Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128585 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 643(@200wpm)___ 514(@250wpm)___ 429(@300wpm)
Vinnie laughed louder, his sick, taunting laugh directed right at a flinching Ollie. The laugh most of Vin’s victims heard right before he tore out their throats. “A-tishoo, a-tishoo,” he sang, then pointed his finger at Ollie and Nick, fucking death in his gaze. “They all fall down.”
“You’re all fucking tapped,” Ollie snarled, tapping his head. “Fucked in the head.”
“A correct assessment,” Freddie said, the look in his eyes just fucking daring Ollie to strike.
Ollie reached into his pocket. I watched him like a hawk. But the pussy wouldn’t dare attack us; it wasn’t who he was. He just pulled out a piece of paper and placed it on the table before Sammy. “This is what we’re prepared to give you. Let me know what you decide.”
Ollie flicked his head at Nick, and the two of them walked out of the meeting. When the door was shut, Sammy said, “I was never giving it to that sniffling prick. I owed his father a favour. I always pay my debts. That was the last one—just letting that posh wanker in here for this meeting was payment enough to his old man. Debt done.”
“His dad died last year,” Eric said.
“Call me old-fashioned, but an outstanding debt is still an outstanding debt.” Sammy shook his head, laughing and sucking on his pipe. “The dock’s yours.” He winked at me. “It’s always been for the EastEnders. If you’re not born-and-bred cockney, you’re not getting shit from me.”
I stood and shook Sammy’s hand. “Essex, Sammy. Really?”
He shrugged. “The old ball and chain wanted out of the city. Couldn’t be arsed to fight her on it. I’m old and don’t have the fucking energy anymore.”
“The money’ll be dropped off tonight,” Eric said, shaking Sammy’s hand too.
As we turned to leave, Sammy said, “Heavy is the head that wears the crown, Arthur.” I stopped and turned to one of my old man’s closest friends. He was sat back in his seat, pipe in his mouth. He was staring right at me.
“Luckily, I have a fucking strong neck.”
Sammy didn’t react, but then he nodded, getting the message to leave it. If anyone else had said that it wouldn’t have been without consequence. But this was Old Sammy. He was a fucking East End institution. He was family.
“Plus, haven’t you heard?” Eric wrapped his arm around my neck. “The king here has his fucking Round Table to keep him in check. Just ask Lawson.”
“That he does,” Sammy said and nodded at his man to open the doors. We left, and I climbed in the first car. Charlie got in too. The rest of the boys took their seats in the car behind us.
When we pulled out, en route back to Bethnal Green, Charlie said, “I’m getting people on Lawson. That fucker rubs me the wrong way.”
I lit up my cig and took a deep inhale. “He’s a fucking pretender. A rich tosser playing with Daddy’s money.” I took another drag. “The wanker wouldn’t know what to do if he really wanted to play outside of the rules and stepped into the underworld. He’d be fucking ripped apart the second he made it through the gates.”
“Still, the way he stared at you,” Charlie said, looking out of the window, watching the trees blur into one long dark line. “I’m putting men on him. I want to know if he even shits the wrong way. That fucker’s not sitting well with me.”
I remembered how, in Marbella, he was all over Cheska like a fucking rash. The guy was a bloody creep. But let Charlie tail him. If that fucker stepped even an inch out of line, I wanted know. I rolled down my window and flicked my finished cig onto the road. Cold wind filled the car, and I let it wash over my face.
“You got everything sorted for tomorrow night?” I asked Charlie.
“Done.” My cousin smiled. “Should be a good one.”
I nodded my head. I couldn’t fucking wait. I had pent-up anger I needed to unleash.
And unleash it I fucking would.
I sat beside the fire in my old man’s old study. There were no windows in the smallish room. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covered all four walls. Two library ladders leaned against them on either side of the room. The old desk took up the north side, and two wingback armchairs sat before the large fireplace. A small table sat between the chairs. And on top was my grandfather’s old chessboard.
I sat in one of the armchairs. I’d been here for hours. I knew it was dark outside. But I had no fucking idea what time it was. Two in the morning, maybe? I didn’t fucking care. I was nocturnal by nature. Late nights were nothing new.
A large gin sat in front of me. Only the lights from the fire and a standing lamp filled the room. This was my old man’s favourite room. A place where he could shut out the world and the pressures of leading the family for a fucking minute.