Page 63 of All Mine (The All Mine #1)

Isabella

Isabella moved closer to Nonna, who stood frozen in the doorway, still holding the tray. Gabi looked urgently at her and Isabella could only look back and make a minute shake of her head. She cleared her throat.

‘Sorry,’ Isabella said again. ‘I think there’s been some confusion. I’m going to have to ask you to leave.’

The first man laughed, a spray of his spit misting the air.

‘You don’t give us orders,’ he said, sticking a toothpick in the corner of his mouth.

Nonna laid the tray down on the nearest table and Isabella moved in front of her.

‘The Dougalls give the orders.’

The other man, who had a chest the size of a beer keg, checked his phone.

‘They haven’t received the money yet,’ Barrel Chest said in a wide south London accent.

‘That’s okay,’ Toothpick replied. ‘We’ve got all the time in the world.’

This didn’t make any sense. Isabella looked from one to the other before trying again.

‘Look, I don’t know any Dougalls,’ she said. ‘And I don’t owe anyone any money.’

‘Your husband does, though, love,’ Toothpick said.

‘I don’t have a husband,’ she said, trying her best to keep her voice calm and even, but even she could hear the shake in it. ‘There must be some kind of misunderstanding. I’ll have to ask you to leave. Otherwise, I’ll have to call the police to sort it out.’

Toothpick lunged. For a big man, he was surprisingly fast. He slapped her phone out of her hand with such violence that it smashed on the floor. Nonna gasped. Isabella grasped her sore hand against her chest and shot a glance out the window towards the square, but it was dark and deserted.

‘Obviously your husband hasn’t told you his family secrets,’ Toothpick said. ‘But he and his brother owe a lot of money to the Dougalls. And we’re here to make sure he pays up.’

Barrel kicked the wooden chair beside him at the wall. It splintered into pieces and Gabi ducked reflexively.

‘Please don’t,’ Isabella heard herself say, and then wished she’d kept quiet as it seemed to enrage him more. He turned over the entire table, kicking and stamping on the wooden chairs until they were nothing more than a pile of broken limbs.

In the silence afterwards, she heard his breathing, ragged with the exertion.

‘Anything yet?’ Toothpick asked.

Barrel checked his phone again and gave a mocking thumbs down.

‘Well,’ Toothpick said, ‘I guess we should start claiming interest.’

They looked round the restaurant as if surveying a playground and deciding what fun to have first.

Toothpick walked casually to the largest mirror that hung behind the bar. Gripping it by the top in his two paws, he heaved it from the wall with a roar. It crashed to the dining floor. The aged glass shattered, shards spinning across the floorboards, the frame cracking in two.

Nonna shrieked, Gabi ran to her and Isabella clapped both hands to her face.

But the men didn’t stop. Menus were ripped up and thrown in the air like confetti.

Glasses were dropped one by one on the floor.

Isabella’s chest was pounding, anger raging as she watched them destroy her hard work, but fear held her in place.

If they could do this to property, they could hurt them too.

She glanced at Nonna and saw the pallor of her face. She had to get them out of there.

The men regrouped, panting with their efforts, and Barrel checked his phone again. He shook his head and Toothpick turned to another table.

‘Wait, wait!’ Isabella rushed forward, no idea what she was doing, but unable to stand still and watch the destruction of her dream.

‘You stay right there,’ Toothpick said, stopping her in her tracks with a hard shove on the shoulder and snapping a photo of her on his phone.

‘That might make them pay a bit quicker,’ he said.

‘You’re our insurance.’ With a humourless smile, he flicked his old toothpick to the floor before taking a new one from a pack in his jacket pocket.

She realised they weren’t toothpicks– they were red-headed matches.

He nodded at Barrel and they lunged again, kicking stools, smashing shot glasses, breaking mirrors.

The noise was incredible. Toothpick pulled the bar shelves from the wall and glasses fell like a waterfall to the floor.

Gabi bent Nonna into her chest, protecting her in the corner.

Isabella stood still, alone and exposed in the middle of the dining room.

Her eyes flashed around the room, looking for a weapon or a way out, or something– anything– that might help.

What she spotted was Etienne’s eyes as he peeked through the gap in the kitchen door. Her breath hitched in hope and he put a single finger to his lips. She blinked, too scared to nod. Terrified to draw attention to him. Afraid that someone was going to get seriously hurt.

Barrel paused, out of breath. He had single-handedly destroyed the majority of tables.

Toothpick had focused mainly on accessories. The floor was littered with glasses and pictures that his boot had stamped through. The entire restaurant was like a bomb site. Isabella swallowed a sob and flicked her eyes to Etienne again.

Barrel checked his phone and grinned, showing a gold tooth front right.

‘They’ve got their money,’ he said with a certain amount of satisfaction. ‘Lucky for you.’

Barrel hoicked his jeans up by the belt loops, and stretched, surveying the damage.

‘A job well done,’ he agreed. ‘Now we can claim the rest of the interest.’

He opened the canvas holdall he’d slung to the floor and pulled out some ripped-up rags and a can of petrol. Unscrewing the lid, he took a long hard sniff, eyes closed. Isabella could smell it from where she was. Her eyes watered.

‘Please,’ she gasped. ‘You said it yourself: they have the money.’

‘Your husband and his brother can’t fuck about with the Dougalls, you know,’ Barrel said.

‘I keep telling you I haven’t got a husband.’

‘Your boyfriend then,’ Toothpick said. ‘Etienne Martin.’

Isabella resisted looking at Etienne as she heard his name. It took every ounce of self-control she had to keep her eyes on the two men.

‘Him and his brother can’t keep the Dougalls waiting without expecting to pay the penalty. . .’

Barrel lifted the petrol in front of him and, tauntingly slowly, tilted the bottle until the amber liquid began to pour, splashing on the floorboards.

He then jerked his arm and sent an arc of it over the nearest piles of broken wood.

Isabella surged forward but Toothpick forced her away again, pushing her back towards the other women.

She saw the fury simmering in Gabi’s face, the way she bore her weight on the balls of her feet, her stance ready to spring.

Isabella realised that if she made a move, Gabi would be right there with her.

‘Wait a minute,’ Toothpick said to Barrel, before moving closer to Isabella. She saw something different on his face as he let his eyes linger on her body.

‘Old Man Dougall said she was a looker.’ He swapped his match from one side of his mouth to the other. ‘He wasn’t wrong.’ Barrel grinned again, flashing that gold tooth, before screwing the lid back onto the can of petrol.

‘They’ve got their money,’ he said thoughtfully.

‘And they’ll get their interest paid in ashes.

’ He nodded at the petrol pooling on the floor before slowly removing his box of matches from his jacket pocket.

He shook them, in silent consideration, before tossing the pack to Barrel, who caught them one-handed.

‘I’m thinking I might take me a bonus,’ Toothpick said, his tongue turning the toothpick over and over as he stared at Isabella. ‘And that’s you.’