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Rachel clutched her mug in instinctive horror. "The Cullens are behind this? Look, you know I had nothing to do with it, right? Oh God, is that why you brought me here?"
Complete and utter terror. From a girl I'd known forever. I don't feel shame often, but her reaction was a knife in the gut. "Rachel, love. I'd never hurt you. I couldn't. Never."
"Right. Yes. Of course." But she could not hide the shuddering breath. "Sorry. I didn't mean it."
But she did. That fear had come straight from the heart. And I'd put it there. I had created that terror on purpose. I had made everyone in Ringmere understand that pissing me off would result in immediate, lethal retaliation. I'd done it to protect us, but it mortified me.
To avoid Rachel's horror, I studied the agreement. The development consisted of a hotel complex linked to an indoor water park that would be heated in winter-which in England meant every month save for July and August.
The plan would draw in bags of visitors. Ever since Brexit, the thirst for local tourism had matured. This would bring in families from all over. If the restaurants and added amenities were up to scratch, it would bring in continental visitors as well.
Checking out the detailed plans for the giant indoor water slides and surf pools, I knew I was looking at a winner. This would put Ringmere on the map. The project would bring millions into the town from the second the first spade hit the dirt. The construction alone would bring in jobs and extra money. Then we'd sit back and coin it.
From the letters, there were two proposed sites. One put the lot right next to the Cullen casino and marina. The other placed it in Sunnyside, an ironic name considering it was a rundown area at the edge of Ringmere. I vaguely remembered half a dozen derelict factories backing up to the railway line.
The committee initially favoured the coastal plot, thinking that they could piggyback on the infrastructure supporting the Majestic. But recent letters pointed out that while Sunnyside was less convenient and more expensive, they'd get grants to rehabilitate the area. Also, as it ran by railway, it would take minimum investment to add in an extra stop that would pull in rail visitors.
Either way, if the project came off, DeVere would gain a directorship and a cool fifteen mil in shares. It was barely legal but with nifty paperwork, he'd rake it in, no problem. If. The development was not a done deal. The committee liked Ringmere, but they also had an eye on a place in Kent.
DeVere's panic about Ringmere's reputation crystallised. A squeaky-clean image meant lots of lovely lucre for him. The money would set him up for life. As for the prestige, pulling in a project of this size would give the mayor a push up the political ladder, perhaps within reach of Downing Street. The blackmail and the murder put it all in jeopardy. If it went pear-shaped, the investors would whip away the entire project.
The stash of blackmail photos showed DeVere played rough. He had plotted to ensure he would be mayor and in position to rake off the commission. My bet was that Menzies had been clueless about this plum. And if DeVere's volunteer had not stepped up and done his dirty work, the mayor would have crushed Menzies, claiming to do so because of his white hat, but truly because he was determined to have a shot at the money.
DeVere was a nasty piece of work, fully capable of double dealing. But would he kill?
Rachel was pulling herself together. "Y-you think Alex might have blackmailed Lucian and had Mandy killed? But how would he do that? Is that why you're back?"
The hit was well-deserved. "I'm out of the family business."
The flush came with complete mortification. "Oh hell, sorry, Max."
"No worries, love. Grimstead thought the same."
She put a hand on my knee instantly, proclaiming, "I didn't mean it. You're not like that."
"Yes, I am."
"No, you're not." Rachel's chin was up. "You're a hard man, but you don't hurt people for fun. And also, you keep your word, you don't cheat, and you are a loyal friend."
Also, a killer with too many bodies piled up in the past. But I let it be. "Thanks, love."
She changed the subject. "Do you really think Alex is behind this?"
My cousin would blow away anyone who stood between him and success. There was no doubt in my mind. None. But the blackmail setup lacked finesse. Also, I couldn't figure out why Alex would bother killing Mandy. If he'd been behind it, he would have placed the cameras himself, not messed about with third parties.
