Family

Owen Mullen

Description

Family – might be the death of you…

The Glass family business is crime, and they’re good at what they do. Vengeance took Luke Glass behind bars – but now he's free and he's never going back. Luke wants out of the gangster life – all he has to do is convince his family to let him go.

His brother holds the reins of the South London underworld in his brutal hands - nobody tells Danny Glass no and expects to live - not even DCI Oliver Stanford, bent copper and one of the Met's rising stars. The way Danny sees it, his younger brother and sister Nina owe him everything. The price he demands is loyalty, and a war with their arch enemy gives him the leverage he needs to tie Luke to the family once more.

Luke can't see a way out, until Danny commits a crime so terrible it can't be forgiven. Love turns to hate when secrets are unearthed which pit brother against brother. Left with no choice but to choose a side, Nina holds the fate of the family in her hands.

In the Glass family, Owen Mullen has created a crime dynasty to rival the Richardsons and the Krays. Heart-pounding, jaw-dropping with non-stop action, Family is perfect for fans of Martina Cole, Kimberley Chambers and Mandasue Heller.

What readers say about Owen Mullen:

'Owen Mullen knows how to ramp up the action just when it’s needed… he never fails to give you hard-hitting thrillers that have moments that will stay with you forever...'

'One of the very best thriller writers I have ever read.'

'Owen Mullen writes a good story, he really brings his characters to life and the endings are hard to guess and never what you expected.'

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Thriller
• Vie de famille
• Relations familiales
• Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux
• White Collar Crime
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Conflict Resolution
• Siblings
• Alternative Family
• Thrillers
• Suspenso
• Street crime
• Domestic
• Sibling
• Corporate crime
• General officer
• Psychology
• Organized crime
• Espionage
• City Life
• General
• Crime
• Family Life
• Suspense
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 21 janvier 2021
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781800484122
• Langue: English

Extrait

Family
Glass Family Book One


Owen Mullen
Contents



Prologue


Part I


Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15


Part II


Chapter 16

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


Part III


Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53


Part IV


Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Epilogue


Postscript

Acknowledgments

More from Owen Mullen

Also by Owen Mullen

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
For Hugh McKenna
a wonderful musician and my oldest friend
Prologue


The Metropolitan Police corruption scandal has deepened after The Independent uncovered the existence of a previously secret investigation into criminal officers that went much further than the files destroyed by Scotland Yard.
Operation Zloty, a wide-ranging inquiry spanning at least nine years, found dozens of rogue detectives in the employ of organised crime and operating with ‘virtual immunity’.
The long-term intelligence development operation included information on police corruption originally gathered by 17 other investigations – including Operation Othona, the contents of which were inexplicably shredded sometime around 2003.
Crucially, Zloty included bombshell evidence from Othona about a ‘persistent network’ of corrupt officers that could have been beneficial to a landmark review commissioned by the Home Secretary into how the Stephen Lawrence murder was handled by the Metropolitan Police.

Mark Ellison QC was forced to inform Theresa May earlier this month that he could not finalise conclusions on whether police corruption tainted the Lawrence case because a ‘lorry-load’ of Othona material was mysteriously shredded by the Met more than 10 years ago.
The Independent, 26 March 2014



