Life of Crime: The gripping, epic new thriller from the No 1 bestseller. Kimberley Chambers

warned.

      ‘I’m not fucking scared of him,’ Johnny bellowed, storming out the club.

      There was no sign outside of Thurston or his pal and as Johnny stomped along the road, he was furious. Not so much at Thurston – he was just a lowlife, chancing his luck. It was himself Johnny was livid with. If he didn’t have secrets in the bloody first place, there’d be no cat to let out the bag.

      ‘This is all I bloody well need! That smell is making me feel sick. Whatever you been feeding him?’ Tracey wrinkled her nose in disgust. ‘You’re gonna have to change him, Mel. No way are we going near the shoe stall with him stinking of shit. Put that good-looking bloke off for life, that will.’

      ‘Stop the car then and I’ll find a toilet. He’s only two, Trace, he can’t help it,’ Melissa snapped. She and Tracey had first met at school aged eleven and had been best pals ever since. They clashed though, fought like cat and dog at times, but never over anything too serious. Petty things. Tracey was a selfish cow and had no real understanding of children or their needs. A typical spoiled only child, she was.

      Tracey pulled over on the corner of Church Elm Lane. ‘That pub’s open. Sort him in there,’ she ordered, holding her nose with one hand while frantically spraying her Angel perfume with the other. Her lovely Ford Fiesta currently smelled like a public toilet.

      ‘Don’t cry, darling. Mummy’s going to change you now,’ Melissa whispered in Donte’s ear. He was a good boy, her son. Rarely played up and seemed content and happy in his small world.

      Ignoring the glaring barmaid who made a cutting remark about the toilets being for customers’ use only, Melissa marched into a cubicle, locked the door and began the none too pleasant task of cleaning her son up. Sometimes she yearned for her old life back. Before she had fallen pregnant, herself and Tracey had been out raving every weekend. They’d even had a girlie holiday in Ibiza, which was amazing.

      It had been at a rave that Melissa had met Donte’s father. Joel Wright had an immediate effect on Mel that no other lad had before. He’d been eighteen, same age as she was back then, and he was self-assured and handsome. Swept off her feet, she’d slept with Joel the third time they met up and was pregnant within eight weeks of meeting him. Unfortunately, he’d turned out to be a bullshitting user. But even though she sometimes missed her old job, friends, nights out and that free-as-a-bird feeling, she had never regretted the decision to have Donte and bring him up as a single mum. He was part of her, her very own little soldier, and when his smile lit up the room Melissa felt like the luckiest girl alive.

      ‘Drink, Mummy, drink,’ Donte mumbled. He had only recently started talking more fluently.

      ‘In a minute, darling. There’s a nice clean boy,’ Melissa beamed, lifting her son in the air.

      When Donte looked at her with his big brown eyes, held her tightly around the neck and whispered the words, ‘Love you, Mummy,’ Melissa’s eyes filled with tears. His scumbag of a father had never even seen him; her beautiful boy deserved better.

      Shirley Stone was mopping the kitchen floor when the doorbell rang. She wasn’t expecting any visitors, she usually spent Sundays alone. ‘Johnny!’ she gasped. ‘Whatever you done to your face?’

      ‘Had a scrap and fell on some glass. Looks worse than it actually is. We need to talk, love.’

      At thirty-eight, Shirley was ten years younger than Johnny. She’d worked for him for the past eight years as his secretary, and when she’d separated from her husband in 1988 their affair had started shortly afterwards.

      ‘You’ve got blood on your shirt too. Want me to wash it for you?’ Shirley offered. ‘You’ve got a couple of clean shirts in my wardrobe.’

      ‘No. Leave it,’ Johnny sat on the sofa, urging Shirley to do the same. She was a busty blonde, very pretty, and from the moment she’d started work for him there’d been an instant attraction.

      ‘We’re going to have to call it a day, for now at least,’ Johnny said, before explaining he’d got into a fight with Craig Thurston, who’d threatened to spill the beans to Carol. Their affair certainly wasn’t common knowledge. A couple of colleagues knew, one had even caught them in a compromising position recently, but Johnny had no idea how Thurston had found out. Somebody had betrayed him, that was for sure.

      Shirley’s eyes welled up. Johnny had been adamant from the very beginning that he loved Carol and would never leave her and Shirley had accepted that. ‘OK. If that’s what you want.’

      Johnny stared into Shirley’s pale green eyes and stroked her cheek. ‘It isn’t what I want, but I have little choice. There’s stuff you don’t know about Carol’s illness and she needs my full attention right now.’

      ‘Did you find out what was causing those migraines?’ Shirley enquired. Johnny often spoke about Carol, and Shirley had met her loads of times when she popped into the yard. She was a nice woman and Shirley liked her, but she couldn’t help the way she felt about Johnny.

      ‘Yeah, we did. But I can’t go into detail, Shirl. I promised Carol I wouldn’t say a word to anyone – even the kids don’t know yet. I’ll have to give up working for a while, so Ken’ll be running the yard. Between you and him, I know things’ll run smoothly in my absence.’

      It didn’t take Einstein to work out whatever was wrong with Carol wasn’t good, so instead of being narky with Johnny, Shirley hugged him close to her chest. ‘You know where I am if you need me.’

      Johnny kissed Shirley on the forehead, then stood up. ‘Thanks for being so understanding. I’ll see myself out.’

      ‘So, what’s he look like, this bloke? How old is he?’ Melissa enquired. Ever since she’d visited the market last week, Tracey had been harping on about some hunk on the shoe stall.

      ‘Does my hair look all right? My lipstick isn’t smudged, is it?’ Tracey asked, trying her best to walk steadily on the uneven pavement. Her feet were freezing. Five-inch stilettos really were not practical to wear to a market on a chilly, wet day.

      ‘Yeah, you look great.’

      ‘I already told you what he looked like. Don’t you listen to anything I say?’ Tracey complained. ‘He looks a bit older than us, blond hair, curtain-cut, and he’s lovely and tall. Wait until you see his eyes – piercing blue, they are. He reminds me a bit of Bros – Luke more than Matt. He’s gorgeous. Make sure you say that Donte is yours, won’t you? I don’t want him to think I’ve got a kid. Oh, and try on as many shoes as you can. Pretend you can’t make your mind up.’

      ‘I’m not taking these boots on and off, Trace. Be easier for you to try the shoes on.’

      ‘No it won’t. While you’re trying the shoes on, I can talk to him, find out some info. Please, Mel. I’d do it for you.’

      Knowing full well that Tracey would sulk if she didn’t agree, Melissa reluctantly mumbled, ‘OK.’

      The distinct smell of fried onions hit Melissa as they neared the burger van. The cold wet weather obviously hadn’t put people off shopping, as the market seemed busier than usual.

      ‘We’re nearly there,’ Tracey announced excitedly. She had no idea what the lad’s name was, but he’d definitely seemed interested in her last week. He’d chatted to her and her mum for ages, and as they’d walked away he’d treated Tracey to a lopsided grin and a wink.

      ‘Is that him?’ Melissa asked, pointing to a blond guy who had his back turned to them. He was tall and was wearing a tan leather box jacket and faded jeans.

      ‘Don’t bloody point. Just act normal,’ Tracey hissed, her heart racing.

      When the bloke turned around, Mel was rather taken aback. He didn’t remind her of Bros – he was far better looking in her opinion. His blue eyes twinkled as he winked at Tracey and said, ‘Back again.’ He then turned his attention to Donte, who was happily playing with