Chisel Cooney came early. Gareth wasn’t ready, not even a little.
After driving home, his hands shaking the whole way, Gareth had grabbed the two bags, full of his and Tess’s hastily packed clothes, and brought them into the house from the car.
He’d left the bags in the hall and gone to his study, where he knocked back a shot of whiskey to calm his nerves. He barely felt the burn as it passed down his throat. The whiskey warmed his belly, though.
That bastard nearly killed me. And he threatened Tess.
A real man would do something about it, something more than panicking.
Gareth caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. His reflection looked dishevelled and frightened, and he quickly moved away from it.
He played with the empty glass, moving it from one hand to another. Then he stopped and flung the glass at the wall. It shattered into a thousand pieces and filled the air with the smell of whiskey.
Gareth slumped into the chair at his desk and checked his broker’s app, praying under his breath for a miracle. One part of his prayer was answered.
The NASDAQ had reopened after the flash crash. Good. Most stocks had reverted to pre-crash levels. Good. But not SSI.
His stock had tanked even more. And Gareth’s broker had executed his order at the worst possible price.
Gareth had lost a fortune. And this was a fortune of borrowed money.
He felt like crying. He’d been living a pretty good life until his desire to get rich quick had got the better of him. Why hadn’t he been satisfied with that? Who cared if Tess earned more than him? She didn’t mind.
There wasn’t much time until he needed to bring Chisel Cooney his money. He had to do something.
An idea came to him. Shorting SSI.
The company had shown itself to be a terrible investment, whatever his investment guru had written in her stupid newsletter. It kept going down when it should have gone up.
So what if he bet on the company going down?
Gareth jumped to his feet. This could work. It was a desperate all-or-nothing kind of move, but he didn’t have much choice. Though he’d avoided shorting stocks, because of the risks, now might be the time to try it.
Best of all, it was a leveraged bet. If he won, he’d win big. On the other hand, if he lost. No, Gareth couldn’t afford to think about losing.
He placed the order, then poured a generous finger of whiskey into a fresh glass, then paced the study. Every few seconds he checked SSI’s stock price.
And damn if the bastard didn’t start rising.
As soon as Gareth had established his short position, the fucker started climbing to the moon. Up and up and up it shot.
That was when the doorbell chimed. The sound made Gareth’s heart skip a beat.
He remained where he was. When the bell chimed again, he walked down the hall as silently as he could, wondering if he could pretend he wasn’t home. There was little chance of anyone being fooled. The lights were on, and his car was outside. Maybe Gareth had even been followed home.
He opened the door. Chisel Cooney’s goons, the twins, stood on the doorstep. They looked even bigger than the last time. A black SUV was parked across the end of the driveway. Gareth noticed that it was blocking his car.
“Good evening,” said a familiar voice. The twins moved aside as Chisel Cooney came up the steps between them. He had his usual golf club in one hand. The other held a cigarette. Cooney took a leisurely pull on his cigarette, then blew a smoke ring into the night air.
“I was just on my way to meet you,” Gareth said. “I thought I was meant to come to you. I mean, I didn’t think you’d come here. So… so you’re here.”
Realising he was babbling, Gareth shut his mouth.
“What are those?” Cooney jabbed his cigarette at the two travel bags in the hall.
“Nothing.”
Cooney smiled. “You’re not thinking of going anywhere, are you?”
“Not now. They’re for Sunday, maybe? The wife and I might go away for the night.”
“Very nice. You’re ready early. Here it is, only Friday night, and you’ve got your bags packed.” He paused. “Are you going to invite us in?”
“Of course,” Gareth said. “Come in.”
It seemed that Cooney was going to pretend he hadn’t nearly killed Gareth and Gareth would pretend not to have been nearly killed. All very civil.
He stepped back, opened the door wider.
Before entering, Cooney turned and called to another man standing by the gate. Gareth hadn’t noticed him before. He was a lean bespectacled fellow of about forty, wearing a crisp suit, and carrying a briefcase.
Chisel Cooney raised the golf club and pointed. “This is Lorcan, my solicitor.”
“You brought a lawyer?” Gareth couldn’t keep the surprise out of his voice.
“He handles certain transactions for me.”
Cooney stepped past Gareth into the hall. Then came the twins. They both glared at him like they couldn’t wait to get their hands on him. Last was the solicitor, who greeted Gareth by rapidly raising and lowering his eyebrows.
Gareth swallowed, closed the door, and followed the men into his front room.
Cooney sank into the chair by the fireplace, crossing one leg jauntily over the other, and letting the golf club rest against the side of his chair.
The twins stood on either side of him.
Lorcan placed his briefcase on the coffee table. Behind his glasses, the man’s sharp eyes ran around the room.
It was weird and extremely unnerving seeing them here. He hoped Tess stayed at Dee’s house a while longer.
“Come in,” Cooney said. “Sit down. We have much to discuss.”
Gareth realised he was still standing in the doorway. He perched on the edge of the chair farthest from the men.
“How’s work?” Cooney said.
Probably the last question Gareth expected. How was work? Gareth had walked straight out of the school hours ago without a word to anyone. That wasn’t a great sign.
“It’s okay,” Gareth said.
“I’m glad to hear that. You don’t find it stressful, do you?”
“Teaching? No, not really. Normally it’s plain sailing.”
“I’m glad. My line of work is plain sailing too, most of the time.” Cooney took another puff of his cigarette. Tess would have had a heart attack if she knew someone was smoking in her house. “I provide loans. People pay me back. Simple.”
“Sure.”
Cooney blew another smoke ring. “When people are late, or when they refuse to pay, I have to take action. It’s about fairness and respect, right?”
“I suppose, but—”
“One person doesn’t pay me back, the next guy will ask himself why he should. You know what I mean?”
Fear snaked its way across Gareth’s chest, paralysing him.
Cooney said, “I can’t let a slight go unpunished. You’re late and you’re planning to do a runner, and that makes me look bad. Makes me look soft. I can’t afford to look soft.”
“Please don’t hurt me.”
“Like I said, I can’t let a slight go unpunished. But maybe I don’t have to kill you. Do I have to kill you?”
“No, you absolutely don’t. You do not have to kill me. Please don’t.”
“Can you get the money?”
“Take my car,” Gareth said. “The keys are on the table.”
“Of course, I will,” Cooney said. “But that’s not nearly enough. You now owe me €100,000. And I bet you owe other people too. You have a sneaky look about you.”
“I thought I’d have the cash by now but I don’t. I’m sorry. What can I do? I—”
Cooney held up his hand, silencing Gareth.
“I’ll take the house. Everything will be done properly, I can assure you. Lorcan will handle the paperwork. It will be a simple transaction, and we will conclude it swiftly.”
“But you can’t.”
Cooney’s eyes narrowed. “Why not?”
“Because the house isn’t mine,” Gareth explained. “It belongs to Tess.”
Cooney said, “Then we need to talk to her too.”