The Letters: A Carnage Novella Page 6

  “Where the fuck is she, Ben?” I asked him as I opened the car door and found the back seat empty.

  “She stormed off up the alley, boss. The motor won’t fit down there so I couldn’t follow. I didn’t wanna go around the block to the road in case you came out and wondered where the fuck we were.”

  I climbed into the front seat next to him. “Go to her place, she probably jumped in a cab and went home.”

  I sent Benny home and let myself into Georgia’s place, using the key she had given me.

  It was empty.

  I was both pissed off and worried and even more angry that I cared enough to worry. I couldn’t call anyone. Bailey and Lennon had threatened me with a slow painful death if I ever upset her, so I wasn’t about to go there, and I had no contact details for her other brother, Marley. He’d probably just tell the other two anyway, or worse still, their dad. I most definitely didn’t want Frank Layton on my case on top of everything else.

  I had been having a spot of bother with a couple brothels and coffee houses we owned in Amsterdam. It was all legal and above board, but the Russians recently moved into the area and were pushing their luck. Trying to make me pay for protection. Me? I didn’t fucking think so. They obviously had no clue who they were dealing with, so I sent a dozen blokes over there to introduce themselves. I thought they’d gotten the message. Then two nights ago, one of the coffee shops burnt down and three of our girls were roughed up. A point needed to be made, and it had to be made in person. We were gonna have to fly to Amsterdam sometime soon and sort this out ourselves, which was the last thing I needed. I was in the middle of negotiating the purchase of a house for myself and Georgia. I had thought it was a done deal. I had thought my offer had been accepted. Apparently, I had been wrong. I got a lot of things wrong that week.

  I eventually crawled into Georgia’s bed, and like the sad fuck I was, I fell asleep with my face buried in her pillow.

  There was no sign of her at her flat the next morning. I went down to the shop and asked down there. I didn’t know the girl who was working, but she made some calls and then told me Georgia was taking a few days off.

  I went back to my flat and checked my answerphone, nothing except a message from Benny telling me I needed to get in touch with him ASAP regarding our “Russian problem”. I showered and went down to my office at the back of the wine bar.

  Robbie was waiting for me.

  “Rob?”

  “You need to fly over to Amsterdam this afternoon. The rest of the boys are on the ferry on their way over there now. I’ve set up a meet with you and Nikolay Kadnikov for tomorrow.”

  Fuck, I thought I’d at least have the weekend to smooth things over with Georgia and get this house deal done.

  “Why the rush?”

  “The rush, little brother, is because they slapped another one of our girls last night. Sending the boys on their own didn’t work, so one of us needs to go. Josh is still in Marbella, Teresa is due to have the baby any day and needs me close, so that, sunshine, just leaves you. Flight’s booked, and you need to be at City Airport by three. You fly out at four thirty.”

  “For fuck’s sake, can’t this wait till Monday?”

  “No, it can’t. I promised Krystal we’d get this sorted. We’ve always looked after our girls, and right now, they’re all too terrified to take a trip to the supermarket or to pick their kids up from school in case another warning gets delivered. Krystal said Marika’s nose was broken last night. These Russian’s are taking the piss. I want it sorted, today. Whatever piece of fanny you’ve got lined up can keep till next week.”

  I was so pissed off by all of this, I was pacing. I didn’t pace. Not until I’d met Georgia, anyway.

  “Georgia is not a piece of fanny. Don’t fucking talk about her like that,” I warned him before sitting myself down in my office chair—the “twirling” chair.

  “Georgia? Frank Layton’s daughter? You still tapping that? Playing with fire there, bruv. When big bad Frank finds out, you won’t just get burned, you’ll get fucking cremated.”

  “Fuck off, Rob. He’s the least of my worries.”

  “Oh really? Since when did your balls get so big, Bertie Big Bollocks? Coz I’ve never met anyone that wasn’t at least a little bit scared of Frank or his psycho brother Fin, not to mention crazy fucking Bailey. You must want your brains testing.”

