| BOOK SIX | 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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Overgrown hedges clipped the Bentley's exterior as I swerved onto the grassy knoll next to the dilapidated timber chapel. Nate mentioned renovations during the last visit, but the corroded crucifix and stained-glass windows were still in mother nature's destruction of vegetation. I suppose contractors were the last thing on his mind. He had to prioritise the outcome of his crazy ex-girlfriend and the livelihood of his potential son.
Yanking on a grey beanie hat, I tucked flyaway hair underneath the woollen brim and stepped onto muddy cobbles. A torch came in handy for the late-night stroll. Listening to the rustle of woodland, I pointed illumination at overgrown shrubs and deciduous trees and wondered if the new boneyard was easily accessible. I hadn't had the pleasure of venturing that far yet.
My hand drummed on the enclosed space at the back of the car. "Are you still alive?"
Blaire whimpered an almost inaudible sob.
"Let's go for a walk." Unlocking the car boot, I splashed light inside, right in the wide-eyed woman's face, and yanked her into the present by the full-body harness. "Mind your step."
"I hate you." Her bare feet slipped in the mud, fighting for the perfect posture, to not fall face-first in the dirt, where she belonged. "You rip me out of bed in the middle of the night and expect compliance."
"I expect nothing from you." With a steady, prolonged stare, I took in her bedraggled appearance. A fluffy dressing gown hung limply on her shoulders. Satin pyjamas with lace trim, too big for a woman of her size, buried her slender frame. Dirty, unwashed hair dangled in scraggly tresses. "Of course, I would love to say otherwise, but you are persistently undependable. So," I grabbed her elbow, leading her toward the spooky—most likely haunted—chapel, "I have a better idea."
"Oh, yeah?" Her footsteps stumbled as I forced her to move along, her outstretched arms flapping to balance long strides. "You can forget about the video. I refuse to do it—and you can thank Alexa for that. If only she'd have stayed away from me. I might have made better decisions."
"See, this is why I dislike you so much. You are sly and manipulative. You play mind games to get what you want." Stopping shy of the chapel, I fished out the spare key to unlock the door. "Well, I am smarter, Blaire. And two steps ahead of you. Pleading with you is pointless. You will never do the video to clear the boss's name. His tarnished reputation is the only means of leverage you have." My hands landed on her stiff, bony shoulders with necessary exertion. "We could argue that the baby is enough to get those lips moving, protect his future and whatnot, but let's cut to the chase. You only care about yourself. You are not interested in the kid's health, happiness or fortune. It's all about you, what you want, what you need, and what you can get out of the situation. The burden of anger, jealousy and bitterness outweighs cognitive rationality. Even now, after everything you have done, you cannot admit failing or culpability. It's everyone else's fault."
"I never mentioned other people. I blamed Alexa only," she snarled in disgust because, apparently, Alexa is the reason behind Warren's incarceration, not the crazy bitch spitting vitriol. "Everything was fine until she came back. I wish she'd have died the night Flamur's men snatched her off the street." Her cold, unempathetic face left a bad taste in my mouth. "What does she have that I do not?"
