Who did she think she was? He’d put a roof over her head, food on her table and she earned a wage. What more did the little bitch want? But he supposed he shouldn’t blame her because he was the mug. He’d been the one who’d been soft on her, trusting her because she was family. Thinking she was better than the other girls who worked for him. He’d been weak. He’d been kind. And what did she go and do? Throw it all back in his face. And when she did come back – and she would – the little runt would regret ever trying to take the piss out of him again.

The one thing Vaughn Sadler hated more than crackheads were chatty crackheads and since he’d turned right into Shaftesbury Avenue, Shannon hadn’t stopped talking. The only thing that he’d contributed to the conversation was to ask if it was left or right at Sanford Street. Not that she’d known – the only thing she did seem to know about was which drug dealer or nonce to avoid. Though the one thing, the only thing of interest she’d said all night was she worked for Charlie Eton, and not only that, but she was also Charlie’s niece.

He’d no idea if Alfie knew this piece of information or not, and when Shannon had first said it, his immediate thought was, Charlie must’ve sent her. But as quickly as that thought had come to him, it disappeared. The girl was just a vulnerable druggie who Charlie had used and abused, and as such, he’d found himself feeling sorry for her, which is how he now found himself stuck in a car with her chatting ten to the dozen, having given her some money and volunteering to drive her to her friend’s house. Shit!

Sighing, Vaughn flicked on the wipers of his Range Rover as it began to pour with rain. He pulled over to where Shannon was pointing at the same time as noticing how few teeth she had for such a young girl. ‘Over here, mate. That’s lovely. Right here will do. Cheers for the lift.’

‘No worries. You’ll be all right?’