Michael shook his head sadly, and Declan knew what was coming next. The first punch lifted Jonny Parsons off his feet, and opened up a large gash in his right eyebrow. Michael watched the man go down. He collapsed on to the floor and, curling himself up into a tight ball, he tried to protect his head with his arms. Michael looked at the man for a few seconds, then used his feet and, as he kicked his daughter’s bedmate over and over again, he was glad to be able to vent some of his anger. He had sussed Jonny Parsons out, knew the man had bragged about his relationship with his daughter, had seen her as his passport into the big time. He wasn’t the first idiot to think that and, unfortunately, he probably wouldn’t be the last. But it felt good hurting him, reminding the man of who he was dealing with.

Declan watched everything with his usual calm. He had been on the other end of Michael’s anger himself, and he knew how violent it could be. Michael needed to vent his spleen – it would do him the world of good.

Declan waited until Michael’s anger was spent before he stepped in. Jonny Parsons was a bloody mess and, pulling Michael away from the man firmly, he sat him down behind the desk. Then, going to the office door, he opened it and called in a couple of the bouncers. They knew the score as soon as they stepped into the room, and they picked up Jonny Parsons without any words needing to be spoken.

Declan shut the door behind them and, turning to Michael, he said carefully, ‘Feeling better, are we? Now, we need to think about this logically, Michael.’

Michael sat forward in the old typist’s chair and, holding his head in his hands, he said brokenly, near to tears, ‘That’s just it, there’s no fucking logic to it, Declan. That’s the problem. I know in my guts that this is fucking serious. This is fucking personal. This is not about my Jessie. How can it be? You said it yourself. Who would fucking dare to touch my daughter?’

Declan could see the man’s point, but he still wasn’t convinced. Michael Flynn had the Colombians behind him; there wasn’t anyone who had the guts to take him on. He was too protected, too respected. He ran his empire fairly and squarely, and he made sure that everyone he was involved with earned so much they were loyal to him. Michael Flynn entertained some of the most dangerous men in the world. It was terrible to see him like this, so vulnerable, so worried.

‘Look, Michael, what if she’s shacked up somewhere, oblivious to all that’s going on? You know what she’s like.’