Summer Storm (Broken Circles Book 1), page 9
Leaving her to it, I went about my day. For once, I rallied against my better judgement and left mother to fend for herself, deciding to be the terrible daughter she proclaimed me to constantly be. It would be worse when she found out I was going to the doctors later that afternoon to see if I could get her some help. She wouldn’t accept it, of course, but I had to try.
For twenty minutes I pleaded my mother’s case to a locum who showed little sympathy and had trouble stifling his bored expression, like he’d heard it all before. He explained there was little I could do, little he could do, and that an individual could only be sectioned under the mental health act if they were deemed a danger to themselves or others. He warned it was also a rare occasion this applied to people like my mother, a psyche ward not viewed in any way as helpful. Sectioning was not an avenue I was comfortable going down, so I tossed it aside immediately. There were referrals, if she’d come to the practice to get checked over but waiting lists were a mile long and a person had to want to make themselves better. My mother didn’t. Content to wallow in whatever bottle she could, I knew I was flogging a dead horse. Bar a trip to A&E, there was nothing I could do, harping on at her would be like talking to a brick wall, I’d been doing it long enough and knew the consequences.
I ended up leaving the practice feeling despondent and inadequate, the trip to work lost in a daze while I racked my brains for a solution that seemed like an impossibility.
Friday night at Caulder’s carried a full staff, entertained a packed-out bar, delivered sore limbs and relatively decent tips. I was dead on my feet, as I predicted I would be, when it came to throwing out time. As soon as the last punter left, I kicked off the ridiculous heels and helped Carol clean down the bar while CeeCee buggered off without so much as a glance back.
“Her days are numbered,” Carol seethed as she dry wiped the washed glasses. “She hardly moves her arse all night, then fucks off without helping. I don’t think so.”
Agreeing with Carol, I quietly got on with the cleaning. I wanted home for some much-needed sleep before it was rinse and repeat the next evening. I had Sunday off then back to the Prep school for three days of cute little six-year-olds and teaching. My jobs were night and day, but they paid the bills, which was all that mattered at the end of the day.
A delay on the Night Tube meant I was later getting home. It was with a sigh of relief that I closed the flat door behind me and noticed, for a change, mum had gone to bed and would hopefully stay there past half six in the morning. I peeked my head around her door to make sure she was sleeping sound, then sneaked around the flat searching for any bottles of booze she’d saw fit to hide. Finding only two, I tipped what was left of them down the sink without an ounce of regret. She’d most likely have some stashed away in her bedroom, but two quarter bottles of whisky, was a half she couldn’t drink.
I fell into bed and managed a blissful ten hours of sleep before waking up to my mother screeching my name at the top of her lungs.
Stumbling out of bed in a mini panic, I raced into the living room to find the place upended. She’d torn the cushions from the furniture, swiped pictures from the wall and smashed a glass on the coffee table. Hearing my gasped reaction to her anger, she wobbled precariously when she spun around, then lunged, knocking me to the floor. Standing over me, the wretched woman pointed her finger before striking me hard across the face.
“Where the fuck is it, bitch?”
Stunned stupid and still half asleep, I had no fucking idea what she was talking about. I blinked up at her, taken aback she’d put me on the floor and lashed out so violently. It often took her a while to get to the physical part of her abuse, she’d been sharp this time.
“My booze. Where is it?”
Oh. Oh, okay. That. “Down the sink.” I got up on unsteady legs and stood toe to toe. “You’re killing yourself the way you’re drinking.” Softening my tone, I went on. “I spoke to the doctor yesterday. Come down with me, Mum, they can help you. Please?”
Her eyes narrowed to slits so I could no longer see the yellowed tinge of her eyeballs, her fists clenched at her sides and I gave myself ten seconds to get the hell out of her way before I got a back hander to rival the slap. Whipping around, I took off back to my bedroom, slamming the door in my wake, engaging the two bolts I’d had put on the door. I never had to use them often, but today was a day I did.
Sure enough, less than thirty seconds later, fists rained down on the other side of the door. “Get out here,” she yelled.
