Page 59 of Red Retaliation
And God forbid, should more of Red’s men lose their lives defending themselves or the firm, or under his instructions -me- then what position will I find myself in? People could take it upon themselves to retaliate against my family - the very people I’ve done this to protect. The fragile truce Red has agreed to with me will be pointless.
As will this marriage...
What have I achieved aside from making everything worse?
I stare out of the window, blankly watching the London streets pass by as we head back to the Scorpio Lounge - the place I now live.
I wish I could go home - myrealhome, but to a time before I was betrothed to Roberto and any of this happened. If it were possible to rewind, I’d tell my parents and myself that, despite what they thought best, being married to Roberto and playing the “dutiful wife” would set off an unmendable chain of events. I’d tell my younger self that regardless of what I think, I’m strong enough to stand up for whatIbelieve to be right,even if I’m banished from my family.
That’s what will end up happening, but now with a host of additional costs gathered along the way.
I don’t want to do this. I want to beanywherebut here. I don’t want to be married to Red Bateman or bring more trouble down on these people, regardless of how much they hate me.
“I told you it was a risk bringing her to the funeral,” Liam mutters, like I’m invisible, the venom in his voice obvious.
“People need to get used to seeing Arianna with me,” Red says. “The funeral was just the first of those occasions.”
He glances at me, but I pretend I’m not listening, making out my mind is elsewhere. I wish it was, but it’s not.
“I still stand by that she shouldn’t have come,” Liam repeats. “It’s not rocket science to see that Steve’s family blames her.Everybodyblames her. We all know she was the reason he got shot!”
“If I remember rightly, it wasyouwho got him shot!” Red retorts. “If you hadn’t done what you did in the cellar, then...”
“Look! It’s that car again!” Oscar interrupts, covertly peering out of the taxi’s back window.
I want to see what he’s referring to. Anything to steer the conversation away from my horrible experience at the hands of Liam.
“What car?” Leaning into me, Red peers around my head.
I hold my breath as aftershave fills the air. Sitting so close, with his pulse beating through my own body is bad enough, but not the aftershave too. I would rather fester in guilt.
Red turns back to Oscar. “That black one, two cars back? When did you see it before?”
I can tell something is wrong because Red’s entire body tenses, like he’s gearing himself up to strike.
Oscar looks out of the window again. “Yeah, the black one. I saw it when we were on the way to the crem. I’m sure it’s the same car.”
“It’s following us?” Del peers between the men to look out of the window himself.
I pull away from the window. “Wh...?”
“I thought I saw someone I didn’t recognize at the wake too,” Liam adds. “I kept an eye on him, but after the distraction with her...” He gestures towards me, “...I lost sight and didn’t see him again.”
Red takes another quick look out of the back window. “Okay, so we’ll ready ourselves just in case.”
He pulls me towards him, dragging my top half down so I’m draped across his chest. “What are you doing?” I squeak, my head far too close to his groin. “What’s going on?”
My question is answered when I hear one, two and then three guns being cocked. I’m then acutely aware of Red’s hand sliding into his inside breast pocket and something hard moving under my head.
I’ve been resting against a gun. Jesus Christ!
“Fuck! You took guns to a funeral?” I attempt to sit upright, but I’m promptly pushed back down.
“You know I don’t like women using bad language, Arianna!” Red holds me rigid against his chest. “Keep your head down and stay clear of the window.”
Del boots the partition between us and the front of the car. “Get a fucking move on, driver!”
As the taxi accelerates, so does my heart. Red thinks we’re being followed, tailed, watched - whatever you want to call it, and my stomach lurches as I realize who they think is following us. “Is it the... the Bristonis?” I whisper. “Will they repeat what they did that night in the car park and gun someone down?”
