Read Hidden Heart (Love Is The Law 1) for Free Online Page B

country and work for agencies in war
torn places, offering protection or security to businessmen or governments.
Although he had no urge to return to Afghanistan or Iraq, at least he knew the
areas and he knew some of the customs. And he'd be important; he'd be someone.
    For a moment he allowed himself
the luxury of imagining himself at the centre of a fire fight, being a hero and
saving the day. But the fantasy was replaced by the image of his mother, ill,
maybe dying. Would she be proud of him? And was that pride enough to make up
for his absence in her hour of need?
    Fuck. He knew he couldn't
leave Manchester, never mind the country.
    Think. Think logically.
    Was he the same man that had gone
into prison? No, he was cleverer now, that was for sure. He knew more about
crime and he knew more about conviction. Would he have still committed the
crimes he did? If he could go back?
    No. And yet… what else would he
have done?
    Turner felt uncomfortable. He
hadn't come out here for a bout of introspection. He downed the rest of the
can, and finished off the beans. Classy bit of dining , he thought,
letting a half-grin creep over his face. I wonder what Emily would make of
this?
    And what do I care what she
might think of it?
    Ahh, come on lad, he
admonished himself. She's… nice. Horrible word. But she is. Nice.
    The sort of woman worth going
straight for.
    The thought, once had, could not
be unthought. He crushed the can in his hand, not caring that the jagged edges
bit the flesh of his palm. Would I?
    I'd go straight for her, if I
could. But this magazine or newspaper bullshit really isn't going anywhere, is
it?
    He'd done some research, asked
around, spent a bit of time searching the internet on his smartphone. Even if
the mythical commission did appear, it wouldn't pay as much as he'd hoped. And
it wouldn't pay for months. He hadn't realised that at first. But depending on
when it was published, there could be up to two or three months before the cheque
fell into Emily's lap.
    Too late - way too late - he had
to get his finances sorted now.
    He began to work his way through
the cookies. Something flitted through the air above him - a bat, perhaps,
hunting for the moths that were creeping out into the dark. Predator and prey.
    That led him to thoughts of
Riggers. The odious little twat had turned up on his doorstep last night, all
wide grins and baggy grey sweat pants. Somehow the shithead had managed to
escape a custodial sentence. All the blame from the bank job had fell onto
Turner, as he'd been made out to be much more than a mere getaway driver. Some
of his other crimes - the stuff that Riggers had led him into after that - had
added up on to his sentence as well. Stuff that miraculously didn't seem to
stick to Riggers at all. And Riggers still had dirt on him for other crimes,
and he wasn't going to let Riggers use any of that against him if he could help
it.
    Older and wiser, Turner kept his
mouth shut, and had let Riggers in. He wanted to hear what he had to say, and
he kept his itching fists close and hidden behind his back. Punching the rat's
teeth out would have been satisfying, but he'd also be depriving his nephews of
a dad. And he couldn't do that. Turner's own dad had never been around. At least
Riggers took the twins to the park once or twice.
    Probably to look at pretty girls
in short skirts, or make drugs deals, but whatever.
    Riggers had been sniffing around
to see if Turner was still up for a "bit of this, a bit of that" as
he called it, trying to sound like he was some international man of fucking
mystery.
    "Robbing?" Turner had
said, sneering at the cocky young man.
    Riggers had a dangerous edge to
him, always had, and his breezy smile had faded. "Yeah. But you don't have
a problem with that, do you?"
    Turner folded his arms.
"That's in the past for me."
    "What did they pin on you in
the end? Not the Post Office at Little Jobling, and what about those lock-ups
on the eastern Industrial Estate? No-one