The Hunted. Kerry Barnes

      Mike huffed. ‘Well, that ain’t gonna happen – ever!’

      Izzy leered. ‘Our deal was that if you messed this little arrangement up, then you would be on my firm under my control. Remember, Mike, you are a man of your word. I hope your sidekicks are preparing to be answerable to me.’

      Mike got up to leave. He bit his tongue before he said something he would regret because there was no way he would be working for Izzy the Jew – not while he had a pair of balls.

      Izzy grinned to himself as he watched Mike leave. He was fully aware of the clout Mike had. He wanted him on his firm, as head honcho if need be, since Mike was gaining a reputation faster than Durex sales during the Aids scare.

      Once outside, Mike clocked the tall figure, leaning with her back arched against a newly built brick wall. She was drawing on a long black cigarette holder. For a second, Mike saw her as a flapper girl from the 1920s. Bonnie and Clyde sprang to mind. He stopped and pulled a packet of cigarettes from his inside pocket and flicked open the lid to his engraved silver lighter. Before he put it back into his pocket, he looked at the etched image of his son. He made a mental note to call and make sure Jackie and Ricky had reached Spain safely.

      ‘Have you upset Daddy, by any chance, Mikey?’ Her words were cold and oozed confidence. He stepped closer and noticed her milky white skin had just a hint of pink, especially on her bare shoulders.

      ‘You need sunscreen in this weather, Zara.’

      She looked his way, ignoring his comment, and then she turned to blow smoke in his direction, her eyes narrowing in displeasure.

      ‘How are you?’ he asked, with a smirk across his face.

      She pushed herself away from the wall. ‘I’m fine, Mikey. Why shouldn’t I be?’

      Removing the cigarette butt from the holder, she threw it to the ground and placed her open-toe shoe over the top, stubbing it out.

      She started to walk away, acting as if she had no interest in him, but he knew she rarely smoked and had been waiting for him – maybe just to see if there was still a little spark between them.

      ‘So, you’re back then?’

      She shot him a look of anger. ‘I have been for a while. How’s Julie … Joanne, or whatever her name is?’

      ‘You mean Jackie? She’s a pain in the arse, a nightmare … but, hey-ho, life’s a bitch, and I certainly married one.’

      She searched his eyes for any sign that he still had that sexual hunger for her, knowing she could never read him. ‘Well, you made your bed, Mikey. Your circus, your monkey.’

      He sighed and looked her up and down. ‘Yep, Zara, you got that right.’ There was an awkward silence for a few seconds. She assumed he still had feelings, or he would have waved and said goodbye – not stood there, looking her over.

      ‘Well, Mikey, you bred with her.’

      Mike had to bite his tongue. That comment was crass and in fact quite vile. His son was his world, and so the words stuck in his throat.

      She clocked his stern expression. ‘Don’t look so offended, Mikey. It’s true. You married her and had a kid, so she must mean something.’ Zara took a step closer with a sneer plastered across her face. ‘Unless, that is, Mikey, she is just an exceptionally good fuck.’

      In an instant, he grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her face an inch from his. ‘Nah, Zara. You were that.’ And then he planted his lips on hers. Even though she struggled, he held her there, until he felt her relax and then he let her go.

      She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. ‘You bastard!’

      Trying to steady his breathing, he shook his head and walked away. He had to make his head rule his heart – once bitten, twice shy. As much as he felt the surge of excitement and rush of lust, she was still the woman who’d left him. Unable to look back, afraid of his own feelings, he marched on ahead. He shouldn’t have kissed her either, but he wanted to demonstrate his power. Seven years ago, he would never have grabbed her like that – ever.

      Zara watched him, her mind all over the place. She was seething, but as soon as he was out of sight, she calmed down and then smiled. There was an upside to this latest encounter: he still wanted her. But would he still, if he knew how much had changed?

      * * *

      By the time Mike returned home and called a meeting, the lads had done their homework on the Harman family and located the address where each family member lived.

      ‘How’d it go with Izzy?’ enquired Eric.

      Mike raised his brow. ‘As expected, he wants the Harmans dealt with as much as we do.’ Not wanting to concern the lads, he deliberately left out the threat Izzy had made.

      ‘Was he on his own?’ asked Eric, trying to sound nonchalant but failing miserably.

      Mike stiffened and turned to face his brother. ‘Do you mean was Zara there?’

      Eric shrugged. ‘No, not really. I meant anyone.’

      ‘Yes, Eric, I saw Zara.’

      Dying to know what went on, Eric had to bite his lip; he couldn’t appear too eager.

      Unexpectedly, Mike snapped at him. ‘You fucking knew she was back, didn’t ya?’

      Eric felt his face flush red. He looked at the others who had now almost frozen to the spot in disbelief.

      ‘Well yeah, I did hear that a while ago, but what does it matter? You’re with Jackie and have Ricky. She’s …’

      The uncomfortable atmosphere spurred Lou to quickly change the subject. ‘Listen up. Harry, Vinnie, and Scottie Harman’s pads have all been checked over. It seems they’ve gone into hiding. The only place not accounted for is their ol’ man’s.’

      Mike sensed that the Zara discussion should be kept separate from the business at hand. He shot Eric a disparaging glare before calling for action.

      ‘Right, then. Eric and Willie, you come with me. Get a tool and put on a first-class bastard attitude because we’re paying the Harman family’s home a visit.’

      Eric looked away to ensure that his brother couldn’t see the darkened scowl on his face. He wasn’t capable of keeping a steely fixed expression like Mike could. In fact, if he was honest, he knew they weren’t cut from the same cloth. And being riled up because Mike met up with Zara was taking his focus away from the job in hand.

      Staffie jumped up. ‘I wanna come, ’cos I have a fucking monkey wrench with the name Harman carved on it.’

      Mike shook his head. ‘No! Sorry, mate, but your temper will be a liability.’ He held up his hands. ‘Trust me, Staffie. You’ll get a chance to leave ya mark, so be patient. You stop ’ere with Lou.’

      With red-rimmed eyes and a sulky pout, Staffie slumped back into his armchair and gulped back the last of his drink. ‘Yeah, well, if you weren’t such a lump, Mike Regan, I’d tell you to go and fuck yaself.’

      Mike grinned and gently tapped Staffie’s face. ‘Yeah, and if I didn’t love ya so much, I’d clump ya for that comment.’

      ‘I want my time with them, though, Mikey. Don’t you kill ’em before I leave my mark.’

      ‘Staffie, I’m a man of my word. You go and find that monkey wrench.’ He winked and nodded for Willie and Eric to follow him.

      Within the hour, Mike was in Lee Green, driving slowly along the road to Frank Harman’s place. He looked at the house numbers and then clocked all the cars in the street, knowing that Harry and his two brothers all drove black Mercedes with private number plates. Yet this street had no flash cars parked with two wheels over the kerb.

      ‘Looks like the Harmans are not at home, boys.’

      ‘What