Authors: Michelle Betham
So there wasn’t time to take another deep breath, or to maybe stop and think about whether or not this was the right thing to be doing, there wasn’t time for any of that.
All Reece could focus on was getting to Michael, that’s all he had in his sights, nothing else mattered anymore.
So he didn’t hear the car screeching round the corner, so fast there was almost smoke coming off its tyres.
He didn’t have time to register the fact it had driven straight through the barrier that had cordoned off the street from the movie set, so he had no time to think about moving out of its path.
He didn’t have time.
He just didn’t have time…
CHAPTER 32
India
swung round as the sound of screeching tyres – mixed with the screams from onlookers who’d witnessed everything – filled the air, and for a few seconds she couldn’t quite register what was happening.
It was all a blur of shouting and smoke and total confusion as she watched the car make its exit as quickly as it had appeared, the sound of the paparazzi cameras clicking away as the scene outside The Amber Palace entrance slowly began to become clear.
All around her people were running about, talking into their cell phones, the sound of sirens now punctuating the air of panic that had suddenly taken over the previously calm movie set.
But all she was aware of was what her eyes were now seeing.
Someone was lying in the road outside the hotel.
They were surrounded by a growing crowd of people, and as
India
felt a hand slip into hers she didn’t turn away from what she was looking at, because she needed to know.
She needed to know who was there, lying in the road.
She knew it was Dominic who’d taken her hand, she knew that because she’d seen Michael run over to whatever it was that was happening.
So she knew the person beside her, holding her hand, she knew that was Dominic.
Dominic was okay.
Michael was fine.
She watched as Michael pushed his way through the crowd outside in the road, frantically shouting at everyone to get back, although everything sounded muffled and faint now, as if she was slowly trying to distance herself from it all.
And then, suddenly, a wave of nausea hit her from out of nowhere.
Because now she was sure she knew who it was who was lying there in the road, lifeless and still.
She was sure she knew who it was.
The glimpse she’d caught of him as he’d lain there, before everyone had crowded round him like some sideshow circus act, that glimpse had been fleeting and brief, but she knew who he was.
And as Michael finally fought his way through the crowd, kneeling down beside the body that had been tossed into the air like some throwaway obstacle that had just got in the way, he turned around and fixed India with a look that tore into her like a razor sharp knife, ripping through her heart with a pain she couldn’t begin to describe.
Yet, at the same time, she felt nothing.
It was as if a numbness had taken over so quickly she’d had no real time to register its appearance.
She felt Dominic squeeze her hand and she looked up at him, willing him to say she’d got it wrong, that Michael had made a mistake, that any second now he’d realise that and his expression would change, but that didn’t happen.
‘The paramedics are on their way, baby…’
‘Don’t say that, Dominic… ‘
That stubborn feeling of denial was taking over again, just as it had that night back in 1997 when she’d refused to believe that Terry had been shot, when she’d tried to pretend that if she blocked out what people were saying to her then it wasn’t really happening.
Dominic squeezed her hand again but this time she let go of him, running over to where police and security were now pushing back the crowd of onlookers, getting rid of the press and paparazzi who were still trying to bulldoze their way through to grab photos that were going to be worth thousands.
But all India wanted to do was prove herself wrong, prove that what she’d thought she’d seen was nothing but her mind playing cruel tricks on her.
Falling to her knees next to Michael, though, only brought home a crashing sense of reality as her eyes fell on the perfectly still body of the only man she trusted with every inch of her being.
The only man – bar her beautiful little boy – that she would do absolutely anything for.
The man that she loved more than anyone could ever imagine.
Her father.
***
Charley had heard the noise, the screeching of tyres audible even from inside the salon, and as she ran out of her office, out of
Charley’s
, running through the shopping mall to the main body of the hotel, running so fast she felt as though her heart was going to burst out of her chest, she couldn’t help but think the worst.
She wanted to be wrong, of course she did.
She didn’t want to think that this had anything to do with Jimmy, but the things he’d said to her, the look in his eyes – he had no regard for anyone’s feelings, people didn’t matter to him.
But revenge did, and he’d promised to get that in whatever way he could.
And that’s what worried Charley as she finally reached the immense atrium of The Amber Palace lobby, which was now crawling with police and security.
‘I need to get past… I need to be out there… My friends…’
A stoic-faced security guard stuck his arm out in front of her, stopping her in her tracks, preventing her from going any further.
‘I’m sorry, Mrs
Maine
, but we can’t let you go out there.’
‘Jesus… please, I need to see
India
…’
She felt frightened tears prick the back of her eyes, her skin crawling with a horrifying realisation because, although she couldn’t move any further, she could still see everything that was happening through the vast expanse of the glass doors.
And, as she took in the scene in front of her, of Reece lying in the road,
India
cradling his head in her lap, Michael’s arm around her, Dominic by her side as the paramedics arrived to take over, she felt sick to her stomach.
Closing her eyes for a second she was aware of the security guard’s arm being lifted away, to be replaced by strong arms pulling her in against them and she didn’t fight it, she let herself fall against them.
