As he hung up to wait for Grey’s response, Jett heard the first whoosh of a car, which reminded him there were other people in the world – not just the Barbaranis and the La Marcas. There was another life out there. He’d just forgotten. He closed his eyes, door still open. Grey’s text could take a while ...
Something moved in the bushes around the edges of the car park. Blood pounded in his ears. He sat back up. ‘Who’s there? I can ...Razor?’
Razor stumbled out of the shrubbery, his white coat filthy with forest debris. ‘What are you ... how did you get out? Here, boy, come here.’
They were miles away from the property. How had Razor found him? How had he made it all this way? Unless ... had Jett been so distracted that he’d left the garage open? Had Razor been in the back of the ute the whole time? Or was this Raphael too?
‘Here, boy.’ Jett bent down, arm extended.
But Razor wouldn’t move, holding his dirty front paw inches above the ground. ‘What’s wrong, boy?’ Jett knelt beside Razor, hot, panting dog breath in his ear. He couldn’t quell the feeling he and Razor weren’t alone, that someone was watching ...
‘Shit!’
Razor snarled as Jett touched his paw. What he’d thought was dirt was dark blood, pooling from a deep gash down Razor’s leg.
An animal couldn’t have done that. It was too precise, too straight.
‘It’s all right, boy, you’re okay.’
It was not all right. The blood was still streaming. Jett ripped off his shirt and wrapped it tight around the wound, then laid Razor across the backseat.
‘It’s okay, boy, hold on – just turning the key now. Hold on.’
The ute wheezed. He twisted the key again, punching the clutch hard enough to break a hole in the bottom of the car.
‘Fuck!FUCK!’ The car wouldn’t start. The car always started. It never broke down – he kept all the cars in excellent health. But he’d been distracted lately. Had he missed something?
He popped the bonnet. He didn’t have time to mess around –Razordidn’t have time. They were an hour and a half’s walk away from Eliza’s clinic. He wouldn’t be able to carry Razor, and that wound needed more than a shitty T-shirt tourniquet.
He checked his phone again. Still no text from Grey.
He opened Google Maps.Dammit.The only person he knew who lived in this part of town was the one person he couldn’t ask a favour from. Even asking for assistance with animal medical aid would be considered symptomatic of Fuck Boi-itis. He couldn’t do that to Daisy. He wasn’t that person.
DING!
Grey’s text came through and the whole world stopped. His vision blurred. Razor slumped against him.
Fuck. Focus, Randall.
If what Grey had just texted was true, then Daisy was in danger too – anyone who’d been in that office was. He had to warn her. Tell her to run – to go to her mum’s or a friend’s in Perth. Just get away from Nella Barbarani. Even if that advice made him the biggest hypocrite in the southern hemisphere, he couldn’t let Daisy’s name be added to the list.Clarkson, Hazel, Ariana, Razor, maybe Tom.Because if Daisy was hurt, it would be entirely, completely, wholly, his fault.
He cradled Razor’s head as he flicked through his contacts, praying his dog wasn’t going to die because Daisy refused to answer his call. Because of what working for the Barbaranis had done to him, had turned him into – the kind of guy who breaks it off with a perfectly nice woman because he can’t stop fucking his friend in his head.
Razor was not going to die because of what Nella had done to him.
The phone rang. And rang. And rang.
36
Nella
‘Before we go in, I require a private moment with Signore La Marca,’ Nella said.
The La Marcas’ lawyer was Riccardo Costa, a tanned, silver-haired beanpole who looked like an elf fromThe Lord of the Rings. Nella had never had a high-profile enough case to be pitted against him, but Pearl had. Before she’d hung up her law degree in favour of answering Nella’s phone and filing her paperwork, Pearl had been the defence attorney for every member of WA’s most notorious bikie gang. Thinking of the older woman shocked Nella back to the voicemail she’d left her after Ian’s arrest.
They’ve got the belt, Pearl had said.The belt around Clarkson’s neck was Ian’s – it’s got his DNA, and he even told the cops it was missing from his bag when he came back to get it. I was wrong, Pet, he got changed for the gym at work and he left his bag of work clothes behind – he was telling the truth. But he didn’t mention the missing belt at the time because he felt like it was his fault – like if he hadn’t left the bag ... Anyway, I’ll call you when I know anything else. Don’t worry about us, you focus on your own case.
Pearl was Ian’s best chance. Nella had to let go and focus on this nightmare instead.
