Takeover (The Allegiance Series) Read online

  Yes, it was all good: her new apartment was amazing and work was getting busier and better every day, but tonight she wouldn’t think about work. She would put her all into the party waiting for her at the casino – the party that was so important to both of her parents.

  It was a bit of a long-standing family joke. Every year since she could remember – from a toddler, right up to now at thirty years old – she had been ‘surprised’ by a party in her honour. When Liam had phoned, suggesting drinks before dinner, she’d had a good inkling they wouldn’t be going to dinner or drinks at all, but to her father’s casino like she did every single year.

  Sam clearly remembered all the parties her father had thrown for her – like the one for her thirteenth birthday. All her friends from school were invited and they’d all been allowed a proper drink from the bar for the first time. It might have only been a purposefully watered-down half-filled flute of champagne, but how grown-up had she felt, dolled up in her best clothes, sipping from the crystal-clear glass?

  That party was the talk of the school for months afterwards. How lucky she was to have a father who owned a casino and how cool her family was.

  But the party she remembered most was her eighteenth. That was the night her uncle was killed. Not that she was aware of that until the next day.

  As well as the sadness of Uncle Jimmy’s death, it had broken her heart to think her parents had managed to go the whole night of her party hiding their pain – her mother from losing her brother and her father from losing his best friend – purely not to spoil her evening. Her parents were the best and she felt blessed to have been so lucky, but she wasn’t stupid. She had a good idea what her father did behind the scenes of his shiny casino. Not everything, but a lot more than her mother did. There was more going on there than a bunch of shiny roulette tables and immaculately dressed croupiers. But did it bother her? Of course not. Her father was her father and always had been. He’d been the one to give her piggy backs; the one to dry her eyes and make her feel like the most special person in the world. He’d been the one to cheer her up when she’d been sad, given her something to aim for, and he’d also given her the greatest gift of all – the ability to believe in herself. Sam hoped now she’d reached the big milestone of being thirty that she’d achieved that well and once she’d fulfilled her dream of owning her very own design business, her life would be perfect.

  Hearing the intercom buzz, Sam glanced up. That must be Liam. Taking one last glimpse in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch bag and rushed through the door.

  Getting into Liam’s Audi, Sam smiled. ‘It would be quicker to walk, you know? The Orchid’s only round the corner.’

  Liam grinned, his eyes sparkling. ‘Yeah, but your father insisted. You haven’t forgotten this is supposed to be a surprise?’

  Sam laughed with delight. ‘Of course I haven’t!’ It was so silly. Everyone knew that she knew, but who cared? It never stopped it being any less special.

  It was less than a minute before Liam pulled up outside the Violet Orchid. He reached across and squeezed Sam’s hand. ‘You look stunning.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Sam said, hastily moving to open the passenger door.

  Liam was another story. She knew her father was hoping they’d become more than good friends because he liked the man. She liked Liam too, but there was something missing. Okay, so they’d shared the odd night together in the past and Liam had made no secret that he’d like their relationship to move that way on a permanent basis, but Sam was happy enough on her own and wanted it to stay like that.

  Throwing his keys to the parking attendant, Liam placed Sam’s arm through his as they walked up the steps to the entrance.

  ‘Evening, Miss Reynold, Mr Taylor,’ the doorman nodded as he held open the large doors to the reception area.

  Smiling, Sam walked across the plush carpet to deposit her jacket with the cloakroom attendant and glanced at her reflection in the mirrored panels of the casino reception.

  Not bad for thirty, she thought with an impish smile.

  The slinky cream satin dress she’d chosen for the evening accentuated the shape of her slender figure and set off the dark waves of her hair perfectly, the long glossy tresses cascading halfway down the criss-cross strap detail of her backless gown. She gently touched the large three-carat centrepiece diamond of the necklace resting perfectly against the hollow of her neck – another of the presents her parents had handed her this morning.

