‘Listen, Kenny. Nathan is more than capable of handling Terry fucking Barnes. The lad is an animal. And he wanted to sort this himself. He won’t have anyone threatening Grace, or her pub.’
Kenny frowned. ‘But Terry would never threaten Grace. He’s not that stupid. He knows the score.’
‘Yeah. But Nathan doesn’t need to know that. So, Terry never actually threatened her. I embellished a little.’
‘But …’ Kenny started but one look from his boss obviously made him think again and he stopped mid-sentence.
‘Look, this is the perfect opportunity for the kid. Give him a chance to show us what he’s made of. And if Terry Barnes should be wiped off the face of the earth as a result – then all the better. He’s been getting right on my tits lately. Save me topping him myself. He’s been taking far too many liberties and I can’t have it, Ken.’
‘You think Nathan will finish him off then?’ Kenny raised an eyebrow.
Tommy shrugged. ‘Possibly. There’s no saying what that crazy bastard will do. Especially if he thinks Grace is in trouble.’
‘Well I suppose it makes sense, boss.’
‘Of course it makes fucking sense. In a few hours, my Terry problem will be sorted, and I’ll have the true measure of Nathan Conlon.’ Tommy smiled as he downed the last of his Scotch.
Nathan slid down the wall of Terry Barnes’s flat as if in slow motion, until he was seated on the floor, legs outstretched in front of him. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst through his ribcage. Holding out his hands in front of him, he blinked as he surveyed the damage. The skin of his knuckles so broken and red he couldn’t tell which blood was his and which was Terry’s. The blood. It was everywhere. Covering his hands. His forearms. A glance down at his clothes confirmed his suspicion that it didn’t stop there – his T-shirt and jeans streaked with violent splashes of red.
Three feet to the left of him lay Terry’s lifeless body. His face unrecognizable from the man who’d opened the door less than half an hour ago. Nathan hadn’t meant to kill him. Things had just got out of control.
Tommy had phoned him earlier; told him it was urgent. Like the dutiful soldier, Nathan had obeyed, thinking it would be his chance to tell Tommy about his plans to manage the Rose and Crown full-time. But then Tommy had told him about Terry.
Terry Barnes was a low-life coke dealer who liked to shout his mouth off and make threats to anyone who’d listen when he’d had a few too many. The fact that he was the nephew of a well-connected city councillor made him think he had a free pass to piss off anyone he fancied, although he was usually smart enough not to mess with people like Tommy – people who didn’t give a flying fuck about his uncle, because they had far more important people in their pockets. But anyone who’d ever had cause to have any dealings with Terry would happily toss him into the Mersey with a pair of concrete wellies if they thought they could get away with it.
He’d been in the pub a few nights earlier, pissed as a fart, making threats to anyone who’d listen and giving Grace a hard time. Nathan had thrown him out and given him a slap for his trouble and thought no more of it, but Terry had other ideas. According to Tommy, he’d been telling anyone who’d listen that the Rose and Crown and its owner were in big trouble. Specifically, he would give that stuck-up bitch who owned the place a good hiding. That revelation had made Nathan’s head almost explode. The thought of Terry fucking Barnes with his hands on Grace – his Grace.
Tommy told Nathan to ‘have a word’ and make sure that Terry never darkened the door of the Rose and Crown again. Threatening Grace was personal as far as Tommy was concerned, and he was trusting Nathan to deal with it.
So, Nathan had gone around there straight away, with the intention of giving Terry a good kicking. Maybe breaking some bones. And he would have done just that. But Terry made a fatal mistake. He laughed at him. Called Nathan a nobody. Then he offered to show Grace what a ‘real man’ was.
Nathan had felt a rage like he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He punched a still laughing Terry full force in the face. There was a sickening crunch before Terry dropped to the floor like a sack of spanners. Nathan kept punching him. Over and over. Pummelling the unconscious Terry’s head and face. Releasing all of his pent-up rage. He didn’t stop until his arms ached.
Terry hadn’t stood a chance. No one would underestimate Nathan Conlon ever again.
Wiping his hands on his jeans to remove some of the sticky, congealing liquid, Nathan took the mobile phone from his back pocket and dialled Tommy’s number. His boss answered after three rings.
‘Yeah, kid?’
Nathan didn’t answer. What could he say? He’d fucked up big time. He was supposed to warn Terry off, not turn his face into a plate of chilli con carne. Terry was connected. How the hell was he going to get away with this?
‘Nathan,’ Tommy snapped.
‘I’ve killed him, boss,’ Nathan said quietly.
There was a moment’s silence that felt like it lasted for hours before Tommy laughed. ‘Fucking hell, lad. You don’t mess about, do you?’
‘Sorry.’
‘Don’t worry, kid. You did good. Stay put and I’ll send some people to sort it out.’
‘Thanks, Tommy. I owe you.’
‘You certainly fucking do.’ Tommy laughed again and hung up the phone.
Nathan sat in the hallway of Terry’s flat. He was no stranger to violence. He’d been around it all of his life. But he’d never killed anyone before. He supposed he should have felt bad somehow. Should have been begging whatever God there was out there for forgiveness. But he didn’t. He felt relief. He’d just beaten a man to death with his bare hands and it felt good. At that moment, he knew he’d never be satisfied just being the manager of a pub. A normal job would never be enough for him. He had a gift. He’d been told that before but now he believed it. And he would use it to make sure no one would dare laugh at him ever again.
Present Day
Grace could see the blonde head bobbing up and down in the crowd as Sandra Redman, one-time barmaid of the Rose and Crown, made her way towards her. Sandra was late as usual and she was almost running. Her face broke into a smile when she spotted Grace through the crowd.
‘Grace,’ she beamed and pulled her into a hug. ‘You look lovely – as always.’
‘As do you, Sandra. Married life must suit you.’
Sandra shrugged her shoulders and the two women went inside the busy restaurant. As they were seated by their waiter, Grace could see him eyeing Sandra’s legs as she slid into the booth. Sandra had always been fond of her short skirts. She certainly had the legs for them.
‘How’s Jake?’ Sandra asked.
Grace told her all about his plans for university and how she was hoping he’d get the exam results he needed. ‘And how’s Eddie?’
Sandra rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, his usual charming self. I despair with him, Grace, I really do. He’s nineteen going on forty. He won’t get a job. Treats me like his skivvy. I swear he becomes angrier every