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One More Chapter
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First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020
Copyright © Caz Finlay 2020
Cover design by HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020
Cover images © Shutterstock.com
Caz Finlay asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008340704
Ebook Edition © 2020 ISBN: 9780008340698
Version: 2020-05-21
Table of Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
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
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Chapter 69
Chapter 70
Chapter 71
Chapter 72
Chapter 73
Chapter 74
Chapter 75
Chapter 76
Chapter 77
Chapter 78
Chapter 79
Chapter 80
Chapter 81
Chapter 82
Chapter 83
Chapter 84
Chapter 85
Chapter 86
Chapter 87
Chapter 88
Chapter 89
Chapter 90
Chapter 91
Chapter 92
Chapter 93
Chapter 94
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Also by Caz Finlay
About the Author
About the Publisher
For my wonderful Mum, whose love of reading inspired my own. And my equally wonderful dad, John.
And as always, for Finlay, Jude and James.
Prologue
The large man’s brow furrowed. ‘Fucking bastards!’ he shouted, spittle flying from his mouth as he ended the call, slamming his smartphone onto the desk in front of him.
Liam McGuinness jumped, spilling his cup of coffee onto his new jeans. ‘For fuck’s sake, boss,’ he snapped as he leaped out of his chair. ‘These cost me three hundred quid.’
His boss glared at him in response.
Liam placed his cup onto the desk. ‘What’s up?’ he asked, realising the cost of his designer jeans was inconsequential to the raging man in front of him.
‘Our container has gone missing. That’s what’s fucking up,’ he growled.
Liam’s mouth dropped open. ‘What? That’s the second one this month.’
‘I know, soft-shite.’
‘You know who’s behind it, don’t you?’
His boss nodded furiously. ‘Cheeky little fucker. Who the hell does he think he is?’
Liam snorted. ‘He’s an arrogant little prick. He’d be no one without Mummy and Daddy’s name behind him. It’s about time someone taught him what happens to little boys who think they’re big men.’
The boss slammed his large fist onto the desk, sending Liam’s coffee cup tumbling to the floor. ‘He’s cost me near on six hundred grand. I don’t care what his name is, he’s a fucking dead man walking,’ he snarled.
Liam smiled. It was about time they stood up to this little prick. If they were going to be the top dogs, then they had to have the balls to take out their main competition, no matter who they were. There was no room in Liverpool for all of them. When that arrogant little shit had walked onto the scene, his name alone had sent shockwaves through the Liverpool underworld. People had automatically fallen in line, as though he was the heir to the fucking throne.
But Liam knew what he really was. A spoiled little boy who was still tied to his mummy’s apron strings and who would never be half the gangster his father was. Now that his parents were out of the way, it was the perfect time to make a move.
Liam’s boss wasn’t from Liverpool, but he knew of the family by reputation. Between them, Grace Sumner and Nathan Conlon had practically ruled Liverpool for years. There was a time when people dared not take a shit without the okay from one of them. And now their son, Jake, had taken up their mantle, although he didn’t quite have the same clout as his parents, and in Liam’s opinion he never would. Despite Liam’s best efforts to persuade him otherwise, his boss had been too cautious to take Jake on. Liam didn’t understand why. It wasn’t as though he was against getting his hands dirty. The first job he’d taken Liam on had been to get information from a dealer who’d been involved in trying to rip him off. The lad had given up his co-conspirators before they’d laid a finger on him, but his boss had tortured him to death just for the hell of it. It sent a message. That was how he operated.
Liam smiled as he watched his employer taking out the knuckledusters and corkscrew from his desk drawer – it meant their evening was about to get a whole lot more interesting. The boss was pissed off and some poor sod was about to feel his wrath.
‘What are we gonna do then?’ Liam asked.
The big man stared at him. ‘Tonight we’re going to pay the McHughs a visit. They’re a day late paying me and my patience has worn incredibly thin. As for our other problem, all in good time, lad. But mark my words, Jake Conlon will rue the fucking day he ever tried to mess with me.’
Chapter 1
Grace Sumner smiled at her sleeping daughter as she laid her down in her cot. Belle’s dark curls sprawled around her head like a halo. She looked so peaceful. Eight months old and the image of her father. So much so, that sometimes looking at her daughter’s face made Grace’s stomach contract.
