Ten Thousand Lies (3 page)

It was no surprise that Rex’s family home was a bloody dump. Cowley wasn’t the best of neighborhoods in Oxfordshire, and the row of houses on this particular street didn’t boast the greatest care. A step or two above slum at best.

“Jesus…” whispered Deo from next to me, looking out the passenger window at the miserable sight.

No outdoor lamps were on—a stroke of luck for us. Behind the closed blinds, the flickering glow of a telly pulsed.

The neighbors on either side were quiet, no signs of activity. Directly across the street, the house had lights on, but the curtains were drawn.

Rex was struggling to sit up. Glancing back, I saw him shrug off Ronen’s assistance.

I looked to Deo. “You think we should idle the van up to the front door?”

He glanced around, assessing. Deo was good at that.

“He’s in the living room,” stated Rex. Poor kid sounded like he was hurting bad. “Our best bet is to sneak through the back garden and go into the kitchen. We’ll go around the side to the right.”

Deo nodded. Backing the van up so that all we’d have to do was hop out and make our way up the side of the house, he then killed the engine and headlamps. “Call me when it’s done, and I’ll drive up to the door. Just in case, make it look like the kid is moving out or something.”

I turned to Rex. “I know you want to go apeshit on the fucker, but we gotta make this clean. The less evidence lying around, the better. You feel me?”

“Are your parents happily married?” asked Deo.

Rex, Ronen, and I turned to look at him in surprise.

“What? If we can make it look like the fucker upped and left, it’d make it easier on all of us. Just saying.”

“He’s got a point,” said Ronen.

“My parents are dysfunctional at the best of times,” said Rex. “I’m hardly ever here. I mostly stay with my best friend and her dad. I need you to take me there after we’re done. She’s probably worried sick over me.”

“Okay. Where is she?” asked Deo.

“Iffley Village.”

“Not too far then,” said Deo.

“No guns unless absolutely necessary,” I said. “How do you plan to take him out?”

“Bin bag over his head?” asked Rex.

“That’ll do. Let’s get this done then,” I replied.

We exited the van, shutting the doors as silently as possible, and then crept around the side of the house and into the back garden. Rex led the way through the darkness. Stopping at a small back door, Ronen and I readied our guns and silencers, just to be on the safe side.

Sweating profusely, looking pale and a little shaky, Rex noiselessly turned the doorknob. Luck was still on our side; it wasn’t locked. The kid took a deep breath and slowly opened the door.

Only the light above the cooker was on. The ceiling lamp bulb was black, blown out. It stank of burned food and stale beer. The sink was loaded with filth, spilling over onto the counter. Take-out containers littered an overflowing garbage pail.

Ronen sneered with disgust.

Making my way into the kitchen, I made sure not to step on anything that’d bring attention to us. Ronen, slick cat that he was, slipped in next to me. Together, our guns held out before us, we watched as Rex opened the cabinet beneath the sink and removed a roll of bin bags. With his eyes glued into the room beyond, the telly light bounced off his face as he painstakingly tried to soundlessly separate a bag from along the perforated edge. Then, he slowly worked the bag open, bunching and rolling the sides in his hands.

Even knowing the monster my own father was, I wasn’t sure I would be capable of killing him. As much as I hated the man, I loved him, too.

There was no love in Rex for the man who’d sired him.

Calmly, Rex put one foot in front of the other, heading toward the flickering light. We followed until we stood behind Rex in the living room—Ronen to his left, me on the right.

Shit, this place was a hovel. I fucking smoked, and I had ashtrays that smelled better than this shit heap. The stench of the place made me want to gag. Beer bottles, scraps of food, and cigarette butts littered the coffee table.

In front of us sat the motherfucker in the center of a couch I wouldn’t let a dog sleep on. His hairy shoulders moved in a rhythm that was heavier than breathing. Glancing at the telly, I saw he was watching porn.

Motherfucker.

Twelve hours or so ago, this man had driven his son to London and sold him into slavery, and here he was, having a wank to lesbian porn, like it was any other boring-ass day.