No bloody way. I slumped down the door, leaning my back against it and let out a shaky sigh. For fifteen minutes I listened to the most godawful tirade she’d ever thrown at me, every derogatory name she could think of, she hurled with venom. Bitch, slut, whore, home wrecker… The list was endless, each word cutting and wounding, like they always did.
It was too much. Sinking further to the floor, I stuck my face in the space between my knees and sobbed quietly. I no longer recognised the woman whose fondest word for me began with the letter c. Bitter, ugly and twisted. Yet I loved her like no one else. Running away wasn’t an option, not when I was the only one who gave a shit about her.
Eventually, her cursing abated, and she stopped banging long enough to move away from the door. The flat fell silent once again. I didn’t dare move in case it was a trick to get me to open the door. She’d done that before, and it never ended well for either of us.
It was a long hour before I stood up, fixed my face with enough make-up to plaster a wall and sorted my hair, then got dressed as quietly as I could. Gingerly, I moved around my mother, who sat with another bottle she’d dug up from somewhere and cleaned up her mess. She didn’t say a word as I swept up the glass from the table and picked up the ruined pictures, depositing both into the kitchen bucket. If she saw me, or heard me sneaking out of the flat, she didn’t utter a word.
Yannick
“He did fucking what?” I was so furious I knew I’d be breaking bones within the next few hours. Or cutting fingers, Yannick Ischmov’s trademark tool of torture. There was no way some jumped up fucking runner was putting me inside because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut.
“Told Devlin where he gets his drop.”
“Our Devlin, the copper?”
“The very one.”
What a stupid fucker. Thank God it had been Devlin and not some other fine member of the Metropolitan Police Force. Devlin was ours and could be attributed to the peaceful life we had with relatively few raids or stops from uniforms. He would have gone straight to Greg with whatever the runner had been brave enough to offer.
“The kid strung out?”
“Nah, don’t think so. Was trying to get his cock sucked.”
“Fuck my life. And he used that to impress? Where the hell do we find these idiots?”
“Would appear so.”
“Did Devlin suck his cock?”
“Not bloody likely,” Greg snorted.
Through my anger, I smirked at him. “Sucked yours though, huh?”
Greg blushed and cast his eyes downward. Yeah, not so cocky now. He had a weird thing going on with Devlin, aware we were friends, however. I’d introduced them years ago and now they conversed between themselves with intel swaps, leaving me out of it completely. They were definitely fucking around and as long as it didn’t interfere with other shit, I didn’t give a flying monkey about it. I trusted Greg enough to know he wasn’t colluding behind my back in a distasteful way with the police force, even if he was bumping uglies with an officer.
Cracking my knuckles, I nodded to Sandir. “Guess we’re paying the dickhead a visit. You know where he’s going to be tonight?”
“Oh, yeah.” He grinned wide. “Greg’s been keeping tabs on the idiot since Dev told him about four hours ago. Silly twat is trying his luck down at Nero’s right about now.”
“Let me guess, he found someone else to suck his cock?”
“Not yet, but he’s definitely cruising.”
“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Sandir rumbled. “Shouldn’t you have been sucking the copper’s dick? You know, to say thanks and all that.”
Greg’s laugh was obnoxious as he patted Sandir’s chest. “Nah, mate. Don’t work like that.”
Sandir balked, and I could tell exactly what he was thinking, how his gears were turning. Devlin was almost as big as Sandir, though his body slighter in mass, and Greg, well… not so much. He coughed into his hand. “All right then.”
“Someone grab Andrey and Tayte, meet me at the car. Got some fingers to swipe.”
“Just fingers?”
“I’ll see how I feel when I catch up to the little fucker.”
Nodding to the bouncer I used occasionally at Caulder’s on the way into the club, Trey raised his eyebrows as he opened the door and let us in without the usual frisk and checks.
“We’ll clean up, I promise,” I winked.
“Shit,” he said, but grinned as I patted his shoulder. “Third door down the hall is quiet.”
