The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4
She’s been a madam in a brothel, a mistress and a gangster’s moll. Annie Carter owns the East End of London, and God help anybody that crosses her…Adultery, murder and dangerous love collide in Jessie Keane’s gritty novels set in the London’s East End. Perfect for fans of Martina Cole and Lynda La Plante.DIRTY GAMEFor longer than she cares to remember, Annie Bailey has lived in the shadow of her older sister Ruthie. Now Ruthie has her hands on Max Carter, the much feared head of the Carter family and a top class villain.Annie's resourceful nature sees her carve out a life, albeit not a legal one. However, Annie has also unwittingly placed herself between two rival gangs, and if you play with fire, you can expect to get burned.But Annie Bailey is no ordinary woman, and she’s not the one who will be going up in smoke…SCARLET WOMENIt’s 1970, London, and there’s a killer on the loose. When gang boss Annie Carter gets a call, suddenly it’s personal. A close friend of hers is the latest victim, and another is in the frame for the murder.With the hated Delaney gang still causing trouble, and NY mob boss Don Constantine Barolli’s family making no secret of the fact that they hate her, she senses a feud blowing up in all their faces very soon.PLAYING DEAD1971, London: Gang boss Annie Carter Barolli is living the New York high life with a feared mafia godfather. Then family tragedy strikes, and Annie is forced back to London with her daughter Layla, pursued by a hit man. How will Annie keep herself and her daughter safe?The reappearance of an old East End face sparks a shocking suspicion – the possibility that Max Carter, Annie’s first and greatest love, didn’t die two years ago, as she had been led to believe… Has he really just been playing dead?BLACK WIDOWAnnie knew that it wouldn't last. Everything was going so well; one minute she's lying by the pool, the next she's out cold. When she comes round her husband Max and daughter Layla are gone. It's not long before she gets the demands. They want money or she'll be getting her little girl back in pieces…There's only one thing Annie can do, she heads back to the East End of London and gathers the Carter firm together. There's a score to settle, and it's being settled Annie Carter style.
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JESSIE KEANE
The Annie Carter Series Books 1–4:
Dirty Game, Scarlet Women, Playing Dead, Black Widow
Contents
JESSIE KEANE
Dirty Game
To my Dad, who loved a cracking good book. Here’s to you, Dad. God bless.
Contents
Annie Bailey knew she was dying. She was in an ambulance, she knew that too. It was very bright. She could hear the siren, feel the motion. She had drifted in and out of consciousness several times since they had bundled her in here. She knew that someone was leaning over her, saying her name, clamping a mask to her face, telling her it was going to be all right, Annie. While someone behind him shook his head.
Yeah, she was dying all right.
She could taste blood and her face was wet with it. Couldn’t seem to get her breath. Which was what you’d expect, if you’d been shot in the chest.
‘You’re all right, Annie, you’re going to be fine,’ said the medic.
Bullshit, she thought.
But she was okay with that because at least now there was no pain. They’d given her a shot of something, a sharp sting in her arm and suddenly she was floaty and hazy, but still aware. Aware of too-bright lights and the man bending over her telling her lies, aware when that same man turned and looked at his companion and nodded, aware that the other one moved to the front and said: ‘Every red light’s a green one, Steve.’
She closed her eyes. Too bright in here. But this seemed to cause the man agitation.
‘Come on, Annie, look at me. My name’s Simon. Look at me, can you see me, I’m right here.’
It was too bright in here. She kept her eyes closed, despite what he said. Stubborn as a mule, as always, going her own way. Going, for sure.
So this is what it’s like to die, thought Annie. Actually it wasn’t too bad. No pain, anyway, not now. She gulped down a breath. It was difficult, breathing. She tasted blood again – unpleasant. But now she couldn’t feel the movement of the ambulance as it roared, tyres shrieking, siren screaming, through the night streets of London. Couldn’t feel anything much, really, and that was good.
She was sinking into a warm cocoon. The medic’s voice was fading.
‘Fuck, she’s flatlining,’ she heard him say.
She felt a little movement then, someone doing something at her chest where the bullet had ripped through, severing flesh, exploding bone, but there was no pain now, no pain at all, and that was good.
She thought of Max, Ruthie and her mother, but there were no regrets now, it was too late for regrets. It was too late for anything because she was too busy dying. Her mind felt detached, disengaged from what was happening here. She let it wander back, to find the place where it had all begun for her.
Annie Bailey lay naked in the arms of Max Carter. They were in his bed in the flat over his club, the Palermo Lounge, and she could hear the sound of the star turn coming through the ceiling, a new rising star called Billy Fury. A good singer, but such silly names they had. That Heinz for example. What a joke! Dyed blond hair and a name taken straight from a tin of baked beans.
Max had left the small bedside light on while they had sex. He said that she’d been driving him mad and he wasn’t going to have her in the dark, when instead he could see her and enjoy her all the more.
She lay there, ecstatic, feeling the heat of his big hard body and stroking her fingers over the crisp damp curls on his chest. His right hand was flung over his waist. He had strong hands, a fighter’s hands. On his index finger he wore a gold ring, engraved with Egyptian cartouches on either side of a square slab of lapis lazuli.
Annie stared at his curving nose, at the smoothly tanned skin, the gleaming thickness of his black hair, the flat brows above the long dense black sweep of his lashes. His eyes were closed. She could hardly keep from laughing out loud with triumph and joy.
