“So you’re telling me that Tiffany has been feeding information to your brother?” I ask Titch just to be certain I’ve heard her right, because fuck if I’m not a little gobsmacked by the news. Given the looks on Xeno, Dax and Zayn’s faces they’re struggling to wrap their heads around the idea too. We all know Tiffany’s a crazy bitch, but getting mixed up with David and Santiago? That’s batshit crazy. Then again, she’s the type of woman who’ll do anything it takes to get what she wants. So maybe it ain’t too much of a stretch.
“Yes. I’ve just explained this,” Titch says, looking at us all in exasperation as Beast places a round of drinks on the table in front of us.
We’re all back at Tales once again, but this time D-Neath isn’t joining in on our little tête-à-tête, because he’s currently tied to a chair beneath our feet in the basement, being guarded by one of the ghosts and most likely shitting his pants. Everyone knows that if you enter Beast’s basement you don’t come out of it again. Sucks to be him.
“It makes perfect sense,” she continues. “Tiffany has tried to get into bed with all four of you at some point, but you turned her down because of me—”
“Conniving little bitch,” Grim says, rolling her eyes. “Doesn’t she understand girl-code?”
“Nah, she only knows bitch-mode,” I say, winking at Titch.
“Anyway, when she couldn’t get into your beds, the next logical person to try was D-Neath. It wouldn’t have taken much for my brother to persuade her to sleep with D-Neath if he had something good enough to barter with. Don’t you think it’s a little suspicious that she’s suddenly got a spot at the Royal Academy of Ballet? That’s the most exclusive ballet school in the world. It’s all a little too convenient.”
“And you really think your brother has pulled some strings to get her the spot there in exchange for sleeping with D-Neath?” Xeno asks, knocking back a shot of brandy.
“Yes, I do,” she replies.
“But David’s a criminal who specialises in drug racketeering and selling women in the sex trade. He hasn’t lived in the UK for three years. How is he suddenly able to secure her a place at the Royal Academy between murdering your mum, setting Rocks alight and sending sick messages? He’s only been back in the country a few weeks,” Zayn adds.
Beast shakes his head. “Come on now, don’t be so thick in the head. There are plenty of posh nobs with skeletons in their closets and secrets in their beds. I’m willing to bet Tales on the fact that whoever gave Tiffany that spot has some pretty nasty shit they need to hide.”
“Beast is right, they’re exactly the type of people who have the money and the means to buy anything they want. From drugs to human slaves, sexual or otherwise. This makes a lot of sense,” Grim agrees, reaching for her phone that’s resting on the bar. “I’m going to call Hud, fill him in. He’s been held up with something at work, but whilst he’s there I want him to do a little background check on this Tiffany girl. You don’t happen to know her surname?”
“I don’t, but Clancy will. Let me drop her a text,” Titch replies, pulling out her phone.
“No, don’t do that. She’ll only ask why you want to know, and we don’t need to get her involved in this if we can help it. Let me call Tuillard instead,” Xeno suggests.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” Titch tucks her phone away and we all wait whilst he strides over to the cage and makes the call.
Less than a minute later, he’s back. “You’ll never believe this.”
“What?” Dax asks, leaning forward and placing his forearms on the table. I swear the guy has got bigger overnight. He’s like the motherfucking Hulk, except he ain’t green, doesn’t rip out of his clothes when he gets angry and can be a gentle fuck when he wants to be. I’m pretty sure he’s been working out extra hard as a way to block out this stupid fucking prediction hanging over his head. He won’t admit that it’s got him all paranoid.
“Tiffany’s surname is Allen.”
“And? Pretty fucking standard surname if you ask me. What’s the big deal?” Beast asks.
“Hold on. Allen, as in Nicholas Allen?” I ask, remembering what Hudson had told us about The Pink Albatross nightclub D-Neath owns and how he won it from a dude with the same name in a game of cards.
“Fuck!” Zayn exclaims.
Dax whistles and Titch’s mouth drops open. “Do you think she could be…?”
“Nicholas Allen’s daughter? Given everything we now know, I’m betting on it,” Xeno says. He exchanges looks with Grim who grabs her phone, calling Hudson.
“Well, fuck, ain’t this all coming together in a nice little bow,” Beast says, slurping on his pint of Guinness.
Titch frowns. “You don’t sound so certain.”
“In my experience, when something is too good to be true, it normally is. I’m going to reserve judgement about this whole theory until we’ve had a little chat with our buddy, D-Neath.”
“You heard her, answer the damn question. Have you been fucking around on Madame Tuillard?” Beast snarls, gripping D-Neath’s jaw roughly, before letting it go. “Be careful how you answer. This might be a life or death situation right about now.”
