The Make (15 page)

‘No,’ said Gracie, thinking about George and Harry’s escort business. All those women. But . . . they could have husbands, boyfriends, people who wouldn’t take kindly to their women being squired around town by a couple of young studs. Wasn’t that feasible?

‘What?’ asked Lorcan, watching her face. ‘Come on, Gracie. For the love of God, tell me.’

Gracie gave in. ‘George and Harry have been on the make,’ she sighed.

Chapter 34

Christmas Eve

‘I found loads of emails on George’s computer, from all these women. And I found his website,’ said Gracie to Lorcan over breakfast next day.

He’d stayed overnight at George’s place, taking Harry’s bed while she took George’s. It felt odd, lying in bed knowing that Lorcan was just down the hall. Odd – but reassuring, too. She couldn’t believe how close she had come to getting snatched yesterday, and her brain kept dishing up freak-show images to her as she sank into a light, troubled sleep. What would have happened to her? You heard reports all the time. Women raped, hurt, murdered.

But eventually she slept – and she only managed that because she knew Lorcan was there with her. She kept waking up and finding herself listening for his tread coming down the hall. But he didn’t come near her all night. Which was exactly what she wanted, but it irritated the hell out of her at the same time. Next morning she phoned Mum at Vera’s.

‘Oh, the cow’s loving all this,’ moaned Suze. ‘She’s got the whole place decorated like Disneyland, all colour coordinated in silver and pink. Now she’s out in the kitchen in her Cath Kidston apron making mince pies and doing some Delia Smith thing with the bloody turkey. All her perfect kids and their perfect partners are coming over to stay later today, and I’m here like the poor relation. I’m having
loads
of laughs, thanks for asking.’

‘At least you’re safe.’

‘Yeah, but at what price? If I have to listen to one more tale about how great Col’s qualifications are, or how well Kirsty’s doing at that upper-crust uni she’s attending, I tell you, I’m gonna blow. If I try to help out she just tells me I’m doing it all wrong. And I
still
can’t believe that shit Claude’s scarpered – do you know how much that hurts, that he just
abandoned
me like that? And I don’t understand what’s going on. Why would anyone want to hurt George? And where the hell is my poor Harry? And
why
in God’s name would anyone want to take a chainsaw to my front door?’

‘It’ll all work out,’ said Gracie. She knew it sounded lame.

‘My life’s in the toilet, Gracie. In the
toilet.
’

‘Going to see George tonight?’

‘Of course I am.’

‘No change still.’

‘No. No change,’ said Suze, and hung up.

Gracie’s head was throbbing from the blow to her skull last night; she wasn’t in the mood for all this aggro. She caught up with Lorcan in the lounge. He was dressed in his own dried-off clothes, drinking tea and eating toast.

‘How’s the head?’ he asked.

‘It has been better,’ said Gracie, going through to the kitchen and raiding the cupboards until she found paracetamol and a cup. She came back into the lounge, poured some tea out of the pot, filched a piece of Lorcan’s toast, and sat down.

‘These emails from these women,’ said Lorcan. ‘You’re sure that’s what’s going on? George and Harry have set themselves up as escorts?’

‘There’s no doubt about it.’

‘And they’ve upset someone.’

‘Looks like it.’

Gracie sipped her tea and wondered where the hell this was all going to end. She felt more frightened than she had ever been in her life. Someone wanted all the Doyles roasted, that much was obvious. George was in hospital. Harry was missing. Her mother had been terrorized.
She
had been attacked and if Lorcan hadn’t intervened she would have been dragged away, maybe never to be seen again.

‘It’s like a scorched-earth policy, you heard of that?’ asked Lorcan.

Gracie nodded. ‘Yeah. An army withdraws and they make sure everything left behind is ruined. They burn the land, poison the wells.’

‘That’s what this person’s doing – total obliteration – don’t you think?’

She didn’t want to think that. If she
allowed
herself to think that, then she would have to acknowledge that they were probably all doomed, every last one of the Doyles. Because you couldn’t fight an enemy you couldn’t see. And this one was invisible.

‘Scary, uh?’ said Lorcan, watching her face.

Gracie’s eyes locked with his. ‘I’m worried about George lying there helpless in hospital. I’ve been thinking about this. Someone – God knows who – has already passed themselves off as his brother and strolled in there. What if someone wants to finish him off, Lorcan? Nothing could be easier, could it?’

