Blood Bought

  DS Lasser Crime Series

  Needle House

  The Way That It Falls

  Tethered To The Dead

  Twisted

  More Equal Than Others

  Vanished Beneath

  Riven

  Bad Self

  Crave

  Moments Back

  Conspiracy of Ravens

  Dark Necessities

  Living Ashes

  Stations Of The Cross

  The One With All The Pain

  Shadows Cast

  Blood Bought

  D.S. Marnie Hammond

  Keep Her Near

  Cut The Threads

  Plymouth

  Stormcock

  Blood Bought – DS Lasser 17

  Author Robin Roughley

  Copyright © 2018 by Robin Roughley

  Published on Amazon 2018

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Cover by Valerie Hammond.

  Table of Contents

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

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  18

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  20

  21

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  152

  BLOOD BOUGHT

  1

  The woman dashed through the trees, hair flying, eyes narrowed as she darted around the gnarled trunk of an ancient twisted oak.

  Above, the darkening sky was crammed with bruised slate-grey clouds, threatening to dump yet more rain onto the already sodden ground. Her combat pants were soaked from where she'd ran through the shallow stream, her trainers sodden, her feet freezing.

  Gradually, the ground began to slope downwards, her feet slithering through mashed leaves, her arms thrashing at the air for balance.

  Slipping, she landed with a thump and whipped her head around, her eyes searching through the gloom, her ears attuned for the slightest sound of pursuit.

  Shadows seemed to slink down the wooded hillside towards her, skulking through the trees like a living entity, growing closer with every second that passed. Swiping the back of a hand across her brow, she drew in a sharp breath, leapt to her feet and set off running again. Sprinting through a patch of waist-high ferns she finally broke free and just avoided a snarl of brambles before jumping over the rotting trunk of a fallen tree.

  High above, a wood pigeon clattered through the branches and took to the air, alarmed by the frantic passage of the woman below.

  The cinder path appeared out of the gloom and she came to a halt, her chest rising and falling as she gulped the cold night air.

  At her back she heard a whoop and spun around, her hair whipping over her shoulder, her eyes narrowing.

  'I'm coming bitch!' the voice boomed out of the darkness, a voice full of dark excitement.

  The woman hesitated for a moment, wiping more sweat from her brow, and then set off again, her eyes flicking left and right, searching the gloom for any sign of movement.

  Ahead, the trail began to twist and turn, meandering through the trees, sloping ever downwards.

  'Got you now!'

  She didn't bother trying to locate the owner of the voice. Instead, she slowed down, her feet hit the tarmacked lane and she came to a halt, her head cocked as she closed her eyes. The darkness intensified every small noise, every snap of a twig, every footfall.

  A few seconds later, she heard the unmistakable sound of heavy feet on the crushed-stone path. Opening her eyes, she waited, hands on hips, her face – devoid of emotion – watched the silhouette of the man materialise through the darkness, a hulking figure that strode towards her, his features gradually emerging through the gloom.

  He stopped ten feet away, his feet planted wide, his cheeks inflated as he blew out hard, his face coated with sweat.

  'You got nowhere to go now,' he gasped, taking two steps forward.

  The woman didn't move.

  He leered at her.

  'I thought you would be fast, but you're not fast enough, are you?'

  'You think?' she replied, her eyes suddenly igniting with hatred.

  'Come on, you know the score, I catch you and you give me my money back and I get to fuck you for free…'

  When the money was thrown towards him he blinked in surprise, watching the bank notes flutter to the wet tarmac.

  'It was never about money,' she said in a calm voice, hands resting on her narrow hips, her b
reathing steady now, her dark eyes watchful.

  The man looked at her in confusion and then he took a step closer, his big hands closing into fists.

  'I won, I get to claim the fucking prize.'

  The woman moved in a blur of shadowed speed, the man's eyes widened in surprise, his muscle-bound arms rising in defence, but then the knife slammed into him, the blade parting flesh and glancing off a rib before six inches of steel were buried to the hilt in his chest.

  His mouth opened and closed, trying to desperately drag air in, grasping arms reaching out, but the woman skipped back and watched as he swayed back and forth, then his legs buckled, and he slammed to his knees.

  He looked up at her with eyes that were stunned by what had happened, eyes flooded with fear… and something else. Realisation? She saw his face twist, his mouth opened but no words came out as the agony kicked in, his right hand quivered on the handle of the blade, his eyes now full of terror as he realised he was dying.