“Come on, man. Pussy ain’t got shit all to do with this. I ain’t no snake. Let me go,” he replies, struggling against the restraints. His wrists are red, raw from the tightness of the rope wrapped around them and his persistent struggle to get away. He should know by now that the only way he’s getting out of here alive is if Grim or Beast allow it. D-Neath looks at Xeno, jerking his chin. “You know I ain’t about to sell you out, right?”
Xeno folds his arms over his chest, his expression a well-trained mask. “I don’t know D-Neath, this is all looking pretty fucking suss to me.”
“This is bullshit,” he mutters, futilely yanking at his restraints.
“You need a piss break, squirming around like that?” Beast comments, laughing when D-Neath looks at him hopefully. “Yeah, not gonna happen. You need to take a piss, go right ahead.”
“Fucking gross,” I mutter. Like any of us need him pissing his pants and adding more noxious fumes to the disgusting stench of this blood and piss encrusted concrete room situated in the basement of Tales.
“We’re waiting. Have you been fucking around on Madame Tuillard?” Beast insists, folding his arms over his chest.
“Why the fuck does it matter who I’m banging?”
“It matters, dipshit, when the person you’re fucking is passing on information to David and Santiago!” Beast counters angrily as we all watch on. There isn’t one person in this room who doesn’t want to knock D-Neath’s lights out. Grim is staring at him stone-faced. Xeno, Dax, and Zayn all look like they want to murder him, and Titch is glaring at him with a mixture of disgust and pity. Her heart’s way too good for this place. Frankly, the fact that she’s even down here doesn’t sit right with me, but she insisted and so here we all are.
“What the fuck?!” he exclaims, shaking his head. “No, man, that can’t be right. I ain’t said jackshit to anyone. I swear on my life.”
“Cheaters lie, right? So what makes you think we’d believe anything you’d say?” Beast replies, slapping D-Neath’s face before bringing his fist back and following it up with a punch. He hits him so hard that D-Neath’s head snaps to the side and he topples to the floor with the chair still strapped to his body, out cold.
Titch gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. “Beast, what are you doing?”
“I told you, Pen, just because you’ve gone all detective on us, doesn’t mean that what you believe to be true is actually true.”
“This makes the most sense,” she counters. “You said so yourself.”
“Look, whether you like it or not we gotta be sure he’s just a cunt who thinks with his dick and not a dick who is selling us out to some bastard cunt,” Beast counters, flexing his fingers. “Because believe me, there are two very different outcomes depending on what is actually going on.”
“So you’re going to beat him until he confesses?”
“Pretty much.”
“Does that usually work when someone is actually telling the truth?”
“Every single person who ends up in my basement is a liar. The truth always comes out, one way or another, and I’m an expert at getting the fuckers to spill it.”
“Tiny, I think you should go upstairs with York. You don’t need to witness this,” Xeno says, jerking his chin towards the door whilst keeping his gaze pinned on me. I expect he wants me to take her, and whilst I agree that she shouldn’t be down here, I shake my head. There’s no way Titch is going to leave and I’m not going to be the one to force her either. Her sense of right and wrong is the most evenly balanced out of all of us. Maybe we need her here to temper the rest of us hotheads. I don’t really give a shit about whether D-Neath lives or dies, but on the other hand we don’t really need another murder on our rap sheet, it’s already a mile long.
“I’m staying. If only to make sure Beast doesn’t kill him,” she retorts firmly.
“Seriously, Kid, you should go,” Dax says, backing Xeno. Like me, he knows this isn’t going to end well.
“No.” She cuts him a look then glares at Zayn who is about to say the same thing. “I’m staying.”
“Suit yourself,” Beast says as he yanks D-Neath upright. “Wakey, wakey, rise and shine!”
Duncan’s head lolls to the side and it takes another minute or so for him to gain full consciousness, even with Beast slapping his face and shaking him. Eventually, when his eyes focus and he’s back in the room with us, he swallows hard staring at Beast who’s currently right up in his face.
“I swear on my life, Beast. I didn’t say anything to anyone,” he says.
“You didn’t need to. Turns out that pretty piece of pussy you’ve been fucking around with has been extracting information about our plan right from under your nose, most likely when you’ve passed out from an orgasm coma. Did no one ever tell you to password protect your shit?”
D-Neath’s face pales. “The fuck?!”
“Yeah, fuck indeed. Clearly you keep your brains in your cock,” Beast says, grabbing his split lip and squeezing hard. D-Neath groans. “Because that girl you’ve been fucking has been feeding information back to David, and David has been sharing that information with Santiago. Which means, fuckface, that your cheating arse has blown this whole thing wide open all for a bit of pussy. Now we’re on a back foot because of you.”
