Ruthless - [46]

himself.

‘I think I need some muscle around me at the moment,’ she said. ‘If that’s OK with you?’

Dolly curled her lip. ‘I suppose it’ll have to be,’ she said. ‘Won’t it.’

‘You got that right,’ said Annie, just as the window exploded inward, showering them with glass and knocking them both to the floor.

42

For long moments all they could do was lie there, the wind completely knocked out of them. They could hear people yelling, out in the street.

‘What the fu-’ said Dolly, crawling to her feet and helping Annie get back to hers. They stared at each other in shock, then looked at the window. It had blown in, but there were still jagged bits of glass clinging to the edges of the frame.

‘You OK?’ asked Annie. She saw that a trickle of blood was winding its way down Dolly’s cheek.

Dolly nodded. ‘Yeah. You?’

‘Doll, you’re bleeding.’ Annie fumbled in her bag, found a tissue, dabbed at Dolly’s face.

Dolly looked in surprise at the blood on the tissue. Then Annie turned and stumbled out of the door, down the stairs. Dolly followed. They threw open the double doors on to a scene of chaos. Smoke, flames, and…

‘That’s my car,’ gasped Annie.

Or at least it had been. All that remained of the Mercedes was a blackened, mangled, smoking heap. Cars around it had caught some of the blast, too. All the windows on the opposite side of the street, where she had parked, had shattered. Glass glittered on the pavement like snow after a winter blizzard.

‘Where’s Tone?’ asked Annie, her heart in her mouth. She’d seen him parked up in the company Jag when she’d arrived. He’d waved at her. Huge, bald and wearing twin gold crosses in his ears, he was an old and trusted friend.

Her ears were humming and she was afraid she was about to pass out.

Delight and Marlena crowded into the door behind them.

‘Oh my God, what happened?’ demanded Delight, eyes wide.

Annie barely heard her. She couldn’t see Tony. She couldn’t see the Jag. Bile rose in her throat. This wasn’t the first time she’d survived an explosion. Terrifying memories came flooding back in all their sick-making, ear-shattering horror. The glass, the sirens, the screaming…

‘Oh Jesus…’ She couldn’t see Tony anywhere.

‘There he is!’ said Dolly, pointing.

Tony was climbing out of the Jag. It was parked halfway down the street, on the other side of the road. His expression was shocked as he stared at the remains of Annie’s car. Then he spotted the women in the club doorway. After a long moment, he closed the car door and walked over.

‘I thought you were parked right next to it,’ said Annie, shuddering and clutching at her chest.

Beneath his usual healthy tan, Tony was looking grey.

‘I was,’ he said. ‘I went to fill up. When I got back, someone had nicked that spot, so I parked further away. You OK, Mrs C?’

Christ will he ever stop calling me that? thought Annie. But she was so very glad to see him, she could have kissed him at that moment. The car that had taken Tony’s slot was a smouldering wreck.

‘I’m fine.’

‘You’ve got glass in your hair,’ he said. ‘And fuck it, look! You’re bleeding, Doll.’

‘It’s nothing, just a scratch,’ said Dolly, dabbing at her face.

Annie brushed tiny shards of glass from her hair. ‘Really. I’m fine. We all are.’

They were silent then, gazing around them at the chaos.

‘D’you think anyone’s been hurt?’ asked Dolly.

‘I can’t see anyone.’

Other people were emerging from buildings, staring at the wreckage in a dazed fashion. Then they heard the sound of sirens approaching.

‘Shit,’ said Annie. ‘That’s all I need, the old Bill on my case.’

‘I think I see some blood there,’ said Dolly, pointing.

Annie felt her stomach turn over. Dolly was right: there was blood on the pavement. Her car had been blown up, and someone must have been standing alongside it when it happened.

‘Well, now you’re definitely going to need Tony and the Jag,’ said Dolly shakily.

Tony turned to Annie. ‘What, you got some bother?’

For a moment Annie felt too overwhelmed to speak.

No, no bother. Turns out this is the deal: someone tried to snatch Layla, then Orla Delaney rose from the dead and tried to knife me in cold blood, and I’m damned sure I was meant to be in my car when that bomb went off. No, Tone, no bother at all.

‘That motor of yours is never going to be the same again,’ said Dolly. ‘I’ve been seeing stuff like this on the TV, you just never think…’ She stopped speaking, shook her head.

‘Stuff like what?’ asked Annie.

‘Like that. Car bombs. It’s been on the news, haven’t you seen it? The IRA. Northern Ireland.’

Now Annie really did feel sick. The sirens were getting louder, people were coming out of shops and offices, milling around, staring, fascinated and horrified at the same time. There was a flicker of flames darting from the broken bonnet of her car. Her eyes were drawn back to the pavement, to the splodge of crimson there. She shuddered and looked at Tony.

‘I’m getting out of here,’ she said. ‘Tone, drive me back to Holland Park, will you?’

‘’Course,’ he said.

Dolly was looking at her like she’d flipped.

‘It’s no good going,’ she said. ‘What am I supposed to say when they come in here asking questions? The Bill will trace you through the registration number anyway.’