‘Then we’d better get George some security.’

‘Can you do that?’

‘I run a casino, Gracie. You know security plays a big part in gaming.’ He sat back, considering. Then he said: ‘Actually I can’t spare workers, not right now. But I could draft in the fellas who take the skim.’

‘You what?’ asked Gracie.

‘The skim. You know.’

Gracie sat up straight. ‘Lorcan. Are you telling me you’re paying
protection
money to someone?’

Lorcan gazed at her. ‘It’s just like talking to the Babes in the Wood,’ he sighed. ‘Come on, Gracie. Surely someone up in Manchester’s approached you to take a skim off the profits?’

‘No. They haven’t.’

‘Oh come on.’

‘Really. No.’ Gracie was staring at him. ‘Who takes this “skim”, then?’

He shrugged. ‘In London? The American boys.’

‘Are you telling me the
Mafia
are hitting on you for money?’

‘They always have. And they always will. They’re into a lot of places in the West End. Grow up, Gracie.’

‘I don’t believe this.’

‘Believe it. The good news is, the boys are generous in return. They look after their own. Which is me. And anyone connected to me.’

Gracie stared at him, feeling shocked, dispossessed and unsure. She couldn’t take in what he was telling her. This wasn’t her usual stamping ground. She was in a strange environment, facing an unreadable enemy – and Jesus, her head ached. Added to all
that
, here was Lorcan, right here, telling her the Mafia were in his pocket. Or he was in theirs. And she was
still
finding him disturbingly attractive. And she didn’t, she really
didn’t
, want to go down that road again.

‘Who’s going to be keeping an eye on you while you find out more about all these women George and Harry have been escorting around town?’ he asked her.

‘I didn’t say I was going to do that,’ said Gracie.

‘But that
is
what you’re intending to do, ain’t that right?’

He could read her mind. She remembered that now. The way he could snatch her thoughts out of thin air, could know exactly what was happening in her head.

‘It’s better than just waiting for the axe to fall. And I can’t think of anything else to do,’ she shrugged. ‘Can you?’

‘No. I can’t. So while you’re doing that, Gracie, I’ll watch your back, okay?’

‘No.’ Gracie stood up. ‘
Not
okay.’

She’d been through all this before with him. She knew how easily he could take over her life, her mind, her body. He was a strong man and he didn’t have a shut-off point. He’d push and push at something until it crumbled, which was fine in business, but not when it was
her
he was looking to take over. She was an independent woman. She was used to doing her own thing, thinking for herself, having complete autonomy. She didn’t want to change that, and she just
knew
that Lorcan could change it overnight, given half a chance. She knew how forceful he could be. And she knew that beneath all her go-fuck-yourself-I’m-a-liberated-woman front, she was weak at the core where Lorcan was concerned.

‘Come on, Gracie.’

‘No!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t want your dodgy heavies, and I don’t want you. Clear?’

She spent the morning replying to as many of the emails from George’s clients as she could manage, telling them that George was in hospital after an assault and that if they had any ideas about how George had ended up that way, or if they knew the whereabouts of Harry, would they please let her (his sister) know? She put her mobile number on the emails.

Lorcan came into George’s bedroom after about an hour and stood behind her, looking at the screen.

‘They won’t reply,’ he said. ‘They’ve used an escort service. It’s a dodgy sort of business. They might feel ashamed, worried their families will find out. You won’t get a damned thing out of them.’

Gracie turned in her chair and stared at him. ‘You got a better idea?’ she asked.

Lorcan shrugged and went back into the lounge.

She didn’t hear him go out all morning, so she assumed he was still in the flat. As it got towards lunchtime she heard him making phone calls. She felt reassured, which was damned annoying, but how could you help what you felt?

He reappeared at one o’clock. ‘Let’s go out, get some lunch,’ he said.

‘Can’t. Busy,’ said Gracie, tapping away at the keyboard.

‘Okay,
I’m
going to lunch. It’s Christmas Eve. Why don’t you, in the spirit of the season, join me, you stubborn cow? I’m extending an olive branch here or some fucking thing.’

‘No, you go,’ said Gracie, not looking round.

‘You’ll be okay here on your own?’ he asked.

‘I’m a big girl, Lorcan.’

‘Fine. Give me a spare key, you got one?’