  ‘Ready?’ Liam grinned, his hazel eyes twinkling as he nodded towards the double doors, the usual hustle and bustle of the casino unusually quiet. ‘Remember to look suitably surprised.’

  Sam arched one eyebrow. ‘As if I wouldn’t…’ She readied herself as Liam pushed the heavy double doors open.

  2

  Standing to the side of her husband, Gloria Reynold smoothed down the dark pink skirt of her tailored suit and fidgeted. She eyed the array of perfectly dressed, young and beautiful women surrounding them and hoped she didn’t look like mutton dressed as lamb.

  Never one for the limelight, over the years she’d made a consistent effort to take a back seat where her involvement in Len’s casino was concerned, only ever venturing into the glitzy world her husband frequented when she really had to or when it was important for him. She’d been there when he’d first opened the Violet Orchid, and although it had been a huge source of pride that Len had progressed so well with his business to warrant purchasing a casino by the age of twenty-eight, this world of fancy clothes, big spenders and over-confidence was as far removed from what she found comfortable as it could be.

  However, even Gloria’s crippling nervousness of being surrounded by all these people so vastly different to herself could never do anything to dilute the love and pride in the man she’d married.

  She studied Len’s side profile as he towered above her; his concentration honed on when their daughter would burst through the doors. Devilishly handsome, even at sixty-eight, he cut an impressive figure in his tailor-made tuxedo, his physique still remarkably good.

  Gloria had never dreamt a man such as Len would have been interested in her. Growing up in Erdington, they’d lived in the same road of back-to-back terraces. Len was good pals with her older brother Jimmy and a frequent visitor to their little family home.

  It was only when she reached twelve that she’d developed a private fascination for the dapper, confident and grown-up seventeen-year-old Len had by then become. At twelve, the difference between her and someone of seventeen or eighteen was immense. Plus, after working odd jobs for local firms, both Len and her brother had progressed into something called ‘runners’. Proper jobs, not errand boys for the local butcher or anything like that.

  Gloria never knew exactly what runners were because both Jimmy and Len always stopped talking whenever she was in earshot, but whatever it was, her parents hadn’t been too happy about it. She remembered the many earbashings Jimmy received from their mother about his line of work.

  Her mother had changed her tune somewhat when Jimmy began bringing home more money in a week than their father earnt in a month and, soon after that, Gloria noticed her parents found themselves more accepting of her brother’s trade.

  Throughout all of this, Gloria successfully managed to keep her fascination for Len to herself. This was probably best, being as her brother and Len attracted a constant stream of older girls – girls a lot prettier and more grown-up than her.

  Gloria smiled to herself as Len placed his arm around her and gestured towards the waiting photographer. She hated photos and had never been particularly photogenic – so her mother had always liked to say – but turning, she reluctantly smiled for the press.

  No, her fascination for Leonard Reynold had started over half a century ago and hadn’t waned since. She’d been unable to believe it when, after she turned sixteen, Len had suddenly asked her to the pictures. Gloria had been convinced it was a wind-up. Flushing crimson, she’d looked around for a bunch of Len’s mates, including her brother, to jump from their hiding places and laugh hysterically at her gullibility for thinking it could ever be a remote possibility that someone like Len Reynold would be interested in a shrew-like boring person, such as her – Gloria Maynard.

  But Len was very much interested and within the year they were married. Not only were they married, but with Len’s fantastic earnings, they’d even bought a house – only a tiny one around the corner from her parents, but they’d bought it all the same. Everyone else she knew – every single person – rented, yet they owned theirs.

  On top of this, Len was progressing fast in the firm he worked for. He’d done well, as had her brother.

  Gloria never asked too much about what they did – that was men’s business. All she knew was, as well as being gorgeous, kind and funny, Len loved her and treated her like a princess.

