Advance Warning: The Devil of Essex, #1

By Natalie S. Clark

Witness James' rise from a nobody into the most feared man in Essex.

Meet James, a twenty-four-year-old from Essex who feels like life is passing him by. Stuck in a dangerous cycle of working for his loan shark dad, he believes he'll never reach his true potential and has resigned himself to watching his friends move on without him. However, when his nightclub-owning mum offers him the opportunity to manage the club for the evening, he sees it as a chance to prove himself—and things take an interesting turn when the breathtaking Makayla walks into his life.

Meet Makayla: at the age of twenty-one, she is the UK's number-one most searched entertainer in her field. However, behind the glitz and glamour of her pornstar career, she feels lonely and controlled. More than anything, she desires a man who can love her for the woman she is behind the veneer, but it seems like an impossible dream. Maybe the hot-headed James can turn her life around.

As their relationship deepens, their hidden lives threaten to tear them apart. If James discovers the truth about Makayla's career, will he still be able to accept her? And if Makayla learns of James' involvement with his father's loan shark business, will she be able to look past it? With the collision of their secrets inevitable, their budding romance is at risk of being shattered. Can they weather the storm, or will they regret disregarding the advance warning?
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Natalie S. Clark
• Release date: May 9, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223697954

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

James pulled his Ford Focus into the Four Kestrels Housing Estate in Harlow, Essex. The car’s lime-green colour stood out like a sore thumb, and to those who knew him, it was an advance warning that he was out and about, ready to ruin someone’s day. He reversed it into one of the many parking bays in front of the large, high-rise block of flats and killed the engine.

After exiting the car, he locked it with the key fob and peered up at the tall, grey building to see if any of the curtains were twitching. Due to the estate’s notoriety for gang crimes and drug deals, he gave a cursory glance at his surroundings. Satisfied that all was well, he pocketed the fob in his dark suit jacket and loosened the knot of his black tie. It had been a long day of collecting debts, and he was relieved that this was the last call.

As he made off towards the entrance, he caught the eye of an overweight man with a bald head leaving the building. He was dressed in grubby jeans and a plain white T-shirt that left the bottom of his enormous stomach exposed.

Afternoon, Mr Vance.

Alright, Ronnie, said James, recognising him as the son of an elderly woman he used to collect from. She had been one of the rare few customers who had completed their payment plan on time without giving him any grief. How’s your mum?

Yeah, she’s good, thanks. And how are your mum and dad?

You know them, always putting in the hard graft.

So, you here to collect? asked Ronnie.

I am. Do you know the Barkers by any chance?

Wendy and Derek?

That’s them. Any idea if they’re home?

Yeah, they are. I was just on their floor visiting a mate, and when I passed their door on the way back down, I overheard them having a barney. Things have been tense between them since Derek was laid off from work.

James’s jaw tightened. That didn’t bode well, which was a shame, as it had been a good day up until now, with everyone paying him what was due. Thanks for the info, mate. I’d better go see what’s going on.

Ronnie gave a brief wave and then continued on his way.

James headed into the building, placing a hand over his nose as the stench of stale piss, cigarette smoke, and weed hit his nostrils. He pressed the button for the lift and stepped inside. It smelt even worse in there, and he could see why. There was a nasty puddle of puke on one side, with bits of it splattering up one of the walls.

James had to turn away from it for fear he might start gagging. He was relieved when the lift doors opened on the tenth floor. Stepping out, he walked along the corridor, coming to a stop outside one of the dirty yellow doors, the paintwork peeling away. He raised his hand and rapped his knuckles firmly against the wood. After what Ronnie had just told him, a part of him wasn’t expecting anyone to open up. But that wouldn’t deter him. He would break the door down if he had to. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that, as surprisingly, the door opened up a fraction and brassy-blonde Wendy Barker stuck her head out.

James gave her a courteous smile. Hello, Mrs Barker. I’m here to collect. He pulled out a small black book from the top pocket of his suit jacket and opened up a page, scanning down it. You owe one-fifty, he said, his gaze drawn to Wendy’s crepey neck as she nervously swallowed.

Um, do you think you could come back later? she asked. It’s just that Derek ain’t home from work yet, and he’s got the money.

James tucked the notebook back into his jacket and shook his head in disbelief. Work? That’s funny. I’ve just heard from one of your neighbours that he’s been laid off.

Who told you that? she shrieked. Was it that prick Ronnie? He’s a lying sack of shit.

James was fast losing his patience. He slammed the heel of his hand against the door, forcing it wide open, and barged past her. He wrinkled his nose as the powerful stench of weed spiralled up his nasal passages, and stormed through the small flat, going room to room until he found Derek in the kitchen, sitting at the table with a joint between his fingers.

James directed a glare at the older man. Hello, Derek. Where’s my money?

