Hornets Nest Ch 08

---

David

Tyler slapped my cheek a few times to bring me to.

"Kid. Kid."

I shoved his hand away and buried my face into his shoulder. I was awake, damn it.

"You gonna walk? I might have a bit of trouble carrying you."

Still drowsy and lethargic, I managed to get out of the car. I wasn't in such excruciating pain, I felt a little more like myself. I wanted to figure out what was going on. I tried to pay attention to everything.

It was early morning. Summertime brightness could be misleading. The surroundings were... a carpark, of sorts. Trees. Birds. Was it an office building?

Our 'escort' led us inside. So long as we weren't giving them trouble, they weren't giving us trouble, but a hand on my back still gave an irritating shove.

My head hurt, but it was bearable. As soon as we were indoors it became clear that the building was abandoned. It wasn't in a terrible state, there wasn't shit everywhere or tons of broken windows. It was simply very empty, and smelt stale.

We scaled a stairwell up numerous levels. There were more people there, reacting when we arrived as though they'd been expecting us. So many faces of strangers merged together in one big blur in my mind. It was almost possible to forget what was going on, except that the guy behind me casually had a Glock in his hand.

"A Sörensen?" one asked.

"Yeah, sorta," another replied.

"Ch'ya mean

sorta

?"

"It's the spouse."

"Oh, right, he's a fag, ain't he?" His eyes moved to Tyler. "So you's like the wife?"

Tyler's eyebrow rose. "Yeah, I do the cooking and cleaning and stuff."

One burst with laughter.

"Jeez, don't encourage him," another snapped. "He doesn't shut up."

"And what's the kid?"

"Sörensen's nephew."

I was stared at, but he didn't speak to me. "So boss is happy?"

"Yeah."

"Well, put 'em away."

They needed to talk and do their 'work', or whatever. We were ushered away behind a door, into a very empty looking office. "No funny business," a voice reminded us.

Someone leant against the shut door, his back visible through the narrow rectangular window. There were faint murmurs and tones of voices through the building's soundproofing.

Tyler went straight over to the window while I sagged against a wall.

"Where are we?" I asked.

"Somewhere around London."

I slid down to the floor. "How high is it?"

Tyler grunted and his forehead thudded the glass. "Fifty feet? We're not getting out through the window, kid."

I felt like saying, that from what Violet had taught me, I actually thought I'd be able to make my way to the ground unharmed. But my mind was more focused on other things - what had happened to Violet?

We'd never turned up. Had she realised something was wrong? Done something about it? We'd been very close to the station when we'd been jumped. Maybe she'd heard something, maybe she'd seen it?

"Tyler," I said, but he didn't turn from the window straight away. "What's going on?"

There was a silence with no response.

"Tyler," I growled.

"Fuck."

"What?"

"Why do I have to be the fucking one to tell you this?"

"I'm fucking sorry?"

He finally turned from the window, rubbed his eyes, and gave me an empty stare.

"Tyler."

"This wasn't something that was supposed to affect your life. Ever."

There was another pause, then I snapped, "It kinda has, hasn't it?"

"Jesus Christ."

"Tell me what the fuck is going on."

He came and sat next to me, tossing a glance at the door. To my further annoyance, he didn't start explaining, but instead grabbed my jaw to check me over again.

"I'm fine," I said.

The pain in my head was mostly localised to one point, rather than the all over throbbing that felt like my brain grated against sandpaper. His fingers touched that point and I winced. My hair was matted with blood, but it was dry.

"Is my skull split open?"

"Nah, you're okay." He sighed, and his expression was ridden with guilt. "I'm sorry, kid."

"Please tell me what's going on."

"Okay, but look, just listen. Listen and don't say shit, okay?"

"Okay."

"All this shit, everything, is because of Darren's father. He got himself involved with some criminals, the black market, and did some stupid things. We've never known exactly what. Whatever he did, he took it with him to his grave. He did die in a car crash, kid, but it was because he was attacked and shot while driving."

"... Okay."

"Darren's eldest cousin was killed by these pricks for being involved, or whatever."

"He was

murdered

?"

"Yes. That was it for a long time, kid, but they came back eventually. Do you remember when your dad had that broken rib? That was because of this. These people were trying to get to Darren, but your dad was there. I mean, it's your dad, he figured out they were shady, he pissed them off, and they attacked him."

I scowled.

