‘We’ll do it,’ said Ciaran. He looked at Rowan. Rowan was always his wingman, they worked well together. Jeb was too hot-headed to be relied upon in a tight situation, and it was clear his judgement was off where the Everett girl was concerned. He put a heavy hand on Jeb’s shoulder. He was the eldest, he’d sort it out. ‘I never did like that cunt Josh Flynn. Me and Rowan. It’ll be a piece of piss. We’ll set this right, Jeb. Don’t you fret.’

‘I’ll do the job for her, the one she’s phoned about,’ said Jeb, brightening. ‘That way she won’t suspect a thing. Come as a big shock to her when Josh Flynn gets his, and serve the bitch right.’

‘That’s the ticket,’ said Bill, and smiled.

62

62

The illegal bout in Oxford was set up in a big room where wedding receptions and wakes were held, over a public bar. People shoved back the chairs and laid their bets and soon a huge crowd gathered around the edges of the room. Josh faced a big blond-haired man called Don Swatley. He had a broken nose and KILLER tattooed across his huge hairy chest. The referee hit a copper pan with a ladle, and they were off.

The blond came in with a left, and then another, whacking Josh back a step. No one had told Josh the man was also a southpaw. This made things tricky from a defensive viewpoint. Josh flicked back a couple of staccato hard rights, then a piston-hard left flick. But the blond swiped in left-handed again, cracking Josh on the ear so that his head rung like a bell. Josh felt sticky blood flowing there, and thought better wrap this up quick.

The man was more powerful than Josh had expected. Supremely self-confident in his strength and ability, Josh realized he’d become too cocky for his own good. He turned up the heat as the crowd roared louder and louder, throwing out a flurry of vicious lefts to the ribs until the man’s guard dropped. Then he went in further, pulverizing him until he started to weave and sag. A sharp hit to the temple sent the blond crashing to the floor.

The ref stepped forward and counted to ten. The blond didn’t get up. So the ref lifted Josh’s arm in the air and declared Fearless Flynn the winner. Josh stood there, sweat-stained and blood-soaked, and grinned around at the crowd in triumph. And it was then that he saw someone moving at the back of the room, someone he recognized.

63

63

After he’d washed up and claimed his winnings, Josh grabbed his sports bag and went downstairs, looking again for that familiar face. And Rowan Cleaver was right there, drinking scrumpy at the bar. Josh elbowed his way through the crush until he reached him.

‘Thought it was you,’ he said.