Page 18 of Indie

Someone moaned in the background, light.

“Reckon you can get on with it, Indie, so that I can get on with it?”

“Dunno. Might be enjoying living vicariously through you.”

“You going down Twins’ territory now, Indie? Time you got yourself a good fuck, mate.”

The voice in the background moaned again.

“Aye, aye. I’ll get to the point. I want info on someone.”

“Who?” Fury’s voice was suddenly breathless.

“Don’t you fucking cum while I’m talking to you, ya prick!”

“Then fucking get on with it!”

“He’s called Gaz. Gary.”

“Surname would help.”

“Dunno. Possibly Mills?”

“Gonna need more than that.”

I sighed, frustrated.

“He’s either the husband, or ex-husband of Emmie Mills.”

“And what is she to you?” I could hear the smile on Fury’s face. Fucker.

“My Da’s nurse.”

“Uh, huh? And you want info on her bloke because…”

“Ex bloke,” I’d answered too quickly and now I knew he was smirking at me while fucking whatever flavour of the week he was with. “I dunno whether they are still married. But he’s bad news. And if he’s bad news for her, he’s probably bad news for us.”

“Or you, you mean?”

“Fuck off, Fury, and find me summit.”

The moans in the background grew louder, Fury breathing heavier.

“No. Problem. Mate,” he rasped. “Gotta. Go. Think I’m gonna…”

I shut the call off and stared up at the windows of Emmie’s house. My mind duelling with other thoughts. Thoughts of light apricot hair wrapped around my fist, of those asymmetrical lips on mine, sea-green eyes looking up at me as she lay underneath me. Fuck Fury.

My phone rang in my hand, the vibration making me jolt upright from where I was slumped watching the little house.

“Yeah?” I answered the line of numbers on the screen.

“Mr Carter?” the voice was formal.

“Yeah?”

“It’s Jenny from the hospital.”

My stomach dropped like a hole had opened underneath the car and sucked me through it, dropping into oblivion.