  As he toppled to the side, the woman moved forwards and crouched down, her eyes fixed on his bloodless, trembling face.

  'Here, let me help you with that,' she offered. Reaching out, she gripped the handle and pulled the blade free, inch by agonising inch.

  The man started to scream and then the sound was abruptly curtailed as the blade slid free and his lung collapsed. His mouth stretched wide as he tried to scream and draw air into his punctured body at the same time. His hands pressed tight to his chest, blood poured over his fingers before splattering to the rain-soaked ground.

  'I let you catch me, you moronic prick,' she snarled, her eyes flashing hatred, her voice heavy with derision.

  It took the man two minutes to die, the expression on her face never altered, part fury, part joy, as he took a final shuddering breath.

  Somewhere in the darkness a female tawny owl called out for a mate, a few seconds later a male answered the irresistible call. The woman's breath billowed out before dissipating into the night air, she could smell dark blood and something else. The smell of victory, the taste of vengeance. She smiled brightly before setting off walking along the lane with a purposeful spring in her step.

  Fifteen minutes later, she reached the car and climbed behind the wheel, slipping the key into the ignition she started the engine and clicked on the lights. The twin beams lanced out into the growing darkness, illuminating the vivid greens and browns of the surrounding woodland.

  Checking her reflection in the interior mirror she nodded.

  'Easy peasy,' she whispered, before driving away down the track.

  2

  Odette glanced around the corner of the rickety fence, the garden was overgrown with weeds, a bare lightbulb in the kitchen revealed three men sitting around a table littered with beer bottles and empty curry trays.

  'Anything?' Lasser whispered.

  'The Bunting brothers are there plus one other.'

  'Archer?'

  Odette shook her head as Lasser pressed the button on the two-way.

  'Is he there?' DCI Bannister asked, his voice full of the usual aggravation.

  'We can't see him from here,' Lasser replied. 'The Buntings are in the kitchen plus one unknown.'

  'We need Archer, not the bloody Buntings.'

  Lasser raised an eyebrow. 'I know, why don't I tap on the window and ask them nicely if they know where Archer is?'

  'Moron,' Bannister spat.

  Lasser grinned in the dark. 'What do you want us to do?'

  The silence stretched out for a few seconds. 'We'll be hitting the front door in one minute, if they try to get out of the back then you collar them.'

  'No problem,' Lasser said.

  'Is that excitement I hear in your voice, Sergeant?' Bannister questioned.

  'What do you mean?'

  'The thrill of possible violence and your voice goes up an octave.'

  Lasser looked at Odette who gave him a shrug and a smile.

  'I can always let them get away if you want?'

  'Just do your bloody job and be ready.'

  'Do you want to synchronise watches?' Lasser asked, the grin widening as he imagined the DCI's face glowing red with annoyance.

  'Considering you can't count above ten then that would be a waste of time,' Bannister fired back.

  Before Lasser could reply the two-way beeped and Bannister was gone.

  Odette spied around the fence again, the unknown man was on his feet, his fists planted on the table as he leaned forward, the Bunting brothers suddenly looking nervous.

  Lasser checked his watch and winced at the ache in his legs as he eased slowly upright, shaking the feeling back into his stiff limbs.

  'Colder than it looks,' he mumbled, slipping the two-way into his pocket.

  'I told you to wear a vest.'

  'Vests are for wimps,' he said.

  Odette saw the Bunting brothers leap to their feet and felt the tension inside crank up as they sprinted for the back door. Half a second later, it was flung open and light spilled out into the garden.

  'Here we go,' Odette hissed as the three men dashed out into the weed-infested garden, making a beeline for the back gate.

  She glanced back towards the house as Bannister ran from the kitchen, arms and legs flying, Spenner following closely behind.

  Odette took a deep breath, but then Lasser exploded from the cover of the fence. The Bunting brothers snapped their heads around, but Lasser ignored them and closed the gap on the unknown man. He reached him just as the figure had one hand on the gate, but before he could yank it open, Lasser slammed into him.

  'Fuck!' the runner bellowed a second before his face hit the wood, his nose leaving a smear of red on the peeling paintwork.

  Glancing over his shoulder, Lasser saw Bannister grab one of the brothers and hurl him into the privet hedge, the second one dipped under Spenner's outstretched hands and barged into Odette, sending her reeling backwards as he sprinted for the fence.