The sound of Grace’s mobile phone ringing in the next room snapped her from her quiet reflection. Hurrying out of Belle’s bedroom and into her own, she snatched the offending item from her bedside table. In her eagerness to prevent the noise from waking Belle, she’d already swiped right on the screen to answer when she noticed it was a withheld number. Probably another bloody arsehole asking about the car accident I haven’t had!
‘Hello?’ she snapped.
‘Hello, Grace.’
She recognised the thick Mancunian drawl immediately. Her insides lurched and she contemplated hanging up without speaking another word.
‘Sol,’ she said instead. ‘How the hell did you get this number? And what do you want?’
She heard his throaty laugh before he responded. ‘I’ve always loved your fire, Gracie. It’s such a shame we never got together, don’t you think?’
No, she thought but didn’t say. Solomon Shepherd was a former business associate of hers from Manchester. He dealt in drugs and weapons mostly, which Grace had supplied him with on many occasions. She got on well enough with him, but he had an ego the size of Saturn. ‘What do you want, Sol?’ she sighed.
‘Look, Grace, we’ve always got on well. We do good business. That’s why I’m doing you the courtesy of phoning you about this …’
‘About what? Just get to the point, will you?’ She was not in the mood for his dramatics.
‘Okay, don’t get your fucking knickers in a twist,’ he barked. ‘Things have gone tits up since you pissed off. You need to get back home and get your fucking house in order.’
‘What?’
‘You heard me. I don’t know what the fuck is going on over there in la-la-land, but it’s causing me no end of aggro. So, fucking sort it.’
‘Look, Sol. You know I’m out of that game now. It’s Michael you need to be speaking to.’
‘I know you’re out of it. That’s my fucking point. Michael Carter is too fucking stupid to know when he’s onto a good thing. He’s let everything go to shit. Someone else has taken over. I don’t know him, but from what I can gather, he’s a fucking weapon who doesn’t know his arse from his elbow. He’s losing merchandise left, right and centre, and it’s disrupting my supply chains.’
Grace frowned. Michael Carter had once been her right-hand man. She had left her considerable empire in his capable hands. He was as hard as they came. So why had he let someone else take over? Shaking her head, she remembered that she was well out of it all now. ‘I still don’t get what any of this has to do with me, Sol.’
‘Oh, yeah, that. Well, that kid of yours is involved somehow as well.’
‘Jake?’ Grace said as she felt a sudden sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘Yeah. Playing at being a gangster. Stepped right into Daddy’s shoes. Trouble is, Daddy’s shoes are far too big for him. I’ve had the filth sniffing round me because of his fucking incompetence. Because he’s your son, I’ve let it go. But I will not do that again, Grace.’
‘What are you on about Sol? Jake’s not running that kind of business.’
Sol laughed. ‘Are you kidding me? You really are out of touch, aren’t you? You’re living in cloud cuckoo land, Grace, and you need to get your head back in the game before that lad of yours ends up with a bullet in his.’
Grace felt like someone had punched her in the stomach. ‘But Jake—’ She swallowed, struggling to talk and breathe at the same time.
‘But fucking nothing. He’s in way over his head. Not a fucking clue what he’s doing. There’s more to this game than running about sticking guns in people’s faces – as you well know. Look, I’m only telling you this because we’ve got history and I thought you deserved to know. Rein him in, Grace, before someone else does.’
Grace’s head spun. What the hell was Sol on about? What the hell was Jake involved in, and why hadn’t he mentioned anything when she’d spoken to him that morning? Or any other morning? She needed answers, and fast.
‘Thanks for the heads up, Sol.’ She hung up the phone.
Grace’s legs buckled beneath her. She landed on her bed in a seated position. Dear God! Jake! Her poor, sweet baby boy. What had she left him to?
The murder of Nathan Conlon, her ex-husband and Jake’s father, had been a shock to the Liverpool underworld, throwing the cat amongst the proverbial pigeons and causing some unrest while the various factions jockeyed for position in the new world order. For Grace, it had signalled the perfect time to get away. So, that’s exactly what she’d done – moving to the sleepy village of Harewood, where the most exciting thing that ever happened was a heated debate at a parish council meeting. She’d been convinced that it would be enough to protect Jake and keep him away from the life she and his father had chosen. She’d been furious with him when he’d declared he was dropping out of university to run his father’s seedy little nightclub, The Blue Rooms. But, full of the arrogance and naiveté of a twenty-year-old boy, he’d refused to listen to a word she said. ‘Why do a business degree when I can run my own business, Mum?’ he’d said with that lovable, lopsided grin on his face.
