Page 41 of Parker

Chapter thirty-two

Parker Fashion House, Glasgow

Joel

“Drayton’s gone rogue,” Boyd says for the second time. I glance at him, then back down at the photos on my desk. “Last seen with four of the club’s guys, heading toward the docks.”

“What’s missing?” I ask, disinterested.

Men always test new leadership. Since I took over, a few have tried and failed to go solo. They’re all at the bottom of the River Clyde. Add enough weight and nothing floats.

“A Ferrari and a Merc. Plates probably changed. No buyers waiting for either. They were excess stock.” I’m only half listening.

All I need to know is that it isn’t detrimental to our plans.

My thoughts are firmly with my ex-wife, and her determination that I let her go.

“Look at this,” Boyd says, stepping behind my desk, cell in hand.

He passes it to me. “Not exactly low profile. Fucking idiots are cruising the city, trying to recruit.”

With eyes in both government and police force payrolls, we have full access to all the CCTV in the city, which is proving extremely handy in tracking down anyone who thinks they can stab me in the back.

It’s also helpful in keeping tabs on my ex-wife. The team has dropped back from Nicky. We maintain most surveillance using the camera system. Boyd convinced me to give her some space. My retreat was reluctant but necessary. I need to know she’s safe. That’s what I tell myself, anyway.

“Boss.” Boyd’s impatience breaks through. I snap back to the present. “What do you want us to do? We need to flex our muscles.”

My silence infuriates him further. “Joel. For fuck’s sake, get your head in the game and out of Nicky’s vagina.”

“Watch your mouth,” I snap, throwing him a furious look. “Bring them in. Let the guys have some fun at the warehouse, then get rid of them.”

But even as the instruction leaves my lips, my thoughts return to Nicky, the one problem in my life unsolvable by force.

Since we slept together on Christmas Eve, I’ve only seen her once, six weeks ago at her mother’s funeral. I insisted on picking Nicky up and taking her there myself. It was a paltry affair, with a handful of people coming to pay their respects.

She sat beside me, staring at her feet as silent tears dribbled down her cheeks. “I feel so guilty,” she admitted. “She died alone at home with no one. It took them weeks to find her. Nobody missed her enough to check.”

She just cried and held my hand. When we reached her apartment, she let go. The space between our fingers ached more than I expected. It felt like someone had blown a hole clear through my chest. The thread of hope I was holding onto disintegrated.

“Thank you for coming with me,” she murmured.

Pulling a tissue from the side pocket of my car, I leaned across and wiped her tears away. “I’ll walk you up.”

She shook her head. “No, Joel. After last time...”

“Last time was magical.” I put a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to mine. They were wide, watery, and filled with pain. All I wanted was to take the pain away. I knew I could, even for one night, if she would let me.

“No,” she said, more firmly. “You can’t come up. We’ll end up in bed. That’s not good for either of us. We can’t keep reopening the wound. Both of us need to move on.”

“Maybe I don’t want to,” I whispered. She looked away and pulled back, her fingers gripping the door handle. It didn’t open.

“Joel, unlock the doors. Let me go.” The words were simple, but they hit me like a train. She needed me to release her, but I wasn't sure I could. "Please," she added.

Without a word, I flicked the unlock button, watching as Nicky climbed out of the car.

My gaze followed her as she disappeared into the shadows of her apartment building.

When the soft light from inside came on, she appeared in the window, her silhouette framed for just a moment before she closed the curtains, shutting me out. The final gut punch.

I should’ve left. I know I should have. But my hands refused to turn the wheel. Instead, I sat in silence, the car’s engine the only sound.