A month later, Brady still couldn’t believe what had happened. Let alone the fact that he had survived. He’d been hit in the chest with a bullet. The one that had been intended for Nicoletta. Luckily for her, it had hit him instead. He had the exit wound on his back to prove it.
Nicoletta survived against the odds. He didn’t want to think about the catalogue of injuries that she’d sustained. They were brutal, nasty and sadistic, typifying the men who had exacted them.
‘Jack?’
Brady turned to Nick. They were both sitting in his black 1978 Ford Granada 2.8i Ghia parked up by St Mary’s lighthouse. Nick had driven him here at Brady’s behest. He had just got back from some private covert job in Europe and had jumped on his Ducati 848 sports bike as soon he docked at Portsmouth and ridden straight up to Newcastle.
Brady knew exactly what Nick did for a living; but he never asked questions. Nick hired himself out as a bodyguard; at least that’s what he had told Brady. At six foot three, muscle-bound but lithe, he was never short of work.
‘You know if I could have got there in time, I would have?’
Brady nodded. Nick didn’t need to state the obvious. The loyalty between them was unquestionable.
‘The bastards really roughed you up,’ Nick said as he looked at Brady’s face. It still bore the scars a month later. His right hand and fingers were in a cast. As was his left leg. The smashed bones in both his hand and leg were now held together with pins. But he’d live.
He had spent three weeks in hospital recovering from his chest wound and the other injuries he’d sustained. It had been enough to worry even DCI Gates.
‘Have you seen Martin yet?’ Nick asked.
Brady shook his head.
‘Shit, Jack!’
Brady shrugged. ‘I talked to him on the phone.’
Nick looked at him. His green eyes were serious. ‘If it wasn’t for Madley, Claudia would be dead. No two ways about it. And so would you.’
‘I know,’ Brady muttered.
He owed Madley his life. He owed Madley for Claudia’s life.
Nick had told him that he’d eventually picked up his voicemail messages just in time to act. He had called Madley and asked for help.
Madley had listened and then acted under Nick’s instruction.
Brady had been wrong about Madley and was still struggling to come to terms with the fact that he’d doubted him. He now knew that Munroe had been paid by the Dabkunas brothers to get information on Nick and kill Ronnie Macmillan. It was just coincidence that Munroe had worked for Madley. Then again, the Dabkunas brothers might have been trying to frame Madley – just as they had done before. Madley had been a problem. He had refused to go into business, so in return they tried to force him out.
But the Dabkunas brothers were dead. Ronnie Macmillan was dead and Munroe was locked up indefinitely. Madley’s problems had disappeared. It was a satisfactory conclusion for him, as much as it was for the police.
DCI Gates and Detective Superintendent O’Donnell were both more than happy with the outcome. They had the infamous Dabkunas brothers and their armed guards, albeit dead.
Brady, on the other hand, felt cheated. He’d wanted the brothers to pay for the extensive crimes they had committed in the UK and Europe. He’d wanted to see them convicted so the women they’d trafficked and held hostage as sex-slaves could have some kind of justice. Death was too easy an out for them.
‘What about you and Claudia?’ Nick asked.
Brady thought about it for a moment. He had told Nick about everything; including Claudia.
‘She said she needs time to come to terms with everything that’s happened,’ Brady said simply.
‘Will you wait?’
Brady turned and looked at Nick. He already knew the answer.
‘For as long as it takes.’
Acknowledgements
I would first like to thank all my family and friends. Especially Francesca, Charlotte, Gabriel and Ruby, who are without a doubt my inspiration. Thanks to Eliane and Professor Pete Wilson and Dr Barry Lewis for their constant encouragement and kindness. Thanks also to Richard Dykes Brown who was kind enough to answer whatever questions I threw at him and for sharing his invaluable experience as a Crime Scene Manager and police officer. I would especially like to thank Keshini Naidoo for all her help. Thanks also to Clare Usher whose skill and expertise enabled me to keep writing this book. Thanks to Pamela Letham and Gill Richards and Suzanne Forsten for their endless support. Also, thanks to Elaine Marr and Gillian Penman for just being there. Thanks to Stef Richards for her time and patience. A heartfelt thanks to Michelle and Keith Murphy for their friendship and for offering me the perfect writer’s retreat in France – I am forever indebted to you. And, as always, thanks to Re.
I am eternally grateful, and always will be, to my literary agent, Jenny Brown.
Special thanks to all at Mulholland Books and Hodder & Stoughton for being such an incredible team. Finally, I am truly indebted to my editor, Ruth Tross – thank you.
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