The Hunted Read online

  About the Author

  KERRY BARNES, born in 1964, grew up on a council estate in South-East London. Pushed by her parents to become a doctor, she entered the world of science and became a microbiologist. After studying law and pharmaceuticals, her career turned to medicine. Having dyslexia didn’t deter her from her passion for writing. She began writing when her daughter was born thirty years ago. Once her children had grown up she moved to the Kent coast and now writes full time.

  Also by Kerry Barnes

  Deceit

  The Hunted

  KERRY BARNES

  HQ

  An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd.

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  First published in Great Britain by HQ in 2018

  Copyright © Kerry Barnes 2018

  Kerry Barnes asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  E-book Edition © November 2018 ISBN: 9780008314774

  Version: 2018-10-22

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  About the Author

  Also by Kerry Barnes

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Part One

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Part Two

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Part Three

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Part Four

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Acknowledgements

  Keep Reading …

  About the Publisher

  Bear, my shadow, my best buddy. Gone but forever in my heart.

  Prologue

  South London, 1968

  A lamp cast its soft glow onto a round table positioned in the middle of the room. The closed, heavy red drapes gave the room a daunting – almost eerie – feel, as if the assembled group was about to engage in a séance.

  Dread twisted around Ronnie’s stomach. For a moment, he didn’t want to speak, so afraid his words would come out as just a mere squeak, and that he would look less than a worthy man. The eyes that glared back at him were narrow and beady, silently interrogating him, or perhaps posed to intimidate. Either way, he was now in the lion’s den, entirely at their mercy.

  Was his fiancée really worth it? Her beautiful face and long shapely legs popped into his head – yes, she definitely was. So, he had either to prove his worth or be fucked off by her brother and his close allies. Until now, he hadn’t quite grasped the power of these collective Jewish men. Sensing the intense atmosphere that pervaded the room, he knew they were more than just unassuming businessmen.

  He presumed this first meeting would be a case of proving himself. After all, he was going to marry their queen, their worshipped sister. Now, he surmised that this meeting wasn’t all about giving him the rundown on how to treat his wife-to-be. It was more than that – something much more profound, almost cultlike.

  The way in which they sat side by side with their hands clasped on the table symbolizing an unspoken bond between them, did it mean more than honour among family? After all, the two men who were scrutinizing him weren’t brothers by blood, they were brothers in a different sense. He suspected that they were united by a pledge.

  Ronnie could feel that they were going to initiate him into something – whatever it was he would soon find out.

  The silence, which was perhaps a mere few seconds, seemed to linger. They were sussing him out, trying to read his thoughts.

  He almost jumped when the taller of the two men, his future brother-in-law, spoke. ‘I understand you are a man who wants to earn money …’ He paused and glared, waiting for affirmation by a nod or a yes.

  Ronnie twisted his head slightly, questioning their statement.

  ‘We have a common enemy,’ the speaker continued.

  Ronnie raised his brow and waited, hoping he would get to the point.

  ‘Arthur Regan!’ He hissed the name through gritted teeth.

  Ronnie’s eyes widened. Yes, it was true: he and his brother Frank hated the Regan crew; in fact, they loathed them with a passion.

  Arthur Regan was only nineteen and had already taken charge of all the knocked-off gear that entered Bermondsey. His little empire was strong-handed and growing fast. They may be just out of nappies, but they were taking over the manor and earning good money.

  The business that had once been run by the Harman family had now been taken from under his nose just because the Regans had more muscle, and, worse, more front. The dealers, the robbers, and the pretty women were all being drawn in by Arthur’s success.

  So what was he left with? Fuck all, that’s what.

  He nodded and remained silent.

  ‘You are aware, I trust, that when you marry my sister, you and your brother become an integral part of our family? With that comes accountability!’

  Ronnie frowned. ‘Of course, but what’s that got to do with Arthur Regan?’ With the menacing expression staring back at him, he wondered if he should have been a little less direct.

  Ronnie watched in fascination as both men looked at each other and silently rolled up their sleeves to show a mark on their right wrist.

  Still oblivious, Ronnie shrugged. Again, he wondered if his body language was really doing him any favours. ‘Sorry. Am I missing something?’

  ‘You have a reason to take out the Regans’ firm. Although it may be very different from ours, it amounts to the same thing. We want Arthur Regan and his men hunted down for the scum they are. His home, his business, his family, and his fucking name will be ripped away, piece by fucking piece. That bastard and his followers shouldn’t be walking the streets, making money, or even breathing the same air as us. So, if you want to marry my sister and enter our family, you must agree to be on our side, no matter what it takes to ensure their pathetic lives and those of their children are tortured and tormented until they are living like worms under a rock!’