Derek didn’t seem all that bothered by his presence as he took a drag on the joint, which pissed James off.

Well?

Derek gave a shrug and rested the joint on the glass ashtray in front of him. I’ll have it in a few days.

A muscle in James’s jaw twitched, and his hands clenched at his sides. Oi, you cheeky cunt! Are you mugging me off?

Who pissed in your cornflakes? What’s another couple of days gonna hurt? asked Derek, a brazen smirk on his thin lips.

James glanced to his right as he saw Wendy had come to join them. She was wearing a low-cut apricot top, which revealed more crepey skin between her breasts, and a white mini-skirt, which made the fake tan on her veiny legs look orange. You really are a pair of worthless scumbags, you know that? We at AdVance Loans lent you that money in good faith. And this is how you treat us? I find your lack of respect insulting.

Derek shrugged. Look, if we had it, we’d give it to ya. I’m sorry you’ve had a wasted journey, but you’ll just have to come back.

"That is not acceptable, Mr Barker."

Derek gave a careless wave of his hand. Well, it’ll have to do. You can’t get blood from a stone now, can ya?

James’s lips pursed together as he slipped off his jacket and folded it across the back of one of the kitchen chairs.

What’re you doing? Wendy asked him. Are you staying? Shall I put the kettle on?

James ignored her as he undid the buttons on the cuffs of his white shirt and rolled up the sleeves. "I may not be able to get blood from a stone, Mr Barker, but I can get blood from you."

Wendy let out a frightened gasp, whilst Derek scooted his chair back, scraping it across the lino, and jumped up, about to make a run for it.

James whipped his arm out and grabbed Derek by the back of his neck and sent a fierce punch into Derek’s kidneys. The older man let out a grunt of pain and dropped to his knees.

Let me guess, snarled James. That shit you’re smoking is where the money went. I can’t stand drug addicts. And don’t even get me started on gamblers. They are their own kind of scum. He slammed his boot into Derek’s ribs and grinned as the older man doubled over, panting and clutching himself.

James was just about to follow it up with another kick when Wendy blocked his pathway by dropping to her knees in front of him, desperation in her wishy-washy blue eyes.

Please don’t hurt him, she cried. We’ll get you your money. She placed a bony hand on his belt and attempted to undo it. I’ll suck your cock for you if you just give us more time.

James bit his lip as he tried not to burst into laughter. This wasn’t the first time he had been offered sexual favours in return for payment—by men and women alike—and it wouldn’t be the last. But this was the first time a woman old enough to be his mother had attempted to blow him.

He slapped her hand away. No thanks, love. Save it for your old man. I ain’t interested. His eyes came to rest on her chest, where he could see a good-sized gold belcher chain with a horseshoe pendant dangling from it, resting between her breasts. But I am interested in this.

She gave a startled yelp as he yanked the chain from around her neck before shoving her so she toppled to the side.

James then went back over to Derek and crouched beside him, spying a chunky gold gate bracelet on his wrist. He undid the clasp and took it off.

Please, mate, don’t take that. It was my dad’s, Derek said.

James had no sympathy as he dropped it, along with the necklace, into the back pocket of his black trousers. He then straightened up, pulling his shirt sleeves down as he went to retrieve his jacket, and slipped it back on. He glared from Wendy to Derek as he spoke. "Consider the jewellery this week’s payment. But I’m warning you—both of you. If you don’t give me next week’s money on time, then I’ll be removing your wedding bands, fingers included. And then, for each continuous week you stiff me, I’ll just keep on removing fingers until you get the message. Do I make myself clear?"

When there was no answer, James headed back over to Derek and jabbed his foot into his stomach. I asked you a question.

Yeah, mate, yeah, Derek grumbled in pain. You’ll have it.

Fucking lowlifes, muttered James as he left.

Once he was back in the fresh environment of the Ford Focus, his body sagged in relief, glad he was finally done for the day. He turned the key in the ignition and was rewarded with the throaty growl from the car’s powerful engine. Putting the vehicle into gear, he dumped the clutch and peeled away, the tyres squealing on the concrete, and headed back to the office.

CHAPTER 2

Enfield, Middlesex.

Makayla rested her foot on the closed toilet seat and fastened one of her black fishnet stocking tops to her frilly suspender belt. She straightened up and winced, placing her hands on her bare stomach as a nauseating wave of pain momentarily held her in its grip. She cursed under her breath, as it seemed like her period had decided to show up a couple of days early. She had been warned about irregular periods and an increase in cramping after switching to a copper IUD. She’d been useless at remembering to take her birth control pills, so this seemed like a suitable alternative. Her doctor had told her that eventually her periods would settle into a natural rhythm, and in some women, they stopped altogether. She could only hope.

