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Authors: Billy London

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BOOK: The Claim
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He got to his feet and was followed out by DS Kirkwood, leaving them alone in the room. Anna tilted her head back. “This is not amusing Rocks.”

He picked up her hand. “That was impressive. Are you sure you don’t want to switch to crime?”

Anna shuddered, partly from Rocco’s touch and partly from the very idea. “What, so I can spend hours on end in delightful establishments like this? No. No, no and no.”

He kissed her hand. “I adore you.”

The door flew open. “You’re free to go.” Norcross spat.

“Then what—” Anna began furiously, but Rocco squeezed her hand.

“Reason being?”

“My inspector doesn’t believe there’s enough of a case.”

Anna wanted to look at Rocco, but she had an idea that the reason he’d been right behind her and not in the police car with her was all to do with his phone and who he knew. “Maybe you should go back to Police Academy,” she suggested. “Re-learn the basics so when you do arrest someone, it doesn’t breach PACE.”

Rocco got to his feet and carefully pulled Anna to her own. “Strike three, DS Norcross,” he said quietly. “Me, my father, now Ms. Taylor. Enjoy your retirement.”

He led her past the spluttering man to retrieve her belongings. “Can you do that?” Anna whispered to Rocco. He instead touched his mouth to her temple. “No, don’t kiss me, answer me!”

“For that half an hour of bullshit, yes,” he replied, “yes I can.”

Anna felt justifiably thrilled. “Get me home quick or that dick will have a valid reason to arrest me.”

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

“Annie,” Rocco whispered, brushing her hair from her ear. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

She lifted her head and squinted at the clock. “Back from where? Pimping? It’s two in the morning.”

“Just have a job to do,” he said simply.

“Rocky...”

“Do you really want to know?”

She turned onto her back and stared at him. “Stop stalling.”

Honesty was what she’d asked for. He would oblige her. “I’m going to ensure DS Norcross enjoys his retirement.”

To her credit, she didn’t ask if it was necessary or dangerous. She leaned up and kissed him hard on the mouth before snuggling back into the duvet. “Don’t get caught.”

He pressed his mouth to her neck. “I’ll do my best.”

The house was secure, and no one was getting in without incurring not only a gunshot to the face from Anna, but the burning of their bodies and scattering of their ashes if they tried.

Beppe was waiting for him in a car just outside his house. With the barest glance around, he smoothly got inside and the car carefully wheeled off.

“Surprised you came,” Beppe said quietly.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“Anna didn’t have anything to say about you skipping out at two a.m. to do, er...stuff?”

“She said don’t get caught.”

Beppe laughed. “Good girl. Are we getting your dad as well?”

“No, he’s on probation still. My family will freak out if he gets sent back to prison.”

“Ah, but that’s in the case we get caught. I don’t intend on getting caught. Look at what I brought with me!”

Beppe jerked a thumb toward the back, and Rocco saw an array of chemicals. “Are we doing an experiment?”

“Just working on a few things I want to try out.”

“Beps, that’s not right.”

“Trust me. It’s all good.”

“This from the man who took away my ability to walk.”

“For six hours, that was nothing. I’m working on the tweaks.”

“You
are
fucking tweaking if you think you’re trying anything out tonight. Tonight is not the night for you to try anything.”

“I thought I could just borrow DS Norcross for a week. Do a little work. Oh, by the way, you need to get Anna to talk to her mate for me.”

“Oh God, no. Leave Mimi alone. She’s sensible. Human. She’s not a blow-up doll.” Beppe opened his mouth, but Rocco just cut him off. “I said no. Now hurry up. I want to get this over with and get back to my girlfriend.”

Beppe cleared his throat. “Nick, did you hear that?”

“I did indeed,” came Nick’s drawl from the car speakers. “Someone in a hurry?”

“Don’t even...”

“What, you haven’t got your hands dirty like this in a long time. Looks like you’ve changed religion. Worshipping the pu—”

“Look, shut up.”

“Yes, Mistress Anna, bestow on me whatever crumb you will give—”

Beppe had his lips sucked into his mouth.

“I’m not worshipping!”

“I believe you,” Beppe said with a sincere grin.

“Is the little one cold? Cold to be away from the sunlight of his woman?”

“That sounded poetic,” Tony interrupted. “I’m waiting until you live on three hours of sleep with a newborn. See if you’ll be all romantic with your words then.”

“Yeah, fuck you and your Maclaren buggy and ‘can’t, got to stay and look after the baby’ bullshit that’s forthcoming,” Rocco seethed.

“I’m not mad you said that, coz I’m getting what I wanted. I bet you asked permission before you even left the house.”

“No,” Rocco lied.

“Pathetic Mamione.”

“I heard that far and wide, Mamione.” Tony laughed. “You did, you asked if it was okay for you to go out and deal with the fucker that’s been haunting you.”

“He’s off the force now. Makes him game,” Nick said, the glee in his voice unmistakable.

Rocco ground his teeth. “Why are you so happy about it?”

“I’m not, I’m just happy your grandmother sorted your love life out for you.”

The car was filled with the howls of laughter. “What the fuck?”

“Please, my dear child, my grandson is very good at sex. Don’t mind his hair so much.” Nick’s inflections of Nonna’s accent were uncanny. So much so, Beppe nearly swerved into a parked car laughing so hard.

“Shut up.”

“Come on,” Tony sounded breathless, “Your nonna did all the work. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had a pallet bed set up next to yours to hand over the condoms.”

“It’s fine,” Rocco said simply, leaning back into his seat and crossing his arms. “You cunts carry on.”

