The Jade Garden (The Barrington Patch Book 2) by Emmy Ellis (reading diary txt) 📗

“What’s with the knife? It is a knife, isn’t it?”

Jason’s patience had run out. “Get them off,” he shouted, his throat straining from the pressure of anger.

Brett scrabbled to do as he was told. The thick twat was by his back door, only had to wrench the curtain across, turn the key, and he’d be out of there. Fear of Jason must be forcing him to obey, and Jason got off on that.

“Now your boxers.” And, Jesus Christ, they could do with a wash.

Brett did as he was told and covered his meat and two with trembling hands.

“Bend over that table and part your legs.” Jason took a step forward, a stomp to scare the man.

Brett flung himself over the paraphernalia—plates with food stuck to them, magazines, cups half filled with coffee—and some things fell to the floor.

“Where’s the clothing you had on at the Jade?” Jason scanned the room for it but spotted nowt.

“In my w-washing m-machine.”

That was something then.

“Spread your arse cheeks.” Jason moved to stand behind a quivering Brett, repulsed by his pasty backside covered in a light dusting of black fur.

“Please, not that.” Brett whimpered. “Don’t rape me. Owt but that.”

“Rape you?” Jason laughed and bent over to inspect the eye of the storm in the arse crack. “I wouldn’t touch you that way. You’re a fucking pervert for even thinking of it.” He lined the top of the knife handle up with the brown star. “But you’ll be buggered by something else in a second.”

Jason pressed the blade release button, and the knife shot up into the hole. Blood, split skin, Brett howling, his head thrown back, baying at the ceiling. The prat slumped onto the crockery, knocking a coffee cup over, and he gripped the opposite edge of the table, knuckles pale, his body convulsing. Blood trickled down the insides of his thighs. Jason flicked his wrist, the blade skirting the base of the baggy bollocks, then withdrew the knife, leaving Brett to scream and bleed while he cleaned his weapon at the sink.

“Noisy wanker.” Jason smiled at the blood diluting in the stream coming from the tap, the pink landing on the dirty dishes in the stacked washing-up bowl.

Brett’s volume decreased, and he sobbed, mumbling crap Jason didn’t want to hear. Oh God, I’m so sorry and I won’t do owt like that again.

“No, you won’t.” Jason returned to his place behind Brett and, cringing, grabbed his greasy hair, yanking his head back. Knife in his left hand, placed at the scrag end’s neck, he bent low to whisper, “This isn’t a machete, but it’ll do the job.”

He sliced across, deliberately arcing his arm sidewards so the blood streaked the gross curtains. Using his non-dominant hand would have the police looking for a leftie, and that suited Jason down to the ground.

Brett gurgled, and Jason peered around to watch the blood gushing from the wound. It splashed onto the shit on the table, coating it in rivers and dots, creating a lovely mess.

Jason dropped the head and stepped back to study his handiwork for a bit. Not bad if he did say so himself. He turned to go to the sink again but stopped short. The envelope he’d dropped into the bin at Greggs earlier sat on the top of the tall fridge beside a two-litre bottle of Coke and a large bag of chilli heatwave Doritos.

“I’ll have that little lot, thanks.”

He washed the knife, slid it in his pocket. Put the drink, crisps, and money onto a Sainsbury’s carrier bag he found on the floor, then emptied the washing machine and added the clothes to his haul. He walked over and inspected Brett’s trainers. What a div, he hadn’t cleaned them. Blood spotted the fronts. Jason found another carrier under the sink and put the footwear inside.

At the back door, giving Brett the once-over, he smiled at the state of the bloke. “You messed with the wrong man, pal.”

He strode round the house switching all the lights off then, back in the kitchen, snapped the curtain across. Dust billowed, and Jason held back a cough, opening the door and stepping outside. No way would he leave via the front, not with Brett screaming not long ago. Anyone could be out there, alerted by the noise, waiting for him to emerge.

Climbing over a fence wasn’t something he’d done for years, but he vaulted it, bags swaying, and landed in a ginnel that separated the back gardens in the row. He searched his mind for the layout of the area and stalked to the right, ending up at the alley he’d gone down earlier. In the next street, he got in his car, dumped the bags in the passenger footwell, and checked all the houses. No one seemed to be about, so he drove away, pleased with his work.

He’d be known as a force to be reckoned with soon when he called the shots. Until then, he’d keep his extra-curricular activities to himself, reliving them at night, Jack Daniel’s with ice and some of Richie’s coke stash for company.

Life would be everything he wanted.

Eventually.

Chapter Three

Li Jun stood at the back door of the Jade kitchen and observed his family working as if nothing had happened. Noodles flying, woks shaken so rice flew up in an arc, chicken sizzling. Yenay had calmed an irate woman who was annoyed about being left outside, the front door locked. She’d made out the gas range wasn’t working, but all was well now. The customer had walked off with her free chicken curry for the inconvenience, smiling brightly.

So this was how life had eventually panned out, and he’d known it would from the second he’d agreed to work for Lenny. You acted a part, played it well, and the public were none the