Page 40 of Bully's Darkness
My eyes reach hers. “You know I can’t.”
A sob escapes her, and she rushes to me, grabbing my arms desperately. “Yes, you can. They’ll come back at you for last night, but you don’t have to do anything else. I won’t message him. I won’t ever speak to him again. Just walk away.”
I want to laugh, to tell her how stupid and naïve she’s being. “Do you think I wanted this, Liv?” I ask. There’s so much fear, I can hardly catch a breath. “That I wanted you to be caught up in this? That I want you anywhere near it?”
“You get to decide—”
I slam my hand against the tree, and she cries out in surprise, flinching. “If I don’t fight back, Liv, shall I tell you what will happen?” I yell. “They’ll kill us. Me, Taz, Boss . . . they’ll wipe us out like we’re nothing and they’ll take everything. Every shipment, every weapon from here to Russia, will be in their hands. An entire lifetime’s work for this club gone because you couldn’t follow my fucking rules.” She gasps, not bothering to swipe her tears away as they trickle down her cheeks. “So, don’t ask me to sit by while they taunt me by using my own. Fucking. Wife.”
I drop her mobile to the ground and crush it under my boot, the satisfaction easing my anger. “This life willalwayscome with blood,” I warn, pinching her chin in my fingers and forcing her to look me in the eye. “I didn’t start this, Liv, but I’ll burn every fucking piece of them down if it keeps you safe.”
The clubhouse is thick with smoke and tension. The door shuts behind me, muffling the outside world as my brothers gather for church. Misty jumps down from my chair, a spot she seems to frequent like she’s keeping it warm for me.
“Alright, talk to me,” I say, cutting through the weight in the air.
“There’s still a heavy presence,” says Boss. “If anything, they’ve increased their movements.”
“The fact they’re not hiding doesn’t mean they ain’t scared,” says Taz, tapping his lighter on the table.
“He reached out to Liv,” I mutter, and all eyes fix on me. “Texted her,” I add. “I should’ve took her mobile, but I didn’t think, and that’s on me.”
“When?” asks Taz, his expression full of anger.
“Half-hour ago.”
“What did he say?” asks Boss.
“Checking in with her.” I give a cold, empty laugh and push to stand in irritation. I pace behind my chair. “Imagine that, he’s checking in onmyold lady, like it’s his fucking job.” I shake my head.
“He’s taking the piss,” mutters Taz.
“Did anything come back on his associates?” I ask.
We all look over to Whizz, who’s hunched over his laptop, his eyes bloodshot and his fingers twitching over the keys like he’s trying to crack the devil’s own vault. He doesn’t look up, just tilts the screen towards me. “Yeah, you’re gonna want to sit back down for this.”
He clicks open a series of folders. Screenshots. Spreadsheets. Names. Numbers.
“Shit, Whizz, have you been at this all night?” asks Taz.
“You wanted answers, I’ve got them,” he mutters, his brow furrowed as he opens the folder he wants us to see. “I started by checking payments. There’re loads connected to the Scorpions’ affiliated businesses, but I focussed on the UK ones first. There’s a fake security company just out of Manchester. It doesn’t run guards, it runs money.” He pulls up a map and pins stretch across it like bullet holes. “They’re laundering through their strip clubs, which we pretty much suspected, but they also have betting shops and a fake construction company. But the money trail gets interesting here,” he taps the screen, “when it jumps offshore.”
“Where to?” Boss asks, leaning closer to see the screen.
“Malta, Belize, and back to London. The loop is tight. Clean. Would’ve missed it if I hadn’t cross-referenced transaction times.”
I nod once. “So, what are they hiding?”
“Guns, for sure. Maybe drugs. But after looking at this empire, I reckon they’re just using that to throw us off. Make us think they’re no real threat to our business. But in the background, they’re shifting weapons, ready to make a move when they bring us down.” He takes a deep breath, releasing it slowly as he clicks open another folder. “Here’s the kicker. See this shell company?” He zooms in on one labelled ‘Griffin Holdings Ltd.’ “It’s been wiring payments to a third-party logistics company . . . that also did work with a buyer we sold bikes to last year.”
I freeze. “Are you saying they’re trying to pin us for their shit?”
“I’m saying there’s a trail that looks like we’ve done business with them. Whether it’s staged or not, I don’t know yet, but it puts us in the firing line if the heat turns up.”
I lean over the desk, eyes narrowing. “Anyone in our crew tied to those payments?”
“Still working on that, Pres. They’ve a shit tonne to go through.”
“You need extra eyes?”
