Unfinished Business Read Free Page B

anything. All they’ll say is he’s entitled to park on the front street. Where’s the bloody door key?” he snapped before he spotted it on the hallway table. He shoved his feet into a pair of trainers, pulled the door open and rushed outside.
    Sarah was momentarily delayed as she fumbled getting her feet into a pair of slippers, her hands shaking, then followed him out.
    Mark paused halfway down the drive. “Get back inside Sarah.”
    “No,” she retorted, clutching her mobile phone to her chest, ready to dial nine nine nine should the stranger prove to be dangerous.
    “Wait there then,” he told her as he stormed through the gates and up to the car.
    Sarah’s heart was in her mouth as the car door opened and out climbed a tall, well built man in a rumpled leather jacket and blue denim jeans. He was older than Sarah had assumed from her shadowy glimpse of him the previous night - mid forties, a full head of black hair, a streak of grey at both temples, strong, attractive features. His eyes were unusual, almost amber, the colour of malt whisky and those same eyes danced with amusement as Mark strode up to him in a cloud of bluster and outrage. Despite the stranger’s pleasing exterior Sarah sensed he was a man not to be crossed, although he was far from the lunatic she’d imagined. Clearly he wasn’t what Mark had expected either because he seemed to deflate a little. Then he recalled how much this man had scared Sarah and recovered his resolve.
    “Why are you stalking my wife?” he demanded, standing nose-to-nose with the stranger, who regarded him coolly.
    “I’m not stalking her, I’m here for her protection,” replied the man in a harsh Glaswegian accent, penetrating amber eyes flicking between Sarah and Mark. He spoke quietly so Sarah standing at the gate couldn’t overhear.
    “Protection from what?” said Mark, similarly lowering his voice.
    The man flashed a chilling smile. “You Mr Creegan.”
    “And what is that supposed to mean?”
    “I think we both know the answer to that.”
    Sweat broke out on the back of Mark’s neck. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Yes you do.”
    “Look, just fuck off or we’re going to the police.”
    “And tell them what? That I’ve been parking my car on a public street?”
    “No, that you’ve been stalking my wife and scaring the crap out of her.”
    “I’m sorry if I did that, I didn’t mean to.”
    “I would never hurt her,” said Mark, shaking with outrage. “Who the hell are you to come here and tell me I will?”
    “Someone who knows the truth about you Mr Creegan. I’m keeping an eye on you.” With that he tried to get back into his car but Mark grabbed his shoulder.
    “Who are you?”
    The stranger’s expression was cold, amber eyes hard as resin. “It would be smart if you took your hand off my jacket.”
    “So you’re not here to hurt Sarah?” he replied, refusing to relinquish his grip.
    “No Mr Creegan. Quite the opposite. I’m watching you,” he said before shrugging him off and getting back in the Astra.
    Mark stood helplessly on the pavement as he watched the man drive away, the old car coughing and rattling as it went.
    “Who was he?” said Sarah, rushing up to him.
    Mark looked down into his wife’s wide, scared eyes and felt a wave of shame as well as fear that his past was finally catching up with him. “Just some nutter,” he replied before sloping back up the drive to the house, reeling from what he’d just been told.
    “Should we go to the police?” she said, hurrying after him.
    The man’s words buzzed about his brain, tormenting him. He knew. “No, I saw him off.”
    “Are you sure? He was a big bloke.”
    He stopped in his tracks and rounded on her. “I’ve sorted him,” he barked. “I’m sorry,” he added when her eyes filled with hurt. He pulled her into his chest. “Come on, let’s get back inside before the kids start wondering where we are.”
    “So it’s really