Loving Daniel (MC Securities Book 3) Page 3

  Christian nodded. He recalled the conversation vividly. Recalled the sense of anticipation. Excitement. “Yep.”

  “And?”

  “All debts are now cleared.”

  Finlay narrowed his eyes. “What did you do?”

  Christian looked at him. Finlay wasn’t stupid.

  “Ah.”

  “Yeah. Ah.” Christian scrubbed his face with his hands. The full stupidity of having sex with Daniel hit him anew. Stupid because he knew why every fucking relationship he’d ever had had gone down the pan. Knew why he’d never fallen in love. Never settled.

  He propped his chin in his hand and stared out of the window.

  “Is he as involved as his father was?”

  Christian shrugged, chin still in hand.

  Finlay scratched the back of his neck. “Don’t suppose they call him the ‘banker’ for nothing?”

  Christian shook his head. He really didn’t know. Didn’t want to know.

  5

  Daniel drove up to his house as the massive, ugly, electronic gates closed slowly behind him. The tyres of the Jag crunched gently over the gravel as he pulled up. He sat for a moment and looked at the Cheshire mansion, complete with Doric columns. All built two years ago. The one with the big fat For Sale sign, or it would have, had the agent not deemed it common. He hated the fucking place. All hollow, echoing marble, beige, and chrome. It was the single most un-homely space he’d ever lived in. He tried not to compare it to the stylish warmth of Christian’s home. The only thing it had going for it was its wide-open space. He presumed there was a way to make it feel homelier, but he’d never had the time or the inclination to make it so.

  He opened the front door and dropped the keys on the sideboard. The noise echoed. The massive entrance hall never ceased to amaze him. Double story, with a huge central staircase rising to balconies…like something out of a fifties film where Ava Gardner would swan down in a clinging, sparking gown. Andrew had liked it though. But then, Andrew just liked spending his money.

  His dress shoes echoed on the polished, tiled floor as he headed for the kitchen. It was so big, it was stupid. Not a single thing was out of place, everything matched. He switched on the coffee machine and stuck a mug under it. Andrew had chosen the mugs. He sighed. He should feel sorrier that it was all over, but he didn’t. Couldn’t.

  He refused to think about Christian, ignoring the fact that the cracks had started appearing in his relationship—if you could call it that—with Andrew, when Christian had got in touch with him and asked him to look at Geoff Bryce’s activities last Christmas. Bryce had once worked for his father, but they’d parted company because he was a complete shitbag. Too big a shitbag even for Kenneth. However, Bryce wasn’t above using the McCafferty name to terrify people into paying massive, made-up debts.

  Christian’s business partner had been stung, so he’d sorted it for him. Astonished that Christian would actually ask him for help, he’d done it without thinking. But in the doing, memories had started leaking back into his consciousness. Bryce reared his ugly face again a couple of months back, caught grooming the son of one of Christian’s clients. Christian asked him for help again, and he’d stepped in. It had opened the floodgates and reminded him why every relationship he’d ever had had fizzled out, leaving him stone cold.

  Christian. Well, and the fact that he was shit at any kind of relationship.

  He closed his eyes and could see him…and those eyes. Christian’s eyes were like nothing he’d ever seen before. They were a beautiful mix of blues and greens. But it wasn’t really the colour on its own, it was the way that he looked at Daniel as though he was the most wonderful person in his life. Like he was his saviour. When in fact, it was Christian who’d been his savour.

  The machine stopped hissing and spitting, so he took the mug and dumped a load of cream in it. Christian took his black, but Daniel liked the luxurious taste of coffee with cream. Christian used to tease that he had cream with coffee in it. He wasn’t far wrong. He took a mouthful and headed for the snug. It was the only room, apart from his study, he could bear to be in on his own. Marginally smaller than the rest of the place, he’d thrown out the fancy furniture and put in black leather sofas, a massive TV, games console, music system, and bookshelves. What else did a man need. He slumped on his favourite sofa and pulled out his phone. It was a massive list of messages, missed calls, social media notifications. He threw it beside him.

