RIVAL
Jacqui Rose

Copyright

Published by AVON

A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2020

Copyright © Jacqui Rose 2020

Cover design Claire Ward © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2020

Cover photographs © Ofer XI/Getty Images (woman); Shutterstock.com (background)

Jacqui Rose 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 ebook on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, 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: 9780008366988

Ebook Edition © August 2020 ISBN: 9780008366971

Version: 2020-07-14

Dedication

To Jack Wimbleton

Epigraph

A common danger unites even the bitterest enemies.

Aristotle

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Three Months Ago

Chapter 1: Today

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

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

Also by Jacqui Rose

About the Publisher

THREE MONTHS AGO

‘Alfie? Alfie? Pick up the phone. For God’s sake, I know you’re there. I don’t know how many messages I’ve left, but we need to talk. Even if you’re still angry with me at least call me back … Please.’ Franny Doyle sighed as she cut off the call.

Despairing, she threw the phone on the white leather couch and took a large sip from the glass of Chardonnay she’d poured herself earlier. It was the same every time she tried to get through to Alfie. He’d just send it straight to voicemail … He was ghosting her, big time.

Walking across to the window of the front room of her large Georgian house in Soho Square, she looked out across the gardens, noticing the flickering of the street light.

It was late, gone midnight, and she could just make out a few passers-by as they hurried along the street through the rain and the cold. About to take another sip of her wine, Franny paused, the crystal wine glass resting on her lips. She was sure she’d just heard a noise coming from the hallway.

For a moment she stood still, wondering if it was just the sound of the wind hitting the gutter outside, which she’d neglected to get fixed. But no, there it was again.

Placing her glass on the hand-carved, black mantelpiece, Franny quietly walked towards the drawing room door as her heart began to race. She stopped at her silver bookshelf and as quickly and as carefully as she could, she slid her hand behind the row of the various first-edition hardbacks, pulling out a small handgun.

She could feel her heart racing faster as she gripped the gun and paused, listening once again before placing her hand on the solid brass door handle. She slowly began to open it, but the door was suddenly kicked open, sending Franny and the gun flying across the wooden floor.

Without bothering to look to see who it was, Franny scrambled desperately to reach the gun, but too late. She felt an agony in her hand as her fingers were crushed by the weight of someone’s foot. The next moment she heard a gruff, gravelled voice.

‘Hello, Franny; long time, no see. I’ve been meaning to come and visit you for a while, but you know how it goes, life gets busy. But hey, I’m here now.’

Face down, Franny let out a groan as the pain from the skin being torn open on her fingers rushed through her.

‘What’s that? Oh I’m sorry, Franny, am I standing on your hand? What a clumsy cunt I am. Is this better?’ The foot stamped down even harder, and this time, Franny let out an agonising yelp as her blood squirted across the floor.

‘You bastard!’

With a chuckle her hand was suddenly released and the next moment, Franny was staring a familiar face straight in the eye as he knelt down and glared at her. ‘That hand looks nasty; you need to make sure you put something on that. You don’t want to get it infected, do you?’

Sitting up and putting her hand underneath her armpit to try to stop the flow of blood, Franny gritted her teeth as she spoke. Her voice dripped with contempt. ‘Hello, Harry, if you’d wanted an invite, you should’ve just told me – you didn’t need to go to all this trouble. Cup of tea?’

Incensed by Franny’s attitude, he grabbed hold of her face, squeezing as hard as he could. ‘Listen to me, you silly bitch, you’re walking a very dangerous line and if I were you, I wouldn’t cross it.’

‘What do you want, Harry?’ Franny spat out.

‘I understand that you’ve still got a hit out for Vaughn Sadler, and you’re still looking for payback.’

‘That’s between him and me.’

‘Oh no, but it ain’t.’

Not wanting to show how much pain she was in to Harry, Franny took a deep breath before she spoke. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘I know that both you and Wan Huang have been wanting to have your day with Vaughn, but I’ve had a little talk with Wan. Made a deal. So, that’s why I’m here. Wanted to tell you in person.’

Franny stared at Harry, knowing that she wouldn’t like what she was about to hear. Though Harry was right, Wan Huang, the new head of the Triads – a notorious South East Asian gang – also wanted to put Vaughn Sadler in the ground, albeit for an entirely different reason than Franny, though it came down to the same thing: revenge. ‘My business with Vaughn is just that. My business.’

‘As I say, I’ve made a deal with Wan. He’s willing to let bygones be bygones, which means you’re going to do the same; you back away from Vaughn. So any ideas you’ve got to take him out, well they’re over now. Because now, he’s got me in his corner. So, if I hear – if I even get a fucking whiff – that you’re still planning to go after him, then, sweetheart, I’ll be coming after you. And when I find you, I’ll cut off those pretty fingers of yours one at a time, and after that, I’ll bury you a-fucking-live. You understand me?’ He got up and brushed down his expensive camel coat and smiled. ‘Anyway, best dash, Franny, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll leave that cup of tea. Maybe another time …’

TODAY
1

With the agonising sound of her own scream Tia Jacobs startled both herself and the disdainful-looking clerk of the court, who earlier in the morning had already shown his contempt for her as he’d stared at the short blue dress and black high heels she wore.

Not that it mattered now what he thought because that had been before. Before the judge had passed his verdict. The plain-looking man in the tired black robe with his pinched nose and overly dyed black hair, who had no idea what her favourite film was or why looking at the sea on an overcast day made her cry, had passed a judgement that would change her life forever.

Bent over, Tia wrapped her arms around her waist as if somehow it would stop the wailing sound that seemed to be resonating from every pore in her body. The only sight she could see through the pane of tears, which felt as if they were burning her face, was that of the out-of-focus passing shoes of the reserved British public, who, even when presented with a bent-over howling woman in the corridors of justice, still pretended all was well.

Suddenly, a pair of brown Gucci loafers brought Tia’s eyes and mind into focus; though it could, she thought, be just as likely that the overpowering and over-applied after-shave that attacked all her senses had cleared her mind.

But there was no need to gaze upwards. Tia knew exactly who’d be standing in those shoes, the sneering smugness fashioned on his face, which always made her recoil in an attempt at self-protection from the toxic words that always followed.

‘Stand the fuck up, Tia. You’re making a show of yourself. You’re a disgrace. I ain’t surprised the judge said what he did. One look at you, he knows exactly what you are. You’ve got a fucking screw loose, you know that?’

Standing up to look at her husband, Tia wiped her nose on the back of her sleeve. ‘You’re loving this, Harry, ain’t you? You got what you want. You won.’

Harry Jacobs stared at his wife and shook his head. The only emotion he felt at that moment was one of annoyance at the spectacle Tia was making of herself. If he stood in front of her any longer there was a strong possibility she’d snivel all over his favourite shoes.

Grabbing her arm tight enough for her to let out a little squeal, Harry snarled at his wife. ‘I was always going to win. I told you what would happen if you took me on, didn’t I? I told that you were wasting your time, but no, you had to be a silly cunt and go ahead and try it anyway. You’re my wife, Tia. Till death us do part, remember? But if you don’t want to honour that, well, you have to pay the consequences, sweetheart.’

This last statement was like a bucket of ice-cold water being thrown over Tia. She shook off his grip and glared at her husband, looking directly into the blue eyes that at one time she’d found so mesmerising.

He hadn’t aged that much over the years. At forty-four there was no middle age spread, no receding hairline, no lines around his eyes; he was as good-looking as he always had been, with the energy and body of a twenty-year-old man. He had it all: the looks, the money, the gift of the gab and the respect from all the other faces around Soho.

He had everything, everything except for a heart and she hated him for it, especially as it felt to Tia like he’d taken her heart away too.

She’d been brought up in a care home before being kicked out at the tender age of sixteen, having to turn tricks to make ends meet. And then out of what seemed like nowhere, she’d fallen head over heels in love and, stupidly, she’d thought she’d found her happy ever after.

But it hadn’t worked out and although it hadn’t been her choice to end the relationship, she’d consequently found herself back on the streets again. So when Harry had swept in, she’d thought all her troubles were behind her. Who had she been kidding – her troubles had only just started. At the time she’d wanted a roof over her head more than anything. She’d been vulnerable and she’d needed to be loved. And she supposed by then she certainly hadn’t been picky.

Harry had promised her the world and of course she’d leapt at the chance even though all the flags had been there. Right from the start he’d been jealous, controlling and had been handy with his fists, but being with Harry was better than being on the streets like some of her other friends who’d left the care home at the same time.

Though it hadn’t all been bad, especially at the beginning, and partly that had been the problem. Maybe it would’ve been easier to leave if at the beginning he’d been an out-and-out bastard, instead of saving it all for later.

They’d had laughs and they’d had times when they’d genuinely seemed to like each other and he’d bought her no end of presents and cars, but as the years rolled by the control, the jealousy, along with his cruelty, had become part of the fabric of her life.

Though if she were honest, those things alone wouldn’t have made her go to the extremes she had. She would’ve stuck it out as she had done for all these years, put up with it all, told herself she was better off than some. But then there’d been the final straw. The final betrayal had come just over six months ago, and even now she didn’t like to think about it, but it was that and that alone which made her pick up and leave.

‘Oh, believe me, Harry, I’ve been paying the consequences for long enough now, don’t you think?’

Hissing at Tia through his teeth, Harry grabbed hold of her arm again, pulling her down the corridor. ‘Ain’t you had enough of all the self-pity, Tia? You’ve stamped your feet enough now and wasted everybody’s time. You’re lucky I’m so understanding – most fellas I know would bury you in the nearest shallow grave and most men in my business wouldn’t even let you step into a court, let alone try to say the crap you did. But I let you, Tia. I let you get it all out of your system, so don’t give me the hard-done-by shit.’

Fighting back tears, Tia, not saying anything, shook her head as Harry barged into a couple coming the other way. Giving them a warning glare not to say anything, he continued to march Tia towards the exit as he spoke. ‘What the fuck did you think you were doing, that’s what I want to know? Leaving me and your home, then doing this shit. Why did you do it?’

Spinning around to look at him, she could hardly get the words out. ‘You know why I did it, you know why I left, and me going to court is because I wanted my kids.’

Leaning down to her, Harry whispered nastily in Tia’s ear. ‘Our kids, Tia. Don’t forget that. They’re our three kids. The way you talk, anyone would think I’m just some fucking sap paying for you, rather than your husband.’

With her hands shaking, Tia pulled out a cigarette from her denim jacket, finding it difficult to recall the judge’s exact comments; her head was spinning too much.

Her solicitors, for all the good they’d been, had told her she’d stood a chance, but in the end the judge had only listened to Harry’s lies and his expensive barrister, painting her to be someone she didn’t even recognise. Painting her to be an unfit mother.

