Fenny and Gina hurried into a nearby side street, the rundown apartment block still in sight. Fenny fell against a wall, the fur coat held tightly around her. Gina paced nervously as she wrung her hands.

“Remind me to avoid heels next time I get kidnapped and forced to whore myself,” Fenny remarked, looking accusingly at her boots.

“Should we go back for Paul?” Gina asked, a panicked tone to her voice. “We should, that’d be the right thing to do. He’s only little, they’ll kill him.”

Fenny looked up from her boots. “We can’t go back, they’ll kill us.”

“You heard him screaming. They’ll hurt him, Fen,” Gina breathed. Fenny was surprised to see Gina in a state; she never got in a state. In fact, Gina had only two emotions, pissed off and sappy, and even then the lines were blurred.

“Gina, if anyone is going to be okay, it’ll be Paul,” she soothed, resting her hands on Gina’s arms and trying to comfort her.

“Sorry,” Gina sniffed, “Guilt and pot should never be mixed. Let that be a lesson to you.”

“Pot?” Fenny asked, surprised.

“I’ll explain later,” Gina sighed, crossing her arms and looking back toward the street.

“So, what now?” Fenny asked before Gina pulled her into a vacant doorway. They both peered cautiously back down the side street to see several heavies mulling around, one yelling down a cell phone.

“What now?” Gina whispered. “I suggest we get out of here, pronto.”

“Yeah, we’ll just saunter past the henchmen, shall we?” Fenny scorned.

Gina looked at her baffled. “I’m sorry, was that attitude you just gave me?”

“You’d be attitudal too if you’d been drooled over by a perverted Dutchman while sporting the top item from the sealed section of a Victoria’s Secret catalogue.”

“Attitudal?” Gina mused. “You’re inventing words and I’m the on who’s been smoking pot.”

“Excuse me?”

“As for escaping from this side street, you may or may not have noticed it has two ends,” Gina declared and stepped back onto the cobbled road. She pulled Fenny from the doorway and Fenny stumbled into her arms. “We go the opposite way to them,” Gina finished, slightly winded.

“Sorry,” Fenny winced.

“Get the fuck off me,” Paul yelped as he was thrown against a wall. He let out a hiss of pain. The wall was followed by several excruciating punches to his abdomen, another three to his face, and the streaming of blood from his now split lip.

“What are we doing with this one?” asked a heavy who appeared at the door.

“Don wants him back at the manor,” replied the heavy who was squeezing Paul’s windpipe so tightly he thought he was going to pass out. “You got rope?”

“What do you need rope for?”

“To tie up the little fuck. This one likes to escape.”

The second heavy strode over and looked at the now extremely battered Paul.

“Hi, I don’t believe we’ve met,” Paul groaned, sharp pains pricking his body as he choked the words out.

“You don’t need fucking rope,” spat the second heavy. Paul saw the large man’s ham-like fist and then nothing but blackness.

Brad looked at the copious eyes staring at him as they waited for him to turn over his cards. He was sure Franco was about to pull out his gun and lodge a bullet straight in his windpipe while several others cracked their knuckles sending shivers down Brad’s spine. Brad licked his lips and then gingerly turned over his cards, hoping that he’d finally gotten the hang of Franco’s system.

“He’s got a full house, sir,” piped up one of the heavies.

“Congratulations Mr. Sherwood, you might avoid death yet,” Franco sneered.

“Oh, you’re too kind,” Brad teased and was greeted by another round of cracking knuckles.

“We’ll disband until 8 o’clock when our clients arrive,” Franco declared. The other men nodded. “Somebody do something with our man here, keep him out of trouble.”

“I’ll do it,” Beven offered and got to his feet. “You, up,” he added, glaring at Brad.

“What, no please?” Brad pouted as Beven grabbed him by the back of his jacket and dragged him from the room. Brad smiled and waved at Franco and his cronies before they were lost behind a large oak door.

“You really want your legs broken, don’t you?” Beven sighed, letting go of Brad.

“Well if I didn’t act cocky and self assured they’d get suspicious,” Brad shrugged, readjusting his jacket.

“You could act petrified,” Beven suggested as they descended a flight of stairs.

“Of what? You’re a big snuggle bear,” Brad grinned.

“Don’t call me a snuggle bear,” Beven hissed, stopping to glare at Brad. “Ever.”

“Were you not held enough as a child?”

“For fuck’s sake,” Beven breathed. As they reached the top of the stairs he headed down a small, dark hallway and came to a stop outside one of the numerous chipped, wooden doors. He pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked it before ushering Brad inside.

