Bianca stepped out, arm in arm with Mal. It was cold, she thought and was glad that she had worn her hoodie. It had been a fun evening, listening to the guys laughing and poking fun at Nash, who had brought his rather straight-laced girlfriend along. He was besotted with Amy Lester, the girl who sat primly beside Nash and the other young men in the group had teased Nash over his devotion to the brunette. It had been light-hearted and after a meal of fries and burgers, they were all ready to call it a day.
Bianca had sipped on a coke all evening. She did not enjoy drinking and besides, she was driving, as she explained. Mal had been her chatty self, a little woozy from drink and when the last round was done, Bianca glanced at her watch. It was late, she thought with a dimpled smile.
St Just had seen her message, she knew that and now, as she made her way to the door of the pub, she noticed that Amy Lester had not brought a warm coat with her. They were going to ride home on Nash’s bile and the silly girl had just worn a tank top and a thin jacket which was wet because someone had accidentally doused her with drink. Noting the unhappy, forlorn look on her face as she stood shivering a little away from the entrance, Bianca went up to her.
” Would you like to borrow my hoodie?” she smiled,” I know it’s cold out there.”
The girl hesitated and then nodded, smiling shyly.
“Yeah, thanks,” she replied and Bianca quickly shed the hoodie and walked away, smiling. As she headed to the car, she saw that people were milling around.
Barry stopped her before she got to her little car.
“Tyre’s busted,” he growled and she peeped over hs I shoulder.
He was indeed right for she noticed, in dismay, that one of the tyres was deflated.
Shaking her head, she turned to see Roger, who had turned up in his beat-up old van. The young man was climbing into his vehicle, and mal was already cosily ensconced inside. Sprinting across, she panted,
“Drop me off, will you?”
Roger beamed obligingly and Mal, who was already in the passenger seat, moved to make space for Bianca. She caught Barry’s eye; the muscled biker was examining her deflated tyre in consternation.
With a curt nod at her, the big man stood up and prepared to follow them.
Roger started the engine and then, they were off.
The sniper was watching the door of the pub from the building opposite. He watched the brunette in the hoodie come out. She was holding hands with a young man and the group of revellers was generally laughing as they left.
He aimed and fired.
When the beat-up old truck rolled to the entrance to her street, Bianca stopped Roger. She did not want anyone to know where she lived. Poor Mal, who had had one too many back a the pub, was half asleep, her head rolling back, snoring loudly.
Roger looked harassed.
“Drop me here, Roger,” smiled Bianca. He peered down the street. It was well lit and the houses seemed well maintained.
A safe locality, he surmised.
Even as Roger hesitated, Mal made a sound like a loud barf and he jumped.
“I’ll be fine. Get her home, Roger,” dimpled Bianca as she agilely jumped down from the van.
The young man cast Mal a worried look and nodded.
As Bianca turned to enter the apartment lobby, Barry’s bike roared up behind her and Roger’s van turned the corner and disappeared.
Barry was beside her in a trice, breathing hard.
“Those tyres,” he growled and she looked up at him in concern.
“I’ll get them looked at. In the morning.”
What Barry did not mention was that the tyre had been slashed.
But he had sent a message to the Boss.
Se nodded at him cheerfully, yawning hugely as she went upstairs.
When Bianca opened the front door, she fell back in alarm.
Liam O’Grady stood there, dwarfing her entire living room and he was furious.
“Shut that f*cking door!” he thundered and she did as he instructed, her eyes wide in fear.
Why was he so angry? She wondered in bewilderment.
And then, O’Grady was beside her, jerking her into his arms as he went on.
“How many men did you f*ck on your night out, Pet?”
Bianca reared back in shock. She could smell the whiskey on him, could see his bloodshot eyes. And then saw a lovebite on his neck.
Enraged, she shoved him as hard as she could. For all the response she got, she could have been pushing at the rock of Gibraltar. Struggling, she snarled,
“What’s with you, you…crazed drunk…you man wh*re O’Grady?”
And panting, se went on, her chest heaving,
“So it’s one set of rules for You and another for me?”
Stabbing his chest with a finger she went on, unknowingly taunting him, her fragrance floating around his drink-fuelled head, enraging and exciting him further as she said,
‘I went to visit my friends. Maybe I kissed them. Maybe I f*cked them. So?’
And pushing at him, trying to step away, she went on,
‘I’m the kind of girl who likes to keep busy, O’Grady. And maybe one aging man is not enough.”
She was furious. The knowledge that he had been with another woman, just hours after leaving her bed, made her tremble with rage. The man could not keep it in his pants. Well, she would taunt him, and make him angry as well.