Dead or Alive by Ken McCoy Read Free Book Online Page A

Sharky went into the hall and kicked open the bedroom door. He pointed the gun at Lee’s head.
    â€˜Out of bed, both of you.’
    Chantelle tried to maintain her modesty by covering herself with a bedsheet, but Sharky dragged it off her, leaving her as naked as Lee.
    She tried to cover herself with her hands. ‘Put yer hands on yer head!’ Sharky said. They both did as ordered. Lee’s body was littered with cheap tattoos, hard to make out, like damp newsprint. Sharky shouted at him. ‘Not you, her! Who the fuck wants to see you? Both of yer through there.’
    Sharky indicated with his shotgun that they go into the next room. They did as he ordered. Both of them weeping with terror. In the next room Spud had got the occupants lined up against a wall, facing him. Lee and Chantelle were made to join them. Chantelle had a generous body and a mean face which was now distorted with fear. Sharky did all the talking.
    â€˜Yer’ve gotta a snake in the grass among yer. D’yer know that?’
    They all shook their heads, including Lee, who had no idea how they could have possibly found out. His sole contact in the police wouldn’t have given him up. He assumed they were talking about someone else. Fucking hell! Chantelle! She was the only one who knew enough to grass on Vince. He glanced sideways at her, she was sobbing and shivering with terror. Yeah, it’s definitely Chantelle. You’re dead, girl! What a fucking idiot! Just when they had their getaway set up. He instinctively moved away from her.
    â€˜Mr Lee fucking Dench,’ said Sharky, pointing the shotgun at Lee’s face. ‘Why d’yer grass Mr Formosa to the police?’
    Lee’s eyes sprang open wide with terror. ‘I … I … I … didn’t, man,’ he sobbed. ‘No, not me. I wouldn’t grass him up. Please, yer’ve gotta believe me, man.’ He inclined his head towards Chantelle. ‘She’s the one yer after.’
    â€˜It wasn’t me, it was Lee!’ screamed Chantelle. ‘I don’t know anything!’
    â€˜Yer lyin’ bitch!’ shouted Lee.
    Sharky seemed to give this a moment’s thought, then shook his head, saying, ‘Hmm, I’m inclined to believe the bitch,’ He looked at Spud. ‘Who d’yer believe, him or the bitch?’
    â€˜Not him,’ said Spud.
    â€˜Anyone want to see what happens to people who grass Mr Formosa up?’ Sharky enquired.
    They all just stared at him, not knowing how to react. Lee collapsed to his knees. Sharky aimed the shotgun at the top his head and pulled the trigger. Lee’s head exploded. Blood and brains and bone sprayed all over the room. The two women screamed. Chantelle’s scream was choked off as Spud stuck his handgun in her open mouth and pulled the trigger. The bullet lodged deep in the wall behind her, along with parts of her brain and skull. The surviving woman fainted, two of the men vomited. Sharky looked down at the remains of Lee Dench and remarked, ‘Very thin legs for a man.’
    â€˜Yours are thinner,’ said Spud, retrieving his bullet casing from the bloody mess on the floor and sticking it in his boiler-suit pocket. Losing the casing would have meant getting rid of his precious Glock lest a connection be made.
    â€˜What? I ain’t got thin legs. My legs is wiry, that’s all.’
    The woman was just coming round from her faint. Spud said, ‘OK, show her your legs, see what she thinks.’
    â€˜Bollocks!’ said Sharky.
    â€˜No, just yer legs.’
    Sharky ignored this and turned his attention to the four survivors. ‘If y’ever describe us to the police we’ll know about it an’ someone will come and deal with y’all.’
    â€˜An’ that includes describin’ his thin legs,’ added Spud.
    No one saw any humour in this, certainly not the men, who were Romanian. Sharky glared at his partner as he