‘Mrs Jacobs, after taking into account all the statements and hearing from both yourself and Mr Jacobs as well as understanding more about your background and financial set-up, I feel it’s in the children’s best interest to stay with their father. I award him full and sole custody with you having weekly visitation rights.’

Blowing out a mouthful of smoke, Tia spoke slowly and softly in the hope she wouldn’t lose control and start screaming again, because the next time she was afraid she’d never be able to stop. The pain in her voice clearly evident, she asked, ‘What am I going to do, Harry? What am I going to do without the kids?’

Wrapping his expensive Fendi scarf around his neck, Harry glanced at his wife; she was truly stunning, even with her swollen eyes and red nose from all the snivelling she had insisted on doing, her beauty still shone through. Her skin was pale, her face held the darkest yet softest brown eyes, and her lips were full and red, which made the most faithful of men imagine what she could do with them.

To look at her, you’d never think she’d had three children. Her figure was tight and curvaceous, not to mention her fabulous, enormous breasts, but for all this beauty, he thought she was a fool. A fool to waste everyone’s time and think that she could ever get custody of his kids and a fool to go up against him.

Though he’d stood back and let her do what she’d needed to do. And it’d actually amused him that she really thought she’d win. He’d let her think that she was getting somewhere, let her think that the solicitor she’d hired had been on her side, though the fact was her solicitor had been in his pocket, feeding him information, and as a result, he’d always been one step ahead of Tia.

Then when it’d come down to it, he’d made sure that his barrister had destroyed her. She hadn’t stood a chance. Not one shred of a chance.

So as predicted, here she was in front of him, crying like her life was over, asking him what she should do.

She needed him and always would and even if she didn’t, there was no way she was going anywhere.

Feeling the chill of the wind, he laughed as he put his powerful muscular arm around her shoulders, pulling her towards him as he led her down the stone stairs to the car park.

‘Look, Tia, I think I’ve always been pretty fair to you. I’ve just about managed to put up with all the crap you’ve thrown my way, though God knows a lesser man wouldn’t, including all that crazy shit at the beginning of the year. I’ve always been there for you—’

Interrupting, Tia snapped, ‘That’s crap, Harry – what you did, I hate you for it, so don’t try to pretend you were there for me. We both know the truth.’

‘There you go again, Tia, always pointing the finger at somebody else instead of taking a long hard look at yourself in the mirror. Isn’t losing the kids enough for you for one day?’

Without thinking, Tia swung her hand in the direction of Harry’s smug smile but he grabbed it and roared with laughter. ‘I love it when you get angry; it gives me a real hard on. What do you say to giving me a quick blow job?’

The tears that had been threatening to escape again cascaded down her cheeks like a sudden cloud burst. ‘I’m just a game to you, ain’t I? Just leave me alone, Harry. You heard what the judge said, you’ve got what you wanted.’

Softening his face but hardening his eyes, Harry came to a standstill in front of a blacked-out Range Rover. Unlovingly he kissed her on the cheek. ‘If you want the kids, Tia, you can have them. After all you’re their mum.’

Tia stared up at Harry. ‘What?’

‘You heard me, you can have them.’

With her heart beginning to race, Tia blinked away the last of her tears. ‘Don’t play with me, Harry. Don’t say that if you don’t mean it … They’re everything to me, you know that.’

He smiled, lighting up his handsome face. ‘I know, darlin’, that’s why I’m saying it. I just wanted to teach you a lesson, show you you went about it all the wrong way.’

Shaking, Tia nodded. ‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know what else to do.’

Harry smiled, opening the Range Rover door. ‘Good, well I’m glad we got that sorted out … Come on, get in.’

As quickly as Tia’s smile had appeared, it went. ‘What? What are you talking about?’

‘Home. Let’s go home.’

‘But …’

Harry sniffed, his blue eyes narrowing. ‘You want the kids don’t you?’

‘Yes, but …’

He smiled at her, showing off his perfect teeth. ‘We all come as one big happy family, Tia, you should know that by now. You want the kids, then you come home.’

Tia stood and watched her husband get in the passenger seat of the car. Her head was telling her to turn around and walk the other way, but her heart – the part that counted – was moving her feet in the same direction as her husband. This was another chance, a chance to be with her children once again and her love for them was greater than anything.

She’d tried to battle her husband and it’d taken everything out of her in doing so. Now she supposed it was time to concede; Harry Jacobs had won … For now anyway, because as she’d thought so many times in the past, he’d left her no choice; one day, she was going to pay him back. Oh yes, Harry would get his comeuppance all right even if she had to kill him herself. For now though, she’d play the game. If being a player was good enough for Harry, it was good enough for her.

And with the tears streaming down her face, Tia, having made up her mind, slid slowly into the back passenger seat but immediately froze as she stared at the driver whilst Harry spoke. ‘Ain’t you going to say hello, Tia? You know Vaughn, don’t you?’

With a tight smile, Tia nodded as she stared out of the window. She knew Vaughn Sadler all right, the problem was, she knew him too well.

2

‘Franny! Franny! We need your help! Quick, please, you’ve got to come!’

Putting down her phone on the side, Franny Doyle looked up at Sasha – who was no older than eighteen – standing shaking in the doorway, her face pale and drawn.

Shocked at how upset Sasha was, Franny spoke, concern in her voice. ‘What’s happened, darlin’?’

The girl shrugged, wiping the tears from her face. ‘I dunno really but Sophie’s ill. She’s vomiting. She was snorting some lines and then she just started convulsing.’

Without saying anything else, Franny nodded and jumped up, hurrying out of the office on the top floor of Foxy’s nightclub in Greek Street. She followed Sasha – who was one of the club’s newest recruits having only started working there seven months ago – down the stairs.

Getting to the lounge, Franny stopped and stared in horror, muttering more to herself than Sasha. ‘Jesus Christ.’ Then she rushed across the large, sparsely furnished whitewashed room to where Sophie was lying naked on the floor.

Straight away, Franny could see Sophie was fitting and her eyes were rolling to the back of her head, a combination of vomit and spit foaming out of her mouth.

Kneeling down, Franny gently lifted Sophie’s head onto her lap. ‘It’s okay, honey. It’s okay. I’m here. We’ll get you some help, darlin’.’ She turned to Sasha and barked out her order. ‘Phone an ambulance … Now!’

Still trembling and clearly in shock, Sasha nodded before disappearing out of the room. Turning her attention back to Sophie, whose breathing was becoming more and more staggered as her body violently convulsed, Franny moved her to the recovery position.

She brushed Sophie’s long fringe back from her face, which was sprinkled with flecks of cocaine and vomit. ‘It’s okay, darlin’, you’ll be all right. You hear me? Sasha’s calling the ambulance now. Hang in there, baby. Hang in there.’

Hearing a noise, Franny looked up and saw Sasha standing in the doorway with fear written all over her face.

‘Did you call them, Sash? How long did they say until they get here?’

Unable to look at Franny, Sasha shook her head. ‘No, I didn’t call them.’

‘What do you mean, you didn’t? Go and call them. Now! For fuck’s sake, Sash, she needs help! She’s dying, now go and get help!’

With tears in her eyes, Sasha mumbled, her whole body shaking. ‘I can’t call.’

Worried for Sophie, who was looking paler and bluer, Franny glared at Sasha. ‘I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about or what’s got into you, but you need to get an ambulance. Please, Sash, go! Go, call them!’

‘She won’t be doing that, Miss Doyle. No one’s calling anyone.’

Franny stared up at the man, who she knew only from sight but was aware was one of the owner’s henchmen, as he stepped into the room.

Franny snarled with anger and frustration running through her. ‘She might die. Do you understand? If she doesn’t get help soon, she is going to die!’

‘Then she dies, Ms Doyle. That’s what happens when you mess with drugs.’

As Sophie continued to convulse, Franny hissed through her teeth. ‘Phone the fucking ambulance, you hear me? She’s just a kid.’

The man, who spoke with a strong East End accent but was South East Asian by origin, pulled a face. ‘Not my concern. If she snorts that shit up like it’s on special offer, what do you expect?’

Placing Sophie’s head on the floor, Franny scrambled up and rushed towards the door.

‘You mean the shit that you feed her, because let’s face it, what you expect them to do would be really fucking hard if they weren’t out of their heads.’

The man glared at her, his brown eyes cold and menacing. ‘I’d be careful what you say.’

Franny shook her head. ‘Don’t even try to threaten me … Now get out of my way, cos if you won’t call for help, then I will.’

As she went to leave, the man blocked her way. ‘I don’t think that would be very wise, do you?’

‘I don’t care what’s wise. I ain’t your prisoner and I don’t work for you, so just get the fuck out of my way, so I can get her some help.’ Franny seethed.

‘What’s the problem, here?’ Wan Huang spoke in a soft London accent as he came into sight and walked along the corridor towards Franny.

Glancing at him, Franny said, ‘She needs help. I think Sophie must have overdosed, and this wanker won’t let me call for the ambulance.’

Hurrying across to Sophie, Wan – tall and handsome, in his early twenties – knelt down, leaning his head towards her. He stayed there for a few moments before Franny watched as he put his fingers on the pulse of her neck and then on the pulse of her wrist. He looked up, shaking his head. ‘It’s too late, Fran … I’m sorry, she’s dead.’

Sasha let out a piercing scream as Franny stared at Sophie lying motionless on the floor.

‘What? No! No! She can’t be! You must’ve got it wrong. She can’t be.’

‘She is, Fran, come and see for yourself.’

Unable to speak, Franny turned to the man standing at the door and without warning, slammed her fist into his face. ‘You bastard! She was only seventeen years old!’ Then she leapt at him, pummelling her fists into his head. She reached for her gun, which was hidden in her jacket, but it was too late, the man fought back and Franny found herself being pushed up against the wall.

‘That’s enough! Break it up! I said, enough!’ Wan shouted at the top of his voice as he dragged Franny off the man.

Without bothering to say anything else, she rushed down the stairs and out the exit to the fresh air, her heart breaking for Sophie and for Sasha who she could still hear wailing, and not for the first time she wondered how the hell it was she’d stepped into such a nightmare.

The past eight months had been an utter mess and that was putting it lightly. Everything had been well and truly screwed up. And the past three months had been even worse since the visit from Harry. After that, everything had become about collateral damage and her life now consisted of having to watch her back on top of not knowing who she was able to trust and wondering if she was going to make it through until tomorrow. And ultimately, it was all down to one person. Vaughn Sadler.

She’d needed to use all her powers of persuasion and negotiation skills not to find herself six feet under. Put there by the family and colleagues of Mr Huang, who’d been the head of a notorious South East Asian Triad gang. That was, of course, before Vaughn had put a knife through the back of his head.

At first the Triads had been all right but after Harry had started winding them up, stoking their fire, the finger of blame for Huang being killed had slowly begun to point towards her. Not because Wan and his associates thought that she’d actually killed him – they knew she hadn’t – but because it had been her who’d arranged for Vaughn to meet Huang at a secret location, and it was there it’d all gone wrong. Harry Jacobs had done a good job in stirring trouble for her.