She fastened the other stocking, then put on her push-up bra, securing her huge breasts in the pretty lemon-coloured lace fabric that matched her suspender belt and G-string. With a sigh, she moved to the mirror above the bathroom sink and peered at her reflection. She looked horribly pale despite just having spent the last twenty minutes being caked in makeup. A sure sign that her period was here. She moved to the toilet, grabbed some paper, and did a quick check. And as she’d suspected, there were a few spots of blood. Thankfully, she had caught it before it had stained her skimpy G-string. With any luck, the heavy flow wouldn’t start for a few hours and she could get through the scene.

Another wave of pain caught her off guard and she staggered towards the bath and perched herself on the edge. It looked like it was going to be a bad one.

She jumped as a loud knock on the bathroom door startled her.

Mak, get your arse out here. Time is money, and we’re ready to start shooting, yelled the familiar voice of Damon Dollars, her manager-come-promoter. She had been with him since he’d signed her up to his agency, Double D Adult Promotions Limited, three years earlier, just after her 18 th birthday.

Makayla couldn’t speak as she held her stomach, the pain now dragging down the tops of her thighs.

She saw the handle turn on the locked door as he attempted to come in, only to be thwarted. Mak, open the fucking door and get out here. What’s going on in there? We have a gangbang to shoot.

I can’t do it today. My period just showed up. Can we reschedule?

Reschedule? Are you having a pissing laugh? I’ve got six horny men out here and a film crew. Just stick a fucking tampon in, then get your expensive pussy out here and stop messing around.

Moisture beaded her forehead as a cold sweat descended over her body, nausea rising inside of her. Damon, have a heart. I ain’t feeling well.

He thumped loudly on the flimsy plywood. Open the door and let me in.

Makayla stood up on heavy legs, the skin between her large breasts feeling damp with perspiration. She clutched her stomach as she moved to the door and unlocked it.

Damon barged in wearing a white patterned shirt that was open at the collar and black chinos. He had designer stubble on his jawline and the dark hair on his head was gelled back in place, the sides greying. He was at least fifteen years older than her in his mid-thirties, but he took good care of himself and looked much younger.

His eyes narrowed into angry slits and his jaw tightened as he saw her, and she knew she was on dangerous ground. She swallowed hard as his tall, looming presence moved towards her, and waited for his wrath.

Snaking a hand out, he grabbed her painfully by the forearm and leaned in close. Tell me this ain’t a replay of the other week, when you pretended to have the flu to get out of working with Johnny Footlong. Remember how that turned out when I found out the truth?

Makayla cowered, remembering the backhander he’d given her after he’d found out she’d lied. But in her defence, she’d received a call from Tosha, one of the other girls in the business, to let her know Johnny had given her chlamydia. Johnny, being the prick he was, had, of course, denied it. Even so, Tosha had still warned all the other female talent to steer clear of him if they valued their sexual health.

Makayla had tried to reason with Damon, but he didn’t believe her, as Johnny was a well-respected performer in the industry, so she’d had no choice but to take her chances and work with him.

No, no, it ain’t. It’s just my period turned up unexpectedly.

Then there’s no excuse, is there? Damon said, glaring down at her. Now, get to work. It’s not like I don’t pay you well enough. You’re loved by millions, with hordes of fans. Don’t fucking let them down.

He released her arm, and she rubbed it, seeing marks where he had gripped her too hard.

Eyeing her up and down, he shook his head in disappointment. You ain’t even put your heels on yet. Come on, babe, time is money. We’re on a tight schedule here. Did you put the tampon in?

Damon, you don’t understand what it’s like. I’m in too much fucking pain, and the thought of shoving anything up there right now... She closed her eyes as another wave of pain caught her unawares.

Stop being a fucking diva! Have you taken any painkillers?

No. I ain’t got any on me.

He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a bottle. Here, take one of these.

Makayla eyed the bottle suspiciously. What are they?

Valium.

Valium? I ain’t taking that shit again. I told you that the last time you forced them on me.

Yes, you are. It’ll help by relaxing your body and stopping the cramps. He opened the bottle and took one out. You’re needed out on set. Now swallow it down and get your valuable pussy out there. You’re wasting precious time.

Can’t we just see if someone has any paracetamol first?

Moving towards her, Damon grabbed her face in his hand and brought the pill up to her mouth. Open.

Makayla clamped her mouth shut and tried to get out of his grip.

Open your fucking mouth, Mak. It shouldn’t be that hard with the amount of dicks you’ve had in it, Damon yelled, trying to push it between her lips and colliding with her teeth.

When she refused, he removed his hand from her face and pinched her nostrils shut.

Makayla fought to move away from him, but he was a lot stronger than her and backed her into the cold, tiled wall, pinning her body with his and preventing her from running away.

Finally, needing an intake of breath, her mouth opened involuntarily. Damon seized the opportunity and shoved the pill inside, then forced her head back by yanking on a handful of her long blonde hair. Swallow it down, or I swear to god you’ll regret it later.

