Lord of London Town Page 29

  “He’s a good kid,” he said, and I smiled in agreement.

  “He’s only five years younger than you, but he seems tired, like he’s old and weary.”

  Arthur sat beside me. “He’s had a rough life. Was always at war with himself. But hopefully he’s getting better. Eric seems to think this time he might make it without relapsing.”

  I wondered about Gene and how he seemed to light up around Charlie, at the mere mention of Arthur’s cousin. Then I thought back to Charlie today, how he’d watched Gene under the tree, his dark eyes unreadable. I kept those thoughts to myself. It was none of my business.

  Arthur took my hand and kissed the back of my palm. “I never got chance to give you your birthday present the other night.”

  I smiled, and Arthur pulled out a box from his trouser pocket. He opened the lid, and inside was a large set of diamond earrings. “My mum’s,” he said, and my head snapped up.

  “Arthur, I can’t—”

  “I want you to have them.” He squeezed my hand. For a second, he seemed nervous. I had never seen Arthur nervous. I hadn’t been sure he could even get nervous. “Cheska,” he said, voice husky. “Fucking take them, princess.” He put them in my palm. “I need you to take them.”

  “Okay.” I ran my finger over the vintage diamonds. “They’re beautiful,” I whispered. Arthur got up and went to the jacket he’d slung over the chair. He pulled out a bigger square box that looked like it housed a bracelet or something similar.

  “Arthur,” I said as he crouched in front of me and placed it on my lap. “I can’t accept this too. It’s all too much.” Arthur opened the box, and a band of silver stared back at me, thicker in width than most bracelets but no less stunning. “It’s gorgeous,” I said. But when I looked up, Arthur’s expression was guarded. My stomach turned. “What?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I had this made for you.”

  “Okay …” I said carefully. The air between us had risen in temperature, thickened with tension—one I didn’t understand the genesis of. I placed the box beside me on the bed and put my hands on Arthur’s face.

  He reached for the bracelet and took it from the box. He was silent, shoulders tensed as he placed it on my wrist, clicking the ends together. Once it was fixed together, the joint disappeared, and I realised that it was the type of bracelet that had to be cut off. It was incredibly pretty, but when Arthur exhaled a long, relieved breath, his shoulders sagging, I knew this being on my wrist meant more than mere decoration.

  “Arth—”

  “I need you to wear this,” he said, voice tight. His eyes were wide, almost possessed. “You can’t take it off unless it’s cut off.”

  “Okay.” I tried to study the bracelet, to see what was so special about it. But it just looked like any other. Gorgeous. But nothing out of the ordinary.

  “I had it made for you. By a jeweller I know.” He swallowed, then his face grew stern as he met my eyes. “It has a tracker built into it.”

  The world stopped. Everything stopped. But my heart beat faster and faster, and suddenly the lightweight bracelet around my wrist felt like an anvil.

  “What?” I said, my voice shaking in anger, real anger. I turned my wrist over, taking in every curve of the bracelet. I couldn’t see evidence of a tracker, but then I had no idea what one even looked like.

  I held out my wrist. “Take it off me.”

  Arthur clenched his jaw, and his cheeks turned red. His eyes narrowed, and the Arthur of old surfaced. “Take it off me!” I said louder, my voice carrying authority around the large room. “Now, Arthur. And if you can’t, get me someone who can. I don’t want a tracker on me.”

  Arthur got to his feet, positively vibrating. “No,” he said stubbornly, and my anger levels rose to match his. “No!” he bit out again, seeing me about to stand and challenge him.

  Arthur’s hands slid through his hair and he became … undone. He unravelled before me, the cool exterior he always wore cracking down the centre, and a manic and haunted man was revealed underneath. He paced back and forth in front of me, neck corded and veins protruding from his muscles.

  “You have to wear it,” he said curtly, but I heard the slight trembling of his voice. The betrayal of his unease. I was mute. I didn’t know what to say, seeing him this way. He was always so calm and collected. I didn’t understand why he was like this over a tracker. Over a bracelet.

  “Arth—”

  “You have to fucking wear it!” he snapped, cutting me off again. I watched him pace like a wolf, hands in his hair, then dragging down his face. “Just in case.”