But Tank had kept lousy records, and a poker player had gone AWOL on an outstanding debt. A very nasty thought popped up: without my help, maybe Alex had fucked up.
Aware of Rachel's nervous gaze, I pushed for balance. "I'm keeping an open mind. Alex has form, but DeVere is a strong candidate. He stands to win a fortune, and he's not shy about collecting blackmail material. He's also devious enough to kill Mandy and to use me to cover it up."
Rachel was wide-eyed. "Lucian? Really?"
"Money is a serious motivator. DeVere is a player."
"And your family wouldn't like a fancy resort threatening the Cullen revenue stream," Rachel whispered. "Who else is up for it?"
I ran a finger over the map. "Alex said the Razors have invested heavily in property. They may have an interest too."
"Bloody hell, Max. Maybe I should go on a very long holiday."
"Perhaps. But first, tell me about DeVere."
'He's a shit, totally charming one moment, and complete ice the next," Rachel grumped. "And as slippery as a bucket of eels. He's quick to take credit, but you'll never pin him to a failure of any kind."
"Sounds like a successful politician."
"I don't think he'd kill," Rachel mused. "But then again, that fifteen million is what's going to get him to his goal."
"Which is?"
"Prime Minister." She didn't hesitate. "In public, he's all about wanting to be in Ringmere for life, but he let his guard down once. He's got it all plotted out."
I remembered he'd let slip he'd been careful, even when a kid at school. "Think he can do it?"
"Maybe." Rachel sat back, cradled her wrist cast and filled me in. "The DeVeres made their fortune during the Restoration. They were hot when the Stuarts were on the throne and did pretty much okay right until the Great War. That's when the family fortune took a dive."
"Good blood, no cash?"
"Exactly. Lucian has the pedigree and Lara the cash." Rachel grinned wickedly. "Lara is new money. Her grandfather made his fortune in condiments."
"You're kidding."
"Nope. Their factory supplies mustard, pickles, and ketchup to the armed forces. They made a fortune during the Falklands and again when the Gulf War kicked off. Pilgrim Plaskett bought his peerage after Operation Desert Fox."
I put it all together. "DeVere has it all, then. He could make Prime Minister on connections and his wife's money, but the fifteen mil would make it a near cert." The prize was important enough to kill for. DeVere was solidly on my list.
"Lucian has a nasty streak." Rachel frowned. "Remember how he scuppered Marge Belson's campaign?"
"Who?"
"Sorry, I keep forgetting you were away," Rachel apologised. "Marge Belson is one of the woolly hat brigade. You know, save our footpaths, save our woods, and always collecting for the Cats Protection Society."
"The library needed saving?"
"It had a leaky roof. Lucian proposed it be sold and the money put into a new building. Marge ran a campaign to stop him. She got quite a lot of signatures, but then this video of her smacking a cat with a broom came out."
"That won't have gone down well."
"Total pile-on," Rachel sighed. "She was using the broom to separate two fighting cats. But the way they edited it made it look like animal abuse. It was a stitch-up."
"DeVere sold the library?"
"Yes. And I just realised that the new library never opened." Rachel frowned. "Why didn't I realise that?"
"DeVere leaked the cat video?"
"Oh, no!" Rachel said instantly. "It was a viral TikTok at first, but then people tagged the council, demanding they arrest Marge. Lucian said he'd investigate, but only to appease the public. Privately, he thought it was dodgy because nobody stepped up to say they took the video."
"He said all that, did he?"
Rachel bit her lip. "I never thought. Oh Max, I was utterly taken in. It's just what the mean girls do at school. They invent something and when you deny it, they fan the flames by blabbing fake support. Why didn't I see that?"
"Because you're a nice girl." It just came out, but I meant it. Only bastards like me look below the surface. Good people don't assume the worst.
But Rachel was kicking herself. "He made the video?"
"Maybe. Or maybe not. But he sure used it to destroy Marge Belson."
"I should have known. I mean, he cheats on his wife."
"Hmmm."
