Ashes to Ashes, page 31
I’d never seen Joel move so fast. He was up and out of his chair, disappearing through the door before I could blink. Both Murderer and Dante laughed, the two high-fiving each other.
I raised a brow at Dante. “Are you responsible for that?”
Dante grinned. “You betcha. I hate that stoner.”
I rolled my eyes, not surprised he’d gotten Murderer to torment Joel, the two having a bad history. My mate had stolen my bro’s first girlfriend, taking off to Australia with her. Dante had found out recently that Lavinia had been pregnant with his child at the time, his daughter now ten... or was it eleven? No, she was still ten, younger than my son, who’d already had his eleventh birthday. I’d never met my niece since she’d been raised overseas, Lavinia duping Joel into believing he was Cleo’s dad. Though, after he’d found out the truth, he still treated Cleo as his daughter, taking part in her life even after he’d separated from her mother... until Lavinia took off with Cleo, leading him back to New Zealand.
“Anyway, what wuz I sayin’?” I asked, losing track of my thoughts.
“You were talkin’ ’bout a job for me,” Murderer said.
“And Nike. Both of you will needa take out all of Ant’s guards.”
“Kill or incapacitate?”
“Kill,” I said, not feeling any guilt whatsoever, the people working for Ant all scum.
Nike frowned at me. “That’s not necessary. Ant’s the target, not innocents.”
“No one who works for Ant is innocent.”
“I used to work for him.”
“No, you worked for his father.”
“Who wuz just as evil, in case you’ve forgotten, which also means, you’re not killing the help.”
“Only if they don’t prove a threat,” Murderer cut back in. “That’s how both me and Killer have avoided jail time. Leave no witnesses. If anyone sees our faces, they needa die.”
“Which will be most of the workers there,” I said. “I’m not goin’ in undercover.”
Murderer nodded. “I can make their deaths painless.”
“No!” Nike snapped. “We can do it another way without hurting the help. I’ve worked out a plan.”
“While I’ve worked out more than one,” Murderer replied. “We needa go in there with alternative options just in case we can’t complete the original. You should know that, Nike.”
“I do, I have a plan B as well.”
“Whereas I have plans ranging from A to Z.”
Nike grimaced at him. “Yeah, and I bet most of ’em involve murder. I have an easier route, one that’ll cut down on collateral damage while making Ant suffer way more than giving him a quick death.”
“Who said it’ll be quick?” I answered.
“Or the others unintentional,” Murderer added, probably referring to Nike’s collateral damage comment.
Nike ignored him, his gaze now on me. “I still don’t think you should kill Ant, that’ll be the easy way out for the bastard. I think you needa entice him to leave his property instead of goin’ in. That way the Skins can grab him. After all, that wuz the original plan. Or even better, we should find a way to frame him so he ends up in jail with the Skins, pulling his torture out for years, like his dad should’ve received. I wish I’d made Craven suffer for what he did, but he got a quick death, one he didn’t deserve. He deserved a helluva lot worse, like gettin’ cut off from his riches and made to feel small, beat down, becoming someone’s bitch in prison. I think you should make sure Ant gets all of that and more, rather than giving him a relatively quick death.”
“I’ll make him suffer enough,” I grunted.
“But not for years.”
“Killing him now will guarantee that he won’t come near me or my loved ones ever again. I also don’t trust the justice system to put him away. That rich prick has connections to judges, sumpthin’ he’s used before to avoid prison time.”
“You still don’t hafta risk your neck to get results,” Nike replied. “Also, the press are dogging your every move, which means we’ll hafta shake ’em. Though, they’re not your real issue, the cops are. If Ant winds up dead, they’ll automatically suspect you. They’ll rip up your home, lookin’ for evidence to get you thrown into the slammer. Think, Ash, think how to get revenge without implicating yourself.”
I grunted, knowing he was right, just not wanting him to be. “I’m still goin’ in when Ant calls. It’s the only way I can guarantee he won’t send someone after L, Lily, or Angelo. He’s already threatened to do it.”