And she was angry, so angry, because of course it was supposed to have been Vaughn with a knife in the back of his head or however Huang had decided to dispose of him on account of the fact that Vaughn had crossed her. The reason why she’d wanted Vaughn dead? He’d broken all the rules that they lived by; he’d snaked her out to the police by trying to frame her for a crime she didn’t commit.

So, it was only right that he had payback, only right that she paid Huang to do his worst. But clearly, his worst hadn’t been good enough.

When Huang had been killed, she’d expected his men to go looking for Vaughn, searching him out before chopping him into a thousand pieces. And they had … at first. But Vaughn had been smart; he’d sought protection from his long-term friend Harry Jacobs, who was not only a face, but also had a long, successful business history with the Triads. And she hated Harry nearly, nearly as much as she hated Vaughn.

Harry had always been well in with the Triads. He let them launder money through his clubs, provided weapons for them and used his network of contacts to bring cocaine and pills into the country.

Even so, she’d still been surprised and pissed off to say the least when Huang’s half-brother, Wan, the new head of the gang, had agreed – as long as Vaughn was under Harry’s wing – that they would leave Vaughn alone. Which meant he was untouchable for all concerned and that’s when the heat had come onto her, leaving Harry and Vaughn to be able to do what they liked, including nearly taking her fingers off a couple of months back.

But though Wan had history with Harry, something didn’t sit right. Why would he do a deal with Harry? Why would he essentially agree to let Vaughn off? It was true that Wan had hated his older brother and they’d never got along, but in her heart she knew that wouldn’t stop Wan, or any of his associates for that matter. Wan’s gang were hungry for blood, wanting to show everyone they weren’t to be crossed.

So, Harry or not, why did they allow Vaughn to still keep walking around? Something wasn’t right. There was more to it than met the eye, and she’d find out. Somehow. But for now, the irony was, it was her who had to watch her back. She didn’t trust Harry and she didn’t trust Vaughn, so a bullet in the back of her head was something she half expected.

And that’s why no matter how much she didn’t like it, no matter how much the things that Wan’s men did made her sick to her stomach, if she wanted to stay alive the only option she’d had was to play Vaughn at his own game by seeking protection from the other side. From Wan and the Triads themselves. Not that she trusted them either, but with Alfie refusing to contact her, what else could she do?

Though it had cost her. To get Wan and his men to watch her back she’d handed over her shares in the club she’d owned along with her business contacts. She’d also agreed, or rather she’d been forced to agree, to work for them as well.

But more expensive than that, it had cost her her self-respect. Grovelling apologies when she’d had to go to them begging, asking them to draw a line under what had happened to Huang. She’d been contrite, she’d agreed to their terms. She’d agreed to be someone she wasn’t. And yes, she felt bitter.

All the years of power she’d had and worked hard for, worked doubly hard for because she was a woman and she’d had to be more ruthless, more hardened, more inflexible than the men. The loneliness and the sacrifices she’d had to make over the years. And for what? For it all to be thrown away because of Vaughn Sadler.

Well, as her father had always taught her, revenge was a dish best served cold. And if it turned out that she had to wait – one week, one month, one year – she would serve that dish no matter what it took. Vaughn, Harry and Wan.

Now, as she thought about Sophie, a girl who’d only been working for the gang for the past few months after coming down from up north, she hated Vaughn even more for putting her in this position – powerless, vulnerable … two qualities she hated nearly as much as she hated him.

She breathed in deeply again, inhaling the Soho air, gasping for breath and closing her eyes as she leant over, resting her hands on her knees.

She pushed down the feeling that she wanted to cry and instead – as she had done so many times before – she turned it into the feeling of hatred. Revenge. Payback. Feelings she’d had so much of recently. And she vowed sooner, rather than later, she’d be once again back on top. And when that time came, not one person who’d crossed her would live long enough to regret it.

3

It was already 4.30pm as Vaughn drove through the heavy traffic of Central London in silence, wondering if he looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

He’d tried not to glance in the rear-view mirror to avoid looking at Tia, who’d spent most the journey crying or trying to defend herself against Harry’s constant jibes.

He couldn’t believe that he’d ended up working for Harry Jacobs. He was grateful to be alive, of course, but he would rather be doing anything else than this. And there was only one person to blame for this mess he was in. Franny Doyle.

Franny had arranged for Mr Huang, Wan’s brother, to have Vaughn killed, but it was Huang who was pushing up daisies. Though he hadn’t killed Huang like everyone thought, he was more than happy to take the blame because Huang had actually been killed by Shannon Mulligan, who was no more than a kid, really. And an ex-junkie kid at that.

Shannon had saved his life, for no other reason than she cared for him – he’d looked out for her and put a roof over her head when no one else had. But things soon spiralled out of control and not only did Shannon end up killing her abusive uncle, she also got caught up with Huang and his men. Though in one way he would always be thankful that she did, because it was when Shannon had been working for Huang that she’d found out what Franny had been planning.

Instead of just leaving him to be set up, to be chopped up into pieces and thrown into the Thames, Shannon had come looking to warn him and had ended up driving a knife into the back of Huang’s head herself to save Vaughn’s life.

He’d never let on it was Shannon who’d actually killed Huang. He’d go to his grave with that secret.

Of course, they’d had to get away and lie low, and when they’d been hiding out in Spain, he’d wondered how he was going to make a comeback, earn money, but more importantly how he was going to live long enough to get his revenge. But then he’d run into Harry in Marbella, where they’d been holed up in a friend’s villa.

Harry was someone he hadn’t seen for years, someone he had a history with and someone he’d once helped get out of a tricky situation. And for all Harry was, for all Harry had done, he didn’t forget a favour. So as much as he’d rather not be here working for Harry, the tables were turned and now Harry was helping him out of the trickiest situation he’d ever been in.

Though, in all fairness, he was surprised that Wan had agreed to back down. He knew that Harry did business with him and they went back a fair way, but it was still saying something that Wan, who was known for being more ruthless than his brother, didn’t want Vaughn’s head on a plate.

With Shannon still tucked well away in Spain for now – both from the police who were looking to question her about her uncle, as well as being away from the mess that still circled around what had happened with Franny and to Huang – he could concentrate on sorting out the shit he was wading in without worrying about Shannon. And once he had, once he’d sorted everything out, there’d certainly be a happy ever after; Franny would get what was coming.

‘Will you stop that fucking crying, Tia, you’ve done my nut in the whole journey. Poor Vaughn ain’t said fuck all, cos he’s probably wondering what the fuck he’s got into and no doubt that bastard Wan and his gang probably seem a better bet to him right now. God knows they’d be quieter. Ain’t that right, Vaughnie?’ Harry’s loud voice boomed around the Range Rover, cutting into Vaughn’s thoughts as he pulled into a small mews just off Harley Street.

Vaughn gave a tight smile but didn’t say anything, not wanting to get involved.

‘You see that, Tia, Vaughn’s too polite to say what a noisy cunt you’ve been.’

Tia stared at her husband wondering quite how she had so many tears. Harry was intolerable and she could see that he was enjoying tormenting her. She had a banging headache and the only thing that had got her through the journey was the thought of seeing her children. She was looking forward to getting out of the car and having a nice, long bath.

‘Will you turn it in, Harry? Stop digging me out. You’ve made your point, so can you drop it?’

Roaring with laughter, Harry opened the car door after Vaughn pulled up outside the last house in the row. ‘Drop it? Tia, after what you’ve done, I ain’t even started, darlin’.’

He slammed out of the car and stalked towards the house with the pale pink front door as Tia wearily stepped out of the car. Though as she did, she quickly glanced across to Harry to make sure he wasn’t looking as she spoke in a whisper to Vaughn. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’

Vaughn stared ahead, not wanting Harry to see them talking. ‘I didn’t have a choice.’

‘You had every choice!’

With his cheeks flushing with anger, Vaughn hissed, ‘If I did, do you really think that I’d come here?’

‘I dunno, Vaughn. I don’t know what you’d do.’

‘I was desperate.’

Grabbing her cream Prada bag, Tia snapped, ‘Yeah, well we’ve all been that. It don’t mean you needed to come here.’

With his anger getting the better of him, Vaughn swivelled around. ‘If I hadn’t, I would’ve been a dead man by now.’

‘Well, it’s a shame you’re not.’

‘Everything all right? She ain’t chewing your ear off is she mate?’ Harry’s voice boomed out from the doorway of the house.

‘No, it’s fine. She just thought she’d dropped her phone!’ Vaughn called back.

‘Dozy fucking cow. Just leave her to it. Come and have a drink!’

Ignoring Harry’s insults, Tia shook her head. She’d known that Vaughn had been in trouble, big trouble, but she never guessed that he would actually come and work with Harry. Leaning towards Vaughn, she hissed her words. ‘I want you gone. Understand? But in the meantime, stay away from me, Vaughn. Don’t talk to me. I don’t want anything to do with you. You hear me? Just stay away from me.’ And with that Tia Jacobs rushed into the house, crying again.

Tia’s hand reached for the bathroom door just as it was abruptly swung open by a strikingly beautiful woman. Tammy Owens. It always amazed Tia how even though it was her house, with her children in it, over the past year or so it was Tammy opening the door from the inside, whilst she stood waiting to be let in, very much from the outside.

‘Tia! Welcome home!’ Tammy purred as she threw her arms over Tia pulling her into a steely embrace.

‘Let me look at you. When Harry said you might be coming home, I couldn’t believe it. Now we’ll be able to catch up on all that girly gossip – it’ll be like old times again. But first things first, we simply have to get you out of that hideous dress. You look like a tramp, darlin’.’

Tammy trilled with laughter, exuding the coldness that seemed always to be in her heart from her eyes. As Tia politely tried to free herself from Tammy’s suffocating grip, it crossed her mind that for as long as she could remember, Tammy had always been a bitch. A bitch if she didn’t get something, a bitch if she did.

They’d been close once, really close, and she would’ve done anything for her but Tammy had never acted like the same could be said of her. Tammy was selfish and so often mean, but Tia had always made some excuse for her behaviour.

But the real breaking point between the two of them had come last year when Tia’s youngest child, Lily, who’d only just turned six, had been rushed into hospital after falling off a slide and smashing her head.

It had been touch and go for a while and the surgeons had had to rush her into surgery. She’d tried to get in contact with Harry and she’d tried to get in contact with Tammy but she hadn’t been able to get in touch with either.

After a long, difficult night waiting to see if Lily would pull through, she’d come home exhausted from the hospital to get a fresh change of clothes, riding in the back of a filthy mini-cab.

