Aftermath (Dividing Line #6) (13 page)

“I wasn’t thinking of me,” he said, starting the engine. “I was thinking of paying someone to look into it. Let’s go and see Battler and Bruiser. I want to discuss the Jules situation with them as well as these disappearances.”

Relieved, she sat back in her seat and smiled, pulling on her sunglasses. “I like your thinking.”

CHAPTER 15

The brothers had set up their security consultancy headquarters in the town of Torquay, a twenty minute drive from their own village of Newton Abbot. Their lack of a criminal record meant they’d had no problem getting all the licences and permits required and their business was thriving, the brothers themselves a great advert. Battler’s slightly gruff charm combined with Bruiser’s silence had unwittingly cultivated for them a strong, reliable image. Just by looking at the brothers you knew they were more than capable of not only taking care of themselves but anyone else they were paid to protect. They’d also piqued the interest of all the desperate housewives in the area who came to them when they’d lost their cat or the milkman made them uncomfortable.

Their offices were smart, spanning two floors of a converted Georgian manor house. Their security firm covered not only the south west of England but most of the north too, having set up an efficient network of employees and area managers to oversee some of the work for them. This had been their big retirement plan to get out of the gangster life, they’d been preparing for it for years, consequently no detail had been ignored and they ran their company with ruthless efficiency. Not only did they provide bodyguards but they also dealt in event and retail security, mobile patrols, alarm response, key holding and nightclub door supervision. They organised training courses for those wanting to get into the security business too. Their reputation was second to none.

The brothers shared a large airy office on the ground floor and Rachel and Ryan found them both behind their imposing oak desks, suit jackets hung neatly over the backs of their chairs, white shirt sleeves rolled up to their elbows to reveal enormous tattooed forearms.

“I hope we’re not interrupting?” said Rachel.

Battler got to his feet to embrace her. “Not at all. We’ve always got time for you love. Take a seat.”

He sat them before his desk, fussing around them with coffee before retaking his seat. “So, what can we do for you?”

“Jules turned up at Estelle’s flat in Nottingham,” opened Ryan.

Battler’s expression was flinty. “Is she okay?”

“Fine. Jules nicked some cash and drugs off her.”

“How do you know this?”

“The lad I asked to keep an eye on her flat called me. Unfortunately I don’t know what Estelle told Jules…”

“Which is what’s worrying you?”

Ryan appreciated how Battler always got to the heart of the matter. “Yes. We think she’s headed this way.”

Battler looked over at his brother, who nodded. “We agree. The question is, what will she do when she gets here?”

“Exactly.”

“You want us to keep an eye out?”

“Please,” said Rachel.

“Me and Bruiser will take this on personally. If she enters Devon we’ll know about it.”

“Thank you. If you let us know of any expenses…”

“Rachel love, there’s no charge for this,” said Battler. “You’re like a daughter to us both and we’ll do anything to look after you and your family. This is personal, not business.”

She grasped his hand. “I don’t know what we’d do without you two.”

“You’ll never have to find out, I promise you that.”

Rachel smiled at him adoringly.

“There was one other thing,” said Ryan. 

“We’re listening.”

“These disappearances.”

“Yes, that is strange,” said Battler while Bruiser nodded. “John Owen has disappeared now. Nice lad. I go in his shop a lot.”

“Tracey who manages Rachel’s beauty salon said her brother is one of the missing men. Apparently the police are doing sod all about it. She hinted someone should. Something’s not right.”

“Funny you should say that but last week we were hired by one of the victim’s mothers to see what we could find out.”

“Victim?” said Rachel.

“Those men are dead,” replied Battler. “No two ways about it. It’s just a matter of time before a body turns up.”

Rachel stifled a shiver.

“I understand your investigation is confidential to the client,” said Ryan, “but have you found anything yet?”

“Not yet. The abductions, which is what we’re certain they are, were done well. Nothing was left behind telling us who took them or where they might have been taken to. But we’ll keep digging and we’ll find something.”

“I’ve no doubt you will. Keep us informed, will you?” said Ryan.

“Of course. I just hope our worst fears aren’t confirmed.”

“And what are those?”

“That there’s a serial killer running loose.”

Loud protests from the queue waiting to get into the nightclub started up when someone dressed in tight black jeans, leather jacket and black jumper with the hood pulled up walked straight past them and through the door.

“You can’t come in here like that, there is a dress code and a sodding line,” said Wolf, the head bouncer. The huge man swallowed hard when the figure pulled back their hood. “Venom, I didn’t realise it was you.”

“Obviously not or you wouldn’t have stopped me,” said Jules. “Is he in?”

“Let me check.”

“Don’t give me that shit. I want to see him. Now.”

“Are you carrying any weapons?”

“I suggest you mind your own fucking business.” She glared at him until he looked away.

“Alright, go on up.”

“I always knew you had a brain in that big thick skull of yours Wolf,” she said before stalking past him.

Only when she had her back to him did Wolf give her the finger.

The theme in Club Decadence that evening was uniforms, consequently the dance floor was packed with police, military, schoolgirls, firefighters, nurses and doctors. The only difference was these uniforms were composed of skin tight PVC and accompanied by stockings, suspenders and chains. But it was Venom who drew the odd looks in her plain clothes. As she made her way through the dimly lit club, skirting the cages containing scantily-clad dancers, the people around her barely registered on her consciousness, they meant nothing to her.

She barrelled her way across the dance floor, glancing up at the big slab of dark glass that looked down on the club. The one-way glass reflected back the dancers, impossible to see into but she knew the man himself was there, watching her from behind it. Wolf would have already called to warn him she was on her way. Pity, she would have preferred to take him by surprise.