"And you remember when I totaled my car, kid? That was because of this. They attacked me and Darren on the street. We, well... We got away, but they chased and fucking smashed into me. That's why I crashed."

It was giving me a headache to scowl any further. It was absolute absurdity. Tyler was rushing through a lot of information, and it wasn't really sinking in.

"Police were all up in the air after that," he continued. "We thought it was over. It was, for a while. But, when you were like, ten, or something? Do you remember when me and Darren went on that sudden holiday? We didn't go on holiday, the fucking police took us in for protection. These pricks killed Marcus."

"You told me he moved to Sweden."

"No, he's fucking dead, kid."

Holy shit. "... And after that?"

"The police took in Vincent, too. But he got out somehow, because the police are fucking stupid. Next thing we know, he's died in a car crash. And in that crash with him, was a body that the police eventually identified as 'Brendan Driscoll'. Some big shot in the black market. So, apparently, that was who had been giving Darren shit all that fucking time."

I stared at the floor. "So Vincent didn't die from a heart attack, huh?"

"No. I dunno, it just seemed pretty ridiculous to say someone

else

died in a car crash. You'd get a damn phobia of cars."

"What about the cousin who died in Darren's Lambo crash? Was that because of this?"

"Oh... No." Tyler smirked. "That was all Darren, kid. But, other than that, yeah, these fucking cunts slowly killed Darren's whole family."

There was a pause of silence. I listened to the muffled tones of the conversation going on outside the door. It was a lot to take in, and not exactly explaining why we were there right now, either.

My voice was quiet. "Why did you never tell me this?"

"Why would we tell you?"

"Why wouldn't you?"

"Kid. Give me one good fucking reason why we would ever tell you this shit?"

"Because I'm a part of this family and I deserve to know?"

"Hey, maybe when you were old enough. Guess you're old enough, now. Congratulations."

I clasped my forehead. "You killed someone?"

Tyler didn't instantly reply, choosing to stare at the opposite wall instead. "... Yeah. In self defence, when they attacked me and Darren on the street."

I sat in silence to try and process that. It was too much to take in. Trying to think about these things happening, not only before my existence, but going on after I was born. They'd certainly sheltered me from it. Sometimes I found it hard to think about normal stories involving my parents or uncles, to imagine they'd ever once been something else other than happily married adults, and this was something else.

It just wasn't working in my head.

He was Tyler, my uncle. My dad's best friend, my mum's biggest friendly rival, with the funny and loud mouth, where nobody actually meant it when we told him to shut up. We couldn't live without him, his cheeky grins and boyish excitement, his energy and love for life. He never offered to help because he expected you to handle yourself, and yet if you ever asked, he'd go to the ends of the earth for you.

He filled hundreds, if not thousands, of my happy childhood memories. He'd always been there. And he was a murderer. Maybe I was really emotionally soft, but I just wasn't finding that an easy piece of news.

Everybody else must have known - Darren, Mum and Dad. And apparently, they weren't bothered.

Tyler was giving me a look, as if everything I thought was all far too obvious on my face. "You want gory details, kid?"

"No," I snapped. "Fuck you."

"It was one of these dickheads, kid. I didn't go murdering some fucking innocent on the street. If someone pulled a knife on you, stabbed you, wouldn't you do it?"

I didn't know. I'd never had to think something like that before. I'd been threatened by enough kids during school years, with their shitty attitudes and gobby mouths - '

Mate, I'll fuckin' cut you!

' - and yet never thought about what I'd do if it actually happened.

Probably because I knew the answer on a gut level.

Tyler pulled up his shirt. "This one," he said, tapping his fingers on the scar one side of his stomach, "is where the cunt stabbed me. And this," he gestured to the scarred line the other side, "yes, they did cut me open to get at my kidney, and you know why it actually was? To get a bullet out of it. Where I was fucking shot."

"Okay, and what about that one?" He had a scar on his forehead that went through his left eyebrow.

"That was from a time with your dad." He frowned at me. "Jesus, kid. Did you get like this with your dad?"

It might have been the most genuinely innocent, clueless "What?" I ever asked. There was a brief flash to Tyler's expression, and the room went so silent you could probably hear a pin drop.

I wasn't an idiot, and my mind raced to try piece it together. "... You mean Dad killed someone?"

"He didn't tell you? He told you everything, but left that out? Zack, you prick. You fucking

prick

."

"Holy shit."

"Yes, kid, he fucking shot someone dead while we were out on a run."

"A run?"

