Connor was on his third set of press-ups when he heard it. He paused, ears straining, scanning for the noise. It was faint, just a background murmur, but distinctive, a crunch-crunch of feet on gravel.
He grabbed his shirt as he made for the door, swung it open noiselessly, then padded up the stairs, pausing at the third step from the top, knowing that going further would put him in the line of sight of whoever was circling his car. He popped his head up briefly, then ducked down. Thought of Jennifer. Her smile. How do you fancy a tour of my place?
He stood up and took the last three stairs casually, feigned surprise when he saw the man pacing around his Audi, casting admiring glances and approving nods as he did so.
‘Morning,’ Connor said.
The stranger froze mid-stride. He was a squat, wide man, the immaculate suit he wore doing nothing to hide his slab-like arms and a gut that looked like fat but would, Connor knew, be like hitting armour plate. Connor had never met him before, but he knew exactly who, and what, he was. He’d met men like him many times. He knew the drill.
‘Nice car,’ the man said, small, hard eyes darting over Connor, assessing. From the subtle straightening of his back and the way he bunched his fists, Connor could tell he saw him as a threat.
‘Thanks,’ Connor said. ‘Gets me where I need to go.’ He paused. Considered. Thought again of Jennifer’s smile. ‘But I’ve got things to do today, so why don’t you tell me why you’re here, Paulie?’
Paulie gave a start, lips pulling back into a snarl as his eyes hardened. ‘How the fuck did you . . .’ he whispered.
Connor waved the question aside. It didn’t take a genius to put it together. Whoever had followed them to the pub last night in a top-of-the-range Merc obviously loved expensive cars, and the look Paulie had given the Audi was almost pornographic. ‘It doesn’t matter. If you’re looking for Jen, she’s not here, so you can tell Daddy dearest that I acted like a gentleman. You’ll understand if I don’t invite you in to check for yourself.’
Paulie hunched his shoulders, marching forward, fists balled. ‘Why, you cheeky little fuck, I ought to . . .’
Connor stepped forward, startling Paulie, who stuttered to a halt. This was a man used to people getting out of his way or running when he approached them. Having someone step towards him did not compute. Connor held up his hands. ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to antagonize,’ he said. ‘But, seriously, she’s not here. And I’m not a threat. Promise. So why don’t you tell your boss that and go have a nice day? Like I said, I’ve got things to do.’
Angry blotches of red peppered Paulie’s forehead. His gaze darted across Connor’s body, not assessing this time. Targeting. ‘Now, listen, shithead,’ he hissed, stabbing at the air in front of him with a chubby, misshapen forefinger. ‘Mr MacKenzie has a message for you. Stay the fuck away from Jennifer. She doesn’t need the likes of you sniffing around.’
Connor was unable to keep the smile off his face. He knew he shouldn’t antagonize the man, found it impossible to resist. ‘Ah, but you’ve got to admit, Paulie, she does wear some nice perfume.’
Paulie lunged forward, fist slashing through the air in a roundhouse blow that was aimed at Connor’s jaw. He pivoted left, stepping into the swing of the punch, close enough now to smell the stale smoke that clung to Paulie like a shroud. He grabbed Paulie’s wrist and kept moving, turning the bigger man’s momentum against him. Paulie was dragged forward, unprepared for the sudden shifting of his weight and Connor adding to the speed of his follow-through. Connor flashed his arm out, slamming Paulie in the chest with an open palm. He staggered back, careening off the bins that were neatly lined up against the wall, before stumbling and crashing to the ground, the impact of the landing forcing his breath, and a stream of expletives, from him.
Paulie beetled around on the ground, legs flailing as he rolled over and came up to a sitting position. His chest heaved, and Connor saw gravel stuck to his cheek. He swiped at it angrily, eyes burning with fury as he glared at Connor. ‘You’re a fucking dead man,’ he whispered, his voice corpse-cold.
Connor placed two fingers to his neck, checking his pulse. ‘Not yet, Paulie. Now how ’bout we leave this, eh? Who Jen sees is her call, not yours or her—’
Paulie exploded forward, showing a fluid grace that belied his bulky frame. His arms were stretched out, his hands grasping for Connor, his entire being consumed by the simple desire to sink his fingers into the man who had humiliated him.
Mistake.
Connor whipped his elbow up, the bone crashing into Paulie’s outstretched hand like a wrecking ball. He felt the crunch of fingers as a cry of pain filled his ears, then dropped low and stabbed a left jab into Paulie’s side, driving the last of the air from his lungs. Paulie collapsed to his knees and slid forward, Connor catching him by the collar before his face slammed into the ground.
Paulie reared to his knees, cradling his ruined left hand close to his chest. He looked up at Connor, tears of pain and outrage shimmering in his eyes. ‘You fucking—’
‘Paulie,’ Connor cut him off, ‘I didn’t ask for this. Now, you can threaten me, come back with some pals and we can do this dance again. Or . . .’ he paused, let everything human drain from his voice ‘. . . you can leave it. Tell Mr MacKenzie I’m no danger. Jen asked me to check the security at her place, and that’s what I’m going to do. Have him look up Sentinel Securities. So leave it, Paulie. Go get in your nice Merc, get yourself fixed up and pretend this didn’t happen.’
Paulie glared up at him, the need to lash out arguing with the pain in his hand. ‘This isn’t the end of it,’ he said finally.
‘Maybe not,’ Connor said, ‘but if I see you again, it will be. I’m sorry I hurt your hand, but you’re a big boy, you know how these things go. So call it a draw, and be on your way.’
Paulie rose slowly to his feet, looked down at his once-immaculate suit. It seemed to fit him better now, as though rumpled after a tussle was more his style. He backed away slowly, keeping eye contact with Connor. Then he turned and stalked off, muttering under his breath.
Connor watched him go, the cloying, copper aftertaste of adrenalin congealing at the back of his throat. He spat once and shook his head, angry with himself. He shouldn’t have antagonized Paulie, should have found a way to defuse the situation, avoid a confrontation. No doubt Jen’s father would hear about what had happened. Would he send others to avenge Paulie’s injuries? Or take the message and leave him alone?
Connor sighed and headed back to the flat. So much for the quiet life.