Recoil Page 3

“Why would that be?” Murray turned to face him.

  He sucked in a breath at how fast the old prick had aged. Grey laced his hair, and the harsh weather had taken its toll on the man’s face. But most shocking was the vulnerability he’d never seen before. “Why do you think?” he responded. “Don’t ya think a civil conversation could have sorted any issue you had with me?”

  Murray shrugged, and curled his lip up on one side. “Possibly, but not as effectively.”

  “Going to share what’s been goin’ on while I’ve been away from this shithole?”

  Murray grimaced as the race finished, crumpling a slip of paper in his hand, and tossing it at the nearest bin. The litter fell to the ground, and he turned his back on it. “Let’s go for a walk, hey boy?”

  “Lovely day for it,” Pistol scathed, shrugging his shoulders up to stop the wind biting at his throat.

  “Still a fuckin’ soft one, I see.” Murray led them from the stands, and along a service road that ran parallel to the racetrack.

  “Still don’t know a fuckin’ thing about me, I see.” Pistol exchanged glances with Trevor who shadowed the pair at a polite distance.

  Murray nodded back in the big guy's direction. “Is it necessary to bring ya dog?”

  “What can I say? He likes to go for a walk.”

  Murray chuckled, and shook his head. He punched his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, and stared straight ahead. “What do ya want to know then?”

  “Why? Why can’t ya leave me be?”

  Murray glanced across. “You know of the inheritance, right?”

  Pistol nodded.

  “Guess the old mole didn’t share why she was so concerned about it.”

  “Figure she’s jealous she didn’t get to shoot it all in her arm.”

  The old man sighed. “Aye. You’d be partially right there.”

  “What’s the rest?”

  “She cut me a deal. I get fifty-five per cent if I sort you out so that she naturally becomes the next in line.”

  “You sold me life, for what? A few thousand?”

  Murray’s lips lifted in a cruel smile. “Try a few hundred thousand.”

  Pistol stared down the road, all the while his mind screamed in shock. Alex was that loaded? And he left it all to the son he abandoned? “Why did Alex leave me with ya’s if he knew I was his son?”

  “Agh, slow down hey? One thing at a time.” Murray slipped an arm around Pistol’s shoulder, and tugged him in for a brief clinch. He let go, pushing him back with a subtle flick of the wrist. “You grew into a man with me, boy. You know how this world works. You take what ya can get, and ya leave what ya can’t fix behind.”

  “Thought that’s what I did.”

  “Aye, but some of us back ‘ere have to do the same. I need that dough to start a legit business for me retirement. An old dog like me can’t keep up the thuggery for life. Me joints ain’t what they used to be, and me hearts had one too many a scare over the years.”

  “Glad I could be of service to ya.” Pistol scuffed the gravel underfoot, and flicked the ring in his lip. “Ya asked Trevor to take the old bag out, though. Why?”

  “Why have half the pie, when the whole one’s there for the takin’?”

  “You were goin’ to cut her out, too.”

  Murray nodded. “It burns a little when ya own brother would leave his wealth to a drug-addled bitch like ya mother over his own flesh and blood.”

  “I bet,” Pistol scoffed. “If ya that desperate for it all, then why pay someone to take me out? Why not do it yourself?”

  Murray licked his bottom lip, and ran his teeth over the cracked flesh. “Agh, Jesus boy. I know I ain’t been a father to ya, and truth be told, it was hard when I knew whose you were. As much as we’ve never connected, and there sure as shit ain’t no love lost between us, I can’t do it to ya. You remind me of what I was like as a youngster; so full of hope that the world would change, and I’d get out of this life. It would be like killin’ me only dream.”

  He scoffed at the old man’s admission. “I guess that’s about as close to heartfelt as I’ll ever get from ya, then.”

  “You’d be right.” Murray stopped walking, and turned to face him. “This life never lets ya go, boy. I know what ya want to do, and let me tell ya now—killin’ us all won’t stop the dark blood that runs through ya veins.” He prodded Pistol in the chest with a thick finger. “You can’t hide what’s in here. Ignore it for too long, and the beast gets hungry. Just pray to the Lord above that it ain’t the wrong person who’s about ya when the beast gets free.”