I caught Ronen’s eye and nodded. Raising our guns, we took aim. If the man overpowered Rex, we would be prepared to take him down.

Drawing himself up to his full height—which was pretty impressive since he was at least six feet tall—Rex swelled with his breath. In this moment, I knew the rush of adrenaline had wiped out all traces of his pain. Burning with the powerful rage of a victim, he was going to claim his old man’s life. Shoulders bunching beneath his soiled T-shirt, Rex raised his arms, and in one fluid movement, he had the bin bag over his father’s head, wrapping it around his neck and pulling with all the strength he had.

Richard Sr. flailed. With his windpipe constricted, the man was unable to scream. Grasping his son’s arms, he desperately tried to pry his assailant off. Rex had some serious strength, lifting the man up the back of the couch, bowing backward with the effort to hold on.

About a minute later, the body slumped into the cushions.

Ronen smiled from ear to ear.
“Yes,”
he whispered. “That was amazing, Rex. Well done.”

Rex sank to his knees and rested his forehead against the back of the sofa, panting and sweating. Ronen walked up to him as I pulled out my phone to call Deo.

“It’s finished,” I said when he picked up.

Ronen grasped Rex’s shoulder in a show of solidarity. I stared at the dark stain on the seat of Rex’s pants.

“We gotta get going,” I said.

“Should we take anything, Rex?” asked Ronen. “Clothes or any of your dad’s shit to make it look like he up and left?”

“Go get some of his shit,” I told Rex. “We’ll get the fucker in the van.”

In a daze, Rex got to his feet and headed for a staircase. Ronen waited until Rex was up the stairs, and not wanting to take any chances, he snapped Richard Sr.’s neck. Then, he and I hefted the nasty motherfucker off the couch.

“I’m going to boil myself after this,” muttered Ronen. “I hope his friend’s house is better than this dump.”

“You and me both, brother.”

Dragging the corpse to the door, I opened it a crack and looked around. It seemed like we were in the clear, and I opened it up and reached for the back door to the van. We made quick work of getting the deadweight in there. Deo was at the ready with a tarp, rolling him up in it, as Rex threw a trash bag of shit next to the body.

“Let’s go,” said Rex.

“Is there anything here you need to take with you?” asked Ronen.

“Not that I can think of,” he replied.

Less than ten minutes later, we pulled up in front of a nice brick home with a well-manicured garden. What a fucking difference from the one we’d just left behind.

Rex gave off a sigh, a sound of relief. Looking over my shoulder at him, I could see he wasn’t doing too good. I opened the door and hopped out while Ronen slid back the side door.

“Deo, help them,” I said.

Grumbling, Deo did as I’d told him. Technically, he wasn’t one of my guys, not like Ronen was. Come what may, I had to make sure Deo wouldn’t be connected to this at all. Deo tried to stay out of mob shit. But he was my oldest friend, and I was a mob boss’s son. He’d always known that my brother, Max, and I were planning to put an end to this sort of shit. He supported it and said he’d help in any way he could, just so long as we wouldn’t get him or his mom killed.

Supporting Rex under each of his arms, Deo and Ronen followed me to the front landing. Not caring that it was nearly midnight, I pounded on the heavy door. From inside came the sound of footsteps stomping down a flight of stairs. The door flew open.

Before us stood one of the prettiest girls I had ever seen. A wealth of auburn hair piled on top of her head, she wore glasses, a well-worn The Doors
T-shirt, and sweatpants. In the soft glow of the lamp next to the door, I caught sight of a black freckle on her right cheekbone.

Looking past me, she gasped in shock. “Rex?”

The kid broke down. On a sob, he croaked, “Xanthe.”

Ricki

Rex tripped over his feet and landed in Xanthe’s arms, the both of them then sinking to the floor.

“What happened to you?” she whispered, horrified, taking in the dried blood on his face and hands.

