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

Fitzwarren,’ he said before walking back to the building, finishing over his shoulder. ‘I can see a glorious future for you.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ Billy said, seemingly grateful. He looked back to Frost. ‘So, what now?’

‘Now we hunt a terrorist,’ muttered the man with the rimless glasses.

Monroe opened his eyes when the taxi pulled to a stop.

‘Jesus woman,’ he groaned. ‘Not here!’

‘Yes, here,’ Doctor Marcos replied, pulling the wheelchair out of the taxi and, after paying the driver she stared up at the entrance to the Globe Town Boxing Club. ‘Beggars can’t be choosers, and you need a day’s rest before you fight.’ She smiled. ‘And besides, haven’t you seen Rocky movies? They always use a gym like this when they recover from the massive beating they take in Act Two.’ Grabbing the handles, she wheeled Monroe through the doors and into the boxing club.

It was an old building, but it seemed to be going through a small renovation as they entered. The walls, the paint at one time stained with nicotine and peeling was now gone, sanded down and primed for a more colourful layer; the heavy bags and the weights were brand new, still in their wrapping as they awaited their installation, and the ring had been given new canvas and ropes. Even the smell, the musty taint of sweat and leather seemed to be missing from the gym.

One decorator looked up as they walked past. He was wearing old clothes but no overalls, and when he spoke, his voice was heavy with an Eastern European accent.

‘Not open,’ he said, waving back to the door. ‘Come back later.’

‘We’re looking for Johnny or Jackie,’ Doctor Marcos said politely. ‘I’d prefer the former though.’

Known around East London as a kind of modern-day version of the Krays, Johnny and Jackie were, to many, an enigma. They famously never appeared together in public; an agreement allegedly made when they first started so that if one was killed, the other could gain revenge for them. When people turned up to speak with them, they never knew which of the twins they’d meet with, as Johnny and Jackie changed around their schedules constantly to ensure that targeted attacks were impossible. They looked identical. They wore almost identical clothing. Their haircuts were the same.

The problem was, though that Johnny and Jackie weren’t twins; they were one person with a very particular multiple personality disorder. There was ‘Johnny’, the rational, business-like one and ‘Jackie’, the psychopath.

There was a reason Doctor Marcos wanted the Johnny persona. He was more likely to listen to sense and broker a deal. The Jackie persona was likely to bury you in the foundations of a motorway.

‘Oh, you would, would you?’ A voice spoke through the door to the back room and a man emerged, walking out behind a meaty looking man in his forties, tracksuit over a tank top and his hair gelled back. The man who spoke wore a black suit and deep blue shirt, currently open. His salt and peppered hair was blow dried back, giving him a little quiff at the front, and he bore an expression of fury.

Shit, thought Doctor Marcos. The Jackie persona.

Jackie however stopped when he saw Monroe in the wheelchair. He stared at him for a long moment, taking in the scene.

And then he laughed.

‘Oh Jesus, old man,’ he said, holding his side. ‘I didn’t realise it was my birthday.’

Monroe forced a weak smile in response, and Doctor Marcos stepped forward, bringing Jackie’s focus back to her.

‘We need your help,’ she said. ‘People want to kill him.’

‘Aye,’ Jackie grinned, but bore more resemblance to a shark baring its fangs. ‘And I’m on that list too.’

He stopped.

‘I know you,’ he blurted, delight crossing his face. ‘You’re that forensics bitch! The one who did the Tancredi tea party!’

Doctor Marcos nodded. The reason she was banned from crime scenes for another five months, in fact the reason DCI Alex Monroe was the only person in the police force who would hire her, was because of her unconventional ways when working out murders. The Tancredi murders was one such case; they tasked her with working out the timeline of how four Liverpudlian crime lords killed each other while sitting around a circular table. Nobody else had worked it out, but she’d achieved it by convincing her assistant, then-DS Joanne Davey to steal the bodies from the morgue one night and spirit them back to the crime scene, sitting them in their original seats to recreate the moment.

Four dead, naked crime lords being manipulated like dolls did not go down well with the authorities. Davey had been demoted. Doctor Marcos would probably have been fired if it wasn’t for the fact that she’d solved the case.

‘Yeah,’ she nodded. ‘I have that honour.’

‘I’m a big fan of taxidermy,’ Jackie continued. ‘When I was a kid, my uncle took me to this weird bloody place in Cornwall. They had stuffed kittens in dresses, and rabbits in suits. Little dioramas named Kitten’s Tea Party or Bunny’s First Day At School. Scared the right royal shit out of me. Probably made me the man I am now.’

He considered this.

‘I always wanted to make one of my own, you know, out of my enemies.’

‘Day’s still young,’ Doctor Marcos replied. ‘Have at it, and all that.’

‘I like you,’ Jackie said, walking over to Monroe, peering down at him. ‘I hate him, but I like you. What happened anyway?’

‘Someone slammed my head repeatedly into a glass window until it broke,’ Monroe replied, a wry smile on his face. ‘Problem you have though, is that technically you’re one of the suspects.’

‘What, because you arrested one of my men?’ Jackie was referring to Danny Martin, recently arrested in Beachampton. ‘If I wanted you hurt, I’d do it right.’

‘I know,’ Monroe tried to sit up in the chair. ‘I saw the bastard who did it.’

‘And this is why you’re here?’ Jackie looked back to Doctor Marcos. ‘Let me guess. The attacker’s connected and you can’t touch him.’

‘A bit