The Choice. Kerry Barnes

same. ‘I don’t think it’s Torvic’s style—’

      She didn’t get to finish. Suddenly, Willie was in her face. ‘Style? Style? What the fuck would you really know? ’Cos if you knew so much, he wouldn’t have fucking escaped, would he? And he wouldn’t now be torturing my boy!’

      It was Lance who brought Willie back to thinking rationally. ‘Look, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Torvic hasn’t got your son because he couldn’t have got to Spain and set this up all in a matter of hours. The kids were rushed out of the country. He would’ve had to second guess everything. So, there’s no way Torvic’s involved. I don’t believe it was him.’

      Willie kicked the chair out of the way, ran his trembling hands through his hair, and then punched the wall. No one said a word as they watched the man collapse to his knees with cries that would set off a pack of wolves.

      Mike hurried to his side and flung his arms around the man, holding him close. ‘Come on, mate, try and stay with us. We all feel your pain. Ya know I do, what with all that happened to Ricky. You were all there for me, and we’ll all be there for you too. We don’t know what’s happened yet, but I swear to God, we’ll do everything to find out. And one more thing: there’ll be fucking murders when we find the fuckers who have done this to one of our own.’

      Willie’s chest heaved in and out as the sobs choked the life out of him. But slowly, after he’d calmed down, those words of Mike’s resonated with him. They were all family. Ever since their school days, it had been all for one and one for all. It had served them well in the past. He earnestly prayed it would do so now.

      Zara could only watch on, helpless. This was turning into her worst nightmare.

      * * *

      It was early evening when Shelley parked outside her father’s office. The rush-hour traffic was at its height, and she couldn’t find a parking space for love nor money. In her frustration, she pulled into a reserved parking bay and climbed out of her car, slamming the door shut. The wind was fierce and almost knocked her sideways, forcing her to regain her composure.

      Just as she was about to lock the door, a jumped-up traffic warden called after her, ‘Sorry, but you can’t park there!’

      Raging, Shelley spun around to face him. ‘Go fuck yaself!’ she hollered back, to the disgust of some passers-by.

      ‘Madam, those spaces are paid for and—’

      ‘Aw, fuck off. It’s my father’s building and his parking slots, so mind ya own business.’

      The traffic warden looked at the windscreen of her car and grinned. ‘Well, that might be so, but you don’t have a pass on show, so that means you can’t park here.’

      Shelley didn’t have time to argue. She took a deep breath and was about to walk away, but the traffic warden wasn’t having any of it.

      ‘Madam, I said you can’t park here. You’ll have to move.’

      Inhaling through her nose, she tried to hold in her anger, but she was on edge and had been for days.

      ‘I said, go fuck yourself!’

      Suddenly, the tall glass doors to the building opened and out stepped Glen Maitland, the security guard, a long-legged black man with a cold, expressionless face. He held up his hand. ‘It’s okay. She has a pass!’

      ‘Not on the windscreen she hasn’t, and—’

      Before the traffic warden could finish, the security guard pulled a card from his pocket and waved it in front of the man’s nose. ‘Yes, she does!’

      Glen turned and sneered at Shelley. ‘He’s waiting for you. Give me your keys.’

      Shelley wondered if all of her father’s staff hated her, but then her mind cast back to her son, and, instantly, she went into one of her couldn’t-give-a-shit moods. She slapped the keys into Glen’s hand and made her way into the building and took the lift to the top floor.

      As usual, her father was dressed impeccably. Anyone who found themselves in this building facing him would only assume he was a successful financier. Underneath the sleek facade was a razor-sharp businessman, with a keen eye for illegal gains. She had admired him as a kid. Then, as a teenager, she’d understood why he was so well off and why he had men kissing his feet. His game had initially been counterfeit money. He’d set up factories all over the country. So good were his copies that it had caused mayhem back in the eighties, severely affecting the banking system. He knew when to call it a day, though, and by the time he was loaded, he reinvested some of the money into property. He had the local MPs and councillors in his back pocket and managed to secure run-down warehouses and disused factories, turning them into luxury apartments for the Russians to purchase as an investment.

      Shelley paused for a moment, wondering what mood her father was in. He was seated and staring at a computer screen. She hated it when he didn’t acknowledge her right away; it was one of his trademark management tricks to show those he allowed into his working space had to pay homage to him. It made her think that perhaps that was why she’d run into the arms of his enemy. The thought sickened her because her father was worth a fortune, and since she was the only child, she should eventually inherit the lot. But that wouldn’t be the case now: he’d made that crystal clear.

      ‘Any news, Dad?’ she asked, in her softest tone.

      ‘Yes, your brother-in-law will be assigning the house to you.’ His wicked smirk etched its way across his face, and it turned her stomach. She knew what he’d done. It was another one of his euphemisms: Mack would have been tied up and forced to sign the paperwork.

      ‘I meant, did you make arrangements for Lucas?’

      Colin looked away from the computer and sighed. ‘Yes!’ he spat, as his skin tightened around his jaw. Shelley hated that look: she knew it was controlled anger.

      Yet, right now, she wasn’t concerned. ‘Oh, Dad, thank you. Oh my God, I’ve been so worried. I feel like …’

      ‘Shut it!’ he yelled, which made her recoil. ‘I ain’t doing it for you. I’m doing it because it’s what ya dear ol’ mother would’ve wanted. You were right to fuck off with that bastard husband of yours, ’cos you two are cut from the same mouldy cloth. You’re as useless as he is, and as for your son, he fucking got himself into this mess!’

      ‘Dad, you would’ve done it for me when I was a teenager, wouldn’t you?’

      Colin stared straight through her. ‘I’ve bailed your arse outta shit many a time. Having men beaten or buried, I did it to protect your name, when, really, you were nothing but a slut, using my reputation to swan around like you fucking owned the place. I paid your debts, I gave you everything, but you still went off with that bastard. See, that’s where me and you are worlds apart. I know which side my bread’s buttered. You’ve been brainwashed by your estranged husband for so long, you’re not my girl anymore, you’re still his.’

      The pulse in her neck felt like a jackhammer, and she wondered if he was actually right. But then the vision of her son came into her head, and she didn’t care what her father thought of her, as long as she got what she wanted.

      ‘About Lucas. How long will it take, Dad?’

      ‘It’s happening tonight. And I’ll tell you this much. This has cost me a fucking shitload of money, so once it’s done and dusted, I don’t ever want to see your face again. And when Lucas is sorted, please don’t think for one minute that by sending your son to butter me up, it will in any way change things. It won’t. He’s off limits, as you are. Have I made myself clear?’

      ‘Dad, he’s a lovely boy. You really should get to know him.’

      The flash of anger in her father’s face made her eyes widen.

      ‘Listen to me, and fucking listen good. I don’t want no fucking needy kid of yours knocking at my door! Got it?’

      With