“Cheers, Trey. Knew there was a reason I liked you.”
By the time I was inside, I’d mellowed a bit. Not enough to go easy, but enough I was thinking twice about dragging the imbecile kicking and screaming to the river Thames and drowning the rat. We found him sleazing up to some college kid, and the minute he spied the five of us, he tried to bolt.
Tayte was quicker, nabbing him by the belt on his skinny jeans before he could get within a foot of the emergency door. He was about shitting his pants when he turned to face me. Hauling him into the cupboard Trey had mentioned, and out of sight with Tayte and Sandir, Greg and Andrey stayed outside, keeping the peace because this was about to get loud and messy. Five minutes was all I needed, and a lot could happen in such a small amount of time.
Without giving the bloke a chance to open his mouth and spew off any excuses, I drew back my fist and sucker punched him in the stomach, only slightly satisfied when he doubled over in pain.
“Sorry,” he wheezed. “Fuck, sorry.”
He fucking knew what he’d done and what he had coming. Sandir wheeled him around, arm pulled up behind his back, his thick arm around his neck in a lock. “Snitching?” he sneered down into his face.
“It just slipped out. He was askin’ questions.”
“God, you’re a dumb arse, ain’t you? You don’t get second chances, not after something that stupid. He was a fucking copper.” The guy slumped in Sandir’s hold, resigned to his fate.
“Which one?”
I swore his lip trembled as he looked toward the wall. “Really, Mr Ischmov? You need to do that? I swear I won’t open my trap again.”
“You’ve just lost your job, think you need a permanent reminder as to why, so you can be sure not to make the same mistake again.”
“Please, no. I need the money.”
“I trusted you. You let me down and have given me no choice. Which one?”
His fight came back, and he struggled with Sandir, a wasted effort. Sandir wouldn’t tolerate his carry on any more than I would. “Tayte, hold him. Last time. Which one?”
“Christ. Pinkie, just the pinkie.” Sweat erupted on his forehead as he looked away, full on crying now.
His tears didn’t sway me, I’d seen it all before and displays of emotion like the one he was giving didn’t affect me, not anymore. Pulling out the cigar cutter from the inside pocket of my jacket, I watched as he shut his eyes and bit down on his lip. I nodded to Sandir who clamped his hand over the bloke’s mouth. Tayte yanked at his wrist, straightening his fingers and with a slide and a snip, I severed the pinkie at the joint.
Blood gushed, and for a moment I felt sick to my stomach as I took a step back, getting out of the way. His digit fell to the floor, the stupid idiot screaming bloody murder under Sandir’s fingers.
“I’ll put a hole in your chest and leave you in the sewer for the rats if you ever fucking open your mouth about our business again,” I growled in front of his face, ripping his head back by his hair. “Blink if you understand?”
He blinked furiously which was good enough for me. Nodding to Sandir, I cleaned the cigar cutter with a bright white handkerchief, then put it back into my pocket, turned and left the room. Sandir and Tayte would deal with the rest, puking all over the floor in front of the scallywag would do nothing to uphold the reputation the organisation had, and I was about ready to vomit if I didn’t get away from the mess I’d made.
“A drink while we wait?” Andrey asked as I stepped into the hallway where he stood with Greg.
Sucking in a breath, I glanced down the hall while tugging on the lapels of my jacket, waiting for my stomach to right itself. I was long past being able to do this anymore. No, that was utter bullshit, I’d never been comfortable acting the way I just had, it wasn’t in me no matter how many people proclaimed I was as nasty and as violent as they came.
This club really wasn’t my style, but it would be ten minutes before Sandir and Tayte would join us, and a yes, I needed a stiff fucking drink. “Sure. Then I’m off to Caulder’s.”
Andrey, Tayte and Greg took their leave after the club while Sandir and I headed to Caulder’s. I didn’t really want another drink, but I had a hankering to see a certain pretty pink-haired waitress, wanting to nail down exactly what it was about her that had me seeing her face when I’d fallen asleep these past few nights.
