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Chapters (74)
  1. Cover
  2. Discover the series you can’t put down …
  3. PROLOGUE
  4. Chapter 1
  5. Chapter 2
  6. Chapter 3
  7. Chapter 4
  8. Chapter 5
  9. Chapter 6
  10. Chapter 7
  11. Chapter 8
  12. Chapter 9
  13. Chapter 10
  14. Chapter 11
  15. Chapter 12
  16. Chapter 13
  17. Chapter 14
  18. Chapter 15
  19. Chapter 16
  20. Chapter 17
  21. Chapter 18
  22. Chapter 19
  23. Chapter 20
  24. Chapter 21
  25. Chapter 22
  26. Chapter 23
  27. Chapter 24
  28. Chapter 25
  29. Chapter 26
  30. Chapter 27
  31. Chapter 28
  32. Chapter 29
  33. Chapter 30
  34. Chapter 31
  35. Chapter 32
  36. Chapter 33
  37. Chapter 34
  38. Chapter 35
  39. Chapter 36
  40. Chapter 37
  41. Chapter 38
  42. Chapter 39
  43. Chapter 40
  44. Chapter 41
  45. Chapter 42
  46. Chapter 43
  47. Chapter 44
  48. Chapter 45
  49. Chapter 46
  50. Chapter 47
  51. Chapter 48
  52. Chapter 49
  53. Chapter 50
  54. Chapter 51
  55. Chapter 52
  56. Chapter 53
  57. Chapter 54
  58. Chapter 55
  59. Chapter 56
  60. Chapter 57
  61. Chapter 58
  62. Chapter 59
  63. Chapter 60
  64. Chapter 61
  65. Chapter 62
  66. Chapter 63
  67. Chapter 64
  68. Chapter 65
  69. Epilogue
  70. Keep Reading …
  71. PROLOGUE
  72. About the Author
  73. By the same author:
  74. About the Publisher

Ben had been home less than a week and getting back into the rhythm of daily life, often thinking about her, when he received an unexpected phone call. Grace had some news: Charles Stuart had been apprehended by a police patrol vessel while trying to escape across the sea to Ireland. According to the arresting officers’ report, in an attempt to evade capture the fleeing suspect had disguised himself by wearing a long blond wig and women’s clothing.

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PROLOGUE

The pursuit had led northwards from the English south coast into the heart of the Surrey countryside, deep among thick broadleaf woods under a full moon. It was late March, the spring equinox, and the night was mild and balmy and filled with the sweetly pungent scent of the flowering bluebells that carpeted the woodland floor.

The man called Wolf had stalked his target for hours and for the moment he could go no further, waiting and hoping for the opportunity to finish the job he’d started. A job he did not particularly relish and wouldn’t have been doing unless he was getting well paid for it. A job he must nonetheless complete, lest he disappoint the ruthless men who employed him.

So far, the assignment felt like it was jinxed. It wasn’t Wolf’s fault. He’d followed the plan exactly until things had started going wrong. Which had happened very quickly, earlier that evening.

The hit was scheduled for 7.30 p.m. at the target’s home outside the pretty West Sussex village of Pyecombe, a few miles from Brighton. Abbott was expected to have been alone, but when Wolf had arrived at the nineteenth-century parsonage at the appointed hour and was concealed in the large garden preparing to make his move, he’d been interrupted by the sudden and unanticipated appearance of a gold Range Rover that pulled in through the front gates, rolled up towards the house and crunched to a halt on the gravel driveway next to Abbott’s Lexus.