car when we get to the warehouse; I’m not having you fuck up this job for us.’
‘Don’t try to fucking tell me what to do, Vaughnie, never tell me what to do. Some of these goons might think you’re some big fucking hot shot, but I’m not one of them.’ Connor Jennings sneered at his friend before taking another gulp of the whisky, whilst the other men in the car watched with interest the fall out of their boss and his best friend.
Vaughn was aware of the other men’s eyes on them; usually arguments between him and Connor were kept behind closed doors to help retain the respect from the other men but, as usual, the whisky had made Connor obnoxious.
Some men were able to drink but Connor wasn’t one of them. No drink suited him; vodka made him cry, brandy made him want to entertain the masses and whisky made him sullen and aggressive. The last thing Vaughn needed now was to try to tolerate a pissed-up Connor Jennings.
If anyone else had spoken to Vaughn like that, he would’ve given them a reason to go to the dentist, but this was Connor. He loved him as if he was his own flesh and blood, and in Vaughn’s book that meant never hurting him; even if it meant having to put up with crap he’d never normally put up with.
Vaughn knew the other men were waiting to see what he’d do about the lip he was getting, but they’d have a long wait because he wasn’t going to do anything apart from give Connor a good talking to later in private.
He saw the driver ‘Doc’ Phillips give him a sympathetic raise of his eyebrows. He liked Doc; he was a man that could be trusted and relied upon and he’d used him on a lot of jobs over the past couple of years.
He’d had met Doc when he was on remand for handling stolen goods and Doc was serving five years for supplying morphine. Doc had already been struck off by the medical board a few years earlier for self-medicating on hospital drugs, but that hadn’t lessened his enthusiasm for opium or narcotics in general, though his drug use had never interfered with the jobs he did for him. Vaughn knew Doc was reliable and would never arrive to do any smile and smirk eyeballed up like Connor had.
Arriving at the warehouse, Doc turned into the side yard and turned off the ignition, signalling to the van behind them to do the same. Vaughn could see the tall fenced gates of the warehouse had been left open as arranged and the night lights turned off. He couldn’t see the security guards; another discreet arrangement which his money had bought. It looked like it was going to be an easy job; he hoped it would.
Although the warehouse was a working one, at night it was dark and deserted and the smell of blood from the dead carcasses hung in the air. It was freezing; on the verge of sub-zero; the combination of the harsh winter’s night and the temperature needed to keep the fish and meat cold made it feel unbearable even to Vaughn’s gloved hands.
‘Fuck me, it’ll freeze me bollocks off. This’ll put paid to me having kids.’ Vaughn spoke quietly and grinned whilst gesturing to the other men to follow. They had to be quiet. He didn’t think there was any immediate danger but he still liked to be cautious just in case any of the warehouse staff had decided to grass them up, or worse, the McKenzie brothers had got wind of it.
A few minutes later they were at the back of the warehouse and standing in front of the metal door where the brothers had stashed the heroin. Vaughn turned to the men, his eyes adjusting slightly to the dim night lights of the warehouse which were never turned off.
‘Okay, behind here is our just reward, gentlemen; you know what the plan is. Doc, you go …’ Vaughn stopped and looked around quickly. His senses suddenly became on heightened alert and when he spoke the anxiety in his voice was evident to the men.
‘Where’s Connor?’
The other men gave a quick glance round and a shrug, not wanting to say anything which might make them culpable
‘Don’t try to fucking tell me what to do, Vaughnie, never tell me what to do. Some of these goons might think you’re some big fucking hot shot, but I’m not one of them.’ Connor Jennings sneered at his friend before taking another gulp of the whisky, whilst the other men in the car watched with interest the fall out of their boss and his best friend.
Vaughn was aware of the other men’s eyes on them; usually arguments between him and Connor were kept behind closed doors to help retain the respect from the other men but, as usual, the whisky had made Connor obnoxious.
Some men were able to drink but Connor wasn’t one of them. No drink suited him; vodka made him cry, brandy made him want to entertain the masses and whisky made him sullen and aggressive. The last thing Vaughn needed now was to try to tolerate a pissed-up Connor Jennings.
If anyone else had spoken to Vaughn like that, he would’ve given them a reason to go to the dentist, but this was Connor. He loved him as if he was his own flesh and blood, and in Vaughn’s book that meant never hurting him; even if it meant having to put up with crap he’d never normally put up with.
Vaughn knew the other men were waiting to see what he’d do about the lip he was getting, but they’d have a long wait because he wasn’t going to do anything apart from give Connor a good talking to later in private.
He saw the driver ‘Doc’ Phillips give him a sympathetic raise of his eyebrows. He liked Doc; he was a man that could be trusted and relied upon and he’d used him on a lot of jobs over the past couple of years.
He’d had met Doc when he was on remand for handling stolen goods and Doc was serving five years for supplying morphine. Doc had already been struck off by the medical board a few years earlier for self-medicating on hospital drugs, but that hadn’t lessened his enthusiasm for opium or narcotics in general, though his drug use had never interfered with the jobs he did for him. Vaughn knew Doc was reliable and would never arrive to do any smile and smirk eyeballed up like Connor had.
Arriving at the warehouse, Doc turned into the side yard and turned off the ignition, signalling to the van behind them to do the same. Vaughn could see the tall fenced gates of the warehouse had been left open as arranged and the night lights turned off. He couldn’t see the security guards; another discreet arrangement which his money had bought. It looked like it was going to be an easy job; he hoped it would.
Although the warehouse was a working one, at night it was dark and deserted and the smell of blood from the dead carcasses hung in the air. It was freezing; on the verge of sub-zero; the combination of the harsh winter’s night and the temperature needed to keep the fish and meat cold made it feel unbearable even to Vaughn’s gloved hands.
‘Fuck me, it’ll freeze me bollocks off. This’ll put paid to me having kids.’ Vaughn spoke quietly and grinned whilst gesturing to the other men to follow. They had to be quiet. He didn’t think there was any immediate danger but he still liked to be cautious just in case any of the warehouse staff had decided to grass them up, or worse, the McKenzie brothers had got wind of it.
A few minutes later they were at the back of the warehouse and standing in front of the metal door where the brothers had stashed the heroin. Vaughn turned to the men, his eyes adjusting slightly to the dim night lights of the warehouse which were never turned off.
‘Okay, behind here is our just reward, gentlemen; you know what the plan is. Doc, you go …’ Vaughn stopped and looked around quickly. His senses suddenly became on heightened alert and when he spoke the anxiety in his voice was evident to the men.
‘Where’s Connor?’
The other men gave a quick glance round and a shrug, not wanting to say anything which might make them culpable
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