Authors: Jessie Keane
Annie shrugged and let out a sigh. Oh, what the hell? It was all academic now. Maybe she could have contested it, but that would only have brought Lucco’s wrath down upon her head, and would any sane person want that? She’d been screwed over. It was best to accept it, and move on.
‘How’s Lucco coping with it all?’ she asked Alberto, leaving the subject of the will. She could see that it made him anxious and uncomfortable.
He gave a slight shrug – it was his father’s gesture, so like Constantine that again she felt her gut tighten; it was torture, but it was lovely, too, to see his movements echoed by his son.
‘Okay,’ said Alberto, lowering his voice slightly. ‘There’s been some trouble on the streets, young up-and-coming thugs trying their luck, pushing in. I’ve seen it happen a dozen times. Some of the Dons get sent down or they die, and for a while there’s chaos. The police can’t control it, but the families can. We’ll get them back in line.’
‘Will you though? Can Lucco hold it together like Constantine could?’ she asked.
‘He can. He must. Papa had the whole of Queens and the chief of police in his pocket, and now Lucco has too. Things fall apart a little under these circumstances, but they get put back in order.’
She knew what he meant. Constantine’s death had left punks in the underworld with hopes of a gap they could crawl through. Now, Lucco had to close those gaps down, forcefully.
‘And . . . the police haven’t found out anything more about your father’s death?’ she asked.
Alberto shook his head and suddenly his eyes were hard. ‘They don’t care about my father’s death,’ he said flatly. ‘Why should they? No, we don’t depend on the police to put matters right. That’s for the family, not them.’
‘But you don’t know who was responsible . . .?’
‘No, I don’t.’ Alberto’s eyes met hers and for a moment he
was
Constantine. Tough. Ruthless. Ready to act. ‘If I did, I would kill them with my own bare hands.’
He turned his head and saw Daniella coming out onto the terrace, and his expression changed. Suddenly, he was amiable Alberto again.
‘Hello, sweetness,’ he said to Daniella, who was looking horribly self-conscious in a one-piece black swimsuit. ‘Sleep well?’
She flashed him a grateful smile. ‘Yes, thank you,’ she said, and sat down near him and Annie.
‘Gold’s down,’ said Aunt Gina to no one in particular, turning pink pages.
Lucco was staring across at Max. ‘I suppose you’re ex-army?’ he asked.
Don’t rise to it
, thought Annie, but Max put aside his paper.
‘That’s right,’ he said. ‘Special Air Services.’
Oh for God’s sake.
The closest Max had ever come to the army was a brief spell of National Service, and she knew for a fact that he had spent most of
that
in the slammer for bad behaviour. If he’d ever applied to join the SAS – and he wouldn’t – they’d have turned him down as too bloody rough and too downright nasty.
‘So I guess you know all this karate and judo bullshit, all this unarmed combat crap?’ asked Lucco derisively, making mocking little chopping motions with his hands.
Max lifted his shades and stared at Lucco.
‘That’s right,’ he said levelly. ‘You want to try it out?’
Oh here we go
, thought Annie.
Another who-can-piss-highest-up-the-wall contest.
Lucco stared equably back at Max.
‘Not right now,’ he said, and dropped his shades back into place and returned his attention to the newspaper.
‘Don’t fucking well
do
that,’ snapped Cara, as Rocco emerged from the pool, splashing her inadvertently with water as he wrapped himself in a towel.
‘Come on, sweetie, let’s swim,’ said Alberto, and he and Daniella went into the water at a run. They splashed around in the pool, Daniella shrieking with laughter, Alberto trying to tickle her.
When they eventually clambered out, they were still giggling like a pair of teenagers as they dried off. And it was then that Annie saw the blue bruises on Daniella’s wrists and thighs.
That rotten little runt
, she thought.
The poor cow was out buying necklaces to make herself look good for Lucco, and he was hurting her in return. She wondered if anyone else had noticed the marks. She got up and dived into the pool, working off her anger at Lucco with fast, overarm laps. Finally, breathless, she came to rest at one end of the pool, aware that someone else had dived in and was now shooting along underwater like a torpedo, coming straight at her.
Lucco?
