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“Will I?” I take a bite out of the crunchy apple and chew it for a few seconds. Once it’s turned into gooey mush, I spit it out on top of the change. “There you go.”
The kid’s mouth falls open as I grab the crisps and head out of the shop, sticking my middle finger up behind me. Little shit. Let that be a life lesson. I stash my goods underneath the bike seat, climb on, then start the engine and speed away.
I’ve spent the last week searching for answers. Answers that Freddie and Seb will be looking for too. But they’re missing the biggest piece of the puzzle: who Rose really is.
First, I found out everything I could about Matteo Santiago, the man she claimed killed her sister, and how he died. Rose’s story doesn’t add up. I know people in bad circles who told me about Matteo’s past. He was an abusive trafficker with a violent appetite and enjoyed killing women in a particular way. Car crashes wouldn’t do it for him. Instead, I believe the Killers Club—maybe even Rose herself—was responsible for his death. Rose is smart enough to know that lying is easier if you stay close to the truth.
If my theory is correct, it helps support my initial suspicions. Spencer could be responsible for Rose’s sister’s death, and she’s killing his men for revenge. Lucky for me, I’ve contacted someone who can help prove it…
“Come on,” I growl, revving the engine to the max and willing the bike to go quicker.
I swing into the car park beside a remote greasy spoon off the motorway. Through the cafe window, I see he’s already here. It’s been a year since we saw each other and the first time we’ve spoken since I joined the Dukes.
A bell above the door jingles as I enter. My thick leathers stick to me as a wall of heat, and the smell of cheap grilled meat hits me. I trudge towards the table where he’s sitting.
He sips his coffee, a thick tar-like substance that’s as black as his heart. I cast him in my dark shadow, and he gestures at the seat opposite him. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”
Torean’s face lights up in a twisted grin as I sit down. Looking at him is unnerving, like staring at myself in a mirror.
“It’s been a long time,” Torean says. “I’m starting to think you only get in touch when you want something.”
I narrow my eyes. “Can you give me the information I asked for or not?”
My twin’s laughter rings around the diner. We’re identical, aside from his lack of ink and shorter hair. He wears a black shirt with the top buttons loose which, for him, is a casual look. If people think I’m bad, they should meet him.
When I left for medical school to escape our Glasgow council estate shithole, Torean stayed and worked the streets. He built a drug empire and moved to Edinburgh. During my medical career, we rarely talked. He met Tilly once, a few months before she died, but it was easier to pretend my twin worked overseas than admit the truth—even my ex-wife didn’t know what he did for a living. I couldn’t risk anything muddying my stellar reputation.
“You asked me the same question a year ago when Frederick James came sniffing around for information.” Torean’s eyes twinkle with malice. “The answer is the same. I don’t keep records of favours I do for friends. Why do you think I’d tell you anything now,Vincent?”
I grit my teeth at his use of my pseudonym.
“Because I know that you were hiding something.” I didn’t push Torean for answers last time because it scared me to know what they were and how the truth could compromise my spot in the Dukes. “And because this time, it’s not Freddie wanting the answer. I’m asking for me.”
“You should be able to remember yourself.” Torean takes a photograph out of his pocket and turns it to show me. The grainy image shows Freddie and Rose standing on the pavement of a London street while a black cab drives past. My stomach twists as he points at the cab. “You were the one driving and surveilling her that night.”
“Do you think I’d be here if I remembered?” I snap.
After Tilly died, I grew out my hair. With the money I had left from the divorce, I bought my bike and spent months travelling around Scotland, taking out my anger on anyone who got in my way.
There were bar fights, brawls at football games, and bare-knuckle boxing matches. I developed a taste for violence and became unrecognisable from the man I used to be. When I crossed paths with my brother again by chance, he watched as I almost killed a man in a street fight. He was proud I was finally fulfilling my family’s destiny. The Campbell clan has a bloody history, and he wanted me to work for him... so I did.
“Why do you care about this, anyway?” Torean stashes the photograph away. “I’ll tell you what I told Freddie: I asked you to watch the bar and call a number when the ginger bitch left. How do you expect me to remember who the job was for? I don’t keep any records.”
When Freddie found me a year ago, he’d been tracking my alter ego—Vincent Pew—for months. He was investigating Rose’s four-year-old disappearance and found footage of a black cab registered under my alias near the scene. When Rose vanished, I was high on a concoction of drugs. I told him I did some surveillance work for my brother, but the details were hazy. Freddie was pissed I couldn’t give him more details, so he spoke to Torean but got no leads.
As Freddie and I talked more, we found we had a lot in common. He saw potential in my skills and showed me I could be more than my brother’s bitch. He gave me hope that I’d make a difference by joining the Dukes. Yeah, fucking right…
“You’re lying.” I cross my arms. “I didn’t push last time, but I know you remember every job you do.”
Torean smirks. My brother’s a criminal, but he’s one of the most intelligent people I know. He has an almost photographic memory.
“Hypothetically, if I could tell you who asked me to watch the girl,” Torean says, drumming his fingers on the table. “I’d need something from you in return.”
“Cut the bullshit. What do you want?”
He chuckles and reaches into his trouser pocket for a brown envelope and pushes it across the table. I tear open the seal and shake out a fake passport and driving licence. I open it to see my face staring back at me with ‘Vincent Pew’ written next to it. He wants me to become him again. A part of myself I made Freddie swear to keep secret. A part of myself with no boundaries at all.
“One kill, that’s all,” Torean says. “I give you a name, and you take care of it, then I’ll tell you who wanted to know where the pocket-rocket was that night.”