  My foot was tapping and my jaw was twitching. I was also giving myself a headache from grinding my teeth together. I wanted to knock my brother the fuck out.

  “I’m buying a house, I’m gonna ask her to move in with me. We’ll talk to her dad before then. Of course, whether I get his blessing or not, it’s gonna happen.”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa, you’re buying a house but you haven’t asked her to move in yet? What if she says no?”

  “She won’t.”

  “Don’t you think she might wanna say in what type of house she lives in if she does say yes then? Does she not get to choose it with you?”

  Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.

  “It’s got stables and it’s near her mum, she’ll love it.”

  “I fucking hope so, mate.” He clicked the nib of the pen he was holding continuously as he spoke, something else that pissed me off. I snatched it out of his hand, snapped it in half, and threw it across the room.

  My phone rang.

  “Speak,” I ordered.

  “Cam?”

  My heart bounced about inside my chest and my stomach went into free fall at the sound of her voice.

  “Kitten?” I watched as my brother’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline when I said her name, so I raised mine and gave him a look that said, “Not one word, dick head, not one fucking word.” He picked up another pen from the pot on my desk and started clicking it. I wanted to snap off his thumb.

  “Fuck. Where the fuck are you? Don’t you ever do something like that to me again, you fuckin hear me? I’ve been worried sick. Where are you?”

  I cracked my jaw to relieve some tension while I waited for her answer.

  “I’m sorry. I’m fine. I should’ve called you last night. I didn’t mean to make you worry.”

  Worry? Fucking worry? The three times I’d woken during the night, I’d worn holes in her bedroom carpet as I paced and tried to think where I should start to look for her.

  Apparently, I did pace.

  I wanted to shout at her, but I didn’t want her hanging up on me.

  This skinny little girl had me so twisted up in knots, I didn’t know which way was up any more.

  “Where are you? I’ll come and get you,” I said calmly. I knew she didn’t have her car. It was still parked outside her flat when I’d left there that morning.

  “No, no. it’s fine. I don’t need collecting.” She sounded panicked. Warning bells sort of went off, but I chose to ignore them.

  I turned the chair around and faced the wall in my office so I didn’t have to look at my brother’s obvious pleasure over finding out this girl had me by the balls.

  “You okay? I missed you,” I told her quietly. She said nothing. More alarm bells. I stamped on them till they shut the fuck up. Shoulda gone with my gut.

  “I stayed at yours last night. I needed to be able to smell you. I fuckin’ hated sleeping in your bed and waking up alone.”

  Robbie made a gaging noise from behind me. I spun the chair around, picked up the pot containing the pens, and launched it at him. My stapler followed.

  She was silent. Nothing but the sound of her breathing was coming through the phone, but I could barely hear it over the sound of my own heart beating loudly in my ears.

  “Georgia, you still there?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m still here. Look, Cam, we need to talk.”

  No, no we do not need to talk.

  “But not on the phone. I need to see you in person.”

  Fuck. I closed my eyes and tried not to voice the panic rising in my chest.

  “Well, I just said I’d come and
get you, but I only have an hour. I have a flight to catch at four thirty. I won’t be back until Monday.”

  “Well, I’ll just wait and see you Monday then.”

  Monday? Monday was forever away.

  “I’d really like to see you now, Kitten.” I spun in the chair back away from my brother, who was still rubbing his forehead where the stapler had hit him. Serves the wanker right.

  “Monday’s a long way off, and I want to show you how sorry I am for being such a prick last night.”

  “Fuck Me!” my brother whisper shouted. “I’m gonna take a piss, I can’t listen to any more of this.” He got up and went into my bathroom.

  “I can’t, Cam. You don’t have to keep apologising. You shouldn’t have behaved like a prick, and I shouldn’t have stormed off like a diva. Go catch your flight and give me a call on Monday once you’re home.”

