Had it been just him, he’d have stuck the nut in the big lad and then windmilled into the rest of them. He’d still be outnumbered, but seeing their prize asset choking on his own blood would’ve taken some of the fight out of them before he’d thrown his first punch.

That would be all well and good if he was on his own. He could fight freely that way. You didn’t have to think too much when every face and ballsack around you was a target just begging for a fist or the toe of a boot.

As soon as you threw in an ally or someone to be protected, things got more difficult. You had to consider your moves. Coordinate. Keep an eye on them. It cut your effectiveness in half.

So, a headbutt and a punch-up were off the cards, then. Shame. What did that leave?

Not a lot, he realised.

And then, out of nowhere, came the sound of a choir of angels. Technically, it was the wailing of a polis siren, but the effect on Logan’s spirits was much the same. Blue lights shone through the early evening gloom. One car, at least, maybe two.

The bastards behind Logan and Tyler immediately bottled it and set off running, falling over each other as they went barrelling up the path. They splintered when they reached the road, all setting off in different directions like they’d been rehearsing for just this eventuality.

They’d come back, of course, as soon as the polis cars went screaming straight past on route to whatever call they were actually responding to.

Logan had no intention of being there when they did.

“You put your thinking cap on for me, Frankie,” Logan said, raising his voice to be heard over the approaching sirens. He stepped back, ushering Tyler towards the play area’s exit. “And I’ll catch you again soon.”

* * *

Logan pulled away from the tower block before Tyler had managed to clip on his seatbelt. The warning chime reprimanded them as the BMW hung a left at the entrance to the car park, and only shut up when Tyler clunked the belt catch into place.

“Jesus Christ, boss. That was a bit hairy for a minute there,” the DC wheezed. It was the first he’d spoken since they’d left the play area, Logan having urged him to keep his mouth shut until they were safely back in the car.

Just as he’d predicted, when the polis cars had gone tearing away, the opportunistic bastards who’d done a runner came crawling back out from inside garages and behind bins. By then, though, Logan was leading the march back to the Beamer, and nobody was brave or stupid enough to give chase.