The car was back in the drive, parked behind the Merc. Twenty minutes earlier, Cheryl Glass had waved it away with her daughter seated in the rear. A big guy, thickset, in shades and shirt sleeves, sat behind the wheel. Marcus was a monosyllabic troll her husband had put in charge of the school run. She’d objected to a stranger being given responsibility for her daughter.
Their daughter, Danny had reminded her.
They’d had a right royal row about it but of course he hadn’t listened. ‘With the way things are,’ he’d said, ‘Rebecca needs to be protected.’
Hard to argue against, except if they were in danger it was him who’d put them there. Albert Anderson was a man better left alone. Instead, Danny had been edging him out of South London, street by street, until it became an affront that couldn’t be allowed to go on. Wiser to agree the boundaries and live in peace, but Danny Glass didn’t see it that way; as with everything, it was all or nothing.
So, the war began. And Marcus did the school run.
Cheryl leaned in the window, no pretence at friendliness. ‘What’re you doing here? Where’s Rebecca?’
The minder returned the hostility; he’d seen how her husband treated her, clocked the disrespect and aped it. ‘Inside. Forgot Sam.’
Once upon a time Danny would have wiped the floor with anybody who even looked the wrong way at her.
Ancient history.
‘She’s going to be late.’
He shrugged. ‘She wanted the bear, what was I supposed to do? I’m just the taxi driver.’
‘How about get her there before the bell stops ringing?’
Rebecca came running out of the house, bright with excitement, and threw herself against her mother.
Cheryl scolded her. ‘You’re supposed to be on your way to school.’
The six-year-old replied with logic that defied anyone to be annoyed with her.
‘Sam wouldn’t have anybody to talk to. He would’ve been sad.’
Cheryl smiled. Rebecca was absolutely the best thing – the only good thing – to come from the marriage; a small miracle she still struggled to believe she was responsible for bringing into the world.
‘Well, we can’t have that. But you must hurry.’
Rebecca clung to her. ‘You take me.’
‘I can’t, darling. Mummy’s late.’
The child was too young to hide her disappointment. Her mother tried to sound upbeat. ‘For the hairdresser.’
The lie came so easily it shocked her.
‘You want a beautiful mummy, don’t you?’ She knelt to coax her daughter. ‘I’ll see you later. You can tell me what you did today. Go with Marcus.’
‘Want to go with you.’
Marcus listened to the mini-drama – family business, not his. He was paid to do what he was told. If the kid went with him, fine, if not, that was fine too. Babysitting wasn’t what he’d had in mind when he signed on to work for Danny Glass. Rebecca stared with her father’s dark eyes, so cute, and so like him. No wasn’t a concept either recognised.
‘You take me.’ She pleaded as if her mother hadn’t spoken.
‘Honey, I don’t have time and I don’t have my car.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because it’s in the garage.’
‘We can go in another car.’
Cheryl glanced at her watch and sighed. ‘All right. Come on.’
She snapped at Marcus. ‘You’re not needed.’
He started to object but she cut him off and walked to the house and a man standing at the door with his hands folded behind his back. Cheryl didn’t know his name. So many people worked for Danny these days it was impossible to keep up.
‘You’re driving and we have to go now, school’s started.’
Rebecca ran to the Mercedes, scrambled across the back seat and sat Sam in the middle.
Marcus made a last attempt to reason with her. ‘Your husband isn’t gonna like this. It isn’t safe. You know the score.’
She brushed past him – he’d had his chance. ‘I couldn’t care less what my husband won’t like. Move!’
The new guy got behind the wheel, took Cheryl’s instructions and pulled out of the shadow of the house into the London sunshine.
Rebecca said, ‘Where’s Daddy?’
Her mother was tempted to reply that she had no idea where Daddy was because he hadn’t come home again last night. Instead she lied. ‘He’s busy, baby. He said to give you a kiss from him.’
Albert Anderson was causing trouble, that much Cheryl knew, yet the previous day she’d called her husband’s mobile and whined like a stereotypical suburban housewife unable to function without her man.
‘It won’t start, it just won’t.’
Danny’s response had been curt. ‘Use the Merc.’
That was the last time they’d spoken.
The child pointed her finger at the driver, then at her mother, herself and the teddy. She counted. ‘One, two, three, four.’
Cheryl checked her watch, her manicured fingers strumming the leather upholstery. She hated being late for anything, especially where she was going. Rebecca held the teddy bear to the window and began a game without rules. She turned to her mother. ‘I like when you take me to school.’
‘I’m going to take you every day from now on.’
‘I love you, Mummy.’
The child drifted into a story, telling Sam about her friend, Amanda. Cheryl stroked her daughter’s hair, blonde like her own. ‘I love you too, darling.’



There was no warning. The car left the road, lifted by the force of the blast. Pieces of metal and glass ripped through a bus queue waiting for the 185 to Victoria. In that moment lives were irrevocably changed: people fell to the ground, blood pouring from wounds they hadn’t had a second ago; the windscreen of a Vectra coming in the opposite direction shattered, blinding the driver, who lost control and ploughed into a West Indian fruit and veg shop, crushing a teenage assistant at the beginning of only her second day in the job; on the pavement, a man in his thirties hurrying to the beat from his iPod suddenly collapsed, his leg severed at the knee.
In the immediate aftermath of the explosion, silence hung in the smoke, then the full horror hit, people with blood on their faces screamed and ran and burst into tears. Sam lay in the gutter, undamaged apart from a patch of singed fur. The device had been hidden under the driver’s seat so the new guy didn’t exist any more.
Cheryl and Rebecca Glass died without knowing it.



His voice might have been coming from outer space – cracked and tinny and far away.
they’re dead, Luke
that bastard Anderson
It was the first contact I’d had from my brother in days. Lately, I felt less and less like I was his good right hand as he waged the war against his enemy without consulting me.
The name was almost the only detail I was able to process; everything else was noise in my head. Realising I’d never see them again was unbearable. I smashed the mobile off the floor and overturned a coffee table, roaring against what Anderson had done. When something closer to sanity returned, I grabbed my jacket and ran to my car, determined to put him in the ground where he belonged.
Albert Anderson was a creature of habit. Every morning he had breakfast at the Marlborough Cafe, a greasy spoon in Bishopsgate that reminded him of the London he’d known as a boy. In his time, he’d done all right. Better than all right. He didn’t need the rough and tumble any more, he’d made his money. Which begged the question: why fight Danny when he could’ve retired, quietly, no fuss no bother? Maybe Albert had been king of the castle for so long he couldn’t give it up.
Driving across the city, I set aside every thought except the thought of killing him.
He was sitting with two of his heavies under a blue and white awning, out of the