Numbed by the event, she hurriedly did as he told her. He wasted no time in pulling away. Once again, Kendall looked behind her and this time there were a few customers peering out from inside the pub. She guessed they had stayed there while the fight ensued; it was none of their business. She knew then her father was a very dangerous man. Controlling her breathing, she wanted to appear unfazed; really, though, the experience had left her traumatized. She could have laughed out loud with hysteria, but, again, her veil of silence was her best form of protection. Like her, her father said nothing; instead, he drove like a bat out of hell until, finally, they were on a main road, heading for God knows where.

She wasn’t going to be the one who broke the silence. This was a world so far removed from her own, but, strangely, as the shock wore off, she felt an inner excitement. Her father, a hard-core gangster, it was laughable until she realized that what she’d seen had been anything but a laugh. In fact, if the truth be known, it had been terrifying. But she’d been an essential part of that. If she hadn’t been there for her father, he could have been seriously hurt or worse. She may have just saved her father’s life, so she wondered how he would regard her now. Surely, he would have some respect for her, wouldn’t he? She really wasn’t sure what to think.

‘You’ve been searching through my motor, haven’t you?’ he asked her coldly.

She hadn’t expected that! ‘Lucky I fucking did, ’cos I think I saved your life.’

A laugh escaped from his mouth and he said with an evil grin, ‘It would take more than those pair of mugs to kill me. I’ve pushed bigger cunts than that out of the way to get to a fight.’

Those words chilled her bones. She knew then he was capable of far worse, and her illusion of being his hero was immediately shot down, but she wanted some acknowledgement – at least a verbal pat on the back – for her timely rescue act. Yet the look on her father’s face told her she had as much chance as a snowball in hell.

‘But—’

‘Next time, do as you’re told. Any more sauce, and you can get out and walk home!’

‘But, I’m not a kid,’ she replied, now hurt by what she saw as a patronizing remark.

‘You are when you’re in my company. Got it?’

‘Where are we going?’ she asked, deciding to change the subject.