Grace didn’t think she’d ever heard him apologize for anything in his life before. But it made no difference. He couldn’t help himself. There was no being nice with him. He was a sociopath.

‘Dad,’ Grace heard from behind her and she cursed under her breath. ‘What are you doing here?’ Jake said chirpily as he came to the door.

‘Hiya, son. I wondered if you fancied coming to the match on Saturday. A mate of mine has got a box and he can get me a couple of tickets.’

Jake’s face lit up like a four year old who’d just been told he could have ice cream for breakfast. ‘What? Really?’

‘Yeah. I might even be able to get you a meet and greet with the players beforehand too.’

‘No way,’ Jake exclaimed. ‘Bloody hell, Dad, you’re a legend. Can you believe this, Mum?’

Nathan smiled at Grace and flashed his eyebrows at her. No doubt thinking he was Dad of the fucking year.

‘Yeah, it’s great, son,’ she sighed.

‘Wait till I tell the lads,’ Jake said, his eyes shining with delight.

‘Anything for my boy,’ Nathan grinned.

‘All right. It’s only a football match,’ Grace said. ‘No need to get overexcited.’

Nathan laughed. ‘She’s got no idea, has she, son?’

Grace fought the urge to slap the pair of them. How dare Nathan swoop in and start playing super-dad. She had been there every day of Jake’s life. Wiping every snotty nose. Every tear. Every cut knee. Nathan thought a couple of tickets to the football could make up for eighteen years of never being there.

‘Come on, lad. Let’s go and get a pint, eh?’ Nathan said.

‘If you’re paying,’ Jake laughed. ‘See you later, Mum,’ he said as he grabbed his coat.

Nathan climbed into the waiting car with Jake close behind.

‘Where to, boss?’ John Brennan asked him. John was Nathan’s right-hand man. He was one of the few men Nathan trusted. He’d managed The Blue Rooms in Nathan’s absence and been the point of contact for most of Nathan’s other business ventures while he’d been inside. He wasn’t afraid of a bit of hard work and he was loyal to a fault. John was a year younger than Nathan, and almost as wide as he was tall. He was into body-building, and Nathan was sure John could crush a man’s skull with one hand. One day, he was determined to find out if it was true. John had one of those faces that put people at ease. He always looked like he was smiling. It could be useful sometimes; it gave him the element of surprise. The Smiling Assassin, Nathan called him.

‘The club,’ Nathan said.