Whoever they were.
‘By hurting all the others,’ she whispered, slowly opening her eyes, staring into deep, dark ones that belonged to Kenny Ross.
No wonder she’d felt safe the second those arms had held her.
‘That’s what he’d said, Kenny.
He could hurt me more by hurting all the others…’
***
Jimmy walked over to the window, peering through the blinds to look outside, blowing cigar smoke up at the ceiling as the black
Toyota
pulled up outside the Bail Bond office.
He watched as it screeched to a halt, kicking a barrage of dust up into the air, its occupants vacating the car before it had even come to a standstill.
Jimmy smiled, letting the blinds fall back against the stained and dirty window, stubbing out his cigar in a nearby ashtray and shoving his hands in the pockets of his immaculately-cut suit as the car’s occupants swaggered into the office, kicking the door shut behind them.
Jimmy leant back against the window sill, folding his arms as he stared at the two young and slightly over-eager men before him.
The kind of men he was now surrounding himself with.
Easily mouldable, willing to do anything he told them to do as long as the price was right.
And in Jimmy’s eyes their price was cheap, because what these kids wanted more than anything was the status and notoriety that hanging around with Jimmy Cash gained you in certain circles.
They came from the kind of backgrounds that garnered the respect hanging around with ex-cons and hard-core porn barons got you, so they were quite happy to take the cash and become the lapdogs and yes-men that Jimmy needed right now.
Because this time he wasn’t getting his hands dirty.
Not yet, anyway.
‘All done?’ he asked, his tone telling them in no uncertain terms that things better have gone without a hitch.
The younger of the two men nodded, throwing the car keys back to Jimmy before lighting up a cigarette.
A tall and skinny scruffy-looking white kid,
he could only have been around eighteen or nineteen, but age had never been a concern for Jimmy.
Sometimes, the younger they were the more easily you could mould them.
‘We did everything you said,’ the pale-faced youngster – who was called Jason – murmured, taking a long draw on his cigarette before blowing smoke down at the ground.
‘Followed your instructions to the letter.’
The second man – a taller, more handsome and slightly older black kid who went by the name of Amos – sat down on the battered old sofa next to the vending machine, lounging back on it in an act that Jimmy considered just a touch over-cocky for his liking.
They weren’t anywhere near as tough as they thought they were, and without his protection they’d be staring jail square in the face right now, for sure.
So they needed to respect him, or they’d be in more trouble than they could even begin to imagine.
‘It was one hell of a fucking trip!’ Amos laughed, swinging his Converse-covered feet up onto the coffee table in front of him.
‘What a blast!
We just did for one of
Hollywood
’s biggest freakin’ stars!
Man, how much more of a fucking kick can you get?’
Jason laughed too as they high-fived each other before embarking on some ridiculous handshake, and Jimmy watched them, assessing their future suitability.
They may well have carried out this act just as he’d asked them to, but from what he could see here they had the potential to veer way off course, and Jimmy couldn’t risk that.
He’d need to keep a very close eye on them.
‘Who did you hit?’ Jimmy asked, raising his voice slightly in order to make sure he was commanding the attention and respect he deserved.
He was very much in charge here, and they needed to know that.
And remember it.
When he’d sent them out on this job all he’d known was that filming was taking place on the street outside The Amber Palace, meaning there was sure to be more than a healthy selection of potential targets, all linked to Charley, all guaranteed to make her think twice about what she’d done to him in the past.
All guaranteed to make her realise that, when Jimmy Cash threatened to do something, those threats were always carried out – always.
No matter what the circumstances.
There was no way he could have given them a specific target because he’d had no way of knowing who was going to be around at what time.
All he could hope for was that the target they’d hit was one big enough to send a message out to a woman who needed to know that he meant business.
A woman he was determined would have her life turned upside down because of what she’d done to him.
That was his ultimate aim.
Charley
Maine
needed to know where she belonged.
And, as far as Jimmy was concerned, she hadn’t learnt anywhere near enough lessons.
She’d gone against him in the past, but she’d never do that again.
He’d make sure she got that message, loud and clear.
Amos looked at Jimmy, flicking the baseball cap he was wearing back on his head, revealing dark eyes and a look that he may well have thought was menacing but it came across as rather naive, Jimmy thought.
These kids were punching way above their weight here, but he’d let them play on.
For a while.
They could still prove to be quite useful to him.
‘We got Reece Brogan,’ Amos smirked, issuing Jason with another high-five.
Jimmy looked briefly out of the window, watching as two extremely pretty and incredibly under-dressed young women walked arm-in-arm into the strip club across the street, giggling away like a couple of school girls.
He wondered if they’d make it worth his while paying that place a visit later.
He could do with some light relief, and they looked as though they could well serve a purpose – especially if they came as a package.
‘I’m assuming – and I better be assuming right, for your sakes – that you left him alive?
As I specifically asked you to?’
Whoever their target had been – and Reece Brogan was a good one; a very good one – he hadn’t wanted them killed.
No, what he was doing here was firing warning shots.
That was all.
Just warning shots.
For now.