She’d walked into the front room and what greeted her was a pair of size-eight La Perla knickers on the floor and a semi-clad Tammy entwined in her husband’s arms. When they’d seen her standing there, Tammy had just lit a cigarette and told her how tired she looked.

And now, as Tammy stood smiling at her, Tia just shook her head. Rather than feeling anger towards her, Tia pitied her, because she was a fool if she thought that having Harry Jacobs would bring her any sort of pleasure. She knew well enough that Harry destroyed everything he came into contact with, and soon enough he’d destroy Tammy too. Yes, Tammy Owens, her twin sister, had a lot to learn.

4

‘Where we going?’ Sasha said sullenly as she looked at Wan from under her dark fringe. Immediately annoyed by the question, Wan grabbed her face, squeezing it hard so he could feel her jawbone pressing into his fingers.

He was already pissed off by what had happened to Sophie. A girl OD’ing was a pain, to say the least. Getting rid of a body was even more of one, and that wasn’t even taking into account the fact they’d be a girl down now.

Still, like his brother and his father had always taught him, these girls were supposed to be disposable. Easy come, easy go. There’d always be another girl around the corner after all.

Faceless girls that nobody cared about. Runaways. Girls that no one would come looking for. Girls who’d been kicked out of their homes, girls who’d just come out of care. But the best kind of girls were the ones who’d already been abused so what he was asking of them, well, it had already become second nature to them. Oh yes, these girls were head and shoulders above the rest.

But that still didn’t stop him from being irritated by the fact that Sophie had accidentally topped herself. Although she was new, the punters had clearly liked her. She was part of the latter group. Abused and unwanted, which had made it straightforward for him. A few kind words, a little bit of attention, a roof over her head and that had been basically it. It was all he’d needed to do to make her willing, willing to do whatever it was that was asked of her as long as she’d been fed some cocaine, which she’d taken to like a duck to water.

It was always helpful when they liked the taste of powder and the pills. Sophie couldn’t get enough of it – clearly in hindsight too much of it. Unlike some of the girls who seemed to think that when he gave it to them he was trying to give them arsenic, Sophie had nostrilled it up like there was no tomorrow.

It was important that when he needed the girls to work for him they were high. That way they were loose, they didn’t become frigid and tighten up, especially when they were being passed around a party. The last thing he needed was an uptight little bitch. It was bad for business. Plus, it helped them forget. The less they remembered, the better.

Though what he didn’t like was the fact that Sophie had been the second girl recently who’d overdosed, and as much as they were disposable, he didn’t want them falling like flies. More to the point, he was worried that the cocaine was too high a grade, too pure, though he’d been assured it wasn’t, or that it was bad shit. The last thing he needed was to be letting the girls take what ironically was lines of arsenic.

Turning his thoughts back to Sasha, Wan growled, ‘Don’t question me. When I say we’re going somewhere, that’s all you need to know. You understand?’

Sasha, dressed in a skimpy white dress that skirted her pert bottom, nodded as she stared glassy-eyed at Wan.

‘Good. Now get in the van,’ said Wan as he stood surrounded by two of his henchmen in the private car park of his restaurant.

In the back of the blacked-out van, there were already two other girls sitting, spaced out on mats on the floor. Seeing Sasha hesitate, he gripped her arm, dragging her towards it. ‘Get the fuck in. I haven’t got time for this.’

‘I … I … I just don’t want to go after last time.’

Wan lunged for her, pulling her hair and twisting it around in his hand, causing her to let out a screech. He stared at her, his face inches away from hers. ‘No one asked you to be here, Sasha. You’re here of your own free will, remember that.’

‘I know, I just don’t like it, that’s all. I don’t like the parties. The men, they smell and, well, they’re old.’

He continued to glare at her as he let go of her hair. ‘You’re not marrying them, so what’s the problem?’

Sasha, who was barely five foot tall but tottering on high heels, looked up at Wan with tears in her eyes. ‘I just—’

He interrupted, his cockney accent sounding stronger than normal. ‘Do I put a roof over your head, Sash? Do I feed you? Let you eat in my restaurants anytime you like? Order anything you want? Do I give you money to go out and about? To shop, to get your nails done? Even get your fucking hair extensions done?’

‘Yeah.’

He took her face in his hands again, only this time, he stroked it gently. ‘Well then, what’s the sour look for? All I ask in return, is a few favours here and there. That’s all, and that’s not too much to ask, is it? My girlfriend doing me a favour … Tell me, Sash, who’s treated you better than me?’

Sasha’s green eyes stared up at him mesmerisingly. ‘No one, Wan.’

‘Exactly. No one. You’ve never had a better boyfriend than me, even your mum didn’t want to know you, but I do, Sash. I want you but if you want, you can go back to where you came from. How about that, Sasha? Would that make you happy? You want to go back on the streets? I can take you there. I can take you back to the place I found you. Just say the word … Actually, let’s just cut to the chase and why don’t I take you back now? Save either of us any more heartache.’ He began to pull her towards the gate.

‘No, please! Please! I don’t want to go back. Please, Wan! I’m sorry.’

He shook his head. ‘But I don’t think you are. I think it’d be better if you just went. No hard feelings, hey?’

‘Please, please, don’t make me go. I want to stay with you. I’ll do it, I’ll go to the party, and I won’t complain, I swear. Give me another chance.’

‘I’m all out of chances, Sash.’

Hysterical now, Sasha continued to beg. ‘Please, please—’

‘What’s going on here?’ Franny, her chestnut hair tied up into a ponytail, walked into the car park from the back entrance of the restaurant.

On seeing Franny, Wan dropped hold of Sasha who stood weeping quietly to herself. ‘Go away, Franny, this is nothing to do with you. Just a boyfriend–girlfriend thing.’

Franny raised her eyebrows at the same time as hardening her gaze. She glanced at Sasha who looked distraught. ‘Sash, sweetheart, are you all right? I’ve been thinking about you. I was worried.’

‘I said this is nothing to do with you, so why don’t you turn around and go and find something else to do,’ Wan said.

Franny didn’t move, instead she just stared at Sasha, seeing the dark circles under her eyes, and bringing down her voice, she spoke gently. ‘Please, Sasha, talk to me.’

Standing under the grey London sky, tears came to Sasha’s eyes and she opened her mouth to say something but it was Wan who spoke first as he turned to look at Sasha. ‘Get in the fucking van … Now!’

Without hesitation, Sasha ran and stepped into the Ford transit, leaving Wan to stare at Franny with as much contempt as he could muster. His words snarled out as he pushed her hard in her chest, causing her to take a step back to hold her balance. ‘Don’t ever do that to me again. You hear me? You’re overstepping the line these days. First back in the club and now this.’

Not showing the slightest hint of being intimidated, Franny, standing as tall as Wan, returned his stare and his contempt. ‘All I was doing was asking how she was.’

‘And I’m telling you, not to.’

‘It was only a few hours ago that she watched her friend overdose. What the fuck is wrong with you? The girl’s traumatised,’ said Franny angrily.

Wan held a steady glare. ‘Haven’t you heard the saying, the show must go on?’

Barking out her words and feeling so much hatred towards Wan, Franny shook her head. ‘This ain’t a show though. You can’t expect her to be okay. She’s just a kid and that was her friend, Wan. She watched her friend die after your goon wouldn’t even let her call for the ambulance.’

He shrugged. ‘What can I say?’

Rolling her tongue around her mouth, Franny chuckled nastily. ‘You really are something else. So what should I do, not bother when one of the girls is upset? Not bother when it’s clear that Sasha’s in shock?’

‘That’s exactly right.’

Nodding, Franny felt the surge of anger rush through her. Everything in her wanted to take her gun and shove it down his throat. But instead, she stayed still for a moment, not speaking, not moving, making sure that she was in control of her emotions before she did say anything.

Eventually, with an even tone, she asked, ‘So where are you guys off to, anyway?’

Without warning, Wan slammed his hand around Franny’s throat. ‘Don’t. Ask. Questions.’

Then Wan stomped off towards the van, getting in it before speeding away.

Rubbing her neck, Franny closed her eyes for a moment. Anger, not pain, rushed through her veins. Yes, she’d paid for protection against Harry and Vaughn and yes, she’d had to hand over her shares to Wan and do any bit of dirty work he asked of her, but how long she could put up with it, she didn’t know. If she was going to do anything about it, she needed help.

Pulling out her phone, Franny dialled the ever-familiar number and spoke to the ever-familiar voicemail. ‘Alf, hey, Alfie, it’s me. Call me back. Please. We need to talk. I need to talk.’

Putting the phone back in her pocket, Franny decided that although she’d made some stupid mistakes in her life, none were as stupid as allowing Wan to make an enemy of her.

5

Standing in the bedroom of his friend’s large, luxurious flat situated on the banks of the River Thames, with stunning views of both Tower Bridge and the Tower of London, Alfie Jennings listened to the message from his on-off lover Franny Doyle and, as was his habit, he threw his mobile across the room. The phone crashed against the wall where it fell on the bed, waking up the hooker he’d had his friend send over to him last night.

‘Bloody hell, Alf, what happened to a gentle wake-up kiss?’

‘What happened to a silent whore?’

The hooker, who’d known Alfie for the past ten years, shrugged, clearly not taking offence. ‘What’s ruffled your feathers this morning?’ she said laughing. ‘And for your information, if you want me to keep my mouth shut, it’ll cost you another fifty quid.’

He rolled his eyes at her. ‘Do me a favour, Jan, just shut the fuck up. I’m happy to pay you a bull’s-eye for some peace.’

He sighed and broke open the new bottle of whiskey, pouring it generously into a crystal glass.

‘Alfie, why don’t you come and take some lines with me, relax a little.’

He turned around and stared at Jan. ‘I thought you were going to shut your mouth.’

She shrugged and giggled. ‘You never used to be such a grouch. Come on, let’s have some fun.’

Alfie stared at the cut-up lines of cocaine on the cream Ralph Lauren nightstand. He could almost taste it, almost feel the burn in his nose, and he could almost hear it calling his name. After the last couple of years of indulging to excess, he was trying to knock it on the head. Or at least cut down on it. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t tempted and it certainly didn’t help his cause that Jan was noisily snorting it up.

‘Drop me out, Jan, and if I were you and wanted to get paid at all, I’d stop chewing my fucking ear off.’ And with that, Alfie shot one last angry glance at the lines of coke, took a huge swig of whiskey and stepped outside onto the balcony, feeling the drips of water run down his handsome face from where he hadn’t bothered to dry his hair after his shower.

With the cold air somewhat taking away the urge to snort some gear, absentmindedly watching a tugboat on the river, Alfie thought of Franny. In actual fact, she was the only thing he could think of. No matter what he did – even when he was getting his dick sucked by some whore or having a threesome – Franny was the only thing on his mind. And since he’d met her all those years ago, it had always been the same.