“Then, stall. Use whatever excuse you hafta to give us enough time to get this right.”
I looked over at Murderer, who was shaking his head, not looking impressed. “So, what do you suggest I do?”
“Don’t stall, that’ll make him suspicious, plus there’s no need to wait. Go in when he calls. Nike and I will...” He grimaced, not looking happy with whatever he was planning. “We’ll use a different mode of backup, one that is safer and cleaner than the Skins.”
“Who?” I asked, knowing Murderer had connections to other gangs.
Ignoring my question, he walked over to Nike and leaned down, whispering something into his ear. Nike frowned, looking like he was going to object, then a smile slowly surfaced as Murderer continued to whisper.
“That’s a great idea!” Nike said, beaming from ear to ear.
“Then, why aren’t cha tellin’ me?” I asked.
Murderer straightened up. “You can’t know all the details, otherwise you could let ’em slip. Plus, the less you know the more authentic you’ll act.”
“It doesn’t matter, I hired you. I should know what I’m payin’ for.”
Murderer rolled his eyes. “I’m not gonna take your money, nor will Nike. You’re whanau whether you acknowledge it or not. And you’re not the professional ’ere, son. I know my job and I do it well; it’s how I’ve stayed outta prison, not to mention alive. Do things my way and you’ll get your revenge on Ant.”
I grimaced, pissed off, but accepting what he’d said, the man definitely good at his job. Though, there was one worry. “What happens if Pain appears while you’re on the job?” I asked, referring to his defenceless third personality. “Nike mentioned that she almost fucked things up the last time you two worked together.”
“Pain won’t show,” he replied. “My sis learnt her lesson. She also stopped comin’ out after your dad moved in with Jade.”
“Which he wouldn’t have done if you didn’t fuck things up.”
He grimaced. “The only one who fucked things up is that uncompromising bastard. Your dad keeps tryna force Killer to take meds he doesn’t want.”
“Ones that were recommended by the psychiatrist to help him.”
“No, quite the opposite. They’ll get rid of me and Pain.”
“That’s the whole point. After all, you two are basically parasites living in Killer’s body.”
Murderer’s eyes flashed angrily at me. “I’m not a parasite, nor is Pain, and if you were anyone else, I’d cut you down where you stand.”
“You’re still ruining Killer’s life,” I said, realising I shouldn’t have called him and Pain parasites, especially since he was helping me. But I still wasn’t going to take it back, because it was true... well, maybe not for Pain. Her personality was all right, it was just Murderer who was the problem. He was definitely a parasite, or worse, a cancer.
I continued, “If it weren’t for you, Killer would be with my father instead of pining after him like a lovesick puppy.”
“What do you care?! You hate your dad. Plus, Killer would’ve been dead years ago if it wuzn’t for me and Pain. Why do ya think we came about? We help him cope with all the shit he’s witnessed. I also do things he wants done but is incapable of carrying through with.”
“Then, why did you ruin his relationship with my father? You lot would still be together if you didn’t torment him. Some of the shit you’ve done is outright sadistic.”
“How the fuck would you know? You avoid your dad like the plague. You can’t even call him dad, it’s always father,” he spat, as though it was a foul word.
“Cos Dante won’t shut up ’bout Father,” I emphasised just to piss Murderer off, because right now he was pissing me off. “As if I bloody care what happens to him. And why should I? That bastard never gave a toss ’bout me when I wuz a kid, other than when he wuz smacking me about.”
Murderer sneered at me. “You act as though he did it throughout your whole childhood, not a handful of months. And he worked himself to the bone without even a thank you in return. No wonder he tried to escape through meth.”
I blinked at him, not believing he was blaming my father’s abuse on me. Though, I shouldn’t have been surprised considering Murderer was violence personified. He probably thought punching someone in the face was a show of love.
