The Rebel: The new crime thriller that will have you gripped in 2018. Jaime Raven

75

      

       Chapter 76

      

       Epilogue

      

       Acknowledgements

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       Also by Jaime Raven

      

       About the Publisher

       PROLOGUE

      It was a dry night so Terry Malone decided to walk home. He hoped it would give him time to sober up and get over the shock of what he’d been told.

      The revelation had knocked him for six and even now, two hours later, he still couldn’t get his mind around it.

      It didn’t help that he’d had too much champagne. He wasn’t used to it. He preferred beer and whisky, but his boss had insisted on cracking open two bottles of Moët.

      ‘Get it down you, lad,’ Roy Slack had urged him back at the club. ‘This is a big fucking deal and we have to celebrate.’

      The West End was still buzzing even though it was almost midnight, but Terry was oblivious to the crowds and the incessant hum of the traffic.

      Forty-five minutes. That was about how long it would take him to trek to his home across the river in Lambeth. Amy would be in bed, of course, but she wouldn’t be asleep. Whenever he was this late she stayed awake and worried.

      He supposed it was only to be expected. The wives and girlfriends of most of the other gang members were the same. Being a villain wasn’t like being an accountant or a teacher or a bus driver. It was a tough, stressful business that entailed risk and uncertainty. And it put an awful lot of strain on families and friends.

      Amy had become far more anxious since discovering she was pregnant four months ago. She kept asking him what would happen to her and the baby if he got shot, stabbed or banged up for years.

      That was why Terry had been giving serious consideration to packing it in and going straight. It was also why he was dreading her reaction to tonight’s bombshell revelation. The impact on their lives was going to be considerable and she was bound to freak out.

      In all honesty he wouldn’t blame her. He was struggling to come to terms with it himself and it was making his head spin.

      When he reached Lambeth Bridge he broke his stride and sparked up a fag. From his pocket he took the letter that Slack had given to him. He read it through for the umpteenth time and once again he felt a flash of heat in his chest. The words were already embedded in his mind. They were shocking, life-changing, terrifying. And they sent a cold chill down his spine.

      He put the letter back in his pocket and stood looking down on the inky black Thames, his heart thudding in his chest.

      After a couple of minutes he decided that he wouldn’t break the news to Amy for at least a couple of days. That’d give him time to take it all in and assess the implications. There was so much to think about, not least the kind of future he wanted for his unborn child.

      He drew smoke deep into his lungs and reflected on what a momentous year it had already been.

      Seven months ago he’d been pushing drugs for an Eastern European outfit in North London before its leaders became victims of the Met’s latest crackdown on organised crime. Their arrests had caused chaos inside the organisation and allowed rival gangs to move in on the territory and the various businesses.

      Just weeks later his mother had died, aged fifty-three, after a stroke. She’d managed to cling on in hospital for several days before taking her last breath.

      Terry had been devastated and the future had looked truly bleak. But as one door closed another one had opened. He’d been approached by Roy Slack’s people and invited to join the biggest and most ruthless firm in the capital.

      He’d then met Amy in one of Slack’s West End clubs. After only five dates he realised that he loved her and on the seventh date she’d announced that she was pregnant.

      She’d thought he’d be angry and disappointed, but he couldn’t have been happier. At twenty-six he was ready to be a father and was determined to make a good job of it.

      He’d been telling himself that he would always be there for his son or daughter, and he’d try to give them a better start in life than the one he’d had.

      But was that going to be possible given what he now knew?

      It was one of the many questions that were piling up inside his head as he stood on the bridge and fought against the panic that was threatening to overwhelm him.

      He felt a little better by the time he got home. The walk had flushed most of the alcohol through his system and his head had stopped spinning.

      It was just after 1am when he let himself in through the front door of their terraced house, within walking distance of the Imperial War Museum.

      He’d been renting it for two years and the location was perfect. But now they’d have to move. After what he’d learned tonight there was no way that he and Amy could stay here. It just wouldn’t be safe.

      ‘Is that you, babe?’ Amy called out.

      ‘It is,’ he replied, closing the door behind him. ‘I’ll be straight up.’

      He took off his coat and went into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. He spotted two new glossy wedding magazines on the table where Amy had left them. The date had been set for January fourth, three months from now, but the details still had to be worked out.

      He wanted a cheap and cheerful affair in a register office and a few drinks in the pub afterwards. But Amy had her heart set on something more elaborate, and so they were looking at a hotel do with a combined ceremony and reception for up to eighty people.

      As Terry fingered the edge of one of the magazines more questions popped into his head.

       Would their wedding plans have to be put on hold? Would Amy still want to marry him after he told her what Roy Slack had said? Was it fair not to break the news to her straight away?

      ‘What’s keeping you, babe?’

      Her voice wrenched him out of himself and he hurriedly filled a glass with tap water. Then he took a long, deep breath, switched off the kitchen light and climbed the stairs.

      Amy was sitting up against her pillows, her swollen breasts resting on the duvet, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulders.

      She was the same age as him but looked at least five years younger. Her pale skin was flawless and her eyes were an electrifying blue.

      He forced a smile and crossed the room to plant a kiss on her lips. As always he felt a rush of affection for her. She was the first woman he had ever loved and he couldn’t imagine ever being without her.

      Since meeting her he had changed for the better. He’d mellowed and matured. He no longer kept trying to live up to his fearsome reputation as a short-tempered thug. Those days were behind him and he was glad of it.

      He still sorted people out when ordered to do so but he no longer threw his weight around or started unnecessary fights just for the fun of it.

      ‘You look done in, Terry,’ Amy said.