Read THE FIX: SAS hero turns Manchester hitman (A Rick Fuller Thriller Book 1) for Free Online

for me.
    When I was a young soldier I had dreamed of just this car.
    It was black, the only colour to have, with two fat white stripes running from bonnet to boot. The black interior had a matching white pipe. She was immaculate, someone had loved this car all its life. Massive white walls surrounded gleaming, non-standard chrome spokes which had replaced the old rostyles. If the car was beautiful the driver was stunning. This girl made Julia Roberts look average.
    She killed the motor and leaned into the big heavy door. The old car creaked slightly as she alighted. The steady plink-plink of the cooling engine announced it had been driven hard.
    Her legs appeared first. Bare legs, her feet encased in dark blue leather Gucci sandals. A pure white pleated tennis skirt, trimmed in the same blue as the sandals, briefly revealed a little more thigh than she’d planned and there was the merest hint of white cotton. She wore a figure-hugging white Rock and Republic T-shirt which showed her ample assets, and the change in temperature from car to garden was obvious to see.
    Her hair was cropped short. Small spikes of auburn brushed her pale cheeks. Her eyes were the most brilliant blue.
    I suddenly realised I was staring. She glanced at me. I sensed no emotion whatsoever, maybe mild displeasure at there being a visitor. Joel hardly noticed her. He was embroiled with the purple mess in the garage. He shouted, without turning to face her. 
    “Susan! Get us two beers.”
    Her look of mild displeasure turned to defiant anger. Her accent was European, German? Swiss? It didn’t matter. She was understood perfectly.
    “Get them yourself, Joel; I have important things to do.”
    Susan strode purposefully down the gravel path toward the house, turned briefly for what I considered maximum effect, and disappeared behind a green lion.
    Joel was riled. His pride hurt. To a man like him, life was cheap, well fifteen grand actually. He curled his lip and pointed at me, an action I had no liking for.
    “She knows exactly which side her bread is buttered.” He thumbed over his shoulder in her general direction. “Just a little Dutch temperament, that’s all, my friend. We’ll get our beer.”
    Dutch, eh? Well I was close. So, this was the elusive wife of Joel Davies. You see it was unusual for me to actually meet my clients. Normally a middleman did the business. I had done several ‘contracts’ for Joel over the years. We now had an understanding. Both of us liked living so we adhered to the rules. This was only my second invitation to the home. I knew Joel had married some two years earlier. I also knew that his wife had got heavily involved in his international dealings. Exactly how involved I didn’t know, but I would make it my business to find out. 
    I heard the sound of Gucci on gravel and saw Susan walking toward us, two bottles of Heineken in hand. Her breasts jiggled under her T-shirt as she approached. Joel was right. She’d obviously had second thoughts. Davies beamed. His authority was restored.
    I took the beer. “Thanks.”
    No reply. She just stood with the second beer outstretched to Joel.
    He took it. “You haven’t met Susan, have you?”
    “No.”
    “Well you have now.” He placed a hairy arm around her shoulders. He had to stretch to do so, he was a good three inches shorter than her. Susan tensed visibly. “Pretty, but petulant isn’t she?”
    We made eye contact for the first time. I gestured toward the Mustang. “How long have you had the car?”
    Her face softened slightly as she addressed me. She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “It was a gift for my birthday, so, just three months.”
    Joel squeezed her shoulder. This time Susan reciprocated with an arm around Joel’s waist but I got the impression it was just for show and she was really as tactile as I was.
    “Classic car, eh? Cost me a packet,” bragged Davies.
    His mobile bleeped in his breast pocket. He was still smiling as he answered