Open Wounds by Douglas Skelton sampler
Davie McCall is tired. Tired of violence, tired of the Life. He's always managed to stay detached from the brutal nature of his line of work, but recently he has caught himself enjoying it. In the final instalment in the Davie McCall series old friends clash and long buried secrets are unearthed as McCall investigates a brutal five-year-old crime. Davie wants out, but the underbelly of Glasgow is all he has ever known. Will what he learns about his old ally Big Rab McClymont be enough to get him out of the Life? And could the mysterious woman who just moved in upstairs be just what he needs?
Davie McCall is tired. Tired of violence, tired of the Life. He's always managed to stay detached from the brutal nature of his line of work, but recently he has caught himself enjoying it.
In the final instalment in the Davie McCall series old friends clash and long buried secrets are unearthed as McCall investigates a brutal five-year-old crime.
Davie wants out, but the underbelly of Glasgow is all he has ever known. Will what he learns about his old ally Big Rab McClymont be enough to get him out of the Life? And could the mysterious woman who just moved in upstairs be just what he needs?
You also want an ePaper? Increase the reach of your titles
YUMPU automatically turns print PDFs into web optimized ePapers that Google loves.
14 douglas skelton<br />
‘Are you off your head? I can’t!’<br />
Jimsie lost his patience suddenly and screamed, ‘Make up your<br />
mind or so help me I’ll use both!’<br />
There was silence while Jimsie held out the shotgun and the<br />
razor. Henry looked from one item to the other, before glancing at<br />
McCall in a mute appeal for help. But the moment had passed.<br />
McCall simply stared back at him. The lawyer gave his would-be<br />
lover a pleading stare, but the look in Bridget’s eyes told him she<br />
was ready to emasculate him with her bare hands. Sweat beaded<br />
on his forehead and his upper lip, but it had nothing to do with<br />
the temperature. Finally, Henry closed his eyes, swallowed hard<br />
and said, almost in a whisper, ‘The legs.’<br />
Jimsie nodded, took a couple of steps back. ‘Wise choice.’<br />
He didn’t give Henry the chance to reconsider. He levelled<br />
the 20-gauge, and pulled the trigger once, then again to discharge<br />
both barrels. Henry shrieked as his legs were blasted away from<br />
under him and he clutched at the wounds as if he could hold back<br />
the pain. McCall let go of the woman, expecting her to help the<br />
injured man somehow, but she merely stood over him, her eyes<br />
leaking fury and hatred, her mouth a snarl as she spat one word.<br />
‘Bastard!’<br />
Jimsie closed the razor, shoved the shotgun under his coat<br />
again and smiled over at McCall. ‘Ain’t love grand?’<br />
They didn’t waste any time getting out of the flat and back to the<br />
car. The shotgun blasts would’ve attracted attention and they got<br />
away from the street as fast as they could without drawing any<br />
more. They were confident that neither Henry nor Bridget would<br />
give the police any useful information. In their world, that was not<br />
done. As he drove, Jimsie rattled a spirited drumbeat on the steering<br />
wheel with his hands. McCall watched him, his eyes expressionless.<br />
‘What a rush, eh, McCall?’ The young man’s voice was filled<br />
with glee and his eyes sparkled.<br />
McCall’s voice was soft. ‘Whose idea was that?’<br />
‘What? The choice thing? That was mine. Big Rab just wanted
Change language