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For a second I freeze. I’m not expecting anybody. I’m in the country and never in the whole time I have lived here has anybody visited at this time of the night. As impossible as it seems it has to be Tony’s men. How could he have found me so quickly? Then I remember the teenagers. The way they watched us. It would be so easy for a man who has access to law enforcement databases to trace my car. When I hear car doors shut quietly, I snap out of my disbelief. There is more than one of them. Three. My hand moves towards the switch on my desk table. I snap it off.
Then, I’m out of my chair and streaking across the room. I grab the bat that usually lies collecting dust on the counter and go out to the living room. Not making a sound, I move towards the doorway.
I hear their voices. They’re already outside the front door. I position myself to the right of the door when I hear a rough voice say, “Just kick the fucking door in already!”
“Forget that door. It’s solid. Come around here,” another voice says closer to the French doors at the side of the house. In a flash, I run over to the French doors.
Bang!
The door flies open. I raise the bat over my shoulder and wait. As one of the men passes through I swing it as hard as I can at head height. The sound of wood cracking against a skull echoes through the high-ceilinged entryway. A brutish looking thug drops like a sack of potatoes in the open doorway.
“What the fuck?” Two other men stumble over the body but manage to stay on their feet. They don’t know yet, but they’re in trouble—deep trouble. One of them holds a knife and the other holds a machete. In a split second my brain has made a note of the fact that the knife and machete are dripping with blood.
Whose blood?
I need to get them before they get me. Instinct and the desire to survive take over. The machete is my biggest threat, so I turn to him first.
His crooked smile widens as he raises his arms, and the moonlight filtering in through the open doorway glints off the metal. He is a big guy. Strong, but clumsy. Instead of trying to attack his arms, I go low. A good blow across his kneecaps makes him howl in pain. I’m fairly sure I heard a bone shatter. At least one of his knees crushed from the blow.
“Fuck! You fucking broke my knees,” he screams, curling into a ball.
Now the knife and the gorilla holding it. He glances at his mate, then back at me. There is fear in his eyes. He hadn’t expected me to be so effective with just a bat. With a roar he lunges at me with the knife pointed at my stomach. A quick sidestep and a back kick knocks him off-balance. He mutters a curse before I whip a brisk blow straight to his balls.
He bellows, his eyes bulging, but no sound comes out of his mouth. I watch the veins of his neck pop as he drops like a stone. The knife skitters across the floor as he cups his privates, shrieking silently in agony while his friend with the busted knee is screaming abuse at me.
I make quick work of kicking their weapons out of their reach. Better to be safe than sorry. The car sitting outside is a Range Rover. I go out and have a look—the keys are still in the ignition for a fast getaway. I start the engine, then go back in the house.
“Come on you lot,” I grunt, dragging them one by one to the car.
They’re in too much pain to fight me as I push them inside—the one I hit across the side of the head is still totally out of it. I throw him across the back seat and slam the door shut.
The other two look like they’re in such pain, they’d rather be dead. I can only imagine, especially the one whose balls I turned to jelly. He deserved a lot worse than that, coming at me with a knife. I lean on the car and tap the driver’s window until Jelly Balls rolls it down. “Make no mistake,” I snarl, glaring at them. “If you come back here, I’ll kill you next time. Tell Tony he got off easy.”
Mr. Broken Kneecaps looks up at me, his face twisted with pain. “I wouldn’t be so smug if I were you. You have no idea what you are dealing with. Tony will never stop until you return his woman.”
“He’ll burn in hell before that happens,” I growl.
The car speeds off, tires crunching over the gravel. When they are about twenty yards he hangs his head out of the window and shouts, “Left a surprise for you at the stables.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Tyson
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NrIL-0AtDY4
Now we are free
A cold wind blows as I turn my head towards the stables, five hundred yards away. The stable doors are open. Oh God!
The blood on the machete!
I start running. Running so hard I feel the rush of wind bite into my face. I stand at the threshold of the stables panting hard. I can already smell the fear and sweet smell of blood. I step into it. In disbelief. This cannot be happening. No way. Even as I turn my head to look in the first stall I refuse to believe it. Not animals. Not such beautiful, blameless animals.
