“Okay, okay. Calm down.”
“He’s fucking with me. If he harms a single hair…”
I heard a door close and the background noise went silent. “Stop. He just wants some money from Lawrie, and to fuck with you. He’s pissed you’re trying to step away.”
“Ash or Colm?”
“Both.”
“Where’ve they taken her? I need to get her back.” I wanted to kick myself hard after this. I should’ve guessed what they were going to do, worked out that spite was always thicker than blood. I should’ve turned Ash away tonight and not let him in.
Winnie made a noise that told me he was thinking. “You keep my name out of this.”
“Sure.” I had no issue with Winnie.
“The compound in Sant Antoni. Either there or the gym – there’s a garage about two hundred metres away that Ash got the keys for to store shit.” Winnie clicked his tongue, a habit he had when he was thinking. “Want my advice?”
“I’ll take anything right now.” I was back inside my apartment, grabbing my car keys and the gun I shouldn’t have, but did anyway, scrambling inside the safe to the compartment in there that you’d never find unless you truly knew what you were looking for.
“Get Lawrie down there. It’s him they’re after. They know he holds Marcus’ purse strings.”
“And it’s Lawrie who’s been bringing weapons in?”
“You know about that?” Winnie’s voice went low. “We know the island is used as a distribution centre, but only by Lebedev. And we like it that way.”
It was a side I’d stayed out of, preferring the legal businesses, the hotels and the clubs and bars.
I ended the call with Winnie, the dense cloud of panic evaporating into something that scared me.
If Ash had let one thing happen to hurt Jameson, I was going to kill him. I didn’t care if I got sent down for it, and if no one would clean up my mess like they’d cleaned up Ash’s. He wasn’t going to get away with this twice.
Once in my car, I hit the gas, taking the back roads towards the lock up in Sant Antoni. Images in my had played over, Jameson’s face combined with the too clear memories of Leila’s when I’d seen her lying dead on the road. Bile billowed into my throat, and as soon as I got out of the car, I vomited onto the pavement.
The lock-up looked dark, but there was a car outside I recognised, an estate with tinted windows and a large boot. Big enough to put a small woman inside.
My phone rang before I got to the door, a number I didn’t recognise flashing on the screen. I answered without speaking, waiting for the caller to identify themselves.
“Livi told me to call you.” There were nerves in the words. Fear.
“You need to fucking get down here now, else I’m going to have to call the police.” I didn’t even question what I was saying. “I’ll send you the co-ordinates.”
Marvin Lawrence audibly winced. “Don’t call the police. I’ll be down there.”
“Make it quick.” The call ended. I sent him the details of where to go and then sent them to Livi. The feelings of failure were miniscule compared to how much I needed to get Jameson out of there and safe, preferably in my arms, although I was bracing myself for her hating me. Only she couldn’t hate me anymore than what I hated myself. Any pride I wanted to salvage had gone; I didn’t need to be the hero, I’d take all the help I could get, including asking her mother.
If Colm pulled Ash’s strings like a marionette puppet, Livi was in control of Lawrie’s right now. She wouldn’t let anything happen to her daughters.
I stared at the building. It was too quiet, too dark. This had been the more likely place out of the two that Winnie had suggested; it was more discreet, easier to get away from quickly and bigger. It was actually cleaner too. Fear and ease battled in the pit of my stomach. Maybe they were being careful with her, maybe their purpose was just to try and bag a ransom from Lawrie, to show Marcus exactly who had the power here. Then I thought of Ash and how much the fucker had to prove and I braced myself, preparing for a fight.
I took the gun out of the glove box where I’d secured it and hid it under my T-shirt on my belt. I didn’t like carrying a weapon, but there was no way I was walking in there unarmed. It was two hours since Jameson had been taken, two hours where she’d probably had no idea what the fuck was happening, only that I was a liar and a bastard. That didn’t matter: I could deal with how much she’d hate me after she was safe and at home in Safir, away from this place where she didn’t belong.
The door to the compound was locked – Ash had that much sense at least – but it only took two hard shoves and a kick, and it burst open into the small office that smelled of weed and damp.
I heard a shout from the back of the office, which was where the main storeroom was. It was one of Ash’s clowns, someone who did a bit of scooting round for him, a big bloke with a nasty scar down one side of his face from when he got bottled as kid.
“Open the fuck up and let me in.” I banged against the door but didn’t push it through.
The door opened without me having to kick it and I stepped through, quickly noticing Jameson who was lying on a mattress that looked fairly clean, but my attention was on the three men. Ash, Dessy Wright – the dick with the scar, and Sharp, who earned his nickname because he definitely was not sharp.