In the messages she’d left for him, he could hear the tone in her voice and he knew her well enough to realise that she was struggling. What with, exactly, he wasn’t sure, though from a good source he knew she was somehow caught up with Wan. But he was damned if he was going to come running, playing a knight in shining armour. After all, she had fucked him over. She had fucked everyone over, come to think of it.

Franny had not only set Vaughn up, she had set him up by giving him no alternative than to do her dirty work.

Last year his daughter, Mia, had been kidnapped and he and Franny had gone looking for her and it had taken them down a very dark road. He’d thought that Mia had been taken by a paedophile ring and whilst they’d been searching, they’d come across a little boy who was about to be auctioned off to the worst kind of human beings. Worse still, the boy’s own father had been part of the sale.

And of course, once he knew about the boy there’d been no way he could’ve left the kid; he could never have that on his conscience. But he’d also known the sort of money that the boy was going for, being young and innocent – fresh meat, as they called it – was the sort of money he didn’t have to hand. His business hadn’t been doing great, especially after Franny had taken two million quid of his money. Though he knew that was another story entirely, one he didn’t want to think about now.

The bottom line was he’d needed nearly half a million pounds quickly so, foolishly, he’d gone to Wan’s brother for a loan. A loan that had interest written in blood on it.

He knew that when he’d gone there. He knew that he was putting his life on the line for it when he’d asked Huang, knowing that getting the money was the easy part. The hard part was paying him back in time. But what else could he have done? And looking back, if it meant saving the boy, he would do the same thing all over again.

Afterwards, after it was all over, he’d asked Franny for help. For money to pay Huang back. But she’d pretended her money was untouchable. All tied up in trusts, which she couldn’t access. That had turned out to be bullshit. And he’d found out it was bullshit too late.

In effect, what Franny had done was play him. She’d been desperate for him to do her dirty work, something he wouldn’t normally agree to. But she’d told him that if he did help her she’d somehow help him find the money for Huang.

In truth, she’d already paid off his loan to Huang. Paid it to stop Huang slashing his throat and cutting him up in pieces. Behind his back, she shelled out almost three-quarters of a million pounds to Huang, which had been his original debt of half a million pounds plus the exorbitant amount of interest Huang charged. Though no part of him felt he needed to be grateful; after all she’d only done it to keep him alive.

But not because she loved him. Oh no, he didn’t think that the ice queen was capable of that. She’d kept him alive merely because it was convenient for her. She needed him to get her out of a mess and let’s face it, dead men weren’t much good at that.

Dangling the carrot of helping him with the loan had kept him on his toes, because at one time, he wouldn’t have cared. He would’ve taken his chances with Huang, cos bottom line, that was the business they were in. Kill or be killed. At one time even, he thought he was lucky to get to forty without having had a bullet in his head. But his attitude to all that had changed since he found out he had a daughter. And Franny had known that; she’d known he’d do anything to stay alive, even being her puppet.

So yes, that had given her power over him. Gave her the power of making him think that if he refused her requests she wouldn’t help him, which ultimately meant he was a dead man. So, she’d thrown him a bone and he’d snapped at it like a fucking mug, not knowing that once again Franny was playing him.

She’d even insisted on him trying to set Vaughn up. Not that Vaughn hadn’t deserved it, because after everything they’d been through, for Vaughn to try to bring Franny down was against every rule in their books. Not that he necessarily wanted Vaughn to have a bullet in his head, a punishment gangland style, maybe, but he’d never wanted him dead.

Though he knew as far as Vaughn was concerned, because Alfie had sided with Franny, he and Vaughn were now enemies too.

So no, fucking no, he wasn’t going to go running to help her, he wasn’t going to pick up the pieces cos he’d been fucked over by her too many times, and not only that, he’d also had his heart broken by her too many times. He was best off away from her. She was like a black widow spider; she devoured her mates. So, for all he cared, Franny Doyle could go to hell.

So why, then, was he here in London? Why the fuck had he jumped on a plane and left his daughter with her nanny if he didn’t care? Why, when he’d known she was in trouble despite everything she’d done to him, would he bother to be on hand if she really needed him?

Taking another large sip of his glass of whiskey, Alfie continued to stare at the river, gritting his teeth as he drank it down, not because of the bitter taste – no, it was quality stuff, smooth and velvety – oh no, the only thing that was bitter was him, because he knew only too well why he was here. He knew why he’d come back to London. He loved her. It was as simple as that.

And no matter how much he tried not to love such a manipulative, cold, conniving, heartless bitch, he couldn’t help it. She was under his skin and God, he hated her and loved her in equal measure for it. Though this time loving her wasn’t going to make him go charging in and pick up her pieces.

He was here, in London, without anyone knowing, and that was enough for now. Maybe she’d never know that he’d come. But if she really, really needed him he was close enough. After all, she could hold her own, though ultimately he wasn’t going to let anyone hurt her; that was his job and his job alone. Whether he liked it or not, whether he’d tried to break away from her or not, and no matter how many whores he fucked, he was a one-woman man and Franny was his woman.

He was the one who had spent the last few years loving her and hating her, so if anyone was going to kill her, it was him. That was his prerogative. But he couldn’t kill her, no matter how much he wanted to, so that meant no one else could either. That meant if they wanted to kill her, they would have to kill him first.

But for now, he would just wait and watch …

6

Tia heard her husband’s breath before she saw him in the dark of the large, cream-coloured bedroom, and as she felt his touch, she tried to roll away.

‘Stop playing games, Tia. You’re my wife for fuck’s sake.’

Sitting up in bed, Tia switched the bedside lamp on and stared at her husband. Her long, blonde hair tumbling in waves over her shoulder. ‘Let’s have it right, Harry. I’m your wife in name only. I ain’t here cos I want to be – we both know that, so why don’t you just go back to your room and get cosy with my sister.’

Harry’s mouth curled up into a sneer. ‘What do you expect, if you won’t give it out? I’m a man, Tia, and I’ve got needs.’

Raising her eyebrows and wondering what she ever saw in him, Tia snapped angrily, ‘What I expect, Harry, is for you not to screw my twin sister. It’s hardly much to ask, is it?’

‘You make it sound like I forced her. Your sister couldn’t get her knickers off fast enough. She was gagging for it. I was only doing her a favour.’

‘No, Harry, you wanted to play games like you’ve always done. Admit it; you get off on hurting me, don’t you? I mean, when I found out about you and Tammy, you hated the fact that I didn’t kick off and give you the reaction you’d hoped for. So you had to go one better and move her in, didn’t you?’

‘She means nothing to me. I don’t want her, it’s you I want.’

‘You amaze me, you know that? What do you do, Harry, get Tammy to lie there looking like me but saying nothing, so you can pretend she is me? You’re one sick fuck, you know that?’

Grabbing her roughly, Harry slapped Tia hard across the face. She squealed in pain as she felt the blood from her nose trickle into her mouth. With tears in her eyes, she shook her head. ‘Is this why you brought me back, so you can knock me around?’

‘I brought you back cos you wanted to be with your kids and besides, this is where you belong. You ain’t going anywhere, Tia. And if you do, you’ll never see your children again. So, take that miserable look off of your face and get used to it. I love you, Tia. You just got to start behaving, that’s all.’ He leant in for a kiss but she pulled away and, breathing hard, Harry said, ‘Stop being such a cock tease.’

He pulled her towards him and she tried to push him off but the sheer power of his body on top of her made it impossible for her to move. ‘Get off me, Harry, just get off me!’

Pushing his hand hard over Tia’s mouth, Harry used the other one to rip her lace knickers off, the elastic tearing into her flesh as they ripped around her thighs.

Feeling she couldn’t breathe properly, Tia panicked and thrashed her legs about, fighting to get him off. He whispered gruffly in her ear, ‘Stop pushing me away! I want to make love to you. Maybe if you learnt not to be so uptight you’d enjoy it more.’

She felt the force of him entering her and it sent a searing pain throughout her whole body. He thrust deeper and harder inside her, growling inaudible words into her ear as he took his hand off her mouth only to put it tightly round her throat, gripping it to the point of her feeling she was going to black out. Then, within moments, as the sweat poured down Harry’s face, he groaned loudly before rolling off Tia.

Propping himself up on his elbow, he stared at her, moving her hair away from her eyes.

‘For fuck’s sake, Tia, you don’t have to look like that. Do you know how many women would love to be in your position? Come on, darlin’, don’t do this to me … just give me a kiss, will you?’

She turned her face away as she felt Harry get up from the bed. ‘You’re one cold bitch, Tia, but until you realise that, nothing’s going to change … Oh, and by the way, I forgot to tell you that tomorrow and from here on out, you’re going to have your own little babysitter.’

Tia spun around to look at Harry, who was now standing by the door of their bedroom.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘I’m talking about not being able to trust you and because I can’t watch you every minute of the day, I’ve got someone else. Vaughn.’

‘No, you can’t. Harry, I ain’t having Vaughn around.’

Harry gave a tight smile before walking back over to Tia and kissing her on the top of her head. ‘You’ll have whoever the fuck I say looking after you, and if you don’t like it or if you try anything, you’ll be sorry.’

7

The next day – a Thursday afternoon – Selfridges on Oxford Street seemed busier and hotter than ever as Vaughn trudged around carrying a multitude of shopping bags. Feeling trickles of sweat running down his back, he muttered to himself, cursing Harry who’d asked him, or rather told him that his job for the next couple of weeks was to keep an eye on Tia.

That was bad enough but becoming her new skivvy, lugging about designer shoes and knickers, was taking the absolute piss. It was a joke. A fucking joke. What kind of muppet Harry had him down as, Vaughn didn’t know, but playing keeper to his missus certainly wasn’t in any of his job descriptions.

‘I need to go and try this on.’

Vaughn sighed loudly, letting his irritation show and be heard, though he didn’t look Tia directly in the face. He wanted to avoid doing that for several reasons, but mainly because he didn’t want to see the fresh, angry bruise on her cheek, which hadn’t been there yesterday.

Knocking women about wasn’t and would never be his thing, and even being around it made him feel uncomfortable. But the problem was, Harry was handy with his fists when it came to men or women, and there wasn’t much Vaughn could do about it, not if he wanted to stay alive.

For now he needed Harry way more than Harry needed him and knowing that made him feel shit and angry in equal measures.

Taking his frustration out on Tia, Vaughn growled, ‘Do you have to, Tia? We’ve been trudging about most of the day. How many dresses does anyone need?’

Staring at him and noticing that he wouldn’t look at her, Tia shrugged her shoulders. ‘And you wonder why you’re single.’

Chewing on his lip, probably to stop himself exploding, Vaughn shook his head furiously as he glanced round at the various shoppers, his handsome face lined with stress. ‘No, Tia, I don’t and I’m single because I choose to be, cos I don’t ever want to have to do this shit. This sensitive, new-age guy that goes shopping, for manicures, pedicures and any other fucking cure you lot do. Just drop me out, darlin’ … Now come on, let’s go.’