She gripped the pool’s edge, thinking that if it
was
Lucco then the bastard was almost certainly going to pull her down and try to half drown her, just for a laugh. One thing Lucco loved, it was throwing a scare into people.
But the man who shot up from the water in front of her was Max. He paused there, pushing his hair back. Their thighs touched under the surface and Annie shrank away from him.
‘You’re still a good swimmer,’ he said so that only she could hear.
‘So are you.’
‘Gerda been in touch yet?’
‘No,’ said Annie. She had to go on believing that Gerda would have the sense to do that soon. But then . . . then he’d take Layla from her. She was torn, wanting news of Layla, but dreading her return.
‘Shame.’
Annie glanced around, concerned that the others would see them here talking in whispers and get the wrong idea. She caught Cara’s eyes and saw the cynicism in the girl’s mocking gaze. She knew what she was thinking.
Oh yeah? So it’s off-limits for me to get close to the staff, but not for you?
But that wasn’t the case. She wasn’t close to Max. She had not the slightest desire to alter that, either.
‘So what’s this business about the will?’ asked Max under his breath.
He’d always had ears like a bat; she’d forgotten.
‘That was a private conversation between Alberto and me,’ she said angrily.
‘Yeah, I noticed how cosy you were getting with Golden Boy.’
‘What?’
‘Alberto. The one’s who’s the dead spit of Constantine. I
knew
Constantine, remember?’
‘I don’t know
what
you’re talking about.’
‘No?’ Max looked casually at the people around the pool. ‘What’s this then, plan B? Lucco’s too much of a slimy little worm to get close to, but Alberto . . . well, he’ll have his fair share of the Mafia millions, enough for you to splash out on private yachts in the Med and ski chalets in the Swiss Alps, and – let’s face it – he
does
look like his father . . .’
Annie had to bite her lip, hard, to keep back a flood of angry words. She felt like tearing his eyes out, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of flaring up just so he could slap her down.
‘Yeah, and the similarity ends there. Constantine’s dead. And I don’t want another man, not even one who looks like him,’ she retorted.
Max’s eyes were alight with spite; he could see he’d needled her and he was pleased about it. ‘As to that . . .’ he said softly.
‘As to
what?
’
‘Constantine’s death. Daniella told me it was an explosion.’
Annie held herself rigid, tried not to react. Any time she thought back to the day of Lucco and Daniella’s wedding, she felt herself break out in a cold, horrified sweat. She didn’t want Max to see her losing it.
‘It was,’ she said. She could feel her stomach start to churn.
‘And that if you’d been standing a few steps closer, it would have got you as well as him.’
‘That’s right.’ She could see it again. Oh
shit
, she could see it. Constantine walking towards her with the parcel.
Hey, wonder what’s in this one?
Death
was in there. His death, and very nearly hers too.
She gulped hard, turned her head away from Max’s probing eyes.
‘And you say he’d made provision for you in his will, but it somehow got overlooked?’ said Max. ‘Bet you’re gutted over
that.
’
Annie turned back towards him. Once she had loved him, but now he was cruel and so predatory, endlessly picking at her – and she couldn’t stand it; she felt sick, weak, shaken by events. Nico’s death. Losing Constantine. Losing the baby, their precious baby . . .
‘I don’t know what you’re getting at,’ she said faintly, wishing he’d just leave her alone.
All around her she felt threats and danger. If there was ever a time when she
needed
a bodyguard, a true and loyal protector, a shining knight in armour, it was now. And all she had was a man who despised her and called her a money-grubbing whore.
‘What I’m
getting
at is this. You think it was a hit by another of the Mafia families wanting to push in, destabilize the Barollis by taking out Constantine in the hopes that Lucco wouldn’t be able to maintain control?’
‘Yeah. That’s
exactly
what I think.’
‘Well, I’m not so sure.’
Now Annie was staring at him with puzzlement on her face. ‘
What?
’
‘Wake up and smell the bloody coffee. This lot don’t like you one little bit and they’ve inherited the earth now Constantine’s off the scene.’ His eyes were resting on Lucco. ‘If
I
was looking for whoever set that death trap, I think I’d be looking a damned sight closer to home.’
