Free Surefire by Ashe Barker Page A

lounging arrogantly against our cars. A man I recognize as one of Kenny’s vicious mates from way back in Bristol—his broken nose and tattooed face particularly memorable—saunters up behind Kenny, swinging a bicycle chain, his intent obvious. He grins at us, clearly enjoying his day out in Gloucester and convinced it’s about to get a whole lot better.
    I’m starting to get up, ready to try to reason with him even though I know it’s useless. Old habits do die hard, it seems.
    “Kenny isn’t it? How nice. I’d been hoping to run into you again.” Tom has taken over, before I can say anything to Kenny. His voice is mocking, confident. This is my Dom, but more so. This is Tom looking for trouble, real trouble. And no doubt about to find it. Can’t he count? Six, for Christ sake!
    “You have something of mine.” Tom makes no effort to stand up, and his arms around me hold me firmly in place. He fixes Kenny with a warning look, a look I know well but which seems to be lost on my ex-boyfriend. “I’d like my jacket back please.”
    “Who the fuck are you?” Kenny takes a menacing step forward, his loyal troops coming to attention behind him, ready now to have their fun beating up two unarmed men and a weeping girl.
    “We’ll sort this. Stay here,” Tom murmurs his instructions into my ear as he lazily comes to his feet. Nathan too, and they stroll casually down the path to meet Kenny head on.
    “We met a couple of years ago. In Bristol as I recall. You—borrowed—my jacket, and I see you still have it. It definitely looks better on me—you don’t really fill it out. Prison food not especially good for the physique, I expect. And now I want it back.” Tom’s tone is low, hard, chilling. He’s angry, white-hot angry. I’ve heard that tone only once before, that first day in Smithy’s Forge. He means business. But he and Nathan are hopelessly outnumbered. Ever the optimist, I expect they’ll land a few decent punches before it’s all done with. I can’t see them winning this one though, then my immediate future looks distinctly grim. After all, it’s not Tom and Nathan that Kenny’s come here looking for—it’s me.
    Kenny’s lips curls into a sneer. “Looks like you borrowed my shagbag.” He casts a contemptuous nod in my direction, turns back to Tom. “I reckon I got the best of the bargain, but now I’ll be needing the little slag back.”
    He turns his attention to me, his eyes glinting with a mixture of cruelty and something akin to lust, but tinged with violence, greedy and assessing.
    I don’t recall sensing such an aura of menace from him at any time in our previous relationship, but something fundamental has shifted and it’s unmistakable now. Scared, really scared, I shrink backwards. He obviously notices my reaction, and his sneer widens, becomes yet more malevolent as he senses my fear, feeds on it, enjoys it.
    He turns his arrogant attention back to Nathan and Tom, dismissive as he warns them off. “You two can fuck off. Last chance. It’s her we want.” Then, his attention is back to me, “Yeah, you. You treacherous little bitch. You couldn’t keep your fucking mouth shut could you? You grassed us up, I got three fucking years because of you, so you fucking know what’s coming to you…”
    He starts to laugh, turning to his crew to share the joke. He very nearly makes it before Tom’s fist connects with his jaw, sending him spinning backwards into the loving arms of his friend with the bike chain. Then all hell breaks loose. Kenny’s not frankly much use for anything anymore. One decent punch and he’s floored. That leaves just five.
    Just?
    The others are made of sterner stuff, but it soon becomes obvious they’ve miscalculated. Nathan moves like lightning, high kicks and punishing jabs flying everywhere. Nathan the Ninja, wow! And Tom’s something of a bruiser too, fast and lethal and not above fighting a bit dirty when he gets the chance. A fierce kick in