Authors: Jessie Keane
‘I said you got it. I don’t want him. Trust me, he’s all yours.’
‘Well . . .’ Now Dusty looked downright bewildered. She had expected a catfight. She was a tough, compact girl and she could punch her weight. That was what she had come to do. Now, all the wind had gone out of her sails.
‘You’re welcome to him,’ said Annie.
‘Right. Well . . . just make sure you keep away,’ said Dusty, backing off.
‘Glad to.’
With another scowl at her ‘adversary’, Dusty went back to Gary’s banquette. Annie turned and looked at Dolly.
‘Well, you’ve mellowed a bit,’ Dolly remarked. ‘So, what’d he say?’ she asked.
‘He said he was following Max’s orders,’ said Annie.
‘Ah.’ Dolly’s face was troubled. ‘Listen, d’you think Max will put in his own management?’
Annie looked at Dolly. Dolly loved this job, overseeing the running of the clubs. If she lost her job, she lost her home too. She was right to be worried.
‘I don’t know, Doll. I’ll talk to him.’
Dolly’s shoulders sagged with relief. Which they
wouldn’t
have, if Dolly only knew how little clout Annie had with Max these days. ‘Drink?’ Dolly offered.
‘No. Thanks. Business okay?’
‘Okay in bits. Jesus, it’s just the same, whether you’re running a club or a knocking-shop, you get some weird punters. It ain’t all beer and skittles, I can tell you. We got a nice woman comes in here, regular customer, pillar of society, married, all that, and I caught her having a three-er with one of the doormen and two of the punters out in the back alley.’
Annie’s eyes widened. A three-er was one up her arse, one up the front, and giving a blow-job to another one. ‘What was she, high?’
‘As a kite,’ Dolly sniffed. ‘Don’t know who slipped her the stuff, but I sacked Paul on the spot and barred the other two.’ She sighed. ‘Which means I got to find another doorman, and that’s a shame. Paul was good at the job. You know, times have changed. You get more and more drug action now. For a minute there I thought I was back in Limehouse, running a brothel. I tell you, even
I
was shocked.’
Annie had a thought. ‘I don’t suppose a girl called Gerda’s been in touch? She looks after Layla.’
Dolly leaned her elbows on the bar. ‘Gerda? No. Why would she do that? And how is Layla? You haven’t brought her over to see me yet.’
Only because I can’t.
‘Layla’s fine, it’s just been a bit hectic since I got back.’ But what if Gerda
couldn’t
get in touch? Gerda was a sensible girl – surely she would soon. But if she couldn’t, if she was somehow being stopped from making contact . . . oh God, that was a terrifying thought.
‘You mean, with Max showing up and everything?’ said Dolly.
‘Yeah.’
‘You two made up? Only Ellie told me he was mad as a cut snake about you marrying Constantine.’
‘Yeah, everything’s fine,’ lied Annie. ‘I’ll catch you later, okay?’
She walked off, leaving Dolly staring after her. Dolly
knew
Max Carter. She knew Annie was telling porkies.
Annie came out of the club. She saw Max parked up across the road and instead of crossing over she hailed an approaching cab, got in and said: ‘Limehouse, please.’
So he thought he could just barrel back in here and ride roughshod over everything she’d strived for? Well, if that was how he wanted it, then that was how it would be. But she’d be
damned
before she’d sit there meekly beside him in the passenger seat and, the truth was, if she’d got into that car with him again tonight, she would have tried to tear his head off his shoulders and beat him with the wet end.
Fuck
him.
She was in the huge, well-appointed kitchen in the Holland Park house, on her own, drinking tea, when he caught up with her.
‘Don’t ever do that again,’ he said, coming in and looking as if he was about to throttle someone, preferably
her.
Annie, seated at the kitchen table, looked up at him coolly.
‘What? Not toe the line? Not do as I’m told?’ She shrugged. ‘This is probably news to you, but I don’t take orders, I
give
them. Like I gave orders for the clubs to be refurbed. Like I gave orders and turned them around from a loss-maker to a profitable chain. Like I gave orders to change the name to something a bit more
current
, instead of something that sounds like a sodding Fifties leftover.’
