Blood and Business: A Leeds Gangland Crime Fiction Novella, page 1
BLOOD AND BUSINESS
A DUNN FAMILY PREQUEL NOVELLA
THE DUNN FAMILY SERIES
RICKY BLACK
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Epilogue
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CHAPTER ONE
JULY 2002
The window of the cramped bedroom was thrown wide open, clothing strewn across the floor, a large bed taking up most of the room.
Tyrone Dunn sat in the bed, sweat beading his muscled chest, a slender woman pressed against him. He glared down at her, wriggling free and standing. Picking up his nearby watch, he checked the time, seeing it was just after 1 am.
Pulling on his trousers, Tyrone rubbed his eyes and headed downstairs. Rooting around the basic living room, he cursed as he stubbed his toe on a toy left on the floor. Scowling, he headed to the back door, grabbed a cigarette from his pocket, and lit it.
Tyrone opened the door and stood outside, staring out into the darkness. The summer seemed hotter; he put this down to the shootings and beef that had plagued Leeds for the better part of a year.
Tyrone was aware of his place in the street hierarchy. He and his brother ran a successful crew, but there were bigger ones out there, which didn’t sit well with him. He wanted more, and as was common nowadays, this led to him overthinking the future, wondering how he could step up his game and ascend.
Finishing the cigarette in contemplative silence, Tyrone flicked the butt and closed the door, fixing himself a coffee.
A creaking from above caught his attention, and he rolled his eyes. Tyrone recognised the movements and took a seat, savouring the warm mug. Soon, Shardell appeared in the doorway, looking in on him.
‘What are you doing up?’
Shardell was an attractive woman; tall and long-legged, with dark hair flecked with brown highlights, dark brown eyes and delicate facial features. At twenty-five, she was several years younger than Tyrone, but they looked the same age.
‘Couldn’t sleep,’ Tyrone replied.
‘Drinking coffee won’t help.’
Tyrone tensed, but ignored Shardell, sipping his drink. Shardell moved towards him and held out her hand. Without a word, Tyrone passed her a cigarette, and she smiled at him. She stood by the door, lighting the cigarette, smoke wafting all around her.
‘You look like you have something on your mind,’ she said after a few moments.
‘I don’t.’
‘Why else would you randomly wake up at this time? It’s not like I didn’t tire you out,’ she said, shooting him a saucy smile. Again, he sipped his drink and paid her little attention.
‘Don’t worry about it.’
‘Why won’t you talk to me?’
Tyrone kept his steady gaze on her.
‘You don’t need to worry. I just told you.’
Snorting, Shardell shook her head, nostrils flaring.
‘I don’t know why I even bother.’
Silence lingered. Tyrone finished his drink and clambered to his feet. Despite her mood, Shardell’s face softened, and she moved over, kissing him. Tyrone allowed it, but didn’t prolong it any more than necessary, and she moved her lips from his, but remained pressed against him.
‘Come back to bed, Ty. I’ll tire you out again.’
‘I need to go. I’ll get a shower and let myself out.’
‘Why do you have to go? You said you’d stay the night.’
‘Just go back to sleep, Shardell. I don’t have time to deal with this right now.’
Tyrone headed upstairs, turning on the shower, undressing and climbing straight in. He liked the water piping hot, and closed his eyes as the water beat down on him. When he was done, he towelled off, put his trousers back on, then headed back to the bedroom. Thankfully, Shardell was asleep by now. Tyrone grabbed the rest of his things and silently padded down the stairs, closing the door behind him.
As he approached his ride, Tyrone surveyed the quiet street, reflexes honed from years of street battles ready to act at a moment’s notice. He climbed into the BMW 5-Series and drove away, eyes flicking to his mirrors, checking for potential tails. He flicked on his Mobb Deep CD, bopping his head to Quiet Storm, hoping it would calm the restlessness surging through his body.
Arriving at his destination, Tyrone parked, heading inside and locking the door. He didn’t need to turn any lights on, able to navigate in the dark. He did this now, taking off his clothes and dumping them in the washing machine. Heading upstairs, he climbed into his bed. Tia sleepily shifted, but made no move toward him. Fatigue washed over Tyrone, and he closed his eyes, grateful that his body was allowing him the rest he needed.
As his mind drifted from the streets, to Shardell, to Tia, Tyrone’s eyes opened briefly, softly closing again shortly after as his body relaxed.
CHAPTER TWO
The sound of his Nokia mobile phone chirping forced Tyrone’s eyes open. Grumbling, he sat up, groping for the stupid device, noting at the same time that Tia was already awake. He couldn’t answer the call in time, but recognised the number as Cropper’s, his right-hand-man.
Rather than call back, Tyrone threw on some clothes, stuffed the phone in his pocket, and headed downstairs. He smelled the fried breakfast long before he reached the kitchen. Tia Dunn pottered around, making herself a drink, allowing Tyrone to get his plate. He kissed her on the cheek, which she didn’t return. The dirty look on her face told Tyrone that she knew exactly what he’d been doing the night before.