D-Neath bares his teeth, blood staining them red as he tries to speak. Beast lets his lip go and waits. “Look, I get you’re upset, but I made a mistake. How was I to know who that bitch was working for?”
“That’s your apology?” Grim makes a scoffing noise then strides across to the back of the room where an array of weapons are spread out on an aluminium tray. She takes her time strolling up and down in front of them before picking up a serrated-edged blade. In her leather trousers and black shirt combo, paired with high heels and dash of red lipstick, she looks the perfect part of villainess. If my heart and soul didn’t already belong to Titch, I’d have a hard-on for this woman.
“You know what I hate more than liars, Beast?”
“No, what’s that, babe?” he asks, as she steps up beside him, waving the knife in front of D-Neath’s face.
“It’s a liar and a cheat.” Handing the knife to Beast, she says, “Chop his dick off and pickle it. Madame Tuillard can keep it as a souvenir.”
“What the fuck! No! Jesus fucking Christ! I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry.”
“Grim, Jesus!” Titch exclaims, the blood draining from her face. “He might be a cheating bastard, but he didn’t knowingly do this.”
Grim folds her arms across her chest and sighs, reverting her attention back to D-Neath. “Sorry really doesn’t cut it. But luckily for you, Pen is here today, and she requested that we don’t chop off any appendages. This time.”
“Thank you. Thank you, Pen,” D-Neath says, and I can’t help but cringe a little at the way his teeth chatter from the rush of fear chased up with a shot of adrenaline. If he pisses himself I might just have to bleach my eyes out. He’s gone from someone we all respected, if not liked, to someone we wouldn’t piss on if he were on fire.
“Don’t thank me,” Titch replies. “We’re not friends. I just don’t want anyone I care about getting sent to prison because they murdered your sorry, cheating arse.”
“It’s an addiction…” he mumbles, trying to gain our sympathy.
“Fuck off, Duncan,” Zayn says, curling his lip in disgust. “You’ve got a beautiful woman willing to put up with your bullshit and you go fuck around on her with some little conniving whore. What the fuck’s up with that?”
“I’ll make it up to her. I swear it. I know what I’ve got. I love her…”
Titch laughs. “Got? Don’t you mean had?” Titch steps closer to D-Neath, narrowing her eyes at him. “Madame Tuillard wanted me to pass on a message.”
“Yeah?” he asks.
“You’ve got 24 hours to get your shit out of her flat.”
D-Neath’s shoulders drop and for a moment he looks genuinely sorry. “Thought that might be the case.”
“Oh, and one more thing…” Titch adds, glaring at him. “She also asked me to tell you to go fuck yourself.”
Grim throws her head back and laughs. “I like this Madame Tuillard. She’s my kind of woman.”
“Look,” D-Neath begins. “I know I fucked up. I’ll do anything to put it right. I swear to fuck I didn’t know what she was doing. We can still see this through. Let me make this right. I’ll do anything.”
Grim raises her brow. “Actually, there is something you can do. I need you to dial this number,” she says, holding up the piece of paper Titch gave her earlier.
“Sure, whatever you want,” he agrees.
“I need you to take your bitch on the side for a nice swanky meal for two tonight at Chez Rouge on Grafton Street.”
“Why?”
“Well it ain’t because we want you to get your leg over, dipshit,” Beast says. “Fuck, I really did hit you hard, didn’t I?”
“We want you to wine and dine her, get her nice and tipsy, then steal her phone. We’ll put one of the ghosts on her tail too, see if we can’t get her to lead us right back to David and Santiago.”
“No problem. I’ll do it.”
Grim smiles, but it’s not the same smile that she gives to Beast or one of her friends. No, this is a smile she reserves only for her enemies. If D-Neath wasn’t in her good graces before, then he sure as fuck is on her shitlist now. She nods to Beast and he cuts the rope from one wrist so that D-Neath can take back his mobile and dial the number.
“Put it on loudspeaker,” she orders, “And you’d better hope to fuck that your bitch on the side answers because if she doesn’t and it’s David or Santiago, then you’ll be leaving this room in a bodybag. Got it.”
“It won’t be them. I swear to you.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” Beast asks. “Dial the fucking number.”
D-Neath nods, tapping in the digits.
“Hello? D-Neath?” a familiar voice answers after the third ring.
“The fuck?” I whisper.
Beside me, Titch wobbles on her feet and I’m forced to slam my palm over her mouth to stop her from saying something to give us away, because it ain’t Tiffany on the other end of the line, but Clancy.
