Hunter Hunted by Jack Gatland (best romantic books to read .TXT) 📕

said do it now!’ the shaven headed man screamed as Declan grabbed at him. Anjli was already running towards them—

And then the world exploded.

It wasn’t, but it felt like it; The Horse and Guard pub’s ground floor erupted in a brief flash of light and sound, as a detonation occurred; the windows exploded outwards into the Fulham Road as flame and smoke burst through, an ear-splitting foom and blast of hot wind slamming through the air a split second later. Anjli, closer to the exploding pub than Declan was found herself thrown to the pavement, blown off her feet by the force of it. Declan meanwhile slammed against the Ford Focus, stumbling to his knees as the shaven headed driver now wrenched the car into first gear and, spinning the steering wheel, sped off down the street away from the explosion. His ears ringing, Declan caught the licence number of the vehicle before he fell back to the road, jotting it on his hand with the pen before turning to face The Horse and Guard pub.

There wasn’t much of the original external decor left; the windows were now shattered and the pub sign engulfed in flames. Staggering to his feet, he ran towards it. He didn’t know if the pub had been open, or whether anyone had been inside when it exploded, but he knew he had to try something, anything to help.

It was Anjli though who pulled him back.

‘Don’t be a fool!’ she cried out. ‘They’re dead. Anyone in there? No hope.’

Declan pushed Anjli aside and ran to the door on the corner, pausing as a piece of burned paper lying on the ash covered floor beside it caught his eye.

CLOSED FOR DELIVERY

Declan allowed Anjli to pull him back, staggering back to the Audi, now covered in debris and broken glass, already pulling out his phone.

‘Call it in, we need ambulances on the scene,’ he commanded as he turned back to the phone. ‘Dave? Declan Walsh. Yeah, hello mate, long time. Look, my computer whiz is busy and I need a favour. Could you run a plate for me? Cheers.’

As Declan gave the licence plate currently on the back of his hand to the voice on the end of the line, he looked across to Anjli.

‘He did this,’ he said. ‘The man shouted to do it now, right before the bomb went off.’

He turned back to the phone call.

‘It is? Brilliant. Thanks.’

He disconnected the call, moving back to the now burning pub, peering down into the beer cellar.

‘Anyone in there?’ he shouted. There was no answer, but there was no smoke, either. Anyone down there would be injured at best. And the fire brigade could sort that.

Now in a hurry, he ran back across the debris-strewn road, cars at either end stopping as drivers climbed out of their cars to stare at the burning pub, and pulled open the driver’s door of the Audi.

‘What are you doing?’ Anjli exclaimed. ‘You can’t leave the scene of crime!’

‘That car is licensed to Rattlestone Securities,’ Declan replied. ‘And the guy had two notes I could see written. One of them was that Monroe was awake, and they needed a clean up ASAP.’ He winced as he looked back at the flames. ‘Call Doctor Marcos, get her to find a way of getting the Guv out of there before they come for him.’

‘But he’s still critical!’

‘Better critical than dead!’ Declan snapped. ‘I need to get to New Change shopping centre by St Pauls. The other note said that Nasir Gill is there in—‘ he looked to his phone, ‘in about half an hour. All the order said was ‘take out’.’

‘As in kill?’

‘They’re a secret police made up of coppers and spies,’ Declan climbed into the car. ‘I don’t think they’re considering taking him to Wagamamas.’

‘What about the pub?’

‘It was closed for deliveries,’ Declan replied through the open window, starting the engine. ‘With luck, this means that nobody was upstairs. At least it wasn’t open, and it’s not connected to the buildings beside.’

Anjli went to reply, to state that even closed there could have been several staff inside, but the Audi was already driving off, blue lights flashing as it drove eastwards to St Pauls.

Sighing, Anjli looked back to the pub as, in the distance, she could hear the sirens of fire engines. ‘Well, I reckon the CCTV records are probably gone,’ she muttered to herself before turning to the road, walking into the middle of it and waiting for the emergency services to arrive. Pulling out her phone, she dialled a number.

‘Rosanna, it’s me,’ she said when it eventually moved to voicemail. ‘When you get this? Call me. Or get Monroe out of there now, whichever’s easiest.’

Disconnected, she considered calling this in, but she still didn’t trust Sutcliffe or Frost to cause some kind of issue there. She guessed that this was why Declan called in a favour to gain the car registration details rather than call Billy.

Dialling another number, Anjli waved the fire engines to the burning pub, waving aside some shopkeepers and visitors who’d stopped to watch, and who were now blocking the way of the lorries, showing her warrant card to a police car as it pulled up beside her in a screech of tyres.

‘Pull the crowds back,’ she shouted, turning back to the phone as it was answered. ‘Jo? Anjli. Get to Marcos right now.’

She looked to the firefighters, already preparing the hoses.

‘Someone’s coming to kill Monroe.’

14

Race The Clock

DC Jo Davey wasn’t a fan of running. She’d spent most of her life avoiding the act, and so the fact that she was now sprinting down the Victoria Embankment wasn’t lost on her as she waved down the first black cab she could find, clambering wearily in and sending them to The Royal London Hospital. Doctor Marcos still hadn’t checked her emails or voicemails, and the calls were still going through to the annoying bloody voice that stated that ‘blah blah blah number’ wasn’t available right