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Freddie quickly swallowed down his scotch, before he choked on it. “Keep your fucking voice down.”

  Lee was the picture of innocence. “What?” he asked, shrugging his shoulders.

  Having Lee around was beginning to take his toll on Freddie. He was becoming a liability. That big mouth of his never shut up, and it was going to end up getting the both of them into trouble, sooner or later.

  “We don’t talk about that in public,” he said, looking around, checking that no one else was within earshot. He kept his voice neutral, low. More than anything, he was treading carefully. The last thing he needed, was for Lee to start blabbing out his business.

  Lee gave a cocky grin. “I didn’t realise it was such a big secret.”

  Freddie had heard just about enough. He grabbed Lee by the scruff of the neck and dragged him outside the snooker hall. “Let’s get something straight, you little cunt,” he hissed, as he pushed him up against the outside wall. “Despite what you might think, you still work for me. That means you keep that cunting trap of yours shut. One more sly remark from you, and I’ll cut that bastard tongue out of your fucking head myself, do you understand me?”

  Shaken up, Lee nodded his head. “All right, Fred, I was only joking.”

  “Do I look like I’m fucking laughing? I need your idea of a joke, like I need a hole in the head. I mean it, Lee. One more fucking word, and I’m seriously going to lose my rag with you.”

  Straightening out his T-shirt, Lee was contrite. “I’m sorry. I don’t want any agg with you, Fred. It was a joke, that’s all. I didn’t think you’d be so touchy.”

  “You didn’t think I’d be so touchy? You do realise what we do is not considered fucking normal, don’t you? That’s without mentioning that it’s highly fucking illegal. If anyone gets wind of it, there’ll be hell to pay. Do you even have any comprehension of what happens to people like you and me in the nick?”

  Lee understood exactly what happened to people like them. When he’d been inside, he’d seen first-hand what was dished out. It had happened right in front of his very own two eyes. It hadn’t been pretty, and even to this day, he could still hear the poor bloke’s screams.

  He shuddered. He didn’t plan on going back to prison any time soon. He hadn’t had the best of times in there as it was. Belmarsh had been the worst. He couldn’t wait to get out of that shithole. He wasn’t well liked, that was the problem. He had a big mouth and couldn’t be trusted to keep it shut. If they weren’t pushing him around, they were giving him a wide berth—Billy No Mates, they called him, and that was just the screws.

  “I said I’m sorry. What more can I say?”

  “What you can do, is learn to keep that mouth of yours shut, before you end up getting us both nicked.”

  “I will do. I swear.”

  Freddie narrowed his eyes. “Okay,” he said, giving Lee the benefit of the doubt. “Tell me the latest news on McKay.”

  Relieved to be back on neutral ground, Lee gave Freddie a quick rundown. “The bastard is back out of the hospital now, living the life of riley with Moray Garner, by all accounts.”

  “Time to step up the game then.”

  Grinning, Lee nodded his head. “McKay and that didicoy pikey bastard, Garner, are gonna wish they’d never messed with me.” It was said with a confident air, and Lee thoroughly believed what he was saying to be true.

  Chapter 14

  Moray was starting to become worried. Danny had been on the missing list for more than forty-eight hours. No one had seen hide nor hair of him. He wasn’t even answering his phone. Knowing just how much of a workaholic Danny was, the fact that he hadn’t shown his face, was highly unusual. In normal circumstance, he couldn’t stay away from the club, and would check in at least two or three times, every day.

  Standing outside the grey apartment building, Moray tapped in a three-digit number on the intercom system, then pressed call. When there was no answer, he pressed the trades button. Much to his surprise, the door unlocked. He walked across the foyer, then took the lift to the third floor.

  He knocked on the front door, silently willing Danny to answer. Where the fuck was he? He thumped on the wooden door once again, only harder this time. He was hoping this was simply just a case of his mate shacking up with some random bird for the weekend, even though he knew that wasn’t Danny’s usual style. But seeing as it was Danny, let’s face it, anything was possible.

  “Can I help you, dear?”

