Fatal
Dying is easy. It’s living that’s hard…‘Gritty and gripping’ Kimberley ChambersAn eye for an eye.Cabhan Morton wants to leave the Russo crime family for good and live in peace with his daughter, Alice Rose. But the Russos won’t let him walk away without a fight.A tooth for a tooth.Franny Doyle would do anything for Cabhan and Alice, but helping them escape the vindictive Russo brothers won’t be easy. The only place they’ll be safe is back in Essex with Alfie Jennings.A daughter for a daughter…Franny knows she won’t be welcomed by Alfie with open arms – but she doesn’t have a choice. The Russos are out for blood and they won’t stop until Alice is dead…The heart-racing new thriller perfect for fans of Kimberley Chambers and Martina Cole.
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A Paperback Original 2019
Copyright © Jacqui Rose 2019
Design by Alison Groom © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2019
Cover photographs: Portrait © Nick Starichenko / Shutterstock
Background © Shutterstock
Jacqui Rose 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. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, 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, without the express written permission of the publishers.
Source ISBN: 9780008287313
E-book Edition © January 2019 ISBN: 9780008287320
Version: 2018-12-13
To everyone who has experienced loss
Table of Contents
You must show no pity. Your rule should be life for life, eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot.
Deuteronomy 19:21
Alcuni anni fa …
Some years ago …
Standing by the grave in the pouring rain, Alfie Jennings felt the cold droplets running down his neck and inside his coat collar. He turned slowly to his friend Abel Gray, who until recently had been an unshakable force, a powerhouse amongst men. Wealthy and driven, a man at the top of his game. Selling and supplying weapons, Abel had been ruthless when it mattered, when he had to be, but at heart he was loyal and generous. But as Alfie looked at his face, drawn and haunted, he could see Abel now was nothing but a broken man.
‘Are you going to be all right, Abel? Cos I can stay if you like.’
‘I’ll be fine, Alfie, I’d rather be left on my own anyway, but I appreciate you coming.’ Abel paused as he reached out to touch the headstone gently. His voice hoarse, he added, ‘We both do.’
Alfie shrugged uncomfortably. He was the only one who had come; over the last few months, Abel through his trauma and sorrow had pushed everyone away who cared, but Alfie was determined Abel wouldn’t do that to him, no matter what he said, no matter what he did.
The two of them went back a long way, first business associates before becoming firm friends, so there’d been no question of him not making the trip to Abel’s isolated thirty-acre country home. The estate, which sat on top of a hill, was tucked away in the New Forest of southern Hampshire, and Abel had insisted the burial take place within the grounds. But it still cut Alfie up to see him like this. The once physically imposing presence, the once sharp mind, all felt like they were crumbling, fading away in front of his very eyes. Sighing, he gave his friend a sad smile.
‘I’ll get off then, but Abel, if you need me, you know where I am mate. It don’t matter what time of night or day it is, just call … And I’m sorry, truly I am. She was really special.’
As Alfie Jennings walked out of sight, Abel dropped to his knees, tears and rain mixing in the wet earth as he began to scrape away at the soil of the freshly filled grave. ‘No, no, no, no, no, baby, no, it’s all right, I’m here, I’m here … I’m coming, Natalia. I’m here.’
And as the rain poured down and Abel frantically dug, his fingers beginning to bleed, he remembered that night as if it were only yesterday.
‘I’ll ask you again, what did you do with my money?’
Panicked and desperate, Abel shook his head, his vision blurred as he stared through the stream of blood that ran from his head. ‘I told you, I don’t have it, I’ve no idea where it is.’
Nico Russo pulled out a blue handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed away the beads of sweat that sat on his olive skin like dewdrops. His eyes as dark as ravens, he gazed impassively at Abel, bloodied and tied to the chair. He spoke again, his voice unnervingly calm, heavy with a North Jersey–Italian twang. ‘You need to speak up, I can’t hear you, but it sounded like you were saying you don’t have my money.’
With blood bubbling from the side of his mouth and the gash so deep on his forehead the bone of his skull was exposed underneath the flapping skin, Abel spluttered his words through lips that had been carved wide open, fear wrapping round him like a tight restraint. ‘I don’t! I don’t have it, Nico! I never did!’
