Michael was trying to control his breathing. He had every right to be angry, and every right to exact any revenge he felt was warranted. But he knew that Declan didn’t feel any malice towards him, and that he had not expected the Cornel brothers to be such a slippery pair of bastards. Declan Costello had been guilty of nothing more than sheer stupidity and laziness.
Michael gulped his drink, savouring the burn as it hit his belly. He could feel the energy coming back into his body and, swallowing down the rest of the whisky, he placed the glass on the bar gently, before leaning his body over the counter and picking up the whisky bottle. He poured himself out another large measure of Scotch. His back was turned away from Declan, and his voice was rough, as he said disgustedly, ‘Do you know what fucking annoys me more than anything about you, Declan? That you can stand there like the orphan of the fucking storm, all sad-eyed, and ready to take your punishment, yet you know exactly what you did wrong. You know why my fucking wife and daughter were terrorised in their own fucking home. So what I want to know is, why didn’t you think this through before it got out of hand?’ He turned to face Declan, to look him in the eyes.
Declan just shrugged his huge shoulders; he was as bewildered as Michael. ‘I was already well pissed by the time Peter Barker came to see me. I can’t condone my actions. I need a day or two so I can think things through properly. Why do you think I didn’t want the partnership when you offered it to me? I can’t think on my feet. I run the same fucking businesses I did when my brother was in the big seat. I thought I was doing the right thing. I didn’t think of the consequences. I certainly never dreamt the fuckers would go on the trot. Fuck me, Michael, they could barely stand up!’
Michael finished his whisky in one gulp. Then, sighing heavily, he brought the whisky tumbler down on to Declan’s head with all his strength, and began beating the bloodied man viciously and deliberately.
When he was finished, Michael went into the men’s rest room and washed his hands carefully, before tidying himself up as best he could. He left the club quickly; his car and driver had been waiting for him patiently. There were also two of his doormen waiting outside. As arranged, as soon as he drove away, they slipped into the club and began the job of cleaning up the mess that Michael Flynn had left behind him.
Chapter Eighty-Five
Michael had showered, and changed into a pair of black jogging bottoms and a crisp white T-shirt. As he walked across the landing from his bedroom to his daughter’s, he could hear his wife pottering about in the kitchen below. It was a good sound, the sound of a home, of normality.
He tapped gently on his daughter’s door, before walking into the dimness of her bedroom. Her TV was on, providing the only light, but the sound was down. She was lying in her bed and, as she turned to look at him, he forced a smile on to his face.
He knelt down beside her bed. She could smell the shampoo and soap that he always used – it was a familiar scent, something that had always comforted her until now. She looked up into his face, as she had so many times before, only this time it was different. He wasn’t the dad she had loved and adored any more. He was a stranger to her. This was a man she didn’t trust.
‘You all right, Jessie?’
She nodded. He put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. He could feel the stiffness in her slim body, knew that she was still traumatised by the events of the last twenty-four hours. He relaxed his hold on his daughter and, settling her back on to her pillows, he sat beside her on the bed. He could see that the fright lingered, and he knew she was never going to forget what had happened. But he continued to smile down at her, as she watched him warily.
‘Listen to me, Jessie. That was never supposed to happen. It was a complete one-off. I swear that to you, darling. Burglars! Fucking creepers! They are the scum of the earth. Anyone who wants to nick someone else’s hard-earned cash is filth. Never forget that, my little darling. But they weren’t banking on your mum were they, eh?’ He was trying to make light of everything, make a big joke of it. ‘Did you see her, Jessie? With my shotgun! She looked like Calamity Jane!’
Jessie didn’t answer, and that bothered him. She had always been able to say what she wanted to him – that was part of their closeness.
‘She was only trying to protect you, darling. There are some bad people in the world, and sometimes bad things happen. But it’s over now. It’s all sorted out. Daddy’s here.’
Michael could see his daughter’s sad face, still full of fear. It was ridiculous. He was with her now – she had no reason to be scared of anything.
‘I want to go to sleep.’
Michael watched his daughter closely. Her voice sounded different, there was no inflection in it, no emotion whatsoever. She had been truly affected by the Cornels. If he could, he would happily murder the fuckers all over again for that.