In truth, she was the one stopping me from going out and fucking some random woman just to get it over with. I wanted Jolie, and only Jolie, it was the weirdest thing. She was the sort of woman who had an absolute amount of respect about her, a woman who would never in a million years let me treat her like a hole, and I had no intention of doing so. She didn’t flirt or throw herself at me, or any of my men. Dignified, she was so beautifully dignified, I was certain one night with her would be my undoing and I wasn’t afraid of what that meant.
“You’ve definitely got the hots there for Bunny, Yan” Sandir said as we sat down at a table in the far corner, away from the busy bar. No VIP tonight.
“Yeah,” I laughed, shaking my head. “Think I just might.” I trusted Sandir with my life, told him everything, no point denying again what was right in front of his face.
“I like her. She looks like a decent woman.”
“Maybe. She finds out the kind of man I am, she’ll probably run a mile. Wouldn’t blame her.”
“Could be she already knows. She walked in on some pretty gruesome shit.”
“She’s afraid of me,” I grumbled, still upset over her initial opinion of me.
“Most people are. Surely you ain’t surprised?”
Sighing, I took a long gulp from my soda lime. “I don’t want her to be.”
“You know, you’re a fairly decent guy when you ain’t chopping fingers off. Don’t sell yourself short. I think Bunny might just be the woman who can see past shit like that if she was really into someone.”
Scanning the bar, I was disappointed I hadn’t yet clapped eyes on her. “Guess we’ll see, won’t we?”
The room was noisy and dark, but I still nudged closer to Sandir and dipped my head down so my mouth was hidden when I spoke. “How many people have you killed, Sandy?”
“Seven,” he answered without hesitation.
“They keep you awake at night?”
Glancing at me, he took a minute, his tongue darting out to lick at his bottom lip. “No, not really.”
“Yosef does.”
“He wasn’t a paedo or a rapist, Yan. He was your brother, of course he’s going to keep you awake at night. You beat yourself up far too much about him, his death wasn’t on you. Fucking bastards playing games.” Those men warranted his indignation because Irina’s father and mine, Lev too, had been playing games. Moving pieces into place they had no business moving, pitting one brother against the other in an effort to come out on top. I was an easier person to bend to will, Yosef the stronger of us and not likely to toe the line like they wanted. All they wanted was a soft touch with the Ischmov name, and they’d settled on me because there was no way Yosef was ever going to sit down, do as he was told and shut the fuck up. He was too greedy, too egotistic, too much my father. My future had been decided without my input long before I’d understood what was going on.
“Clive was neither of those things,” I stated, thinking back to the stupid twit.
“Maybe not, but four million is a fuck ton of cash to try to rob, never mind their betrayal. They both belong where they are.” I hummed at the back of my throat wondering why I found it so difficult to agree. “I know you only have Yosef on your hands, but he was one more than you could cope with. What they demanded of you was cruel, Yan. Cruel.”
I’d never questioned the things Sandir did for me, he did them without pause, never grumbling. “I’m sorry I ask you to do these things for me,” I apologised.
Sandir patted his hand on my thigh and smiled. “You don’t ask anything, forget about it. I exorcise my demons well enough, they don’t keep me awake, and I don’t lose sleep.” He picked up his bottle and took a long pull, then put it back on the table with a clank. “I’d love to know about the Princess though.”
Frowning at him, I asked. “What do you mean? You were there.”
“Yes, and I thought I was going to see the worst of you over those few days. I still don’t get it.”
“She was a product of the games we all play to score our little corner of the empire. Charlie was no different in the way he used people.” I flicked his curiosity away, I didn’t want to think about Charlie’s daughter, Chrissie, because what went down that day still left a sour taste in my mouth.
“Mate, she was a whore, a manipulative bitch who could have given Irina a run for her money given half the chance.”
I huffed. He wasn’t exactly wrong in his assessment of the woman. “Did you not see the way he looked at her? The way he fought for her, the way he hurt every time I struck her?”
“He was definitely in distress.”
“I could see how much he loved her.”