Makayla knew better than to disobey him and knew she was fighting a losing battle. She swallowed the pill, almost choking on it as it got momentarily stuck without having any water to wash it down with.

Damon stared intently into her eyes. Is it gone?

Makayla nodded.

Show me.

She stuck out her tongue, and he placed a finger into her mouth and had a good feel around her gums and under her tongue.

Good girl, he said, releasing the grip on her hair, satisfied that she was telling the truth. Now, put on your heels and brush your hair. And don’t forget the tampon. I’ll inform the director of the situation, make sure it’s just anal and blowjobs for today.

Makayla fought the urge to cry as he walked back out of the room. She was the highest paid porn star in the UK and well-known throughout the world. If you did an internet search for her porn star name, Trixxxie Midnight, it came up on the first page of any search engine. She had won many awards, including Favourite Female Porn Star, Best Oral Sex Scene, and Best Gangbang Scene. She was hot property and earning a shit tonne of money. She should have been happy and living her best life. And to the paparazzi and fans, she was always seen with a radiant smile on her face. But in reality, she was miserable, trapped in a nightmare of a contract with a cold-hearted bastard of a manager, who saw her as nothing more than a cash cow. She had loved her job once; it had suited her high sex drive, and she had loved the adulation and attention from the fans. But lately, she realised she was nothing more than a puppet and Damon pulled the strings. He owned her, and as much as she liked to think she was a strong, independent woman, she was his to command as he saw fit, and there was no way out. She blinked back the tears so as not to ruin her mascara, and went to retrieve a tampon from her bag.

Five minutes later, Makayla walked out of the bathroom and forced a smile on her face, not wanting to reveal her despair and weakness to the people in the room. A group of six naked men, all with their cocks in their hands and tugging them to keep them erect, all looked her way.

About bloody time, said one of them, glaring at her. Can we start now?

Makayla ignored him and continued towards the boudoir set and the enormous, elegant, four-poster bed in the room. She sat on the edge, facing the camera crew.

You good to go? asked the director, looking a bit put out.

Makayla nodded and offered him a small smile.

Okay, here we go then, people, and… Action!

As the camera started rolling, the naked male talent descended on her like a pack of sex-starved wolves.

CHAPTER 3

Basildon, Essex.

With classes finished for the day, Kara headed off the Thornhealy University campus with her best friend Shantelle, and they headed up the hill towards the bus stop.

It was a cold day, but the sun was shining brightly in the sky with not a cloud in sight. Kara glanced at Shantelle, the sunlight bouncing off her light-brown skin, and saw the tension on her pretty, round face. She reached out and squeezed her hand. I know you’re scared, hun, but I’m here for you. You don’t have to do this alone.

Shantelle managed a stiff smile and nodded. Thanks, Kara. That means a lot to me.

That’s what friends are for. I know you’ve had a tough year.

Tell me about it. It was bad enough I split with Noah, but then I go and bloody fall pregnant after a one-night stand. I’m so fucking stupid. I’m twenty, for Christ’s sake. I should’ve been more careful.

Don’t be so hard on yourself. Mistakes happen all the time.

I know. But why’d it have to be with J-Van, of all people? I mean, he’s the biggest man-whore on campus! He’s got a different woman every night of the week. But, God, when he smiled at me and put on the charm, I couldn’t resist.

Have you told Noah yet?

Shantelle shook her head, her dark corkscrew curls bobbing around her shoulders. No, but he’ll find out soon enough once the morning sickness kicks in and I’m puking my guts up. I wish we didn’t still have to live together, but until the lease is up on the flat, we’re stuck with each other. The worst part is, he has a new girlfriend and keeps bringing her home. I can hear them having sex in his room.

Disrespectful prick, said Kara, tucking a strand of her long auburn hair behind one ear. Makes me appreciate my own split from Aaron. Fair enough, he evicted me from our flat, but at least it was a clean break. As soon as you’re ready, we’ll find a place together. We should’ve done that from the get go.

You’re right. We put guys before our friendship. Worst mistake ever. Shantelle stopped by the bus stop and leaned against the bus shelter.

So, what are you going to say to J-Van? asked Kara.

I don’t know exactly. But, God, I feel sick to my stomach about it.

Well, he’ll know soon enough, said Kara. Maybe once you’ve told him, you’ll feel better.

I doubt that, said Shantelle miserably, as the bus rolled down the hill and came to a stop beside them. The doors opened up, and without another word, Shantelle got on.

Kara followed after her, hating seeing her friend in such turmoil, and prayed that J-Van took the news well.

Kara could see that Shantelle was a bundle of nerves as her friend knocked on the door to J-Van’s flat, watching as she chewed on her thumbnail, her weight shifting from one foot to the other.