The first thing Annie saw when she got to the door of the club that evening was that the ‘Annie’s’ sign was missing. Max – or
Mark –
had driven her here and was waiting in the car for her, out in the brightly lit main road, no more shadowy side roads like last time.
She felt a shiver run up her spine as she thought of coming here with Nico, not knowing he was soon to die. Her whole life seemed to be shrouded in a cloak of doom; she couldn’t shake off the feeling that at any moment some new horror was going to confront her, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to cope.
‘Well, you took your bloody time,’ said Dolly, poodle-permed and neatly suited as always, when Annie pitched up at the bar.
It was busy, as always. T. Rex’s ‘Get It On’ was pouring out of the sound system, the go-go dancers shaking their pretty arses up on their podiums. Annie looked up. Above the bar, there was no red neon ‘Annie’s’ sign either.
‘Oh, you’ve noticed,’ said Dolly, following Annie’s gaze.
‘What is it, electrical problem? I see the sign on the front’s down too.’
‘
Electrical?
’ Dolly gave a bark of laughter. ‘Fuck me, I wouldn’t bother you with something as simple as that. This is more . . . a
Carter
problem. As in, Max Carter’s boys have been in and the signs have come down. They’re telling me the new ones are on their way.’
‘
New
ones?’ Annie’s jaw hit the floor.
‘Palermo. That’s the new name. Same as the old one, minus the Lounge part. Look, Gary’s over there, you can ask him if you don’t believe me.’
Oh God, she didn’t want to ask him anything. But she went over there to his banquette anyway. Lanky blond Gary, Max’s most feared and vicious foot soldier, was sitting there with a brightly dyed little redhead, and his pale eyes when he spotted her went from warm and full of laughter to mean and hard.
‘Hi, Gary,’ said Annie, having to shout to make herself heard.
The Dusty Springfield lookalike was there too, eyeing her while whispering things into the redhead’s ear. The redhead looked at Annie and started to laugh.
‘Not sure what I should call you now,’ said Gary acidly. ‘Mrs Carter? Mrs Barolli? None of the above?’
Annie felt a spurt of anger at his tone. ‘Call me whatever the fuck you like. But it’s Mrs Carter-Barolli actually – since you’re asking.’
‘Not that I give a shit either way, you understand.’
‘Yeah. Think I got
that
message. What’s going on with the signs?’
He shrugged lazily. ‘Just Max putting stuff back the way it should be. They’re
his
cunting clubs after all.’
Bloody Max. He’d driven her here and not given her a damned clue about what she was to expect. But Gary was right. The clubs had always been Max’s, not hers. She had stepped in when they were crumbling and turned them around. She didn’t expect to get any thanks, but she was downright offended that he hadn’t even thought to mention this to her.
She was about to turn away, but she just
had
to ask. She moved closer to Gary and spoke more softly so that the two girls wouldn’t hear.
‘What . . . what did you do with Nico?’
Gary flicked back his straight blond hair and grinned. ‘Sleeping with the fishes,’ he said with a cheery wink. ‘As they say in Mafia circles. Which I suppose you know all about. Don’t you.’
Bastard.
She walked away from him, back to the bar. Suddenly someone was yanking at her arm. She saw Dolly’s face ahead of her, behind the bar, looking anxious. She turned.
‘Look,’ said Dusty, her hard eyes glaring into Annie’s, ‘you want to fuck off out of it. He ain’t interested in you any more.’
Annie stared at the girl. Then she turned, looked behind her. Looked back at the girl. ‘I’m sorry – are you talking to
me
?’
‘You ought to just show a bit of dignity and eff off. You’re yesterday’s news. He’s with me now. He don’t want you.’
‘Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, have you?’ said Annie, and turned away to the bar.
Dusty pulled her back. ‘What I
mean
is this: I don’t want to see your scrawny carcass hanging around him, you got that?’
Scrawny carcass?
Now that did hurt. Just a bit.
Annie shrugged. ‘You got it,’ she said.
‘What?’ Dusty looked confused. She hadn’t expected it to be this easy.
Dolly was watching the exchange like a spectator at Wimbledon, her head moving between the two as volleys were exchanged. She was waiting for Annie to flatten the audacious little mare. Suddenly, the night was getting interesting.