Against the Tide (21 page)

“Marc,” I call loudly across the garage. I hear a bang, and a clatter of tools being dropped to the concrete floor. He curses under his breath before peering around the open bonnet of a very nice Skyline.

He rubs the top of his head where he just banged it on the hood. “You fucking twat.”

“Aww, don’t be like that, buddy. Tell me you missed me,” I tease.

“Like a hole in the head.” He embraces me in a man hug, slapping me on the back with his oily hands. “How you doing, Finny boy?”

“Better than before.”

“Well, anything less than that and you would be dead.”

“Yeah, I know.” The seriousness halts the conversation for a moment and he gives my shoulder a squeeze. This is about as much man love as I can take. “So, where is she?” I rub my hands together in excitement.

“Who?”

“You know who I’m talking about. The love of my life.”

“I’ve tucked her away out the back.” He tilts his head and gestures for me to follow him.

When we get to the back workshop, I see her. Well, not yet I don’t, she’s under a sheet, but I’d know her anywhere. Jezebel. My pride and joy. Marc pulls the dust sheet off and I smile wide. She is gleaming. I run my finger lightly over her chrome handlebars and along the shiny black paintwork.

“I’ve missed you, my darling,” I whisper to myself with a huge goofy grin on my face.

“I’ve given her a good polish and started her every day to keep her sweet.”

“Thanks, Marc. I’m sorry I−”

“No apologies. I know it’s been hard, man.”

“I just couldn’t think straight, ya know?”

“Yep.” He gives a small smile then rolls the dust sheet up in his hands and tosses it aside. “You gonna keep her waiting all day?” I’m thankful that he didn’t expect an explanation from me.

“Not likely.” I grin, feeling excitement building in my belly. It’s been far too long.

Marc opens the double doors to the side of the workshop and I roll Jezebel out carefully. She feels so perfect under my hands and I climb on eagerly. When I start the engine, she roars to life then purrs as if she has missed me. Marc chucks me my helmet and I put it on and fasten it before giving him a nod and smoothly pulling away.

It’s been over a month since I rode Jezebel. So much has changed, but not her. She’s still the same. The one girl I can always rely on. I ride the roads for an hour. Pushing the power underneath me to the limits and taking some risks which feel calculated but exciting all the same. It’s liberating. I feel free and able to clear my mind of the noise in my head for the whole ride and just concentrate on what I’m doing.

When I pull back up at the garage, Marc is just closing up for the day.

“Good ride?” he asks as I climb off the bike and take off my helmet.

“The best. God, it felt good to ride today.”

“You leaving her here or taking her with you?”

“I’m staying at my mum’s, so I’ll leave her here. That okay with you?”

“Sure thing, I’ll go open the side doors.”

I wheel her in and Marc covers her over with the dust sheet. “I’ll come by tomorrow and polish her up. Will you be here?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

I shake my head at him. “Gotcha. You must be busy then,” I muse as we close up the doors.

“I’m a man down, Finn. You know how crazy it gets around here.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, mate.”

“I know. Can’t be helped, but if you want to come back for a few days a week, I could do with your help.”

I draw in a breath. Confused as to why I should need to think about it, but there’s a nagging feeling telling me that I’m just not ready yet. “With my mum being so sick, I’m not sure I can give you the commitment you need. I don’t want to let you down again.”

“I hear ya. Look, how about we play it by ear on a daily basis. I’ll pay you day rate. Come in when you can, or if you want to, and we can go from there. No pressure, no ties.”

“Why would you do that for me?” I’ve been a selfish bastard and haven’t given anyone else a second thought over the last month, and every time someone does something considerate for me, I feel guilty but grateful.

“Finn.” He shakes his head at me with a huge frown creasing his forehead. “You’re my mate. You’ve had a fucking hard time of things. I can’t do much for you, but the least I can do is guarantee your job will be here when you want it, whenever you’re ready. Plus, there’s a selfish motive behind it.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re the best mechanic I have. I don’t want to lose you to someone else. And if you decide you’d like to come and help me tomorrow, I could use a hand with that Skyline.”

“Why not?” I smirk

“Great.” He claps me on the back. “Fancy a beer?”

“Sure, don’t have anywhere else to be.”

Marc places two pints of lager on the table and throws me a packet of crisps.

“Cheers, mate,” I respond, raising my glass to him and taking a mouthful of the sharp cold lager. “So, how’s Emma?”

“She’s good. Getting big now.”

“Eh?” I frown. “What do you mean?”

“She’s pregnant, Finn. You didn’t know?”

“No, man. I didn’t know.” I shake his hand across the table. “Congratulations! That’s fantastic news.”

“Yeah.” He smiles, a real gooey smile which just shouts happiness. “It is. We never told anyone until she was in the safe zone. She’s nearly halfway along.”

“I’m happy for you, man. I really am.”

“Thanks, Finn. It’s just so weird, you know? A little person, growing inside of Em.”

“And in a few months that little person will be out and screaming.”

