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“Two of Conner’s men,” Ringo replies as I swing around in surprise. “And a guest. Len’s escorting them here.”
“Conner?” James looks at me in question. “British Conner? Is that who found Brunelli?”
“Yeah.” I knock back my drink, glancing down at my watch. We’ve been gone three minutes. I give it ten until the search party arrives, and no man will want to be in the vicinity of my wife when that happens, least of all me.
“Fucking hell,” Otto breathes, dropping to the couch. “Does Goldie know?”
Goldie?
“What do you think?” James asks sardonically. “If she knew the root of her trauma had been found, she wouldn’t be out there relaxed, drinking, and wearing a fucking dress, would she? She’d be kitted out in everything she needed to torture a man to death.” James looks at me, clearly stressed out, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he’d like to make a mess of him too. What the fuck did this guy do to Goldie to warrant such stress and fury? “I strongly advise you to get Brunelli the fuck out of here,” James continues, helping himself to a drink. “Unless you want your wedding to be a bloodbath, because that’s exactly what it’ll be if Goldie sniffs him out.”
Something tells me it could be a bloodbath if I let James at him too.
“What did he do to her?” Brad asks, looking between both James and Otto for an answer. The tension levels are through the roof.
Yes, what did . . .
It hits me, and I inhale, standing back, an unstoppable shudder coursing through me. “He raped her,” I say quietly.
James’s jaw has gone into spasm, his hand shaking as he carries the glass to his mouth, his eyes glazing. “I found her in an alleyway beaten black and blue. I intervened, gave him a few digs, but he got away.”
A few digs? I bet. My jaw starts twitching wildly too. I need to contain James and myself. “Fuck,” I hiss, discarding my glass and going to the door, swinging it open. I don’t know much, but I do know time isn’t on our side right now. I can’t sit and wait for him to be brought to my office. “No one touches him,” I warn, making my way to the entrance of my house, swinging the door open. Len is just coming up the steps, two rough-looking fuckers tailing him, and between them, a pitiful looking bloke with scraggy hair and a scrawny body. Inappropriately, I imagine the fucker trying to get handy with Goldie now. She’d crush him. And, God help me, I want to see that. “Get him back in the car,” I order curtly, making the two guys stop in their tracks.
“What?” one asks, looking mighty inconvenienced. He has nothing on me. “We were told to bring him here.”
Jesus, Conner is one efficient man, I’ll give him that, but I gave him explicit instructions for a fucking reason. “It’s my wedding day, and I made a promise to my wife I’d be conducting no business. If you two fuckers make me break that promise, I won’t think twice about setting her on you.”
“Who are you?” Brunelli demands, his bony face twisting. “Why the fuck am I here?” He bucks and wriggles, yelling his protest, and I feel my nostrils flare, anger rising.
“Get him in the fucking car,” I hiss, looking back at the house, checking the coast is clear.
They start to back up, and I see James in my side vision moving in. I throw my arm out to stop him passing, facing him, forcing him to look at me. “He’s Goldie’s,” I remind him, hoping the words cut through the red mist. “Tomorrow, he’s Goldie’s.”
Otto lends a hand, taking James’s arm and easing him back. “Come on, Kel,” he says.
“Get Leon,” I say to Brad, and he goes straight to his phone as Len ushers the men back into their car with Brunelli. “Anyone got eyes on Rose?”
“I’ll go,” James says, backing away, being sensible, leaving me to deal with this.
“Leon’s on his way,” Brad calls, just as the kid himself darts around the corner, Jerry plodding along as fast as he can behind him.
“Rose and Beau are suspicious,” he says, slightly out of breath. “What’s going on?”
“Len’s gonna drive you to the boatyard.” I put my hand out, and a gun lands in my palm courtesy of Ringo. I pick up Leon’s hand and put it in his grasp. “The guy in the car, the skinny fucker, I want you to put him in a container, you got that?”
He stares down at the gun, mesmerized. “Got it, D-boss.”
“Only shoot him if it’s you or him, okay? We need him alive.”
Leon nods, and I gently push him toward the car, giving Len a nod. He knows what to do. “Now, can I get back to my wedding?”
