Page 38 of Savage Justice

“Me? What would I be thinking?”

I shrug. “Successful artist slumming it with criminal thug? I might just be after you for your money.”

“Are you a thug?”

I notice she doesn’t quibble with ‘criminal’. Or money.

“On occasion,” I admit, offering neither excuse nor apology. It is what it is.

“I owe you everything. You’re welcome to my money, there’s no need to butter me up with banging orgasms. Not that I’m objecting, I just wanted to be clear.”

I frame her jaw between my palms. “Noted. And for what it’s worth, you owe me nothing. Tony and I stepped in to help Lucy because we were there, and we could. She was a little kid in trouble, it was the right thing to do. We came to your house the other night because she told us you were being attacked. A vulnerable woman, on her own, it was the least you could expect. This is different, and also in the interests of clarity, I wanted you before I knew who you were, what you were. I respect all of that, your talent, your success, but I’d want you anyway. Let’s not clutter this up with other baggage.”

She holds my gaze, hers steady and considering. Eventually, she nods. “Okay. No baggage. Let’s just… see what happens.”

I kiss her forehead. I know full well what’s going to happen, and as often as I can contrive it. There’s something about Molly that has my dick in a vice, and I’m not complaining.

“Let’s go and eat.” I take her hand again, and we head for the kitchen.

CHAPTER 10

Nico

Bairstow clearly doesn’t appreciate our hospitality. The din echoes in the semi-darkness as Tony and I make our way down the underground passageway towards his cell. He’s screeching obscenities and by the sound of it trying to boot down the door, though how he’s managing that with two broken legs I’m not entirely sure. His efforts will be fruitless, it’s made of solid steel, but that doesn’t stop him.

God loves a tryer.

We arrive at the entrance to the cell, and I slide back the viewing panel to check what’s happening inside. Our man is lurching around the small space on crutches, one leg in plaster from ankle to thigh, the other just as far as the knee.

“Call that breaking his legs?” I grouse.

Tony shrugs. “My bad. I could have another go…”

“Probably not worth it now. Shall we go in and have a little chat?”

I don’t suppose there’s a lot he can tell us that we don’t already know from scrolling through his phone messages, but he can fill in the details and maybe pad out the background. More to the point, he deserves to pay for what he tried to do. Fifteen years in the paedo wing at Barlinnie might do the job, but I suspect we can also deliver a more personalised version of justice well enough. And save the taxpayer a lot of money.

I key in the code to unlock the cell door, and we step inside.

Bairstow never really got a clear sight of me on the day we interrupted his kidnap attempt, but he takes one look at Tony and pales.

“You.” he snarls.

“Nice seeing you again. It’s been a while.”

Tony saunters towards him and, sensibly, Bairstow backs off. He waggles one crutch at the pair of us in some sort of attempt to threaten us, while he uses the other to prop himself upright.

“Who said he could keep those?” I ask.

“Search me.” Tony angles around and suddenly kicks out to send the crutch Bairstow is leaning on flying across the cell.

Bairstow lets out a yowl as his weight is flung onto his other leg, but he somehow regains his balance and glares at us.

“Who the fuck are you? What do you want? I’m under police protection, I am…”

“I don’t see any police here. Do you?” My tone is deliberately soft. “You never thanked us for getting you out of jail.”

He peers at us in bewilderment, then pales even further when the reality of his situation finally dawns on him.

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