She’d refused to return to Liverpool with him. She couldn’t. There was Belle to think of. But she’d been a fool to believe that Jake wouldn’t get sucked into that world. After all, she and Nathan were his parents. She’d stupidly believed him when he’d promised to make The Blue Rooms into a legitimate business to be proud of. God, she’d been so bloody blind.
So, now what?
She had to go back, of course.
Feeling the bile rising in her throat, she swallowed it down. How would she keep her little secret now? She couldn’t, could she? It was impossible. And when it all came out, well, all hell would break loose.
Chapter 2
Lifting Belle from her car seat, Grace looked up at the second-floor window of the three-storey house in Canning Street to see Marcus Holden waving at her, a smile plastered across his face. He motioned his hand to indicate he was buzzing her in.
After carrying Belle up the two flights of stairs to Marcus’s flat, Grace placed her sleeping charge on Marcus’s large sofa, surrounded by pillows.
‘I’ve missed you,’ Marcus said, his eyes brimming with tears as he embraced her. ‘I’m so glad you’re back.’
‘I’ve missed you too,’ Grace said as she hugged him. ‘Although I’m not so happy to be here,’ she said as she untangled herself from his embrace.
‘Well, no, I suppose not.’ He shook his head. ‘Not in the circumstances. You look shattered. How about a brew before you fill me in on everything?’
‘That would be great.’
‘You take a load off then,’ he said indicating his plush sofa. ‘And I’ll stick the kettle on.’
Sighing, Grace took a seat near Belle. A traffic jam on the M62 meant she’d been driving for over four hours. She’d been hoping to have Belle home and tucked up in bed by eight, but instead it was after nine and she was only just arriving at Marcus’s flat to pick up the keys to her house.
Marcus Holden was Grace’s oldest and closest friend. He’d been the manager of her pub, The Rose and Crown, before it had been burned to the ground. He was one of the few people who even knew where she lived in Harewood, and he’d visited her and Belle there at least a dozen times. He’d been looking after her house in Formby for her and had been acting as a property manager for the tenants Grace had found. How fortunate it was that they’d moved on a few weeks earlier, or Grace would have had to rent a new place herself.
A few minutes later, Marcus came back into his living room carrying two mugs of tea.
‘Thanks,’ Grace said as she took the drink from him.
‘So, how are you, Grace?’ Marcus asked. ‘Apart from tired, that is?’
Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t know, to be honest. Annoyed. Angry. Terrified.’
She hadn’t told Marcus the full extent of Jake’s troubles, partly because she didn’t know yet herself, but also because Marcus had always stayed away from that side of her business and had no place in that world as far as Grace was concerned. It was one of the reasons she’d allowed him to visit her, that and the fact she adored him and missed him like crazy.
Marcus shook his head too. ‘So what are you going to do?’
‘The first thing I need to do is to find out what’s been going on while I’ve been away. And then I need to speak to that lad of mine and find out what the hell he’s playing at.’
‘Hmm.’ Marcus sipped his tea.
‘On that note. Could you do me a favour?’
‘Anything.’
‘Would you mind staying with me for a while and looking after Belle while I sort some stuff out?’
‘Hmm.’ Marcus tilted his head as though considering her offer. ‘Stay in your gorgeous five-bedroomed house with a home cinema and look after the most incredible little girl in the world? Of course, I will.’ He laughed. ‘I’ll just drink this and then I’ll pack a bag.’
‘Thanks. You’re a legend,’ Grace smiled. She didn’t know what she’d do without him.
Grace felt Marcus staring at her and knew what he was thinking. Apart from Jake, it was all she’d thought about too.
‘So what about your other little problem?’ he finally asked.
Grace sighed. ‘I have no idea. It’s bound to come out, isn’t it?’
‘Not necessarily,’ he said.
Grace raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Don’t try and make me feel better. How the hell can I keep up the pretence now? It was different while I was in Harewood. But now that I’m back here …’
‘It will be difficult, but we’ll think of something,’ he said softly.
Grace shook her head. ‘He’s going to find out, Marcus. And then the shit will really hit the fan. It’s going to be fucking awful.’
Marcus didn’t respond. Probably because he knew she was right.