Rubina lies dead in the first stall.
“No, no, no,” I mutter, running to the next stall. Jenny’s blood is slowly collecting in a thick pool of dark liquid under her head.
I turn to the next stall, horrified, unable to think, speak, rationalize.
Who would do this?
The monsters.
The unspeakable monsters!
Khan lies on his side. His eyes are open and his breath is labored, but he is not dead. His neck has been ripped open, the flesh raw and pink. He looks at me with his big shocked eyes. I rush to him and fall to my haunches. I cup my palms on either side of his face. My whole body is shaking with fury.
He makes a grunting sound of terrible pain.
“Shhhh … It’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here now,” I say as I twist my hand hard. I hear his neck breaking. The life goes out of my friend instantly. His eyes stare vacantly. There is no more pain.
I stand up and walk to the next stall. Matilda, whom I have loved for the last eight years is dead. With my bare hands I break Riley’s neck. Then I go to Fey’s stall. I kept her for last because I didn’t want to see the destruction. Fey was pregnant. She was due to foal any day now. I take a deep breath and turn the corner.
Fey is lying very still on her side in a pool of blood, but a single straw next to her nose is moving gently. I rush to her side and drop to my knees next to her. Her eyes are glazed with shock. There is no recognition in them. She is almost gone. I kiss her face and whisper in her ear, “I love you. Hang on, I’ll save the little un for you.”
I run back to the house. Panting hard, I go to the kitchen and pull out the sharp meat knife from the wooden block. I grab rags from the cupboard. Then I sprint back to Fey’s stall.
“You did very well, Fey. Very well. I’m so proud of you,” I whisper before I break her neck.
As soon as I hear the crack I place the knife at the top of her belly and I slice her all the way down her underside. Hot blood pours out over my hands. I reach into her steaming organs and pull her womb out. I cut the sac and free the baby. I pull it out and it lies on the ground pale and still. Refusing to come to this cruel earth that took its mother away before it was even born.
Gently, I massage its limbs. “Come on, baby. Come on,” I plead to the tiny thing.
God knows how long I gently massage it, but finally I have to give up. I throw my head back and roar with fury. I look down at the still animal and I know rage like I have never known in my life. It is like a ball of fire in my belly. I will hunt every one of those men and I will rip their hearts out of their chests. They don’t deserve to live. They killed my horses. These blameless beautiful animals. I stand up and turn away.
As I take the first step I hear a slight rustling sound.
For a fraction of a second I freeze with astonishment. Then I turn around and look at the little foal. Its head is moving. It is trying to breathe! I drop down on my hands and knees and scoop it into my arms. I take it away to the place where it should have been born. There is fresh straw laid out there. It will be away from the stench of fear and blood. The first thing it sees will n
ot be the gruesome sight of its mother with her guts ripped out of her. It will be me.
It’s mother, it’s father, it’s protector.
I lay it down gently and wait for it to slowly raise its head. Unsteadily, it does and tears start pouring out of my eyes. I remember once being angry with my father for destroying my mother’s life. If he had not left her she wouldn’t have become the sad drunk she was.
She laid her hands on my cheeks and said, “There is beauty even in ashes. Out of the ashes you came.”
“Welcome to the world, Phoenix,” I whisper brokenly.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Tyson
When he is able to stand, I bundle him up and put him into the horse transporter. I drive him to a friend of mine three hours away. He is experienced and has a mare that has just foaled and she might allow Phoenix to nurse from her. By the time I drop Phoenix off with my friend it is already four in the morning. I get back on the road almost immediately and call Ralph.
He is an early riser and picks up on the third ring. I try to tell him what happened to the horses without breaking down. His horror and shock is so deep I don’t think his faith in human beings will ever return again. I inform him I have business to take care of in London and he tells me not to worry, he’ll take care of everything at the farm.
Ralph is not a violent man, but as he hangs up he says, “Make those fuckers pay.” He ends the call without saying goodbye.
It is not fully light when I get to the cemetery. The air is very still as I walk down the path to my mother’s grave. It is clear to me now. Things have already gotten out of hand. He wants war. He’s got one.