“This is nice,” Brad remarked as he took a seat on the end of the bed, which was cheerfully decorated with a floral bedspread, and undid his tie.

“Make the most of it, you won’t get to bed tonight,” Beven declared and he raided the bar fridge on the far side of the room. “Larger or spirits?”

“Either,” Brad shrugged as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet.

“What you looking at?” Beven asked, handing him a larger.

“My kid,” Brad sighed, showing Beven the photo of Lilly and Mochrie in Montana.

“She’s cute,” Beven nodded as he opened his can. “That her mum?”

“No, that’s my wife,” Brad replied sheepishly as he turned his attention to a photo of Fenny. “It’s a long story, but Lilly was the product of a drunken one night stand.”

“And the wife?”

“Product of her own deranged mind?”

Beven chuckled and pulled out his wallet. “That’s my kid,” he declared as Brad looked at the photo of the young boy in an Arsenal soccer shirt. “Toby.”

“Is he going into the family business?” Brad asked as he took a mouthful of the watery beer.

“It’s not a family business,” Beven grumbled, snapping his wallet shut. “His mum left me for one of Don’s mates. I only worked as a brickie and when she hit me with the divorce and child support…” his voice trailed off. “Don came up to me one night at the pub, offered me the job, and it paid more than anything I could ever hope to achieve.”

“Ever killed anyone?” Brad asked, not meaning to say what he was thinking.

“I hope not,” Beven replied. “Wouldn’t be worth it anyway, the bitch still won’t let me see the kid.”

“Why won’t she let you see your son?” Brad gasped.

Beven shrugged. “So what’s your story? Why are you here?”

“I was beaten and kidnapped by you and your buddies,” Brad said blankly.

“Okay, different track. How’d you and your friends get so good at fighting off us? Normal people just don’t do that,” Beven perked, leaning back against the headboard.

“Now that really is a long story,” Brad mused. “It started in Australia. Some friends and I got very, very drunk and ended up having to retrace our steps to work out what we’d done. Turns out one of my friends had been used as a decoy by a woman named Ritza Crispin. Ritza being a psycho and a Mafia bitch.”

“Jesus.”

“Then we went back to LA and I met Fenny, and then I found out Fenny had been fucking one of my best mates. Greg, he’s the slightly spineless one with glasses who did damage to one of your buddies with a tire lever.”

“Oh yeah,” Beven smiled, amused.

“Then Ritza and her equally psychotic sister Rona kidnapped my friend and we had to go back to Australia. Along the way Greg met Gina — she’s the angry blonde one who scarred Don’s testicles.” Brad grinned. “And I had a fling with Ritza. Well, more than a fling.”

“You fucked the kidnapper?”

“Yeah, so then it was back to LA and Fenny came back into my life. I was torn between Fenny who meant so much to me, and Ritza who blew me away.”

“And you picked Fen?”

“No, Ritza got pregnant, so I felt obligated to go with her.”

“So, your kidnapper is the mother of Lilly?”

“No, she had Gus. Turns out she was screwing around behind my back.”

“Jesus, and I thought my life was fucked up,” Beven declared as he finished his larger.

“Anyway, Fenny was devastated and headed to Australia with Gina. I realised I loved her and went after her but by the time I got there, madly jealous Ritza had kidnapped her. So, we organised a rescue team. There was me; Gina, who was torn between her budding lust for Greg and her ex-husband Paul. He’s the small hirsute man who knocked your buddy comatose with a set of bolt cutters.”

“Oh yes, he kissed me once.”

“He kisses most people. So, eventually we ended up in the middle of nowhere. Ritza shot me in the shoulder, Paul got the crap beaten out of him, Fenny was losing it, and Greg was useless. But Gina, well she grabbed Rona’s gun and saved the day.”

“Then what happened?”

“Went back to LA, Fenny found out about Lilly and freaked, Gina and Paul realised they had something special and should make a go of it, after she decided to stop screwing Greg’s brains out.”

“So what happened with Fen?”

“She left me,” Brad sighed. “Eventually we all ended up in Edinburgh and with you guys.”

“And you got back together?”

“Well no, Fenny threw a fit and I didn’t see her again until we were back in Australia. Paul was dating some atrocious woman by then and Fenny was screwing Andy, he’s in advertising.”

“Wanker.”

“Then she started seeing his friend Danny.”

“Christ.”

“But after a big fight, we finally got it together and I organised our wedding in a day. Paul and Gina renewed their vows as well, it was really special.”

“And things have be right since?”

“Well no, because I let Ritza and her son move into my house in Montana and I don’t think Fenny is coping with that, and Gina and Paul are in denial, and Greg is still hung up on Gina, the therapy is doing nothing. But hey, such is life.”

