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her skin bristling as he enveloped her into a hug. Pressed against his hard chest, her nostrils were invaded by the overpowering scent of his expensive aftershave, horribly aware his heavily muscled arms could squeeze the life out of her any time he wished.

She’d forgotten just how much this man unnerved her. His mere presence set off alarm bells and his close proximity made the silent danger even more intimidating. Although she wanted to push him as far away from her as possible, Gwen couldn’t let his invisible ability to make her skin crawl get to her.

Physically, he was appealing; he had the same qualities that both Jonah and their father shared. There was no doubt that all of them were extremely handsome, well-built and powerfully charismatic, but Saul – Saul possessed a strange, detached coldness – an indescribable something that set the nerves on edge.

Glad when he released his hold, Gwen quickly sat down at her desk. ‘I’m pleased to see that you and Jonah made the decision to run this as a joint venture.’ Although the man engendered dread at the very base of her being, she had known him too long not to speak candidly. She wouldn’t tread on eggshells around either of the Powell boys.

Leaning casually against the opposite wall, Saul smirked. ‘Yes, it’s the most sensible thing to do. I want this firm to work.’

Gwen nodded, not believing a word. Saul was not a rational person. ‘Jonah’s done a good job keeping the business at the top of the game and I wouldn’t want anything to spoil that.’

A flash of anger crossed Saul’s face before hiding it behind a dazzling smile. ‘You’re looking great, Gwen. You haven’t changed in the seventeen years since I last saw you.’

Gwen pursed her lips. ‘That I very much doubt, but nice of you to say.’

Saul nodded at the empty desk. ‘And her?’

‘Have you not met Lena yet?’

Saul winked. ‘Nope. But I’ve heard about her. Fancy my brother getting himself hitched. I never expected that.’

‘Nor did I,’ Gwen muttered, wondering if Jonah had also mentioned to Saul the reason he was marrying the horrible woman.

‘What’s she like?’

‘See for yourself,’ Gwen said, spotting Lena peering through the glass of the office door.

Six

JOE WOKE UP WITH A mouth like an Arab’s sandal. He stuck his arm out from under the duvet and fumbled for his alarm clock.

Reluctantly opening his eyes, he focused his swimming vision on the clock’s face, his stomach dropping. He tried to unscramble his brain to work out what day it was – the last few days were a bit of a blank, but as his memory kicked in he sat bolt upright, dread weighing heavily. Shit. It was today – Alan’s funeral. Christ, what time was he supposed to be there or was the hearse coming here first? He couldn’t remember.

Wiping the sleep from his eyes, he pushed his unwashed hair off his face and tried to make sense of what was going on.

Joe glanced to the right, a mixture of relief and disappointment to see the other side of his bed empty, like it had been more often than not recently. Yes, disappointing that his dick had seen little action these past few weeks, but then he'd hardly been in any state where he would have been up to the job anyway. At least by not having any contact with the opposite sex, he avoided getting involved with someone who might add to his problems.

Pulling himself out of bed, he swayed unsteadily, the leftovers of what he’d consumed last night making themselves known. God, he felt rough.

He glanced at the pile of empty cans on the floor and the overflowing ashtray full of dog-ends, along with a half-smoked spliff and his stomach lurched.

And then he spotted it.

It was still there. Unfortunately, he hadn’t dreamt it.

Staggering across the room, Joe picked up the newspaper from the floor and plonked back down on his sagging mattress. The page he’d been reading last night – the one which had been the precursor to his latest drinking session, was still open. He forced himself to look at it again, just to double check that he really hadn’t been hallucinating:

Probe Into Murder Investigation Grinds to a Halt

Police investigating the brutal murder of Helen Shepherd, 44, partner of local estate agent Shepherd, Percival and Proctor, have finished their work at the scene of the crime.

Helen Shepherd died from a single gunshot wound to the chest last week at the home of her elderly mother, Dulcie Adams. Mrs Shepherd’s death came after her husband, James was found also brutally murdered at the couples’ home earlier that evening (22nd June). Police believe the killer was known to Mrs Shepherd as there were no signs of forced entry at either property and it was thought nothing had been taken.

Unfortunately, no unexplained fingerprints or other evidence has been unearthed at either property and police are left trying to piece together the motive from a description of the attacker by the victim’s mother, who witnessed her daughter’s murder from her hiding place.

There has been a worrying spate of brutal murders/attacks and disappearances in Maidenhead recently, and although nothing has been confirmed, it is widely questioned as to whether the Shepherds’ deaths, the disappearance of Ken Manning – another Maidenhead estate agent and another recent local attack could be linked?

Mrs Adams, who has been staying with relatives since this ordeal, is hoping to shortly return to her home and asks that she is left to grieve the death of her beloved daughter in peace.

Joe reached for a carton of orange juice at the side of his bed, grateful to find there was still some left. It tasted a bit rank and he had no idea how long it had been there, but he had to get this foul taste out of his mouth. If only it would also remove the knowledge that it looked very much like the

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