  After ten years, Len had his own company – his very own business, with her brother Jimmy as his right-hand man. He’d even risked every penny they had buying a building in the city centre. It was a rundown dump of a place, but within a year and a lot of hard graft, it was a fully-functioning, sparkling casino – the very one she was standing in right now.

  Len’s firm and casino had gone from strength to strength and his business empire had expanded fourfold. Len had been one of the youngest men ever to own such a fabulous club and had set the precedent for the area, spawning several other casinos and clubs to spring up around him. But the Violet Orchid was by far the most glamorous, popular and successful one in the city.

  Of course, they’d bought a bigger house, the first of three, and with money being no object, Gloria used her time organising the decoration and furnishing, which she enjoyed immensely. But this day was the most important. It was this day thirty years ago when her life had become complete – the day that marked when her darling daughter had arrived.

  A flicker of sadness passed over Gloria’s face. It was also the twelfth anniversary of the day that her rock of a brother had died.

  Suddenly hearing hushed whispers, Gloria knew Samantha was about to appear. Clutching onto Len’s arm, she stood in readiness.

  ‘SURPRISE!’ the chorus echoed, along with a cacophony of exploding party poppers, flashbulbs and the sudden thumping of music.

  Gloria smiled, watching Sam making her way over the thickly carpeted floor of the casino towards her. Tears pricked her eyes. Sam was wearing the flower – the orchid – those flowers that marked her birthday and the club’s namesake.

  ‘I can’t believe you’ve done all this!’ Sam smiled, enclosing both her parents in a hug, her beautiful face lighting up with a wide smile. ‘It’s perfect. Thank you!’

  ‘Happy birthday, sweetheart,’ Len said, planting a kiss on his daughter’s forehead. ‘How does it feel to be thirty?’

  ‘Old!’ Sam laughed.

  ‘A photo of all three of you, please?’ a photographer asked, gesturing in Sam’s direction.

  Len, Gloria and Sam turned towards the camera, flashbulbs exploding as other photographers bustled into place to catch the moment.

  Len kissed Gloria on the cheek. ‘I’ll be back shortly.’

  ‘Where are you going?’ Gloria asked, her fingers itching to keep hold of his tuxedo sleeve. ‘It’s Sam’s birthday.’

  ‘John needs a quick word, but I won’t be long, I promise.’

  Gloria watched Len stride towards John Maynard standing at the brightly illuminated bar before turning her attention back to her daughter.

  Tom Bedworth shoved the remains of a microwaved burger into his mouth as he left the late-night café. He could have really done with something more substantial, like his usual egg and chips. This place wasn’t skimpy on the chips and they always chucked in some bread and butter as well, but tonight he had a thirst on, so he’d just grabbed something to go.

  Skirting around a couple arguing on the pavement, he haphazardly crossed the road at the Horsefair roundabout, narrowly avoiding getting clipped by the back end of a double-decker.

  Reaching the other side of the road, he hesitated, contemplating whether to return to the Aurora first. Shrugging, he continued to the Gun Barrels. The Aurora could wait.

  Yanking open the stiff door of the pub, Tom walked into the tap room, his ears immediately assaulted by the raucous chatter and tinny music blasting from the jukebox.

  Grinning, he sauntered up to the bar. ‘Evening, Dave. The usual, please.’

  Dave pulled a pint glass from a shelf under the wooden bar and held it under the Carling tap. ‘Back again?’ he laughed. ‘Thought you’d called it a night when you buggered off nigh on half hour ago.’

  ‘Nah,’ Tom winked. ‘Just needed some grub. I’m only having a couple more and meeting Jock. Is he in yet?’

  ‘Jock? No, not yet,’ Dave replied, placing Tom’s pint on the brass drip tray.

  Picking up the pint, Tom scowled as he leant in a pool of lager on the sticky bar top. He pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and glanced around. It never hurt to keep his eyes open for suitable contenders. He needed a good range of women for the punters to choose from. They couldn’t all be oriental birds and that was all Jock had managed to get on the books so far. They might be as cheap as chips, but he wanted variety – choice. Classy birds, too. He wanted to provide just as much eye candy as the places he would shortly be wiping off the map.

