she owed it to Billy Black to tell him the truth, but she wasn’t ready to risk that with Jimmy Bond yet. Tell Jimmy Bond, and all the boys would know. She didn’t feel secure enough in her own position at the moment to face that.
‘You heard. I want to know what’s happened. The truth, not some made-up pile of shit.’
‘You’re pushing your luck, Jimmy,’ said Annie flatly.
‘Come off it,’ said Jimmy roughly. ‘I don’t even know you’re a Carter, do I? Oh sure, Jonjo said there’d been a wedding, but he wasn’t there on the day, was he? He said there was a kid too, but it could have been a bastard Bailey, not a Carter at all, for all he or anyone else knew.’
Annie shot to her feet and leaned across the table, eyes glaring.
‘You want to watch your mouth, Jimmy Bond,’ she told him. ‘My daughter’s not a bastard. And Max and I are married. Legal.’
‘That’s what Ruthie thought,’ said Jimmy.
Annie took a breath, tried to calm down. But fuck it. She’d thought that Jimmy would be her ally. She was scared shitless and she needed serious help. But she could see that she wasn’t going to get it from him. No way.
‘That’s in the past,’ she said.
‘What goes around comes around,’ he said, and stood up. He put his meaty fists on the table and leaned in close. Despite herself, Annie found herself leaning back a little. ‘I’ll see you around, maybe,’ he said, his eyes holding hers. ‘When you’re ready to tell me the truth.’
He walked to the door, not looking back.
Annie sat down with a thump. He was going to walk out. Simple as that. Convinced she was lying. Hadn’t Max told her that Jimmy had gypsy roots, that his instincts were always sound? He knew she was lying because she bloody well was lying.
‘Jimmy,’ she said as he placed his hand on the doorknob.
Jimmy half turned and looked at her.
‘All right,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you the truth.’
And so Annie told Jimmy Bond the truth. That there had been a hit. That Jonjo was dead. That Max was dead. That Layla had been snatched. That she had had to come back here to get some cash together and that as yet there had been no word from the kidnappers.
Throughout all this, Jimmy kept quiet. When she’d finished, he pulled out a chair and sat down again, his eyes on her face.
‘You’re telling the truth,’ he said. A statement of fact.
‘Of course I bloody am. But no one else can know about this, Jimmy. No one must know Max is dead. Because if they do…’
Jimmy nodded. If word got out on the streets that Max was gone, rival gangs would start to move in. He understood that perfectly.
‘What if the bastard on the phone spreads the word? No Max, no Jonjo—the manor’s wide open,’ said Annie anxiously.
‘Why should he?’ asked Jimmy. ‘He wants money. Why would he risk not getting his wedge from you by making trouble on the manor?’
Annie looked at him. He had a point. ‘But he’s still got my fucking daughter,’ she said bitterly.
‘Yeah, but he won’t hurt her if he wants the dosh. Listen to what I’m saying. He ain’t interested in the manor or he’d have done you all over. He just wants the money. If any rumours do kick off, we deny everything. And we kill them off at source,’ said Jimmy.
‘How?’
Jimmy gave a twisted smile.
‘Bust a few heads, people start to think twice about opening their mouths,’ he told her. ‘Trust me, nobody’s going to start anything around me. And I’ll be quiet as the grave. I’m Max and Jonjo’s number one, remember?’
As if you’d let me forget it, thought Annie. You arrogant git.
‘I’m placing a lot of trust in you,’ said Annie. ‘More than I’m comfortable with, to be honest, given your connection to Kath and knowing how she feels about me.’
‘Kath won’t know,’ said Jimmy.
‘She mustn’t,’ said Annie. ‘Because if she does, family or not, I’d have to have a word. She starts flapping that big mouth of hers and it’ll be all over the manor before you can say knife. And then we’re fucked.’
‘Kath won’t know. She knows nothing about the business. Never has, never will.’
Annie nodded. This was the way Max had always conducted his business, too. She recognized an echo of truth in Jimmy’s words, because Max’s outlook had been much the same. Keep the wife out of it. Keep her in the dark and feed her shit, then she’d be happy.
But was that a good idea? thought Annie. Because look what had happened now. She was adrift in an ocean full of sharks, and Max was fucking nowhere to be found. She had no funds to speak of—unless she found some double-quick. Things were bad. Hard to see how they could get any worse, really. But she had to hold on, keep her head, because while there was a chance she could save Layla—however slim that chance undoubtedly was—then she would have to tough it out.
‘So how can I help?’ asked Jimmy.
Annie swallowed. ‘I’m going to need to find or raise some money, Jimmy. I don’t know how much yet.’
Jimmy nodded. ‘Max would have some stashed somewhere.’
‘Yeah, but where?’
‘You’ve really no idea?’
‘None,’ said Annie.
‘Then we’ve got a problem.’
We.
Annie felt that we was a small victory. If she had Jimmy Bond onside, she had an important ally. Not a friend. Never a friend. Kath had been dripping her poison into his ear for years, telling him what a cheating bitch Annie was, how she had betrayed her own sister, how her own mother had washed her hands of her. So Jimmy would always regard her with suspicion. But—and it was a big but—she was also Max Carter’s wife.
Or I claim to be, thought Annie soberly. Jimmy was right—she could be lying about all this, up to and including the marriage and the legitimate child. Fair enough, he doubted her. But he had also said we have a problem, so she was a little reassured. If she truly was Annie Carter and not plain old Annie Bailey, his wife’s slag of a cousin, then Jimmy Bond would at least owe her respect.
Annie looked at him in the thickening silence.
‘All suggestions welcome,’ she said hopefully.
Jimmy gave a half-smile and stood up. ‘I’ll think it over,’ he said. ‘See what I can come up with.’
‘What about the clubs? The Palermo? That was always Max’s favourite.
