A Father’s Revenge. Kitty Neale

the last of his drink and walked outside. Cars were parked along the road, but none of them looked occupied, the coast clear as he hung around.

      Just fifteen minutes later Kevin’s patience was rewarded when Adrianna left by the side exit. Stepping forward with a smile on his face, he said, ‘Hello there, remember me?’

      Kevin was only aware of her eyes rounding in panic before arms locked around him from behind. He struggled, but found himself spun around to face a man moving out of the shadows, his face contorted with anger.

      ‘Get back inside,’ Vince yelled at Adrianna. ‘I’ll deal with you later.’

      Another of Vince’s heavies moved to the kerb, beckoned, and as a car pulled up, Vince climbed in the back, the heavy in the front. Kevin was then shoved from behind, forced inside to find himself trapped between Vince and the mountain of a bloke who’d held him.

      ‘Drive!’ Vince ordered.

      Kevin thought quickly. ‘What’s going on, Vince? We go back a long way so why have you snatched me?’

      Vince’s head snapped round, his hard, gimlet eyes studying Kevin for a moment before he said, ‘Nah, I don’t know you.’

      ‘Yes, you do, Vince, though I must admit you didn’t see me very often. Before I went inside I used to knock around with a couple of blokes and we fenced the stuff we nicked through you. My name is Kevin – Kevin Dolby.’

      There was silence for a moment as Vince pursed his lips, but then he nodded. ‘Dolby, yeah, that name rings a distant bell. Are you the bloke who beat the shit out of a jeweller?’

      ‘Yes, that’s me. I’ve just got out after doing thirteen years.’

      ‘So what are you doing sniffing around my bird?’

      ‘If you mean that stripper who was leaving the club, sorry, mate, I’ve only just got out of the nick and I didn’t know she was your property.’

      The blow to Kevin’s stomach was swift and unexpected, leaving him doubled over in agony as Vince growled, ‘Don’t take me for a mug. You’re the bloke who was hanging around last week. You saw Adrianna get into my car and you clocked me when you had nerve to stick your head inside me motor.’

      ‘Vince … mate …’

      Kevin’s apology was cut off. ‘I ain’t your mate!’ Vince snarled. ‘If I was you’d know that I’m a reasonable man who’s prepared to overlook a genuine mistake. Yours wasn’t. You knew she was my property all right, and you should have kept away, but instead you turned up again tonight.’

      ‘I wasn’t there to chat her up. We just happened to be leaving the club at the same time, and I just said hello, that’s all.’

      ‘Nice try,’ Vince said, ‘but I was in the club tonight, watching you from my manager’s office and my girls know better than to cross me. I was shown the note you paid good money to send to Adrianna.’

      ‘But …’

      ‘Shut up! Stan, Bert, we’re going to pull up here and then he’s all yours.’

      When the car drew into the kerb, Kevin was yanked out. He tried to fight back, but up against two giant thugs he didn’t stand a chance as they laid into him with fists, and when he hit the floor, their boots.

      Pain shot through him with each kick, agonising pain, but finally when Vince called them they backed off, like dogs obeying their master. With one final kick each they returned to the car, leaving Kevin bruised, bloodied, and barely conscious as it sped away.

      Kevin didn’t know how long he lay there, drifting in and out of consciousness, and he had only vague memories of someone coming to his aid. The man helped him up and was good enough to drive him home when he refused to go to hospital.

      The time had passed in a blur, though Kevin had flashes of memory: Rupert crying, being tended to by skilled hands, but only finding out days later that it had been Rupert’s private doctor.

      With broken ribs, his body in agony, and his face a swollen mass of cuts and bruises, it was Rupert who looked after him – Rupert who over the next few weeks nursed Kevin back to health.