Tyrone ignored this, stifling a yawn.
‘Can I get a cup of coffee, babe?’
Tia shot him another evil look. ‘You can if you get it yourself.’
Tyrone’s eyes narrowed. ‘Why are you in such a bad mood?’
Tia didn’t respond. Snorting, he stood and made his own drink. Sarcastically thanking her, he sat and devoured his food.
‘Where’s Nat?’ He asked, his mouth full of eggs and plantain.
‘Out. Probably getting into trouble,’ she replied, her demeanour darkening. Tyrone smirked. Nathaniel was eleven and big for his age. He was lively, and Tyrone believed he was destined for big things.
‘He’s a good lad. I’ll catch him later; maybe take him to play football or summat.’
‘Nat doesn’t want to hang out with his dad. He wants to do things with his friends,’ Tia cuttingly said. Tyrone frowned, slighted by her comments.
‘I’m more fun to hang out with than you. All you do is sulk and watch shit TV.’
Tia shot him a withering glare, shrugging. ‘Believe what you like, Ty. You always do. The fact is, Nat didn’t even ask about you today. I don’t think he cares as much as you want him to.’
‘Whatever. Why aren’t you at work?’
‘I have the week off. I told you yesterday, and I told you last week. I arranged it ages ago.’
Tyrone grinned.
‘Must have forgotten. Doesn’t matter. Why don’t you go away with your friends? You could go London or summat?’
‘Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?’ She snorted.
‘What do you mean by that?’ Tyrone asked, affronted.
‘Forget it. I wouldn’t leave Nat with you, anyway. Nothing would get done, and you’d lose track of him like you always do.’
‘Sorry, I forgot, you’re the perfect parent who can do no wrong, and I’m the waste of space,’ he snapped, irked by her attitude.
‘I didn’t say that, but we have different ideas about raising a child.’
Tyrone’s phone rang before he could reply, which was probably for the best. He answered, keeping his eyes fixed on his wife.
‘Yo,’ he said.
‘It’s me. I tried you earlier. We need to talk.’
‘I’m just getting ready. Pick me up in an hour. Got a few errands I can run at the same time.’ Tyrone hung up once Cropper had confirmed, then he finished the coffee, and left the cup and plate on the table as he hurried from the room. After a quick shower, he threw on some clean clothes, picking a grey long-sleeved top, jeans and boots. Snapping on his watch and grabbing his phone, he thundered back downstairs.
Tia was still in the kitchen, now washing up.
‘I’ll be back later,’ Tyrone said to her.
‘Fine,’ she replied.
‘Tia, what the hell is going on? I don’t know why you’re in such a bad mood, but you need to fix up.’
‘If you need to go, then just go.’
‘Fine. I left some money for you next to the bed. I’ll come and look for you and Nat later.’
Cropper waited by the curb in a Blue Renault Clio. He was a stocky man, with big ears and wide nostrils. He wore a hooded t op, tracksuit bottoms and all-black trainers. Cropper had been working for the Dunn’s for five years. He kept to himself, and was a hard worker Tyrone had taken under his wing, keeping him close and schooling him.
‘Where are we going?’ Cropper asked, as Tyrone jumped into the car and grunted a greeting.
‘I’ve got some pickups to do. Drive up to Beeston and I’ll direct you.’
‘Think there’ll be trouble?’
Tyrone shook his head. ‘People know not to play with my money.’
Satisfied, Cropper nodded and drove away.
‘What did you want earlier?’ Tyrone asked.
‘Craig Hynes has been hanging around our people.’
‘Hanging around how?’ Tyrone felt his muscles tense.
‘He’s cornered a few of them around the Hood. Always while they’re not working, making general chit-chat, seeing how they feel about things.’
‘Has he made any threats?’
‘Not yet.’
Craig was a dangerous goon, connected to Snypa, a well-respected Jamaican associated with a feared group of killers known as the JK Posse. Tyrone had known Craig for years, and they’d never gotten along, yet they’d never had issues. The timing of the conversations was telling, and they would need to do something about it.
‘We’re gonna need to get deep on this one,’ he said.
‘Definitely,’ replied Cropper as they stopped at a traffic light. ‘He’s headstrong and independent. Plus, he’s been grumbling about you and Mitch for ages.’
‘Even so, the timing is weird,’ said Tyrone. ‘I’ll speak with my bro and see what he thinks. When we’re done here, I need you to get either Ban-Dan or Nathan to keep an eye on Craig’s people. If Snypa or any of his people are around them, I wanna know immediately.’
‘Got it, Ty. I’m on it.’
CHAPTER THREE
After finishing his pickups and getting food, Tyrone met Mitch at his Moortown home. In 1994, the Dunn’s had an issue with another gang that escalated. Out to make a name for themselves, this gang targeted Mitch, shooting up his house.
By chance, Mitch had been out when the attack occurred. He and Tyrone hunted down the crew, wiping them out. Soon after, Mitch was contacted by a down-on-his-luck associate, who had a house in Moortown and was looking for a quick sale. Mitch took the offer, and had been living there for the past eight years.
