Born Bad: A gritty gangster thriller with a darkly funny heart
A powerful, darkly comic novel set in the criminal underworld of Manchester from bestselling author Marnie Riches.The battle is on…When gang leader Paddy O’Brien is stabbed in his brother’s famous nightclub, Manchester’s criminal underworld is shaken to the core. Tensions are running high, and as the body count begins to grow, the O’Brien family must face a tough decision – sell their side of the city to the infamous Boddlington gang or stick it out and risk losing their king.But war comes easy to the bad boys, and they won’t go down without a fight. So begins a fierce battle for the South Side, with the leading Manchester gangsters taking the law into their own hands – but only the strongest will survive…
Читать Born Bad: A gritty gangster thriller with a darkly funny heart онлайн беплатно
Born Bad
MARNIE RICHES
Published by Avon an imprint of
HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2017
Copyright © Marnie Riches 2017
Marnie Riches asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Source ISBN: 9780008203931
Ebook Edition © December 2016 ISBN: 9780008203948
Version 2017-01-20
‘Fast-paced, enthralling and heartrending; I couldn’t put it down’
C. L. Taylor
‘A strong, edgy debut that deserves to do well’
Clare Mackintosh
‘Fast, furious, fantastic…One killer thriller!’
Mark Edwards
‘A truly exciting new arrival in the world of Euro Crime!’
‘I bit my nails all the way to the end!’
‘Breathtakingly brilliant’
‘Reminds me of the best Scandinavian crime writers like Jo Nesbo and Stieg Larsson’
‘Truly outstanding’
‘An intricate, fast-paced and utterly compelling thriller’
‘Without a doubt a true 5 star read!’
‘Work of art’
For Caspian
If my name is on the spine, and the story comes from my heart, then you are surely the lungs of this book, since you have breathed life into all of my words. In a world full of bollocks, you’re the dog’s, Mr Dennis. Never forget it.
The leather case containing the guns was cumbersome and heavy, making her shoulder muscles scream with the effort of pulling it towards her. Looking around to check that she wasn’t being watched, she tried to drag it out of the boot of her Porsche Panamera. Dead weight. Looked around again towards the garaging. The doors were closed. No sign of his car, thankfully.
‘Come on, Sheila,’ she counselled herself. ‘Grit your teeth, girl.’
With a grunt, she heaved the case out. Dropped it heavily onto the gravel, narrowly missing the peep toes of her purple suede Louboutins. Slammed the boot shut, chipping a nail in the process.
‘Bastard thing,’ she said, lugging the guns awkwardly across the courtyard and up the steps to the front door. She would definitely have a couple of bruises on her shins by tomorrow. Shit. But at least the determined Mancunian rain wasn’t falling on her freshly blow-dried hair.
Inside, her house was silent and pristine. The wooden floors shone. The smell of furniture wax was pungent in the air. The cleaners had gone for the day and the gardener wasn’t due until Friday.
‘Anybody home?’ she called out. Her voice bounced off the hard surfaces of the glazed banister and naked oak of the staircase. No response, though she hadn’t expected one.
Flinging her keys onto the sideboard, Sheila kicked off her heels, carrying the guns to the lower level of the house. She bypassed the spa area and pool to enter the cinema room. It smelled of stale cigar smoke and the dregs at the bottom of Paddy’s empty single malt bottle and dirty tumbler. She made a mental note to chastise the cleaners for having missed it. Wrinkled her nose at the manly stink that reminded her too much of the Green Room in her brother-in-law’s club.
