Love You Till I Die

Paul Asling

Description

What do you do when the woman you love is snatched by psychopaths?Billy Pierce is a well-respected heavyweight boxer from West London. After his one and only love is taken, his life is thrown into the menace and treachery of London's criminal underworld.Terrifying gangland violence threatens the life Billy and Lena had worked so hard to build.Billy has to face the pain of lost love and the mean violent streets of London. But have Billy and his family bitten off more than they can chew?Freddie and Johnny McDonald are old-school South London villains. Their business is fronting violence with charm. When a vast inheritance is left to another person, the McDonalds set out to regain what they believe is rightfully theirs.Love You Till I Die is a novel about loyalty and reliability about people that love and care for each other but who, when push comes to shove, will do whatever to protect their own.

Sujets

• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Brown Dog Books
• Date de parution: 08 février 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781785452246
• Langue: English

Extrait

LOVE YOU TILL I DIE
LOVE YOU TILL I DIE
PAUL ASLING
Copyright © Paul Asling 2017
The right of Paul Asling to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission of the copyright holder.
Published under licence by Brown Dog Books and The Self-Publishing Partnership, 7 Green Park Station, Bath BA1 1JB
www.selfpublishingpartnership.co.uk
ISBN printed book: 978-1-78545-223-9 ISBN e-book: 978-1-78545-224-6
Cover design by Kevin Rylands Internal design by Andrew Easton
Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon CR0 4YY
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 8A
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
To Tina
CHAPTER 1

