January Read Online Free

and Hound a little before one but had no doubt Chris would already be there, most likely
feeding a stream of pound coins into the fruit machine, already half-cut.
    Kitkat crossed the road, thrusting his hands deeper into his pockets as he turned into a headwind.
    New year, same old Manchester weather.
    As he went over the bridge spanning the canal, Kitkat upped his pace, wanting to get out of the maelstrom. He was about to cross another road when there was a squeal of tyres. Kitkat turned too
late as metal doors clanged open. Before he could say anything, something walloped into the side of his head, a glancing blow but enough to send him stumbling. He was on his knees, blinking away
the stars as something was stuffed into his mouth. Before he could think of fighting back, his wrists were clamped together, stiff plastic ties cutting into his skin. Everything was over in an
instant as something was looped over his head, leaving him in darkness as he was bundled sideways into what he assumed was a van. There was another screech of wheels and then he found himself being
flung backwards, landing painfully with only the rucksack cushioning his fall.
    Kitkat wanted to yell but his mouth was full of a sock or something similar. He was no fighter but had grown up in an area in which everyone had to know how to look after themselves. In this
instance, he’d not even been given a chance.
    He knew he had to find a way to remain calm, concentrating on what he could feel and hear. His wrists were in agony from what he assumed were cable ties digging into his flesh, but the hood over
his head hadn’t been fastened and he could at least breathe. He took a deep gasp, holding the air at the top of his throat and focusing. There was a mumbling of voices – male voices
– but nothing distinctive enough for him to make out either precise words, or the tone of his kidnappers. His legs were free but there wasn’t much he’d be able to do with his eyes
covered. If he lashed out, the best that could happen was that he’d catch someone who would then beat the crap out of him.
    The floor of the vehicle bobbed up and down through Manchester’s potholes, the metal cold through his clothes. Kitkat took another breath, fighting the instinct to panic. If these people
really
wanted to hurt him, they’d already be doing so given that he was largely defenceless. The fact they’d not done that yet meant they had plans for him. He was being taken .
. . somewhere. He wasn’t naive – it surely had something to do with the money he’d stumbled across. Was one of his assailants the actual owner? If so, why hadn’t they simply
asked
him about the money?
    A chill flittered along Kitkat’s spine as another thought occurred to him. What if Chris had told Clarkey about the windfall? Chris was immature but harmless enough on his own; Clarkey was
a full-on idiot. He had fingers in all sorts of pies and knew many types of dangerous people. Perhaps he owed the wrong person and, instead of paying off his own debt, he’d passed on the fact
that Kitkat had come into money. That prospect was altogether more worrying.
    Whoever was driving ground their way through the gears, crunching to a halt and then accelerating again. Kitkat bumped up and down. He could sense others nearby but nobody said anything to him.
For now, he’d have to bide his time, waiting for an opportunity which, if it came, would allow him to run. He might not be a fighter, but he was sure as hell a runner.
    He had no idea how long passed but Kitkat felt every thump from the uneven road. In failing to fill the endless sea of potholes, Manchester City Council was not only messing up people’s
cars, it was endangering kidnap victims dumped on the bottom of vans.
    Kitkat grunted as his head thwacked into the metal for the fifth or sixth time before, mercifully, the engine died. He heard metal doors sliding open and was then hauled to his feet. A
man’s voice muttered ‘walk’ as