Finders Keepers Read online

  Table of Contents

  Finders Keepers (Retribution, #2)

  Prologue

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty One

  Twenty Two

  Twenty Three

  Twenty Four

  Twenty Five

  Twenty Six

  Twenty Seven

  Twenty Eight

  Twenty Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty One

  Thirty Two

  Thirty Three

  Thirty Four

  Thirty Five

  Thirty Six

  Thirty Seven

  Thirty Eight

  Thirty Nine

  Forty

  Forty One

  Forty Two

  Forty Three

  Forty Four

  Forty Five

  Forty Six

  Forty Seven

  Forty Eight

  Forty Nine

  Fifty

  Fifty One

  Fifty Two

  Fifty Three

  Fifty Four

  Fifty Five

  Fifty Six

  Fifty Seven

  Fifty Eight

  Fifty Nine

  Sixty

  Sixty One

  Epilogue

  Thank You!

  More From This Series

  More From This Author

  About The Author

  Acknowledgements

  Join Edie's Mailing List

  FINDERS KEEPERS

  THE RACE IS ON...

  When Saul Powell is released early from prison, it causes mayhem for the family firm. His brother, Jonah, has enough problems trying to keep semblance amidst the chaos, not to mention his fast approaching unwanted marriage.

  But even Jonah’s problems pale into insignificance compared to what Robert Adams is discovering about his mother, Dulcie – the woman he's always put on a pedestal.

  In the meantime, Teagan Fraser is also facing a dilemma – one which could ruin her life completely.

  Can anyone come out of this nightmare unscathed?

  Fans of Martina Cole, Kimberley Chambers and Jessie Keane will love Finders Keepers.

  Also by Edie Baylis

  Until the End of Time (Downfall Series #1)

  Escaping the Past (Downfall Series #2)

  Vengeful Payback (Downfall Series #3)

  The Downfall Series Box Set

  The Status Debt (Hunted Series #1)

  The Family Legacy (Hunted Series #2)

  The Target of Lies (Hunted Series #3)

  An Old Score (Retribution Series #1)

  FINDERS KEEPERS

  RETRIBUTION SERIES #2

  EDIE BAYLIS

  First published in Great Britain in 2021 by Athame Press.

  All rights reserved. No parts of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any means without the prior written permission of the copyright owner, nor be otherwise circulated in any form or binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent publisher.

  Copyright © Edie Baylis 2021

  The moral right of the author has been asserted

  Front cover design Copyright © Athame Press/Edie Baylis 2021

  Front cover photography: Clem Onojeghuo/Unsplash, Erik Lattwein/Dreamstime

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain are fictitious and any resemblance to any real person, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  e-ISBN 978-1-9161627-5-4

  Athame Press

  Unit 13230 - PO Box 6945 – London – W1A 6US

  Prologue

  2005

  SAUL POWELL TIPPED his third pint down his neck and looked around the Kings Arms finding it fitting this place should be his first port of call, considering what he’d done here was what landed him a long stretch. ‘You’ve no idea how fucking good this tastes, mate,’ he said, a wide grin across his face. ‘It’s the little things in life you miss the most.’

  Keith Grogan returned the smile, his one gold tooth amongst the other slowly decaying ones glinting in the yellow glow of the overhead lights, their stained glass shades doing nothing to help the dimly lit interior of the room.

  Despite it being a sunny afternoon, the Kings Arms always appeared to be in a perpetual state of winter – its worn and gloomy interior not encompassing any hint of the outside seasons, courtesy of the frosted glass windows blocking out all natural light and the shabby green curtains no good for anything, short of cutting down the draught from the ill-fitting, rotten frames.

  Personally, Keith wanted to go somewhere a little more salubrious to celebrate Saul’s early release after seventeen long years at Her Majesty’s Pleasure, but Saul was insistent they came here, preferring this back street pub rather than one of the many pubs that had transformed into wine bars in his absence. He had little penchant for wine, preferring a good old pint rather than some poncy overpriced grape juice, but at least wine bars offered a more pleasing vista than this place.

  His eyes strayed to a pair of elderly women sitting opposite, fags in trap and legs akimbo, complete with wrinkled stockings, one avidly scratching herself, whilst the other picked through a packet of bacon crisps she’d tipped onto the sticky tabletop.

  ‘Appreciate you collecting me, Keith,’ Saul continued, pulling a new packet of cigarettes from his jacket, his cold blue eyes scrutinising his friend. ‘No issue getting the time out, I take it?’

  Keith opened a bag of pork scratchings, offering them to Saul and seeing the quick refusal, happily began cramming them into his mouth. ‘The question wasn’t even asked.’ His face slid into a sneer. ‘He’s tied up organising the show’s rota since the woman who usually does it has done a runner.’

  Saul put his pint down none too gently. ‘Gwen? She’s done a runner? Why?’

  Keith shrugged. ‘Yeah, Gwen. Not sure why exactly. She hasn’t exactly done a runner, she just hasn’t been seen for a few days.’

