The Business Read Online Free

of bibles if the need arose. That was more important to him than anything else.
    Today he had brought a new young lad on the job with him, his father was an old friend and the son, though a big lad, was not the sharpest knife in the drawer. But he was willing and that made up for a lot. He had the brawn, and the makings of a good repo man if he was taught properly from the off.
    Lads like this made Gerald’s life easier, and it worked well for them all. Anyone he trained was guaranteed a good livelihood and was generally regarded as having learnt his trade from the best. Young Declan might not be the most scholarly boy he had ever encountered, but he was willing, with a shrewdness that was paramount in their line of work. Ergo, he got the dosh by whatever means, all he needed was the chance to smooth out a few rough edges and he would be set for life.
    When they had reached the required front door, a scruffy-looking flat with dirty nets and scuffed paintwork, Gerald Dooley nodded almost imperceptibly. Instead of knocking politely, young Declan proceeded to kick the door off its hinges. This was not a difficult task and, walking into the warm smell of central heating and cannabis smoke, they saw the occupant of the premises standing in his kitchen with the kettle in one hand and the other hand down the front of his pyjama bottoms.
    ‘Morning, just in time for tea. Only, do me a favour would you?’
    The man nodded dumbly, his face devoid of any colour now. Terror was taking over as he felt the trembling that told him he was well and truly fucked.
    ‘Wash your fucking hands first.’
    Jason Parks was walking through the spring sunshine like a man who owned the world and, in his case, he believed that to be the truth.
    He was a new kid on the block, nineteen years old, and with the world at his feet. He was already responsible for three armed robberies and a Bond Street jewellery heist. His life was a set pattern and he was pleased with its natural progression. A womaniser by instinct and, with a good teacher in the shape of his father, he loved women, money and prestige, in that order. The latter guaranteeing him the former, as he knew from experience. Women had loved him from the tender age of fifteen and, looking twenty, he had been fortunate enough to have the pick of the litters around and about. His first encounter with a thirty-five-year-old French teacher had taught him that most women were as up for it as their male counterparts, they just acted as if they weren’t interested because of public censure. In fact, most of the women he had come across would fuck a table leg if it had a nice set of togs and a decent motor. The fact that he was possessed of the gift of the gab was a bonus. He talked a good fuck, and he had found he was capable of delivering one into the bargain. Sex, or more importantly, the promise of the sex act, was his whole life and, unlike most romancers, he loved to pleasure a woman, loved hearing her cry out, watch her enjoy his ministrations; that was as much of a turn on as the chase itself.
    A good-looking boy with an athletic body and fair countenance, he knew he was a babe magnet; women of all ages, sizes, shapes and descriptions loved him. And in all of them he found something to love. He had taken the cherry of more than a few young girls and he had done it with what he considered panache. He saw himself as their teacher in matters of the personal and private. He enjoyed the role of tutor.
    He enjoyed both the danger of a married woman and the innocence of a young girl new to the game. Jason liked the knowledge of their bodies, liked the way the experienced women guided him into their bodies all wet and warm and grateful.
    Danger appealed to him, and he admitted that to himself.
    As Jason snuck into a small, terraced house in Bow he was smiling. The wife of a notorious bank robber lived there and her husband was in court at this very moment for non-payment of fines. That he had been banged