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Ari winked at him.
“And when I saw her, I knew straight away. So did Mum. We all did.”
Shaun shook his head. There was a whole heap of questions to ask, a whole pile more than the answers he’d been given.
And judging by Claire’s face, it was the same for her too.
“What about the contract?” Claire breathed, overcome by it all.
King jerked his head and the gang moved over, away from their bikes towards the house. Shaun tensed and stood firm, reassured only by Ari’s large hand resting on his shoulder.
“The dude’s in Dargarei.”
“What? Irish?” Shaun asked.
The big warrior raised an eyebrow in confirmation.
“And he’s done some damage. Stole himself a couple of guns and he’s on his way up here.”
It was the worst news.
“What kind of guns?”
“Hard to say. Frank’s mainly got shotguns. Good for popping off the odd possum or wild goat.”
“Frank, did ya say? As in, Camping Store Frank?”
“Yeah.”
Shaun studied King’s face. There was something he wasn’t being told.
“Is he still alive?”
“Yeah… Last time I heard.”
King focused on the decking.
“He’s been airlifted to Auckland.”
Shaun rubbed his face and turned to face the house for a second. No way was anyone going to see that a tear had escaped from the corner of his eye.
His friend, the first one who’d welcomed him with open arms here was fighting for his life in a trauma unit.
Celia would be beside herself. And he was to blame.
“D’you think he’s already here?” Claire asked her father, scanning the horizon anxiously.
“Hard to say. But we’d better be ready.”
Chapter 24
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The swarm of motorcycles thundering past his hire car woke Irish up from his deep, dreamless snooze. He watched them as they roared past the public beach area up to the big house on the lake shore.
“Fuck!”
The Cobras had got to them first. That’d mean he’d have to pay out that bunch of amateurs, after all.
They were certainly turning up mob-handed, there had to be twenty of them, at least.
He slung the gun bag over his shoulder and locked the hire car door behind him.
He could simply rock up there? Be all English about it. Ask the nice leather-clad chaps if they’d be total sports and let him sort out those two young scallywags himself. If they wouldn’t mind awfully stepping aside for him … so he could splatter their feckin’ brains like burst watermelons across the decking.
Irish shuddered.
He’d let himself get soft. He’d been relying too much on others, people like Whitey, to do his dirty work. And he couldn’t deny the fact that he was enjoying himself now. That old nutter in the camping shop, it had been like the old days again. Feeling their fear, watching them fight back even when they were so obviously defeated, it always turned him on.
He followed the line of the bushes, trying to keep out of sight of the house. In the end, he found a clump of giant spiky grass that proved the perfect covering for him.
From there, he could see that ten or more bikers had quickly made themselves at home. They were sitting on the porch. Tough nuts in leathers and heavy metal band T-shirts. Biker outlaws with semi-automatics.
They were tooled up better than he was.
His eyes twitched when he saw her come out of the house. Claire Williams. She hobbled out of the door at the back towards the bikers. She had a bad ankle. That was good. Meant she couldn’t run.
He blinked then, not believing his eyes. What was she doing? She was offering them bottles of beer.
She went back inside and a little while later came out again. This time with bowls of snacks.
He’d seen everything now. How had this turned from an abduction to a goddam party?
Something had gone down. He wasn’t sure what it was, but she certainly didn’t look like she was about to meet her Maker anytime soon.
???
“Frank’s out of surgery. The police are swarming all over Dargarei looking for Irish. They’ve set up roadblocks on all the routes south,” Shaun announces, coming off the phone.
Celia’s called him back. He’s not told her much about who did it. I’ve told him it’s not his fault but he still feels terrible about Frank. I do too.
“I’ll see ‘em right,” Tane says gruffly, studying me sheepishly.
He’s so big, his thighs scrape the underneath of the kitchen table he sits in the chair.
“Yeah, you should,” I add, and he raises an eyebrow at me.
I’ve said enough. He knows he’s not innocent in this. But I don’t push it.
“Why did you never try to contact me?” I ask him straight out.
It’s been bugging me. And I get the feeling that Tane, I refuse to call him King, Tane appreciates directness.
“Yer mum, when she wrote me, she sent me a baby pic. I’d got injured and I was skint. I offered to send her money when I had some, but she wanted more. She wanted me to come back. Be yer dad.”
“And you didn’t.”
It isn’t a question. It’s a statement of fact.
“I’m not proud of that. I was gettin’ mixed up in some heavy shit back then. I sent her a cheque a while later, but it never got cashed. I took it to mean she’d moved on.”
“And that was that?”
“Ah yeah, pretty much. I always wondered about you though. Always remembered your birthday. April 23rd.”
I bat away the traitorous drop rolling down my face.
I sniff.
“Seems to me like you’re still into some heavy shit?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles. “Questionable lifestyle choices.”
Ari raises an eyebrow to that and his face is serious again.
“Doesn’t have to be, bro,” Ari says quietly. “Mum and Dad miss you. We all do.”
“I can’t leave the boys.”
“I’m glad I found you, Tane,” I tell him.
His eyes meet mine and I find a softness in them that takes my breath away.
“Me too, baby girl.”
???
“Tell me about her scar.”
Ari and his brother moved out onto the porch with Shaun. Bottles of beer in their hands, they sat on the decking steps looking out at the lake.
Shaun stretched out his legs.
“It was them. The Scousers. Grabbed her, tried to get her to talk. Used her to get at me.”
“This Irish fulla?”
“An associate of his, yeah. He’d been Claire’s boss in the bar she was working in. He was trying to make a quick buck.”
Even though technically the big guy had been doing the same, Shaun noticed Tane’s free hand had balled into a fist.
“If I ever meet him, he’s a dead man.” Tane rumbled.
“He’s in prison for it.”
“Just as well.”
Tane Matene stared out at the lake.
“And what makes you so special? To be hunted halfway across the world?”
“I’m not gonna sugar-coat it,” Shaun said honestly. “I was in the special forces.”
“A soldier.”
“Hmm. Yeah. Then I was in the National Crime Agency. I infiltrated gangs.”
“He wants you real bad.”
“I killed some people. Got a lot of Irish’s mates banged up, including his little brother.”
King’s eyes drifted towards Ari. The look he gave him was thinly disguised. And Shaun could tell that if he had done that to the Cobras, King would have gone after him too. Hunted him down. For the honour of his brother.
The big man was quiet for a good while.
“You got quite a past too,” he muttered finally.
“Yes,” Shaun answered, “And I’m not proud of it.”
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“And you about to rat us out too? Tell the cops about the operation in the forest?”
“No,” Shaun answered flatly. “Your stuff. It’s none of my business. It was my job before but Sion Edwards is done. Now, I’m Shaun Cobain. And it feels… better. Much better.”
The gang chief sat quietly for a few more seconds.
“You startin’ over again out here, then?”
“Yeah,” Shaun meditated. “Thinkin’ of starting an outdoor centre.”
Ari chipped in, “What? For kids?”
“For everyone. But I was thinking about a kids programme too. For kids like I was.”
King swigged his beer.
“What d’ya mean?”
“Kids on the street, who get mixed up in bad stuff.”
“And that was you?”
“Yeah, that was me.”
Tane nodded, staring at the lake.
“Army saved me,” Shaun continued. “Got me fit. Taught me skills.”
“For me, it was sport,” King muttered half to himself.
Ari chewed it over.
“When I went back, Dad made me learn skills passed down from our tipuna, our ancestors.”