  Fuck my luck and fuck those Russians. I raked my hand through my hair and let out a long sigh.

  “If I could get out of it, George, I would, but something’s come up with some business I have going on in Amsterdam, and I need to fly over and sort it out. I only just found out myself I had to go.”

  “It’s okay, you go and sort out your business and we’ll talk on Monday.”

  Tell her you love her, tell her how you feel …

  “I miss you, Kitten. Have a good weekend.”

  Tell her for fuck’s sake!

  “You too, Cam. Bye.”

  Fucking tell her. My own voice roared in my head.

  “George, I …” The door to my bathroom swung open and my brother stepped back into my office.

  “Nothing, I’ll see you Monday.”

  I flew to Amsterdam rearranged the meeting with Kadnikov and saw him Friday night. I was thoroughly fucked off with the situation and the inconvenience it had caused me. I took my fucked offness out on his face and made him see the error of his ways. It was NOT okay to hit women, and it was NOT okay to burn down buildings we owned. We would NOT be paying him for protection. He would NOT mess with us again. He got my point, along with a broken nose.

  I got a flight home Saturday lunch time.

  Before we took off, I called Georgia, she’d slept in and I’d woken her up. Her voice was all croaky and as sexy as fuck. I turned my back to the airport crowds and tried to readjust my hard-on as I spoke to her on the phone.

  She was even less talkative than she’d been when she called me Friday morning. All I learned was that she’d gone out to an Indian restaurant with Jimmie Friday night, but she didn’t drink much because she was saving herself for Ashley’s party. In that split second, I decided not to tell her I was coming home and just to turn up at her place to surprise her later.

  Once we landed, I went home to shower before going over to Georgia’s and found a message waiting from the estate agent on my answerphone. The offer on the house I’d spent the last two weeks trying to buy had finally been accepted.

  I didn’t call Georgia or go to her place that afternoon, deciding to turn up at Ashley’s birthday party that night and surprise her instead.

  She was fucking surprised all right.

  The first thing I noticed when I pulled into my reserved spot was the extra security in place, even at the back of the building. I walked around to the front, where there were not only more of my staff than usual but also faces I didn’t recognise.

  “What’s going on?” I asked Steve, one of my head doorman.

  “Private party, boss. Frank’s boy, the one that’s in the band? He’s up there with another bloke from the band.”

  I looked around at the queue as he spoke and spotted a few photographers hanging about. Oh well, it’d be good publicity for the club and would most definitely raise our profile having them here.

  “Who’s paying for all the extra security?” I asked him.

  “Nothing to do with us, boss. They came with the band. Bailey’s inside, have a chat with him.”

  I nodded my head but I was only half listening. Georgia was inside, and after two lonely nights without her in my bed, I planned to drag her out of there just as soon as she’d let me.

  I had a key with me. It wasn’t the actual key to the house I’d bought, but she wouldn’t know that. I was gonna put it into a glass of champagne and pass it to her.

  The club was packed to capacity, and the bars were four deep with people waiting to be served. I made my way through the crowds and up the stairs to the VIP area.

  Bailey stepped in front of me, blocking my path from the bar to the dance floor in the sectioned off area.

  “I thought you were away till next week?” he questioned. His eyebrows were drawn down and he blinked rapidly as a look of complete panic washed over his face. It was only there for a few seconds before he composed himself. Bailey Layton looked worried, what the fuck was that all about?

  “I got things sorted sooner than expected and thought I’d fly straight home to surprise your sister.”

  He swallowed hard and nodded his head slowly. He wasn’t happy that we were together, but he’d been pretty good about things so far. I wasn’t sure how he was gonna feel about Georgia moving in with me, though. Fuck, I missed her. I needed to see those pretty blue eyes that finally had some light back in them.

  “Where is she?”

  He shrugged his shoulders and sat himself down on a bar stool. “Not sure, but if I know Georgia, she’s probably dancing. Have a drink.”