Behind her, an older man with a huge beard and glasses quietly made his way toward us. His eyes behind his glasses pierced me, recognizing me. Next to me, Deo grunted; he’d spotted the stain on Rex’s pants.

Without a word, the man came and helped Xanthe lift Rex to his feet. His behavior—or rather, the lack thereof—struck me as odd. If he were surprised to see us, he didn’t show it. The trio made their way down the hallway, leaving the three of us standing on the front step.

The man turned his head to look back at us. “Are you coming, or are you just going to stand there like a bunch of twats?”

Deo grabbed my shoulder. “Willis doesn’t use protection, does he?”

“Not that I could see,” I replied.

“Motherfucker.”

I headed inside, and Ronen followed with Deo coming in last, shutting and locking the door behind him.

This
was a home. By no means was it large, and most of the space was packed with bookshelves filled to bursting. A small telly was crammed on a low shelf, surrounded by even more books. Odd artifacts hung on walls, like weird masks, ancient maps, framed weapons of indeterminate age—that sort of shite.

Deo stood next to a desk overflowing with crap, scanning the place for escape routes and evidence of who these people were. Ronen was next to me, staring at Rex. Xanthe and who I presumed to be her father laid Rex on the couch on his left side.

“Does he need to go to the hospital?” the man asked.

“Yes. The sooner, the better,” replied Deo, causing a shiver to work its way down my spine.

Unfortunately, my oldest friend knew of such things.

“He was raped,” said Ronen.

Rex moaned in pain and humiliation.

“What?”
screeched Xanthe.

“By who?” asked the man.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s dead,” I replied.

The man looked at me again, his eyes a cold gray behind the lenses of his glasses. He wasn’t shocked by that statement, another thing I found odd.

“What happened? How…” asked Xanthe. She knelt beside Rex, cradling his head to her chest.

“His father sold him to mine to settle a debt,” I replied, still held captive by the man’s gaze. “We were too late.”

“What the
fuck
?” Xanthe’s arms tightened around Rex. “Dad—”

“Cool it, Xanthe,” he said.

Xanthe’s face went smooth, emotionless.

“So, what’s the son of The Godwin doing, bringing home a raped kid?”

Xanthe gasped. “
The
Godwin?” Glancing at her father again, her face went blank once more.

What a weird fucking pair they are.

“I’m James,” I told her. “Jamey. Since you obviously know who I am, you think you could tell me your name?” I asked, turning back to Xanthe’s father.

“It’s David Malcolm,” answered Deo. He held up some mail, giving it a wave toward Rex. “He should be started on antivirals as soon as possible.” Then, he asked, “Is anyone else here?”

“Deo…” I said.

He pointed at a photo on one of the shelves. Three people were in it—one of them David and the young girl must have been Xanthe. The woman was missing from the home.

“No,” said Xanthe softly.

“Who is that?” Deo asked.

“My dead wife,” replied David.

Ronen and I looked at each other with the same expression on our faces.

Can’t fucking take Deo anywhere.

Deo was blunt, but his questioning was for everyone’s safety. I just hoped David understood that.

“Look,” I said, “we don’t have much time to give you the full rundown, but we’re not the bad guys. My father has his hands in some sick shit, and what he had planned for Rex…we couldn’t let it happen.”

“And what
did
happen to Rex is never going to leave him,” stated Ronen. “Rex knows what we’re doing. We’re trying to put a stop to human trafficking. He wants in. We helped him off his old man, and in return, he’s promised to join us—”

“I’m sorry but over my dead bloody body,” said David fiercely.

“That can be arranged,” said Deo.

“Shut it,” I snapped at everyone. “Rex killed his rapist, and then we took him to kill his father,” I explained to David. “You don’t come back from that sort of shit. We need him, and he’s going to need us.”

“You did that?” whispered Xanthe to Rex.

There was an unmistakable note of awe in her voice. Glancing at her, I saw the same pride in her eyes that I had felt myself for the kid.

“How’d you do it?” she asked.

“Xanthe,” said David in a warning tone.