  Moray turned to his side. With all the banging he’d been doing, he hadn’t heard Danny’s neighbour open her front door. In fact, he was surprised he hadn’t knocked the door off of its hinges, he’d hammered on it that hard.

  “I’m looking for my mate. Have you seen him at all?”

  Sandra Morely smiled. “He’s definitely inside. I’ve heard him moving around.”

  Glancing at the front door, Moray turned back to Sandra. “Are you sure?”

  “Oh yes, I’m quite certain.”

  Moray thanked the woman and knocked again. Lifting up the letterbox, he called through the tiny gap. “Danny, open up. I know you’re in there. If you haven’t opened this door within thirty seconds, I’m sending the boys around to smash it open.”

  He straightened up as the door was flung open. “Jesus, Danny,” he said, wrinkling his nose. The stench of stale booze wafted out of the door. It smelt worse than the club on a Sunday morning, and that was saying something.

  “What do you want?”

  “Well, to be invited inside would be nice, unless you’re going to make me stand out here all day.”

  Danny moved aside, giving Moray enough space to squeeze through the tiny gap.

  Looking around him, Moray took in the empty brandy bottles. “What the fuck is going on in here?”

  Barefoot and dressed in just a pair of grey jogging bottoms and a T-shirt, he shrugged his shoulders. “What does it look like?”

  “I don’t know? That’s why I’m asking.”

  “I’m done with that bitch, and unless I sit in here doing fuck all, I’m gonna end up doing some serious bird,” Danny answered, as he flopped down heavily onto the sofa. He took a swig from the brandy bottle, and continued. “I’m taking your advice,” he said, stabbing the bottle forward. “I’m keeping schtum, instead of breaking both of their fucking necks, the no good bastards. I fucking knew it. I knew this would happen. I knew I should have buried that wanker while I had the chance.”

  “What the fuck are you going on about?”

  Danny looked across to Moray, his eyes flashed dangerously. “I blame you for this. You were the one who stopped me. You, with your high and mighty fucking morals. Well, you weren’t so high and fucking mighty, once upon a time though, were you? Or have you conveniently forgotten all about that? I know you, remember,” Danny spat. He stabbed the bottle toward Moray for a second time, oblivious to the alcohol that slopped over the sides, staining his jogging bottoms. “I know all of your dirty little secrets. I know, because I was there with you, and trust me, you ain’t no saint. And you’ve got the audacity to stand there and question what I do, treating me like I’m some naughty little kid? You’re always on at me in my fucking earhole, that’s your problem—don’t do this, don’t do fucking that. Well, bollocks to you, and all. You’re as bad as she is, looking down your nose at me, like your own shit don’t stink. Well, trust me, it fucking does,” he said, giving a bitter laugh.

  Moray was taken aback. For the first time in a long time, he was actually speechless. He eyed his mate cautiously. He had absolutely no idea of what he was even talking about. He was making no sense at all, and was obviously in a world of his own.

  He watched Danny through narrowed eyes, unable to tell if he was pissed, or if he’d actually taken some kind of narcotic. Noting the amount of brandy bottles lined up on the coffee table, he took a wild guess at him being pissed, or maybe even both. Who fucking knew? The only thing he knew for sure, was that Danny McKay had finally, completely and utterly, lost the fuckin
g plot.

  Walking across to the window, Moray pulled back the heavy curtain. Immediately, Danny squinted and covered his eyes, as sunlight streamed in. “Close the curtain,” he growled.

  “Not until you’ve told me what’s going on, and how all of this, whatever the fuck it is, is my fault?”

  “You should have let me finish that cunt off. So go on, just fuck off, back to where you came from, and leave me alone. I need to be by myself. I need to think all of this shit through.”

  Moray frowned. This was so unlike Danny. In the twenty years he’d known him, he’d never seen him behave like this before, and to be perfectly honest, it wasn’t just unnerving, it was downright scary. What the hell was going on inside that head of his?