  The house was so fucking lonely.

  He lay back against the cushions and closed his eyes as the events of the day crowded in. If there was any way he’d have wanted to spend the day of his father’s funeral, it would have been holding Christian. When he’d appeared by his side like some damned genie he’d conjured up… well. When he’d agreed to go back to his house for sex? Daniel’s chest pinched at the thought. He owed him big style for that. It was the one thing that had got him through the day. He settled himself more comfortably and closed his eyes, trying to take himself back to the afternoon. To Christian’s flat. The feel of him, the scent of his skin, and the feeling of deep peace that he had just holding him. He tried to re-create that feeling, but it didn’t last.

  He finished the last of the coffee and headed for the bathroom. He needed a shower, and then to hit either the gym or the backlog of work waiting for him and lose himself until he could fall asleep.

  Standing under the shower, he let the water stream down over his head and his face. He wondered if things would ever be the same again. His father was gone, and he’d fucked Christian. His chest felt heavy. When his eyes burned, and his throat closed up, he wasn’t sure if it was relief that he was free of Kenneth, grief that he was dead, or grief that he’d never fuck Christian again.

  Because if he did, he’d have to tell him.

  Or the realisation that his life was such a fucking fucked-up mess. He leaned back against the tiles, feeling the cold against his arse, between his shoulders. He would not cry. The last time he’d cried was the day he walked out on Christian. His father would have beaten him black and blue if he caught him crying. That and flung every name under the sun at him. As usual.

  He moved and stood under the shower, closing his eyes, swallowing hard. “Fucking fairy,” he muttered. He was nothing if not his father’s son.

  He stood there a long time, water streaming over his face, until it was safe to get out. He dried himself and threw on some old sweats, grabbed his overfull leather workbag and lugged it to the study. He’d just got his papers sorted, and pulled up the right spreadsheet, when his phone rang. He looked at it.

  His Aunty Janet.

  Baffled, he answered.

  “Hello?”

  “Are you in, love?”

  “In?”

  “In. At home.”

  He frowned. “I’m in the Cheshire house.”

  “Good. Be a love and open the gates then.”

  “What?”

  “Open the gates. We’re outside.”

  What the fuck? He shook his head. “Hang on.” He jogged downstairs and went to open the gate from the kitchen control panel. It could be done from his phone, but he’d not quite worked out how.

  Moments later, his uncle and aunt got out of the car and Daniel groaned aloud.

  “Hello, love.” His aunt went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I know we said we’d come for tea next week, but I couldn’t bear thinking about you all alone, so in the meantime, we’ve brought you a pressy.”

  He stared at his uncle, who was holding what looked terrifyingly like an animal carrier. His uncle shrugged.

  “Come in.”

  His uncle hefted the carrier into the kitchen, and his aunt went to drag more items from the boot of the car. Daniel watched helplessly. He knew what was in the bloody carrier. His aunt ran the local Cat’s Protection League.

  He took some of the things off her and as she hurried into the kitchen, and closed the door on a sigh.

  “I’ve brought someone for you,” she sai
d, depositing all the paraphernalia on the floor.

  “Janet...”

  “Aunty to you. You’re not too big to call me aunty.”

  “Aunty Janet. What…”

  “Let me introduce you. Shh.”

  His uncle smiled the kind of smile that said, ‘Just go with it, son. It’ll be less painful in the end.’

  Janet opened the door and made soft sounds. She stood back and eventually a smallish cat ventured out. It was ridiculously fluffy and a sort of greyish marbled colour with white patches on its face. It sniffed the air.

  “There you go, darling. This is your new home.”

  Daniel opened his mouth but shut it again.

  “This,” she said, tickling the cat behind its ear, “is Mavis.”

  His uncle turned away at this point, leaving Daniel open-mouthed. “Mavis?”