  Saul rolled his eyes. ‘That says it all really. Instead of sorting out where the fuck our haul has gone, my dearest brother is only concerned with which bird is dancing with who on the stage, the fucking prick. That’s been Jonah’s fundamental problem all along. His priorities are all to pot.’

  Keith glanced around uncomfortably. Several people had been eyeing them since they’d arrived and he didn’t want to attract any undue attention, however much he agreed with Saul’s opinion. Plus it was awkward hearing Jonah get slated. The man was still his boss. For now. Truth was, thanks to his penchant for insisting on treading lightly around civilians, Jonah had allowed this situation to drag on for longer than it should have.

  Saul chugged down the rest of his pint. ‘Everything will be changing shortly, my man. Unfortunately for Jonah, he’ll be stepping down now I’m back.’ He grinned widely. ‘You’re sure he’s no clue I’ve been released?’

  Keith shook his head. ‘None whatsoever. I haven’t said a word. That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Saul’s bared teeth resembled a snarl rather than a smile. ‘It will be a surprise for him and everyone. One that’s very much overdue.’ Standing up, he slapped Keith on the back. ‘And you, my
friend, will help me put the firm back on the right footing and get some semblance back into the fucking place.’

  Keith was just about to remark about how pleased he was to return to working the way he excelled at, when the distinct change in Saul’s expression made him hesitate and instead follow where his old bosses eyes had moved their intense focus to.

  ‘Did you hear that?’ Saul hissed. ‘Did that wanker over there say what I think he fucking said?’

  ‘Eh? I didn’t hear anythi...’

  ‘I’m sure that cock said something about me. That lot over at that table have been fucking staring since we came in.’

  Keith had no time to respond before Saul jumped up, knocking his chair over and barged rapidly towards the group of men.

  ‘What did you just say?’ Saul roared, fronting up to the man sitting at the back of the round table. ‘You talking about me?’

  The man wearing a grubby donkey jacket smirked, his piggy eyes glinting. ‘All I said was you’re a dead ringer for that bloke in nick. That geezer from the Powell firm. No offence, mate, it’s just you look a bit like him, that’s all.’

  ‘And what’s that supposed to fucking mean? What do you mean, no offence?’ Saul yelled, the whole pub now deadly silent.

  Keith glanced warily at the barman who looked like he might be thinking about placing a call into the Old Bill. That was the last thing Saul needed an hour after being released from nick. Causing problems would mean his licence being revoked and he wanted Saul returning to prison probably less that the man himself did.

  ‘I’m waiting...’ Saul raged. ‘What did you mean by no offence? Come on?’

  ‘Fucking hell, mate. I didn’t mean anything! Some people might not take kindly to being likened to that nutter, that’s all.’ The man grinned. ‘Word has it the Powells are losing their clout around these parts nowadays.’

  Hearing this, Keith got to his feet to intervene, but he was too late. He watched with growing apprehension as, in one swift movement, Saul smashed the man’s pint glass on the table and then deep into his face.

  ‘Nutter, am I?’ Saul screeched, watching with satisfaction as the man’s face split, large ribbons of flesh hanging from his cheekbones. With minimal effort, he dragged the howling man over the table, snorting in derision as his companions scrambled out of harm’s way.

  ‘No, please...’ The man raised his hands in a futile effort to protect what was left of his face.

  With women screaming, Saul rained debilitating punches into the man’s face, his nose collapsing on impact. ‘My firm’s losing its clout? That’s the general consensus is it?’

  Keith’s eyes darted back to the barman, his hand hovering by the phone. Shit. This wasn’t how he’d foreseen the afternoon going, but he couldn’t let this tosser call the cops. Pulling his pistol from his waistband, he aimed at the barman who lurched backwards into a shelf of neatly stacked glasses, sending them crashing to the floor.

  With his hand still around the neck of the man he’d beaten to a pulp, Saul looked at Keith – his trusted right hand man and smiled.

  Turning, he faced the room. ‘Listen here, you bunch of cunts. I don’t know what shite has been flying around about my firm, but if I ever hear anything untoward coming out of any fucker’s mouth, I’ll cut their bastard tongues out, do you hear me?’

  Planting a kick to the side of the now silent man’s head, Saul’s mouth formed a menacing smile. ‘Do I need to make my point any clearer with this one here?’ He nodded to the unconscious man, his ruined face seeping thick blood onto the garish carpet. ‘Or will everyone remember that it’s rude and very silly to bandy around hearsay?’

  Keith took his eyes off the barman and glanced at Saul, the mania clear in his face and a mixture of both elation and fear grew. Things were definitely back on.

  ‘I am Saul Powell,’ Saul roared, ‘and let none of you forget it!’ He smiled at the sea of silent acknowledgments from the room. ‘Now, let’s not spoil my homecoming by causing problems, shall we?’