She walked through the plain black door tucked away behind the stage, which completely blocked out the noise from the club as it swung shut behind her. She took her time walking up the stairs, drawing it out. She wanted him agitated by the time she got up there, it would give her the upper hand. A tiny bit of apprehension niggled at her, she had no idea how he was going to react to her coming here. The weight of the knives strapped to her forearms beneath her hoodie was reassuring.

At the top of the stairs she turned right to be confronted by a thick metal door, no doubt soundproofed. He was very security and privacy conscious. It opened beneath her touch, just as she knew it would.

He was waiting.

The man himself faced away from the door, surveying his domain through the sea of glass, which took up one entire wall of his office. He sipped a neat vodka. Whisky was his favourite tipple but he preferred vodka when he was agitated. It pleased her that he needed some Dutch courage to face her.

“Hello Dane.”

“I was wondering when you’d pay me a visit,” he began without turning round. “You took your time.” He was dressed for his club theatrics, or not dressed as the case may be, his costume consisting of a pair of tight black leather trousers and big black boots, his torso left bare. His trademark black gimp mask lay on the desk, awaiting its big moment. She knew he was angry because the muscles in his back stood out with tension, his body moving stiffly as he threw the fiery liquid down his throat.

“I’ve had to lie low. Mikey Maguire has been making enquiries about me.”

“So you brazenly walk into my club. Thanks for that.”

“I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”

He slammed the glass down on the desk and turned to face her, dark eyes burning. “What the fuck are you doing Jules? You should have got out of Manchester months ago.”

“I did. Then I came back,” she casually replied.

“Why?”

“To say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving, for good?” he said, torn between hope and dejection.

“Let’s just say I’m taking a little trip.”

“Where to?”

“Never you mind.”

“I hope you’re not thinking of going to Devon?”

She flashed him a wicked smile. “Don’t tell me you’re worried about me?”

“I’m worried about the poor bastard you’re about to descend on. Stay away from Devon.”

“Or what?”

“I know you’re hurting over what happened to your club but that was Jasper’s fault. He was a fucking idiot.”

“He was your best friend.”

“Until I saw him for what he really was. How could you stay with him after what he did to Zoe and the baby? You disappointed me that day.”

“I punished him for that,” she glowered.

“He probably enjoyed it.”

“Where else was I going to go Dane? Back to my loving parents?”

He sighed. “Perhaps not.”

“I stayed because I had no choice and you knew what drove him to that act. He snapped and we made him snap.”

Dane banged both fists down on his desk, teeth bared. “Don’t you dare lay that fucking atrocity at my door. Jasper did that because he was sick and evil. Riley Cutter cut off his nutsack and shoved it down his throat, literally. Did you know that?” He paused, waiting for her reaction, but all she did was shrug. “Is that all you can fucking do? Did twenty years with him mean nothing to you?”

“Like you said, he was an evil perv so why should I grieve for him?”

Dane hesitated, twisted into silence by his own logic.

“We pushed Jasper to the edge when he walked in on us fucking,” continued Jules in her casual, uninterested tone. “He daren’t take his anger out on us so he took it out on Zoe and Riley instead. You left me to deal with him alone.”

“You could have left with me. I asked you to.”

“You didn’t really want me.”

“Yes I did,” he yelled.

“It’s easy for you to say that but I do believe you called me a fucking nightmare.”

“Well you are.”

“And you shot at me outside the clubhouse when you and your little friends attacked.”

“You shot at me first.”

“You know if I’d wanted to hit you I would have done.”

“Why didn’t you get yourself out of there? I sent you enough text messages warning you.”

“I got them, three hours after the attack. My battery died.”

He sighed in exasperation. “You tried to kill Rachel Law.”

“I didn’t. She saw me in that barn and went for me. It made me angry and I fought back. Bitch knocked out two of my front teeth, I had to get falsies.”

“Serves you fucking right, you shouldn’t have been there in the first place, but it was what Jasper wanted so you did it.”

“I have my reasons for going there.”

“There’s something you’re not telling me. What is it?”

She gave him another infuriating smile. “You’re imagining things.”

“No I’m not. What game are you playing Jules?”

“It’s Venom,” she hissed.

“Drop the theatrics. Your name is Jules.”

“You’re one to talk about theatrics Mr Leather Pants. Why do you give a fuck what I get up to anyway? Just bury yourself in your little club like you always do, which, by the way, you wouldn’t even have if it wasn’t for me. When we first met you were an innocent little vanilla boy.” She smiled nastily. “Well, maybe not so little, but you were on my leash long before anyone was on yours. You should be paying me royalties for that idea.”

“Fine, this club is all down to you, Queen Jules. Is that what you want to hear?”

“There, wasn’t so hard, was it? Anyway, I’d better be off. I’m on a schedule.”

He placed himself before the door, blocking her exit. “Where are you going?”

“As if I’m going to tell you.”

“Stay away from Devon.”

“Why do you keep going on about Devon?”

“Because, as you know, Rachel and Ryan Law live there. They destroyed Alex Maguire and his crew so do you think you’ll pose them any problems?”

“Get out of my way.”

“Not until you tell me where you’re going.”

The blade was pressed against his throat with lightening speed and he was helpless to stop it.

“Stay out of my business,” she spat.

“If you think your little knives will protect you against the Laws then you’re a fucking idiot.” She pressed the blade harder against his neck but he stood his ground. “Go on then, do it,” he challenged. “Get me out of your life once and for all.” He took a step towards her and she slackened the pressure on his neck.