"I know. I'm a twit," Rachel sighed.
"You turn down married men all the time. What did he say?"
Rachel blushed. "You're the only person to ask that. Everyone else assumes I'm a slut."
"You just cam. It's different," I deadpanned.
That earned me a smile, but her embarrassment was visible. "He said Lara discovered she is gay."
"That's a new one."
"Right. But it made sense. Lucian said that Lara always had crushes, but never really dared explore. Then when the kids went to college, she found herself."
It sounded like a soap opera to me, but I wouldn't hurt Rachel by saying so.
She gave me the evil eye anyway, reading me easily. "It's not as daft as it sounds. Lara's dad is a religious nut and well-known homophobe. Also, Lara's been off on three trips alone this year. With a so-called old friend from school."
I vaguely remembered Lord Plaskett pontificating on the news. "Is her father the one who rants about gay priests and women ruining the church?"
"That's him," Rachel nodded. "Pilgrim Plaskett, they call him."
"He's a nasty piece of work."
"Exactly. So you see why Lucian said he and Lara planned to divorce at the end of next year, once Lucian is well settled into his job, I believed him."
It was clever. The story hung together well enough to explain why the mayor was catting about. After the summer fling, DeVere could just claim that his wife had come back to him. And if Rachel complained, DeVere would say she was trying it on. Few people would believe a cam girl over a mayor. Poor Rachel, he really had fucked her.
"I'm a twit," Rachel sighed. "I didn't think he'd marry me, but I thought we had something. But to him, I was just a hook-up."
"He's a dickhead. You deserve better."
Her chin came up. "Damn right, I do!"
The blush had vanished, and she looked drawn again. It was almost four. Alex would be in his office. I got up and collected the plates. "Feet up, love. You're spending the rest of the day on the sofa, watching telly. I'll bring supper, and you get my room tonight."
"But Max!"
"No arguing." I got my blanket and tucked it around her. "You need rest."
"Yes, mum." But she took my hand and squeezed it. "Thanks, Max. You're the best."
"A pure living saint, that's me. If you need anything, Quentin will be downstairs. Just bang on the floor."
When I popped down to the pub, Quentin was pouring himself a Cullen Bitter. "Want one?"
"Perhaps later. You alone today?"
"Duchess is meeting with Sunshine Tours, so I came in a bit early."
From the sprinkling of tourists already nursing pints, trade was brisk. Mum would need a hand. "You still good with the arrangement, Quentin?"
"Definitely. I like the change of pace." He took a sip of his beer and grinned. "How's your hunt going?"
"Interesting." I was about to update him, when a trim figure moved swiftly across the street, making for the Lion and Unicorn. Donovan had bounced back and was determined to dog me. "Hell."
"Hello, I was in the neighbourhood. Thought I'd drop in." The sheer determination and fake upbeat tone made him invaluable to his boss, but I longed to belt him. Donovan saw I was pissed off but kept going. "So, how's the young woman? Recovering, I hope."
So that's why he'd come running. "Terrific. She's filling me in on all kinds of details."
Donovan fought back. "That kind will have a lot of salacious stories."
Quentin gripped my arm and trod on my foot for good measure. "Libel is never a good look."
"Slander," Donovan corrected him without thinking. "And truth is an absolute defence."
I played my ace. "The truth didn't help Marge Belson."
Donovan's eyes flickered. "Who? Oh, the crazy cat lady."
"Someone sabotaged her by sending a faked-up abuse video to the council."
Donovan paused, considering the best reply. "Lucian had nothing to do with that."
"But you did."
"No way." But Donovan blinked. And then that very telling, almost imperceptible pause again. "That woman is a nut. She's always wailing about conspiracies."
"It's not paranoia, is it? She was the target of a smear campaign. Just like Menzies."
"There's no proof of that." This time, Donovan spoke up right away.
Quentin blinked as understanding hit him. "You set up Marge? You bastard! And when Douggie Coulton spoke up for her, was it you who leaked his nudes?"
