Even Angels Fall (15 page)

“Mr Matthews, there you are!” Marcus greets Alex with a friendly smile, throwing his arms open wide as he enters the room. It is all just for show of course, a form of intimidation that Alex has witnessed many times before, “I was starting to think you were going to stand me up for a moment there…” He adds.

“What do you want?” Alex doesn’t care for pleasantries or for playing games. He hates Marcus and the feeling is mutual, there is no point in pretending.

“I’ll get straight to the point then shall I?” Marcus’ fake smile is gone in a flash and he stands, straightening his jacket as he walks round to the front of his desk which he leans on, nonchalantly, “You owe me money Alex. Now I know we’ve already discussed this and worked it out like the civilized business men we are. You asked for a bit of time to pay me back and I showed you some courtesy and gave you that time. However, it seems there has been a slight change in our circumstance…” Alex frowns, unsure of what he could possibly mean. He hasn’t seen or spoken to Marcus since they made that arrangement, how can it suddenly be no good?

“You’ll still get your money. Nothing’s changed…”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong…” Marcus gently folds his hands in his lap and although only a slight movement, it still manages to be incredibly menacing. Marcus’ whole appearance and attitude is a threatening one, hidden behind a facade of pleasantness. He always conducts himself properly, adamant that manners should never be over looked. It makes him even more unpredictable… and frightening, “A little birdie told me that a few weeks back you made a deal with Chris Moorland? That apparently you’ll be running for him up in this neck of the woods? Now Mr Moorland and I have always had a mutual respect for one another and although he owes me no favours, that deal should have been mine. That is until some cocky little fucker from Ireland swooped in and stole it from me…” Alex can’t believe what he is hearing, it is so unexpected and completely out of the blue.

“Moorland never mentioned any potential deal with you…” That is the truth, but clearly it doesn’t matter much to Marcus.

“ Perhaps not…” He sneers, “But that isn’t really the point is it? Surely you see my predicament Alex? Now not only do you owe me the money I lent you, but you have also taken business away from me that would have left a nice tidy sum in my bank account. I was going to take the missus on a cruise and as you can imagine, she’s very upset…” He shakes his head in dismay as he stands up straight and strolls over to where Alex is standing. They square up to each other face to face and Marcus leans into him, making his point perfectly clear as he speaks calmly through gritted teeth, “I have wasted too much fucking time, energy and money on you kid… game’s up. I want what you owe me, all of it, by the end of the month…” Alex has to stop himself from laughing out loud in sheer disbelief. He owes Marcus twelve grand, and the end of the month leaves him less than three weeks to get it for him.

“There is no way! How the fuck am I meant to get that kind of money together by then?!” He gasps.

“That isn’t really my problem is it?” He takes a step closer to Alex, “But just make sure you do son… or you will be very, very sorry…”

Alex’s head is spinning as he walks back outside into the warm, sunny afternoon. How on earth have so many separate, completely unrelated events crashed together in such a way that he is now in deep shit?! It is almost impossible for him to get his head around and there is no way he could have foreseen it.

Twelve thousand pounds is a lot of money and it is money that Alex doesn’t have, at least not all of it. He had been on track to pay Marcus back on time but now that he has moved the goal posts, he is stuck with no way out. His time is up, just like Marcus had said, and he is short by almost half. Alex’s first instinct is to go to Moorland and explain the situation. He is the only person that Alex knows who has that sort of money at his disposal and who can get it for him that quickly, but he dismisses the idea. There is no way he can lose face with him, not now.

Moorland had taken an interest in Alex when their paths had crossed a few months back. Chris Moorland is big news in London. He owns a string of restaurants and take-aways and is a highly successful businessman, with it all being entirely legal and above board. However, he is into making extra money on the side as well, which led him into the world of drug dealing and supplying. He has a lot of contacts and connections down south that he has built up through the years and he is the ultimate top dog, not to be messed with.

His new venture, a restaurant which recently opened in Brewery Wharf, is the reason he headed up to Leeds and onto Alex’s radar. It wasn’t a permanent arrangement; he only come up North to oversee the opening before returning to the capital, but during that time Alex was introduced to him by a mutual friend.

The owner of one of the bars that Alex runs drugs at knows Moorland from his days in London. It was a chance meeting, a pure fluke, but Alex happened to be in the club on the same night that they decided to meet up for a drink. It turned out Moorland had been told quite a lot about Alex from various people in their line of work and he was impressed with what he heard. Now that he had a restaurant in Leeds it made sense to expand on his other ‘business ventures’ up here as well and that is how the proposition came about.

Alex is Moorland’s new dealer up North. Moorland sends the drugs to Leeds every six weeks where they are held at a safe house - a very expensive, upmarket property that won’t come under suspicion - and Alex ‘distributes’ them, keeping all his old contacts as well as supplying to any new ones cleared by Moorland. The clubs that allow them to run their operation, Moorland and of course Alex all get a cut of the profits… everyone’s a winner.

That is until Marcus decided to take it as a personal slight, which in all honesty Alex doesn’t find surprising. The thing that attracted him to the deal with Moorland is his level headedness and straightforward, no mess attitude. It is a business arrangement and Moorland treats it as such, even telling Alex that if the agreement doesn’t work out and he wants to call it quits, he will be willing to discuss it.

It is an operation that has been planned to the finest detail and so far it has run smoothly, mainly due to Moorland’s professionalism. Marcus’ attitude however, couldn’t be more different. He takes pleasure in violence and he revels in the drama that this lifestyle brings with it. He likes to think of himself as a shrewd businessman but he is nothing more than a bully, a control freak and a thug who loves to scare, intimidate and throw his weight around. He is in no way as professional or as polished as Moorland; in fact compared to him he is practically a loose cannon, much more interested in the gangster connotations and the notoriety than actually running a successful business venture. Although making money is of course high on his list of priorities.

