Kate knew he was watching her intently, but couldn’t meet his stare. ‘For your entertainment?’

‘You don’t think that’s a good enough reason?’ Swagger slipped an arm casually around her shoulders. It was all Kate could do not to cringe. ‘But, you’re right. This ain’t about bloodlust. Not just about bloodlust, anyway … We got plans. Big plans.’ He grinned nastily. ‘Let me tell you, babe, there’s gonna be some changes coming to this city. Everything’s gonna be up for grabs, and me and my boys are getting a big share.’ Then he looked at her meaningfully and added in a softer voice, ‘Everything we want’s gonna be ours to take.’

Kate pushed a weak smile out of her mouth, but her mind was a whirl. Just what was it that Takapa was planning? Since her mother was here in New York too, chances were she was involved in it somehow. Marcie had been sickeningly impressed with Takapa when they’d met in New Orleans. Whatever, if Swagger wasn’t just shooting his mouth off and Takapa really was coming here sometime soon – with or without her mom in tow – Kate knew she was in mortal danger.

Like that’s anything new, she thought bitterly.

Swagger’s sweaty fingers caressed the side of her neck. She wanted to gag, and thanked God when a sudden clatter echoed out across the arena and he pulled away.

Swagger’s attention was now exclusively fixed on the old rink itself. He rubbed his hands together with childish glee. ‘Here they come.’

Just as Kate was feeling no further tension could be wrung from her body, the sight she saw made every muscle tense up, every nerve jangle. Eric was leading ten people, none of them older than thirty, into the middle of the arena. Their footfalls built from a murmur to a rumble. Some were clutching themselves, either against the cold or with fear. Others walked along vacantly, like this was just some guided tour they were getting.

There were all kinds of people there. Junkie-types, pencil-thin with gaunt faces. Average Joes in jeans and sweaters, staring around glumly in resigned expectation. A couple of muscle-bound types in plaid shirts. And there were two women in the little crowd, looking about edgily: one short-haired and stocky, in denim – and the other a hard-faced blonde with ratted hair, her neck spider-webbed with tattoos.

There was something about the way they looked and moved … Slightly unfocused, jumpy – like they were coming down from taking something.

Eric sorted them roughly into two sides, picking out people and propelling them across the concrete floor to stand together, each group facing the other. The echoes faded as they all stood still as statues, like they were trying to stare each other down in the murky light.

‘You expect them to start fighting?’ Kate whispered. ‘Just like that?’