“Yeah, thanks. It’s going to change everything. Already has.”

“No wonder you want me to come back to work.”

“Finn, there’s no pressure. Come back when you’re ready, if it’s too soon I’ll understand.”

“No. If I’m honest, it’ll always be too soon to start moving on with my life, and with everything else, I just don’t know when I’ll be thrown back to that dark place. But I need to get back to some kind of normality.” I shrug, not wanting to make any promises for fear of breaking them.

“How’s your mum doing?”

“She’s hanging in there. But …” I swallow around the huge lump that has formed in my throat at the mention of my mum. “She hasn’t got long, Marc. She’s thinner, more tired, and there’s no way of making her better. So−”

“I’m sorry, mate. You’ve been dealt a shitty hand, huh?”

“Yeah, some fucker up there doesn’t like me.” I glance up to the ceiling and shake my head. “Probably karma for all the dodgy stuff I’ve ever done before.”

“Nah. It’s just life, mate.” He shrugs and gives me a small smile.

“Yeah, I guess. All that stuff with Lizzie has added years on her, me too. I feel like an old man, especially with all the shit that’s still going on.”

Marc leans back in his chair and grabs his pint. “Wanna tell me about it?”

I take a swig of my beer and place it back down on the table, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “How long have you got, Marc?” I laugh wryly.

“Well, Em likes me back for tea, but if you need longer …”

“Short version, I found out Lizzie was drugged. Her drink was spiked by a dealer called Damien Brooks, who decided he didn’t like me asking around about him, so he thought he would pay my mum a visit, and−”

“Wait. Did you just say Damien Brooks?”

“Yeah, why?” I push myself up in my seat and lean forward to him.

“Shit, I knew I’d seen his face somewhere before.” Marc sits up and places his pint on the table before pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a deep breath.

“What, Marc? How do you know him?”

“I don’t know him. That skyline in the garage? It’s his. Thought he seemed like a dodgy fucker. Something not right about him.”

I sit quietly, feeling the familiar coil of hatred that is synonymous with his name. My mind has been slow lately. Not wanting to function for fear of the pain that goes with living when you’ve lost someone. But where Damien Brooks is concerned, I think fast.

“How long will you have it for?”

“Why? What are you thinking, Finn?”

“Nothing.” I grab up my glass and take a long swig. I have a million scenarios running through my head in the space of a second. Could I set him up with drugs in his car? Could I fix it so that I’m the only one there when he picks it up?

“Finn, I don’t want to be a part of whatever you’re thinking about doing. Whatever it is, it’s bound to be illegal, right?”

I sigh before looking him in the eyes and answering, “Yes.” I can’t lie to him, but I also don’t need to tell him about what I might do. In fact it’s probably better for him that he doesn’t know anything about it.

“I can’t get banged up, mate. Not with Em and the baby,” he pleads.

“I understand, Marc.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head uneasily. “Finn, fuck, I wish I hadn’t told you now, whatever has you looking so intense will probably come back to bite me, and you, if you’re not careful.”

“Look, if I don’t tell you anything then you can’t be guilty, can you?”

“So you are planning something ...”

I feel my patience start to waver with him. This is my opportunity to nail the bastard. “Look, Marc. How would you feel if you had a baby girl, then one day someone ended her life? A cruel, unnecessary act that leaves you and Emma devastated?”

“What the fuck are you getting at with this?” he snaps. I know I’m pushing his buttons but it’s the only way I can get him to see things from my point of view.

“What if you had a chance to set the balance straight and have justice for your baby girl?”

“You’re out of line, Finn,” he warns, and I already see the protective instinct toward his unborn child come out in him. I don’t mean to push him so far but it’s the only way I can give him some idea of how I feel.

“Maybe I am, but think about it. Very soon, possibly only weeks, I’ll be left with no family whatsoever. My sister was as good as murdered, and my mum is dying. The man that killed my sister is out there and free to do it again and again.” I realise my voice is getting louder, and I look around at my surroundings to make sure no one is in close proximity enough to listen. “He could do it to someone else’s sister, daughter, son. I might be able to put him behind bars but I need you to trust me.” I tap my foot impatiently on the leg of the table and look at him expectantly.

“How can I do that, Finn?” he mutters reluctantly, shaking his head. “I never asked to be involved in any of this, shit, I wish I never told you now.”

“Just … forget we had this conversation, will you?”

“What?”

“That’s what I need. I need you to forget we ever spoke about this, okay? Forget you told me, forget I know that’s Damien Brooks’ car.” I wish he hadn’t actually told me. Scenarios run through my head, and now I feel like maybe this is an opportunity for me to even the score. Could I fix him up somehow? Plant drugs? Something, anything to get him arrested? But there’s more at stake here than just my sanity, and for the first time in forever, I realise that I can’t risk it, it would affect so many other people, not just me.

“That’s it? That’s all you need me to do?”

I sigh, “Yeah, just forget about it all.”

“I don’t think you should go.” Jamie stands in the doorway with her hands on her hips, and a frown on her face.