  I reached out and grabbed his hand. “Arthur,” I said sternly. “Stop.” He did. Stock-still. But his eyes were still blown. Still wide as he towered over me.

  He launched forward and placed his hands on either side of my head. “Listen to me,” he said, his eyes searching mine. “You have to be protected. I have to know where you are.”

  “Did … did something happen?” I asked, a trickle of fear crawling down my spine.

  Arthur laughed a single laugh, but it was without humour. “Did something happen?” He shook his head, then pressed his forehead to mine. “They killed my mum and sister,” he said quietly, so quietly it was heartbreaking. His hands were unyielding on my head, keeping me close. “They killed your old man, your wankstain of a fiancé, your two best mates, and they tried to fucking kidnap you,” Arthur hissed, eyes squeezing shut momentarily. “They fucking wanted to sell you. Like those cunts did Ronnie. Like they did the women in the shipping container.”

  “Baby—”

  “It’s them!” he said, his wild eyes imploring me to listen. To understand. “They’re the ones behind all the attacks on us. They’re the ones sneaking around, fucking with us. And I don’t know who they are. I don’t fucking know who they are!”

  Desperately, he smashed his lips to mine. The kiss wasn’t gentle. It was raw and savage and unrestrained. When he broke away, my lips felt empty. “I can’t have them taking you. If something happens, if they strike again, if they fucking get to us somehow, I need to be able to find you.” His hand slid down to the wrist that wore the bracelet. “This makes it so I can find you. If everything goes up in fucking flames, I’ll be able to find you.” His skin drained of colour and his voice broke to half a whisper. “I can’t fucking lose you,” he said, so sadly it stabbed through my chest. “Princess … I can’t lose you too.”

  I put my hands on his face too, anger melting to sadness. We stood at the foot of his bed, hands on each other’s faces, holding on to one another for dear life.

  “Please,” Arthur said, and my blood cooled at the sound of someone like Arthur Adley pleading. “I’ll fucking beg if you need me to, princess. But …” His breathing hitched. “Just wear it for me. Please, just fucking wear it so I can fucking sleep.” I thought of the headstones in the garden. The ones he could barely acknowledge when he found me on the bench talking to Gene.

  “I can’t have you buried out there too,” he said, reading my mind. “Not you too … especially not fucking you.”

  “Okay, okay,” I said calmly and kissed his cheeks, his wrists and his lips—softly, soothingly, gently. “I’ll wear it,” I said. And I would. I didn’t like the idea of a tracker on me. But then I replayed the attackers tying my hands and gagging my mouth. Remembered being dragged down the stairs of the spa and almost forced into the van. I never wanted that to happen again. But if it ever did, I would have the knowledge that Arthur would find me.

  If this was the insurance Arthur needed to feel calm, I would do it for him. “I’ll wear it. I promise,” I assured, and Arthur started breathing normally. He had dark circles under his eyes, and I knew he hadn’t been sleeping. He was exhausted. And strung out. And worried for me. But there also seemed to be something more. Something else.

  “Have you found something out?” I searched his face, trying to understand what had triggered all of this.

  Arthur closed his eyes
and took a deep breath. He stepped back and pulled his hand back from my face. He lit a cigarette, took a calming inhale and rubbed the back of his neck. “Not yet. Just some things don’t seem to be adding up.” He stopped whatever he was going to say. “I think I’m going fucking mad,” he said and took another drag. “Fucking losing it.”

  “When was the last time you rested? Truly rested. When was the last time you slept?”

  “I can’t,” he said, dropping his gaze to the floor. “They’re fucking out there. And I can’t fucking find them. I always find anyone threatening us. But these fuckers, these snakes, they’re buried too deep. And …” He shook his head and dropped down to the bed. I kneeled on the floor in front of him.

  Arthur’s eyes fixed on the bracelet, and I felt the calmness bloom around him. The steadiness of his breath when the light glinted off the silver band. “You’re scared of these men,” I said, seeing through this outburst, this obsessive need for me to have the tracker on.

