Nathan had his own army of loyal foot soldiers; people who would do what he told them to without question. People who would allow him to remain at a safe distance from the scene of the crime, which was a shame in some ways because that was the stuff he loved. He’d much rather have been smashing someone’s head open than shaking hands and negotiating deals. He missed the adrenaline; the thrill of hurting someone; that unmistakeable noise of a bone snapping. Although he still got to give someone a good slap or kicking when the occasion called for it, it wasn’t the same as being right in the middle of it, all day, every day.

Nathan’s thoughts returned to the present as he noticed the huge glass doors of Antonelli’s opening. Grace stepped outside into the street. She was laughing as she held the door for the blonde who walked out behind her. Nathan recognized the other woman. It had been a long time since he’d seen her, but he’d never forget that face. What the hell was she doing with Grace? Did Grace know about Sandra’s little bastard? What was his name? Eddie? Yes, Eddie. That was it.

No. Grace couldn’t know. She’d have given him hell for it and would have definitely used it in the divorce against him. Besides, Jake would have told him if he’d discovered he had a half-brother. That lad couldn’t hold his own water. The slightest bit of pressure and he folded like a wet Echo.

Nathan continued to watch as the two women hugged each other and went their separate ways. Grace climbed into her Mercedes, and Sandra walked off down the high street towards the train station. Nathan thought about following her and asking her what the bloody hell she was playing at. Hadn’t he warned her to stay away from his family? Fortunately for Sandra, his phone rang and he saw John Brennan’s name flashing on the screen.

‘What?’ he snapped.

‘Trouble at the mill, boss,’ John answered.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ he spat. ‘I’ll be there in ten minutes.’

Nathan started the engine of his car and pulled away from the kerb. He thought about Sandra, and what possible connection she could have to Grace, all the way to the club.

Chapter Eighteen

Eighteen Years Earlier

The fan in Tommy’s office blew warm air onto Nathan’s face. A trickle of sweat ran down his brow, and onto the notebook he was writing in. Tommy was in Spain with Sharon for a couple of weeks, and he’d left Nathan in charge. He was waiting for someone to bring him a cold drink when he heard the door open.

‘About fucking time,’ he growled, but when he looked up it wasn’t someone with a drink. Instead, some young blonde walked in, pushing a pram. She looked vaguely familiar to him.