| BOOK FOUR | THE LONDON CRIME KING | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE NOVEL |
This book contains adult language and subject matter, including graphic violence, drugs and explicit sex that may be disturbing to some readers.
This series is NOT a typical romance...
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Insufficient time expedited the process. In a few hours, the crown prosecution service will issue the metropolitan police department a search warrant to tear down Warren Enterprise.
Numerous Suits operated multifarious vehicles to convey evidence—that could be used in court—to the Manor.
Nobody slept. Nobody ate. Everyone collaborated to protect their boss.
When officials brandish a search warrant at Club 11, they will find nothing but licensed alcohol, weights and measures, gaming legislation, door supervisors, food safety, data protection, health and safety and insurance.
They will not uncover illegal drugs, firearms or prostitution.
Delivered produce boxes hoarded Club 11's underground chambers, not stainless-steel shackles, metal fetters, rot-proof ropes, steel manacles or wrought-iron chains.
Officials will not recover deleted surveillance footage or coax betrayal from loyal subjects.
Yes, I am one step ahead of those underlings.
Jobsworths.
William, the Grape and Vine manager, sent employees home and closed the restaurant until further notice. He traded formal attire for informal clothing, casual jeans, tan boots and a cable knit sweater.
Working tirelessly until the early hours to shred sensitive documents, Will destroyed confidential paperwork to eliminate a paper trail whilst the rest of us prepared the Manor.
Brad went through files with a fine-tooth comb. "Will's loyal, right?"
"Yes." I tucked Liam's leather wing chair behind the desk. "I hardly know him, but he seems nice."
"He's got Warren's back." He emptied files onto the low table. "Do you want to hear something funny?"
I rubbed goosebumps from my arms. "Sure."
"When I first met Will, he had a sixty-year-old slab of meat in his mouth."
My nose crinkled. "What?"
With a naughty twinkle in his eye, he made a strange hand-tossing gesture.
"You might need to break it down for me, Brad."
Nate collapsed onto the sofa in a fit of husky laughter.
"What?" My hands threw in the air. "I don't understand the joke."
Logan gagged. "Gross."
"Now, the sixteen-year-old makes me feel uneducated," I said, and the men's laughter crescendoed. "Can somebody please tell me?"
"Logan, cover your ears," Brad ordered, and Logan popped headphones over his ears, the ones he pretended to use while eavesdropping. "So, before Warren took ownership of The Grape and Vine, it belonged to my ex-girlfriend's father, right?" When I stared unblinkingly, he sighed. "Are you listening?"