He studied me for a few seconds. "He really hasn't told you shit, has he?"

"He has told me stuff, I guess not everything."

"Stupid prick."

I scowled at Tyler and felt strangely defensive over my father. I'd seen how difficult and painful he'd found it before.

Tyler leant against my shoulder and massaged his eyelids in exhaustion. "I don't want to talk about this with you, kid."

"No, don't."

"Ask your dad when we get out, yeah?"

"Are we getting out? What the fuck is going on? Why are we here?"

He let out a long sigh. "I don't know, kid." He rubbed his head where he had his own bruises and cuts. "I don't fucking know. It's a hornet's nest." He slouched further, resting against my shoulder and chest with his eyes closed. "It's probably Vi."

"What?"

"You said her parents are involved in some shit? She goes acting funny, disappears, comes back, calls me in the middle of the fucking night, then some people who know who I am are perfectly there to jump me? Okay, kid. Keep being blind."

"No, her parents aren't part of this stuff. They're in a drug gang."

He grunted. "Like fuckin' Zack?"

"Yeah, like Dad. It's not this 'black market' shit."

"Kid, I'm sorry to say, but the drug trade falls under 'black market'."

His voice had gotten grumbly and quieter. My heart thudded against my ribs and I felt sick.

"Kid, I just need to sleep a bit."

"Tyler."

"What."

"Are you scared?"

"I'm shitting myself."

"You don't sound it."

He grunted again. "I'm scared about Darren."

"Why?"

"Because, what you don't know about him, is that he's a fucking idiot."

I couldn't sleep, even if I wanted to. My mind raced in panicked circles.

---

Violet

The hit group was down to two men and one car. The undamaged car, and the undamaged men. Alex had a bruise showing up beneath an eye, but it wasn't too bad or obvious. I wondered who'd given it to him - David, or Tyler?

They were upbeat and cheerful, despite the long night. I guess things were going well for them. Both looked sleep deprived, but both seemed fine with surviving on caffeine.

We went into a Starbucks of all places. Questionable things were casually left beneath the passenger seat in the car, but I kept my jacket with me. We looked quite ordinary. The pair of them were in polo shirts and jeans, and the younger guy had sunglasses hooked into his collar.

"Wanna borrow?" he asked Alex. "Hide that black eye o' yours."

Alex responded with a tut.

They bantered away about football while we sat eating croissants and drinking coffee. One nearby man, with tattoos all up his arm, kept looking in our direction. I wondered why. Did he just 'sense' something wrong? Was he questioning why I was in their company?

In all honesty, I think Alex took a few shots flirting with me. I wasn't responsive to it. Even on a good day, under any other possible circumstances, he was a little old for me. Thirty-something at least.

A dick move of him, anyways, since he was quite aware of my status. Once we were back in the car he tossed me a look while reversing out of the parking space.

"Sorry 'bout your boyfriend, love."

"He wasn't supposed to get caught up in this," I replied in an honest blurt.

"Yeah, shit happens. He was a fierce fuckin' bastard. We had to knock him out for his own good."

"He would've made mince meat of Mikey's face if I wasn't there," Lee said.

The mere thought that either of these had hurt David was enough to make me toxic, let alone what I'd watched. I contained it.

"Uh-huh," Alex agreed, trying to turn out into a busy rush-hour road.

"And the Sörensen guy nearly put Ben's head through that window."

Alex snorted. "I fuckin' told you boys not to piss around. Girlie, your boyfriend's probably gonna be fine, so long as mister Sörensen don't go giving boss trouble. It's important for you to help keep him amiable once we pick him up, yeah?"

"I know," I said.

"Boss is normally fair, but he's got a really short temper."

"He's fucking batty," Lee said.

"No he ain't. Fuckin' hell, Lee."

"Aight, he's not as bad as his dad."

"He might've lost his marbles a bit at the end but he weren't always like that."

"Boss pisses around a lot."

"Yeah, sometimes, but he gets results. What's problem?"

"More work for us?"

"You've got a fuckin' horrible work ethic, mate. You hardly knew Brendan. He'd have you fucking shot."

"Yeah, 'cause he lost his marbles."

My phone had vibrated with a text while in the Starbucks, but I hadn't checked it. With them busy bantering again, I decided to, not really thinking whether they'd notice me or not.

They did notice. Alex's eyes were on the rearview mirror. "What's that?"

