For two days anger festered; a slow boil, showing no signs of dissipating. I could barely temper my rage so stayed out of everyone’s way.  When I thought of Laura and the terrifying ordeal she’d went through, I wanted to hunt the motherfucker down and inflict as much pain on the bastard as he had on her. Then shoot the sick fuck. Made up images based on her details flashed through my mind on an endless loop. Brutal visions of rape and sodomy, her flesh being carved and sliced, made me physically gag many a time.

After she’d poured her heart out for hours, I’d put an exhausted Laura to bed and climbed in behind her until she’d fallen asleep. It was all the comfort I had to give her. I’d crept out of her house and sat at the bottom of her garden, staring out at the water. I tried to comprehend the things she’d told me, figure out what made someone act in such a way. A man who’d professed to love her, put a ring on her finger, no less. I had no answers to assuage me, my head felt utterly replete with too many heinous acts to contend with. I sat there for many hours, only moving when the blue-black sky and fierce damp of the harr coming off the water pushed me to leave.

Today I had things to do I couldn’t put off. I sat in the quasi office listening to workmen shovelling debris into the skip out the back of the property, my head ached, the noise compounding the pain. Even closing the door hadn’t kept the racket at bay. I flicked through a few quotes lying on the desk, determined to have a productive day and put Laura to the back of my mind for a few hours. The urge to check in on her was ever present. I wanted to give her some space, let her come to me, so I resisted the impulse. There was no point pushing myself on her, being suffocated was the last thing either of us needed.

A sharp knock at the door grabbed my attention and a groan rumbled up my throat. I wasn’t expecting anyone; Ryder had taken off somewhere with Taylor again and wouldn’t be back for hours. I grudgingly climbed from my seat, crossed the room and swung the door wide. I shouldn’t have been surprised, I’d expected his visit, was taken off guard anyway. I hadn’t seen this snake in more than eighteen years, time had not been kind to him. His shark like eyes took me in as I drew up to my full height in the doorway, the man having never intimidated me, even as a boy.

“Lucca...” he drawled, “long time.”

Yeah, not long enough in my book.

“I should have figured it wouldn’t take you long to crawl out from under your rock.” I sighed, tamping down my irritation and moving so he could enter. “Come in, I guess.”

Charlie, a shorter man than myself, who went by the name of ‘Boss,’ sauntered into the room. His beady eyes scanned the office as he parked his butt on the chair in front of the desk I was using.

“Have a seat,” I mumbled, hoping he found the plastic chair as uncomfortable as I found his presence.

I sat down opposite him and straightened my posture, my larger stature would be somewhat daunting to most. The man no longer knew me, perhaps it would be an advantage.

“What brings you here?”

No point in beating around the bush where Charlie was concerned. I wanted him out, not to sit and reminisce about days I’d rather forget.

“I heard you were back down this neck of the woods. News travels fast.”

“Cut the crap, Charlie. I haven’t seen you in years for fair reason.”

“Ah, there it is.” His grin was wolfish, sly. “Your father’s bite. I wondered when you’d take on his traits.”

I rolled my eyes at him. I was my father’s son all right, but not in the way many liked. Where Rinaldi senior had lived on the wrong side of the law, I played by the book for the most part. I’d made it a life goal to not walk in my father’s shadow, to not be the legacy he so badly desired. The respectable qualities I’d inherited from him I’d built upon and was a far better man than he had ever been. I was notorious, for all the right reasons.

“Make your point then leave.”

“Your father took my son and my business, Lucca. What do you think my point is?”

“I have nothing of his left, Charlie. The money is gone, you know this. I don’t owe you anything.”

“You still have The Q,” he said.

I huffed at him, tired of the same old shit. “No, The Queen’s is not mine. Again, you know this.”

He sighed and folded his hands over his protruding stomach. He’d always been a portly man, what had been muscle and clout before looked much like over indulgence now. The buttons of the coat he wore strained against the fabric - ill-fitting clothes for an ill-fitting character.

“Tut tut, Lucca. Although I may not be able to see it officially, you and I both know The Q belongs to you.”

He’d done his homework, done some digging. Found things he shouldn’t have been able to find, things that were hidden. It annoyed me that he was still harping on about a hotel he’d never get his hands on, a property he had no rightful claim to. My father had wronged him, not me.

“You’re not getting my hotels.” I snapped at him.

Eyeballing him over the desk, I predicted a battle down the road. It made no sense to show a weakness this early in the game, he would think he could steamroll me into giving up the hotel. I didn’t want that. Charlie was a formidable man, not one to cross. Ryder and I always knew what he’d been getting up to and where he was since the day we left. Keep your enemies close. The fucker didn’t scare me, no matter the violent way he carried out his business.

“Should I ask my son?” He cocked his head at me.

I grunted at the stupid old man. Standing up, I rounded the desk to the door and opened it, silently inviting him to leave. His time was up.

“Let me know when you plan on calling him.” I smirked. “I want a front row seat to that train-wreck.”