It’s gonna be alright, said Kara, offering her a reassuring smile.

Thanks, I feel so much better having you here beside me.

The door opened up and a young black man peered out. He looked at them both for a moment before saying, Uh, yeah?

Um, hi, said Shantelle. I was told by Fleur Baron that J-Van lived here.

The man nodded. He does. I’m Sullivan, his flatmate.

Well, is he in? asked Shantelle.

He’s in his room. Why don’t you come on in, and I’ll get him for you.

Shantelle and Kara walked inside the small flat, and he led them into the living room.

Wait here, he said.

Kara took in her surroundings as she looked around. The television was turned off, but someone had opened a laptop on the water-ringed oak coffee table. It was paused on a film of a gorgeous, naked blonde woman with huge breasts, sitting on the knee of a hot version of Santa. Even though the situation was stressful, she nudged Shantelle and pointed to it with her head, and they both laughed.

Surveying the rest of the room, Kara could see it was a tip, with its dirty cream carpet that looked like it had never seen a hoover in its life and the empty beer cans and old fast-food containers—some with mouldy leftovers in them—strewn all over the place.

She wrinkled her nose, turning to the door as J-Van appeared. He was wearing blue distressed jeans and a white Nike sweatshirt over his athletic body.

He raised his eyebrows upon seeing Shantelle. Hey, Shan, long time no see. How are you?

Before she could answer, his gaze moved to Kara, causing him to frown. "What’s she doing here? He glared at her. You ain’t here to borrow money, are ya? I know all about you from Aaron."

Kara stiffened, her eyes flashing fire. What the fuck had Aaron been telling people?

Leave her alone, said Shantelle. She’s just here to support me. Look, J-Van, can we talk in private?

We can talk in here, said J-Van.

No, let’s go to your room. I don’t want your flatmate to overhear.

Um, sure. Is everything alright, Shan? asked J-Van.

Not really.

J-Van furrowed his brows and nodded. Alright, follow me.

Come on, said Shantelle, tugging on the sleeve of Kara’s denim jacket.

J-Van stopped and spun back around. Wait! Why is she coming with us?

Because I want her to.

He shrugged, and they continued on to his room.

Once inside, J-Van turned towards them, a smirk on his lips. Hey, is this a kinky thing? Do you want a threesome? I know we had that hook-up last month, and it was pretty wild. Do you want to do it again?

Opening her handbag, Shantelle pulled out her positive pregnancy test and handed him the stick.

He took it and looked down, seeing the words PREGNANT staring back at him. He glanced up at Shantelle, a dazed look of bewilderment on his face, and then started laughing. Har-har, hilarious! You damn near gave me a heart attack. He started to pass it back to her.

Shantelle wrung her hands in front of her, and Kara could see she was fretful. It’s not a joke, J-Van, said Shantelle. I’m pregnant.

The smile fell from his lips. "And you’re pinning this on me?"

"No, I’m not pinning it on you. It is yours."

How can you be so sure? I was just a one-night stand to you. How many others have you been with?

None! Only you.

So you say. Didn’t you have a boyfriend?

Yes, said Shantelle, but we broke up two months before you and I had sex. You have to believe me. It’s yours! We were so drunk that night; we didn’t use protection.

J-Van ran a shaky hand through his short, dark hair as it finally sank in. But... but we barely know each other. I doubt you even know my real name, and I only know you as Shantelle. The obvious thing to do is to get rid of it. Agreed?

Shantelle shrugged her shoulders, her deep brown eyes focusing on a stray sock on the floor.

J-Van’s mouth dropped open. You ain’t thinking about keeping it, are ya? We’re too young. I don’t wanna be a dad at twenty. Surely you don’t want to be a mum either.

I get what you’re saying, said Shantelle, taking a deep breath. But I can’t bring myself to get rid of it. I understand you might not want anything to do with the baby once it’s here, but I wanted to do the right thing and tell you.

J-Van’s features twisted in anger. "No, the right thing to do would be to get rid of it. I don’t want no fucking kid. Abort it, Shan. If you need money to get it done privately, then tell me how much and I’ll pay. I’ll even come with you if it makes you feel better. But you can’t keep it."

I can keep it, and I will, Shantelle said defiantly.

J-Van gave a grunt of despair and glared venomously at her. You nasty, life-ruining bitch! Don’t my feelings come into this?

Shantelle shook her head slowly. I’m sorry, J-Van... but no.

Well, fuck you then, he snapped, making her flinch. I hope you fucking miscarry this kid.

Shantelle gave a cry of anguish and buried her face in her hands.

Kara stared J-Van down, appalled by his words. What a terrible thing to say. That’s your child you’re wishing dead.

