Finders Keepers Edie Baylis (phonics readers .TXT) 📖

Joe hesitated before moving around the other side of the car. He glanced around several more times before finally getting in. ‘Can we drive?’

‘Drive?’ Robert glanced at Joe. ‘Drive where? I just want to know what’s going on.’

Joe swallowed nervously. ‘I’ll tell you everything, I promise, but I can’t stay around here. In case... in case they see me.’

Robert fired the engine and slammed the car into gear. ‘In case who sees you?’

Joe looked out of the window, hunching down to make himself as small as possible. ‘Please... just drive...’

Slamming his foot on the accelerator, Robert screeched off. He hadn’t got a clue where he was going, but it would be somewhere close by and then this prick could tell him what the hell was happening.

Thirty Two

‘I’M FINE,’ KEITH GROWLED. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’ He busied himself turning towards the bar, nodding to the barman to pour his usual. He made a point of not looking back at Nero, knowing the man was directly behind him, studying him suspiciously.

Keith had made the conscious decision to go into the main club area of the Feathers rather than an office or the VIP suite like he would normally, purely to avoid being around anyone. He didn’t want a conversation - mainly because he was terrified of what he might say. And now Nero had showed up? Nero never came into the main club. It was just so typical. Why couldn’t he be left alone?

Taking his fresh drink, Keith returned to his table, the one he’d purposefully picked well away from everyone, right at the back and knew Nero would shortly follow him. He didn’t want to be followed. He just wanted to be left the hell alone. He needed to be left alone because for once in as long as he could remember, if not ever, he didn’t have a clue what to do about what he’d witnessed. What he’d seen put him in a position he didn’t want to be in at all.

Sitting down, Keith took a long slug of his pint and fished his cigarettes from his pocket, wasting no time in shoving one into his mouth. Realising his fingers were unconsciously rubbing the angry red mark around his neck where Saul had grabbed him, he jerked his hand away. The last thing he wanted was to draw attention to that.

Short of the handful of injuries he’d received on the few occasions where he’d been jumped by a multitude of men, no one ever got the chance to lay a finger on him.

Like most of the Powell firm, Keith was notorious for his speed and viciousness, but this had been Saul and Saul was one step beyond when it came to speed, stealth and mode of attack. Keith had never dreamt that Saul Powell would lay a hand on him, but then neither had he dreamt he’d be faced with what he’d seen tonight. It had thrown everything out of the water, but the question was, what was he going to do about it?

Keith turned his pint around on the table and reflected sadly. Out of all the years he’d known Saul; the situations they’d found themselves in, the beatings they’d doled out, the shit they’d done and the schemes they’d engineered – they’d done it all together.

Like two peas in a pod, everyone always said that they were more like brothers and Keith had always taken that as a compliment – a massive compliment. To be classed on the same parallel as the infamous Saul Powell was akin to the highest accolade men like him could have. It was something he’d always been proud of. Until now.

Keith might have the same way of thinking where violence and enforcement were concerned and might also like his women on tap, but he was no fucking rapist pervert.

He dragged deeply on his cigarette, blanking one of the dancer’s enticing come hither looks. Normally, he’d be on that like a shot, but tonight that prospect was the furthest thing from his mind.

His weather-worn face crumpled into a scowl. Grabbing his drink, he tipped it down his throat. That was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Opening that bedroom door he’d seen what Saul was doing. He’d seen it with his own eyes.

Drugging someone up and manacling them to a bed to get them to talk was one thing, but fucking them to ribbons when they were out of it and helpless was not. In the space of a few seconds, everything Keith felt for Saul – the brotherhood, respect and loyalty had been razed to a pile of wood shavings. Regardless of what he wanted or didn’t want, he couldn’t do anything to backtrack that. And he wanted to backtrack it. In fact, he wanted to delete this evening from his mind like a crap program by taping over it with something else, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t unsee it.

And all Saul had been bothered about was being interrupted and questioned over his decisions. Exactly what did that say about the man he’d spent so very long idolising.

‘Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or not?’

Keith’s head snapped up, focusing on Nero’s all-seeing eyes studying him intently over the table. He hadn’t even noticed him sit down. ‘There’s nothing to say.’

Except there was. There was plenty to say, but if he told Nero, then Nero would tell Jonah. Jonah would kill both him and Saul for a) doing stuff behind his back over the Dulcie Adams’ business and b) what had been done to the girl. Everyone knew Jonah’s values when it came to women and to be fair, Jonah or not, the vast majority of people would also have an issue with what Saul had done.

Keith admitted he hadn’t been comfortable with Saul’s insistence on getting the girl as hooked on brown as possible, but at a push could see the reasoning behind that, but as for the rest... No