Redemption: A British Stepbrother Romance (19 page)

I
treated
Michelle like shit over the weeks following the final. I even blamed her for my miss.

I told myself it was all part of getting her out of my life so that she would be safe from Carl, but if I was completely honest with myself, the nasty things I said to her came far too easily.

I didn’t actually blame her for what happened of course, but I couldn’t help but get mad when I saw her. If Michelle and Maisie hadn’t come into my life when they did, I would be a World Cup winner right now. Instead, I was a figure of hate. A laughing stock.

I accused her of being a distraction. That was true, in a way, but she’d always been a positive distraction. She was the one I thought about on the pitch. Other players had their families in the stands, but I had Michelle at home watching on television. That’s what kept me going.

By the time Michelle returned home to the US, she couldn’t even bring herself to look at me, let alone talk to me. She’d had feelings for me at one point, I was fairly sure of that, but now she hated me. I’d probably never see her again, and that thought was far more depressing than anything that had happened on the pitch.

I whispered a goodbye as she walked out the door for the last time. She never even looked back.

I
t was
my idea to go back to the same American restaurant we’d gone to on the night of the attack. Oliver hadn’t liked the idea at first. He saw it as getting too close to the painful events of 2007, but I looked at it in an entirely different way.

To me, being able to go back to the same diner from that awful night was a sign that we had moved on. Once again, Oliver was playing in the World Cup and England were in the quarter-finals. We were within our rights to celebrate.

“We’ve kind of cheated by not inviting Maisie,” Oliver said. “It would have been fun to make her order the kids’ meal again.”

“You still remember what we ate that night?”

“I remember every little detail from that night. Do you want to order the same thing?”

“Sure. But this time I’ll have a real cocktail and not that virgin one I had last time.”

“So you remember as well?” Oliver asked.

“I remember being embarrassed at having to order a non-alcoholic cocktail. I’d spent the entire summer pretending to be grown up and mature, but the waiter asked for ID when I ordered the drink. I was so embarrassed.”

“It was cute. Besides, I couldn’t drink either. And I can’t tonight.”

“Well, I’m not a professional athlete, so it’s going to be a Manhattan for me.”

Outside had been a bit chilly, so I had on a jacket and sweater, but once we were inside I quickly warmed up. Oliver eyed my sweater and I knew he wanted me to take it off, but exposing my scar in public was still something I had to ease into.

Once we’d ordered our food, I slowly slipped the sweater off and put it on the empty chair next to me. The second my bare arms were on display, I felt a cold shiver up my spine, and I knew that was the result of nerves more than the temperature.

“You okay?” Oliver asked, placing his hand on mine.

I nodded. “I’ll be fine. Just trying to get used to it still.”

“Don’t take this the wrong way, but if you want, I could pay for cosmetic surgery on the arm. It goes without saying that I think you’re fucking beautiful already, but if it really bothers you that much… well, it’s an option anyway.”

“Yeah, I know. But I don’t want it removed.”

“You want to keep torturing yourself with the reminder that you weren’t able to stop the attack? Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out quite like that. You know what I mean.”

“It’s fine. You’re right. I do want the reminder there, but not just because of the attack. The burn marks on my arm are part of who I am. Besides, they’re not as noticeable as Maisie’s.”

“Will she want surgery do you think?”

I nodded. “I expect so, yes. We spoke to a doctor about it, but he didn’t want to do the operation while she was still growing. Plus, it’s ridiculously expensive.”

“I can pay for it.”

“I know, moneybags,” I said teasingly. “Thank you.”

The meal was unremarkable and I loved it. No one recognized Oliver all night. Perhaps they assumed such a big star wouldn’t be seen in cheap restaurants.

I’d made a big fuss about not being scared to relive the events of 2007, but I wouldn’t have been able to take the same walk home. Oliver lived in a different direction to his mom, so thankfully we never had to retrace our steps from that night.

“What’s the deal with Maisie and Shaun at the moment?” Oliver asked, as I linked my arm in his. “Shaun still won’t share all the details with me.”

“I think they’re just going to be friends,” I replied. “Maisie likes him, but I get the impression it’s platonic.”

“I was getting that vibe as well. Must say I’m a little relieved.”

“Yeah, that girl is growing up way too fast for my liking. As far as I’m concerned, she should be a virgin until eighteen like I was.”

Oliver laughed. “I’m hoping Shaun follows in your footsteps and not mine in that regard. You don’t even want to know what I was doing at his age.”

“No, I really don’t.”

“Nothing half as entertaining as what we do now of course,” he added.

“Good comeback.”

“Thank you. I talked to Shaun the other day about potentially moving to the US.”

“How did that go?”

“Good, actually. I won’t go as far as to say he sounded excited—you know what Shaun’s like—but he didn’t dismiss the idea. He’s not too keen about ending up in Virginia though. In his words, ‘my kind are not welcome there,’ which might be a good point.”

“Virginia’s not too bad,” I said. “We’re only a little bit racist.”

“You should put that on the license plates.”