Gracie stretched over to her bag, which was on the bed. Rummaged in there, and came up with a set of spares. Handed it to Lorcan. ‘Round one’s the outer door, square one’s the inner.’

‘Thanks,’ he said, not entirely without sarcasm.

She heard him go down the hall and out. She sat there staring at the screen as the silence of the flat settled around her. Finally, she switched off. Went through to the lounge. Wondered if she’d get any replies. Thought that there was every possibility that the clever bastard was right and that no one was going to risk getting dragged into something messy by saying a damned thing. She could only hope he’d be proved wrong. For a change.

So what now?

She couldn’t just stay in here stagnating.

A flashback of last night came into her brain. The bone-chilling cold of the snow, Lorcan picking her up, thawing her out. She felt a shudder go right through her.
Anything
could have happened to her. He was right. But she couldn’t just hide away in here. She refused to.

She snatched up her coat and bag and headed out the door. She’d pick up a taxi in the high street, go join the throng and do some late Christmas shopping. It was a novelty to say the least. She didn’t do Christmas shopping, as a rule, but she could buy something for Suze, maybe cheer her up just a little. It was broad daylight and she was getting restless. She couldn’t come to any harm.

Outside, the air was chilly. The snow was piling like icing on a cake up on the verges. Underfoot, there was grit and some slush, but it was okay so she started walking along the road, but then she realized that there was a man sitting in a parked car across the street, watching her.

When he saw her head turn in his direction he slumped down and lifted a paper and appeared to be examining it intensely. Gracie felt her heart start to stampede in her chest like a bolting horse. It was a hideous feeling. If he got out and ran at her, what the hell would she do?

She walked on a few paces, and whipped her head round quick, and sure enough he was watching her, he
was.
It could be the same one who’d hit her last night, the one who’d been trying to drag her away and do God knows what to her . . .

‘Gracie!’

She halted and gave a small shriek, nearly quivering with terror. Lorcan was getting out of the black BMW up ahead.

Gracie clutched her chest and hurried up to him.

‘That man,’ she said, teeth chattering with cold and fear.

‘What man?’ Lorcan was looking around.

‘In the fucking
car
, Lorcan. He’s watching me.’ Gracie nodded towards the car and its skulking occupant.

‘Him?’ Lorcan shrugged. ‘Don’t get your pants up your crack, Gracie. He’s one of ours.’

‘He’s . . .’ Gracie’s mouth had dropped open. She tried to get the words out, but couldn’t.

‘One of ours,’ repeated Lorcan. ‘One of the mob boys, anyway. I made a few calls this morning. Got some muscle on George’s hospital door, and your auntie Vera’s, and yours. Where are you going?’

‘You didn’t listen to a damned word I said in there, did you? I told you I didn’t want this.’

‘Want it or not, Gracie, you got it.’

She stared at him in consternation. She wasn’t sure whether to laugh, kiss him or smack him hard upside the head. ‘I thought you’d be long gone.’

‘Nah, I was waiting for you. Knew you’d push it, Gracie. I
knew
you’d come out. So where shall we go for lunch?’

‘So tell me what you learned this morning,’ said Lorcan as they sat in a densely crowded restaurant.

They’d ordered the set menu of the day – Christmas lunch and all the trimmings.

‘It’ll be fucking horrible, it always is,’ predicted Lorcan cheerfully when the waiter had taken their order and hurried off. ‘Have you ever had a decent Christmas lunch in a restaurant?’

‘No,’ said Gracie, and thought of the Christmas Eves they’d spent together in the past. Out to lunch – and he was right, every one of them had been indigestible – then home to bed.

Mustn’t think about that now.

‘We always used to go out to lunch, then home to bed,’ he went on, pouring out the wine.

Fuck it.
‘Well we won’t be doing that today,’ said Gracie icily.

‘You know what?’

‘What?’

‘I think that’s a shame.’

Gracie nearly choked on her house white. ‘You
what?
’

Lorcan shrugged. ‘Well, as we’re getting so close to the divorce courts, it’d be nice to end things on a bang, don’t you think? Instead of a whimper.’

Gracie was shaking her head. ‘No. That’s
not
a good idea. I don’t want to start muddying the waters. You’ve made your intentions plain. You want rid. Fair enough.
Rid
you shall have.’

‘Actually I’m not entirely certain about that.’

Now Gracie really
did
choke.

‘Steady,’ he said.