Then the anger came, my reply just as snappish as his, though a damn lot louder. “He fuckin’ made my life a living hell for those handful of months, which by the way is total bullshit! The abuse lasted a lot longer than what you’re making out. It may have started off slowly, but by the end he wuz full-out attacking me with a car jack when all I did wuz try to defend my mum. You can’t downplay that cos I have the scars to prove it.” I held out my crooked pinkie finger to show him. I’d stepped in front of my mum, raising my hand to stop my father from striking her. Instead, he’d struck me, the nasty scar under my mop of hair another reminder of that day. He might have even killed me if Hunter hadn’t tackled him, my father’s cousin acting more like a dad than the man who’d spawned me.
“It wuz assault, plain and simple,” I added. “The judge agreed, which wuz why he sent my so-called father to prison.”
“Where he got clean, beating his addiction for you,” Murderer persisted, the guy like a dog with a bone. “When he got released, he tried his best to make it up to you and Dante, who, by the way, has forgiven him.”
“Cos daddy dearest did nuthin’ to him. Dante wuz always his favourite, while I wuz his favourite punching bag.”
“No matter what you think, your dad still loves you. He’s tried hard to right the wrongs he’s done, bending over backwards to make it up to you. He doesn’t even defend himself when you belittle him, sumpthin’ no one else gets away with. He’s truly sorry, so stop making him grovel, not to mention suffer, and he is suffering. You’re also not just hurting him, you’re hurting yourself.”
“How the hell am I hurting myself?”
“This grudge has turned you into a bitter man, one who’s stuck in the past instead of enjoying the present.”
I didn’t reply, the first part true, because I was bitter. Bitter that my father had ruined my childhood, breaking my mother’s heart, who ended up moving onto someone a million times worse, my stepfather killing her as well as sexually abusing both Dante and me. Yes, I was bitter, very bitter.
Murderer continued, “You needa put things behind you, especially at a time like this. Give your poor dad a break, you know how unwell he is.”
“His illness doesn’t automatically wipe his slate clean. A father is meant to protect their young, not hurt ’em.”
“That wuz years ago!” Murderer yelled, making me jolt with surprise. His reaction was over the top, not like him at all, the guy usually unemotional. “He’s good now, while you, you’re turning into what he used to be, just without the excuse of bein’ off your head on drugs.”
“I don’t hit my woman or kids,” I growled, thinking he had a bloody nerve to even suggest it. “So, I’m nuthin’ like him.”
“Yeah, right,” he said, his tone thick with sarcasm.
“Are you taking the piss outta me?”
“Nope, cos I wouldn’t be surprised if you end up doin’ the exact same shit as your dad.”
“Like hell I would!” I snapped, the prick really riling me up now. “I know what it’s like bein’ on the receiving end.”
“But what happens when you lose your shit, lashing out without thinking. You’ve had blackout rages like your dad, ones where you’ve come to afterwards, not remembering a thing.”
I frowned. “How do you know that?”
“Dante told me.”
I glanced over at my brother, annoyed he’d run his mouth off to Murderer.
Dante shrugged at me, not looking sorry at all.
I turned my attention back to Murderer. “That’s only happened a few times and it didn’t involve women or children. I wouldn’t hurt innocents.”
“I bet your dad thought that way too. You’re so much like him it freaks me out at times. Change before it’s too late, before you end up regretting your life like your dad regrets his.”
I went to tell him that would never happen, but stopped, the way he was talking out of character. Because he wasn’t insulting me, he was concerned, something Murderer was incapable of.
“Killer?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“When did you take over from Murderer?”
He grimaced. “When you mentioned the car jack.”
I blinked, not having realised he’d dropped in that far back. “Why didn’t you say anything? I thought I wuz talkin’ to Murderer.”
His grimace grew. “Cos I wuz busy defending your dad. And why the fuck am I ’ere arguing with you over him?”
“Murderer is doin’ a job for me, so get him back.”
“No, he’s gone. You clearly pissed him off when you started slagging off your dad. You may think Murderer’s a true psycho, but he ain’t. He’s does have feelings, stunted in many areas, but very strong when it comes to your father. I’d say he left to stop himself from decking you—or worse, knifing you. So, whatever job you wanted him to do, it’s now mine.”