  Now that the curtain was open, he could see his mate much better, and just one glance in his direction, was enough to tell him that he clearly hadn’t showered or shaved in days—if the dark stubble across his jaw line was anything to go by. “You need to sober up, shower and have a shave. Come on,” he said, yanking Danny up to his feet.

  Pushing Moray away from him, Danny hurled out abuse. “Just fuck off, Moray. I told you to get out of here and leave me the fuck alone. What are you still doing here, eh? Go on, fuck off.”

  Moray wasn’t concerned by Danny’s words. The first advantage, when working on the doors, was that they were pissed and you were sober. He treated Danny as though he was one of their customers, and half dragged him into the bathroom.

  “Get in that fucking shower now, otherwise, I’ll throw you in there and hose you down myself, fully clothed or not,” he growled, as he twisted on the shower tap. “I mean it, mate. Don’t tempt me not to follow this through, because you know full well, I will.”

  Danny was about to open his mouth to speak, when Moray took a step toward him, his large frame dominating the bathroom. “Seriously, Danny, don’t fucking tempt me. I’m not in the mood for all of this shit from you today, and if you want it to come to blows, then trust me, I’ll give back twice as good as anything you attempt to throw my way. Now, get in that fucking shower.”

  Moray waited outside the bathroom door, until he could hear Danny undressing and then step into the shower cubicle, before walking through to the kitchen. He’d known, without a doubt, that Danny wouldn’t physically lash out at him. In all the years they’d known each other, not once had it ever come to blows between them. At the end of the day, they had too much respect for one another, for it to ever come to that. Flicking the switch on the kettle, he took out two mugs, and heaped in two generous spoonful’s of coffee granules.

  Thirty minutes later, Danny emerged from the shower. Moray could see he was freshly shaved and that he looked relatively like his old self, other than his eyes, which were still red and blood shot. He passed over a steaming mug of black coffee, just how Danny liked it, and watched as his mate sipped at the scalding liquid.

  “Feeling better?” he asked. He waited for Danny to nod his head, then asked the burning question that was at the forefront of his mind. “So, what the fuck is going on? C’mon, spit it out.”

  Danny paused, before speaking. He leaned back against the kitchen counter and folded his arms across his chest. It hurt him to even say the words out loud. “She’s pregnant.”

  Moray raised his eyebrows. Surely that was something to celebrate?

  Taking note of Moray’s expression, Danny explained himself further. “She reckons it’s not mine.”

  To say Moray was stunned, was an understatement. He didn’t know what to say in return. No wonder his mate was in such a state. “You’re joking,” he finally managed to utter.

  “I’m hardly going to make up something like that, am I? I might be a lot of things, but I’m not sick in the head.”

  “How the fuck can it not be yours? You’ve been separated less than a month.”

  Danny shrugged his shoulders. “She reckons the dates don’t add up, or something like that.” He let out a long sigh. “I don’t know to be honest, mate, I can’t get my head around it all.”

  Moray could barely believe what he was hearing “So, then,” he asked, “if it’s not yours, then who’s is it?”

  A flicker of anger crossed Danny’s features.

  The colour drained from Moray’s face. “Not that prick from the club?”

  “Yep, got it in one.” Danny nodded his head.

  “I’m so sorry, mate. I don’t know what to say to you.”

  “There’s nothing you can say, is there? It’s already happened. She’s pregnant, and that no good wanker is the father.”

  Danny could feel the hard lump form in his throat once again, and he swallowed it down. He wouldn’t cry. He was determined of that. He might smash the place up, or drink himself into a stupor, maybe even do both, but he wouldn’t cry. He was a man, and in their world, men didn’t blubber like babies.

  Taking a seat at the kitchen table, Moray rested his forearms on his knees. “As a mate, I’m gonna give you some advice. You can’t sit cooped up in here for days on end, drinking yourself into oblivion. It isn’t healthy. You need to get back to work, mate … focus on something else. Moping around in this flat isn’t going to change the situation, is it? The only person you’re hurting is yourself.”

  Danny could see the truth in Moray’s words. It was just so bloody difficult for him to even think straight at the moment. “I’ll be back tomorrow, probably. I just need to sort myself out.”

