My Kind of Justice: How Far Would You Go For Justice (D.I. Jack Striker Book 1) Read Free Page A

on the interior light. Wozza’s sobbing had reduced to sniffles. Ged stared ahead like a child in a war zone. Jack slowly turned round and saw the motionless Lenny. The back seat and footwell were soaked in blood, Lenny’s hair matted carmine.
    “Is he… still breathing?” asked Jack, struggling to comprehend the situation.
    Ged was holding his cousin’s hand. “Think I can feel a pulse. Aw… fuck… Len… What have we done? What are we gonna do now?”
    Wozza looked forlorn, clearly in a state of shock, red dots sprayed across his face interspersing his freckles. Jack turned to the brooding DJ, who hadn’t said a word for five minutes, congealed blood from his misshapen nose covering half his face. “We really need to drop Lenny at the hospital. What do you reckon, DJ?”
    “I’m a dead man.”
    “What?”
    “I said I’m a dead man.”
    Jack couldn’t believe it. “Forget you , DJ. Let’s sort Lenny first.”
    DJ pivoted, mad-eyed. “Fancy yer chances, Striker?”
    “What are you on about? Lenny’s dying here, you selfish prick. You and your bleedin’ ‘master-plan’.”
    DJ lunged for Jack, who instinctively swerved his upper body sideways. He gave DJ a swift uppercut, rocking the car. DJ cried out, his weakened nose exploding again. As he swung a retaliatory punch at Jack, Ged leaned forward, blocking it with his sturdy arms.
    “Enough! Let’s sort Lenny… Now!” Due to his size, when Ged raised his voice people tended to listen.
    Jack’s gaze was fixed on DJ, whose posture appeared to slump as he began his gazing into space routine again. “Right, DJ, you with us on this?”
    An imperceptible nod, then he seemed to snap out of his self-absorbed trance. “Yeah, sorry, lads.”
    After all putting their hoods up, they headed for Bullsmead General Hospital two miles south. Jack prayed they didn’t pass a police car; Ged prayed his cousin would live. Such was the state of the battered Escort, they’d stand out more than a bride at a funeral.
    Jack avoided the main roads as best he could, opting for the side streets, the odd stare from pedestrians making him crouch in the seat. Lenny lolled with each turn, Ged and Wozza whimpering throughout.
    They soon reached the brightly lit accident and emergency department, Jack pulling up beside an ambulance. A paramedic was having a sly cigarette beside it, acutely aware of the nicotine’s damage capabilities, but clearly enjoying it as he puffed away.
    “Ease him onto the floor, Ged, from your side.”
    “Aw… Jack…”
    “Do it!”
    Ged kissed Lenny on the forehead. He opened the back door and slid him out as gently as he could. “Soz, our Len.”
    The door still half open, Jack accelerated, purposely wheel-spinning, then sped off with his hand on the horn for a few seconds. He caught a snapshot of the startled paramedic looking over. In one movement the medic stubbed out his cig and headed for the prostrate Lenny.
    Jack cringed as they left the hospital grounds, passing a police panda car entering. Luckily the lone driver seemed preoccupied enough to miss them flash by.
    Soon they were under the gloomy arches of the disused Bullsmead railway station. After exiting the Escort, DJ retrieved a petrol canister that he had filled earlier, from behind a bush. Once all the lads were clear he expertly tossed a burning rag onto the petrol-doused vehicle. Within seconds, a whoosh of flames illuminated the area, as if the devil had turned the lights on to grass them up to God. They all ran like hell into the depths of darkness.
    Ten minutes later, they collapsed against the inside of the decrepit wall surrounding Bullsmead Park, the ground damp and cold underneath them. They breathed heavily in unison, unable to speak for a minute or two. The dark expanse of the park before them revealed no footpaths leading out, only the void of the vast field surrounded by misshapen trees swaying and creaking eerily.
    “Do you think… he’ll survive?” asked Ged,