  Arthur laughed, and the mocking sound made my toes curl. But there was despair in it too. “Scared,” he said with another cold laugh. He shook his head, staring again at the floor as he finished his cigarette. “I’m not scared of any fucker in this town. They can come at me all they fucking want, guns blaring and shipping containers exploding. They can try and take me out—let them fucking come.” I frowned, not understanding the tortured look on his face.

  Arthur’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched. Then, on an exhale, he said, “I’m not scared of anything, including death.” He looked me dead in the eyes. “But I’m fucking terrified of them taking you. I fucking can’t breathe when I think of the cunts taking you, hurting you … killing you.”

  Tears pricked at my eyes and my throat tightened. Arthur put his hand on the back of my neck and pulled me forward, his forehead pressed to mine. “My biggest fear, my only fucking fear in this whole shitshow of a world, is you being taken away from me.” His finger ran over the bracelet, and I felt his fear down to my core. Because I feared it too. I didn’t want to live in a world where Arthur wasn’t by my side.

  “I won’t ever leave you,” I whispered.

  Arthur’s lip curled into a small smile. “Can I have that written in blood?”

  I sat back and, repeating the move I made to him in the pits, crossed my heart with my finger. Arthur pulled me to his mouth and kissed me. He kissed me and kissed me until I was breathless.

  “Come on,” I said when the tension in the room had ebbed away. “Let’s get a cup of tea.”

  Arthur took my offered hand and led me to the kitchen. He leaned against the countertop as I boiled the kettle and prepared the teapot. As I grabbed two cups from the cupboard, my stomach growled.

  I laughed at the sound, and Arthur’s eyebrows pulled down. “You haven’t eaten?”

  The kettle boiled, and I poured the water into the teapot. “I forgot,” I said. Arthur moved straight to the fridge.

  He looked at the bare shelves. “This is all there is.” He frowned at the container. “What the fuck is this?” he said, pulling a pomegranate salad from the second shelf.

  I smiled, and his eyes flared at my laugh. “It’s Betsy’s, I think.”

  He took the lid off the bowl and grabbed a fork from the drawer. “Well now it’s fucking yours.” I went to fix the tea, but Arthur turned me around. “Fuck the tea, princess. Eat.” He scooped pomegranate seeds onto the fork and brought them to my mouth. They burst on my tongue, and I groaned. I hadn’t realised how hungry I was.

  I licked my lips. “That’s good.”

  Arthur fed me another forkful, and another, until the entire bowl was gone. The infamous dark lord feeding his queen. By the time I had swallowed the last bite, Arthur was hard in his trousers and his pupils were blown.

  Growling, he yanked me to his chest and placed his hand possessively on the back of my neck. “You’re never leaving me. You understand? You’re fucking staying here forever.”

  I felt my thighs clench at his harsh, unyielding tone. “The tea,” I said as he started biting at my lips, unbuttoning my jeans.

  “Fuck the tea,” he hissed. “You’re going to ride my cock.” Arthur picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist, and took us back to our bedroom.

  The tea was completely forgotten.

  Chapter Fifteen

  ARTHUR

  I checked my phone. Ronnie and Vera hadn’t called me. They were still with the hackers. No fucker knew apart from me. I wanted as few people as possible to know about what they were doing. Even my family. They thought the girls were at a meeting with the Scousers up north. And I was keeping it that way.

  I had just got back from meeting with Old Sammy. The ex-boss still hadn’t heard anything about who’d attacked his old dock. They’d come for him too. Torched his betting shop in Millwall. The fucking Hangmen had been hit in Camden. The Irish and the Romani had been attacked too. Anyone who had ties to me. But last night they went for the Italians. There wasn’t a damn syndicate in all of London who wasn’t now after these pricks.

  But I wanted at them. Me. I wanted to find them and destroy them. They had a fucking bounty on their heads, and only I was going to collect it. The rest of the families could get in fucking line.

  I walked into the living room; the rest of my family had just returned from their duties. Cheska and Gene were sat together by the fire. Betsy was with Charlie and Vinnie. Eric and Freddie were talking at the bar.

  I’d just opened my mouth to get them all to report when my old man’s nurse came flying into the room. “Mr Adley,” she said, breathless, and my fucking blood turned to ice at the panicked expression on her face.

  “What?” I asked tightly. Every head in the room turned our way.

