“Don’t worry, I’m going out,” I tell her, “Under no circumstances do you let her out of this flat or let anyone in. No one,” I warn William.
“Where are you going?” she asks, forcing me to look at her and not William.
“I’ll be back soon, I mean it, babe, don’t leave this flat.”
Stan is waiting by the door and looks like he is ready to kill. Seeing Marg in her condition will do that to any man.
“Where to first?” he asks, tossing me a baseball cap from the rack by the front door.
“The Old Dagger.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Drake
The Old Dagger is exactly the same when we walk through the door. Not one thing has changed. It must have been over three years since I was last here and the furniture is the same, the same drinkers sitting at roughly the same tables I remember them sitting at and the same bloody landlord behind the bar.
Denny grins when he sees Stan and I approaching and we bump fists.
“What the bloody hell are you doing back?” he asks, already pouring us two large whiskeys.
“We’re looking for Tommy the Tank, you seen him around?” I ask.
He thinks it over as he slides our drinks across the bar and grabs the towel he had draped over his shoulder.
“I haven’t seen him in about six months, do you want me to put the feelers out?”
“Yeah, here’s my number if he comes in. Don’t give it to anyone.” I warn him, writing it down on a beer mat.
He tucks it into his back pocket and I down the whiskey, sliding the empty tumbler back to him. Stan follows suit and we leave the pub.
“Where to now?” he asks, unlocking the car.
“Is his sister still pulling pints in the Harold Inn?”
“I’m not sure, come on, we’ll go see.”
When we arrived at the Harold, it was boarded up and abandoned. We hit four more pubs in the area and have no joy finding anything out about Tommy. No one had seen him and most of them thought he was back inside again.
“He’s around here somewhere,” I sigh, lighting a cigarette, “He’s waiting for me, he isn’t far. How can no one have seen him?”
“He doesn’t want to be yet, he’ll show his face eventually.” Stan urges.
“He’s playing with us.”
“Feels that way,” he agrees and starts the car.
“We’ll go back to Marg’s and lay low for a while, and tonight we’ll go out again. I wonder if he’s still with Claudia?” I ponder.
“Who cares? She’ll be joining him if I find out she had anything to do with the attack on Marg,” he promises.
That’s the thing I like about Stan, he never threatens, he promises and carries through.
“Why didn’t you tell me Drake stopped going to his probation meetings?” I hear Cammie ask Marg when I get to the top of the stairs. I stop and sit on the top step.
I can’t hear Marg’s reply on account she can’t speak, I’m more interested in what Cammie has to ask. She hasn’t really spoken to me today.
“I get that, but I thought we were friends now. We’ve been through enough to make us friendly enough to tell each other that kind of stuff. I had a right to know.”
It goes quiet while Marg replies in writing.
“I know he loves me, I wish he would see how much I love him though. I need to know if there is a possibility he will be taken away from me. I can’t bear it, not again. I barely survived without him the first time.”
I hate hearing the fear in her voice. I, myself know I’m not going anywhere. What will it take for her to believe me?
I stand and go to the bedroom before she works herself up anymore.
“When did you get back?” Cammie asks, sitting up straighter on the bed next to the patient.
“Just now,” I lie.
Marg holds up her notepad and I move closer to read what she has written.
‘Any joy finding him?’
“No, nobody has seen him apparently. We’re going to head out again tonight.” I inform her.
“So, this is where the party is?” Stan chuckles, entering the room with us all.
It really isn’t big enough to fill us all in but we settle in as best we can and keep Marg company.
“William’s gone to the shops, taking advantage while we’re here to stock up on the groceries.”
Cammie and Marg settle back in to their half spoken, half written conversation and Stan and I go through all the snooker halls and pubs we can think of, ready for tonight.
William goes and returns under our noses and prepares a crockpot of curry. The next few hours waiting for night to fall drags by painfully slow.
Patience are tested and when Stan’s phone goes off, it wakes everyone back up.
“Alright, baby. What’s up?”
I sit up when his face turns from joy to confusion.
“What friend? Nobody knows where we live.”
He flies out of his chair and his face goes red in anger.
“What the fuck are you doing at my house?” he shouts down the phone.
The silence drones on.
“I swear to God, if you lay one hand on them I will kill you over ten years, very painfully…”
He goes quiet, listening.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You’re a dead man, Tommy. You hear me? You’re dead.”
He pulls the phone away from his ear and scowls at the screen. Shoving it in his pocket, he turns to me and I see pure fear in his eyes.
“He’s at my house, he’s with Lorna and my daughter, Drake. We’ve got to go, now.”
“Are they okay?” Cammie asks, climbing off the bed and yanking her boots back on.
“She sounded fine, Tommy was talking on the phone like we are mates so I don’t think she knows anything is wrong. She also referred to him as Adam so she doesn’t know who he really is, not that she knows much anyway.”
Marg waves us off and Cammie quickly promises her we’ll be back soon and she’ll let William know what happens.
All three of us flat out run to the cars and Stan is in and reversing out before I put the key in the ignition.
