Vendetta

Edie Baylis

Description

The BRAND NEW gripping gangland thriller from bestselling author Edie Baylis!

Who can you trust?

Once bitter enemies, Samantha Reynold and Seb Stoker's powerful alliance enables their firms and casinos to go from strength to strength. With the families no longer in opposition, it seems that Sam and Seb are untouchable…

But not everyone is happy with the new power couple of the club world.

Unbeknownst to everyone, someone new wants to see Sam’s perfect life ruined. And they will stop at nothing to seek their revenge – even if it means destroying everything - and everyone - in their path.

With tensions high, Sam and Seb must put their trust in each other completely. But can they trust those closest to them? Or do they have a vendetta of their own?

A gripping new gangland story perfect for fans of Kimberley Chambers, Heather Atkinson and Caz Finlay.

What people are saying about Edie Baylis!

'From start to finish, fast paced and gripping. Gangland fiction at its best! Bestselling author Kerry Kaya.

'Shocking and thrilling at the same time. It will take your breath away!' Bestselling author Gillian Godden

'Edie Baylis has produced another fantastic gangland read. I loved the characters and was gripped from the first page. A massive 5 stars!' Bestselling author Caz Finlay.

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Thriller
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Women Sleuths
• Thrillers
• Women
• Coming of Age
• Suspenso
• Friendship
• Domestic
• General officer
• Woman
• Psychology
• Organized crime
• The Women
• City Life
• General
• Crime
• Family Life
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 01 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781802801781
• Langue: English

Extrait

VENDETTA


EDIE BAYLIS
For Jess – my fellow Scorpio and friend
CONTENTS



Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Epilogue


Acknowledgments

More from Edie Baylis

About the Author

Peaky Readers

About Boldwood Books
PROLOGUE
19 JANUARY 1996

Dan Marlow didn’t hide his wish to catch the barman’s eye through the hatch specifically placed for shouting orders. It always paid to appear chilled out and not too intent on the job in hand. It might make him look a prize mug not having his eye on the ball, and although most people might have an aversion to making out they weren’t the brightest spark, Dan did not. Doing it this way was what pulled the cash in.
‘Another pint, please,’ he shouted in the direction of the miserable stocky man serving the punters in the main room.
Putting away plenty of drinks was always noted too – it lulled people into a false sense of security, allowing them to assume he was half-cut.
Dan inwardly grinned. He’d got this down to a tee, but in all fairness, he’d have been happy to give this particular sit-down tonight a miss. He and Mickey had done okay for themselves around the London pubs this month, so he’d have preferred not to push his luck.
For the third time, they’d cleaned up with bells on at the Joiners Arms and their reputation in Clapham was now sailing too close to the wind to be comfortable, hence they’d had to venture further afield. Not so far afield, mind – Streatham, to be precise. But far enough away from Clapham to slow the speed of the grapevine.
South London might be a big area, but nevertheless, it was important to take this one slow, so as not to arouse suspicion.
He glanced at the intent faces around the separate room at the back of the Bricklayers Arms. There was a shedload of money up for grabs tonight, which was why Mickey had insisted they come. Personally, Dan would have preferred to wait a while longer, but what he thought rarely counted.
Dan nodded his thanks as his fresh pint was placed on the hatch, ignoring that the sullen barman sloshed two inches of his beer onto the stained wooden shelf. This would be the last drink, anyhow.
Chucking his cigarette end on the floor, Dan ground it out with his heel.
He’d pulled in a couple of small wins tonight, making sure to lose more than he’d won until the last minute, as previously agreed. Everything was going to plan. Now, seeing Mickey’s barely imperceptible blink to signify the off, he waited for the cards to be dealt.
The odds had raised to a level where it was all or nothing, so it was a good job Dan knew he would clear up. Mickey was so good with his sleight of hand, so bloody expert, even knowing what would happen, Dan was yet to physically see it. The man was a genius – an absolute fucking genius.
Dan covertly scanned the huge pile of notes in the centre of the scuffed table. There was only him and one other player left – an old bloke sweating so much he looked a prize candidate for a coronary.
Knowing all eyes were on him, Dan mirrored the old man’s flash of worry on his own face as he glanced at his cards. It never paid to look confident, and he didn’t much like the look of several of the people here who had already been forced to fold.
Dan concentrated on the one remaining player and sat tight as Mickey worked his magic, dealing from the bottom of the pack.
The opponent picked up his cards, his slight flinch giving Dan all the information he needed to know. The guy was fucked.
He slapped his cards face down on the table and scooped up the pile of money. ‘Think this is mine,’ Dan grinned, standing up. ‘Cheers, fella. That’s me done for tonight!’
He’d contain his glee for just a while longer until he met up with Mickey at the prearranged spot down the road. All he had to do now was leave, which shouldn’t be difficult.
Mickey gathered the cards up. ‘Another game, anyone?’
A squat man with a long scar down the left-hand side of his face pushed himself away from the wall and snatched the remains of the deck out of Mickey’s hand. ‘Let’s just check these.’
Dan froze. What the fuck was this? He glanced at Mickey, who appeared outwardly unruffled.
The man spread the cards on the table. ‘I’ve heard about you two from the Pig and Blanket,’ he snarled. ‘Yep, look! Just as I thought. This wanker has been dealing from the bottom!’
As the other men’s faces twisted with rage, Mickey upended the table as a diversion. There had always been a get-out plan in the event of this happening. They’d never needed it before, but they sure as hell needed it now.
Seeing Mickey already exiting out of the small back room in the confusion, Dan started towards the door.
Slipping on the loose cards scattered on the floor, he lurched forwards and as a meaty hand closed around the back of his neck, dragging him back into the room, he could do little about it.
Shit.
Dan’s mind raced. ‘Wait! It’s not what you think. I…’
‘What about the other one?’ someone yelled.
The heavy-set man with his hand around Dan’s neck cast him to the beer-drenched floor. ‘I don’t give a toss about him. This fucker’s the one with our money!’
Dan grinned, even though there was a boot across the front of his neck holding him still. ‘No hard feelings, boys.’ By pretending none of this was happening, he remained calm as his pockets were rifled through, relieving him of his winnings. ‘You’ve got your money back now, so no harm done.’
The squat man leant over Dan’s prone form and snarled, revealing a gap at the front of his selection of stained teeth. ‘That’s what you think, cunt! You’ve pushed your luck one time too often around these parts. We don’t like cheats. I’ll make sure neither of you play anywhere around here again.’
Dan’s eyes widened as the man pulled a meat cleaver from his inside pocket. Shit, shit, shit! ‘Let’s not be hasty. You’ve got your money back now, so I…’
‘Hold the fucker still!’ the man snarled to the others in the room.
Dan struggled pointlessly, the grip on his arms and legs too strong. Seeing the meat cleaver rise, his eyes bulged. The last thing he lucidly recalled before the raging pain kicked in was watching with a strange, detached fascination as the fingers on his right hand were effortlessly removed.
1
ONE WEEK LATER