Holding the Attico zebra-printed dress in her hand, Tia – although feeling miserable after what had happened with Harry last night – laughed warmly. She stood in front of Vaughn and gave him no choice but to look at her. ‘You don’t change, do you?’

‘No, and I ain’t got any intentions to either. I’m happy as I am, now come on. The sooner I get out of this fucking place, the better.’

He turned, heading towards the escalators but Tia began to walk in the other direction.

‘Well wait outside for me then.’

Fuming at how things had spiralled to this point, Vaughn marched back across to Tia. ‘I told you that you don’t need another dress.’

‘Vaughn, I don’t like this any more than you do. Like I told you yesterday, I’d rather you not speak to me or be around me for that matter. Yes, Harry has made you my keeper so neither of us have much choice, but that don’t mean you can tell me what I can or can’t buy.’

Gazing down at her, Vaughn could feel the pulse in his temple throbbing. ‘I ain’t telling you that, I’m telling you that you’re not going into the changing rooms to try it on.’

‘Fine, I’ll do it here then.’ Holding Vaughn’s stare, Tia took off her jacket before beginning to unbutton her shirt at which point, grabbing her arm not too roughly, Vaughn pulled her towards the changing rooms. ‘Okay, you win. Go on, just hurry up. But I’m warning you, Tia, don’t mess me about.’

Inside the changing rooms Tia sat down on the bench, feeling the grey, luxury carpet under her feet. She stared at herself in the mirror under the harsh glare of the lights, seeing the worry lines around her eyes.

She still hadn’t seen the kids – Harry had made sure of that. They hadn’t been at home when she’d come back from court as they’d been staying with Harry’s mother, and even though he’d promised that he’d bring them back in the morning so she could take them to school, he’d broken his promise as usual.

Everything was a game. Harry’s game. But one day, she knew that Harry’s game would be over because she’d promised herself she’d make sure that sometime soon he’d be speaking his last words. And that would be a promise that certainly wouldn’t be broken.

Suddenly her phone beeped, breaking her out of her thoughts. She pulled it out of her pocket and saw that it was a text.

Can you come around? I need to see you.

Texting back, Tia wrote:

Give me half an hour. I’ll see what I can do.

Making sure that the text had gone through, Tia quickly deleted it before pushing her phone back into her pocket. She got up and headed out of the cubicle where at the entrance of the changing rooms she could see Vaughn standing impatiently waiting for her.

Moving back out of sight, Tia leant on the slate-grey wall of the changing room and tried to think. There was no way she could sneak out without being seen and there was certainly no way she was going to tell Vaughn where she was going.

Suddenly, an idea came to her and she turned to the tall, pretty assistant who rather than putting the clothes back on the hangers was texting on her phone.

‘That man out there is hassling me. I’m worried to go back out. Can you call security, please?’

The assistant looked up from her phone and smiled sympathetically at Tia before glancing across to Vaughn discreetly. ‘The one in the Barbour jacket?’

Still staying out of sight, Tia nodded. ‘Yeah, that’s him. Just tell them that he’s been bothering me.’

‘No problem. They shouldn’t be long.’ The assistant picked up the walkie-talkie on her desk with her perfectly manicured fingers, and set about radioing security.

Ten minutes later, Vaughn, full of hostility at having been accosted by two large security men, stared at them. ‘What the fuck are you talking about? I’m waiting here for someone, so if I were you I’d get your fucking hands off me, mate.’

‘I’m sorry, sir, but we’ve had a complaint.’

‘I’m telling you, you’ve got the wrong fucking person,’ Vaughn snarled.

‘There’s no need to swear and I’d appreciate it, sir, if you kept your voice down.’

‘And I’d appreciate it if you weren’t such a cunt. Now get off my arm, otherwise … Oi, Tia! Where you going? Tia! Is this down to you? Are these two jokers to do with you! Tia! Tia!’ he shouted angrily across the store as he noticed Tia darting towards the escalators. ‘Tia, I’m talking to you. Come back! Don’t try and pretend you didn’t hear me! Tia! Tia! Don’t you fucking go anywhere! You hear me! Tia!’

Looking over her shoulder as she hurried down the escalator, Tia saw Vaughn getting into a scuffle with the security guards as he tried to break away from them.

She sighed, knowing that ditching Vaughn was one more thing she had to worry about, though the main problem now was how the hell she was going to explain this to Harry …

8

Wan Huang cut a line of cocaine with the edge of his Amex black card. He leant forward on the mahogany wooden chair and smiled, his handsome face lighting up as he stared intently. ‘Here you go. It’s yours.’

Smiling back, the girl dressed in a tight black jumpsuit giggled as she took another sip of vodka from the plastic tumbler. ‘I don’t know, I’ve never had any before.’

Wan’s eyes twinkled. ‘Then this is your time to try some. Come on, Shelby, there’s nothing to it.’

A glint of hurt passed over her face. ‘My name’s not Shelby. It’s Ellie.’

Standing up, Wan’s shoes squeaked on the sticky, beige lino floor as he walked towards her. He kissed her gently on her neck and ran his fingers through her shoulder-length dyed red hair. Then, feigning innocence at the same time as thinking that he didn’t care less what her name was, he winked. ‘What do you take me for, hey? Of course I know it’s Ellie, I was only joking.’

Glancing up at him, Ellie looked hurt. ‘Why do you do that to me? It’s not funny.’

Wan shook his head. ‘You need to have more of a sense of humour.’

‘I don’t see the joke in forgetting me name.’

Ruffling her hair, Wan laughed. ‘Oh come on, Ellie, how could I forget it? We’ve been seeing each other for a while now, haven’t we? If I didn’t know your name by now, I think that would make me a pretty rotten boyfriend, don’t you?’

Hearing the word boyfriend, Ellie visibly glowed with happiness. ‘I guess it would.’

‘So come on then, what do you say – why don’t you take a couple of lines, help you relax?’

Pouting her full red lips, Ellie shook her head. ‘I ain’t into drugs; you know that. Not powder, anyway. I don’t mind them pills you give me and I don’t mind alcohol either, but not that, especially after what happened to Sophie.’

Wan raised his eyebrows. ‘She’s nothing to do with you.’

‘I know but …’

‘But nothing, El. How many times have I told you not to listen to rumours? If you must know Sophie was too greedy. She liked to do everything in excess. I’m not asking you to do that, I’m asking you just to have a little fun with me, for fuck’s sake. That’s all.’

‘I don’t know.’

Wan nodded as he glanced out of the window of the small, grubby flat above the Golden Dragon Chinese takeaway in Brewer Street, a place his family had owned for the past eighteen years.

Ellie was becoming hard work and from what she’d told him about her background, he was genuinely surprised at how unwilling she was to just roll over and please. Most girls like her were easy, like putty in his hands, but for some reason Ellie was different, and from what he had heard she was also quite jealous of him giving attention to the other girls. Which made it even more frustrating that she didn’t just sit up and beg when he told her to.

Picking up his jacket he sighed and nodded. ‘No problem, Ellie. If you’re not interested in having a bit of fun, that’s okay. I’m not going to force you, am I; you know I’m not like that. Your choice. Always. Listen, just let yourself out when you’re ready. There’s no rush.’

He headed for the door and although he didn’t let Ellie see, he smirked when she called after him.

‘Wait, Wan! Where are you going? I thought we were going to spend the afternoon together?’

He turned around, putting on his best sympathetic smile. His dark brown eyes, twinkling. ‘I think it’s best if we don’t. I can see that you’re uncomfortable with the whole thing and I’m not into making you feel awkward.’

Ellie, just like Sasha had earlier, shook her head and rushed across to him, her big green eyes full of vulnerability. ‘I’m not uncomfortable. I love being with you. It’s just that I don’t want to do powder, that’s all.’

Wan held her gaze, knowing exactly how to play it. Play her. After all, he’d played this game with dozens of other girls before.

He took her face gently into his hands and kissed her again, this time on the lips. Long and sensual. ‘Look, I don’t know what sort of boyfriends you’ve had in the past but I’m not going to force you to do anything you don’t want to. I love the fact that you’ve got your own mind. You should never let anyone push you into anything.’

Ellie’s eyes filled with tears, her pretty face crumpling up. ‘None of them have been like you. They’ve just treated me like shit.’

Wrapping his arms around her, he held her tight, then drew her away and spoke in a hush. ‘And it makes me sick to hear that. You didn’t deserve that. And that’s why I don’t want you to do this. I don’t want to be like the rest of the men in your life.’

‘They weren’t men. They were boys, not like you. You make me feel safe,’ Ellie said in a rush of panic.

‘I’m glad to hear it, but I think we should just be friends. We can still hang out, do stuff together, but in all honesty, you’re probably a bit young for me anyway.’ Then pretending he’d forgotten, Wan added, ‘How old are you again?’

‘Fifteen.’

‘That makes me feel well old. I’m almost eleven years older.’

Ellie shrugged. ‘But that’s okay. I don’t mind. I like it.’

Wan turned again for the door. ‘It’s not though. I keep forgetting your age cos you act so maturely. Of course you don’t want to take a line of coke. I get it. I’m just so used to dating someone my own age who wouldn’t think twice about taking a few lines. To them it would be no big deal; taking a few lines of coke is just the same as having a drink … I’m sorry, okay?’

Ellie’s voice was filled with desperation. ‘I don’t want you to be sorry, you ain’t done anything. I don’t even know why I’m making such a big deal out of it … Look.’ She hurried across to the small, wooden table where the lines of cocaine sat.

‘I don’t know if you should,’ Wan said, as he absentmindedly touched his short, black, gelled hair.

‘Well I do. I was just being stupid. Come on, give me another chance. Please.’

Taking out a ten-pound note from his pocket, Wan began rolling it up. ‘If you’re sure, cos I’d hate it if you were only doing it for me … but then, I guess it would be nice to spend the afternoon together.’

‘Yeah it would and I want to do this. You’re not forcing me to do anything,’ Ellie said with a smile on her face.

Laughing warmly, Wan shrugged. ‘Well in that case, just snort it up through that.’

Without saying anything, Ellie took the rolled-up ten-pound note from Wan then proceeded to bend over the lines where she snorted one after the other. As Wan watched her he saw her eyes roll back. ‘What do you think, Ellie? You like it?’

But Ellie didn’t answer. She staggered across the room, holding on to the table and then to the chairs and the words that did try to come out sounded garbled and incoherent. A moment later she dropped to the floor.

Wan stared at her and smiled. He kicked her side to see if there was any response. There was nothing. It always amazed him at how fast the ketamine he’d secretly cut into the cocaine worked. It was a matter of seconds before they collapsed into an almost catatonic state. Not that having a girl almost comatose was to everyone’s taste, but for what he wanted now, it did the trick nicely.