Usually it should take just over an hour to get to Stan’s place, I don’t think it will take that long. Stan is pressing the pedal to the floor all the way and I don’t know how he hasn’t crashed or been pulled over. I struggle to keep up with him and fall behind when we get caught at the lights.
“He’s going to kill himself before he can get home,” Cammie mutters, watching the back of his car fade into the distance swerving between traffic.
We hit a straight road and I open the car up and push the limits as much as I can without causing our own car crash.
Driving up to the house twenty-six minutes later, Stan’s car is idling, parked at an angle and the driver’s door wide open.
“Lock the doors and don’t come in till I know it’s safe,” I tell Cammie quickly, swinging open my door.
I don’t wait for her answer and bolt into the house.
“Stan?” I yell, I can’t hear anything checking each room as I pass.
“In here,” he calls back.
I follow his voice into the kitchen and spin on my feet when a figure moves in the corner of my eye.
Fisting my hand ready to strike, it takes everything not to swing when I see it is my never-listening wife and not Tommy.
“I told you to stay in the fucking car,” I hiss, not knowing what is going down yet.
“You tell me a lot of things, Drake. Have I ever listened before?” she hisses straight back.
I should have known better where she’s concerned, she’d rather put herself in danger then risk not being with me. It would be touching if it weren’t so infuriating.
Yanking her arm so she is behind me, I continue through to the kitchen and breathe a sigh of relief when Lorna is bunched up in Stan’s arms unharmed and Maddie is sound asleep on the couch they have in here.
I loosen my
hold on Cammie and she moves round me and glares to show me I’m in trouble for grabbing at her. I don’t care, I’ll take her prissy mood over anything happening to her because I didn’t try to protect her.
“Are you all right?” Cammie asks Lorna.
“I will be when someone explains what the bleeding hell is going on, and this great lump lets me breathe,” she answers, trying to get of Stan’s death hold.
Cammie shuts her mouth and waits for Stan to explain. Lorna may be her best friend but when it comes to this shit, she knows her place and understands that Stan will tell Lorna what she needs to know, not what she wants to know.
I could never have that type of relationship. Cam would never allow it for a start. If I couldn’t share all parts of my life with a woman I couldn’t be with her, let alone marry her.
“The guy who was here, he isn’t my friend. He was putting on a charade to get at us,” he tells her, nodding between him and I.
“Why?” she asks, looking a little freaked.
“It doesn’t matter, from now on you and Maddie won’t be left alone here. Someone will be with you at all times,” he says, looking at me for confirmation. I nod in agreement and slump into a chair at the table. All this playing around is starting to drain me. All the vendettas and fights I’ve had in my life were always direct and fast.
Tommy is going after the ones we care about, after the stunt he pulled with Marg, he is too far gone to trust around Lorna and Cammie.
“That goes for you too,” I say to Cammie, blood rushes to her cheeks and I brace myself for the argument that’s about to proceed.
“I don’t think so…”
“No,” I boom, cutting her off and her eyes go wide in surprise. This is the first time I’ve spoken to her like this, but I’m hoping she understands.
My world is catching up with me and the only thing that can end me, is anything happening to her.
She knows how I feel about her, she also knows that I will lose all my shit and beat a man to death if they cause one tiny, teeny scratch on her. She’s seen the damage I can do if she is caused pain.
“If we’re going to be cooped up like chickens then I deserve an explanation. A guy came into my house today, a man who is a threat that had you all rushing back here. Tell me what the fuck is going on,” Lorna rants.
“Excuse us,” Stan gruffs, and pushes Lorna towards the stairs, “Keep an eye on Mads,” he adds, before they disappear up to their room.
Cammie joins me at the table and watches Maddie sleep on the couch.
“He isn’t going to tell her anything, he’s going to fuck her until she doesn’t give a shit what’s going on,” she mutters, acidly.
“Everyone deals differently, I don’t tell him how to deal with his wife and he doesn’t tell me…”
“How to deal with me?” she interrupts, the venom in her voice burning.
“I never deal with you. Thank fuck, you’re nothing like your friend,” I say, reaching for her hand, “I’m asking, very, very nicely if, for the next few days at least, you’ll stay here without complaining. What do you think will happen if Tommy hurt you like he did Marg? He’s a dead man for what he did to her, you can’t imagine what I’d do if that were you. The thought alone of you lying in bed with your jaw wired and beaten head to toe makes me want to kill every man on the earth.”
“And how do you think I’d feel if he got to you too? He wants you dead and before that he wants you to know nothing is safe in your life. I’ll do as you ask and stay here, but if you think I’m going to stand by while you go off and throw yourself in the line of danger for me or anyone else, then you’re as crazy as the shrinks think you are.”
My lips pull up at the corners no matter how hard I try to remain serious.
“I fucking love you, babe.”
Her intensity and sincerity is my everything. Her smile, her body and her love, they’re all mine and I’ll protect her to my death.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Drake
Days slowly passed, snow fell and snow melted. The winter was here and the fog that surrounded the country house caused an eerie cycle of nerves and paranoia. Stan and I took turns each night keeping watch, waiting for Tommy’s return like he promised Lorna.
