O’Grady had been at his Casino on West Avenue when the call came in. An arm around Janine Chen, the silky-haired woman who managed the Casino with an iron fist, he stepped to the side when he saw Barry’s number flashing on his phone. All his bonhomie fled when he listened to the man he had entrusted to take care of Bianca.
“How is she holding up?’ he growled, his focus on the beautiful Bianca, who they had dragged , willy-nilly, into their world of violence.
“She’s holding up, Boss,” said Barry in a low voice and he heard the note of grudging admiration in the voice of the old-timer.
“She’s tough.”
*
Barry told him about the way nothing of value had been stolen. Everything was in place. Except for the bedroom. On the mirror, scrawled with her lipstick were the words,’ Sl*t.’ and ‘ WH*RE.’
A framed photograph that Bianca had left on her bedside table, a picture of her family, had been on the floor, the photo torn to bits.
She had sunk to the ground in a daze to pick up the pieces but the burly biker had stopped her, hauling her away as she allowed him to hold her hand and take her to the next room. She had been shivering, her hands cold and she sat, swaying from side to side, her eyes empty.
“Who could it be, Barry?” she said and the older man had looked at her with fresh eyes, seeing a grieving teenager.
“Do you think my family…?” She went on.
*
A team of O’Grady’s men had already arrived. They spoke to the man who was in charge of the security.
The terrified manager blurted out the truth.
There had been a lapse. A man had come to ask questions about the apartments and as the manager sat, giving him the basic information, a janitor had strolled in, his face hidden by his cap, wearing the dull slate grey uniform.
It was only later that it had dawned on the manager that the janitor was too big built to be the man who normally did the rounds of his building.
The tech guys had gone one step further; they had discovered the identity of the man who had called on the manager.
Dean Nelson.
And the janitor had called in sick for the day.
*
So who had been the mysterious man who had broken into her apartment thought Bianca as she sat, hugging her knees, on the couch as she listened with half an ear to the conversations going around. Barry had brought in some of his mates and someone had handed her a bowl of hot, steaming chicken soup.
“For the soul, comfort food,” growled Barry and she sipped obediently.
*
Her mind was in a whirl. She was informed that O’Grady had contacted the school to make sure that her sisters were well. And Heather was also safe, as she had called to check. Her stepmother had seemed puzzled as he replied cheerfully,
“Hon, I’m as safe as houses.” And she had giggled.
Bianca replaced the small phone, a slight smile on her face. But it ached to know that someone had written that about her; someone had broken her photo frame, destroyed the precious picture of her family as it had been..
*
The mystery of the janitor was solved in a few hours.
Apparently, the janitor’s cousin had come to work. The janitor was found, settled on his couch in his tiny one-room tenement, watching a game on an old TV, guzzling beer.
When O’Grady’s men picked him up, he had spilt the beans.
He had been approached by a man who had handed him a fat wad of cash. All he had to do was say he was ill and his cousin was coming to work instead.
The man was in no position to work anywhere by the time the mobster’s men had worked him over. And he was dismissed from his job, thrown out of his residence, his furniture smashed.
O’Grady was furious.
No one f*cked around with his woman and got away.
If he had been there, he would have killed the man.
*
Bianca looked at the phone as it began to ring. She sighed and reached over to take it: it was St Just.
“Sugar,” he breathed down the line, his voice caressing and she burst into tears. She had not seen or heard from Liam O’Grady and she was furious and upset.
Although she had seen the men come and go, checking her safety and everything, she felt peeved. Could he not come and meet her?
“Take care, baby,” said St Just, and she sniffed,” Come back soon.”
*
She went to bed, knowing that Barry and his mates were guarding the apartment.
But it took her a while to sleep. Sighing, she tossed and turned and finally drifted off to a troubled snooze.
Only to be woken after a few hours by someone banging, no, hammering on her front door. Bianca sat up, clutching the shirt she had worn to bed. She had opted to wear one of St Just’s large shirts because it made her feel safe. He had left a few of his freshly laundered shirts and a few pairs of jackets and trousers here. Sleeping in his shirt had made her feel safe.
Now, trembling, she crept to the door.
“It’s me, O Grady,” roared an angry voice and she felt her rage surge.
The bas*ard could not have come at a worse time, she thought, flinging the door open and glaring at him in undisguised fury.
*
O’Grady had been up all night, he had tacked down Dean Nelson who had been the one to come to the building.
But the man seemed to have vanished.
But the man had disappeared and O’Grady had put out word on the streets that anyone helping him would be thrashed to within an inch of their lives.
Now, he stood in the doorway, his shirt clinging to his chest, his jacket open, the dishevelled hair and the stubble on his cheeks making him look rumpled but more attractive than ever.
Bianca felt a hot flare of desire and hated herself for it.
She sniffed;
The unmistakable smell of drink clung to him and her eyes flashed.
He had been drinking and merry-making while she had been dying of fright?
Clenching her fists, she fought to control er rage.
Then, Bianca said in an icy voice, crossing her arms across her ample bosom,
“What brings you here, Mr O’Grady?”