As Tyrone entered, Rudy was already with Mitch. He was a good friend of Tyrone’s who had worked in the crew since its inception, moving up in the ranks until he worked alongside Mitch. He had no official title, but Peacekeeper seemed the best fit. He ensured the money was always right and handled business when it wasn’t.
On paper, the Dunn brothers equally ran the crew, but to the streets, Mitch ran the show. He was seen as the smart one that made plans, and Tyrone — who enjoyed getting his hands dirty — was seen as a thug, who handled security and pickups, hitting hard against anyone who attempted to go against the crew.
They converged in the kitchen, the door behind them wide open. Mitch had a beer in his hand, as did Rudy. He was well-built, shorter than Tyrone, and bald-headed with a tidy goatee and the same sharp features Tyrone possessed. Rudy was a few inches shorter than Tyrone and Mitch, and had a wiry build with corded muscle.
As both men smiled at him, Tyrone took a moment to look between the pair, hard-faced and unsmiling. He grabbed a bottle, opened the beer, and took a long pull before taking a seat. His phone rang, but when Tyrone realised Shardell was calling, he ignored it. Mitch noticed, smirking.
‘Which of your women is trying to get to you?’
Tyrone glowered as Rudy chuckled.
‘She’s a pain. I swear, I’m gonna cut her off if she carries on.’
‘You’re not cutting off anyone, bro. You’re as hooked on these women as they are on you. You can’t quit them.’
‘Bollocks. I can move on any time I like,’ said Tyrone defensively, frowning at his brother. ‘When are you settling down, anyway? Are you waiting for Rudy to declare his love or summat?’
Rudy flipped his middle finger at Tyrone, still smiling, happy to let the brothers go back-and-forth.
‘Anyway, what were you talking about before I came over?’ Tyrone asked. The pair had been hanging out before he arrived, and he was curious about the discussion.
‘Nothing important. Just chit-chat,’ said Mitch.
‘If it’s business, I wanna know what’s going on,’ Tyrone insisted, knowing how cagey his brother could be.
‘Honestly, there’s nothing to say, bruv. If there was, you’d be the first to know.’
Rudy nodded in agreement, and Tyrone again shot both men a look, before he changed the subject.
‘I delivered a few late drop-offs to Cassim,’ he started. ‘He said he’d speak to you about it later, Rudy.’
‘Yeah, he sent me a text. That’s cool.’
‘Any problems collecting?’ Mitch asked. Tyrone shook his head.
‘Everyone paid. A few are getting a bit too frequent with the late payments. We need to stamp that out.’
Mitch scratched his chin, putting his empty bottle on the kitchen sink.
‘We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we’ll keep an eye on them.’
Tyrone shook his head. He didn’t think keeping an eye on late-payers was the answer. It was a sign of disrespect and would fester if it wasn’t handled.
‘That’s not enough. We look soft, and that brings me onto the next thing. Craig’s sniffing around our people.’
Rudy and Mitch shared a look. Tyrone picked up on it, eyes narrowing when they didn’t immediately clarify.
‘What’s going on?’
Rudy sipped his beer before he spoke.
‘Craig reached out to me personally.’
‘Saying what? Why did no one tell me?’ Tyrone’s voice rose.
‘We were waiting for the right time. It was a general chat, but he was fishing, seeing if I was happy working for you,’ said Rudy.
‘Is that all he said?’
‘Pretty much. He warned me about keeping my mouth shut. Not directly, but, it was implied.’
Tyrone mulled this over, still annoyed that they hadn’t spoken with him.
‘Ty, I know what’s going through your mind, but I wasn’t trying to keep shit from you. We wanted to see if it became something,’ said Rudy.
Mitch lit a cigarette and cut in. ‘We’re having our best year yet. We’re low on the police radar, and we’ve done well to stay out of the mix.’
Again, Tyrone shook his head. ‘You’re missing the point. This isn’t about Craig; it’s about the people he works for. Snypa is probing, and if we don’t act, we’re gonna look weak.’
Mitch remained impassive. ‘If Craig or Snypa dare make a move, we’ll crush them. Until then, we need to avoid making waves — the streets are still tetchy after all the drama. People just wanna quietly make money.’
Smiling, Tyrone nodded. He knew how stubborn his brother could be. Mitch was set in his ways, and being older, always expected to get what he wanted. Despite the apparent subservience, Tyrone was already planning his moves. He didn’t intend to wait around to be picked off by anyone.
Tyrone hung out a little longer, then left, looking at his phone as he climbed into his car, debating whether to go home. Starting the engine, he remained in place, his mind buzzing. Finally, he called Shardell.
‘I’m on my way. Have a cuppa ready for me.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Two days later, Tyrone and Rudy went for drinks. He’d kept his moves to himself during that time, the streets as quiet as Mitch had mentioned. Other than posturing and people trying to show off in the hot weather, nothing had transpired.