  “All I can say, is I learnt from the best.” Pistol held his hand out for Murray. He took it, and gave it a firm shake. “May the best man win.”

  “I could have sworn you were me own, but given the circumstances, it was never meant to be.”

  Murray dropped the handshake, and turned away. He watched as the old guy wandered over to a side gate, and slipped through into the streets.

  “That was a lot less violent than I thought it would be.” Trevor stood beside him, hands on hips.

  “Aye. He’s never what you expect.”

  Sunlight burnt a path through Steph’s eyelids as she battled to hold on to those last remnants of sleep. The rest had been so damn refreshing, so free. When she slept, the nightmares weren’t real, when she woke … well.

  She dozed off again, sliding into a deep bliss for a few stolen moments longer. The golden hue of the sunlight seeped back into her conscious, and she rolled to her back, ready to admit defeat.

  Sleeping in the heat of the day asked for a thumping headache anyway.

  Steph opened her eyes, and groaned. Did she have to get out of bed? It’s not as though she had to go to work, or anything. Maybe she could stay in the cloud-like confines of her bedding for a moment longer?

  Yeah, and then what sort of slob would you be?

  Her hand flopped out of the covers to swat at the top of the nightstand. Her fingers found the phone, and with a skilled flick of her index finger, she unplugged the charger, and brought the display into her line of sight.

  11.20am.

  Breakfast, or straight into lunch? Such trivial choices for such trying times. If she stood any chance at making the most of the day she’d need to get out of the house. Which in turn required showering. Which in turn meant she had to get out of bed.

  Steph moaned at her lame predicament.

  Too drained to move from her bed. Who was this person? Certainly not the ‘let’s spring out of bed’ girl she usually was when things upstairs were all in order. The red light on the base of her phone flashed, and she lifted the device up into her line of sight once more to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. The light blinked again, and her heart sunk back into its foxhole.

  The alarm!

  Why the hell didn’t she wake up for it? Steph scrambled from the bed, and flopped unceremoniously onto the floor as she fumbled to wake the screen of her phone. The icon for a missed call glared at her like an angry red eye on the top bar. Even her phone seemed to chastise her for sleeping through Pete’s call.

  The little envelope beside it at least showed she had voicemail. Her back hit the wall with a dull thump, and she drew a long breath to psyche herself up for what he might have to say. Had they hit trouble already? Was he okay? What if he had tried to call her to say goodbye because the shit hit the fan the minute they touched down?

  Calm yourself, Steph.

  She shook her head at the paranoid thoughts flocking in like seagulls to a dropped French fry. Only, the French fry was her last strand of sanity, and the seagulls were her inner demons. There was one way to know for sure what the message said, and that was to listen to the damn thing.

  She thumbed through to the voicemail number, and lifted the phone to her ear as the mechanical voice went through the motions. Her heart skipped when Pete’s voice cut in.

  “Hey, Love. I don’t know exactly what time it is there, but I guess it’s early,
and ya sleepin’. Trevor and me got in fine. We’re gettin’ a bite to eat before we see the sights. I, ah … fuck, Love, I wish you’d answered. I miss ya already. I’ll call ya again later.”

  Her chin quivered as the automated voice cut back in to give her the options. She hit the number to listen again, and again. Four rounds later she brought the phone to her lap, and hit the end button with a pained finger. It physically hurt to end the call—to cut the connection to him, as small and worthless as it was.

  The front door slammed, and footsteps tracked their way into the kitchen. Brief panic engulfed her skin in a blanket of fire before she remembered who had followed her home. Steph tugged a plain jumper on over her pyjama set, and made her way through to the living area.

  “Morning, Sleeping Beauty.” Ben placed two bags of groceries on the counter, and proceeded to unload fresh fruit and vegetables into the fridge. “What the hell have you been eating lately?”

  “Food?”

  “Not much at home I’m guessing.”