I smiled. “‘Virginia: not as racist as some other states.’ You’re right though; let’s go somewhere new. Start afresh. Won’t Shaun miss his friends?”

“I think Maisie’s his best friend these days,” Oliver said. “He’ll miss rugby though. That could be an issue, but in a few years he’ll be going to uni anyway and can probably play it there.”

“If you’re going to move to the US, you’re going to have to stop saying things like ‘uni.’”

“Sorry. ‘College,’” he said in a weird voice.

“Was that supposed to be an American accent?”

“Yes,” he replied, looking slightly offended.

“No. Just no. Don’t ever do that again.”

“Sorry,” Oliver said, again attempting an American accent.

“Wanker,” I said, in my best impersonation of his accent.

“Oh dear. Is that how I sound when I do your accent?” I nodded. “I guess we should stop doing that then.”

We went to cross a road, but Oliver held me back even though no cars were coming. “What is it?” I asked.

“Huh? Oh, nothing.”

We crossed the road and kept walking, but Oliver kept looking over his shoulder the entire way home.

Tonight had a lot of similarities with the events of eight years ago, but this one was the most eerie of them all. That night, Oliver had seen something and suddenly disappeared. He’d been spooked and made some excuse about going to a party.

He had that look on his face again, and now I just wanted to get home as soon as possible. If something out there had Oliver worried, then there was a good chance it was something I should take seriously.

I
t couldn’t be him
. I must be imagining things. I hadn’t seen that man in eight years. But it
was
him. Even with just the glow of streetlights to go by, there had been no mistaking that face. He hadn’t changed much in the last eight years, other than a slightly more modern haircut.

Just two hundred yards behind Michelle and I, was Carl’s second henchman. The one who had pulled me off Carl and laughed as I ran to try and help Michelle and Maisie. I never knew his name, but I’d seen him around Carl a few times before.

Chief Superintendent Hodgson told me she’d got them all, but she’d missed one. Now that man was following us home. He knew I’d seen him, so he just casually walked behind, waiting for me to leave Michelle and go talk to him.

There was no way I was letting Michelle out of my sight until she was safely indoors. Not after what happened eight years ago.

If this man was out on the loose, did that mean there were others? He’d only been one of the bodyguards. The bullies. He certainly wasn’t the brains behind the operation. You could tell that just by looking at him.

As soon as Michelle was indoors, I made an excuse about going back outside to get something from the car. I ran down the drive and found the man there waiting for me.

“Evening,” he said in greeting. “I’m not sure we were ever formally introduced. My name’s Dave.”

The man held out his hand as if he seriously expected me to shake it. I just stared at him in response. In the end he lowered his hand and laughed.

Dave had an American accent, although I couldn’t place what particular part of the country it came from. I shouldn’t have been surprised; Winston was American. If the dirty cop was involved in this—as I was beginning to suspect—then it only made sense that he had other Americans working with him.

“Why are you following me?” I asked. “You’d better have a damn good explanation, because I’ve already called the police. They’ll be here in minutes.”

“If the police were a problem, I’d have been arrested eight years ago along with the others.”

“Why weren’t you?”

The man shrugged. “Let’s just say I have friends in high places.”

Winston. Maybe he let Carl and Wayne take the blame, while continuing his little operation with Dave.

“Any chance you’ve turned your life around and are now helping little old ladies cross the street?”

“Only if someone’s made a bet on them making it across,” Dave replied. “I’m still working the same trade. Gotta put money on the table.”

“Your boss said something similar to me once. Now he’s locked up, largely thanks to evidence that I provided.”

“No. No, my boss is still free.”

“What do you mean?”

“What do you think? Carl, got locked up, but Carl was never my boss. He was more of a middle manager. I work directly for the big boss, and that big boss wants a word with you.”

These bloody gangs were like hydras; you chop off one head and another quickly grows in its place. It was a miracle they survived the police investigation in 2007, but if they’d been going strong since then, the group could now be very powerful indeed.

“Whoever your boss now is, he lost he right to talk to me after he ordered the attack on my friends. Two women were seriously injured, and my best friend died. Your boss doesn’t get to talk to me anymore.”

“Carl was a nasty piece of work, I admit,” Dave said. “He had a bit of a temper on him and never thought things through long term. The real boss would never have ordered that attack on those girls; you would have been given one more chance to put things right.”

“And what about Gary? Are you telling me things would have been different there? Because a boy is growing up without a father after that ‘accident.’”

“No, I admit, that was the boss’ call. Your boy went and talked to the old bill and that couldn’t be allowed to stand. My boss has a particular aversion to those who bring the law into things.”

“How strange. You’d think criminals would be all chummy with cops wouldn’t you?”

Dave smiled. The orange glow of the streetlight above him gave him a creepy look, although in the cold light of day I knew there’d be nothing sinister about him.

“The boss has a… relationship with the cops,” Dave said, and then stopped, realising he may have said too much. “Anyway, they are not a concern.”

“Why now?” I asked. “Why after all these years have you come back?”

