Life of Crime: The gripping, epic new thriller from the No 1 bestseller. Kimberley Chambers

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СКАЧАТЬ no. I can’t let you pay for that. Here, I’ll give you the money,’ Melissa replied, fishing frantically through her handbag for her purse. She hoped she had enough cash on her to cover the cost.

      ‘No, you won’t. Listen, Trev on the toy stall owes me plenty of favours, trust me,’ Jason insisted.

      ‘Erm, can I try on these black boots in a size four, please?’ Tracey asked, pointing to a high-heeled suede ankle boot. She couldn’t understand Jason’s obsession with Donte. It was odd, to say the least. ‘Don’t move, Mel. I need to hold on to you,’ Tracey ordered, lifting up her left leg to undo the strap on her sandal.

      Aware of Jason’s blue eyes staring at her, Melissa blushed again.

      ‘I’ve got a little ’un myself. A four-year-old daughter,’ Jason blurted out.

      To say Tracey was shocked by this piece of news was an understatement. She promptly lost her balance, toppling over sideways.

      ‘You all right, mate?’ Melissa asked, voice full of concern. Part of her wanted to laugh, but she knew how mortified Tracey must be, so held her emotions in check.

      Feeling a complete idiot, Tracey quickly put her sandal back on and grabbed Mel’s arm. ‘Come on. Let’s go.’

      ‘Don’t you wanna try the boots on now?’ Jason smirked. Trev on the toy stall was pissing himself laughing and he was desperately trying not to do the same himself.

      ‘No. I’ll try them another time,’ Tracey snapped, hobbling off. She’d felt her ankle twist as she’d fallen and it was already throbbing.

      ‘Thanks again for the toy,’ Melissa said, walking away.

      ‘Come on, Mel,’ Tracey urged, red-faced. The quicker she got away from this market, the better.

      ‘Mel, you forgot something,’ Jason shouted after them.

      Leaving Donte’s pushchair with Tracey, Melissa ran back to the stall. Jason handed her a piece of paper. ‘That’s my phone number. If you fancy a drink sometime, give us a bell.’

      Melissa opened her mouth, but couldn’t speak. No words would come out.

      ‘Mel, come on,’ Tracey shouted angrily.

      Melissa took one last look at Jason, then ran to catch up with her pal.

      ‘What did he want?’ Tracey demanded.

      ‘Nothing.’

      ‘Don’t lie to me. I saw him hand you something. Did he give you his number for me?’

      ‘No, Trace. Look, I’m sorry, but he gave me his number for me.’

      Tracey stared at her friend as though she had gone stark raving mad. This wasn’t going to plan at all. ‘What did he actually say when he gave it to you? You sure he never meant it for me?’

      Melissa felt flushed. ‘He said if I fancied going for a drink, I was to call him.’

      Tracey was in shock. ‘You’re not going, are you?’

      Mel shook her head. ‘Course not. You like him.’

      The short journey back to South Hornchurch was awkward, to say the least. Tracey was in no mood for small talk. She was fucking fuming.

       CHAPTER TWO

      The lifts stank of urine, were covered in graffiti and, as usual, there was a sign on the door saying they were out of order.

      ‘Bollocks,’ Jason mumbled. He lived on the tenth floor and had boxes to carry.

      The stairs too were daubed in graffiti and reeked of urine, but nevertheless Jason whistled chirpily as he lugged the boxes of knocked-off perfume up ten flights. No way could he leave any downstairs. They’d be thieved within seconds. The type of tower block he lived in, even the door knockers weren’t safe.

      Jason let himself into the flat that he shared with his mother, brothers, sister and four-year-old daughter. As expected, the kids were fending for themselves.

      ‘Daddy,’ four-year-old Shay cried out, holding out her arms for a cuddle. She was filthy, had dirt all over her hands and face, and was still wearing the pyjamas he’d put on her last night.

      ‘Where’s Mum?’ Jason asked twelve-year-old Barbara. Like himself, Babs, as he fondly called her, had no idea who her father was; the pair of them had been the result of drunken one-night stands. Babs was mixed-race. She was also extremely overweight, thanks to the shit food she ate. It was Babs who looked after their two younger brothers Elton, eight, and Kyle who’d just turned six. A drunken waste of space, his mother was, which was why Jason wanted to find a better home for his daughter. This was no environment for her to be raised in.

      ‘Mum went to get fags, but she never came back. The kids are starving. There’s only Weetabix and baked beans in the cupboard, and there’s no milk. Can you get us some food, Jason?’ Babs asked hopefully. Trapped in the flat looking after three kids, food was the only enjoyment she got in life and she was currently yearning for a Big Mac or a large portion of greasy chips smothered in salt and vinegar. Her stomach felt as if her throat had been cut.

      Jason put his daughter down and urged Barbara to make the kids look presentable.

      ‘Why I gotta wash? Where we going?’ asked young Kyle.

      ‘McDonald’s – I’m treating us. So it’s bathtime for all three of ya,’ Jason grinned, ruffling Elton’s frizzy Afro hair. He and Kyle had the same father. He was no role model though. Known to the locals as ‘Rasta Dave’, he’d flooded the estate with heroin before getting a ten-stretch. Jason had been dragged to court by his mother, who’d sobbed like a baby as Dave was sentenced. He hadn’t acknowledged them, the same way he’d refused to acknowledge that Elton and Kyle were his sons. He wouldn’t even put his name on their birth certificates, the loser.

      Hearing the kids splash happily about in the bath, Jason’s thoughts turned to the girl he’d met on the market today. He’d known her mate had fancied him when she’d come to the stall last week with her mother. And he’d known she’d be back; ditzy airheads like her always were predictable.

      Jason lit up a cigarette and took a deep drag. He wasn’t looking for a bird to shag senseless. He had plenty of those on the go, including Darlene, the thirty-eight-year-old mother of his old school pal Andy Michaels. What Jason was currently looking for was someone half sensible. A single mum with a council flat or, better still, her own gaff would be ideal.

      Hearing a commotion, Jason walked over to the window and stared at the gloomy sight outside. A full-blown punch-up was in progress – par for the course on the Mardyke Estate. Jason loved and loathed the estate in equal measure. It was all he had ever known, and some of the people who lived there were proper. However, lots were not; when you flipped the coin, it was a shithole situated off the busy A13 in Rainham.

      Jason’s mother wasn’t one for adding homely touches. The only thing hanging on the wall in their depressing, threadbare flat was a long mirror in the hallway that Debbie Rampling would preen her fat СКАЧАТЬ