Page 32 of Risk

“Don’t fucking move, arsehole!” a gruff voice whispers to the left of me. “Boss is going to shit rainbows when I tell him that the great Ryder Hawkins is no more. Not only will you be dead and buried, no longer a thorn in his side, but he’ll get his whore back too. I can’t wait to watch that reunion. It won’t be the first time I’ve watched him punish her or joined in the fun.” His words are dripping with unrestrained desire, and my nostrils flare and my lip curls up in rage and disgust. I can’t see the car from this position, but I become aware of an engine running before the car moves off and away. The pieces click in place; the car was a decoy to draw my attention. And I fell for it like a fucking rookie.

The dick behind me shoves the gun harder to my head and tells me to move. As I begin walking, he guides me with one-word directions and a knock to the back of my head every time, that has him snickering.

“She’s a sweet little fuck ain’t she. Don’t be shy, we all know you’ve been screwing her, think there’s even some footage of the two you floating around. Boss wasn’t happy, obviously, but the rest of us wanked over that shit for hours.”

I grind my teeth so fucking hard, I’m pretty sure I crack one. I store that little snippet of information away for later. I’m going to fucking rip this guy apart when I get my hands on him. They’ll have to put him back together like a fucking jigsaw just to identify him, and I’ll enjoy every fucking minute of it.

I keep walking, tuning him out so I don’t lose my shit too soon. I should have listened to my gut; I knew something felt off about this. I fucking knew it. When I spot the car up a head, I know I don’t have long to make my move. But the moron with a gun to my head is actually cleverer than I gave him credit for. As we approach, the driver’s side door opens and out steps dead man walking number two.

“In the back, and mind your head,” he mocks, and then slams my head on the roof as I go to slide in. My vision darkens for a second, but he’ll have to hit me harder than that to knock me out. Prick! He shoves me the rest of the way in, climbing in after me. The driver gets back in, starting the engine as corpse numero uno grabs a roll of duct tape from the footwell and begins to tape my hands together. God, these guys are amateurs.

As we pull out of the yard, we turn left heading towards Barking Power Station, but we turn off the road onto an industrial estate just before it. Pulling up outside a warehouse, numero uno steps out shutting the door before walking round to meet the driver as he climbs out too. The door locks click into place, and keeping my eyes on the two men, I lower my hands at the same time as lifting my left leg and pull out the compact spring assisted knife I keep there. The guys are still talking, and the driver looks pissed about something, waving his hands around animatedly. I close my fist around the knife just as the driver opens my door, shoving a hand inside and pulling me from the car.

I allow him to drag me into the warehouse, and as the light is flicked on, dust motes float in the air disturbed by our feet. The warehouse is empty except a single chair and several large crates stacked in one corner of the room.

I’m pushed onto the lone chair as numero uno stands to the right of me, his gun pointed at my temple. I wait them out, let’s see what these fucking clowns have up their sleeves. The driver stands in front of me, a wiry guy with slicked back black hair and arms covered in tattoos.

“Boss wants his whore back, and you dead, but we thought we’d have a little fun with you first,” he says, stepping forward and landing a punch to the left side of my jaw. My head whips to the side as the metallic tang of blood fills my mouth, and I spit it on the floor before turning back to him with a small smile on my lips.

“That all you got?” I ask, goading him on. “I know girls that hit harder than you,” I scoff at him. His eyes spark with fury, his lip twitching as the anger at my mocking bubbles up inside him. He steps forward again, this time landing one on my nose and blood shoots out, filling the back of my throat and cutting off my air for a second.

I don’t get time to provoke him further, as the hits keep coming; another to my jaw, to my ribs and finally an uppercut that has my teeth clashing together and my brain rattling. Catching my breath at last, I let out a roaring laugh that echoes through the empty warehouse. From the corner of my eye I watch numero uno lift the gun ready to pistol whip me as I continue to laugh, and at the last second I raise my arms, swinging to the right and knocking the gun from his hand. Caught off guard, I flick the knife out as I leap from the chair, swiping out and catching his cheek. He screeches, grabbing his face in his hand as blood seeps between his fingers, dripping down his neck and body. Within seconds his t-shirt is soaked through.