  “I know. Her owner was an old lady. She loved watching Coronation Street, so she called her Mavis.”

  He went to speak, but his aunt shushed him and mouthed, ‘passed away’ as though the cat might hear.

  “So, you rescued her?”

  “Clever boy. Knew you’d cotton on. Here’s poor little Mavis with no-one to love her, and there’s you. All on your own.” She shrugged and grinned. “Perfect.”

  Daniel opened his mouth, but then let out a sigh and put his hands on his hips.

  “Come on.” She cajoled with a grin. “You’ve always loved my moggies.”

  It was true. He’d loved going to visit his aunt when he was young because there were always loads of cats to play with. He looked at her, smiled, and caved.

  “Go on then.”

  She laughed and hugged him. “Now then, this is the food, this is the litter tray, this is…”

  Daniel scratched the back of his neck and watched as she lay all the stuff out on the kitchen counter. Mavis picked her way through all the debris and came to where he stood. She sat beside him and started to wash herself.

  “Aw, look. She likes you already!” His aunt was beaming from ear to ear. His uncle just smiled.

  6

  A couple of days after the funeral Daniel went to his father’s offices. All his people greeted him cordially, but as he went into the room from where Kenneth had run his empire, a chill slid down his spine. He’d had the offices for years. It was Victorian in origin, part of the old area of Manchester, and felt like a throwback to another era. The room was large, oak panelled, and looked to Daniel more like a government minister’s office than a Manchester crook’s. His father placed a lot of store by impressions. It was a long way from the clubs he’d started with in Manchester, and now his empire extended all over the place. The office was only part of it. His father’s world. The one that had nearly killed him.

  He walked around, running his hand over surfaces. Everything had been passed to the solicitor. Daniel had spoken with Kenneth’s accountant, and it would take a while to untangle his business interests. The accountant was a family ‘friend’, as was the solicitor. Daniel read that as a euphemism for the fact that they knew the score.

  He stood in front of his father’s desk and looked at the tall, leather chair neatly pushed under. The chair his father had sat in. He shuddered and blinked away the memories, walked around the desk, pulled out the chair, and sat in it.

  “Trying it for size?”

  Daniel looked up. Eric Daly stood in the door. If this were a movie, he’d have a gun holstered beneath his sharp looking suit, a fedora tipped over one eye, and a smoking cigarette in one hand. In fairness, he probably did have a gun.

  “Eric. You never know.”

  Eric sauntered into the room, regarding him with watchful brown eyes. “I might be in the market for a finance man.”

  “Really.”

  “Having seen what you did with Kenneth’s finances, I imagine the McCafferty Banker will be sought after.”

  Daniel raised an eyebrow, propped his elbows on the desk, and linked his fingers in front of him. “I’m good at what I do.”

  “Above board too.”

  “Of course.”

  Daly looked around.

  “You wanted to talk to me about Bryce?”

  Daly turned his gaze back to Daniel and smiled. “I did.”

  Daniel gestured to the chair in front of the desk, and Daly sat, crossing one long, elegant leg over the other. He spent some time smoothing the crease of his neatly pressed trousers. Daniel simply waited.

  “He used to work for you and your father.”

  Daniel nodded.”

  “Why did you let him go?”

  “My father didn’t trust him. I would concur.”

  Daly nodded. “I’d be inclined to agree with you on that. Rumour has it, that you… ah, shall we say, clipped his wings a couple of times last year? He certainly seemed pissed off at the funeral.”

  “And?”

  Daly thought for a moment. “He seems to be attempting to move from small scale extortion and running with the drugs gangs into something more substantial. More significant. He’s upset some important people.”

  “You included?”

  Daly smiled. “Me included.”

  “Well, he’s certainly pissed me off lately. “

  “He doesn’t have your, ah backing then?”

  Daniel’s eyes widened. “Christ, no. Though he has in the past claimed it.”

  Eric smiled and nodded. “Ah. That explains a lot.”

