Rules of Engagement by Zoe Sharp

Author:Zoe Sharp
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Zoe Sharp
Published: 2013-09-01T00:00:00+00:00

12

Tyrone sat in the hallway outside the boss’s room with elbows on knees and his head sunk. He didn’t like hospitals, never had. Not since his dad anyway. They were places connected with temper and sorrow. No facts, just feelings. Even the smell was enough to set off the memories, none of them good.

His dad had died of bowel cancer when Tyrone was just a kid and it hadn’t been quick. His childhood was stained with long periods spent on chairs like this while his mother sat by his father’s bedside and listened to him rage against the pain and the unfairness of it. It had been a long slow downhill journey with no possibility of reprieve. The old bastard had taken it with ill grace and a large amount of morphine. Just being inside the building was giving Tyrone the jitters.

Being here because of what some thieving sod had done to the boss—that was even worse.

Tyrone’s hands were loosely clasped but every now and again his fingers would tighten, stretching the skin taut across his knuckles.

He wanted to hit someone. Hit them hard and keep hitting them. He’d done his share of fighting as a kid. First on his own account and then for his younger brother and sister. The standard threat of “I’ll set my dad on you!” hadn’t been an option. If you wanted you-and-yours left well alone you had to show them you weren’t an easy target, weren’t to be messed with. Nobody messed with the Douet kids after that.

But this was different. There was nobody to fight, nobody obvious to blame. And he was getting a weird vibe from Kelly like she knew what was going on and was afraid to tell him.

Or maybe it was because he’d given himself away he realised, flushing painfully. That brief contact had been enough to send his pulse bounding into overdrive. In the far recess of his mind he knew Kelly viewed him just as a workmate but that didn’t mean he couldn’t dream. And tonight she’d looked so vulnerable, like she needed someone to protect her for once, not the other way around.

Maybe she thought he couldn’t handle it whatever it was. Tyrone’s hands flexed again. There ain’t much I can’t handle.

Growing up in a tough area had taught him how to handle plenty. The first lesson was spotting trouble at fifty paces. So as soon as the big guy in the leather jacket walked in asking for Ray McCarron’s room Tyrone’s instincts screamed that here was all the trouble he could wish for.

The guy had dark hair and a young-but-old face with a nose that had been broken more than once. He carried himself with an aggressive muscular stance that had Tyrone launching out of his plastic seat. If you think you’ve come to finish what you started mate you gotta get past me first.

Since he started playing football, rugby and ice hockey up at the club in Walthamstow Tyrone had learned to use his size to best advantage.

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