Page 74 of Pit

“What about the pictures you took with Mark, are they still there?” I open my pictures and shake my head. I don’t remember taking pictures either, but Anita seems certain. “I put a picture of us all on my social media, and within twenty minutes, Atlas and Pit showed up. It wasn’t a coincidence, Te. And if he didn’t like you so much, why would he care enough to make sure he erases your pictures so you don’t recall Mark and deletes the number so you can’t contact him? He cockblocked you.”

I try to hide my smile, but it breaks through. I’m glad he did. I wouldn’t have called Mark anyway or hooked up with him. “I’ve been texting Pit every day. He never replies.”

“So, text him now and tell him you know everything. He’ll soon come running, and if he doesn’t, tell him you’re meeting up with Mark despite his attempt to sabotage you. That’ll definitely get his attention.”

Pit

“We’ve been watching this shithole for the last twelve hours. He clearly isn’t here,” Atlas complains.

We’d knocked on several doors at the top of the street before we were pointed in the direction of Greg Dean’s house. The elderly lady who gave him up insisted we have tea and cake withher, much to Atlas’s annoyance, but it paid off because she told us all kinds of stuff about her annoying neighbour. She definitely didn’t hold back.

“Maybe someone tipped him off,” I suggest.

I start my bike up just as the elderly neighbour rushes over holding a piece of paper. “Mister Daykin from around the corner just spotted him going into the local pub,” she yells over the engine. I take the paper and smile.

“You’re a legend,” I tell her. “Thanks.”

The pub is just around the corner. We dismount and head inside. “Two whiskeys,” I tell the barman, who eyes our kuttes warily.

I glance around the empty bar. There’re only two men in the entire place, and one of those is far too young to be Tessa’s father. We take our drinks and head over to the older man. It’s obvious the years haven’t been kind to him as he drags his eyes up to watch as we take a seat opposite him. “We’ve been looking for you,” I tell him.

He stares at the badge on my kutte. “Pit,” he says, like the word leaves a bad taste in his mouth. “I don’t owe nothing. I cleared all my debt.”

“Greg, right?” I ask.

He sneers. “Well, son, if you aren’t sure of my name, I certainly ain’t gonna tell yah.”

“Greg,” calls the barman, and he groans, “don’t forget to clear your tab before you leave or the boss will string me up.”

I smirk. “Let me get that for you.” I head back to the bar, pulling out my wallet. “What’s he owe?”

“A tonne,” he tells me, and I give a low whistle while I count the notes out and lay them on the bar. “For a week,” he adds, shaking his head with disappointment.

“It’s clear he’s got a problem,” I mutter. “Why do you keep serving him?”

“He goes way back with the landlord. Besides, when we refuse, he gets all aggressive, and we can’t be arsed with the fight. Why you paying it anyway? Do you know him?”

I shake my head. “No.” I place another two hundred on the bar. “What’s the CCTV like in here?”

He glances around nervously. “It’s not working.”

“Is that for real, or are you lying to me?”

“For real. The boss don’t like eyes everywhere. He’s not exactly law abiding.”

I slide the money closer. “We were never here, right?”

He scoops it. “My lips are sealed.”

I head back over to the table. “One hundred, cleared.”

“Who the fuck are you?” Greg spits.

“We’re gonna go for a little walk,” I say. “Get up.”

“No fucking way,” he snaps. “What do you want?”

“I have a message from Tessa,” I say, heading for the door. “Bring him,” I tell Atlas.

---