‘The Palermo don’t sound like a Fifties leftover. Neither does the Blue Parrot or the Shalimar. All that’s bugging you is that you had
your
name plastered all over
my
clubs, and I’ve altered that.’
‘What
else
are you going to alter?’ Annie demanded as he sat down opposite her and glared at her. ‘Dolly’s shit-scared you’re going to put in your own people. She needs that job.’
Max looked at her narrow-eyed. ‘I might do that.’
Annie emptied her cup and slammed it down on the table. ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘You hurt Dolly and you spite
me
, right? Of all the petty, mean-minded sons of bitches, you really do take the prize.’ She stood up. ‘I’m going to bed.’
He stood up too, grabbed her arm, slammed her back against the larder door. Annie let out a gasp of surprise. He leaned in close. ‘No, you’re not.’
Now Annie was getting good and mad. ‘Think you’ll find I am.’
‘No. We should talk about the Barolli family. About the explosion.’
‘As if
you
care. In fact, if the thing had blown me to buggery too, you’d have been spared the inconvenience of coming back here and finding that your wife had crawled into bed with another man and lived to tell the tale. And that would have suited you down to the
ground
, wouldn’t it?’
Max’s jaw tightened as she spoke, but he didn’t let go of her. ‘Steve told me how Constantine helped when Layla got snatched.’
‘Did he?’
‘Yeah, he did. He said that if Constantine hadn’t stepped in, Layla would have been done for.’
Annie looked into his eyes. ‘Steve’s right. That’s true.’
‘So what was it – a gratitude shag?’
Annie’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘You don’t
marry
a man out of gratitude,’ she said icily.
‘What then? Come on. I want to know. What was it?’ He was very close now, holding her there when all she wanted to do was get away. ‘Was it love?’
‘You don’t know the
meaning
of that word,’ said Annie.
He was nodding his head now, eyeing her like she was something hateful. ‘And you do, since you met Barolli.’
‘That’s right,’ she snapped.
‘Jesus, you are
such
a tart.’
‘No, tarts charge. I give it away for free. To anyone who wants it, according to you.’
‘Bitch.’
‘Oh really? While we’re on the subject of caring and fidelity, if you were
not
dead, if you were only
playing
dead, what were you doing for over two years? Taking a hike over the fucking Himalayas? Why didn’t you come back sooner? Were you on a bloody world cruise or something? Come on, I’d really like to know.
I thought you were dead.
I thought that and I forced myself to move on. I had to do it. For Layla, and for myself.’
‘Oh, so it was a big wrench then? Learning to live without me.’
He sounded so bitter, so disbelieving, that it just got Annie’s back up more.
‘Not really, no,’ she lied.
‘You cow,’ he snarled.
‘Yeah, and you’re a bastard,’ she shot back. ‘Now are you going to let me go or do I have to scream the bloody place down? How would you explain
that
to the family, being as you’re my bodyguard and you’re supposed to
stop
people from doing me over, not do it your fucking self.’
Max let her go with a shove. Annie staggered and steadied herself against the polished-steel worktop. She looked at the wooden block there, stuffed with knives. Suddenly she’d had enough. She grabbed the biggest and advanced on him. He didn’t flinch; didn’t step back.
When she stood right in front of him holding the knife, she reversed the blade so that the point rested between her breasts. She yanked her blouse open, buttons popping off and flying in all directions with the force of it. She stared into his eyes.
‘You hate me so much?’ she spat out. ‘Then
do
it. Kill me if it makes you happy. The way I feel right now, you’d be doing me a
favour
.’
Max was very still, just watching her. She pushed the point of the knife more firmly against her skin, and a bead of blood bloomed there.
‘Enough,’ he said, and wrenched it off her.
‘What, don’t you have the
guts
?’ she challenged.
Max raised the knife until the point touched her chin. He applied the slightest pressure, forcing her head up. Their eyes locked.
‘It don’t take guts to kill,’ he said coldly. ‘It just takes rage. That’s all. And if a man can’t control that, then he ain’t much of a man.’
He lowered the blade and slotted it smoothly back into the block. Then he turned and left the room without another word.
