Savage Night - Allan Guthrie [84]
Savage noticed, said, "Eyes front."
She'd spotted Martin's leg, the lower part, from shin to foot. No movement. Didn't mean she should fear the worst, though.
"Yeah," Savage said. "Your boyfriend's dead. And if you don't behave yourself, you'll be joining him soon."
Martin was dead? She didn't think so. She didn't think she'd feel this empty if that was true. She'd seen him shot, seen him fall to the ground, but that didn't mean he hadn't survived. She'd once heard of a hostage shot in the head, point blank, by terrorists. The hostage had lived. Martin could have survived too. She didn't know where he'd been shot. But it was possible he was just lying there, playing dead. That's what she'd do if she were him.
She kept her eyes fixed in front of her. Didn't move a muscle. Apart from her stomach, which had developed a spasm she'd never experienced before. It was as if a rodent was crawling around inside her, stopping every now and then to gnaw at her belly.
***
"IT'S OKAY, JORDAN." Tears streamed down Tommy's son's face. He was in danger of choking. Convulsing. "This might hurt." Tommy reached through the gap between the seats, ripped the tape off Jordan's mouth.
"Dad?" Jordan said. "Dad?"
"Shit, sorry, son." He took off the policeman's cap, pulled the ski mask off. "It's me, yeah. Keep an eye on that bitch out there while I untie you. Shout if she moves, okay?"
Jordan nodded.
Tommy pulled at the bindings.
"Dad?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm really scared."
"It's okay now. You're safe. I'm here."
"I'm still scared."
"It's okay. We'll be fine. Is she doing anything?"
Jordan shook his head. "Dad, you just killed somebody."
Yeah, Tommy had just killed somebody. He'd killed Martin Milne, the fucker who'd stabbed Phil in the heart and chopped him up. And he'd do it again in a heartbeat. "To make you safe, son," he said.
"They killed Uncle Phil. And Fraser. I didn't think they had, not really, I thought it was a joke but it's true they did and the bodies are—"
"Shush. I know."
He cried some more.
But he was safe. Jordan was safe. Tommy started to cry too. Pair of them with faces like they'd been rained on. "We have to hurry," Tommy said, wiping his eyes, gently, swallowing to ease the pain in his belly.
He got Jordan's hands free and Jordan leaned over the partition and flung his arms round him. Tommy hugged him back, as hard as he could with one good arm. He wanted Jordan as close to him as possible.
"I'm keeping an eye on … her still," Jordan said.
"Good lad."
They remained like that, squeezing each other, till Jordan said, "That hurts."
Tommy eased off, kissed his son's forehead. "Untie your legs and get in the front with me."
Jordan said, "Dad?"
"What, son?"
"You really stink."
***
EFFIE SNEAKED A glance a couple of times. The kid was watching her. She couldn't risk anything. He'd shout, Savage would turn, shoot her.
And Martin would be all on his own.
***
"WHAT'S IN THE back there?" Tommy asked Jordan.
"Uncle Phil and Fraser."
Good God. Jordan had been trussed up in the back with his dead uncle and his dead brother. And no doubt he'd have been next. Tommy'd never felt rage like he felt now. Maybe because he was free of Smith, or because he'd killed someone, or because Jordan was safe, but whatever the reason, anger flamed in his gut, the pain excruciating.
Jordan said something and Tommy could only hold up a hand to tell him to wait.
Just when he thought he couldn't bear any more, the pain burst into his chest, fired through his windpipe and shot onto the dashboard. A solid thing that rattled around. He blinked, looked at Jordan who was still waiting for him to speak. He couldn't.
Back on the dashboard, the pain had rolled to a stop. It was a steel ball, red-hot. He reached out to pick it up, not caring if he got burned, but a fist burst through the windscreen and Tommy grabbed only a handful of air.
"Looking for this?" Grant lay on the bonnet, ball held between finger and thumb.
"Give that back," Tommy said.
Grant placed the ball in his mouth.