ASBO: A Novel of Extreme Terror(49)

“Time for the next tooth,” said Frankie clicking the pliers open and shut. Blood still dripped from the implement.

“STOP IT!”

Andrew leant sideways to see around Frankie. What he saw was Davie, stood up beside the sofa and facing down his brother.

Frankie spun around. “What the f*ck, Davie?”

Davie’s eyes narrowed beneath the bandage around his forehead; his slim shoulders were rigid, tense. “I’m done with this, Frankie! You’ve hurt these people enough and I can’t take any more of this sick shit.”

Andrew couldn’t see Frankie’s face now, his back was turned, but he could tell by the unmoving body language that the thug was dumbfounded by his little brother’s sudden outburst.

“What’s your problem? This goddamn pedo ran you the-f*ck-over.”

“It was an accident,” said Davie, a single decibel below a shout, “and it happened because I was running away after what you did to that girl at the chip shop. If you hadn’t taken me along I wouldn’t have got hit by any car.”

“You keep your mouth shut about that. You want me to get pinched?”

Davie shook his head, exasperated. “You’re already going to get pinched. You’re planning on killing people tonight.”

So I was right, Andrew thought grimly. The psychopath really does have it in him to commit murder.

“So what?” said Frankie. “Shit happens. Long as we’re smart, no one will pin a thing on us.”

Davie huffed and seemed incredulous. “Us? Us? I want nothing to do with this whole mess. This is all down to you and your shit-faced mates.”

“Hey, man, that’s not cool,” said Jordan from the floor.

“No,” Frankie agreed. “Not cool at all.” He marched forward and prodded a finger into Davie’s chest. “Now you chill the f*ck out, little bro, or things are going to end bad for you.”

Davie didn’t move an inch. “I love you, Frankie, but if you carry on hurting these people then I ain’t your bro no more.”

Frankie was silent for a while as he seemed to consider his next words. “You sure you want things to go down like that?”

Davie nodded and stood firm, not breaking eye-contact for a second.

Andrew sat and watched from the armchair, hardly able to breathe as he waited for an outcome to this familial confrontation – it seemed his life might very well hang in the balance. At least, if anything, he’d judged Davie correctly – the boy was nothing like his older brother.

“I let them go: I go down,” said Frankie. “You want that?”

Davie sighed. “Course not. You’re my blood.”

“So, what then? What would you have me do, Davie? You seem to be the one with all of the goddamn answers, so please enlighten me.”

Davie shrugged. “Just leave. They won’t say anything.”

Frankie laughed his head off. “You’re shitting me? Course they will!”

“Not if you threaten to send someone round to finish the job. Just like the kid in the bathtub – nothing gets said to the police and everything stays cool.”

Everything will not be cool, thought Andrew as he looked across at his catatonic wife, bleeding from her butchered face beneath a bald head. This isn’t going to end with you just walking away, scot free. No way in hell.

Frankie took some time to think about things. Andrew took the same time to do some thinking of his own. If Frankie did leave, then the first thing Andrew would do was call the police. But if Frankie stayed, then he most certainly intended to commit murder. If that was the outcome then Andrew wasn’t going to go down without a fight. The agony of his tooth extraction had reawakened his senses to the point that they were on high alert. If Andrew was going to save his family it would be now while everyone was distracted.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie told his brother earnestly. “I can’t leave things now. My business isn’t done. Got to ride this thing to the end.”

I’ll end it for you right now, you son of a bitch.

Andrew leapt from the armchair and barrelled into the back of Frankie as hard as he could. The body tackle sent Frankie forward with enough force that he flipped clear over the room’s coffee table and landed awkwardly on a shoulder. Like angry bees, the twins were on him in an instant.

Andrew lunged aside as Dom attempted to tackle him. The teen missed and went tumbling into the TV stand headfirst. Without thinking, Andrew swung his leg and connected with the boy’s ribs, enjoying the crunching impact it made. Michelle attacked next. The wicked little harlot screeched at him like a medieval warmaiden. Andrew had no time to consider the ethics of hitting a girl and threw the hardest punch he could produce. Lips and teeth mushed beneath his colliding fist and Michelle flew backwards, already unconscious on her way down to the floor.