Page 67 of Savage Reckoning

“Don’t you remember me, Uncle Jerome?” Aaron drops into the burgundy leather-covered winged chair opposite Archer and casually drapes one leg over the arm. “It’s been a while, but even so…”

“Get out of my house.” There’s more frantic pressing of the bell. “I’ll call the police.”

Aaron grins. “Feel free. You’re probably on first-name terms with the local plod by now. Oh, and don’t bother with the bell, Jeeves is taking a break.”

“What are you doing here? I’m busy. I have things I need to do…”

“I’m sure. Like trying to work out how all your betting shops came to go up in smoke all at once. Not to mention the scrapyard and that pigsty of a warehouse.”

“Maybe he’s checking his banking apps,” Tony suggests, “and wondering where it all went.”

Archer scowls at the computer screen then back at Tony. “How do you know…? Oh, I see. I should have guessed. That bitch of a so-called stepdaughter…” He takes a good slurp of his whisky. “You bastards.”

“Got it in one,” Aaron sneers. “Not that relieving you of your ready cash in any way makes us even. You still owe us for a perfectly good helicopter.”

“Get fucked,” is the succinct reply. “Tell me, how’s that brother of yours? Still unconscious, last I heard. Must be, or he’d be here himself, not sending the runt of the litter to do his dirty work.”

Aaron’s gaze hardens. His smile doesn’t so much as offer to reach his eyes. “Ethan sends his regards. I’d say he was looking forward to seeing you again, but that would be a stretch. Truth is, no one really wants to see you ever again. That’s why we’re here.” He levels the barrel of his gun as a spot between Archer’s eyes. “Time to say goodbye, Uncle.”

It’s as though the reality of his situation is suddenly apparent. Archer blanches, squinting at the gun. “You don’t want to be doing this, lad. We’re family…”

“I think I’ll cope.” He cocks the weapon.

“No! Wait. Please, if we could just—”

Aaron directs a questioning glance at each of us. “Anyone have any better ideas?”

We all shake our heads.

“Well, then…”

The gunshot reverberates around the room. Archer jerks in his chair then collapses backwards, sightless eyes fixed on the ceiling, his brains splattered over the back of his chair.

Aaron re-holsters his firearm. “Sorted.”

CHAPTER 15

Megan

“It’s not broken.” I peer at the image on my tablet, then glance back at my patient. “A nasty sprain, but it’ll heal well enough with rest. Keep the support bandage on for a couple more weeks.”

Freddie beams. He seems pleased enough with the verdict. “Right, Doc. Thanks.” He gets up to leave, presumably headed back to the kitchen where he is confident of receiving a hearty welcome. In exchange for peeling potatoes and other such drudgery, he has access to limitless supplies of home-made baked goods. My aunt was always a woman who liked to feed people up, and she sees something of the waif in Freddie Sillitoe.

So do I, and I guess Jack, too.

“Wait.” I gesture to him to stay where he is. “I need a word.”

He sits back down.

“I was wondering where you might go. When you leave here, I mean.”

“Go?”

“Yes. Where’s home?”

“Manchester,” he replies warily. “You know that.”

“I know that’s where your flat is. But what about your family? Parents? Brothers and sisters?”

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