Beven looked at Brad shocked. “No wonder a few threats don’t bother you,” he breathed. “I think we should move on to spirits.”

“Well it’s nice to see you again, even in such circumstances,” Fenny mused as she dropped a plastic bag onto the bed of the room she and Gina had rented for the night.

“Oh yes, just how I wanted us to meet. You dressed like a whore and me a pot head,” Gina scorned as she flumped onto her side of the bed. Fenny grabbed the jeans and jumper she’d bought out of the bag and started pulling them on.

“So how’d you get kidnapped?”

“Snatched from my hotel room, dumped in the back of a van.”

“They haven’t gotten any more original, then?” Fenny sighed as she unzipped the boots and let out a small groan.

“We got taken to some airstrip, they beat the shit out of Paul,” Gina said miserably. “Oh and Brad’s in England.”

“He’s what? Why?” Fenny gasped, pulling on one leg of her jeans and trying not to fall over.

“No idea. And Amy took off with Greg, Dan and Ritza were going after him.”

Fenny zipped up her jeans and grabbed the jumper from the bag. “Amy?”

“American chick, some acquaintance of Don’s.”

“Fabulous,” Fenny sighed, falling on the bed next to Gina. “So how was it seeing Paul again?”

Gina looked slightly shocked by the non-kidnap related question. “Would have been better had Freya not appeared.”

“What the hell is that harpy doing in E-Burgh?”

“Stalking him, I believe,” Gina mused. “He was so adorable when he chased after me. I would have ended up at his hotel room, too, had we not been kidnapped.”

“At least you were kidnapped together,” Fenny chided. “So what was with the pot smoking?”

“Well, it was to mask the pain, sorta,” Gina shrugged.

“And did you two…?”

“No. I pashed him, though,” Gina said with a wry smile. “God I feel guilty, if anything happens to him…”

“There’s positive thought for you,” Fenny teased.

“How’s things with Brad?”

“Oh you know, the usual. I stay home and work while he spends two weeks with two of his ex-lovers.”

“Yes, I can see how that’d be uncomfortable.”

“And then he brought her with us,” Fenny grumbled. “I could have killed him.”

“You mightn’t have to, he might be dead already.”

Fenny gave Gina daggers.

“Hey positive thought, remember,” Gina mused.

“What you drinking Brannigan?” Greg asked as he, Ritza and Danny sauntered up to a small bar in an equally small motel.

“Whisky, a double,” Danny breathed, still shaken from the events that had unfolded that day.

“And the lady?” Greg asked with a wry smile.

“Tequila,” Ritza smiled. “I haven’t drunk in ages.”

“Wanna do shots?” Greg asked.

“Sure,” Ritza perked. “Gonna join us Dan?”

“No thanks,” Danny sighed, sculling his whisky. “I’m going to hit the sack.”

“Party pooper,” Greg jeered as Danny gave him the finger and headed out of the bar toward the stairs. “Boy has no stamina.”

“Night, Bambi,” Ritza called and then looked back at Greg. “Oh please, had I not saved your arse, you wouldn’t even be talking to me,” she chided, taking her first shot of tequila.

“I’ve talked to you on many occasions,” he said, offended as he reached for his second shot.

“I don’t think all the times you referred to me as a ‘psycho bitch’ count, do they?”

“Touché,” he mused as they toasted their shot glasses. “But you have tried to kill us on several occasions.”

“I think you’ll find I’ve never tried to kill any of you. I wanted to scare Fen, and what happened to Brad was an accident. It was Rona who had issues with Gina, and she was narked Paul turned her down. But I’ve never lifted a finger to you,” Ritza said, eyebrow raised.

Greg ran his meetings with Ritza back in his mind. “Why have you never laid a finger on me?”

Ritza smiled coyly. She placed a hand on his knee and leant forward. “I think you’re cute,” she giggled into his ear. Greg choked on his shot, shocked by the revelation.

“Don’t say shit like that,” he scorned.

“But it’s true? Didn’t you ever wonder why I always let you go?” she asked.

“Sometimes,” he nodded and they fell silent.

“Do you want to finish the bottle in my room?”

Greg studied her through the slow intoxication of the tequila and the smoky haze; he could see what Brad had fallen for. Ritza Crispin was an intensely attractive woman when she wasn’t holding a gun at your head.

Paul let out a groan and held his head as he rolled onto his back. He wasn’t sure where he was, and it took several moments for him to realise he was in the back of a truck. He managed to sit up, wincing at the pain that gripped his body. He scanned the back of the truck. Boxes took up most of the room, and he decided it didn’t take a genius to work out what was in them. He felt a lump in his pocket and gingerly fished around until he pulled out Amy’s cell phone. Paul lay back down and pondered a moment who to call. The only person he could think of that might have a cell phone, who always had a cell phone, was Fenny.

