AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Nico is our man at the gate, and his voice comes over the radio. “Two cases missing, boss. Otherwise it looks to be okay.”
Ethan levels his gaze at The Widow. “It appears you owe me the thick end of fifty thousand pounds for the missing guns. I’ll settle for thirty.”
She glares at us, then finally gives a single sharp nod. “Grigor will pay you.”
The goon reaches inside his jacket as though retrieving the cash. Clearly, they both think we were born yesterday. I’ve put a bullet through Grigor’s forehead before he even gets his gun cocked. The weapon skitters across the ground a split second before he does.
The Widow does marginally better. She manages to get a shot off before I take her out as well. It’s ironic, I think, that the only person she hits is Callum. He’s fortunate her aim was still a little wild and the bullet passes through his thigh.
Ethan observes the action dispassionately. “Moses, take out the vans.”
Moments after he issues the instruction, three loud explosions rock the air. Plumes of smoke billow up from beyond the trees, signalling the final demise of what was left of The Widow’s gang.
Ethan’s eyes narrow. “Any survivors, Moses?”
“No, boss. All accounted for.”
“Nice job.” He turns on his heel, his phone in his hand. “Megan, we need you down here.” He crouches to check on Callum. “You’ll be all right, but you really do need to learn to duck.”
Callum grimaces and flexes his jaw. “Never mind the bullet. Did that knobhead need to hit me so fucking hard?”
Tony grunts. I think I catch the word ‘pussy’, but he’s busy, too.
He makes the call to our clean-up team. “Several bodies and some wreckage. Quick as you like.”
Matters properly attended to, and Callum safely in Megan’s care, we stroll back inside.
“That went well,” I observe. “Coffee?”
“As well as could be expected,” Ethan agrees.
By mutual consent, we head for the kitchen.
“Pity we couldn’t get any of them alive, though.”
He’s right, but you can’t have everything. At least we had no casualties, apart from Callum’s flesh wound and bruised ego, and the guns that are still missing. We know some of them ended up in the possession of a motorcycle club in New York and we’ve no real choice but to let that go.
All in all, a good day’s work, and it isn’t even eight o’clock yet.
“Aaron tellsme you got there in time.” Ethan regards me across the kitchen table, his mouth full of bacon sandwich. “How is she?”
“Grieving,” I reply. Heartbroken might be more accurate.
I left Cambridge two days ago, the morning after Esther Lowison’s death. For reasons I’m not entirely certain I understand, I stayed the night. I shared Ruth’s bed, where she clung to me all night, begging me to make love to her.
Naturally, I obliged. It was sweet enough, and not lacking in passion. Even so, it felt wrong. It felt as though I was exploiting her, taking advantage of her vulnerability. I’m not proud of myself. I’m even less proud of the fact that I’d do the same again given half a chance.
Maybe that’s why I left the next morning. I kissed her, wished her well, and walked out the door without a backward glance.
“Will you be at the funeral?” Ethan wonders. It’s to take place in three days’ time.
“No. She wouldn’t want me there.” And there’s the matter of the hordes of police expected to attend, in deference to Mrs Lowison’s late husband.
“I see.” He looks at me and sees straight through my bullshit. He always has.
“Faith stayed,” I babble on. “She’s helping with the arrangements.”
“Okay.”