Donovan snapped back instantly. "That started on Twitter. His ex posted a drunken rant, and it took off from there."
"And you fanned the flames."
Donovan shrugged. "He's only got himself to blame. If you send nudes, someone will leak them."
"Hypocrite," Quentin sneered. "DeVere dips his wick left, right and centre."
"As do you, sunshine."
"Sure, but I don't go about pretending I'm a paragon of virtue."
I got them back on track. "Menzies was hardly a saint."
Donovan didn't bite. "Doesn't matter, does it? He couldn't take the heat, so he's out. He won't even make it as counsellor."
"Marge Belson and then Menzies. DeVere must pay you well."
"You've an overactive imagination. I simply advise Lucian. It's nothing to do with him or me when others fuck up." And without another word, Donovan turned on his heel and marched out.
"Slimy git," Quentin shuddered. "Politics is a filthy business."
"Money and power always invite sharks."
"He definitely sabotaged Marge," Quentin decided. "Her library campaign was going great until that video came out."
"Yes. I'm sure he was behind it."
"Coulton's ex spilled on Twitter," Quentin mused. "But now I'm wondering who got her drunk."
A thought that had not occurred to me. "Exceptional twisty thinking."
Quentin rolled his eyes. "You're welcome. Think DeVere is pulling the strings or is his advisor acting like a political hitman on his own steam?"
"Good question."
We pondered silently.
"There's no knowing," Quentin decided. "You'll have to get more information."
"Right."
"How is Rachel? Isn't she being discharged today?"
"Yes, she's upstairs."
Quentin grinned slyly. "I thought I heard voices."
"She's only staying while Tank fixes up her windows and the makeover people give the place a spruce up." It sounded defensive, even to my own ears. "She doesn't have family."
"And you've always had a soft spot for her. Or rather, a solid concern."
"Wanker."
I left him laughing and went to see Alex. As expected, I found him in his office, a plush executive suite on the twenty-fifth floor of the Majestic.
"Trigger," he hugged me immediately. "Lucian called to complain about the black eye you gave him. Donovan says you're a cheeky fuck, and my sources tell me that Grimstead is raging."
"Right. I thought I'd complete my day by accusing you of murder."
Alex didn't blink. "Me, kill little Mandy Owens? Why would I do that?"
"The Splash City Water Park development."
Alex sat down and leaned back, fingers steepled. "I'm dead keen on it. Not as much as Lucian, but it will bring in an extra twenty thousand visitors for the holiday season."
"Not to us."
"Us, huh?" Alex chuckled.
"You know what I mean."
"I do, and if you were to engage your brain instead of your fists, you'd realise that a good percentage of those extras would pop in here for an hour at the roulette wheel. Even more will visit our restaurants."
"You're in favour?"
"Damn right I am. Creaming a few quid per head adds up to thousands a month," Alex confided. "Why do you think the Disciples were here?"
Not a casual ride through. "I almost got beaten to death because of your biker pals?"
Alex grinned. "I reached out to Crush, their president, and Rex, their accountant, as soon as I heard about the development. They came to check out Ringmere because they're keen on a liaison. We only talked a few minutes, we've not made any firm commitments yet, and I didn't know they planned to stop by the Spinnaker on the way home."
"You're legit. Do you really want to work with the country's most notorious biker gang?"
"Fuck yes, Rex Winslow has a gift for making money." Alex slavered at the thought of working with a fellow Midas. "We can work on joint promotions for the Winslow Cup and the Cullen Regatta. And when the Splash City Water Park opens, we have even more options. A three-way promo will net us a fortune."
Follow the money. "What if the water park people opt for Sunnyside?"
"Even better," Alex didn't hesitate. "We own two of the old factories. The second they sign on the dotted line, we'll be there, pouring our own foundation and building a hotel with a mini casino. We'll run a free minibus from here to that water park every hour for our guests, too. It will attract families who want to make the kids happy while the adults have a little flutter in the evenings."
