Time To Play by KA Richardson (best book club books of all time TXT) 📗

ease. Stepping over the threshold, he paused, listening for the slightest sound to indicate that anyone was inside.

He heard nothing, not even the whisper of a spider crossing the floorboards. It was as if the house itself was on edge.

He shivered, almost turning to leave, but something compelled him forward. And that something was the thought that maybe Yolanda would trust him and take him with her to wherever she was headed to set up shop.

Determination flooded through him – he deserved a break, he’d worked damn hard for Rocko, recently, doing all the crap that no one else wanted to do. He deserved the money, the freedom to shag whichever girl he wanted whenever the need overtook him. He deserved to be part of the bigger picture.

Pushing open the door to the main reception room, he froze as he came face to face with the barrel of a gun.

He felt his stomach bottom out in shock. He knew violence, hell, he enjoyed violence, but never against himself. And this was the first time he’d ever been faced with a gun.

Gaz looked past the gun, up the man’s arms, and straight into his steely, emotionless eyes. In that moment, Gaz realised he knew nothing of violence. This man, standing in front of him with his hand raised steady, and his finger on the trigger, knew all about pain.

Belatedly, Gaz registered the telltale smell of metal in the air – metal from freshly spilled blood.

His eyes drifted to his left, and he saw the bodies of Yolanda and her two henchmen, a single bullet wound to the middle of each of their heads.

‘Please, no…’ begged Gaz, stumbling backwards in a feeble attempt to get away.

The man clicked his jaw twice, steadying himself as a soft pop emitted from the weapon in his hand. He felt the subtle jerk in his hand, comfortable in how it felt. The silencer deadened the noise that would have alerted every house in the vicinity, and he watched as Gaz toppled sideways, his eyes wide, his life already extinguished.

Such was the nature of the job.

Quickly, he progressed with a thorough sweep of the premises; his orders were clear. Make sure no one was left standing: and he never failed to carry those orders out. He’d done it for years, was the best in the business.

Happy that the house was now void of life, he did a search and recover for any documentation that could potentially point to those he called ‘the management’. What little he found was immediately destroyed in a flash of flame.

One last check of the reception room, and it was time to leave. He slipped down the driveway using the trees as cover, got into the non-descript Ford Focus that hovered near the driveway entrance – the false plates meant that even if it was seen it wouldn’t be identifiable – turned the key in the ignition, and drove off.

Another job complete.

 

Epilogue

Marlo’s Flat, Sunderland – 18 December

Marlo’s stomach hadn’t stopped churning all morning. She knew it was just nerves, but it was unsettling.

Agent Kenton from the Border Force was due to ring before noon to let them know the status of Elvie’s immigration request. She’d sought asylum in the firm belief that if she returned to her village she’d be taken again and forced into the sex trade elsewhere. He’d already indicated there should be no problem, but one could never be sure.

Elvie was nervous, too. She hadn’t moved from her perch on the sofa all morning, sitting in silence and chewing on her fingernails. Marlo would have been worried, but for the fact Ali sat next to her, cradling the lukewarm coffee she’d made him almost an hour ago.

Marlo’s head was filled with what if’s and maybes. She was terrified something would come up at the last minute and Elvie would be returned to the Philippines.

They all jumped visibly as the phone rang.

Picking up the receiver, Marlo listened intently.

All she heard though were the words, ‘…pleased to grant Elvie Aquino UK residency…’

She couldn’t stop the smile that lit up her face, and when Elvie jumped off the couch and threw her arms around her, Marlo hugged back tightly, tears streaming down her face. Ali grabbed them both, wrapping his arms around them simultaneously, and they just stood for a minute.

When they broke apart, Marlo decided it was time to tell Elvie something she hoped would make the child even happier.

‘You remember you told me about your granddad, the Englishman your gran lost touch with? Elvie, he’s not dead. He had a stroke so couldn’t write, but he’s alive, and what’s more he doesn’t live far away. I spoke to his carers this morning, explained about you, and they think it would do him the world of good to see you. Would you like to go and see him?’

Elvie nodded, obviously not trusting herself to speak. Her eyes were filled with wonder.

I hope they never stop being filled with so much happiness. Marlo kept her thought to herself and held her hand out and took hold of Elvie’s, turning to smile at Ali as they went to leave.

‘You coming?’

‘Can’t,’ he replied, his voice obviously disappointed. ‘Have to go in for a meeting with the super. I believe her exact words to the whole team were ‘be there or heads will roll’ so I can’t really bow out. She’s practically blown a gasket over the deaths in Hetton – a professional hit in the north-east, no viable leads. It’s a certifiable shitstorm.’

Marlo nodded. ‘Sorry, love. If the leads aren’t there, though, that’s not your fault. Don’t let her bully you. We’ll see you when we get back.’

‘OK, love. Then we’ll talk about looking for a place to live. Together,’ he said meaningfully.

Marlo blushed. Moving in together after only