shit to do with the rest of us. Get the fuck off my land.”
“Your old man’s for it if I see him.”
“I don’t care!” Joe shouted, but the smallest of tremors caught the words.
It was tiny, barely there at all, but I heard it, and so did Dicky. He smirked and, for a man who was more bulge than brawn, moved quickly into Joe’s personal space, prodding him with a fat finger. “I’ll burn this place down if I have to—what’s left of it. I want my money.”
I’d heard enough. I opened the door to the feed store and pushed Sal inside. Then I pulled Joe behind me too and lunged at Dicky again. “Get off the fucking land, arsehole.”
He stumbled back into his friends. They gripped his arms and started to drag him away, but he fought them, and they let him go.
I was ready for him. A Land Rover I presumed was theirs was a few feet away. I propelled him towards it and he crashed into the side. “Get in.”
“Piss off. Look at you, all muscles and faggy clothes. You his fucking boyfriend or something? Pair of fairies.”
I laughed. It had been a hell of a long time since my sexuality had been used against me like that, and hearing it now in such clichéd terms was so fucking ridiculous that humour was all I had. “Just get in the car, mate. Before you get hurt.”
Dicky’s pals hit the Land Rover, one of them falling to his knees. I didn’t have to look to know that Joe had put him there. Or that Joe was right behind me. Even through the haze that had descended the moment Dicky had come up on Sal, I felt Joe everywhere.
The man on his knees scrambled to his feet and got in the Land Rover. His mate followed, but Dicky remained.
Joe stepped around me and closed a hand around his brawny throat, pressing his elbow into his chest. “I don’t care about your money. If you come on my land again, or even breathe near my family, I’ll burn you alive. You got it?”
I believed him. And so did Dicky. He spat on the ground and reached for the door handle behind him. “Fucking pikeys, the lot of you. Always have been. Your pa hasn’t heard the last of this.”
Joe released him. Dicky got in the Land Rover and his mate gunned the engine. They roared out of the yard with a hail of gravel, leaving a cloud of diesel fumes in their wake. I tracked them down the lane and passed the bungalow and only let my breath go when I was sure they’d made it to the main road.