Annie awoke in the small hours of the night. This was nothing unusual. She slept badly, ever since Constantine’s death. And as soon as she woke, the dread came flooding back, the horror of it all. Ah shit, he’d be there in the chair again, sitting there blackened, charred, unrecognizable. But . . . something had awakened her, something else.
Some movement?
That was it. Something had moved inside the room.
She lay absolutely still, listening hard. Yeah, someone was moving across the floor . . . coming towards the bed. As her eyes grew accustomed to the darkness she could see a darker outline moving towards her.
Holy
shit
, she thought, her gut tightening with fear.
Into her mind sprang what had happened to her in the hospital; someone had held a pillow over her face, and if the nurse and Nico hadn’t happened to come in at that moment, she would have been suffocated.
She could hear her heart thwacking away against her ribs, could feel clammy sweat breaking out all over her body as the figure came nearer and nearer.
Finally, it was looming right over where she lay. At that moment, Annie managed to get her frozen limbs moving. She shot off the bed and sprinted across the room to the door connecting her room to Max’s, and hammered on it as loudly as she could.
‘
Help!
’ she shouted, thinking that whoever was in here was going to pull her away, cover her mouth, and then she’d be lost. But an instant later she heard more movement and the door onto the landing opened and then slammed shut.
She turned, cringing against the connecting door. Max was pounding on it from the other side. Christ, the thing was
locked
, of course it was, on her side. She fumbled in the darkness for the key, turned it. Max dashed in.
‘What the fuck’s happening?’ he asked.
‘I don’t know . . . I think there was someone in here . . .’ But now she couldn’t be sure it had happened at all. She was so used to nightmares, so used to horrors dogging her sleep, that now she couldn’t be sure that this hadn’t been a horrible dream.
She felt him move past her, go over to the bed. He fumbled for the switch on the lamp, turned it on. Golden light flooded the room. Now Annie became aware that she was standing there, naked. At least Max had his undershorts on; she didn’t even have
that.
‘Fuck’s sake, put something on,’ he said irritably, and flung her robe at her.
Annie caught it, slipped it on, belted it firmly.
There was movement out on the landing now, people coming. Alberto was first, shrugging on a silk dressing gown and looking anxiously at Annie standing there, sheet-white, beside the inner door.
‘What’s happening? Are you all right?’ He hurried over to her.
There had been someone there. All right, she dreamed sometimes, ghastly dreams, but this was reality. She was
sure
someone had been coming towards her in the dark. But she didn’t want to throw the whole household into uproar. And then Max’s words in the pool came back to her:
I’d look closer to home if I were you.
Had one of the family been in here? She looked at Alberto, his eyes worried, his arms automatically going around her.
Oh Jesus, what was happening to her? Was she losing her mind? Or could Max be right, could one of the family be trying to harm her? Could one of them actually have killed Constantine? And could they now be coming after her, too?
‘I’m fine,’ she said stiffly. ‘I’m sorry. I had a dream, that’s all. A bad dream.’
Lucco was strolling in now, belting his robe, looking around the room, giving Max the old beady eye.
‘What is this?’ he asked.
‘I had a dream,’ said Annie. ‘Sorry to wake you. It’s nothing.’
‘You’re shaking,’ said Alberto.
Annie gently detached herself. ‘I’m fine now. Really. Mark’s here, he’ll look after me. Go on back to bed. I’m fine.’
They left the room, Lucco looking exasperated, Alberto reluctant.
The door closed behind them, and Max was still standing by the bed staring at her.
‘Okay – what?’ she asked.
‘Nothing,’ he said flatly.
‘No, go on. Whatever’s on your mind, say it.’ ‘All right. Golden Boy was first through the door. Was it him? Did you invite him in and then change your mind and start hollering the house down? Is that it? Was that little performance for my benefit, and Lucco’s?’
Annie came over to the bed. She fumbled open the drawer in the bedside cabinet, pulled out a Smith & Wesson and a box of bullets. She sat down on the bed and started loading the gun. ‘You know what?’ she said hotly, shoving the bullets into the chambers with angry, shaky movements. ‘You really are a complete
shit
.’
‘What, does the truth hurt? And what the
fuck
are you doing now?’ He snatched the gun off her, turned it over in his hands. ‘This is
my
gun.’