| BOOK TWO | 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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Grappling the train of her red dress, Alexa selected a wooden crane and sat down. Her eyes were wet, but she hedged any more tears. "That's the last time I saw him."
One hand tucked in my trouser pocket, I jangled loose change, listening intently. "You went inside the house and found your mother on the kitchen floor, dead and covered in blood. You didn't see anyone hurt Adaline. Back then, from a child's perspective, your intellect only stretched so far. You recall vibrant colours and certain emotions. You saw red and felt sad. You heard an unfamiliar voice and found an unidentifiable man inside your house."
Positioning onto one knee, I gripped her jaw, kissed her lips and abated the sadness in her absent eyes. "Why did your father return to the house, Alexa?"
"He didn't come inside," she said, unsure of the words she speaks. "Patrick seemed conflicted, Liam. Perhaps he felt guilty for his behaviour that night and considered apologising before leaving. I mean, I wish he'd of entered. He didn't care much..."
"Alexa," I whispered, hand massaging the back of her neck. "Why did he switch T-shirts."
She wore an expression of implacable vexation. "I don't know, Liam. How can I answer those questions? I told you. The man barely acknowledged me. He didn't even wish me farewell before driving off."
"How conceivable is it that he murdered your mother?" I hinted, and her face set in a permanent scowl. "You said it yourself. He resented his life—hated his wife and children." Her gut cut into me. "Is it possible he entered the property amongst Bajramovic and his men?"
Aghast by my evocation, she stood in an abrupt temper. "What are you implying?"
"Let's not pretend Paddy Haines was an honourable man, Alexa." Enough of the mollifying. It's time to get down to business. "He abused your mother throughout their entire marriage. He beat and molested your sister. That night, if it weren't for Kathy's threat, he'd have touched you." I mirrored her stance, albeit subdued compared to her mounting abhorrence. "Will you consider conceptualisation for my benefit?"
Beyond the rusted, metal walls, Fagan, undergoing brutal torture, extended a wounded scream of tribulation. Ashen-faced but impassive, Alexa paid heed to the shrilling sounds of power tools, lost in her thoughts.
The loathing in her soft, hazel coloured stare reduced when our eyes fixed. Enamoured by me, she returned to my side, bare feet, filthy and sore.
I clicked my earpiece and ordered one of my men to bring in spare clothes from the Bentley, assured that someone had gym and training gear hanging around.
Only a minute transpired before a suited male opened the metal door. Without speaking a word, he gave me a black hooded tracksuit and clean socks, resuming to his post outside.
"Take off the dress," I said firmly. Alexa faffed, grousing with a slight note of chastisement. Disregarding her confused mithering, I watched the torn layers puff around her feet, tugged the hoodie over her head and drew the bottoms up. "Sit." When she complies, I lean forward, dust off her feet and roll up socks. "Where are your shoes?"
