Susie sat on a chair opposite Donnie, the knife gripped firmly in one hand and a mobile phone in the other. She’d pulled the blade away from his neck after shitting out of actually killing him. That wasn’t the kind of person she was. Susie Fowler was just a woman who owned a pub. Nothing more and nothing less. He knew a woman like her wouldn’t have the balls to kill him. If it was the other way around, Susie would be dead by now.
Steff had disappeared not long after Susie had changed her mind about slitting his throat. Donnie still couldn’t believe that his brother had betrayed him like that. What he couldn’t work out was why.
‘I don’t have to be the one to kill you, Donnie. There are plenty of people who want you out of the way. Pete at the Barrhouse Tavern for a start.’ Susie’s voice broke through his thoughts.
Donnie sniggered. ‘Are you pub owners in some sort of weird club where you talk about your problems with each other?’
‘Then there’s your wife too, I suppose. She probably hates you. Although I’m still not convinced that she didn’t know what you were up to. Living with scum like you, she had to know, surely?’
‘Shut your fucking mouth, Susie.’
‘Or what? Oh that’s right, you can’t move, so you’re not going to do anything to keep me quiet, are you?’
Donnie struggled, his hands bound behind his back. If he could just loosen his hands enough to be able to wriggle free, he’d kill Susie on the spot.
‘Not that you ever do any of your killing with your own hands. You always make someone else do that for you. I get it. If I was a man in your position I would do the same. Not getting your hands dirty means keeping out of prison. A man like you wouldn’t last in prison. What is it they say about fake gangsters? Plastic?’
Donnie glared at Susie. ‘So plastic that the polis never found Demi?’
That shut her up. She leaned forward on the seat, tossed the knife in the air and caught it perfectly by the handle, before getting to her feet and rushing at him.
‘You’ve got poison running through your blood, Donnie. We need to get that out.’ She placed the blade on the surface of his right forearm and began to tear at his flesh.
Donnie screamed in pain and jumped so hard the chair flew up, toppled, and he landed on his side.
‘What the fuck is going on here then?’ A voice came from the other side of the basement.
Donnie glanced in the direction of where the voice was coming from.
‘You took your time,’ Susie said, moving away from Donnie.
His arm felt like it was on fire as blood dripped onto the concrete floor.
‘Jesus, Susie. If you kill him, you’ll never find out what happened to Demi.’
It was Cammy McNab’s voice. Donnie watched as he approached and lifted Donnie’s chair back into the upright position.
‘I’m not going to kill him. Not yet, anyway. I will not let him die until he tells me what happened to Demi.’
Gritting his teeth at the realisation that his brother, the boys from the Barrhouse Firm and Susie had come together against him, he swallowed hard. It seemed everyone was against him.
Cammy knelt down in front of Donnie and glared at him, baring his teeth in a sinister, yet somewhat triumphant smile. ‘You’re not quite the gangster you thought you were, eh Donnie?’
‘He won’t say a word about Demi,’ Susie interjected. ‘I can see it in his face. It’s the only control he has left. His fixation with making money from trafficking has lost him a lot of business and respect. His standards have slipped. But he won’t speak about Demi.’
‘Well then,’ Cammy said, ‘we’ll just have to make you speak, won’t we?’ Cammy smirked. Getting to his feet, he produced a blindfold from his back pocket and tied it around Donnie’s head, covering his eyes, but not before showing him a pair of pliers.
‘I’m not fucking scared of you, Cammy. You’re nothing.’
Cammy laughed loudly. ‘You don’t need to be scared of me to make you talk. If I need to bleed the information out of you, then I will.’
Donnie felt the cold metal clamp down on his fingers, and a thick film of sweat formed on his forehead. He’d never been one to show weakness or fear, but at that precise moment he wanted to scream and plead for his life. He was the son of Donald Black, and in his world, showing fear wasn’t something that was thought of, let alone shown. He would have to keep that trait going, so he clamped his mouth shut and prepared himself for the pain.