Page 27 of Heart of a Devil

“Mr. Donovan is a scum-sucking gangster, a cunt, and a thieving bastard.”

I’ve been called worse, but Taylor takes offense on my behalf. In a flash, he’s across the room and has Jimmy pinned to the wall by his throat, the lad’s body dangling from one meaty paw, feet kicking.

“You gonna behave, or do I have to crush your windpipe?” Taylor says, and I have to admit it—I’m impressed. He sounds deadly serious, and Jimmy waves his arms in surrender. Taylor drops him to the floor and turns to me. “Should I give him a kicking, Boss?”

I shake my head. “No. That’s not why I’m here.”

“Why are you here?” Frank says, ignoring Jimmy’s spluttering while his brother helps him to his feet. “I thought I explained everything to Alex and Jacob. We need a few more days.”

“Don’t worry, Frank, they did tell me. I just wanted to call by and show you something, purely out of courtesy. It was the Carney brothers you borrowed the money from, wasn’t it, Frankie? Now, as your delightful progeny here pointed out, some people see me as a gangster, a meathead, and a thieving bastard—but next to the Carneys, mate, I am a fucking angel. Here. Take a look. You too, boys.”

I pull up a video on my phone and place it on the desk. An associate of mine sent the video my way. Leverage. It’s not a pretty watch, showing as it does a gang of men beating a teenaged boy with lead pipes. The kid is curled up in a ball trying to protect his head, and his mum is screaming off to the side, held back by two other heavies. By the time they finish, the boy’s face is a mush of broken teeth, exposed bone, and blood, and the empty look in his eyes leaves no doubt that he’s either dead or near to it. The camera turns to the mum, a middle-aged blond woman with tears pouring down her face. One of the men slaps her hard, and when she falls to the floor, he kicks her in the stomach with a steel-toed boot. While she’s writhing in pain, he drags down her leggings and shoves one of the lead pipes he used to beat her son inside her. Her screams fill the room, and the man who did it to her holds up the blood-coated pipe to the camera, showing it off. He, like all of them, is wearing a balaclava, but I know it’s Darren Carney. They do too.

“You have two kids left, and your wife’s still alive,” he says to the camera. “Get us our money by the end of the week or that all changes, you cunt.”

There’s a stunned silence in the office, and Frank in particular looks shaken, his hand trembling as he reaches for a mug on his desk.

“That,” I say, swallowing down the bitter acid that burns the back of my throat, “is what happened to one of their clients when they were late paying up. That was Carney’s version of a warning notice. Now, it’s entirely up to you if you want to back out of our deal, Frankie. If you do, I will walk away, no hard feelings. Maybe the Carneys will have found God by this time next week. Who can say?”

“Don’t listen to him, Dad. We have no clue who that was, and it could all be fake anyway.” Jimmy is really starting to irritate me now. He’s like a buzzing little fly in the corner of your vision—essentially harmless but needing a good swat.

Frank is pale, and Kenny stares at him with horror in his eyes. From what I’ve heard, Kenny is the creative, the one who masterminded the menus and the decor and all that good stuff. He won’t have the stomach for any of this.

“Okay,” Frank finally says, blinking slowly as he makes his decision. “You’ve got your deal. I’ll have the papers to you by the end of the day.”

“Wonderful, Frank—and I’m a man of my word. The cash will be with you as agreed. Right. Now, I’ll leave you to your day.”

On our way out, I stop by Chantal’s desk. She’s staring at us with open interest now, obviously wondering why we’re really here. “Why don’t you like him?” I ask. “Jimmy? And don’t worry, you can speak freely—he won’t be in charge much longer.”

She pulls a disgusted face and says, “He’s a peeper. He’s got cameras all over the place, including in the ladies’ loo. We only found out when there was a leak and the plumber came across them. The sicko had been watching us pee for god knows how long. He’s fucking disgusting, he is.”

I nod. I couldn’t agree more. “Thanks for telling me. Now, before we go, my lad Taylor here is going to write down his number for you. He’s new in town and is looking to make some friends, find some new hobbies.”

She looks him up and down in admiration. “I’d guess his main hobby is going the gym, but yeah, okay, why not?”

I let Taylor drive us back because I have a few calls to make. I don’t like the sense of threat I feel circling us at the moment, and I need to take action. I’m not a subtle man, and I’ve always believed the best thing to do with threats is face them head on. Then burn them with fire.

Chapter

Fourteen

LAUREN

At my kitchen table, I go through a few files, reply to some queries, and confirm a couple meetings. I inherited some of Samantha’s clients and have familiarized myself with their cases. One of them, Patrick Galway, has emailed her asking for a face-to-face to discuss custody arrangements of his kids after a nasty divorce. She already successfully brokered an agreement, but apparently his ex isn’t playing fair.

Sam gave me her notes, along with her more personal assessment—lovely bloke, wants the best for the children, wife is a piece of work.She did the same with all her ongoing cases, and I smile as I read through the comments. It’s like having an abridged version of her in the room with me.

Work is busy, which is good. I don’t do well with too much free time. Eventually, I reread what I have so far on Caroline Volkov, who is now officially a client. She wants to take it slow, be sure of every step, and that’s difficult to navigate—I’d much rather act quickly and get her out, but it has to be her decision. I read the pages of notes, shaking my head at the abuse she’s suffered.

We got pictures of some lingering bruises the last time she was in the office, and of course, we have Nicky’s broken arm. She’s understandably reluctant to involve him, though, and doesn’t want to put him through the trauma of testifying against his own father. That would also make him more of a threat and paint a target on his back. Caroline, like most good mothers, is happy to wear that target all by herself if it helps protect her child.

Seb gave Caroline a burner phone and has prepared a safe house for them if they need to flee, but for the time being, the bastard causing all this trouble is still away traveling on business. Probably the kind of business that involves women and children being illegally moved around the globe in cramped shipping containers. For now, Caroline feels safe and wants to maintain some normality for her son while she decides what to do next. We all know that once we file the legal papers and Ivan finds out, that safety will evaporate, and we’ll have to carefully choreograph the timing to extract them before shit hits the fan. It’s good knowing that Seb and Archangel will be there to help with that. Much as I might rail against any restrictions on my own freedom, when it comes to my clients, safety comes first.

I head to my personal email account using the encrypted browser that Jax got me to install on my laptop and work my way through the usual selection of shopping offers, spam, and ticket sales websites. Damn, I think, these things work—I’m seconds away from buying tickets to seeWickedfor like the tenth time. My sister sent me photos from her holiday in Cabo, and my dentist wants me to schedule an appointment for a checkup. So far, so normal.

There are a few emails from Mamá, which actually landed days ago, before Alejandro contacted me. I’ve spoken to her on the phone since, and she was full of contrition for her maverick ways and the trouble she caused. I suspect she was sneakilyproud of herself until it became obvious that she unintentionally compromised the safety of her precious family.

I click another email open and immediately realize that this is not from my mother. It might be her address, but she would never send me this, not in a million years.

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