No Holds Barred by Lyndon Stacey Read Free Book Online

putting a hand up to halt the man behind, who would have passed him.
    â€˜Well, well, if it isn’t the new boy,’ he observed. ‘Putting us all to shame with his early finish and his squeaky clean truck. What do you think, Macca? D’you think he’s after some brownie points with the boss?’
    His companion grunted and pushed past on his way to the kitchen area. Even in the limited time he’d been around the guy, Daniel had gained the impression that Terry ‘Macca’ MacAlister was a man of few words. Mind you, he had no need for tough words to bolster his image. Only around five feet eight inches tall, he had a powerful physique, unnaturally bronzed skin and a short fuzz of blonde hair on his scalp. His flattened nose and one cauliflower ear bore witness to an earlier career in boxing, and now, in his early forties, he spent much of his spare time coaching the local youth, according to Jenny.
    Edwards sauntered closer to Daniel.
    â€˜You’re wasting your time if you’re trying to impress Taylor,’ he warned, in a voice that carried an indeterminate northern accent. ‘Or perhaps it’s the little lady you’re trying to win over, is that it?’
    Daniel, who had returned his attention to the newspaper after seeing who had come in, continued to ignore him.
    â€˜Is it?’ Edwards repeated loudly, and his aggressive stance brought Taz out from under the coffee table, grumbling under his breath.
    â€˜I’m sorry, were you talking to me?’ Daniel asked pleasantly.
    The other man bristled, looking to his companion for support, but Macca was helping himself to a cup of tea and plainly not interested, so Edwards contented himself with making a short, derisive hissing noise and switching the television on once again on his way to the lockers.
    Full of hot air, Daniel thought to himself, but a troublemaker nonetheless.
    The next five minutes brought Taylor Boyd himself, closely followed by the youngest member of the team – an unprepossessing twenty-one-year-old who had yet to grow into his six-foot frame. His light brown hair was also shaved short, perhaps in an attempt to conform with the tougher element of the Summer Haulage crew, but, with a thin, bony face and rather weak blue eyes, all it did was emphasize his youth. Dean Stevens, who Edwards invariably referred to as Deano, was a deeply insecure and unhappy young man, desperate to fit in with his older colleagues. In Daniel’s opinion, he would do far better to forge a path of his own, but it would be pointless to tell him that.
    â€˜You didn’t give the new boy enough work to do,’ Edwards remarked, taking up a position on the opposite sofa to Daniel. ‘He was sitting here taking it easy when we got back.’
    â€˜No sense giving him too much for the first couple of days,’ Boyd observed. ‘Got to find his way around. Everything OK?’ he added to Daniel. ‘Paperwork done?’
    â€˜It’s in the office.’
    â€˜Good. I wish bloody Reg was as on the ball. Where the hell’s the old duffer got to?’
    â€˜Traffic, maybe,’ Daniel suggested. On first meeting, Reg had seemed a likeable enough sort, and he remembered Jenny’s conviction that Boyd wanted rid of him.
    â€˜I gave him an easy round, too,’ Boyd grumbled on. ‘I’ll have a tea, Deano – when you’ve finished faffing about with that kettle.’
    After Daniel’s tour of the livery yard the previous evening, Jenny had taken him to see her pride and joy, a purebred American Quarter Horse mare with a foal at foot.
    â€˜Quarter Horse?’ It was a new breed to Daniel.
    â€˜They were originally bred as stock horses to work cattle, and the cowboys would race them on their days off, up and down the main street of their local town. Because of the work they did, they were well muscled and very fast over short distances – specifically a quarter of a