  He caught the attention of Kelly, one of our barmaids, and motioned with his finger between us. She brought over a bottle of bourbon and two glasses, moving the ice bucket along the bar so it was within our reach.

  “So, your brother’s here, the one that’s in Carnage?”

  “Er, yeah. Yeah he is. Both my brothers are here.” He looked all around himself as he spoke. He looked like he was either in pain, or he was terrified.

  What the fuck was going on?

  My office door opened.

  “I think George said she was gonna go to the dance floor downstairs, perhaps you’d be better off looking for her there,” Bailey said, whipping the sweat that was shining on his forehead.

  “Why the fuck would she go down there?”

  A bloke that seemed vaguely familiar appeared over Bailey’s shoulder, dangling a bunch of keys.

  “Cheers, mate. We owe you big time.”

  I looked from the bloke, to the keys, to Bailey.

  He closed his eyes and seemed to hold his breath before turning around on the stool he was sitting on. I followed his gaze.

  Kitten.

  “You wanna drink, baby?” the bloke, the key‑dangling fucker, kissed her temple and asked.

  I was torn between telling him to take his hands off my woman and smiling at her. I opened my mouth to speak when realisation of who he was started to seep into my poor, stupid, love‑fucked brain.

  The singer from the band.

  Mac?

  Maca?

  Something like that.

  I looked from her to him, he’d kissed her and he was holding her hand. I looked at her face. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she were about to speak, and her eyes were wide. My gaze swung back to him to find him looking at her as if she were the most beautiful, amazing creature to have ever graced the earth.

  He’d kissed her.

  He was holding her hand.

  I couldn’t fucking breathe.

  “Gia, what’s wrong?” he asked her gently. Love, devotion, concern, and worship all too obvious in his voice. My heart stopped beating. For a few split seconds, I thought I was going to choke on it as it crawled from my chest and lodged itself in my throat.

  Two days.

  I’d been gone for two fucking days.

  I needed to get out of there.

  I needed to … I had no clue what I needed, but it needed to make me numb.

  I turned to walk away.

  “Cam?”

  That voice. Her voice. She was calling my name, talking to me. Hope began to infiltr
ate the empty spot my heart had just left vacant, and stupidly, for a few seconds, I allowed it to affect my way of thinking. I’d got it all wrong, they were friends, just her brother’s band mate. She’d probably known him for years. I had nothing to worry about. She wouldn’t do that to me, not my Kitten.

  I swung back around, and the control I had over my own fists was hanging tenuously by a thread.

  Bailey jerked in his stool. He could read me like a book. Him and I were the same, it was in our genes. We could read a person’s body language from ten feet away and sniff out trouble from twenty.

  Because I needed to do something—anything other than stand there, dying—I held out my hand.

  “Cameron King, joint owner of the place.”

  “Sean McCarthy.”

  My world ended. I nodded my head in acknowledgment of this fact.

  “You’re Sean? The lead singer of Carnage. Of course.” I had no clue how I managed to string that sentence together.

  He looked from me to her.

  “Do you need a minute to talk?”

  He knew. That fucker knew about me.

  I sure as shit knew about him. Sean. Her Sean.

  She gave her head a slight nod in answer to his question.

  I wasn’t sure whose head I wanted to rip off the most—hers, his, or my own.

  He said something in her ear and then turned to me, “I’m gonna go get a drink from the other bar.”

  Good. Fuck off and don’t come back. I wanted to wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze.

  “I’ll leave you two to talk,” Bailey stated in his rough voice.

  “Cam.” She reached out to touch my arm, hesitated, and then put it back down to her side.

  Touch me. Please touch me and tell me that I’ve got this all wrong. I need that. I need you, Kitten.

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to tell you over the phone.”

  No. No. No. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go.

  I’d bought a house.

  For us.

  A fucking house with stables.