The Letters (Carnage #4)(17)

My chest feels tight when I think about one of the worst moments of my life. So much so that I know I need something stronger than beer. I go into my office and grab my Laphroaig and a whisky tumbler.

I set them down on Georgia’s desk, pour the whisky from the decanter and into the glass, and take a sip.

When Georgia left me and went back to Sean, I really never saw it coming. I honestly thought we were on the same page. We were spending a lot of our days and most of our nights together, and I really believed we were ready to move in and start to make a life together. Never in my life have I gotten something so wrong. I’d lost my wife and unborn son but nothing hurt like losing Georgia when she left me for Sean McCarthy …

Our argument that Thursday night at dinner had been over something so petty I can’t even remember what it was. I know I was in a shitty mood. I said something, she said something back, I replied, and she got up and left.

I should’ve followed her. Instead, I ordered another drink, sat, and drank it, thinking I was giving my angry Kitten time to calm down. I knew Benny was outside in the Jag, and I fully expected to find her sitting out there waiting for me when I finally paid the bill and stepped outside. Biggest. Mistake. Of. My. Fucking. Life.

“Where the f*ck is she, Ben?” I asked him as I opened the car door and found the back seat empty.

“She stormed off up the alley, boss. The motor won’t fit down there so I couldn’t follow. I didn’t wanna go around the block to the road in case you came out and wondered where the f*ck we were.”

I climbed into the front seat next to him. “Go to her place, she probably jumped in a cab and went home.”

I sent Benny home and let myself into Georgia’s place, using the key she had given me.

It was empty.

I was both pissed off and worried and even more angry that I cared enough to worry. I couldn’t call anyone. Bailey and Lennon had threatened me with a slow painful death if I ever upset her, so I wasn’t about to go there, and I had no contact details for her other brother, Marley. He’d probably just tell the other two anyway, or worse still, their dad. I most definitely didn’t want Frank Layton on my case on top of everything else.

I had been having a spot of bother with a couple brothels and coffee houses we owned in Amsterdam. It was all legal and above board, but the Russians recently moved into the area and were pushing their luck. Trying to make me pay for protection. Me? I didn’t f*cking think so. They obviously had no clue who they were dealing with, so I sent a dozen blokes over there to introduce themselves. I thought they’d gotten the message. Then two nights ago, one of the coffee shops burnt down and three of our girls were roughed up. A point needed to be made, and it had to be made in person. We were gonna have to fly to Amsterdam sometime soon and sort this out ourselves, which was the last thing I needed. I was in the middle of negotiating the purchase of a house for myself and Georgia. I had thought it was a done deal. I had thought my offer had been accepted. Apparently, I had been wrong. I got a lot of things wrong that week.

I eventually crawled into Georgia’s bed, and like the sad f*ck I was, I fell asleep with my face buried in her pillow.

There was no sign of her at her flat the next morning. I went down to the shop and asked down there. I didn’t know the girl who was working, but she made some calls and then told me Georgia was taking a few days off.

I went back to my flat and checked my answerphone, nothing except a message from Benny telling me I needed to get in touch with him ASAP regarding our “Russian problem”. I showered and went down to my office at the back of the wine bar.

Robbie was waiting for me.

“Rob?”

“You need to fly over to Amsterdam this afternoon. The rest of the boys are on the ferry on their way over there now. I’ve set up a meet with you and Nikolay Kadnikov for tomorrow.”

Fuck, I thought I’d at least have the weekend to smooth things over with Georgia and get this house deal done.

“Why the rush?”

“The rush, little brother, is because they slapped another one of our girls last night. Sending the boys on their own didn’t work, so one of us needs to go. Josh is still in Marbella, Teresa is due to have the baby any day and needs me close, so that, sunshine, just leaves you. Flight’s booked, and you need to be at City Airport by three. You fly out at four thirty.”

“For f*ck’s sake, can’t this wait till Monday?”

“No, it can’t. I promised Krystal we’d get this sorted. We’ve always looked after our girls, and right now, they’re all too terrified to take a trip to the supermarket or to pick their kids up from school in case another warning gets delivered. Krystal said Marika’s nose was broken last night. These Russian’s are taking the piss. I want it sorted, today. Whatever piece of fanny you’ve got lined up can keep till next week.”

I was so pissed off by all of this, I was pacing. I didn’t pace. Not until I’d met Georgia, anyway.

“Georgia is not a piece of fanny. Don’t f*cking talk about her like that,” I warned him before sitting myself down in my office chair—the “twirling” chair.

“Georgia? Frank Layton’s daughter? You still tapping that? Playing with fire there, bruv. When big bad Frank finds out, you won’t just get burned, you’ll get f*cking cremated.”

“Fuck off, Rob. He’s the least of my worries.”