I swore. Although Killer was good at his work, Murderer was the best. “Fine,” I grunted. “Nike can fill you in on the plan.”
Killer nodded at Nike. “Murderer wrote to me that you’re one of the best,” he said, his personalities having a diary system so they could communicate. “Murderer doesn’t say that ’bout anyone, which means I’m happy to work with you.”
“Ta,” Nike replied. “I look forward to working with you too, Killer.”
Killer lifted his chin. “Chur, bro. Just take into account that I’m not as cutthroat as Murderer. If we don’t hafta kill, we won’t. It’s only a last resort for me.”
Nike smiled. “Looks like we’re on the same page, then.”
“I’m not,” Dante spoke up. “I’d rather you lot can this crazy arse idea altogether.”
“Not happening,” I said.
“Then, lemme come too.”
“No. You’re not a killer, plus Ant ain’t gettin’ near another Rata. You also needa look after the women. Distract L, I don’t want her gettin’ a whisper of what I’m gonna do.”
“’Kay,” Dante grumbled, looking like it was far from okay. “So, when’s it happening?”
“When Ant calls.”
32
ASH
The call came the following day, Ant clearly not wanting to wait long to get his hands on me. I’d hoped to have a few more days for Killer to case the property with Nike, but they’d reassured me they knew how to deal with the security. No, it wasn’t Killer, it was Murderer, his desire to see Ant again overriding his irritation with me. Apparently, he’d enjoyed his last run-in with the man, so much so that he wanted to have one last crack at him before the situation was taken care of.
I pulled up to Ant’s gate by myself, the other two sneaking in separately. There was a guard box on my left with a middle-aged, balding man inside. I opened my window and lifted my chin at him.
“Ash Rata. Ant’s expecting me.”
“I know,” he said, sounding bored. “Leave your car out here, along with any weapons. You’ll be patted down at the door.”
I nodded and pulled over to the side, getting out as the massive iron gate opened for me. Without another word, I made my way down the long driveway, which was surrounded by towering trees, some of them curving towards each other. It was almost as though they were lovers, reaching out to hold their partner’s hand, about to take a walk down memory lane. And it was memory lane for me, one I’d travelled many times. Prior to Ant taking over, his father had owned the property. My first boss had been a drug lord with his fingers in the porn industry, something I hadn’t known about until my brother had been blackmailed into performing in a live sex show with Kara. And Ant was just like his father, a pervert with no morals.
The trees cleared, revealing a massive front lawn, with a house that looked more Southern American than New Zealand. I continued onwards, growing more restless as I neared the front door. It opened on cue, as though every step I’d taken had been watched. But instead of Ant appearing, it was his stepmother, who was actually younger than him. Ant’s late father had liked pretty young things, and Talia was most definitely pretty. She was wearing a flowing blouse and tight-white pants, the style reminding me of L’s, so much so that I wondered whether she was purposely mimicking my woman. She also looked angelic like L, just with a blonde halo of hair. Though, it was all an illusion, her leer pulling the angelic curtain down, revealing a demon in its place.
“Ash,” she said, never getting me mixed up with my brother, the woman knowing me well. “Lovely, lovely Ash coming for a playdate with my stepson. I’m going to enjoy watching you two delicious men fuck, though personally, I’d prefer to join in. What do you say, Ash? Can you talk my stepson into a threesome?”
I sneered at her. “Fuck off, Talia.”
She laughed. “As cordial as ever, dear.”
She indicated for me to follow her inside. I did, stepping into the grand entrance. A large chandelier hung above our heads, while plush red carpets swept up the staircase, so opulent it looked more like it was out of a historical drama rather than someone’s home.
A man, who was standing beside the door, closed it behind us. He was big, a few inches taller than me, dressed in a suit and watching me warily, definitely not a butler. A second later I recognised him. He’d been one of the bodyguards that had escorted Ant to the record company. At the time I hadn’t paid much attention to his face, more concerned about the gun he’d pointed in my face.