Win-win all the way. It's why Alex is the best. "Will the Razors feel the same way?"
"I'm off the hook, huh?" Alex wasn't bothered in the slightest. "They have some investments in town that will do well either way. Whether they have a preference is anyone's guess."
"Come on, Alex. You must know what they're plotting."
Alex got to his feet, looking out of the window at the sparkling ocean and the marina below. "Trigger, you've been away three years."
The last time we'd been here together, I had ended a war. And changed us all forever.
Alex turned around and sighed. "Jesus, Max. The things we've done."
"They started it. We told them to walk away."
"Absolutely, no doubt about it. But I just realised what you did for us."
From his expression, he wasn't referring to the body count.
"Do you know what I do all day?" Alex gestured to his desk. "Cashflow, reports, plans for regattas, races, and endless hiring and managing of people."
"Right, there's a lot of business."
"No kneecapping, no avoiding the National Crime Squad, and no playing cat and mouse with the Knights, Bridgeton Mob, Razors or anyone else. This is why I have nobody to fix that AWOL high roller for me!"
Alex sounded so disgusted that I had to laugh. "Still plenty of hookers and blow, though."
"Yeah, and strictly between the two of us, there may be some whiskey and beer escaping taxes and duties."
"You're legit."
"Mostly. The thing is, we've been able to focus on business because you destroyed everyone who stood against us."
Totally true. It's why I'd done it.
"It's changing again," Alex continued.
"The Razors and their cartel cocaine."
"Exactly. The Razors are rapidly buying up Ringmere. They own property in Sunnyside, along the coast, and downtown. When the Splash City Water Park development kicks off, we're going to be at each other's throats. I can fight them commercially, no problem, but if they decide to play dirty, we're screwed."
Tank's files flashed into mind.
Alex was right with me, the mind reader. "Tank is a good man, but he doesn't have the flair for security that you do."
I knew how that would go. Within weeks, I'd be beating the fuck out of some poor bastard, if not worse. "Don't ask me, cousin. Please."
"All right. But you know the score." Alex threw the connection right back at me. "Remember cousin, we Cullens sink or swim together."
"Hire the Disciples. From what I hear, they're ace at sorting trouble."
"And starting it. No thanks," Alex said. "You'll do what's right, Trigger. You always do."
"Fuck off."
But Alex just gave me the finger, blatantly determined I'd be back.
After that, I scoped out the other credible option. The Razors were vicious, and I had no problem visualising Jaffa setting up the sting and killing Mandy. But getting him and his mates to talk to me would not be easy. Even before I broke Jaffa's arm, there had been bad blood between me and the Razors.
Masher had an office in the Spinnaker and lived in the flat above it. As the sun was going down, I'd probably find him having a pint in the pub.
By the time I crossed town again, all the shops were closed, but there were bikes and cars parked in front of the pub. From the new door and windows, and the various black eyes, the Disciples had not held back. Inside, two splintered tables and a wrecked barstool were still piled up against the wall.
Jaffa wasn't there, nor did I recognise any of the crew. But the cautious way the bartender eyed me up, he recognised me. "I'm looking for Masher."
"He's not here." But he picked up his phone. "Wait." And I heard his murmur, "Trigger Cullen just walked in. Alone."
At that, there was murmuring and some chest puffing.
"That's the fucker who broke Jaffa's arm."
"Bloody cheek, walking in here."
I eyeballed them, noting they looked away. There'd be no trouble here. But a whisper told me to be grateful it wasn't later. With some Dutch courage, this lot might have a go. And as I'm not Superman, a dozen against one would not be healthy.
"Masher says to go to his place." The bartender was back. "Around the corner, three doors down, second floor."
Around the corner led to a quiet lane. It was typical Ringmere: plain Victorian sandstone terraced houses with iron gates, postage stamp garden, and a wide stoop at the entrance outside, plus four floors of flats with sash and canted bay windows, topped off with a pointed roof.