  “He’s doing it again?”

  Daly gave him a knowing smile. “Nothing to worry about. He’s being very foolish. He owes a lot of money to a lot of people. People become foolish when cornered.” He steepled his fingers and tapped on his lips. “Are you taking over?”

  Like hell. Daniel shrugged. “I’m…deciding.”

  Daly smiled. “Whatever you decide, we should talk more. You’ll find me a good man to have on your side.”

  “I’ll bear it in mind.”

  Daly stood and buttoned his jacket. “Thank you for your time.”

  “That’s it?” Daniel was surprised. He’d expected something more.

  “That’s it. For now. I needed to check he wasn’t under your protection. Like I said, I’m being courteous.” Daly smiled, and there were clearly more questions in his eyes, but he didn’t ask them. Instead, he dropped a card on the desk. “Contact me if you need anything.” He nodded and left.

  Daniel picked the card up and turned it over in his hands. He put it in his wallet as the door opened again. This time, Larry Conroy peered around the door.

  “There you are.”

  “Indeed.”

  “What did Daly want?”

  “Not sure. Seemed to be checking whether or not I would be taking over Kenneth’s interests.”

  “Are you?” Larry seemed surprised.

  “Like hell.”

  Larry nodded. “I thought not. You’ll need to see what he’s left to whom. There will be appointments that need making though. Interim stuff.”

  “Well, he’s got business managers all over the place. They can deal with it.”

  “Yes, but without Kenneth at the top, it will be a fucking free for all. You can’t just leave them to it, they’ll kill each other.”

  “And you think I care?”

  “I know you didn’t care about Kenneth, but a lot of people depended on him for their livelihood. You can’t abandon them all to the sharks your dad employed.”

  Daniel closed his eyes. He didn’t need this. “I cannot possibly be responsible for what happens. I have my own businesses to run and my own life to live. If it needs someone in the interim, then you step in.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously. You are the only person that I know well enough, the only person that knows the set-up well enough, and I really, really don’t care what you do with it.”

  Larry sighed and gave him a sympathetic look. “I know. I know. But I’m not sure I’m the right person for it.”

  “You are the right person for the moment, Larry. I
’d consider it a personal favour if you would step into the breach. At least for now.”

  They were silent for a moment. Kenneth McCafferty’s passing would leave a great gaping hole in the world in which he lived, and there were any number of shitheads poised to fill it. The question was, did he need to care? He’d long since abandoned Kenneth to the cesspit of his life, but he wasn’t stupid enough to imagine that there wouldn’t be some who thought they could have a go now there was no Kenneth to back things up. He smiled to himself. If they did, they’d find out he was more of his father’s son than they realised. Ruthlessness was an easy commodity when dealing with scum. He fingered the black and metal plug in his ear.

  “It’s going to be messy.”

  Larry nodded. “Afraid so. You might be better off down in London.”

  Daniel was certain he would. Kenneth’s business interests were wide ranging. He’d moved much of it into legit stuff over the past few years and disentangling it was going to be hellish. He’d moved away from the straight forward drugs, money lending, and protection rackets as the landscape had shifted in Manchester, and as Daniel had demanded more of a say in where the money went and where it came from. The upshot was a massive fucking nightmare.

  “Do you know how much he left yet?” Larry said.

  Daniel shook his head and rubbed his temple. “Thursday. Meeting with his solicitor to read the will and start going through all the assets and stuff. I imagine it will take some time.”

  “At least he made one.”

  “I’m not banking on anything. I doubt he left anything to me. If he did, I’ll put it to good use. If he didn’t, well, I’ve lost nothing.”

  Larry sat on the chair opposite him. He looked uncertain.

  “What?”

  “Have you had any contact from Geoff Bryce.”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. Bryce again.

  “He cornered me at the funeral. Wanted to talk business.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “I told him our business concluded a couple of months ago. After the Travis Baker mess.”