Billy’s finger hovered over the button of his alarm clock poised and ready to turn it off in a heartbeat. He then pulled back the warm duvet to greet the freezing cold of a pitch-black January morning. He took a deep intake of breath and stretched his arms up and out, feeling the muscles in his biceps, chest and back. There was a faint sound of scrunching bones and joints as they moved back to where they should be.
Billy Pearce had been awake for a matter of seconds and already his first thoughts of the sub-zero day were of Lena, just as they had been each and every day he had spent apart from her. He knew his mood would ricochet between low and lower throughout the day that lay ahead of him. Desolation and sadness were crippling his thoughts. Dark clouds were already amassing in his head, and it was only 4.45 a.m.
With apprehension knotted inside him, he slipped into his royal blue track-suit and left the house in the dark shadowy back streets of Fulham, West London at 5 a.m. sharp. The ten-round fight with Spike Adams was only a week away and this thought drove him on, running through the dark streets. The sound of his running feet reverberated in the blackness. As he accelerated along the lifeless streets, he was a sight to behold. His six-foot-four frame and impressive muscular physique glide through the thoroughfares like a finely tuned Rolls Royce.
Billy was a toned, heavyweight boxer at the peak of his career. He enjoyed this part of his training schedule and knew that, if he completed his roadwork each day before the fight, his all-around stamina and fitness coupled with his boxing skills would be enough to carry him through the fight. He knew he needed to give everything until he could give no more, and then find more. That kind of endurance was without a doubt the most invaluable lesson he had learned from his late father, Lenny.
When he arrived on the south side of Hammersmith Bridge, Billy turned left and set off at a good pace along the banks of the Thames towards Putney. He kept his big, dark brown eyes looking directly ahead. Then, looking over to river on his left, he noticed a light mist hugging the ground at the river’s edge.
The moonlight was splattering down its white silver glow onto the surface of the river, making it look like a silvery snake creeping into the distance towards the Putney Bridge. To his right, tall trees stood in the winter morning darkness looking like massive giant x-rays against the moonlit, infinite sky. The icy cold air was now forcing its way into Billy’s aching lungs. It felt like the winter wind was blowing right through his skin as he pounded along the murky riverbank. Seagulls were loitering in the dark skies above him, watching his every move.
Every now and again Billy slowed the pace and did a bit of shadow-boxing, throwing lightning-fast punches at the air in front of him. Breathing hard he threw imaginary left jabs, right hooks and uppercuts to the imaginary opponent’s face.
As he approached Putney Bridge, Billy quickened his pace to a sprint. When he arrived at the bridge two minutes later he stopped and shadow-boxed his imaginary opponent again. Loud sniffing noises came from Billy’s nose as he threw a barrage of jaw-breaking uppercuts and right hooks. Eventually, panting and breathless from exertion, Billy stopped to take a well-earned rest.
He leaned his large powerful arms onto the shiny black Victorian railings that separate the road from the now gloomy, wide, tea-brown river. Breathing hard he leaned forward with his head bowed, the sweat from his short blond hair falling onto his royal blue training top or running down onto his dark eyelashes before hitting the ground like tears.
Billy gazed across the ghost-grey mist covering the river to Bishop’s Park on the opposite bank. He thought of Lena for the second time that day and, as most days, it would not be the last. His loneliness was now feasting on any happiness he had left in him and was crippling his thoughts.
With raw pain in his heart he thought to himself, why did she betray me and leave my head and heart in a shattered disarray of pieces? Bishop’s Park had been Billy’s and Lena’s favourite place to walk and relax in the summer months, especially at weekends. It had been their little bit of English countryside in the middle of West London. For them, it was not just a park, it was a flowery haven of peace and tranquillity, away from the busy streets of the city, their jobs and their worries. They would amble hand in hand in the sunshine along the shaded paths amid the soft green foliage and summer flowers.
They would park themselves on one of the pretty, green wooden benches by the pond and listen to the whirring of dragonflies and children playing on the swings in the distance. They’d sit there for hours discussing the present, the future and their dreams. Their conversations would always end with the sound of laughter. Now, as Billy gazed across at the park, he felt her loss acutely. This nightmare had gone on far too long; perhaps he had lost his Lena for good.
Billy tilted his head up towards the now graphite sky as it started to rain hard. This shook him out of his day-dreaming and into the reality of the day. The cold rain covered his skin as though it meant to wash him away, freezing and paling his skin on contact. He pulled the hood of his training top over his head, then started to run headlong into the rain and the wind. His roadwork routine took him up and over Putney Bridge, then back towards his house in Fulham via a planned route set by his trainers.
This particular morning, something kept nagging at him. On a whim, he decided to take a detour to Lena’s house in Chelsea where she lived with her parents. He thought to himself, I have stayed away for six long months. I need to see her now, right now, if only a glimpse for a few seconds. With the traffic now building in the rush hour, Billy jogged at a steady pace over Putney Bridge to the Fulham side and turned right into New King’s Road.
A couple of miles later he came to King’s Road, then crossed Stanley Bridge and turned right into Lots Road. Unusually for him, anxiety and nervousness were building in him. At the bottom of Lots Road, he passed The Balloon pub on his left, then entered into the end of the tree-lined street where Lena lived with her parents.
It was now drizzling with mist like rain. The towers of the immense red-brick Lots Road power station cast a dark, eerie shadow over the street. It was 7.30 a.m. and the streetlights were switching themselves off. Billy knew this was the time Lena left for work. With trepidation, he slid into a dark doorway opposite Lena’s house and waited. He was uncomfortable and tense in the extreme, a stalker waiting for his prey.
After a couple of minutes, Billy heard the sound of a car coming from his left. He peered out from the darkened doorway to see a black London cab. Its brakes squealed as it pulled up in front of the three-storey house where Lena lived.
Billy felt a lump come to his throat and swallowed hard. He was in luck; after a few seconds the hall light went on. Then the large solid dark green front door opened and Lena appeared, picked out by the security light in the porch. Billy’s heart drummed and trepidation coiled in his head. Sweat trickled down his back as he saw Lena for the first time in six long months.
She looked as sensational as ever, dressed in a fire-red, three-quarter-length coat, white scarf, black tights and shiny black shoes. Her dark hair was up on top of her head, some side bits trailing down on either side of her face. Billy could see her large, lustrous dark eyes at distance, even in the gloom of the January morning. She had not changed one bit; she looked radiant and beautiful.
The pain Billy had felt in any boxing ring was nothing to the pain he was in at this moment in time. He felt as if he had a hook embedded in his throat and a large weight was pulling it down into the depth of his guts. It hurt like nothing he had ever felt before. His heart was pounding so fast now he thought it was about to explode through his chest. He loved and missed Lena so much. Nothing else mattered, including his boxing career. He wanted to come out of the dark doorway, walk across, take her in his arms, and kiss her and tell her he loved her and that he wanted her back in his life for good. But it did not happen. Lena descended the steps, opened the cab door wide and climbed into the back.
Billy saw the stout