Leaving Ellie on the floor, he walked out of the small lounge, taking his phone out of his pocket as he did so. He dialled a number and almost immediately it was answered. ‘She’s spark out now, you can bring him up.’

As he made his way down the stairs, a small, fat Turkish man in his mid-sixties walked up and met Wan who nodded, and without bothering to stop continued on down the stairs as he barked out his instructions. ‘You’ve got fifteen minutes. I don’t want you making any marks on her face or her body. Nothing too rough – you got that? But anything else, enjoy yourself. I’ll see you in a bit … Oh, and no photos of her either.’

Outside in the fresh air, Wan’s phone rang in his hand. He looked at it and saw it was Franny. The last thing he wanted to do was speak to her. She was asking too many questions and just the way she looked at him made him feel uncomfortable. The less she knew the better because he hadn’t quite decided what he was going to do with her yet.

For the time being though he’d just get her to look after running the clubs and the girls, because he had to give it to her, she was good at that. Profits were up since she’d taken over running things. The promotions she ran and her overall knowledge of the club game made her an asset, at least for the time being. Because as much as he’d made a deal with her, a good, lucrative deal for him anyway, and a promise to protect her, he had a feeling that Franny Doyle might spell trouble. And if that turned out to be the case, well, he wouldn’t hesitate to get rid of her. After all, promises were just there to be broken.

9

At the same time as Wan was having a cigarette outside the Golden Dragon, a few streets away Tia hurried down Shaftesbury Avenue.

She touched the large, red bruise on her cheek and winced. She was sick of it, sick of being a punching bag for her old man, but what other choice did she have for now?

Life was bad enough with Harry without her sister Tammy adding to the mix. But for all that Tammy was, she didn’t blame her. Tammy had suffered just as much growing up in the abusive care home as she had, and Tia supposed that her sister behaving the way she did was her way of surviving. Though she hoped one day that they could put everything behind them and just start again.

Sighing, she pulled out a packet of cigarettes from her jacket pocket and dashed across the road.

‘Look where you’re fucking going, will ya?’ An irate cab driver leant out of his window, waving his fist at Tia but, ignoring him, she lit the cigarette and continued to hurry along the street, feeling her mobile phone buzzing in her pocket.

She had no doubt it was Vaughn and without bothering to even think about answering it, she rushed down Wardour Street, weaving in and out of all the milling tourists.

At the corner of St Anne’s Court, Tia curled up her nose at the smell of urine, jumping over a pool of vomit as she arrived at the entrance to a block of flats.

Seeing the silver buzzer covered with dirt and specks of blood, she used her knuckles to press it, speaking into the intercom breathlessly. ‘It’s me.’

A moment later the door was opened and Tia made her way slowly up the rubbish-strewn stairs, trying not to inhale the stench of alcohol and dirt.

Panting and feeling her phone constantly vibrating, Tia – too scared to look to see if it was Harry calling as well as Vaughn – walked to the end door, which was covered in graffiti.

She knocked softly, calling out at the same time. ‘Only me.’

The door was immediately opened by a young girl who smiled, her hazel eyes twinkling as she spoke. ‘Hi, Mum, thanks for coming.’

Immediately, Tia wrapped her arms around her oldest daughter, hating the fact that it was here, in this filthy block of bedsits, that she had to come and visit her. ‘No problem, darlin’, you know I’m always here for you, Milly,’ Tia said as she took off her jacket and cream cashmere scarf.

Giving her mum a half-smile, Milly threw herself back down on the second-hand, tatty brown couch. ‘I’m surprised he let you out.’

Not wanting to think about the grief she’d get once Harry knew that she’d given Vaughn the slip, Tia forced another smile. ‘He’s not all bad.’

Silence fell between Milly and Tia with them both knowing what Tia had said was a lie.

‘He’s bad enough to do that to your face, ain’t he?’ Milly said as she finished off the satsuma she’d been eating.

Automatically, Tia touched the bruise on her cheek. ‘It wasn’t him, I banged into—’

Interrupting, Milly, worried and upset for her mum, spoke angrily. ‘Stop, Mum! Stop trying to cover for him. The only thing you banged into was his fist. I don’t know who you’re trying to mug off – yourself or me?’

‘Mills, come on.’ Tia reached out for her daughter but Milly quickly snatched her hand away.

‘Enough, Mum, you know what a pig he is. I hate him and it’s not just because he threw me out.’

Taking off her jacket, Tia stared at her daughter. ‘Problem was, Mills, you gave him the excuse he was looking for. Always out partying, hanging out with right wrong ’uns.’

‘Yeah well it was better than coming home to him.’

‘Oh, Mills, it wasn’t that bad,’ Tia said, knowing that was just wishful thinking.

Milly shook her head, her long blonde hair, so similar to her mother’s, dropping over her eyes. She bit her lip not wanting to cry, not wanting to upset her mother either. ‘It was and you know it was … And anyway, he was always going to kick me out when I turned sixteen.’

Frustrated at the fact that what her daughter was saying was true – after all, Harry had threatened it so often everyone knew where they stood – Tia turned her anger for Harry onto her daughter.

‘Yeah, but like I say, you didn’t have to go and make it easier for him, did you? Fuck’s sake, Milly, why play into his hands? Why stay out late? Why get yourself into trouble?’

‘Cos that’s what teenagers do, Mum. They go out.’

‘Yeah well, maybe if you hadn’t—’

‘If I hadn’t, every night I would’ve had to stay around listening to him treat you like dirt and watch him sleep with anything that moves just to wind you up. So, my bad for not wanting to be around for that, Mum,’ Milly said sarcastically.

‘Mills, all I’m saying is if you hadn’t done what you did, who knows – things might’ve been different.’

Milly’s eyes filled with the tears she tried not to show. ‘Oh, that’s right, I forgot, it’s my fault he dragged me out of the house by the hair. But thanks, Mum, thanks for being on my side.’

Hating to be reminded of that day, Tia went over to switch on the kettle. She felt so inadequate, so useless and certainly so undeserving to have such wonderful kids. She’d let them all down, but especially Milly.

Milly had always been the butt of Harry’s anger and spiteful words, and although she’d tried to protect her, she knew Milly had not only been unhappy a lot of the time, she’d also been frightened.

She’d longed to give her kids what she didn’t have, but simply put, she’d failed. And the final blow had come three days after Milly’s sixteenth birthday, when Harry had literally kicked Milly out.

Although it had happened six months ago, the painful memory of seeing her daughter begging and pleading with Harry not to turn her out made it feel like it’d happened only yesterday. And it’d been that, not Tammy moving in, not the constant cheating and not the way he treated Tia, which had made her move out of the house and try to win custody of her other kids.

At the time she’d managed to take out a few thousand pounds from the various safes in the house as well as money from the bank before Harry had realised and put a stop on all her cards. Most of the money had soon gone on legal fees, for all the good that had done, as well as on hotels, so she hadn’t even been able to help Milly as she’d have liked to and now this filthy bedsit was where Milly had to call home. Even now, if Harry found out about Milly living here or the fact that Tia was still in contact with her, she was certain somehow Harry would run Milly out of town.

Tia turned and looked at her daughter. ‘Sweetheart, I love you so much and you know I’m on your side. I’ll do anything for you.’

‘Then get me out of this place. I hate it and I hate being around here. I hate this area, Mum.’

‘Why? I mean, I understand why you’d want to get out of this place but Soho’s all right, isn’t it?’

Milly shook her head, not wanting to go into it so instead she said, ‘I just hate it, that’s all. Please, Mum, just get me out of here.’

Turning away from her daughter to stop Milly seeing her tears, Tia nodded as she made the tea. ‘I am, I’m trying, babe. I promise. I promise somehow I’ll get you out.’

It was a moment before Milly said warmly, ‘I know you will, Mum, and I’m sorry. I know you’re trying.’

Wiping the tears from her eyes, Tia picked up the mug of tea and took it to her daughter. She passed it to her, smiling. ‘So anyway, how are you doing? You’re looking really well.’

‘I’m looking really pregnant.’

Bending down to touch her daughter’s large, round tummy, Tia nodded. ‘Well it’s not long now and I can’t wait to meet him or her.’ She stood back up, trying to hide her worry. Because as much as she wanted to support her daughter and be fully there for her, she hated to admit it but this baby had already caused trouble and she was certain it was going to cause a whole lot more.

10

Like a lithe feline, Tammy stretched out naked on her sister’s bed and lit a cigarette as she looked around the plush bedroom, wondering how her sister could have so little respect for herself.

Whenever Tammy thought of Tia she saw her as someone who was weak. Someone pitiful. She was one of life’s doormats, letting Harry treat her the way he did. And in her mind the only person to blame was Tia herself.

In all the time Harry and Tia had been together, she’d never put her foot down when it came to the way he treated her. Right from the beginning of their relationship, Harry had cheated and lied, humiliated her and been easy with his fists. And from what she could see, her sister had either just turned a blind eye or had to cover a bruised one. Tia’s need for security, for a life away from the streets, surpassed everything else.

But men didn’t like weakness and in her opinion Tia didn’t deserve to have a man like Harry if she didn’t know how to handle him. He was powerful and yes, he was difficult and arrogant but he deserved a strong woman by his side to complement him, not a snivelling, ungrateful cow like her sister.

After all, Harry had thrown money at her sister, given her every luxury she’d wanted. He’d spoilt her and Tia still couldn’t see how lucky she was. All she’d done was sit in her own silent misery. No wonder he’d treated Tia like he had done. No wonder Harry had come to seek her out and unlike Tia, she’d shown him how a woman should treat a man.

However, when it came to her kids, Tia was a different woman. She was a lioness. She would do anything for them. And if Tammy thought about it, she’d guess that was the main reason Tia was still here.

The idea of her children being pushed from pillar to post, going from one shabby place to another – like they’d done when they were kids before eventually being taken into care – was something she knew that Tia wouldn’t ever contemplate.

So, whilst all the time Harry had treated the kids well, Tia had been willing to stay and put up with anything Harry threw at her. But when things had taken a turn for the worse, and Harry had kicked out Tia’s oldest daughter, Milly, then finally Tia had tried to stand up to Harry. Though it was too little, too late.

Harry had wiped the floor with her and when Tia had walked out, Tammy had been sure that Harry would never forgive her. She’d been sure that Harry would never want to lay his eyes on her sister again and she’d thought that over time Harry would’ve forgotten about her completely. But she’d been wrong. So wrong. Because weakness was weakness and, predictably, her sister had come crawling back to Harry.

And it hurt. It bloody well hurt that once again Tia was the one who’d come out on top. And Tammy hated her for it. She hated the fact that Harry wanted someone as pathetic, someone as weak as Tia instead of her.