  With a grunt, Lasser spun his man around and drove his right knee between the man's legs, by the time he hit the deck Lasser was dashing across the garden.

  Bannister got there first, Marvin Bunting had one leg thrown over the fence, but the DCI grabbed his thrashing leg before yanking him back from the top. Bunting hit the ground hard, screaming as the splintered wood tore through his hands, and then Spenner landed on top of him, pinning his arms behind his back before slapping on the cuffs.

  Lasser glanced right, Odette was kneeling in the long, wet grass, her face etched with aggravation.

  'You OK?' he asked.

  She nodded sharply before pushing to her feet. 'I'm fine.'

  The DCI strode over to the privet hedge where Darrell Bunting sat sprawled half in and half out of the bush.

  'You're nicked, dickhead,' Bannister spat.

  Darrell glowered up at him before spitting out a globule of phlegm.

  The man by the gate groaned, both hands clutched to his throbbing man parts and then the gate crashed inwards – the timber clattering against his head as Shaun Rourke came bursting through the gate – knocking him sideways. The man was forced to remove one hand from its nursing duties to hold it against his sore head.

  'Put some cuffs on the bugger, Shaun,' Lasser said, fiddling with the cigarettes in his pocket.

  Rourke nodded, crouched down and hauled the man's arms behind his back.

  'Where's Archer?' Bannister asked as Spenner marched Marvin Bunting towards the house.

  'Tell 'em fuck-all, Daz,' Marv shouted as Spenner pushed him along.

  Darrell looked at his brother and nodded. 'You got that right, Marv,' he yelled back.

  'Who's your friend?' Bannister asked, looking to where Shaun Rourke was pulling the man to his feet, his face still warped with pain, his eyes flashing hatred at Lasser who smiled and winked.

  'Get fucked, you twat copper!' Darrell yelled.

  'You tell em, bruv!' Marv hollered before one last shove from Spenner propelled him into the house.

  Ba
nnister folded his arms and glared at the man. 'I want to know where Randal Archer is?'

  'Not a fucking clue.'

  'Come on, Bunting, you three are as thick as thieves, and…'

  'I'm saying nothing until I've seen my solicitor and then I'll be telling him how you broke into my house, my fucking house and assaulted the three of us.'

  'Blah, blah, blah,' Bannister said with a tired sigh. 'Now get up, you're under arrest.'

  'I can't fucking move, I think you broke my leg,' Darrell said with an evil glint in his eye.

  'Lasser, help Mr Cry Baby Bunting to his feet.'

  Lasser strode forward and suddenly Darrell Bunting found his legs worked perfectly, he looked nervously at Lasser who simply smiled at him.

  'See, your legs are fine, now let's get you back to the station then we can have a proper chat over a nice cup of tea,' Bannister said amiably.

  'Fuckers,' Darrell moaned as he traipsed back towards the house, Bannister gripping his elbow.

  Shaun Rourke followed, with the injured man shuffling along almost bent double.

  As soon as they vanished into the house, Lasser sparked up and blew smoke skywards.

  'Looks like more rain,' he said.

  Odette followed his gaze, the moon was fleetingly visible through a bank of cloud, the occasional star shone in the darkness.

  Shivering at the crisp air, she slipped her hands into her pockets.

  'Any ideas where Archer could be hiding?' she asked.

  Lasser shrugged. 'I'd have put money on him being here.'

  'He could have left town.'

  'Nah, people like Archer don't have the sense or the funds to up sticks and start a new life.'

  Odette thought about what he was saying, Randal Archer was a lowlife, small-time drug dealer who also doubled as a snitch if the price was right. The fact that he had survived this long was a miracle considering the circles he moved in.

  'Do you think he'll know anything about Minnie Burrows?' she asked.

  Lasser took another pull on the cigarette, his dark eyes narrowed. Minnie Burrows had been found a week earlier, battered to death on a stretch of roadside wasteland. She had been twenty-six, a mother of two small kids, the suspicion was that she had been on the game to supplement her meagre benefits.

  'Archer knows more than most about the working girls considering he spends all his money paying them for sex.'

  'That doesn't mean he'll be clued up about any of this.'

  'I've known him for years, even when he doesn't have the cash he'll still spend time trawling the streets making a nuisance of himself.'