In short, Marcus is a nasty bastard who is used to getting his own way - and whether he meant to or not - Alex has embarrassed him by stepping on his toes. Plus he is more than likely irritated by the fact that Alex has entered into an arrangement with somebody else. Even though they hate each other now, Alex was once Marcus’ golden boy and he always resented him for walking away.

Moorland approached Alex after being impressed with his initiative and the way he can handle himself in a difficult situation. Therefore, asking him for a lend so early on in their partnership would no doubt do more harm than good. Alex has to prove to him that his first impression was right. That he can deal with any issues himself and be trusted to hold down the operation while Moorland is in London; so asking for his help is out of the question.

Alex walks home in a daze, trying to think of any way possible that he can miraculously get his hands on thousands of pounds in just over a fortnight. The money he earns is good, very good, but he can’t make that kind of cash in that sort of time frame and he knows what it will mean for him if he doesn’t pay up. Marcus Holt isn’t scared of getting his hands dirty and he certainly isn’t scared to act out his threats. There is a reason he has such a frightening reputation… and a reason why he has a 3 inch scar, sitting proudly underneath his left eye.

“R
ight I’ve gotta go…” Tom balances a roll up in the corner of his mouth and shoves his tobacco tin, phone and wallet into the back pocket of his jeans. Abbey has spent the last hour listening to his highly entertaining stories about the group and their various exploits - drunken nights out, failed relationships and even brushes with the law - and she could easily spend the rest of the afternoon the same way. But unfortunately Tom has work, which he is already running late for.

It is early Saturday afternoon and the others are spending their day elsewhere. Liam is playing football, Nathan and Lucy are having some alone time, and Darren, Sophie and Gemma are also at work, at least for the next few hours. Had Abbey known this she probably wouldn’t have ventured over to the flat, but she couldn’t stand the thought of being at home all day. You can cut the tension with a knife and she seriously needed to escape. It is becoming more and more excruciating, living under that roof.

Tom leans over and gives Abbey a quick kiss on the cheek before he dashes out of the door, struggling to put his jacket on without dropping his keys. It is strangely quiet once he has gone and she stares blankly at the TV screen, completely unaware of what she is watching as her mind is totally preoccupied. Alex was on the phone in the kitchen when she arrived and Tom had immediately ushered her into the living room. It was obvious why, as the almost permanent frown and stress lines on Alex’s face were even more apparent than usual. He was talking into the handset in a low, agitated voice while pacing up and down, clearly trying to remain calm.

It is clear that there is a problem and she wonders if it has anything to do with the phone call he received last Monday and the mysterious Marcus? Nothing has been said about it since, but she can tell that something isn’t right.

After internally debating with herself for a good 20 minutes about whether or not she should disturb Alex, she finally caves in to her boredom and curiosity and makes her way down the hall towards the kitchen. She gently pushes the door open and loiters by the glass table, suddenly unsure of what to do or say. Alex is leaning over the counter top resting his elbows on the side and holding his head in his hands. He has numerous sheets of paper strewn out in front of him along with his phone and a packet of cigarettes.

“Hey…” She finally musters up the courage to speak, but Alex doesn’t respond, “Are you OK?”

“Fine” He forces the word out and Abbey can hear the warning in his tone.

“OK… It’s just… you don’t seem fine, and I was…”

“You were WHAT, Abbey?” Alex turns on the spot so fast he is almost a blur, “What exactly is it that you want…?”

“Just… to help…” She stutters.

Alex’s demeanour is aggressive and Abbey suddenly feels incredibly uneasy around him. He can be so unbelievably intimidating.

“You want to help?! Well unless you have a spare six grand lying around that you can lend me by the end of next week I don’t think you can fucking help, can you?”

“I’m sorry I asked…” Abbey can feel her face redden and she looks down at the floor, defeated and embarrassed.

“I told you not to get involved didn’t I?! God you have no idea what you’re doing, you’re just a kid…”

Abbey’s head snaps up and she retaliates before she even has chance to think about what she is saying. It probably isn’t wise to anger Alex further, but his remark is so patronising it makes her blood boil. She has to deal with her mum and her brother sharing that opinion, she isn’t about to take it from him as well.

“I am not a fucking child…” She yells, louder than she means to, “And I am sick to death of people treating me like one…”

“You have no fucking clue do you…?”

“You don’t know anything about me…”

Alex strides across the room and they stand just inches apart as he bears down on her, but Abbey doesn’t back away.

“Why the hell are you here, Abbey?” He snaps, “What do you want?”

Abbey stares him out, determined not to whimper like a coward and give in, to prove to him that she isn’t just some stupid kid and that she can stand up for herself when she needs to. After a few seconds - and just as Abbey’s nerve is starting to fail her - Alex’s expression shifts and the tension between them suddenly alters. His anger and irritation fade and he has a different look in his eyes, a look of determination and desire. Abbey’s breathing quickens and she feels Alex’s change too, the physical closeness between them is suddenly obvious and that charge of electricity is back stronger than it was on the balcony… stronger than Abbey has ever felt it before.

Their eyes are locked on one another and when the longing between them becomes almost intolerable Alex reaches up and grabs hold of Abbey’s face with gentle force, moving his hands through her hair and pulling it tightly as he presses his lips to her mouth. They stagger backwards from the force of the kiss and slam into the fridge, their lips and bodies locking together with an intensity and sense of desperation, as if nothing and no one else matters.