  She shook her head, and slid onto a chair at the table. “I thought you’d be at work?”

  “Changing jobs soon, so I’ve got a few days they’d rather I took off than have them pay out.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “What are you going to do today?” He leant his elbows onto the counter, and watched her while he peeled an orange.

  “Not sure. But I know I need to get out of the house.”

  He nodded, and tossed the peel into the bin. “Do something that’ll make you feel better. See a movie or something.”

  She could, but then she knew the time would be a waste of money since she’d walk out unable to recall a single thing that happened because she was away in la-la land the whole time.

  “I might see what Cass is doing for lunch.”

  “Ready to explain everything to her? ‘Cause you know she’ll want to know why you’re here, and not on holiday.”

  “Going to have to do it sooner or later.” Beside, who better to understand life with a man like Pete, than Cass? “She usually knows what to say.”

  “She always has something to say,” Ben scoffed. “I’ll be surprised if she finds a guy who can put up with the way she runs her mouth off all the time.”

  “I think she already has.” Gary.

  “Wow. Wonders never cease.” He popped the last segments into his mouth, and downed them after a few short chews. “Anyway, if you’re going to be okay, I’ve got a few things I need to do. You cool if I shoot off?”

  “Fine. Thanks for the groceries.”

  “Any time.” Ben rounded the counter, and gave her a small peck on the forehead. “I’ll see you at the funeral anyway. Do you need a ride?”

  “Nah. Dad’s taking me.”

  “Cool. Go out and do something fun.”

  She watched him duck out the front door as quickly as he’d come in. The guy could be a whirlwind when he was on a mission. Her feet scuffed as she ambled over to the fridge to check out what he’d bought for her. An array of colourful, fresh produce filled her fridge to over-flowing. As much as she wanted to dine on the stuff before it spoiled, her appetite had left the room about the same time Pete did. That meal at her parents last night should surely last her until she picked something up with Cass.

  Steph returned to her bedroom, and picked up her phone, quickly typing out a text to Cass. She tossed it on the bed before her desire to listen to the message once more got the better of her. He’d call again when he was able to.

  He said he would.

  ***

  Cass twiddled the straw in her glass of Coke while they waited on the muffins they’d ordered. Steph watched her, plying her brain for something to say to strike up a conversation. How did she start it? ‘Oh, Pete’s gone back to Ireland to kill his family’? Not likely.

  “You’re hiding something from me. What is it?” Cass narrowed her gaze.

  Called out. “I’m not ‘hiding’ anything.”

  “Fine, you’re withholding information.” Cass smirked.

  “I guess you’re wondering why I’m still here if I booked holidays at work.”

  “Not particularly.” Cass shrugged. “I figured you wanted to lay low, that’s why you hadn’t said anything. But now I am.”

  Steph shook her head, pondering if she should nip the conversation in the bud while she had a chance.

  “Why do you have Pete’s car, though. That I want to know.”

  “He loaned it to me.” Wasn’t a complete lie.

  “Suddenly taken up walking everywhere, has he?”

  Yeah, her skills at fabricating an involved lie were next to hopeless. “He’s in Ireland.”

  “What?” Cass wailed. The people at the table beside them scowled.

  “He’s gone back to try and iron out some issues his family are going through.”

  “Babe, you are such a lame liar. That family are like the damn mafia; they’d top their spouse without a second thought let alone direct blood relatives. I hardly think they’re sitting around a table, sipping tea while they ‘iron out’ their problems.”

  Steph leant back in her seat, and frowned. “What do you know about his family?”

  “Gary and I have been talking a bit at night, and well, you guys came up in conversation.”

  “Great,” she murmured.

  “Nothing bad, babe. He wanted me to understand why Pete is the way he is, you know, so I give him a fair chance with you.”

  Steph’s love of Gary doubled. The guy seemed utterly selfless given what he’d done for everybody—Cass mostly. “How did you do it?”

  “Do what?”

  “Live with that mongrel you ran from? Deal with the kind of world it was?” Steph leant in to the table as she spoke, her voice shrinking to a whisper.

