Fury - Page 77

I turned in the direction, to where two women now stood, the blonde in the navy suit and baby blue shirt, just like the first time I had seen her, watching me quietly, the faint offering of a smile. My heart leapt like it had been restarted.

Chapter Thirty Five

The King’s clubhouse was quiet. Hardly a sign of anybody there. The lights were off downstairs, nothing parked outside, only a sole van and a big black stain up the wall. It looked fresh, and it smelt like stale smoke. I walked closer. It had been a fire. A big one. Rubber had melted into the dolomite, shards of glass and blackened ground where fuel had burned.

“You want me to wait a minute?” the driver of the taxi asked. “Doesn’t look like there’s anyone here?”

“Yeah please. Just give me a few minutes.”

I pushed on the door at the front of the building, nothing giving way. The doors locked shut. Not budging. I knocked, then stood waiting, then staring up at the windows for any sign of life. But the pub was as quiet as I’d ever seen it. Not a light, not a breath. I signalled to the taxi driver and then wandered around the side, to where the big fire stain was on the side, licking all the way up to the roof. Carefully, I tiptoed over the debris. Over wire and glass and scarred ground.

There was a door at the back, and a van parked beside it. But that was locked, too. Above me, there were lights in the windows and shadows of someone moving inside. There was someone home. I knocked hard; the sound ringing out into the air around me, but still no one came. So, I knocked again, and again.

Eventually I heard footsteps. Heavy, pissed off footsteps. The door was yanked open, the wood almost tearing in the frame from where it was dragged inwards. The grey-haired man was angry at first, his grey brows pulled together, the muscles in his arms, covered entirely by colourful tattoos, tense. But then he softened to almost resignation.

“Heidi?” He greeted me. “What are you doing here?”

“Is Fury here? I’m looking for Fury.”

“He’s not here Heidi. He’ll be at his mams.”

“Oh,” I replied, trying not to get disheartened. “Can you give me an address?”

Indie looked at me for a moment, as if his eyes scanned for my intentions and he was satisfied with what he’d seen.

“Yeah, course.”

The taxi was still waiting for me at the front of the building, the middle-aged man looking at me in sympathy as I climbed back into the seat behind him.

“I’m sorry,” I started. “Can you take me to this address here?” I asked, passing him the piece of paper Indie had scribbled Mamma Dot’s address on for me.

The street was the best in the neighbourhood, but the neighbourhood was a dive. Rows of terraced houses, two ups and two downs, morphing into lines upon lines of Victorian Terraces. The house we were looking for was almost at the bottom of the street. This time, when he pulled the car to a stop at the curb, I handed him the money.

“You need me to wait a moment?” He asked again.

“No. Thank you. Think I’ll be alright now.”

At least I wasn’t in the middle of nowhere this time, a main road only a short walk up the bank. I paused outside the door, teetering for a moment at the very top of the steps, not sure whether I should really do this. It had been months since I’d last seen him. Months since I’d just upped and left. I’d never attempted to get in contact with him, burying my thoughts into work.

I swallowed slowly, moving my hand towards the door, to where the doorbell sat attached to the side. Despite that, I didn’t press it, just waiting a little longer until I could either get on with it or go home. I pushed against the black button, the doorbell ringing loudly from inside.

It took a little while before the door opened and the face of the woman that was so very much like him, just smaller and squatter and female, opened the door. She stared a moment, and at first, I didn’t think she recognised me.

“Heidi?” she asked.

“Hi. Is Fury here? I’m looking for Fury.”

The woman frowned and then she sighed, tilting her head and pushing the door wide enough for me to step into the hallway. Then she tipped her head and beckoned for me to follow. No more words exchanged. I followed quietly, my heart thumping low and deep in my chest. Not quite fear, but worry. Worry he’d tell me to fuck off. Worry he’d moved on.

I could smell the home-cooked food before I even set foot in the kitchen. The thick, rich scent filling the air, making my mouth water and my stomach growl. The kitchen was crammed with bodies. Magnet and Demon, the twins, a man I recognised but didn’t know, and the dark hair of Fury which fell down his back, the muscles in his arms bulging out the black t-shirt. He turned, his eyes sharpening as he recognised me, but he said nothing. Just stared.

The room hushed to a silence. Every fork stalled, every mouth slowing, all eyes on me, sweat prickling uncomfortably on the palms of my hands. The heart that had been thumping heavily in my chest seem to stop entirely. And Fury’s face did nothing but stare. I couldn’t read the emotions, other than the initial surprise, and then his eyes darkened, his lips pulling straight, no hint of a smile, no hint of a frown. Absolutely nothing.

“Fury,” I started, shifting from one high heel to the other uncomfortably.

My eyes flicked around the table again. To the audience of bikers watching me, then Fury and back to me. And beside him sat a woman with long raven hair and those big dark eyes. I recognised her from the clubhouse, could still see how he wrapped those big arms around her and pulled her off her feet and I felt the same stab of jealousy I’d felt then, only this time it was amplified a hundred times. He’d moved on.

“Heidi,” he said, breaking the silence which seemed to have lasted hours. “What are you doing here? Is everything ok?”