“You’re ringing,” Gina declared as part of the fur coat vibrated like it was still alive. Fenny slid off the bed and grabbed the coat from where she’d dumped it on the floor. She pulled out her cell phone and was slightly worried by the unfamiliar number it was displaying.

“Hello,” she said cautiously.

“Fen are you okay?” Paul said in a hushed voice.

“Fine.”

“And Genie.”

“She’s fine apart form the immense guilt she’s feeling,” Fenny mused.

“Is that Paul?” Gina asked, clambering over the bed to Fenny. Fenny nodded. “Is he okay?”

“Are you okay?” Fenny asked.

“Apart from the severe beating and being trapped in the back of a truck, I’m on top of the world.” Paul grimaced as he felt a searing pain in his abdomen.

“Is he?” Gina asked, Fenny decided the three-way conversation wasn’t working and handed the phone to Gina. “Are you okay?”

“Just dandy,” Paul breathed.

“Oh god, what have they done to you? I knew we should have gone back. What am I going to tell your mother? What am I going to tell my mother?”

“Genie, calm down,” Paul laughed and then wished he hadn’t. “I’m in a truck going god knows where. I have a feeling it’s back to Scotland though. Before they beat me unconscious they said something about the manor.”

“Beat you unconscious,” Gina gasped.

“That’s not the important bit about what I said.”

“It’s important to me.”

“Don’t start to care, not now.”

“I’m your wife and I’ll care if and when I want to.”

“This is the stupidest conversation we’ve ever had.”

“Knew we shouldn’t have finished that joint.”

“Oh, but it was so worth it.” Paul paused a moment. “I think we’ve turned off the road we were on, I better go. You’re coming to Scotland, right?”

“Probably, once we find Ritza, Dan and Greg.” Gina looked over at Fenny who was signalling madly. “Huh, oh, you’ll keep a look out for Brad, won’t you?”

“Sure, as long as they don’t pluck out my eyeballs.”

“That’s not even close to funny.”

“Don’t worry about me, okay? Worry about yourselves.”

“Can I worry about you just a little bit?”

Paul giggled and then winced. “I love you, you stupid woman. Now stop being fucking sappy and get your arse to Scotland to save me.” He hung up and Gina was left with silence.

“So?” Fenny asked.

“We’ve got to get to Scotland,” Gina said blankly.

“Of course we do,” Fenny groaned and rubbed her face with her hands.

“So what do you suggest our next move should be, Ms. Crispin?” Greg asked as he lay sprawled on Ritza’s bed.

“Well seeing as things aren’t working out for our friendly, neighbourhood villain, I reckon he’ll go back to his base. Wherever that is,” Ritza replied, kicking off her shoes and joining Greg on the bed.

“Auch-something-or-rather.”

“Right, then we should head there.”

“Now?”

“God no, we’re already too drunk.”

“Good point.”

They fell silent and Ritza rested the remaining tequila on the bedside cabinet. “Greg?”

“Yes, Ms. Crispin,” Greg mused, happily intoxicated.

“I didn’t freak you out before, I mean when I said…”

“No, of course you didn’t,” Greg gasped as he fumbled to a sitting position. “I was shocked at first, but it’s kinda nice to have an admirer.”

“Another one, you mean.”

“Hey?”

“Fen and Gina.”

“Fen and I are definitely never getting naked together again. She’s got enough men…”

“And Gina?”

“Let’s not go there. Still working through that one with the therapist.”

“You really like her, don’t you?” Ritza said softly, resting her hand on Greg’s arm.

“Yes, no, maybe…. I don’t know.” He shrugged and looked curiously at her hand.

They fell silent again. Ritza’s hand didn’t move. “Greg, this could be the tequila talking…” she began. Greg looked up and caught her eye.

“And?” he asked quietly.

Ritza was lost for words. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she felt herself lean toward Greg. Their lips met and they engulfed each other in a passionate kiss. Her hands ran through his hair, gripping handfuls while his hands roamed her body, feeling their way around a body that was new. Ritza slid onto Greg’s lap and straddled him. She tore open his shirt and began to drop kisses on his chest.

“Fuck, we shouldn’t be doing this,” he managed to pant as his hands went searching for her breasts.

“You want me to stop?” she breathed as she stopped and looked up.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked as her hands gently stroked his bare flesh.

“I don’t think I can,” she said after several seconds.

“Me meither,” he breathed and pulled her to him for another heated kiss.