There was a modern lift installed, but I took the stairs. Travelling up in a closed box, at the mercy of anyone standing outside, is a risk I avoid.
Moving up, I noted the unobtrusive CCTV in the stairwell. The bald, tattooed bruiser hanging out on the first floor was less discreet. He loomed a bit and cracked his knuckles, but moved out of my way.
Finally, on the second floor, Masher stood waiting. "Trigger, never expected to see you here."
"Great place you have here." He had opened the door himself, a sign of respect, and I was paying back. But when he stepped back, and I walked in, I couldn't help but exclaim. "Hey, this is fantastic!"
Masher had kept the railings, and the understated entrance outside but had knocked down the inner walls and connected the second, third and fourth floors. The result was an open-plan sweep of property with high ceilings and hardwood floors.
"It's glorious. Love the blood-red walls and the Axminster rug."
Masher grinned. "Yeah, I've always wanted to say, I love the stained glass in the Lion and Unicorn. A genuine work of art."
Not exactly how I'd envisioned our conversation, but I went with it. "You'll know why I'm here."
"The little tart that what got herself killed," Masher replied instantly. "DeVere has his knickers in a proper twist about that."
"Exactly. I walked in on it and I'm interested in sorting out the party responsible."
Masher grinned. "The fucker had better run then."
"Is that fucker one of your people?"
Masher roared with laughter. "Jesus, Trigger. You have some balls."
There wasn't an iota of guilt, but with Masher there wouldn't be. The scar running down his face, the spiderweb tats on his arms, and loutish attitude were a mask. This man was as astute and devious as Alex.
As a man of business, the best way forward was transparency. "Mandy had a blackmail scheme going."
"Did she now?" Masher frowned. "Bloody hell, was it her who was trying on DeVere?"
"Looks like it. My guess is that she had a partner."
He blinked rapidly. "Menzies? Out for revenge? Turning the tables on DeVere for tanking his political career?"
"That was my first thought. But Menzies is out. The man's a wreck, incapable of coordinating his wardrobe, never mind a blackmail scheme."
Masher nodded. "I heard they tucked him in the loony bin." The blinking resumed. "It's not DeVere, he doesn't want trouble." The blinking stopped. "Think it's your cousin?"
The bugger had put it together. He'd not mentioned the development, but it was crystal that he knew.
"Alex doesn't want trouble either, it's bad for business." Masher continued needling. "Now Mandy's gone, there's no more threat of scandal. The Cullen machine rolls on, making money."
"You're doing well on that front." I pushed back. "The cartel is making you rich."
Masher grinned, but kept his trap shut.
There was no point in messing about. "Mandy's blackmail scheme threatened the Splash City Water Park development. Fifteen mil to DeVere. And from what I hear, you own property all over. When they build, there's a tidy sum coming to you."
Masher leaned back, drawling, "You work quick, Trigger. I always admired that about you."
"You'll find yourself pushing up daisies if it was you."
"Leave him alone!" A very familiar glam blonde shot into the room, pulling up protectively in front of Masher. "Who do you think you are, coming here and making threats?"
Of all the things I'd expected to find in Masher's flat, none had included Lara DeVere. Yet there she was, all that willowy classy elegance quivering with rage.
Masher burst out laughing again. "Bet you weren't expecting this, huh, Trigger?" He scooped Lara into his lap, murmuring, "Don't fuss, love. He's just mouthing off."
"He has no right." But the heavenly eyes narrowed as she inspected me again. "Have we met?"
"You know my mother, Cecilia Cullen. From the Lion and Unicorn."
Her face brightened. "Of course I know Duchess Cullen. The Lion and Unicorn is a great pub."
I would have gotten away with it, but Masher twigged. He wagged a finger. "You been snooping, Trigger."
"Snooping? Hey!" Lara's eyes popped. "The delivery man. You were at the house this morning."
This wasn't going the way I hoped.