  Cheska was immediately beside me; Freddie came closer too. “He’s woken up,” the nurse said, and she may as well have fucking slammed a crowbar into my face.

  “What?”

  “He’s woken up. I’ve removed some of his equipment from him—mainly his breathing tube. I’ve called for the doctor. He’s in and out of consciousness. He’s extremely weak.” She smiled, and it lit up her entire face. “But he’s awake.”

  I didn’t move. Bloody couldn’t.

  I felt a hand lace through mine, then a firm grip on my bicep. I blinked and fucking slammed back to earth. Freddie was in front of me, as shocked as I was. “Artie,” he said. “He’s fucking awake.”

  Cheska squeezed my hand, and I looked into her green-brown eyes, seeing them bloody shining. My heart was pounding and my body still didn’t want to fucking move.

  Charlie started to come over to me, then his phone rang. He frowned as he looked at the caller and answered. His mouth tightened. “We’re on our way.”

  He hung up, and I felt adrenaline kick in as I stared at my cousin. Something was wrong. “What?” I asked, cutting through the raised energy in the room.

  “Another attack,” Charlie said. “Fucking west dock this time.” He shook his head, disbelief in his dark expression.

  “FUCK!” I shouted, knowing I had to get to that fucking dock and sort shit out.

  Charlie was beside me in a second. “You’re not fucking going anywhere.” Charlie nudged his chin at Eric, Betsy and Vinnie. “We’ll go. You’ve got to stay and see Uncle Alfie. Freddie too. This isn’t getting in the fucking way of something this important.”

  “I can go—” Freddie tried to say, but I shook my head.

  “No, he’s your old man too,” I said, and Cheska leaned in and kissed my arm. I pointed at Charlie. “You report to me as soon as you find out what’s happened. I want to know, the minute you do, exactly what’s gone down and who the fuck did this.”

  “You know it.” Charlie kissed me on the head. “He’s fucking woke up, mate.” He threw me a blinding smile. They all fucking came over and hugged me and Freddie. Then my cousins, Vinnie, and Eric were gone.

  Gene got to his feet. “I’m happy for you, Artie,” he said. “I’ll be in my room. Say
hi to Uncle Alfie for me.” I nodded my head as the kid passed us, and gripped Cheska’s hand tighter.

  Freddie left the room, and I fucking froze. My dad had woken up. It had actually happened. I’d kept him on machines all this time, but deep down, I’d believed he was gone. Now he was here. Actually here. Fucking back from the dead. The true gaffer of our firm resurrected.

  My fucking old man was alive.

  “Let’s go, baby,” Cheska said. I nodded numbly at my bird, kissed her, then walked to his bedroom.

  I sucked in a breath as I opened the bedroom door. Freddie was already beside his bed, stood back a few feet while the nurse checked him over. Freddie was watching her. My dad’s eyes were shut, but when I came closer, I saw his eyelids move, then open, his blue eyes wincing at the low light.

  My pulse raced as his disorientated eyes looked around the room, first to Freddie, then they fixed on me. I thought I’d fucking fall over as he stared at me. I remembered the night he was gunned down. I remembered it with perfect fucking clarity—the Russians opening fire on our firm’s leaders and shooting them all to hell. And I remembered Freddie finding a pulse in my old man’s neck.

  And here he was. Fucking alive and breathing and staring right at me.

  His mouth moved, and I knew he’d seen me. He knew it was me. He couldn’t speak, and I knew that having been in a coma for so long would make him delusional as fuck. But my dad was looking at me, and I knew he fucking knew me.

  Cheska let go of my hand. I looked right at her. “Go to him, baby,” she said and stood back away from the bed. I glanced over at Freddie, who had turned fucking white. He met my eyes, and I nodded at him to get closer. The nurse stepped back from the bed, and I stood at my old man’s side.

  His face was drawn, he was skin and bones, but that was Alfie fucking Adley in that bed. The fucking living legend of our firm.

  “Alright, Dad,” I said, and his dazed eyes focused on me. He didn’t move, but I knew his muscles were fucked after being dormant for so long—atrophy. Dad took in a deep breath, and I uncurled my hand from a fist and took hold of his.