J-Van turned his hateful gaze towards Kara and sneered. Oh, go and blow some more money on the slot machines. That’s if you’ve got any left. There’s a rumour going around that you’re about to be kicked off your course because of your gambling problems. But don’t worry, if it gets really bad, my family deals in loans. They might be able to help you out of a tough spot.

Kara closed her mouth, not knowing how to respond, as his words caught her off-guard.

That’s right, little mouse. Keep your gobby mouth shut. He turned back to Shantelle. And as for you, unless you want to talk to me about abortions, we’ve nothing more to say. Get the fuck out of my flat. He threw the pregnancy stick at her feet.

Shantelle wiped the tears from her eyes and snatched it up. Come on, Kara.

Kara placed an arm around Shantelle’s shoulders and led her outside. Once they were back down on the street, Kara hugged her and let her cry it out.

Do you want me to take the bus with you back to your place? asked Kara once Shantelle had calmed down.

If you don’t mind, that’d be great. I don’t want to be alone.

Well, in that case, why don’t you pack a bag and come and stay with me? I’ve got a small double bed in my room. We can share.

What about your roommates?

Leave Mandy and Zoe to me. And besides, you’ll be my guest.

"It would be nice to get away from Noah for a while."

Then let’s do it. You can stay with me for as long as you like.

Shantelle gave Kara a quick hug and sniffed. I don’t know what I’d do without you, Kara. She pulled a tissue out of her bag and blew her nose. I still can’t believe how J-Van just reacted. Well, I don’t care what he says, I’m keeping the baby. And as for him wishing I miscarry, what a cunty thing to say. I hope he’s the one who fucking dies for even suggesting such a thing.

I think it was just the shock talking, Shanny, said Kara. Maybe he’ll come around once he gets used to the idea.

 Shantelle shook her head. I know guys like him, and he won’t. He’s just a no-good player. I don’t need his influence in my baby’s life. But what was that he said about you and getting kicked off the course? Is there any truth to that?

Kara lowered her gaze to the pavement and cleared her throat. I haven’t been keeping up with my coursework. Things have just been so bad since my dad passed away.

That’s understandable. But the gambling?

Kara looked up. It’s fine and all under control. I did it to help me get over my dad. It made me feel good, but I’ve stopped now.

Well, I hope for your sake you have, because it’s already cost you your relationship with Aaron.

Don’t remind me, said Kara.

You know, maybe you could go and see Aaron? Explain to him you’ve cleaned up your act. Maybe you two could still work things out.

Kara shook her head vehemently. No way. I still owe him money. I think the break up was for the best.

How much do you owe him, then?

Too much! Anyway, let’s not talk about him anymore. Come on, let’s go back to your place and get you packed.

Shantelle nodded, and they made their way back to the bus stop.

CHAPTER 4

It was close to 5:00 p.m. when James pulled his Ford Focus around the back of his mum’s business, Tiffany’s Bar, Grill & Nightclub. The premises also doubled for his dad’s illegal loan shark operation, AdVance Loans, which was relegated to a small office tucked between the stockroom and the cleaning closet. The set-up suited his parents perfectly. For his dad, Adam, the nightclub gave him a filter to launder his dirty money through. And for his mum, Tiffany, it meant she got to see Adam during their working hours, making it a win-win situation all round.

Once he’d parked his car, James entered through the tradesman’s entrance, giving a longing glance towards the private lift that led to his luxury flat above the club. When his mum had purchased the business, it had come with the accommodation as part of the deal. Since his parents already had a nice house in Brentwood, the flat had sat unused. When James had shown interest in moving out of the family home at eighteen, they had offered it to him, albeit with conditions, and he had jumped at the chance. He loved having a bachelor pad and had lived there alone for six years. And right now, he was tempted to head on up so he could jump in the shower to wash away the grime and stench of the day and fall into bed.

The thick, bulging wallet of cash in his inner jacket pocket rested heavily against his chest, reminding him he needed to take it to his dad. Ignoring the call of his home comforts, he walked past the club’s kitchen, and headed through the double doors that led out into the main area of the nightclub.

It was too early for the discotheque area of the premises to be functional, so that part of the club was cordoned off, but the bar and grill were open and packed to the rafters with all the tables taken. Not that he was surprised. His mum’s club was the best in town, and the food award-winning. She had worked hard to make it what it was and had sunk a lot of money into it.

He remembered her telling him how it had once been a gaudy, empty shell of a place. The previous owner had run it as a strip club. But his mum had worked her magic on it. And with her eye for design, she had turned it into a goldmine. With its lush decor in shades of purple, black, and chrome, and the decadent mood lighting, it just oozed class. Anybody who was anybody flocked there, including reality stars, athletes, musicians, and actors.

Moving towards the underlit bar, he could hear Irish singer Daryl Flannigan’s chart-topping song playing through the club’s powerful speakers. The rich vocals and haunting ballad helping to fade out the loud chatter and the clinking of glasses around the room. James sang along as he made his way towards his dad, knowing he would be perched on a stool in his usual spot around this time of the day.