Turing quickly, I see the driver stepping back, his face ashen white. I spin the knife round and cut through the duct tape holding my hands as I stalk towards him. The moment the tape drops to the floor, the driver bolts for the door, but he’s not quick enough. I grab his neck from behind, squeezing the pressure point I know is there.

“Fuck you, man. Boss is gonna make you fucking pay for this,” he shouts out, as I drag him back to the chair and his friend, who has passed out on the floor. Guess I must have cut him deeper than I thought. Oops.

“Now, it’s my turn to have some fun,” I tell him, as I throw him to the floor, and the beast inside licks his lips at the blood that’s going to run tonight.

Wipingthe blood from my hands, I pull out my phone and call Sully. I don’t give a shit that it’s almost 5am. It only rings a couple of times before he answers.

“Sully, I need a clean up crew at the industrial estate near the power station. I’ll text you the address,” I tell him, my voice an octave higher than normal from the adrenaline pumping in my veins. I haven’t felt this wired since my last tour in the army five years ago, and the night I lost six men.

“What the fuck, Blue?” he grumbles. “This was supposed to be recon, observation only. What the hell happened?” His voice is muffled slightly, no doubt from him dressing as he talks.

“It was a fucking set-up. Just get your arse down here.” I end the call before he can ask any more questions. He’s going to go postal on my arse when he sees the mess I just made of these two pricks.

I send the address to Sully, then a message to Seb, telling him to sweep my apartment and Jamie’s house. That bastard’s been watching us the whole fucking time, but the more important question is how?

Half an hour later Sully comes storming through the warehouse door like his arse is on fire, coming to a grinding halt when he sees me.

“Fuck me!” he mutters, as his eyes rove over the scene in front of him before coming to rest on me. I’m sat on the chair, naked from the waist up, with blood splatter covering every inch of my skin. “If you wanted a part in a horror movie, you should have said, I could’ve hooked you up,” he quips, taking measured steps towards me and avoiding the blood covering the floor. “So, you want to tell me what happened?”

“Later. We have more important things to worry about,” I declare, rising from my chair and shoving a phone into his hand as I pass him. “You need to watch that. I need a fucking shower, then we’ll talk.” I exit the warehouse just as the crew arrives, and by the time I make it to Sully’s car he’s bursting out the door after me.

“How is this possible, Blue? How the fuck does he have footage of you and Cam screwing?” he asks, as he reaches me.

“Simple, Sully. We have a fucking mole,” I grit out, before getting in the car.

Back at Sully’s,I have the fucking hottest shower possible without scolding myself so badly I’ll need a trip to A&E, then dress in some spare clothes I always keep here. What the fuck was I thinking? Oh, yeah, I wasn’t, again. My head is fucked right now. I don’t regret slicing those fuckers up, especially numero uno after all the shit he spouted about Cam, and when I found that footage of us at my apartment on his phone, I thought I was going to explode with the need for vengeance. He was already dead, but I took great pleasure in going back, cutting his dick off and shoving it down his throat. Since leaving the army I’ve worked hard at keeping my demons locked up, but there wasn’t anything in this world that could have stopped me tonight.

I find Sully in the lounge, a file sitting on the coffee table, alongside two cups of tea and a plate of bacon sandwiches. Taking the seat opposite him, I grab my tea and a sandwich. Knowing I need the food despite my stomach roiling as soon as the smell hit me on the way down the stairs.

“Before we go into what went down at the warehouse, I also have something to tell you. You’re not going to like it, but I had my reasons, which won’t mean much right no—”

“Just fucking spit, it out, Sully,” I growl at him around a mouthful of sandwich.

“I got a call this afternoon,” I go to stand but Sully waves his hand gesturing for me stay sitting, and I see in his eyes that Cam is fine, “from a cop in Manchester. They identified the guy from the hotel, found him dead at his house. That’s the file there, nothing much to go on; lives on his own, not married and no kids, likes to gamble, a little too much, so that could be something to look at. He’s bound to owe someone money, which means he’d be desperate enough to work off his debt or do a job for a decent amount of money.”

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