“You’re playing for England again. There’s a good chance England will make the final, and we’re hosting the tournament. If you think the country went nuts for the one held in France, just wait until the papers talk up the chances of a World Cup win on home turf.”

“I’m not going through with it. Not again. Tell your boss to get stuffed.”

“You really don’t want me to pass on that message. My boss can make your life a living hell.”

“If he wants a fight, then he knows where I am. Trust me, I have very vivid memories of what happened eight years ago. If I so much as lay eyes on him, he’s a dead man.”

“This won’t end in a fight,” Dave said. “It will end with you being destroyed in the press. He has plenty of evidence of your involvement in the scandal. How do you think the public will react when they find out you missed that kick on purpose? You’ll be vilified. You won’t be able to leave your house.”

There was no way I could go through with this, not again, but I wasn’t getting anywhere speaking to one of his thugs.

“Where’s your boss?” I asked. “I’ll go see him and tell him in person what he can do with his threats.”

“Not yet, but soon. We’ll be in touch. Have a good evening, Oliver.”

I stood there and watched Dave until he rounded a corner and disappeared out-of-sight. I’d told Michelle I was just popping out to get something from the car, but with any luck she would be busy talking to the kids.

I ran after Dave until I could see him in the distance. I kept a decent space between us, although he didn’t turn around and look behind him anyway. We kept walking for fifteen minutes, with Dave keeping up a brisk pace the entire way, until he stopped by an American bar near the river. This area was well lit, so I hid behind a bush to avoid being caught under the glare of the streetlights.

Dave stood by the entrance but never walked in. Instead he disappeared down a side alley, and entered the building through a door that looked like it was reserved for staff.

This had to be the place. The group liked hanging out at the back of buildings open to the public; it probably helped to provide a front for all the money coming in. Eight years ago it had been a hardware store, and now it was a bar.

The fact that Winston was also American couldn’t be just a coincidence. Was he in there now? If he was then I would… what would I do? I was unarmed and going up against a gang of thugs who were likely armed and worked closely with the police.

That ruled out calling the police for help. They wouldn’t be able to go in there without a warrant anyway. I decided to call Hodgson. She had been instrumental in catching Carl and Wayne, so I knew she’d want to get Dave as well. If Winston was involved too then that would have a ripple effect throughout the entire police force. She’d want to know.

“Olly, what can I do for you?” Hodgson said as she answered the phone.

“The betting syndicate is still active,” I said, forgoing any pleasantries.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, and I thought I heard a click to indicate that she’d taken it off speaker.

“Why do you say that?” she asked.

“Because I had a little visit from one of the men I saw back in 2007. Apparently there is a new boss in place now. Or maybe it’s the same boss as before, I’m not sure.”

“Shit. I’m sorry Olly, I really thought I’d got them all.”

“That’s not all. I think Winston is involved.”

Hodgson paused again before responding. “That’s a serious accusation, Olly. Why do you think that?”

“The group has a connection to the police force,” I said. “The guy I spoke to tonight, Dave, admitted as much. I’m sure it’s Winston. Gary died right after making a confession to him. It also looks like they’re meeting at—”

I froze as I saw a man walk out of the back room of the pub. The same room Dave had walked into minutes ago.

“Olly?”

“It’s Winston,” I said. “I just saw him walk out of the same place I saw Dave go to after talking to me.”

“Are you sure?” Hodgson asked. “He’s supposed to be working on a drug bust tonight.”

“I’m positive. He walked out, looked around, and then walked away. Hodgson, I don’t think Winston is just taking kickbacks and turning a blind eye. I think he might be running this entire thing. I think Winston is the boss.”

Hodgson let out a long sigh, and I pictured her dropping her face into her hands. “Olly, I’m sorry, I should have told you but—”

“Told me what?”

“We’ve been keeping an eye on Winston for a while now. He’s got more money than someone of his level should have, and it’s been raising eyebrows for some time. There’s no inheritance or rich relatives that would explain it.”

“That’s it then. He must be behind this whole thing.”

“We don’t know that yet. I’ve been keeping an eye on him, but it’s tough because I don’t know who I can trust here. I’m practically doing the investigation myself. I actually thought the money came from money laundering, but I guess it could be gambling.”

“That’s why he’s always looking to incriminate me,” I said. “He’s trying to look clean. Think about it; the last place you’d look for his dirty money is the operation he’s been trying to shut down for eight years.”

“I hope you’re wrong, Olly. I really do.”

“I’m not. What do we do?”

“For now, nothing. I’ll try and catch him in the act. You just need to lay low.”

I lied to Hodgson and promised I’d stay out of it. That wasn’t going to happen. He’d threatened my family: the woman I love, and the kids I adore. He wasn’t going to get away with that.

I took a car home, and went to the garage to dig out an old fishing knife back from when I’d thought sitting by a lake for eight hours was a fun way to spend an afternoon.

I’d been unprepared eight years ago, and I’d been unprepared tonight. Next time I would be ready. Things were going to end soon, and when they did I would be ready. Winston wasn’t going to get away with this.