Zara was taking it all in, her mind processing the ramifications of the reckless takeover. ‘And you seriously have no fucking clue who’s behind it?’

Shamus shook his head. ‘Only that they’re black, maybe Yardies. Yet, rough as feck they may be, I don’t think they’ve the brain power to run a racket like yours. Sorry, I mean ours. Someone else is backing them, and for the life of us, we don’t know who. We thought since Mikey’s out of prison, he could do some digging. He still knows anyone who’s anyone. Surely, he would have a clue?’

Zara inhaled a deep lungful of air. ‘No, leave Mike out of it. He’s got his own business to deal with. I’m gonna sort this.’

Shamus raised his eyebrow as he looked over at the tiny woman. What the hell could she do, really? He didn’t argue but nodded. ‘I’ve got to get back to the hospital. Davey will need a break. He’s been up all night.’

Zara was staring off into space. Then she jumped out of her thoughts. ‘Shall I come?’

The offer was kind, but Shamus knew it would only bring further worry. Davey and Neil hadn’t seen the state of Zara. It would just add to their concerns.

Chapter Six

CHAPTER SIX

Mike slowly opened his eyes and blinked furiously at the light. His head was pounding as if it had been clamped in a vice. Knowing if he moved his stomach, he was likely to empty its contents, he decided to stay where he was.

As he lay there staring up at the ceiling, he tried to recollect last night’s events. The flowing beers had wrecked him. After twelve years with no alcohol, he’d lost track of how many pints he’d consumed. In fact, he couldn’t remember what happened after about four beers. He recalled worrying about Zara and then Eric telling him she’d gone to bed, but that was about it. Slowly, he took two deep breaths and eased himself into an upright position, holding his throbbing temples. Light-headed and feeling nauseous, he knew he would have to make his way to the kitchen and swallow a couple of tablets. His mouth was like the bottom of a parrot’s cage. That mental picture did him no favours and made him almost gag.

Seconds later, he jumped up and bolted to the cloakroom, where he threw up a bucket-load of London Pride. Hanging on to the bowl, he gasped for breath. ‘Never again,’ he said aloud.