Dangerous Lady Read Online Free Page A

Road standards, the Ryans had gone too far up in the world, making them aliens. If it wasn’t for the fact that Michael Ryan was now a force to be reckoned with, the other families would have tried to force them out.
    All this flickered through her mind in a split second and she felt ashamed. She had gone to school with Sarah, and they had helped one another over the years. Now Sarah was remembering her friend and Pat felt she didn’t deserve it. ‘It’s absolutely gorgeous, Sar.’
    Satisfied that her friend was happy, Sarah sat opposite her and took a quarter bottle of Black and White whisky from the mantelpiece. She poured two generous measures into their cups of tea.
    ‘This’ll keep the cold out, Pat. God himself knows we need it in this weather.’ Picking up her mug, Pat toasted her friend. ‘Merry
    Christmas to you, Sarah … and many more.’ ’”
    Settling themselves into their chairs, warmed by the whisky, the two women began the serious business of the day: gossiping. Michael Ryan walked down the Bayswater Road. He walked, as always, as if he owned it - head held high, even in the driving snow. At eighteen, Michael was magnificent. Over six foot two, he was built like an athlete, his dark brown overcoat emphasising the spread of his shoulders. He still had thick black unruly hair, which he now wore cut in a DA. His eyes, deepset and a striking blue, seemed to drink in everything around him. The only softness about his rugged face was in his lips. They were full and sensuous like a woman’s, though at times they gave him a hint of cruelty. Women and men were drawn to Michael Ryan, and he knew it. He used it to his advantage as he used everything.
    Now he watched the women lounging against the railings of Hyde Park. Even in the snow on Christmas Eve the streetwalkers were out.
    A few of the younger girls, new to their beat, looked at him with interest. One opened her coat to reveal a scantily clad body. Michael looked her up and down, his lips curling with contempt. He wouldn’t touch a tom with a barge pole. An older woman, - seeing the exchange, laughed out loud.
    ‘Cover yourself up, girl. Before you get frostbite of the fanny!’
    The other women laughed, glad of some light relief. Michael carried on walking. He didn’t really mind the prostitutes. In fact, he admired them. To his mind theirs was a business, like any other. Supply and demand. What he didn’t like was the way some of them looked at him as
     
    a potential John. He liked to think that people put him above that kind of thing. He crossed the road, dodging the traffic skilfully. The snow was easing up and last minute shoppers were everywhere. The Portobello Road had been packed.
    He walked into the warmth of the Bramley Arms. Pushing his way among the men he went to the bar, nodding a greeting here and there. Over the last year he had worked hard to create an image for himself and it was paying off. People were deferential towards him. He snapped his fingers at the barmaid and ordered a brandy. He didn’t particularly like brandy, but it was part of his image. It set him above other people. The men at the bar moved to give him room.
    He sipped his drink. Ranging around the crowded bar, his eyes settled on a group by the window. He picked up his drink and made his way over to them. One of the men glanced at him, giving a double take as he realised who it was.
    Tommy Blue felt a knot of fear somewhere in his bowels. The four other men at the table with him sensed his panic and stopped talking to look at the newcomer. Seeing Michael Ryan smiling at them, they seemed to crowd together, hunching in their seats. Enjoying the terror he was creating, Michael drank his brandy in one gulp. Then, wiping his hand across his mouth, he placed his glass gently on the table.
    ‘I’ve been looking for you, Tommy.’ , His voice was quiet. Tommy Blue felt his heart sinking. He tried to smile, his lips trembling.
    ‘I think me and you had better have a