  But wasn’t that what, amongst other things, he paid Jock for? To sort the wheat from the chaff and make sure that side of the business ticked over nicely? That had been the point of looking the man up again, hadn’t it? To help put his plan into motion?

  But on the whole, everything was going well. Despite being off the scene for three decades, Tom found his native accent flowed without having to try too hard and it had been pleasantly straightforward digging out the word on the street.

  It had been a bit of a gamble after all this time. Birmingham was a big place, but picking this side of town was purposeful. His flutter had paid off and it hadn’t taken long to locate people he knew of old who were still in the business. Some he’d been able to accost for favours and others he’d pulled in to work on his behalf – like Jock Sawyer, which enabled him to quickly step back into the game. It was amazing what flashing the cash did around these parts, and he had enough of that – at least at the moment.

  Now he’d established a good supplier, he could encroach on some of the better-known dealing patches. That part was most important because it was a vital stage of his game plan, which was already well underway.

  Tom’s eyes glistened with excitement. After all this time – all this bloody time of sitting on his hands waiting for enough time to pass since the first fuck up, it had finally arrived. This time he was not ballsing up. This time there would be no mistakes and he would get a proper pay-out. He would not be ripped off again. Furthermore, he would recoup every single penny of interest he would have accrued had he been given his proper dues in the bloody first place.

  This time he would take everything.

  3

  John Maynard tried really hard not to let the resentment seep out of his brain onto his face. He didn’t know why he was even bothering passing the message on because Len wouldn’t be interested. Not today, anyway. Nothing could ever take precedence over his cousin Samantha’s birthday. It never had done and never would. Even if the world was on fire, it would have to wait until her birthday was over.

  He looked at Len and scowled inwardly, seeing his concentration fixed through the one-way glass panel of the office overlooking the main casino area below, no doubt on his daughter. ‘I thought I should let you know straight away, even if you decide it’s not worth considering.’

  Len reluctantly pulled his eyes away from Samantha and slapped John on the shoulder. ‘No, you were right to tell me. I was just thinking…’

  John pursed his lips. Thinking about whether Samantha’s champagne was chilled enough? That would be the first thing he would do when he finally got the reins to this place. No more birthday bashes for Samantha Reynold. Ever.

  Len eyed John sadly. ‘I’m also aware that as well as Sam’s birthday, it’s the anniversary of the day your father was taken. I don’t know whether I’ve ever told you, or whether you’d guessed, but that’s partly the reason I keep these birthday bashes going.’

  John swallowed hard. He hadn’t expected that, and an unexpected lump formed in his throat. ‘I…’

  ‘Let’s have a toast!’ Len walked to the drinks cabinet and poured out two shots of whisky, handing one to John. ‘Here’s to Jimmy’s memory – my best pal – and to my girl, Sam.’

  ‘Cheers,’ John muttered, chucking the whisky down his throat.

  Len placed his now empty glass on his desk. ‘Now, tell me more about this message from Stoker.’

  ‘There wasn’t a lot said. The eldest son came in,’ John sniffed. ‘The aloof bastard – you know the one? He said Mal wants a meet ASAP. Something to do with the Aurora?’

  Len frowned. ‘The what?’

  ‘That casino, doss house – whatever it is that’s opened down the arse end of the Hagley Road.’

  Len raised his eyebrows. ‘Oh, I heard something about that. What the hell have they got to do with anything? They’re hardly encroaching on our doorstep, and from what I’ve heard, aren’t likely to either.’ He grinned. ‘I don’t think we need to worry that any of our customers will favour there instead of here, do you?’

  John shrugged. ‘No, I don’t, but it seems they’re getting fly by sending out scouts to tout their business on our patches, as well as on the Stokers’. Word is they’ve been threatening runners.’