Marina Devlin glared at Dan downing another can of lager. She’d broached this subject several times, but he’d refused to discuss it. He’d refused to discuss anything this past week, and she was sick to the back teeth of it.
How she wished she’d walked away from Dan when she’d had the chance, rather than trying to prove the choice she’d made two years ago had been the right one.
She’d really liked Dan at first – really liked him – so she’d gone against everyone’s advice to steer well clear of him, including that of her brother, who had told her time and time again that Dan was a loser only out for himself.
Marina stubbed her cigarette out and scowled. Yeah, how she wished she’d listened to Grant. Dan was a loser. And not just a loser, but a loser with a gambling problem , as well as a self-inflated sense of his own ability.
Since this belated realisation, it had been one thing after another – each episode worse than the last, leaving her further trapped. Because if she walked away now, she’d have to admit that she’d been wrong.
And she wasn’t doing that.
Dan’s latest idea of becoming involved with Mickey Devlin – Marina’s good-for-nothing father – was the last straw.
And now this .
Marina’s eyes tracked to the grubby bandages on Dan’s hand and she shuddered. Getting his fingers cut off? How could he have allowed that to happen?
For God’s sake, Grant was right. Dan was a useless, deluded bastard and all that had kept her going this past year was scheming how she could get rid of him. And not just out of her life, but out of life in general .
It was all she could think about.
Grabbing her cigarettes, Marina sparked up another. She might as well smoke herself to death. Why couldn’t Dan have got himself killed, rather than just losing his fingers? At least it would save having to arrange it herself. Plus, as a broken-hearted girlfriend left without means, she’d be eligible for decent benefits.
That was about all she’d got going for her these days.
So much for London being paved with gold. Whoever coined that saying needed their head read!
‘Are you doing breakfast?’ Dan muttered, ash dropping from the end of his cigarette onto his bare chest. ‘Shit!’ he yelped, brushing it off with his good hand. ‘Unless you fancy relieving me of my frustration?’ He wrapped his arm around Marina’s waist, his morning erection pushing eagerly against the small of her back.
‘I’d best get up. Time’s getting on.’ Marina edged out of Dan’s grasp. Being around him made her skin crawl. How she hated him.
Getting out of bed, she pulled her dressing gown around her nakedness and tugged her long blonde hair from the neck of the robe.
She hadn’t slept a wink again last night and was still tossing and turning when dawn broke this morning. She was shattered. She had to do something about this situation.
Marina watched Dan fumbling to open another can of beer with one hand, sick of putting up with his pathetic excuses. ‘What are we going to do?’
‘It will be okay, you’ll see.’ Dan inwardly grimaced. Every blo