Beware the devil of Doyle’s Bay.

He’s not a man to cross.

He’s handy with a weapon

And will use it at your loss.

So, if you see him in your path.

You’d better turn and run.

For once he gets his hands on you.

You know that you are done.

He leaves bodies in his wake at the sound of the bell.

For he will take no prisoners when he’s dragging you to hell.

James muscled through the crowds and stopped behind his dad, who was sitting with Petey and Jim-Bob, two of his enforcers, and tapped him on the shoulder.

Adam Vance turned on the stool and lifted his chin towards him in acknowledgement. People often commented that he was the spitting image of his dad, and mostly, it was true. They were both over six feet in height, had the same chestnut brown hair and deep blue eyes, and the same sculpted jawline and chin. The difference was in their noses. Whereas Adam’s nose was straight, James’s was slightly wonky, thanks to being hit in the face with a cricket ball when he was twelve.

Alright, my boy? said Adam.

James nodded, his eyes immediately drawn to the pinkish-red stains on his dad’s white button-down shirt, which could be seen through his open blazer.

So, how did things go today? asked Adam. Anyone try shafting us?

Just one, said James, raising his voice to be heard over the loud music. The Barkers. Apparently, the old man’s been laid off.

Well, he shouldn’t have taken a fucking loan then, if there was a chance of that happening. Piss-taking cunt. I hope you sent him a warning.

James smirked and placed his hand in his jacket pocket. I did. I also took these as this week’s payment. This should more than cover what they owe. He dropped the jewellery into his dad’s palm. They’ll know better than not to have next week’s money waiting for me when I call.

Good work, Jay, said Adam, closing his fingers around the gold and stepping off the stool. Hand over today’s money wallet and I’ll put it in the safe along with the loot.

Maybe it’s time to call your man about getting some of it smelted into bars. There’s a shitload of scrap gold just sitting in the safe.

Yeah, I agree.

Taking out the wallet, and being careful that no one was looking their way, James passed it to his dad.

Adam took a quick peek inside, flicking through the worn bank notes, then tucked them into his own inner jacket pocket. Right then. I’ll nip to the office and make that call. Oh, and before you head off for the night, go and say hello to your mum. But be warned. She’s got a right cob on at the moment.

James was about to ask him what about when one of the enforcers came over and pulled Adam away with a problem. James figured he’d find out soon enough and headed off towards the VIP section, where his mum had a permanent table reserved for herself and the family.

Despite the air conditioning, it was warm in the bar. While walking, he undid his black tie and slid it from under his collar and stuffed it into his jacket pocket before undoing the top two buttons of his shirt. His stomach growled as the inviting smells of grilled burgers, fries, and onion rings permeated the air, making him realise he was famished. He made his way over to the food kiosk, where he stopped at the front of the queue, pushing aside a man who was already there.

Alright, Rosa? said James to the young woman taking orders behind the counter. Get me a burger and fries, will you, darling? And a Heineken too. I’ll be over in VIP.

Of course, Mr Vance. Right away, she said, giving him a shy smile.

Oi, mate, there’s a fucking queue in case you were blind, said the man James had pushed aside.

Whipping his head around, James eyeballed the owner of the voice. Yeah, and you’ll go straight to the back of it in a minute, he snarled. Mind your own fucking business.

It’s okay, said Rosa, worry entering her eyes as she spoke hastily to the man. He’s the boss’s son.

Then he’s an entitled prick who should know better, ain’t he? said the man, giving James a dirty look.

What did you just call me? roared James, his hands balling into fists. He made a move towards the man, intent on beating the shit out of him. But before he could even take one step forward, a pair of strong arms wrapped around his torso, trapping his upper limbs and restraining him.

James craned his neck, expecting to see one of the club’s bouncers, but instead, he saw his good friend Colby Donovan.

Leave the paying customers alone, Colby scolded light-heartedly. It ain’t worth it. Remember what happened last time? He heaved him a couple of feet away and then released him.

 Colby then turned back to the customer and directed a hard stare at him. Listen, mate, you’re fucking lucky I was here to step in. The last person who spoke out of turn to him ended up needing a new set of teeth.

James’s younger sister, Jessica, strolled past him, her mid-length bottle-blonde layered hair bouncing around her head, and glared daggers at them both. Arseholes! Why’d you always have to start trouble?

James gave her an arrogant smirk and shrugged.

Alright, Jess? Colby called out, a wide smile on his face.

She turned back and glared at him before continuing on.

Come on, Jay, said Colby, idly raking his fingers through his short, light-brown hair. Your mum gave us a table in the VIP lounge. I’ve got Atticus with me. We’ve been waiting for you. We thought we could do something tonight. Maybe hit the town and pick up some birds.

