Sweet Revenge by Kerry J Donovan

Author:Kerry J Donovan [Donovan, Kerry J]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-12-19T00:00:00+00:00

In his bed looking up at the four-poster’s soiled and tattered canopy, Andrew sighed through another chuckle.

He wasn’t a bad man. Most people would probably call him successful—self-made even. Handsome, if a fraction shorter than average and maybe a little thicker around the waist than was good for him. People, the majority, liked him. Hell, why wouldn’t they? He was a likeable guy. Everyone said so. The life and soul of everyone’s party, he worked hard, played harder, and encouraged everyone else to do the same.

No matter what anyone said, Andrew deserved all his past success, and he would deserve all the successes to come. Things turned out right for the Andrew Braemars of this world. Always had, always would.

The true cycle of life.

Andrew was bouncing back using nothing more than his innate cunning and his rapid-quick mind.

Nothing was going to stop him. Nothing. Not Terrance Elphick. Not the Estonian bully boys. No one.

He was too smart for them all. Too quick. Lightning, he was, and tonight would prove it.

To the empty bedroom, he belted out a quick chorus of Gloria Gaynor’s, I Will Survive.

Andrew had a great voice. Perfect pitch. Could have made it as a singer but chose construction instead. Maybe he’d audition for one of those TV talent shows … Then again, why bother? He sang in the shower and at the karaoke bar—to rapturous applause and demands for encores. That was enough for him. No need to spread himself too thin. Music’s loss was the construction industry’s gain. In the good times, there was more money in construction than in music.

He tugged back his shirt sleeve to expose his Ballon Bleu Cartier and checked the time. Thank feck he hadn’t gotten around to pawning the watch. What statement would he make with a Timex or a Casio digital on his wrist?

Seventeen minutes past eight.

Terry wouldn’t arrive for another couple of hours, giving Andrew plenty of time to prepare. He’d enjoy the powder-driven high and be ready for the next part. He’d take the first tranche of cash and add more pressure on the arse-bandit. Slowly and surely, he’d bleed the old fecker dry.

Pretty soon, Pretty-boy Franklyn would call to let Andrew know he was downstairs in the dark—he already had the spare key. He’d be ready and waiting to scare ten bales of crap out of Terry and frogmarch him into the front room for the meet.

After that, all would be right with the world.

So what if things had gone wrong? They’d soon be right again. Tuesday had been a low point, all right. The dickhead Estonians had blown it. If they’d completed their contract, Andrew wouldn’t have had to strong-arm Terry-boy. He didn’t enjoy putting pressure on the elderly and the vulnerable, but that’s the way things worked in Andrew’s world.

There was one more thing in Andrew’s favour. The Estonian hard men would never talk to the cops. No way.

The huge one, Dimitri, would die rather than blab. He’d keep his mouth shut, on pain of death.

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