The Stretch (Stephen Leather Thrillers) Read Online Free Page B

said Asher. ‘You will have control over all of his companies, signing rights for his bank accounts. All we need you to do is to sign a few forms.’
    Sam twisted her cigarette into the crystal ashtray. ‘You’re taking the piss.’ She stood up. She could feel her whole body trembling and she fought to stay calm. ‘You’re as bad as he is. Both of you.’
    She stormed out and slammed the door behind her.
    Patterson turned away from the window and gave Asher a pained smile. ‘Told you she wouldn’t like it.’
    ‘Like it or lump it, she’ll come around. She doesn’t have a choice.’
    ∗      ∗      ∗
     
    Laura Nichols sat on the sofa, her legs drawn up underneath her. The television was on, the sound muted. She had just watched the third news report of the day covering her father’s sentence. Little had been added since the story was first broadcast that afternoon. West London businessman Terry Greene, sentenced to life for the murder of small-time drug dealer Preston Snow. A major Customs investigation naming him as a suspected drugs importer. Pictures of Sam being pursued from the court by the Press pack, escaping into Jamie’s Land Rover, and a screaming Luke Snow throwing a bottle at the vehicle as it drove away. A photograph of her father, smiling and looking younger than his fifty-two years, his black hair swept slightly back, his eyes sparkling as if he’d just seen something amusing. Then a photograph of her mother, taken more than twenty-five years earlier, a publicity shot from a Christmas variety show, singing on a stage flanked by long-legged dancers.
    The front door opened and then slammed shut and Laura winced. Jonathon Nichols walked into the sitting room and threw his briefcase on to a winged chair. ‘Have you any idea what sort of day I’ve had?’ he hissed. He went over to a table laden with bottles and poured himself a whisky. He drained the glass in one gulp, and refilled it before turning to glare at her. ‘There I am, trying to put together one of the biggest fucking deals of my career, and what happens? The fucking Evening Standard has me in its City gossip page.’ He took a rolled-up copy of the paper from the pocket of his suit and hurled it across the room at her. It flew apart in the air in a shower of pages.
    Laura curled herself up into a tighter ball, keeping herself as small as possible, not wanting to provoke him.
    ‘Son-in-law of a convicted murderer, making a killing from dot com deal,’ he said. Whisky spilled out of the glass and on to the carpet. ‘How do you think that makes me look, huh? They’re laughing at me behind my back. Taking the piss. Because of your fucking father.’
    ‘I’m sorry,’ whispered Laura, hugging a cushion to her chest.
    ‘Sorry. You’re sorry? How does you being sorry help me, huh?’
    Laura turned her face away. She knew there was nothing that she could say that would placate him. She’d just have to wait until his anger had run its course.
    ‘Don’t fucking ignore me,’ said Nichols, striding across the room towards her.
    ‘I’m not ignoring you,’ she said, her voice trembling.
    ‘So look at me.’
    Laura looked up at him tearfully.
    ‘And stop fucking crying. What have you got to cry about, huh? Your job’s not on the line. No one’s taking the piss out of you.’
    ‘My father’s in prison!’ shouted Laura.
    ‘And whose fucking fault is that!’ Nichols yelled back.
    ‘It’s not mine!’
    Nichols threw his drink over her. The whisky stung her eyes but she refused to wipe it away. She let it run down her face and over her shirt. Her lower lip trembled and she bit down on it, hard enough to taste blood.
    ‘Are you happy now?’ yelled her husband. ‘See what you made me do? See what you’ve reduced me to?’
    Laura got up and tried to get past him, but he grabbed her by the hair and twisted it savagely.
    ‘You always do this, you always push me too damn far. It’s not enough that I have to go