  Seeing everyone nod, Saul gave Keith the sign to put the gun away, confident none of these fuckers would involve the Old Bill. He glanced at one of the men. ‘You want to get your mate cleaned up? No hard feelings, but he’s spoiling the look of the gaff, don’t you think?’

  Grinning, Saul slapped the man on the back and stalked over to the bar, grinning widely at the terrified barman. ‘Another two Carlings, please mate.’ He nodded to the shelf of smashed glasses. ‘Make sure there’s no bits of glass in the drinks, yeah?’

  Nodding furiously, the barman flicked on the lager tap, eyeing Keith moving back to the table in the still silent room.

  Saul turned and smiled. ‘Carry on as you were, folks. Nowt worse than a quiet pub.’

  Keith leaned back in his chair and happily sparked up a fag. Saul was back alright. He’d get everything back on track and things would now be sorted.

  One

  JUNE 2005

  GWEN VELLA WATCHED THE POSTMAN making his way up the road and aimlessly wondered whether there was anything for her.

  She placed her hands around her mug of coffee, not knowing why, considering it was the tail end of June. It looked like it would be a decent summer this year, but what did it matter? Everything would be ruined if Lena had anything to do with it. To be frank, everything was ruined whichever way she looked at it.

  Seeing the postman walk past the path leading up to her small block of maisonettes, Gwen got up from her chair by the window and padded despondently through to her little kitchen. She usually enjoyed watching the world go by in her spare time, but for six days now she’d stared miserably out of the window – and today, just like the others, felt that despite the bright blue sky and the abundant sound of birds, it should be grey, wet and dismal to mirror how she felt.

  Even though there was hardly a patch of greenery around, unless the odd window box and postage-sized squares of grass in front of the maisonettes counted, Gwen liked her little place. It may not be much on the grand scale of things, but to her, it was her sanctuary. Now, thanks to Lena Taylor, she’d been ripped from that sanctuary and chucked headlong into a seething mass of writhing venomous snakes.

  How she wished she’d not bothered seeing if Lena was alright during the engagement party. If she hadn’t made the effort, she wouldn’t know what she now did. But then, being ignorant of Lena’s knowledge wouldn’t stop the conniving little cow from using it.

  It was six days since Gwen’s world had been rocked upside-down and the longer it went on, the worse it became. She knew her out of character disappearance would have been noticed. She also knew the time to act was limited – becoming tighter with every minute that passed. Furthermore, the passing of time was not revealing any solutions – if anything it was making everything more complicated. It certainly wasn’t getting her any closer to solving what had been unexpectedly dumped on her.

  Gwen pulled a loaf from her bread bin, then replaced it, unable to face eating. It was already 2pm and she hadn’t even bothered getting dressed. Sitting down on one of the two chairs at the small kitchen table, she put her head in her hands. What was she going to do?

  What had happened between her and Jacky Powell all those years ago had been relegated to the annals of time. Aside from her, the only other person who knew was Jacky – and he had taken their secret to his grave. At least that was what she’d thought until the night of the engagement party. It hadn’t crossed her mind this subject would come back from the dead to haunt her.

  Being around Jonah and Saul as young lads after they lost their mother helped put her guilt aside, but now it had reared its ugly head again. And the pain it would cause now would be a thousand times worse than if the truth had come out at the time.

  Gwen choked back a sob. She’d lose everything. Worse than that, Jonah would despise her and that would break her heart. Losing his trust, love and respect would be a lot worse than losing her job and reputation. A lot, lot worse.

  A lone tear escaped f
rom her eye and rolled slowly down her cheek.

  Although a lot older than her, Jacky Powell had been a handsome man. She’d thought that ever since the day she’d started work at the Feathers back in 1973. His very presence exuded power and strength and although she had a good idea from the off what he did – much not being above board, he was always charming and respectful to everyone.

  Although a lot of the girls’ pure aim was to seduce Jacky Powell, he’d never taken any of them up on their offers. He was far too loyal to his wife to ever entertain such a thought. That was until it happened...

  Gwen smiled sadly. She hadn’t meant for it to happen and couldn’t remember exactly when it did happen, but it had happened all the same.

  A few years after being promoted to managing the show at the Feathers, Gwen had also become Jacky’s personal confidante. She’d offered him an ear and given him a different take from those belonging to people who only dealt with things one way. She was good at thinking of viable options - ones with less risk to the firm and she and Jacky had become close. That was all there was to it; no ulterior motive from either side. It was purely business.

  But one night it did happen. As they’d pored over the books and bounced ideas off each other, a switch had flicked. To this day she couldn’t say how or why, but before she’d known it, their lips had met, fast turning into a mass of intertwined limbs.

  After this first encounter, despite the guilt, neither of them could stop themselves. It was more than sex. A lot more. Gwen had fallen head over heels with the man.

  Jacky, as always, was honest in as much that he would never leave his wife. He loved Carole but he’d loved Gwen too and she’d accepted this without question. She’d loved Jacky too much not to.