Oh yes, Tia may look identical to her, but when it came down to their personalities, they were as far apart as a spider was to a fly and if she had anything to do with it, not too far in the future, Tia would be gone again, but this time permanently.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ Harry stood at the door staring with total contempt at Tammy.

Taking a long drag of the cigarette, Tammy pouted out her full red lips. ‘Waiting for you.’

‘In my wife’s room? Get the fuck out.’

Tammy flinched at the words, smarting at the fact that Harry wasn’t pleased to see her. Though of course she didn’t show it; she just smiled seductively. ‘Harry, baby, come on, let me help you unwind.’

Incensed, Harry ran towards her, dragging her off the bed by her long, blonde-streaked hair. His face twisted up in rage. ‘This is my wife’s room! I don’t want you in here. Understand? You may think this is some kind of joke, you little slut, and you may think it’s okay to wind up your sister, but don’t you fucking dare try to wind up me. You understand?’

Holding on to his hands to try to stop him pulling her hair so hard, Tammy nodded and gave a tiny squeal as the pain ripped through her head.

‘Okay, good, I’m glad we’ve got that sorted and if I find you in here again, I won’t be responsible for my actions. Understand?’ He let Tammy go, pushing her across the floor where she fell into a heap, and he stared at her hard.

Looking at Tammy of course made Harry think of Tia, which in turn made him feel angry.

Since Tia had come home yesterday, she’d been more distant with him than ever before, and that was saying something.

He was under no illusions and knew that Tia wouldn’t be within a mile of him if it wasn’t for the kids. When he looked at her, he could see the cold hatred in her eyes and the unhappiness that exuded from her. But what was he supposed to do? He’d tried with her, given her everything and still she was a cold-hearted bitch towards him. Yet she still had a way of getting under his skin. She always had done.

And it wasn’t just because she was his wife and in his eyes that meant forever or at least until he said so. It was more than that, so much more. She had a hold on him. He’d asked himself many a time why he didn’t just let her go, and each time he came up with the same answer, he couldn’t.

He just couldn’t let her go because he wanted her. Every minute of every hour of every day he wanted her, and he hated her for it. Hated the fact that she was right there in his head.

It wasn’t just her beauty. He knew that because her sister had the same face, the same nose, the same-shaped body but unlike Tia, Tammy meant nothing to him. She was just a bit of sport.

Taking Tammy as a lover, he thought it might have broken the spell Tia had unknowingly had over him but instead it’d only made it worse. It’d fucked with his head seeing the face and body of Tia without her actually being there.

And when Tia had actually found out he was sleeping with her sister, she hadn’t said anything. She hadn’t kicked off at all, which had made him want to hurt her all the more. He’d wanted her to scream and shout and show him she cared but all she’d done was look at him with even more contempt.

Even when she’d come home from court yesterday and found that he’d moved Tammy in, she still hadn’t reacted, and it pissed him off to no end. He wanted to get under Tia’s skin as much as she got under his; he wanted her to suffer like he did. And he did. He suffered because he hated her and was captivated by her in equal measures, which in turn gave way to an all-consuming jealousy, which was why he needed to know where Tia was at all times.

The thought of any other man even looking at her made him want to kill someone. It made him irrational with anger which, ironically, was directed at Tia. Though it wasn’t as if she didn’t deserve suspicion. It wasn’t as if she was purely innocent. Oh no, his wife was a slippery cow and she certainly couldn’t be trusted.

He hadn’t known anything about her plan to walk out on him until it actually happened, though looking back all the signs had been there. She’d disappear for hours on end and when he questioned her about where she’d been she was evasive. For some reason he couldn’t explain now, he’d just let her get on with it, never imagining she’d be brave enough to do anything stupid.

And the only reason Tia was still breathing, still alive today, was because she left him not for another man, but to fight some silly battle she could never win, and he could just about forgive her for that. Just about. Because if she had left him for another man, that would be an entirely different matter. She knew there’d be no hiding place for her then because however long it took, he’d find her, fuck her, and finish her. After all, she was his wife and in his eyes that meant doing what he wanted with her.

Having wound himself up, Harry – leaving Tammy on the floor – angrily stalked out of the bedroom as he pulled his mobile out of his pocket. He dialled a number but it went straight to voicemail. Then almost shaking with rage, he pressed another number, waiting for it to dial out, but after a few rings it went to voicemail as well. He growled down the phone.

‘You better have a good fucking reason why you ain’t calling me back cos I need to have a word with my wife and she ain’t answering and now you’re not either and I don’t want to talk to some cunt’s answer machine, so you need to call me back now … Oh, and remember, Vaughn, we have a deal. I gave you my word I’d keep Wan and his men off your back. But if you think that you can fuck me off, fuck me over, then I’d think again, mate, unless of course you want that lot to come and get you. So if I were you I’d answer your phone so I can speak to my FUCKING WIFE!’

11

Lamb’s Conduit Street was as busy as ever with café goers and ambling tourists as Tia made her way towards Russell Square.

Turning into a small street, she headed towards a house with a large, freshly painted blue front door, which stood next to a florist’s.

Under the grey sky of London, feeling a cold chill, Tia shivered as she stood on the doorstep and rang the bell. She glanced around, more out of habit than thinking she’d been followed, though she knew she couldn’t be too careful.

Within moments the door was opened by a heavily made-up woman who was wearing a ruched red dress and a warm smile. She greeted Tia cheerily.

‘Hello, darlin’, you look like you’re freezing your tits off. Come in, sweetheart.’ But then she stopped and stared at Tia. Her lips pursed. ‘What’s that on your face? Harry been knocking you about again?’

Tia touched her cheek, and shrugged. ‘It is what it is, Lydia. It ain’t so bad.’ She followed Lydia into the house which, like the front door, had been freshly painted but in muted colours of grey and pink. Wanting to get the topic of conversation away from herself, Tia asked, ‘You been all right?’

‘Not too bad, shouldn’t grumble though we fucking do, don’t we?’ Lydia said as she cackled warmly.

Going through to a room at the back – which always reminded Tia of the bedroom she’d stayed in the first night she’d been put into a foster home – she sat down wearily as Lydia, house proud as always, fluffed the pink cushions on the bed.

‘I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to make it today,’ Tia said as she took off her jacket in the excessively hot room.

Lydia raised her eyebrows and came to sit opposite Tia on one of the cream flowered couches. ‘I’m sorry to hear about what happened at court. But it don’t surprise me. He was never going to let you go. We both know that.’

Trying to stop the tears pricking at her eyes, Tia absentmindedly picked up the teddy bear that was next to her on the sofa. ‘I know it was stupid but I had to try. I just thought if I could get the kids, then I could get a place for us all and Milly would have some kind of home again. You should see the place she’s in, Lydia. It’s a dump and I feel so guilty cos I know she needs me. She’s sixteen and eight months pregnant and she ain’t got a pot to piss in either.’

Looking sympathetic, Lydia reached out and held Tia’s hands. ‘But she’s got you ain’t she, lovie? And that’s the main thing. She’s not the first kid who’s got no money and is having a baby in some shithole and she won’t be the last. Look at us – weren’t much older than her when we got up the duff. You had Milly young, and you not only survived, you did a bloody great job with her.’

Allowing the tears to come, Tia shook her head. ‘I want more for her though.’

‘I know, darlin’, and you’ll get more. It’ll work out, I know it will, but it’s just going to take time. I’m only sorry I can’t offer Milly a place to stay here, but you know what my poxy landlord’s like; he’s a right bastard and well, let’s face it, it ain’t really the right environment for Milly, is it?’

Tia looked at Lydia and smiled. She was grateful for a friend like Lydia. Someone who was always there for her, someone who never judged her no matter what.

She’d known Lydia for years, since she was a teenager, and although she was ten years older, Lydia had always looked out for her. Though of course, Tia kept her friendship with Lydia a secret from Harry. He didn’t want her to have friends; he didn’t want her to have anyone in her life apart from him.

‘I know, it’s just I hate seeing her where she is. But it’s the only place I can afford and you know as well as I do, even that’s a scrape. And it’s not like I can get any money from Harry. He checks all the bank statements and even if I buy a whole heap of designer gear, I can’t even sell it cos he ain’t stupid; he wants to see that as well. Harry basically thinks if I’ve got money, I’ve got power and that’s something he’s never wanted me to have.’

Nodding sympathetically, Lydia stuffed a piece of gum in her mouth. ‘He’s got you proper locked down, darlin’, but you know you’ll always have here.’

‘I appreciate that, Lydia. But the problem I’ve got now is trying to get out. It was bad enough before, him never letting me come or go as I please, but now I’ve got me own babysitter.’

Getting up and walking towards the door, Lydia asked. ‘What you talking about?’

‘He trusts me less than he did before, so he’s given me my own minder. And you’ll never guess who it is … It’s Vaughn.’

A look of shock crossed Lydia’s face. ‘What? You kidding me?’

Tia shook her head. ‘No. It’s Vaughn. Vaughn Sadler.’

Whilst Tia was talking to Lydia, a mile and a half away Vaughn was stomping across Oxford Street, barging angrily through the crowd of tourists sauntering across the road. He sighed as he felt his phone going off again. Fuck. It was the sixth time that Harry had called him and it was the sixth time that he’d ignored it. And each time he did, each time he didn’t answer it, he didn’t even need to try to imagine how Harry was feeling – he knew.

Harry would be gunning for him big time, ready to read him the riot act, which was something he knew that he couldn’t afford for Harry to do. He had to keep him on side, had to be some sort of frigging lap dog because he knew only too well that if Harry decided to drop him, to go back on the decision to help him out, then Wan and his men would sweep in like vultures. Then, it’d only be a matter of time before he was a dead man.

Hurrying along, he thought about switching off his mobile. There was a temptation to do so but he had no doubt that such an action would incite Harry’s anger even more and at the moment it was all about damage limitation.

Hearing a text buzz through, he pulled his phone out of his Hawes & Curtis taupe suede jacket to read it.

Where the fuck are you, you cunt?

Shoving it back in his pocket, Vaughn, seething with anger at the situation he was in, made his way through to Ramillies Street, contemplating the bollocking he’d give to Tia as well as trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to tell Harry that on the first day of minding her, he’d lost her.

And the truth was, walking along the street now, he had no idea where he was supposed to find her; he was really only going from street to street to make himself feel better, to make himself feel like he was one step closer to laying his eyes on her and one step closer to being able to phone Harry back and feed him some bullshit about why he hadn’t answered in the first place.

Approaching Great Marlborough Street, Vaughn suddenly froze as he caught sight of a familiar person. A person he wanted to speak to. But it wasn’t Tia, it was Franny. Franny Doyle, the person he hated more than he’d ever hated anyone in his life and the person who’d caused all this mess in the first place.

And even though he knew he probably shouldn’t, even though he knew he would be better off just searching for Tia, Vaughn couldn’t help himself and he began to follow Franny. For now, Harry and Tia would just have to wait.

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