On a few occasions, Stan and I have made a separate secret escapes much to the protests from the women. We’d take turns searching the back street pubs for Tommy and much to our dismay, he still hasn’t been seen anywhere. I visited Marg each time I rocked into London and was staggered to see she wasn’t healing as fast as I expected.
Every time I look at her, it is a reminder that Tommy is still breathing and it makes me feel like I am losing my touch, and I don’t like it.
Arms slide around my waist and warm air hits my bare back with every breath she takes. Not that anyone else would hold me like this but I know her every touch and would be able to seek her out blindfolded just by the way she feels against me.
“I want to go home,” she murmurs.
“I know, babe. We will soon,” I promise.
“I miss our bed, I miss our things, I miss the safety of our world there.”
I understand how she feels, I feel exactly the same.
“What will happen to Tommy when you find him?” she asks, out of the blue.
“What do you think, babe? You know what will happen,” I say, cautiously, turning to look at her.
“I want to hear you say it.”
“As soon as we find him, I’m going to inflict a world of pain on him and then I’m going to kill him and throw his broken body in the canal. Then, after I’ve finished with that, I’ll come back to you, shower and we’ll go home…where we belong.”
I don’t hold back, I give her the honesty she seeks.
“I don’t know what to say to that,” she admits, releasing a shaky breath.
“There’s nothing to say, it is what it is,” I shrug.
“We’ve been through some awful shit and I know you wasn’t a boy scout when I met you, but you’re talking about murder. There’s no going back from that.”
“I don’t want to come back from it,” I tell her, “He won’t stop now, it has to be this way. He either kills me or I kill him. We took millions from him, he lives with it all or we do. I know what I prefer.”
I see her mulling it over, she’s a good girl. She knows I’m being honest and if she were to admit it, she knows I’m right.
“Come on, let’s go and get something to eat.”
I lead her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen where Stan and Lorna are. With people around she won’t have time to think too deeply about what I am going to do.
Between Cammie and Lorna, they knock up good food and the table is soon covered in empty plates and half-drunk glasses of wine and beer bottles.
“That was some good grub, woman,” Stan smiles, to Lorna.
“Glad you think so,” she beams, “You can do the washing up to show your appreciation.”
Cammie and I both snort at the same time. The vision of Stan elbow deep in bubbles and dirty plates is comical and so is his face when it registers what Lorna has asked of him.
“I don’t do dishes, woman. That’s your job,” he shoots back.
“My job? You’re so fucking sexist,” she jeers.
“I think you mean, I’m so fucking sexy,” he retaliates.
“Nope, I’m pretty sure I mean, sexiest.”
I tune them out knowing this could go on for hours or end up being sorted out in the bedroom.
Instead, I divert my attention to my own wife. She has little Maddie perched on her lap and look like they are in their own little world.
A safe and happy world, a world I want for them every day no matter where we are.
With Marg hurt and Tommy turning up the house a couple of weeks ago, it’s only a matter of time before it kicks off. We have taken every precaution of being ready for him, but my patience ran out when I bumped into a very naked Stan in the middle of the night making
a dash for the bathroom.
“We’ll head into London again tomorrow, both of us. We’ll pop in and check on Marg before scouting around, he is somewhere, we’ve got to dig deeper. I want his location and I don’t care how many people we have to hurt to get it.”
I speak out determined.
“No more fucking around, I want his location.”
“Drake, what about these two?” Stan asks, waving his hand in front of Cammie and Lorna.
“They can either go and see Marg or spend the day shopping, you stay in the shopping centre from the second we drop you off till the second we come and get you. You stay in the public eye everywhere you go.”
“We’ll go shopping,” they both grin.
“I swear to God, babe, if you leave this centre before I get back, I will not be fucking happy,” I warn Cammie, before kissing her softly on the lips.
“Don’t worry about us, just make sure you find that piece of scum so we can go home.”
“I’ll call when we’re on our way.”
I keep my arms around her while we wait for Stan to finish setting the stroller up for little Maddie. Lorna is like a pig in shit taking a hold of the bundle of cash Stan passes her and quickly kisses him goodbye.
We hang back and wait for them to disappear through the doors before jumping in the car and disappearing ourselves.
Our first stop after checking in on Marg, is The Old Dagger. I haven’t heard from Denny since I left him my number, maybe a face to face reminder is in order.
The doors open as we arrive and we’re not the first ones to enter. It turns my stomach how these lowlifes can start so early. Instead of earning for their families, they’re drinking away the benefits they get for sitting around on their arses.
“All right, Denny. I need to know where Tommy is now. He isn’t fucking invincible, someone here would have seen him,” I control my tone but he can tell I’m not messing around.
“We’re willing to give a healthy incentive for any information,” Stan chips in.
“You on about Tommy the Tank?”
We both turn to find a crumpled dressed, middle aged guy sitting at a table behind us.