“You want cake, pretty? Yes? Good,” Nick mimicked. “Find my grandson a nice girl. If he doesn’t use his thing, it’ll fall off.”

“I love your nonna.”

Rocco was struggling to contain his rage. “I made one joke.”

“It wasn’t funny,” Nick said with a shrug in his voice. “This is.”

“My mother is African, you prick! I was winding you up!”

“Don’t remember it that way,” Nick murmured. “I remember that I left your face intact, so your nonna could hook you up.”

“I pointed out a valid fact, which was Gina never dated anyone like you!”

“You sound stressed, Rocks,” Tony said. “We’ve done a lot for you. Why aren’t you getting at Beppe? He’s the one that drugged you.”

Rocco glared at his supposed best friend, who didn’t take his eyes from the road. “You’re fine. No lasting damage.”

“Fuck off, all of you. If I’m happy, I work better, I’m more focused—which you lot are trying to throw off by being dicks, so stop it and be sensible.”

They were quiet for a moment before Nick said in a Nonna voice, “My Rocky’s so patient. I’ve never heard him raise his voice. He’d make some lucky girl a good husband.”

Rocco heard a squeak from Beppe that was hastily turned into a cough. “That’s fine. Stay brave now. You wait.”

“Bring it on, Bugsy,” Tony mocked.

Nick started whistling
Fat Sam’s Grand Slam
. Anna was getting spanked for that, no question.

“So when are we getting photos?”

“What?”

“You asked for pics of Lyds.”

“You never sent them!”

“Of course not. No one sees or touches what’s mine. Irrelevant. You asked, so I’m returning the favour.”

“You are married!”

“So I can’t look?”

“No!” Rocco and Nick said sternly.

“You two are mean and selfish. Beps wouldn’t do me like that.”

“Mate, I like photography, but I don’t like you that much.”

“Shut up, all of you. You are all fucked up.”

Beppe agreed. “That is true.”

Nick sounded nonchalant. “You met my mother—are you surprised?”

Tony was quiet. “Nothing to say, Tone?” Rocco prompted.

“I’m saner than the three of you put together. I’m saner than my own wife. I’m the voice of reason.”

Rocco felt a laugh building in his chest at such nonsense and held it in. Beppe came to a halt. “There they are.”

The simple Blue Ford flashed its lights twice and Beppe found a parking space, tucking himself behind the Ford. The streetlights flickered briefly before Tony and Nick emerged from the car. “Just resetting the CCTV,” Tony said, before tucking his phone into his pocket. “You look like a man under the thumb.”

“I swear, I’m going to knock you out in a minute.”

“Calm down,” Nick ordered. “Save it for your pensioner copper.”

Rocco cracked his knuckles. “His has been a long time coming.”

 

 

Norcross was enraged. Fifteen years of service on the force for what? A twenty-minute meeting before he had to collect his belongings and he was officially retired. Whatever the government said about the increase to NARPO, his pension was bullshit. The whole situation was bullshit. He’d been so close. If he’d nailed Rocco Mamione’s girlfriend, then it would have been a sliding path to getting that slick-haired punk into the nick. Over-privileged, criminal cunt. He despised them, and especially despised the ease with which they corrupted others around him, not when he could have been loyal. When he could have benefitted. Instead there was a ream of officers who suddenly lost evidence, or turned a blind eye or didn’t write down things properly and lost leads at the drop of a hat. The same people would miraculously have more money in their pockets, but there was nothing he could stick on them to catch them out, any more than he could stick something on Rocco Mamione.

Crushing his can of lager in one hand, he stirred the coloured photographs that he’d built up over years. Anna Taylor leaving college with piles of books under each arm. Rocco in the corridor of his father’s offices, the freeze frame from the CCTV that convicted his father. Whatever his father claimed, Rocco had been there that night.

The one that he always came back to was Carmen Mamione, sitting on the steps of her house waiting for her husband to come home. Her dark hair rippled down to her waist and her fingers cradled a teacup. It had been midwinter, and she would have been so cold. Only when her husband returned did she go back inside with him. He’d watched her for some time, lightly stroking his cock. She was a stunning woman and the idea of conquering her, taking her right under Mamione’s nose, aroused him regularly. Norcross admired her loyalty and commitment to her marriage, despite the humiliation thrown in her face. His own wife had barely given them three years together before she threw in the towel. Carmen only gave up after Mamione’s first month in prison. In her desperation to save him, she had never given Norcross what he wanted, and now the opportunity was gone. Like water through his fingers.

Stacking the photos to one side, he focused on Rocco. Again it was a freeze frame from the station’s CCTV, just before his girlfriend was released by his Detective Inspector. Rocco’s demon dark eyes were looking directly at the camera, and they spoke of nothing but triumph.
Catch me if you can!
he seemed to say. He had to think—there had to be another way to prove himself, to get back what he’d earned. Why should a slimy lawyer who offended Norcross’s very senses be allowed to roam free and helping others as mired in the dirt stay off the streets as well? It was his job, and it wasn’t finished. Not yet. He’d earned his benefits, and no one would take them from him.

There was an off-licence down the road which was open until three in the morning. He’d grab a few more cans of beer, get a takeaway and regroup. Yes, that was a better idea. Tucking his wallet into his jeans pocket and throwing on a jacket with his house keys rattling inside, Norcross left his house in a hazed blur. Had he really drunk that much? He barged into a few late-night revellers and grunted distastefully at them. They laughed. Was that at him? If it was a different time, he’d say something. But he was retired now. Without that shield of the force to protect him, he was naked.
Fucking Mamione,
he thought, his back teeth grinding with fury. On either side of him, two more people knocked into his shoulders. This time, he said something.

BOOK: The Claim
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