The only thing that relieves tension when I’m wound up this tightly is to get the shit kicked out of me by my trainer. He’s an Albanian hard nut who trained world heavyweight champions and now wants an easier life. I pay an extortionate amount to have him at my beck and call in the gym, and it’s worth every penny.
“Jack.” Sean knocks at my office door. “Give me a minute.”
Grunting, I beckon him in.
He eyes the gym bag. “Something happened that you need to let off steam?”
“If you’ve got something to say, out with it, Sean.”
He closes the door behind him.
“This better not take long.”
“It won’t.” He smirks. “Shoot me down for overstepping but don’t you think you were a little hard on Bonnie?”
I fold my arms across my chest. “Then stop overstepping. No, I don’t think I was too hard. Do you know how everyone else looks when they walk into that boardroom? Fucking appreciative. She looked like she was stuck in traffic on the motorway.”
God, she pissed me off.
Sean chuckles. “Fair enough. She looked a bit distracted. Just don’t be too hasty, okay? Max just told me that he’d spoken to her about having a new girlfriend. Apparently, Bonnie found out just before the meeting.”
“So?” I snap. “They’ve been split up for months.”
“It was poor timing on his part. He didn’t think she’d take it so badly.”
“You’re telling me she’s fucking up this opportunity because her ex is seeing someone new?” My jaw tightens. The morning after the wedding, she basically told me she cock-teased me to make Max jealous. Max, the fucking fool who gave her up.
“I get the sense it’s not just about him seeing someone new. His new girlfriend works at Bradshaw, too, which is a dick move. They’ve been seeing each other for a few months. When were Max and Bonnie supposed to get married? Max has been pretty quiet about this new relationship, but you do the math.”
“Since when did you become a fucking agony aunt,” I reply flatly.
One of his brows arches. “Come on, mate. I know you don’t do the relationship thing, but surely you can feel some sympathy for the girl. It’s a hard situation. She had a bad day.”
I pick up my gym bag and open the door. Then pause. “Did you talk to Bonnie about it?”
“About you kicking her out of the meeting? Very briefly. I said you’d calm down eventually. Which you will.”
“Not the meeting.”
“Oh, what then?” He’s going to make me work for it.
“About whether she’s upset that Max is dating,” I grit out.
His eyes twinkle as if I’ve spilled some big secret. “Nope. I messaged my wife after Max told me.” He smiles at me with fake innocence. “Why do you ask?”
“No reason,” I snap, walking out the door. “Unless you’re joining me to get trounced for the millionth time in your life, I’m out of here. Later.”
My phone vibrates in my pocket as I head to the gym. I take it out, and my heart rate spikes when I see the name on the screen.
“McKenzie,” I say, answering.
McKenzie was, and still is, the police officer assigned to Dad’s case. Technically, the murder case is still open, but that means shit. After so many years, it’s just a record in a police database.
Nothing stuck to Wicks. It was all circumstantial evidence. No DNA. No witnesses willing to go up against the Wicks clan. No weapons found. Nothing but a pile of bent coppers on the Wicks payroll.
When Dad was stabbed, I was twenty-nine, but the money was already rolling in. Against the Wicks’ reputation, it was worthless. No one would talk.
The fact that Wicks is doing life for another crime is irrelevant. Two years after Dad’s murder, the Wicks family became too arrogant. They started believing their East End myth that they were untouchable. But with arrogance comes sloppiness.
So much evidence was dropped into the hands of the police that they would have been a laughing stock not to nail Wicks and a major operation finally took down the most senior bosses of the cartel in a media circus.
It’s not enough. I won’t rest until Dad’s death is added to their criminal record.
It means fuck all to Donnie Wicks. He’s not getting out, and he’s got a good life in the brink. Another entry in the police database won’t bother him.
But maybe I’ll sleep a little easier at night.
In the early days following Dad’s death, I hounded McKenzie and everyone in his unit. Obsessing over nailing Wicks was a good distraction from what was really breaking me – Dad was gone.
McKenzie clears his throat. “Wicks is dying.”
That’s why I like the guy; he cuts to the chase.
“I know. Cancer. I’m hoping it’s the long-suffering type and he dies a slow, painful death.” I hope the guy is in so much pain he howls like I did when I found out Dad was dead. Fucking broken. “Anything I don’t know?”
He pauses. “He wants to see you.”
Anger courses through my veins. “Why?”
“He won’t say. He wants you to arrange a visit.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “He wants to get all his sins out in the wash?”
“Don’t hold your breath, son. Honest to God, I’ve no clue what he wants. He’s not saying a word unless it’s to you. The only way you’ll know is if you see him.”
I’m surprisingly calm, considering I’ve been waiting nearly a decade for this. Wicks has consistently refused to see me.
“Well, what’s it to be, Jack? Am I arranging it?”
“Do it.”
