What It Takes: Her best friend could be her worst enemy. A sensational psychological thriller. by Susan Wilkins

Author:Susan Wilkins [Wilkins, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Herkimer Limited
Published: 2024-10-17T00:00:00+00:00

31

Thursday. 9.30pm

The smell of pepperoni and melted cheese fills the small living room. Ewan and Jared are sprawled on the threadbare sofa, pizza box between them, cold beers on the table, eyes fixed on the TV. They’re watching one of the Mission Impossible movies; Ewan loves them, mostly because of all the motorcycle stunts.

On screen, Tom Cruise launches his bike off the roof of a building and lands on the building next door in an impossible stunt.

Bussin’!

‘Can you do that?’ says Jared with a mischievous grin.

Ewan looks at him. ‘One day,’ he says. ‘It’ll be me up there doing movie stunts, then the smile’ll be on the other side of your stupid face.’

Jared laughs and punches the air. ‘You go for it, bro!’

Ewan raises his can of beer. ‘I will.’

Suddenly he gets this rush of warmth. Just hanging with his brother always does the trick. It helps him get back on his game and brush off the crap. And today was crap.

Getting sacked doesn’t bother him; he’ll get another job. What’s nettled him is Trey’s attitude. The whole thing is total bollocks. Ewan feels let down; he thought Trey was one of the good guys. Why would he take the side of some stupid bitch? It just goes to show you never know who you can trust.

But he has his brother.

He holds up his fist. ‘Love you, man.’

Jared bumps it with his. ‘Faggot,’ he says with a chuckle.

There’s a burst of gunfire on screen. Ear splitting, which is why Ewan doesn’t hear the hammering on the front door.

Bang bang bang. He hears it this time.

He huffs. Here we go. This has happened a couple of times since he’s been home; the cops get called because the old man has been found passed out drunk. They bring him home, so it becomes Ewan’s problem. He’s not happy. Why can’t they stick him a cell to sober up?

Putting down his beer can, Ewan pauses the movie with the handset and heads for the front door.

‘He pukes everywhere, you can clear it up this time,’ he says over his shoulder to Jared, who gives him the finger.

The front door shudders with another thump.

‘Yeah, all right. I’m coming,’ mutters Ewan.

He opens the door, but it’s not the boys in blue. Two blokes, black hoodies. Ewan has spent enough time inside to know who and what they are.

The one at the front, larger and older, eyeballs him.

‘Ewan?’ he says.

‘Depends who’s asking.’

‘Just want a quick chat. Can we come in?’

Ewan answers by slamming the door in their faces. He scoots back to the kitchen, wrenches open a drawer and pulls out a sharp little boning knife. He waits.

They take two goes to boot the door in. It collapses inwards, hinges broken, lock twisted and gouging half the wood from the doorjamb. It always was a crappy door. Ewan’s been meaning to get it fixed.

The big one appears in the hallway, baseball bat in hand. He’s built like a heavyweight boxer, grey hair slicked right back, large eagle tattoo on his neck.

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