"My friend," I replied in my most bored tone, which wasn't actually hard to pull off. "She wants to know if I'm going to town later." I vacantly raised my brows as I thumbed a response on the screen. "Have to tell her I'm a bit busy."

"Yeah," Alex chuckled. "I'll say."

The text was from Zack, warning me of an anonymous call I would be receiving sometime soon.

Everything depended on these people not having any reason to suspect me, on them staying completely blind to the idea that I might not be as obedient as they thought. I kept being treated with bipolar extremes. One minute they expected me to be savvy and performing smoothly, the next they thought I was a clueless teenaged girl.

There were bits of truth in both.

It might have been time to play up the clueless side a little. Try to display some insecurities.

I leant forward, against the back of the driver's seat. "Alex," I started.

"Yes, love?"

"When this is all done, Driscoll is gonna let my parents go, right?"

"He's a man of his word."

"I'm just... I dunno. I'm nervous."

"Yeah, I know. Just do what you have to do. There's no reason for anything to go wrong. Especially if you help in keeping Sörensen amiable..."

"I know. It's just, he can be really stubborn."

"It's all gonna be fine."

"When are we picking him up?"

"Soon." He lifted a hand to give my cheek an affectionate pat.

My impulsive reaction was to recoil from his touch, but I didn't. If he was going to be friendly with me, might as well be friendly back.

*

I found myself dumped out on a street once again, and they drove off. I had to wait for Darren. He'd been told where to go.

I felt like I was reaching a point where I was so tired I stopped caring. Being in that state put me at risk of impulses so much more. I didn't want to make any animalistic mistakes, whatever they may be.

So I sat on a wall beside the road and scrolled through my phone, re-reading text conversations I'd had with David, trying to ground myself back to reality. It was stirring something in me, but getting emotional wasn't making me feel much better.

I heard a car pull up on the curb in front of me. My eyes moved over the black door that opened. Darren stepped out, fully dressed in his suit. His head turned, tossing a few glances about our surroundings, before stepping over to me.

"You're alone?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Are you wired or anything?"

Because I'd say yes if I was, right? I tilted my head at him, at his stupid question. "No. Are you?"

He shook his head. "Zack and Lia are dealing with the police."

"They just let you come?"

"Nobody let me do shit, I got out of there before they took me in."

I fucking swear, he was like an insolent child. But, we did need him free. I needed to take him in for the plan to work.

"Have you had the call yet?" he asked.

"No."

He touched at his brow.

"It doesn't matter when I get it," I said.

"Sooner rather than later. If you don't get it until we're there-"

"Then you gotta have a real long conversation with Driscoll."

He massaged his eyebrows and stared at the floor. "What are we doing?"

"I don't know yet. I have to tell Alex that I have you."

He returned to the car and I got into the passenger side. I thumbed a message to Alex's number, and received a reply with a street address. I entered it into the sat nav built into the dashboard while Darren watched.

"You have to behave believably, you know," I said.

"I know." He started the engine and drove us to our destination.

I copied the address in another message to Zack, explaining the current situation, on the off chance that it might be helpful in some way.

The drive wasn't... smooth. Darren was supposed to be this amazing race car driver, but he went into the wrong gear at one point and irritably shifted it again when the engine made an unhappy noise. He was tense and jerky, and it showed, even through the steering. He must have been really nervous. I stayed awkwardly silent.

"Here," I said, pointing to a narrow side road. Alex and Lee were down it with the car.

Darren pulled up and parked, then shot me a look, like his eyes were two blocks of ice in his face, somehow burning with hatred.

"Okay," I said. "That's believable."

"Mister Sörensen," Alex's voice greeted. I shut the passenger door and looked over. "Remember me? Last time we met, you tried to fuckin' throttle me to death." He offered a handshake.

Darren stood very still, but accepted the handshake while seeming to dig through memories. "Hello," he finally replied. "Got a promotion?"

I tried to picture it as my eyes bounced between them. Darren wasn't 'small' - he was taller than Alex, and pretty broad in the shoulders. It was still hard to imagine any aggression or violence in him.

They searched him none too gently and Darren scowled, but didn't fight against it.

Nobody seemed comfortable about where their hands had to go, and Lee visibly smirked. "You wired?"

"No."

"Got anythin' we should be worried about?"

"No."

They took things out of his pockets - wallet, phone, a packet of spearmint gum. "Leave it in the car," Alex said, handing the wallet and phone back. Darren did so, shutting them in the glovebox of his Jag, then locked it up and got into the back of the second car beside me.