"He's a slippery bastard," Masher told her. "Bet he was rifling through Lucian's files."
Shit.
"I don't care," Lara shrugged.
"No, love, don't be like that. We both want Lucian to do well."
My turn to reset. Masher ran Lara and Lara ran DeVere. As matters stood now, DeVere needed to keep Lara and her money sweet, at least until he got the payoff from the Splash City Water Park development. Once he got it, he could write his own ticket.
Lara would take a nice slice from him during the divorce. Also, she had the inside track on how DeVere planned to vote. Working together, Lara and Masher would come out of this with a sweet fortune.
"Bingo." Masher winked at me. "See? I didn't need to blackmail DeVere. I've got him exactly where I want him."
"The happy marriage is a front."
Lara made a mouth and kept silent, but Masher glared. "DeVere can't keep it zipped. If it's not secretaries, it's cam girls. Why should she put up with disrespect?"
"No reason at all."
Lara hugged Masher. "Don't get so het up, darling. Who cares what other people think?"
"I'm not having anyone diss you."
Masher had fallen hook, line and sinker. And with the two of them here, and talking openly, I dug for intel. "You have invested in downtown properties, so you'll push for Sunnyside."
Masher shrugged. "My primary interest is to get more money into Ringmere. I don't really care where they set up, as long as they come here, it's all good."
Because more visitors meant more coke deals.
Lara smirked. "Masher is quite the property mogul."
Masher didn't argue. "Trigger will discover that for himself when he checks the land office records tomorrow."
I'd struck out again. Menzies, Alex, and Masher were out of the picture.
Lara leaned back and wriggled happily on Masher's lap. Funnily enough, the pearls and twinset blended in fine with the thuggish tattoos. These two were more than casual lovers; there was a solid connection.
My work was going nowhere. But as I had Lara DeVere in front of me, I asked. "Think Lucian bumped Mandy off?"
"Absolutely not." She didn't hesitate. "When Grimstead called, he cursed a blue streak."
"Does the mayor get a heads-up on every crime in town?"
"He does when it involves one of his sluts," Lara replied calmly. "When Grimstead rang, Lucian thought Rachel Fox got hers too. He practically wet himself, thinking the affair would come out in the papers."
"I told her it was no problem." Masher ran a hand over Lara's hair. "Boris shags everything in sight and they still voted for him. All Lucian has to do is change his image."
"Exactly," Lara nodded. "When he does, Daddy will hit the roof."
From the secret glint in her eyes, she was enjoying the thought. My guess was that she would quietly stick in the knife about her own affair, too. The woman had daddy issues.
Lara was disinterested in her husband's business, but she understood him. "Lucian put on his holy act because Daddy liked it. But he will change his tune once he gets his independence."
"He aims to be prime minister one day."
Lara shrugged. "Lucian is a born sneak. He'll oil his way to the top, using blackmail to destroy the cowards who stand in his way and flattery everywhere else. But he's no killer."
"For fifteen million anyone might turn to murder."
Lara shook her head. "Lucian would never leave himself open to blackmail. If he killed, he would do it himself. And when Mandy was being murdered, Lucian was upstairs in his office, doing paperwork."
"Are you certain?"
"Absolutely. I was doing the washing up when the call came. There is simply no way that Lucian could have done it. And from the way he raged, he was jolly cross with whoever killed her."
Terrific. I was out of likely suspects.
Masher grinned. "Well, I never. Trigger Cullen is stumped."
Lara gazed up at me. "Why are you so interested? Mandy Owens was a blackmailing scrubber. Nobody will miss her."
I got to my feet. "Look in the mirror, love. You're married to a man who blackmails his way to success and fucking another who deals blow to kids."
Masher bounced to his feet, roaring, "You disrespectful fuck, Trigger Cullen! I'll have you!"
We might have gone at it but for Lara hanging on to Masher's arm and drawling, "Leave him be." The eyes lengthened and sparkled with amusement. "After all, he's spot on."