  A million thoughts tumbled over themselves as Ronnie tried to digest what the Jew was saying. Then, once again, his words were direct. ‘What have they done to you?’

  ‘Those cunts killed my brother, my beloved sister’s twin.’ The tall Jewish man looked to his left at the man seated beside him. ‘And they killed his brother too.’

  Ronnie glanced at the shorter man. A sudden shiver ran through his body, and for a second, he thought he was st
aring at the Devil himself. Portrayed in those dark, expressionless eyes and lopsided grin was a cruel streak.

  Leaning back in his chair, Ronnie grinned. This was it. He didn’t have to consider pledging himself to this pact, cult, or whatever the fuck it was. He was in. The Jews had money and a tight, nasty firm, and he had the prize bride. He had a gripe with the Regans, and so what better way to take over the manor than to do so with the help of a bunch of wealthy psycho Jews? Even better, he would take back what he believed was rightfully his.

  He gazed down once more at the strange marks on their wrists and was startled by a rustling sound from across the room. He could just make out a brooding figure in the shadows. Something in his hand gleamed from the soft light of the lamp. In a sudden rush of panic, Ronnie’s forehead formed beads of sweat and his mouth became as dry as a horse’s salt lick. As the daunting man approached the table, the side lamp shone a light on the tool he had in his hand. Ronnie’s heart rate levelled as soon as he realized it was only a tattoo gun.

  PART ONE

  Chapter 1

  Kent, 2002

  The summer evening was drawing to a close. Mike could just soak up the last of the pink shimmer in the sky before he would have to face the cold, hard-faced bitch he called his wife. As he stepped out of his Porsche and felt his feet crunch under the newly laid gravel drive, he sucked in the warm air and braced himself.

  Sacha, the housekeeper, opened the door before he had a chance to put the key in the lock. Her sweet round face was loaded with anxiety. It made Mike bite down on his lip and flare his nostrils. ‘Go on, love, tell me. What the fuck has she been up to now?’

  Sacha lowered her gaze and shook her head. ‘Sorry, Mr Regan, but I just can’t do it anymore. I am handing in my notice … I can’t, I just can’t.’ Her voice cracked, as she tried to hold back the tears. Mike held out his big meaty arms for his housekeeper to fall into. He’d known she wouldn’t stay in the job for much longer. Sacha was too sweet and inoffensive. Dealing with Jackie was just too much for her.

  He held her tight and stroked her long black hair. ‘Come on, love. Don’t get yaself upset. It’s okay. I understand.’

  She gently pulled away. ‘I’m so worried about little Ricky, he is so … well, affected. Yes, maybe that’s the word. I will come back tomorrow, Mr Regan, to take him to school, but after that, I have to leave. She’s too …’ Sacha looked into Mike’s compassionate grey eyes and gave a smile loaded with sorrow. ‘She’s just hard work.’

  Mike heard the cab driving up towards the house. He nodded and winked for her to go. He would deal with the aftermath.

  As Sacha bustled herself into the taxi, she looked back to see Mike disappear inside the house of misery. Gutted she had to leave, she knew, nevertheless, that Jackie was becoming utterly out of control. The last straw was when she took a slap from her, for ushering little Ricky away before Jackie could say another cruel thing to him. Sacha would have loved to have swapped places with Jackie. Mike was perfect in her eyes, a Gerard Butler lookalike, rich and generous too. However, he was also faithful to his wife.

  Mike stepped inside, gently closing the door, hoping that Jackie was crashed out somewhere. The house was quiet, so he crept up the curved staircase and walked along the corridor and into Ricky’s room. He gulped back the lump that had lodged in his throat. There, asleep, still hugging a pillow, was his little six-year-old son. The curtains were drawn, and his night light was just bright enough to show that his face was still moist from crying. There, among the child’s dreams, he witnessed another sob. Mike’s heart ached for his son – his sweet little chubby boy, with the biggest eyes, button nose, and wayward floppy fringe. He wanted to pull him into his arms and hug him tight, but he didn’t want to wake him. Quietly, he closed the door and walked back down the stairs and into the lounge. His shoulders relaxed when he realized he was alone. Loosening his tie, he went to the bar and poured a brandy, slowly allowing the bitter bite to warm the back of his throat. He held the bottle in his hand and rolled his eyes. Thank God she didn’t like brandy, or his vintage collection would be consumed by now. Jackie was content with a litre of vodka each day and didn’t care if it was called Grey Goose or Mother Goose, as long as it got her pissed.

  Mike took his weighty crystal tumbler, with a double shot of brandy, out through the French doors and onto the patio, where the garden lights automatically came on and flooded the pool area.