He rose from the chair, pulling leather gloves from his overcoat and tapped them against the palm of his hand. Sauntering to me, he stopped in front of my face, clearly not finished with his threats. He still felt he had something over me.

“I heard some things about that beautiful wife of yours.”

There it was.

I closed my eyes knowing I wasn’t going to like what I heard next. There was a reason Stella had come down here, a reason why she’d been quiet, and Charlie was going to tell me. I should have known better. One up, old man, one up.

Charlie’s smile was terse. “She’s been hitting up some of my boys in town. Word is...” he patted my shoulder as he moved past me, “...she wants you dead, boyo. I’d watch my back if I were you, Lucca.”

He was angling for a reaction, right? Well, fuck him. I kept my mouth shut. It was another thing to pile onto the shit list for Ryder and me to deal with another day. His idle gossip was of no concern.  

“I’ll be seeing you.” He halted in the middle of the main room, turning to challenge me. “You tell my son to call me, you hear? I have information he wants.”

* * *

“What the fuck are you doing that for, man?”

Ryder flung himself onto the recliner in the corner of the room and flicked on the TV. I held up a shirt I’d pulled from the box at my feet and arched an eyebrow at him.

“They’re all creased, dude. What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

The iron hissed, and I jumped back in fright, my best friend pissing himself laughing at me. I balled the shirt up and threw the crumpled mess his way. Ryder making no attempt to catch. Lazy arse!

“You’ve got money, Lucca. Hire someone, for Christ’s sake. I’m about to revoke your man card.”

Yeah, I was going to have to hire someone, a housekeeper maybe. Beaufort didn’t have a dry-cleaners, there was no way I could iron these stupid fucking shirts myself. Ryder threw the offending item back and I grumbled as I squinted at the creased cotton. Sighing in defeat, I threw it back into the box. How hard could ironing be? Suffice to say, I was disgusted with my own ineptitude and the simple task of ironing a goddamned shirt.

“You want a beer?”

“Peroni and a spare bed for me, bro?”

He didn’t need to ask. He had a room here, had never stayed in it so far. “You not staying at Taylor’s tonight?”

He shook his head, never taking his attention from whatever was fascinating him on the television. I took a quick peek - football highlights - go figure.

“Nah. She’s staying at Laura’s tonight. Says her sister don’t feel well.”

I snapped my attention to Ryder. “She say what’s wrong with her?”

He switched the volume to mute and gave me his attention. “No, not really. You seen her since the other day?”

“How much has Taylor told you?” I didn’t want to break Laura’s confidence, I was sure few people knew the story and if that was the case I wasn’t happy rehashing it all with Ryder, best mate or not.

“Not that much. Whatever went down was pretty big, I know that much. Sometimes my girl wakes up through the night, you know, crying and shit. Always shouting for Laura.”

It obviously hurts him to see Taylor like that. Maybe hurts him she hasn’t told him everything.

“Yeah, it was Laura’s thing. I can’t go into details. Taylor found her, and it wasn’t pretty. She almost died, Ryder. Her sister saved her life, I think.”

“Shit!” He moved forward in the recliner, placing his elbows on his knees and squinted at me. “A guy involved?”

I moved to sit down on the sofa, mimicking his position. “Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

“Fuck is right, my friend.”

“And the guy?”

What could I tell him? I didn’t have a name, had no clue so I shrugged. He eased back in the chair, his posture still stiff.

“I don’t give a shit what went down as long as it doesn’t come back. I don’t want Taylor running for another fucking eight years. I swear any motherfucker lays a hand on my girl’s head, or Laura’s for that matter, they deal with me and I ain’t playing, Lucca.”

“Charlie was here today.”

While we were on the serious subjects, then felt like as good a time as any to throw it into the conversation. I wanted him off the subject of Laura, before I blurted out the whole sorry saga and betrayed a confidence, rehashed gruesome details I’d rather forget.

“What did the fat fuck want?” Ryder growled.

No love was lost between the pair. Mention of Charlie always wound Ryder up to near boiling point. He would flip his lid regardless, best to spit it out. “Wants you to call him.”

His laugh was exaggerated when he got up from the chair. “Fucking idiot.” The curse was a mumble as he walked past me. He threw a piece of paper into my lap from over my shoulder.

“Taylor asked me to give you this.”

I picked up the paper and read the words. Well, numbers really. A grin split my face when I saw the cursive writing and her name - Laura. It was her phone number.

“Why?”

“Taylor thought her sister might need a friend.”

Ryder was a man of few words, granted mostly obscene words, but his tone suggested the conversation was closed, he was sharing no more.

“Thanks, mate. I owe you one.”

I tucked the paper into my pocket wondering when would be the right time to call her. Because I was going to call her, there was absolutely no doubt I’d be using the number in the near future. I sent a silent prayer of thanks to Taylor, the woman had made my night.

“So, Peroni in the fridge, mate?”