Scarlet Women. Jessie Keane
her vision. She’d paused there in the middle of reception, but now she moved again, heading for the door just like Aretha had done two nights ago. And then one of the men emerging from the guest lounge called out her name, and she turned and to her shock saw Redmond Delaney standing there—with Constantine Barolli.
They fell silent and stared at her. Shocked, Annie stared right back. Yeah, it was him. She couldn’t believe it. Smooth bloody American, standing there as bold as brass with Redmond Delaney, boss of the Delaney mob and—because she was a Carter—her enemy.
Antagonism between a Delaney and a Carter was not in any way new. This particular fight went way back to the Fifties, to when Davey Delaney had come over from Ireland and tried to muscle in on Max’s father’s patch. Some things were set in stone. All through the Sixties the Richardsons and the Frasers had the South, the Regans the West, the Nashes had The Angel, the Delaneys held Battersea—and a small pocket in Limehouse, down by the docks, often disputed over—the Krays had Bethnal Green and the Carters had Bow.
Now it was the Seventies, and still the Delaneys had to keep pushing their luck, and when they pushed, the Carter mob pushed back. There had been all sorts of disputes over the years between the two warring clans. Sometimes it had turned downright nasty. Major gang fights broke out; serious damage was inflicted. And earlier this year, Billy Black, Annie’s gofer—who for years had walked the Limehouse streets unmolested—had been killed, dissolving any illusion that there might be peace like flesh in quicklime.
For Annie, it was war.
Once, she had done business with Redmond and his twin sister, Orla. Once, she had even pitied them for their miserable backgrounds. Now, she looked at Redmond—tall, effete, red hair swept back from his white skin, his pale green eyes watching her, dressed in his usual sober black—and felt only hatred.
And what the hell was Constantine Barolli, who had for years been tight in business with the Carters, doing—having a private meet in a plush West End hotel with their worst enemy?
‘Annie?’
It was Constantine who called her name, not Redmond. Redmond had always called her Miss Bailey or Mrs Carter. Always very formal, that was Redmond. Cold as black ice and twice as deadly.
Constantine bloody Barolli.
Annie forced herself to look at him with cool dispassion. And that was hard. Because—damn it—he looked good.
In fact, he looked just the same as when she had last seen him—a stunning man in his early forties, tall and silver-haired, with vivid blue eyes and an all-American tan, wearing a beautifully cut grey suit. Exactly the same as when she had chased after him like an over-keen schoolgirl to Heathrow and told him to call her.
And—oh yeah— he hadn’t. He had called the Delaneys.
She looked at him, looked at Redmond—and walked on. She was down the steps and out on the pavement when Constantine caught up with her.
‘What, are you ignoring me now?’ he asked, catching her arm, and his voice was pure New York, just like she remembered.
Annie stared at his hand on her arm. He was very close, very overwhelming—even more physically imposing than she remembered. She could smell his Acqua di Parma cologne, she was dazzled anew by those intensely probing blue eyes, and she knew that she could all too easily fall under his spell again. If she let herself.
‘It looks like it,’ she said, voice cool, face blank. ‘Don’t it?’
‘You got my note?’ he asked.
‘Yeah. I got it.’
‘You didn’t come over,’ he said.
‘You’re right, I didn’t,’ said Annie as Tony pulled up in the Jag. ‘Will you excuse me? I’ve got a lot of business today.’
‘Why the big chill?’ asked Constantine. She could see a flicker of amusement playing around his mouth. Fuck it, she was angry and that amused him. As usual.
‘What big chill?’
‘All right, put it another way, why have you got that stick up your ass? What’s up with you?’
‘What’s up with me?’ Annie opened her eyes wide and stared at him. ‘What’s up with you, arsehole?’
Probably Constantine had done her a favour, leaving her out in the cold for three long months. It had brought her to her senses, made her rethink. Yeah, she was well out of this. Well out.
‘Excuse me, but people don’t generally talk to me like that,’ said Constantine, grabbing her arm again.
Annie saw Tony’s attention sharpen, and he started to get out from behind the driver’s seat. She shook her head quickly. She didn’t want him starting anything up with this one; he’d be placing himself in more danger than any of them could handle. She couldn’t see Constantine’s minders anywhere, but she knew damned well that they were there, watching. Tony stopped moving.
‘Excuse me, but I think you’ll find I just did,’ said Annie, and got in the car. ‘The Palermo, Tone,’ she said.
But Constantine still had the door open. He hunkered down and looked at her. He still looked as though he was finding this whole thing the biggest joke in the world.
‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to let this go.’
‘Well, good luck with that,’ she said.
‘You asked me to call you.’
‘Yes I did. Stupid of me. Hey, you’d better get back to your meeting. Redmond Delaney’s a big noise around here, you don’t want to go pissing him off. And if he sees you running after a Carter, that’ll do it every time.’
Constantine stood up. ‘Look, it was a business lunch. We met, discussed things, ate a little, drank a little, now I’m going home.’
‘Home to Holland Park? Or home to New York?’
Constantine pursed his lips and stared at her.
‘Is that what all this is for: you’re sore because I didn’t call sooner?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Yes you do. And okay, guilty, and you called me on it. But you know what? If I can finally find the guts to face this thing, then so can you.’
‘So you were just having lunch with Redmond Delaney?’ she asked.
‘Is there a law against that, two businessmen having lunch?’
‘Who invited who?’ asked Annie.
‘He invited me,’ said Constantine.
‘I knew it. He wants the contracts on your clubs up West. The Carter firm—my firm—has always held those contracts.’
Constantine nodded. ‘Yeah, well. Maybe he was making a better offer.’
‘Was he?’
‘I didn’t say that. And anyway, a deal’s a deal. I was happy to work with Max, and I am now happy to work with you.’
‘Big of you.’
Constantine paused for a beat. ‘You know, I’d forgotten what a complete pain in the ass you could be.’
‘Well, I’m glad I’ve refreshed your memory,’ said Annie, and pulled the door shut.
Tony put the car in gear and they moved off.
I’m not going to look back, thought Annie. But she did. Constantine was standing there, gazing after the car, shaking his head and grinning. When he saw her looking back, he waved.
Damn, he did look good.
Her heart was beating fast and hard. Her face felt hot.