"Nobody talks to you that way."
She smiled. "Come now, Masher. You, me and Cullen, we're birds of a feather." She winked at me. "That's why Trigger is so pissed off. Seeing us is like looking in the mirror."
She was a cool customer with a wide streak of bitch, but she was dead straight. "I apologise. I'm the last person on earth to judge others. I'll be on my way."
"By the frigging window." But Masher's growl came out of pure habit. He wanted a barny even less than I did. That's why he headed up the Razors; Masher was a hot-tempered bugger, but he used violence as a tool. Not a man to make a mistake out of temper.
"Again, great flat, Masher."
I made my way out, barrelled down the stairs, and was through the iron gates before it hit me that night had fallen. That was fine, but the knucklehead had vanished from his post and the streetlight was out. All at once, the hair stood up in the back of my neck.
A soft whisper of sound behind me.
"There he is."
"Get him!"
As I weaved and ducked, the blow from behind missed my head by a whisker. The bloke to my left did his best, but his cricket bat caught my jacket and missed my ribs. Unfortunately, his mate on the other side got me solidly on the arm. It hurt like fuck.
I kicked back, intent on clearing some space behind me. My boot connected solidly.
"Fuck! Bash him. Art!"
Three of them. All carrying cricket bats. And this time, I didn't have a backpack to protect me.
What I had, was attitude.
I ducked again, feinted left, and broke right. The swing aimed at my head went wide, but the other two hit me solidly in the ribs. The blows had me suck in my breath, but I kept my head and grabbed at the wood. The willow was well oiled, sliding out of my hand.
As it clattered to the ground, the hoodie slid back. It was the bald nutsack from the stairwell, growling, "I'll have you." Too fly to pick up the bat, he kicked it away. "Right in the liver."
A razor is a fearsome weapon. This man wasn't afraid of wielding it, either. As I dodged, the steel missed my gut.
"Back him into a corner!"
No fucking way. I powered up and barged straight into the smaller of the two cricket bats. It earned me two more whacks, but I got in close enough to punch him in the face. I got him good, smashing the thin blade of a nose in a satisfying splat.
He went flying, but his friends were still standing. I dodged wood and steel. Whack-slice-whack-slice.
The razor was the chief danger. It cut into my jacket, but missed my vitals. The bat hit home every fucking time. In a fight, the blows register, but the pain takes a while to build up. I had to be quick; pretty soon I'd find it hard to breathe.
"Holy fuck, he's not going down!"
Good. It gave me a zing. Kicking sideways at one and rushing at the other, got me a bat. The third man was getting up. A slug to the jaw put him back down. Two to one, and the one with the bat wavered. Now it would go my way. The nutsack swiped at me with his blade, but with the bat and my reach, I'd make it.
The weaker one first; nutsack second. I swung hard and got in a nice elbow slam.
"Hey, what the fuck?"
"Quick! Get him!"
A beam of light cut through the dark, lighting up four more hoodies piling out of the Spinnaker. Reinforcements, and at the worst of times.
But the light came courtesy of a minivan speeding up the street. I swung the bat in front of me, clearing space, dashed across the road and leaped.
If it had gone wrong, I would have bounced off and they would have had me. Thankfully, the gamble paid off. In the dark, my fingers gripped a sturdy roof rack.
The poor sod of a driver panicked. As far as he knew, he was driving down the street, minding his own business, when a shadow flitted out of a side street. Hearing the thump of my body hit the metal, he put his foot down instinctively. Luckily for me, he hit the accelerator instead of the brake.
We raced up the lane and into the high street, barrelling along at a fair lick. I clung on, curling my legs high and keeping out of trouble. The second he got it together and hit the brakes, I was ready to go. He came to a halt outside the little park. I was on my feet and in among trees before he had the door open.
"What the hell? Hey, are you okay?" The cry faded behind me as I angled automatically, leaving trouble behind me and heading for safe haven.