Jessie grinned happily. ‘Thanks, Mum.’ She knew her mum would never question her staying over at Natalie’s. They had been friends since infant school, and they lived in each other’s pockets. Natalie was going to tell her mum she was staying at hers, and they would then be able to go to the party in peace. She couldn’t wait. Jason Ford was going to get the shock of his life on Friday. She was determined to show him she was a lot more grown up than he realised. She had been mad about him for over a year, and now he had actually asked her out. If her mum or dad knew about him, she would be grounded until she was old and grey. Her dad was like her minder! Yet she knew that he was not lily-white himself. She had heard all about him and her uncle Declan, but when she tried to ask her mother about the stories she’d been told, her mum had been less than forthcoming. She loved that they cared so much about her, but she also resented that they never gave her any freedom. She lived so far away from her friends, and that alone made her feel like an outsider.

The name Flynn gave her a certain cachet. She was the daughter of a man who was feared and respected in equal measure and that was her cross to bear. She had been treated like royalty all her life, and she had known from a young age that was because of her father. Even her teachers were wary of her father; that had been a real eye-opener for her. She wasn’t a complete fool. People called him the Crime King of England – and a violent thug. It was awful, especially as her friends knew all the gossip too. But he was still her dad, no matter what people might say about him. She had a good life, and she appreciated it. Whatever he might be, he was the man she looked up to, and who she adored.

Nevertheless, she was going to lie and cheat her way to the party on Friday night. She was going to have a good night out, by hook or by crook.

Chapter Seventy-Two

Chapter Seventy-Two

Salvatore Ferreira was not as big as Michael had expected him to be. In fact, he was quite short – only about five nine – but he was built like a brick shithouse. Anyone looking at him would know immediately that he was more than capable of great violence. It was there in his eyes. He had the look of the gutter; his eyes were without any kind of emotion whatsoever and that was the real giveaway. Michael knew he had the same look. It was why they had both advanced so far in their careers. It was what made most people take a step back from them.