Chapter 3
The tyres of Grace’s car crunched on the gravel as she pulled into the driveway of the expensive detached house. She’d settled Belle into her new room and left Marcus babysitting and deciding which bedroom to stake his claim on. It was after midnight and the streets of Mossley Hill were deserted. Only a few amber streetlights buzzed and flickered overhead. Walking up the ornate stone steps, she knocked on the large wooden door and, a few moments later, listened to the sound of the heavy bolts being drawn back. Then the door opened barely an inch and a beady blue eye peered through the crack above the safety chain.
‘Jesus Christ, Ivan,’ Grace said with a laugh. ‘You know it’s me. I just bloody phoned you. Is there any need for the Fort Knox level security? Now let me in, it’s frigging freezing out here.’
The door opened to reveal Ivan Golding’s smiling face. ‘You can never be too careful, Grace,’ he said. ‘You of all people should know that.’
‘Who on earth would try and take you on, you daft old sod?’ She grinned as she stepped inside his lavish hallway and pulled him into a hug.
Ivan Golding had been Grace’s accountant for years and was one of the few people she considered a good friend. She’d kept in limited phone contact with him since she’d left Liverpool, but seeing his round, pleasant face, his grey hair perched jauntily on top, she realised just how much she’d missed him.
‘It’s so good to see you, Grace,’ he said. ‘It’s been too long.’
‘You too, Ivan.’ She smiled at him as she took a step back. ‘Now how about a cuppa and you can fill me in on all that’s been going on since I left?’
‘It’ll take more than a cuppa, love,’ he said with a flash of his eyebrows. ‘It’ll take a whole bleeding urn!’
Grace followed him down his thickly carpeted hallway into his kitchen. Ivan always did have a flair for drama, but he was a shrewd businessman who had his ear to the ground and knew the ins and outs of almost everyone’s business in Liverpool. And if he didn’t know, he had the means to find out. As soon as she’d recovered her senses after her phone call from Sol, Grace had phoned him and asked him to start making some enquiries. She was sure, if anyone could fill her in on what had been going on with Jake, then Ivan could.
***
Sipping her fourth mug of tea since her arrival in Liverpool a few hours earlier, Grace listened as Ivan started to fill her in on some of the comings and goings of the Liverpool underworld over the last eighteen months.
‘So Michael’s not running my old operations anymore then?’ Grace asked.
Ivan shook his head. ‘Doesn’t have that much to do with the drugs scene now.’
‘But why?’ Grace didn’t understand it. She had left a well-oiled machine in Michael Carter’s very capable hands. He’d been onto a great earner. Why would he give it all up?
Ivan took a sip of his tea. ‘He’s branched out into security instead. Him and his two lads. They seem to be doing well for themselves too. Doing the doors for most of Liverpool now.’
‘But still …’
‘You know Michael, Grace. He’s all muscle and aggro.’
‘But he’s not stupid. I’d never have left him in charge if he was.’
‘No.’ Ivan shook his head. ‘I never said he was stupid, but he’s just not cut out for running the show. He prefers being in the thick of it, doesn’t he? He can do that with the security.’
‘I suppose so. So, who is running my old operations?’ she asked.
‘Some newcomer called Bobby White has taken over part of it. The rest, well …’
‘Jake.’ Grace sighed. ‘So, Michael let Jake take over my old business? My son? The fucking bastard. He knew how I felt about Jake getting caught up in all that.’ Grace shook her head. She could happily wring Michael Carter’s neck for allowing her son to get sucked into the world she had fought so hard to keep him away from. Despite everything that had happened between them, she had trusted Michael to have her back. More fool her.
Ivan shook his head frantically. ‘No, no. That’s not how it happened. Michael walked away, and it left a vacuum. You know how it works. And Jake had the means to step into it, at least a part of it anyway.’
‘But how? He’s a kid, for God’s sake!’ Grace felt her pulse starting to race. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears. The thought of Jake in trouble – and not just any kind of trouble, but the type that could put him in serious danger – made her want to throw up. She could hardly think straight for the thoughts racing around her head.
‘He’s also your son, Grace. And Nathan’s,’ Ivan said, snapping her back to the present. ‘His name alone ensured there was a place at the table if he wanted it. And he didn’t just inherit Nathan’s club, he inherited his workforce too. You know as well as I do that most of those lunatics couldn’t wait to get back into the game.’
‘Jesus Christ.’ Grace put her head in her hands. ‘I threw him to the lions, didn’t I? He’s not even twenty-one yet and I let him come back here on his own.’
Ivan placed his hand on hers. ‘Don’t say that, Grace. You have your own life to lead. He didn’t have to get involved. He wanted to.’