It’s about what’s best for Alfie, and in case you haven’t noticed, he’s not himself at the moment. If you want to see something else in that, be my guest, but let me tell you something, you’re wasting your time.’ She turned back to Alfie. ‘Look, Alf, I’ll see you later.’
Franny began to walk away through the crowd of noisy, milling people, but she stopped in her tracks as Vaughn caught up with her, speaking out of earshot of Alfie. ‘Where are you going, Fran?’
Slowly, Franny turned on her heel to stare back at Vaughn who stood inches away, his muscular body rigid with anger.
‘What?’
‘You heard me, where are you off to?’
Franny’s expression spoke hatred. ‘You’re like a dog with a bone, aren’t you, Vaughnie? What’s your problem?’
‘Just answer the question, Fran. It’s not that hard.’
Expert at keeping her temper even, Franny’s voice was devoid of emotion. ‘I’m going home. It’s been a long day. Happy now?’
‘Home? Are you sure about that?’
Snorting with derision, Franny shook her head. ‘Whatever it is you’ve got to say, just say it.’
Giving a cloying smile, his handsome face twisted with a hatred that matched Franny’s, he leant forward to whisper in her ear. ‘Oh, I will, when the time’s right, that is. When I’ve worked out what exactly it is you’re up to.’
Franny laughed scornfully, and then said above the music, ‘You’ve clearly got too much time on your hands, Vaughn, or maybe you just need to go and get laid. Now if that’s all, I’m going home.’
‘Not quite all … Tomorrow I think you and me should go over the club’s accounts and then you could explain to me why there’s a lot of unaccounted money going out of the business.’ Franny didn’t turn to acknowledge Vaughn’s words; she continued to walk straight out the door.
Outside in the street, Franny leant on the black, wrought-iron railings, welcoming the cool. Shaking, she closed her eyes, breathing deeply, feeling the beginning of a tension headache. There was no way she could meet Vaughn and go over the books because he would want answers, and she had none to give him. The last thing she could do was tell him why she’d been taking money out of the business without telling either him or Alfie. But she knew Vaughn well enough to know he wouldn’t back down, and very soon he’d cause her real trouble, which was one thing she couldn’t afford to happen. So she had to work out what she was going to do about Vaughn. One way or another she was going to have to stop him.
After taking a couple of minutes to compose herself, Franny pulled out her phone and dialled a number. It was answered after only two rings.
‘Hi, it’s me … Look, I’m sorry about earlier. I didn’t mean to be so angry, it’s just that you know you shouldn’t call me on this number; anyone could’ve picked up, and things are becoming really difficult. I think Vaughn’s on to me … Anyway, I’m coming now, okay? See you soon.’
As Franny pushed down her sense of guilt, she slipped the phone back in her pocket, hurrying along Sutton Row, not noticing Charlie Eton and his men striding towards the club.
Charlie smiled as he held a small machete in his hand. ‘So, come on then, ladies and gentlemen, who’s first?’ He tapped the weapon in his palm as he nodded to one of his men to lock the door. Terrified by the intrusion, the club girls and clients began to scream, running in panic towards the fire exit, but their way was soon blocked by a handful of Charlie’s men, who herded them into the corner like sheep.
Having just come back from the bathroom located at the back of the club, it took Alfie a few moments to realise what was happening. Directly, he jumped into action, catching a glimpse of Vaughn smashing a bottle into the face of one of the intruders on the far side of the room.
About to go and help, Alfie felt a hard punch to his head, which had him spinning round to come face-to-face with a short, Mediterranean-looking man, holding a large knife. Undeterred, Alfie grabbed the chair next to him. He swung it round, hitting and opening the side of the man’s face who cried out in agony, but spurred on from the pain, the man, now covered in his own blood, threw his weight on top of Alfie, sending them both crashing to the floor.
Quickly, Alfie scrabbled along the polished floor on his knees, lunging forward to grab the man’s neck and twisting him round in a headlock. He forced his fingers into the man’s eyes until he heard the squelching of flesh. Panting, he shoved the man away and watched for a moment as he squirmed about on the floor in agony. Then Alfie barked, ‘You prick – who sent you? You think you can come into my club and try to scare off my punters? I’ll show you.’ Raising his fist ready to finish off the job, Alfie froze as a piercing scream filled the air. He turned and was shocked to see Charlie Eton – who he hadn’t realised was behind this until that very moment – standing and grinning as he held his machete against the neck of one of the girls.
Seeing the expression on everyone’s faces, Charlie filled the room with a wheezing laughter. ‘At least now I’ve got everyone’s attention …’ He stopped as he noticed Alfie on the far side of the club. ‘Hello there, Alf, good to see you. I thought for a moment I’d miss you …’ Charlie sniffed then drew the machete slowly down the woman’s chest.
‘Pretty little thing, isn’t she? I must say, Alf, you know how to pick your women.’
Alfie stood up, eyes firmly fixed on Charlie who walked slowly towards him. Alfie was aware that Vaughn, as well as the other men who worked for him, had been blindsided by Charlie’s attack.
‘Leave her alone, Charlie. I don’t know what this is about, but I do know your beef isn’t with her.’
Charlie Eton grinned again, his fat cheeks folding up in layers. ‘You’re right, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to cop a feel.’ Still holding the machete in one hand, Charlie’s other hand went under the woman’s skirt and between her legs. She shuddered in disgust, tears beginning to roll down her face as Charlie’s lardy fingers pulled and grabbed at her knickers.
Sliding his fingers inside her, a lecherous smirk on his face, he groaned in pleasure.
‘Mmmmm, that’s right baby, big daddy’s here. Does that feel good, sweetheart?’
Alfie’s face screwed up in rage. ‘For God’s sake, Charlie, let her go! Whatever it is you want, I’ll give it you. Just name it.’
‘Now that is a big promise, Alfie.’
Alfie, feeling desperate but trying to sound calm, said, ‘Please, Charlie. I’m begging you, just leave her alone. Come on, mate, what do you say?’ Getting no response, Alfie brought down his voice to a warm murmur. ‘Charlie. Charlie, for me … just let her go … as a favour, to me … you know what I’m talking about.’
A tiny flicker of acknowledgement passed over Charlie’s face for the briefest moment before it disappeared again. He considered the girl for a second, sneering, then pushed her forcefully aside, sending her flying into the bar and causing her to hit her head on the sharp corner.
Ignoring the blood now pouring from the girl’s head, Charlie stared hard at Alfie. A small vein pulsated on his temples. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I do know that you’re getting soft and maybe that’s why you think it’s okay to run this club right underneath my nose. You know me, I don’t like anyone taking away my business, so I thought I’d come and pay you a visit. Aren’t you going to offer me a drink, Alf?’
In the silence of the club, Alfie, feeling the pressure beginning to mount and knowing he had to play the game before someone got really hurt, walked behind the bar, his eyes still on Charlie, and grabbed a whiskey