‘I would.’
There was a tense silence before Nico clapped his hands. ‘Enough of this talk. Why don’t we just get on with business?’
Giving a quick side glance to Cabhan, Franny, knowing he wanted to get this over and done with as much as she did, took Nico’s cue, her voice cold and hard. ‘Okay. So how much are we talking about, Nico? How much did you lose?’
Nico watched Franny evenly. He’d forgotten how much like an Italian goddess she looked, but that didn’t stop him having an aversion to her. Mouthy broads who thought they were men, in his experience, always came to a very bad end.
‘About two and a half million dollars.’
Franny nodded calmly, rivalling the outwardly composed Nico. ‘Which is about one point eight million pounds, but as a goodwill gesture, to show there’s no hard feelings between us, I’m willing to give you two million in British sterling, that’s as long as we can draw a line under it all.’
Nico Russo chewed down hard on the inside of his cheek, tasting blood, his expression once again not giving away any kind of emotion as he turned to Cabhan. ‘You let women do men’s business now?’
‘It’s not for me to let her, Franny does what she wants. She is her own woman and her own boss.’
‘Then it’s a shame it wasn’t Franny who came to work for us instead of you. It seems like she’s the one with the balls. Tell me something, Franny, where did you get the money from?’
Franny gave a smile, pushing Alfie out from the back of her mind, focusing only on the matter at hand. ‘Nico, I get my money from the same place you do.’
Nico smiled back, genuine amusement in his eye. He put his hand out for Franny to shake.
‘Okay, Franny, it seems we have a deal.’
Franny held Nico’s hand as well as his stare just as hard, the Doyle strength pushing through. ‘And you’ll speak to the rest of the family about Cabhan coming home?’
‘Yes.’
‘So that’s it, we’re even?’
Nico nodded and smiled.
When Franny and Cabhan had left the visitors’ room, Salvatore turned to Nico.
‘I’ll arrange for her to transfer the money today to one of our accounts in India, and then it’s done.’
Nico’s eyes turned dark and cold. ‘No, Salvatore, it’s only just beginning. Never forget that in life there’s always somebody to blame and there’s always a way to get revenge … An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth … a daughter for a daughter. Let’s go and wish Cabhan a happy birthday with the sweet Alice Rose.’
Alice walked along with Sister Margaret, hardly able to contain herself. She’d spoken to Nico again and everything seemed to be under way. He’d been amazing, kind and caring, so in return what she’d done was make certain she’d said a prayer of thanks each morning in chapel for him. After all, she didn’t want to take for granted any of the angels sent her way.
The party was all set for Saturday and she had a feeling it was going to be just perfect. She couldn’t wait to see her dad’s face. She loved him so much at times she thought she was going to burst.
‘You seem distracted, Alice.’
‘No, I’m just thinking, Sister Margaret.’
‘Well, I hope your thoughts are full of godliness, Alice, rather than temptation. You know, every temptation is an opportunity to prove the Devil wrong, Alice Rose.’
Alice smiled warmly. ‘Of course, Sister Margaret.’
‘You know, if there is anything you want to tell me, you can. I don’t …’
Wanting to say more but hearing the front gate bell ring, Sister Margaret turned to walk down the tree-lined driveway. She raised her hand to the waiting car.
‘I’m coming … I’ll be back in a minute Al—’
As she spoke, Alice suddenly saw Sister Margaret’s cream robe turn crimson. Terror gripped her as she watched, not quite comprehending what was happening as the nun’s head began to loll back, her body sinking to the ground, blood oozing as her eyes held Alice’s stare.
Alice began to shake, her whole body trembling as her screams mixed with the warm winds. Hysterically, she ran towards Sister Margaret and threw herself on the ground. Desperately afraid and racked with terrified sobs, Alice cradled the nun’s head in her arms. ‘Don’t die! Don’t die! Sister Margaret … Please … please … please!’
Blood trickled out of the side of Sister Margaret’s mouth as she tried to speak. ‘Run, Alice. Run. Get help, and may God protect you …’
A sound at the gates made Alice look up. Cold sweat began to drip from her as she saw two cars driving through them. She knew she had to move or they’d see her, but it felt like her legs were made of stone, as if fear were holding her down.
Breathing out slowly, Alice closed her eyes, petrified to move and feeling her whole body go into spasms as Sister Margaret whispered up at her.
‘Alice, go! Go, child … Now!’
Too frightened to speak, Alice nodded as she backed away slowly before breaking into a run, terror stopping her from turning around as she sprinted as fast as she could back through the meadows, heading for the white stone field shelter. She raced through the open archway to the relative safety of the dark, empty building, feeling like there were someone right behind her, feeling like she could almost feel their breath on the back of her neck.
Terrified, trying to stop herself from crying, unable to stop shaking, Alice peeked through the dusty window, sneaking the smallest of glances …
Over by Sister Margaret, the cars stopped. The doors flung open and Bobby Russo – his face covered by a demonic clown mask – stepped out. Leaving the other men by the brand-new blacked-out Escalades, Bobby sauntered across to the nun, watching for signs of life.
Poking her with the nozzle of his semi-automatic, his voice was thick and nasal. ‘Where’s Alice Rose?’
Not getting a response, Bobby kicked Sister Margaret on the top of her thigh with the tip of his boot, causing her to moan out loud. He chuckled. ‘So you are alive … I need to know where Alice Rose is.’
Through blood-covered lips, Sister Margaret rasped, ‘God forgive you!’
From behind the mask, Bobby grinned, his voice mocking. ‘Hey, Sis, I don’t need your God to forgive me, I’ve already booked my place in hell. Front-row seats. So don’t you go troubling yourself about me, just tell me where Alice is.’
Riddled with pain, Sister Margaret spat her answer. ‘Never!’
‘Oh, it’s like that, is it? Going to be a ballsy broad? Fine, Sis, have it your own way.’
After taking off the safety catch, Bobby pointed the gun straight into the nun’s face, pushing it down hard onto her forehead. ‘Prepare to meet your Maker.’
‘Bobby! Leave it! Come on!’ Salvatore called, gesturing for his brother to join him.
Glancing down at the nun, Bobby shouted back, ‘What about her?’
‘Jesus, Bob, I said, come on!’
Shrugging and flicking the latch back on his gun, Bobby, whistling, walked across to Salvatore who, along