  “No choice in the matter. Sometimes you can’t choose your surroundings, hon, just the path out of there.”

  “But you seem so strong now, and here I am—“ she gestured to herself, “—falling apart at the seams like a damn wimp.”

  “Steph, you’re not a wimp. So what if I seem strong now? I was a fucking mess when Gary carried me out of there. You know how he found me?”

  Steph shook her head.

  “With a rope in my hand, headed for the back yard. I was going to hang myself in the tool shed so nobody would find me until I was past resuscitation.” Tears welled in Cass’s eyes. The weakness was so out of character, it made Steph’s eyes water in sympathy. “I argued with him, scratched him, fought him to try and go finish myself. The silly idiot wrapped his huge arms around me, and held me until I stopped fighting back, until I was a pathetic crying mess. He simply picked me up, and carried me out the gates.”

  “So how did they know it was him who helped you?”

  “It’s a biker clubhouse, Steph; cameras fucking everywhere. You couldn’t take a piss without someone watching.”

  “Worlds apart.” She waved a finger between them.

  “But so alike.” Cass raised an eyebrow. “Question is, what are you going to do about it?”

  “About how alike we are?” Steph was lost.

  “About who Pete is. You’ve gotta find a way to make peace with it, babe, otherwise you’ll never go anywhere but round in circles.”

  “I’ve made peace with his world,” Steph answered, averting her gaze to the table. “It’s how he fits into mine that I can’t work out.”

  “Why? I thought you two had some weird connection, or something?”

  “We do. It’s just, I don’t know, I feel awkward enough as it is when I go to anything that involves my family—you know how my Mum gets.”

  “So you’re embarrassed of him?”

  “No!”

  “Ashamed?”

  “Hardly.”

  “Then what?” Cass asked, clearly exasperated.

  “If this—“ she waved the length of herself, “—is what happens when I get stressed, then will I ever be giving him the best of me if all his history does is str
ess me out?”

  “Babe, you answered your own question.”

  Steph looked up at Cass, frowned, and curled the corners of her lips down as she slowly shook her head.

  “It’s his history. For fuck’s sake, he’s over in Ireland now, for you. I mean, that is why he’s there right? Otherwise wouldn’t he have done this years ago?”

  She shrugged. It sounded so ideal, but was it true? “I assumed he was doing it for himself.”

  “Not if you ask Gary. According to him, Pete only started worrying about the influence his family has on his life when you showed up.”

  “Really?” Did she honestly have that much influence over him?

  “Fact.”

  The waitress arrived with their muffins, and Cass indicated which belonged to whom. Steph slid the apple, and cinnamon delight toward her, but Steph’s head swirled with new waves of information. She stared at the muffin, lost in her thoughts.

  He went all that way, risking himself for only her? It couldn’t be true.

  “I can see the look of doubt on your face, woman. My last piece of advice before I stuff my mouth with this triple-chocolate goodness, is think hard about what life would be with him, and without him before you do anything rash.”

  True to her word, Cass took an enormous bite of the muffin, and proceeded to make her best ‘O’ face. Steph giggled at the clown, but deep down she itched to be able to speak to Pete.

  She had to let him know that if the only reason he was putting himself on the line was for her, then he was more useful to her alive, and at home.

  She needed to get him back to Australia.

  “Just have a bloody drink, Son.” Trevor held the door open, and ushered him past.

  Pistol eyed the pub they’d walked into, and let a small chuckle slip. “The first place I took a real drink, eh?”

  “None other.”

  “Fuck, I forgot what it looked like from the outside, but now I’m back in here … Jesus.”

  Trevor laughed, and clapped him on the shoulder. “Come and get your de ja vu on then.” He led them over to the bar, and onto stools.

  “It doesn’t feel right, ya know?” Pistol leant his elbows onto the counter, and clasped his hands together. He watched two blondes work the other side. The bartender in him couldn’t help but pick comparisons between how he worked, and how they poured a drink. One of the two was definitely new.