James glanced over his shoulder, annoyed at being taken away from the fight, and saw his sister consoling the man, overhearing her say something about a free drink for his inconvenience.

Yeah, sure, whatever, said James, irked with his sister for pandering to the customer. He let it go and followed Colby.

Stepping over the rope that led into the VIP area, James headed over to his mum, giving her a smile as he approached. She was sitting on her favourite purple crushed velvet sofa, sipping on a fancy blue cocktail of some sort, complete with a tiny red paper umbrella.

Leaning in, he kissed her on the cheek, the potent scent of her zesty Jo Malone Orange Blossom perfume heavy in the air. Alright, Mum?

Hello, love, she said, putting her glass down on the chrome mirrored table in front of her.

Hello again, Mrs V, said Colby. I just wanted to say thanks again for the table. And to let you know that you’re looking mighty fine tonight. His eyes dropped to her ample cleavage, visible thanks to the lacy black, plunging V-neck blouse she was wearing. "I love that top. It really shows off your… assets."

Jesus Christ! said James, glaring at him. Are you staring at my mum’s tits?

Colby lifted his gaze and grinned at James. What can I say? Your mum’s a MILF.

Oh my god! Will you shut up already? James said, horrified. I don’t need that fucking image in my head.

Tiffany broke out in laughter. It’s okay, Jay. It’s just a bit of cheeky banter. She glanced up at Colby from under her thick, mascaraed lashes. Thanks for the compliment, though, Colby. It’s nice to know I’ve still got it.

Got it? said Colby, grinning. Of course you’ve got it. My dad showed me some of your pictures from your Page Three days, and you still look as good now as you did back then. You’re smoking hot, Mrs V. He gave a teasing wink. If you ever get tired of your old man…

Ah, you’re a flatterer, Colby Donovan. I’ll give you that, but I only have eyes for my Adam. And besides, you’re too young for me. I’m old enough to be your mother.

Well, if you’re ever in the market for a toy boy, teased Colby.

You cheeky bugger, laughed Tiffany. My Adam would deck you for saying that.

Talking of Dad, James said, interrupting. Why ain’t you with him? He’s at the bar.

Tiffany fidgeted, twirling the umbrella around in her drink. Um… We sort of ain’t talking at the moment. We had a bit of a row.

Again?

Colby tapped James on the shoulder, his expression now serious. I’ll leave you two to talk in private. I’ll be over with Atticus. Join us when you’re done.

Will do, said James.

See ya, Mrs V, said Colby.

Bye, love.

Once Colby had left, James plonked himself down on the sofa beside his mum and turned to her. So, what’s the argument about this time? Dad did sort of mention you had the hump.

Look, your mates are over there. You go and be with them. You don’t have to worry about me. I’m fine.

James could see the tension etched on his mum’s face and knew he couldn’t leave her just yet. No, come on, Mum, tell me.

She ran a hand across the back of her slender neck and brushed some strands of dark hair back into her neat bun. He just seems to have checked out of the relationship lately, that’s all. He don’t seem interested in me anymore. He never listens to anything I have to say and walks away halfway through any conversation we have. Today, I was telling him about some new plans I have for the club. I was thinking maybe a karaoke night, and he just walked away and started talking to Petey. I was so angry, I tipped a glass of wine over his head. He went fucking mental and slapped me.

He did what? roared James, leaping up out of his seat. That fucking wanker! I’ll have him for that.

Tiffany grabbed his arm, halting him. No, love, leave it. It ain’t worth it. It was my fault.

Bollocks to that.

No, it was. I shouldn’t have shown him up in front of his men. It made him look bad. He had to gain the upper hand back. I get that.

James wasn’t sure he agreed with his mum, but sat back down regardless. Well, if you’re certain…

I am, she said firmly. I don’t need you caught up in this.

James ran a hand over the dark stubble covering his jaw, feeling at a loss as to how to help her. I guess that explains the pinkish stains on his shirt. What are you two like, eh, Mum? So, how does the land lie now?

Until he apologises for the shoddy way he treated me, he’s in the doghouse. I’ll make nice in front of his men, but out of view of everyone else, it’s all bets off.

James rolled his eyes. Are you sure you don’t want me to talk to him for you?

Tiffany shook her head. No, love. It’s fine. He knows what he’s done wrong. Look, you go and be with your friends. I need to pop to the office now, anyway. I want to check through some bank statements. There was a discrepancy in the one I received today.

Yeah? A big one?

Not really, but there are a couple of expenses listed I didn’t recognise. I just want to check them against some of the other statements to see when they started and then contact the bank.

Good idea. It could be identity theft.

That’s what I was thinking.

Alright, I’ll talk to you later then. He kissed her on the cheek, then stood up and made his way over to his friends.

Alright, shit-for-brains? said Jessica,