  With Sacha handing in her notice, and the concerning call he’d received earlier regarding his arms import, he really needed to think about what to do, now that both work and home were a mess. He shuddered and gulped back the drink. If it was true, and his deal had been intercepted by the government agents, he was looking at going down for a long time. Christ, what would happen to Ricky? He had to keep his head straight. First thing tomorrow, he would call a meeting at which only his trusted men would be present. He stared as far as his eyes could see and surveyed the walled perimeter. For a second, he thought he saw something glimmer, and his heart stopped beating. I am getting fucking paranoid now. He had to get some sleep; the last few days had been intense, and he needed a clear head for the morning.

  As he went back into the house and upstairs, the inebriated snoring from their bedroom made him pass by silently, hoping his wife wouldn’t wake up. The last room on the left, the blue room, was cool and inviting. He removed his clothes and slid between the sheets, allowing the fresh cotton to engulf him. Just as he was about to drift off, a loud bang woke him and rattled his nerves. There she was in the doorway.

  ‘Where have you been, ya fucking wanker!’ spat Jackie, full of piss and vinegar.

  Mike sat up and rolled his eyes; she was off on one again. For a second, he stared and wondered why the fuck he was still with her. Half-dressed in a designer blouse and just her knickers, she looked like a streetwalker. Her hair was a mess with knotted extensions and her oversized, collagen-filled lips were twisted in an ugly fashion to match her tight, beady eyes. Botox, boob jobs, and a fake tan had done her no favours. She was only twenty-six and could have passed for eighteen a couple of years ago. Why she’d had to have all that shit done was beyond him. He didn’t recognize her anymore, but that wasn’t the issue. It was her wild personality that had truly changed beyond recognition.

  ‘Well, where ’ave ya been?’ she demanded, standing there swaying with her hands on her hips. Even the sleep hadn’t sobered her up.

  ‘Fuck off, Jackie, and leave me alone, will ya!’

  ‘You don’t know what it’s like for me to be stuck in this place all fucking day with that brat whining!’

  Mike felt his blood rushing through his veins. If she’d been a man, he would have leaped from the bed and smashed her head straight through the window. He clenched his fists and flared his nostrils.

  ‘Leave it, Jackie, and go back to bed,’ he said calmly.

  Jackie wanted a row; she needed to vent her anger, but he wasn’t having any of it.

  ‘Oh, that’s it, Mike. You just bury ya fucking head in the sand … Look at ya. Think ya better than me, acting like I don’t even fucking exist.’ With her face screwed up, she egged him on, eager for a fight. Anything to get his attention – any attention.

  ‘I’m warning you, Jackie. Go back to bed, or I’ll forget you’re a fucking woman.’

  His deep raspy voice would have turned her on a few years ago but not anymore. She hated him – she hated everyone. Now she saw a change in his expression; it was a coldness that crept across his face. She hadn’t seen him like that before and thought perhaps she’d pushed him too far, but the drink fuelled her on and she lashed back again. ‘Oh yeah, fucking hardman. Well, you lay a fucking finger on me and you just watch. You’ll be seeing that kid of yours from behind bars, and only if I fucking say so. I have so much on you, Mike, that you’ll go down for a long time.’

  That was the last straw. The thought that she could grass, and even worse have control over their son, incensed him, taking him to a p
itch that would see the red mist come down. In one fluid movement, he leaped from the bed and lunged towards her, grabbing her by the hair and throwing her to the floor.

  Her cheek caught the corner of the bedside cabinet, causing her to let out a dramatic scream.

  Sucking in a deep lungful of air, he slowly calmed down and glared at his wife, who was squirming around on the floor.

  ‘You bastard!’ she yelled with a wilful jeer.

  He sighed with relief that he hadn’t killed her. But when he clocked her malevolent expression, he wished he had. No woman had ever pushed him as far. Wife or not, no one would make threats concerning his son. Yet hitting her went against everything he stood for. Things would have to change.

  He had only been with Jackie for seven years, having met her at his twenty-seventh birthday bash. She was stunning back then, a natural beauty. Her confidence was what had attracted him to her. The party was a big affair with friends and wannabe mates all trying to buddy up to him. He had money and a reputation, but he wasn’t stupid; he kept only a handful of close friends who were his business colleagues.

  Then Jackie arrived with his brother’s girlfriend. Tall and slim, with blonde waves tumbling down her back and shrouded in assurance, she swanned over to him and gave him a birthday kiss. He remembered the sweet smell of some expensive perfume, and how he’d decided to engage in conversation. Little did he know that all the bull she plied him with that night was just to get that fucking great diamond on her finger. She was a wild spirit and had no intention of sticking to one man. Her subtle make-up and sweet expression were deliberately aimed at getting what she wanted. She wasn’t sweet at all, but by the time he realized what she was all about, he was up the aisle saying ‘I do’ and little Ricky was on his way.