  “No probably about it. I want you back to work, tonight.”

  Danny sighed and nodded his head. There was no point in arguing. Moray was like a dog with a bone, once he’d set his mind to something.

  “You’ll feel better for it, trust me. It’ll take your mind off all of the other shit you’ve got going on.”

  More than anything, he needed Danny back in his right frame of mind. What with the news of Lee’s release, they had things to discuss. Now was not the right time, though. It could wait. After all, the man had already been out of prison for a year, so waiting another day or two wouldn’t hurt.

  “Come on, get dressed. I’ll take you down to the café. You need to eat something to sober you up and mop up all of that booze you’ve consumed.”

  * * *

  Terry Stevens was no fool. He’d heard his Hayley creep out of bed and pad across the bedroom floor. He opened one eye, watching as she’d picked up her mobile phone and then crept out of the room. She was up to something, he was sure of it.

  He threw the duvet away from him, swung his legs over the side of the bed, then tip toed out of the bedroom and down the hallway. From his advantage point at the top of the stairs, he could see down into the kitchen. He could see his wife on her phone, whispering into it.

  Bless her, with his birthday fast approaching, he guessed she was planning a surprise for him, something grand and over the top, if he knew his Hayley well, which just so happened to be the case.

  He gave a little cough, and made his way down the stairs. He watched her hastily switch her phone off, and had to stop himself from bursting out laughing. He’d caught her red-handed.

  “Morning, sweetheart,” he grinned.

  Kissing Terry on his lips, Hayley’s cheeks were flushed bright pink. She popped two slices of bread into the toaster, turning her back on her husband, so she could compose herself. He’d almost caught her on the phone to Adam.

  “I was thinking of arranging a birthday meal, with the lads I work with and their wives and girlfriends. What do you reckon?”

  Alarmed, Hayley bit down on her lip. How could she go out for a meal with them all now, after what happened in the restaurant with Adam? “Sounds perfect, baby,” she forced herself to grin.

  Terry chuckled inside. She was a good actress and he wanted to throw her off the scent that he’d guessed she was planning a party for him. “Okay, well, I’ll leave my credit card with you, and let you arrange it all. You’re better at that sort of thing than me.”

  Hayley gave a small smile. She could think of
nothing worse, than being stuck in some poxy restaurant with the man she’d had an altercation with. What if the bloke with the scar running down his cheek, told Terry about Adam? Not to mention, she would have to meet Danny McKay. The very thought of being in his company, after using his name to get her own way, terrified her.

  “I’ll get on to it, babe. Leave everything to me.”

  Terry smiled, satisfied. God love his Hayley. She was the perfect woman.

  * * *

  Dressed in dark blue jeans and a white shirt, Danny felt a lot more human than he had that morning, and after splashing a generous amount of aftershave over himself, he smelt a lot better, too. He walked purposely across the empty dance floor toward the stairs leading up to the offices.

  Moray was right. He needed to be back at work. He needed something to take his mind off of Maxine. Eight missed calls he’d had from her. He knew nothing was wrong with little Danny. He’d listened to her voicemails, telling him she was sorry he’d found out about the pregnancy the way he had. Well, bollocks to her now. From this moment on, she meant nothing to him, and he certainly wasn’t interested in her being pregnant. As long as his son was okay, then he was happy. Little Danny was the only person who mattered to him.

  “Danny, have you got a minute?”

  Danny stopped and turned around, as Big Tone walked toward him. “Yeah.”

  “I was talking to Mick Johnson. He was wondering if you had any work going for him?”

  Weighing it up, Danny chewed on the inside of his cheek. How many more of Freddie’s men were going to end up jumping ship. He looked up to where the offices were situated. Really, he should run it through with Moray first. They were meant to be making decisions together. “Tell him to come and see me tomorrow. I can’t promise anything, mind.”

  “Cheers, Danny. I’ll do that.”

  Danny watched, as the big man walked away, then carried on his way, up to the office. As he was nearing, Moray waved out to him.