The Dons of Warrington E-Book

Isobel Wycherley

• Herausgeber: Next Chapter
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

As Mafia families wreak havoc across the globe, two unexpected twin sisters cause even more of a stir when they unite with the Italian Mafia family operating in Manchester - the exact family their father, DC Tim Shelley, is tailing.

Sent on treacherous missions by Don Fontana, the twins set out to make a name for themselves in the criminal underworld, with the police hot on their tail. But is it worth the fight?

Assassinations, SWAT team raids and illegal activity all take their toll on one character after another in this riveting race for power and control.

Leseprobe

THE DONS OF WARRINGTON

THE DONS OF WARRINGTON TRILOGY BOOK 1

ISOBEL WYCHERLEY

CONTENTS

Acknowledgments

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Next in the Series

About the Author

Copyright (C) 2021 Isobel Wycherley

Layout design and Copyright (C) 2021 by Next Chapter

Published 2021 by Next Chapter

Edited by Lorna Read

Cover art by CoverMint

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the author’s permission.

Dedicated to my not-so-twin sister Georgia Wycherley

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

As always, thank you to my family, friends, and strangers that buy my books. It gets harder to write acknowledgments every time, as I feel like I’m mentioning the same people, but I really couldn’t do it without you all- Especially the language translations, provided to me by: Francesco Barone, Jorn Vis, Maximillian Tassev and Merlin Pinkepank.

Even without knowing, you encourage and influence my writing with every interaction we have. There are a lot of new people coming into my life at the moment and I think that’s reflected through the mass of interesting characters in this new trilogy.

I hope you enjoy reading this first book, and if you’re not begging for the second one, I haven’t done my job properly.

Buona Fortuna, mio amico!

PROLOGUE

The SWAT team begin slowly scaling the stairs in formation, their guns swinging from side to side trying to cover all potential vantage points. But it isn’t enough. Most of the soldiers are shot dead on the way up, their rigid bodies, covered in heavy armour, slumping down the stairs headfirst like useless, tangled Slinkies.

Sonny reloads using her last ammo clip; she desperately needs to finish them all off with this remaining round of bullets. Within seconds, she guns down over half of the squad with deadly precision. The last two surviving enemies make it to the top of the split staircase, one heading either side towards the girls

They take refuge behind the final pair of columns on the landing, the only ones to not be riddled with bullet holes.

“How much ammo do you have?” Sonny asks her sister quietly.

“Not a lot,” Al replies worriedly.

Sonny exhales heavily. “How long do we have?” she asks, referring to how much time until they’re shot by their impending assailants.

Al thinks carefully before she answers, “Five seconds.”

Sonny nods defiantly. “Now.”

They both quickly drop to their knees and peer around the pillar, their pistols out in front of them. Al squeezes the trigger and the bullet pierces a hole right in between her target’s eyes and he slowly slumps to the floor in phases. The legs are the first to go, then the arms, and finally, he falls flat on his face. A crimson river pools out of him and absorbs into the cream carpet, just like syrup trickling into a snow cone.

Sonny pulls the trigger, and the dreaded click of an empty barrel seals her fate. She takes a quick glance from her target to the pistol, and back to look into his eyes. He smirks at her. Her muscles loosen and her blood drains as she comes to terms with death. With a deep breath, she closes her eyes and a deafening shot echoes against the high ceilings.

CHAPTERONE

Detective Constable Tim Shelley inconspicuously parks his black BMW M5 in a dimly lit, private car park in the centre of Manchester. He opens the driver’s side door and places a steady right foot on the tarmac. He makes sure to scour the area first before taking his left foot out of the car, just in case.

He is a man of average height and looks young for his age. His hair is still a dark shade of brown, but is encroached by a few strands of silver bristles at the side of his head. He has a serious face that never seems to break into a smile, unless he’s around his loved ones, and he carries with him an air of respect.

He locks the car as he strides towards the small Italian restaurant, Fonty’s, on the corner of Princess Street. Its grand-looking, cream marble staircase invites you in with its whispers of elegance. As he approaches, the front doors swing open and the smell of freshly baked garlic bread spills out onto the streets outside. He takes a deep breath; his mouth begins to water.

“Hello, Mr Shelley,” announces a tall, gentle-looking man who has dark features, but completely lacks hair on his head and face and probably on the rest of his body, too, thinks Tim. “If you’d like to come with me, I’ll show you to your table.” He holds out his arm and smiles, welcoming Shelley in.

Shelley trails behind the man, taking notice of the hordes of customers who are chatting rapidly, and eating even quicker. There’s something about Italian restaurants that make them louder than any other cuisine, Shelley thinks to himself.

They reach an empty, red velvet booth and the waiter beckons Shelley to sit. He takes another look around the restaurant before stiffly sitting down on the soft-cushioned bench.

The man smiles. “Can I get you a drink, a menu?”

“I’ll have a water… and maybe some of that garlic bread, please,” Shelley requests, unable to resist his temptations and hunger.

The man smiles more brightly now. “Excellent choice, sir. Our garlic bread is the best in the city.” With that, he spins around to fetch Shelley’s order.

Shelley can’t help but feel on edge. The meeting was set up in a friendly manner, but there’s always the possibility that the Mafia are just coaxing him into their territory to get rid of him quietly and without witnesses. Thankfully, he decided to bring his gun with him tonight.

The waiter returns with a glass of water and a plate of garlic bread. He carefully places them onto the table, then leans in closer to Shelley.

“My name is Calvino. My father, Don Fontana, will be with you shortly.” He says this without expression, straightens up, and continues to serve other customers.

Shelley begins to shift in his seat now, but is comforted by the fact that the meeting will take place in the midst of a bustling restaurant. He takes a gulp of cold water and picks at the edges of his garlic bread. It’s as delectable as he had imagined.

As Shelley is demolishing his first slice of garlic bread, the staff door swings open casually, and a short, broad-shouldered old man emerges, wearing a stylish pinstripe suit. For a man of his age, he has a thick head of salt and pepper hair, combed into a stylish sweep across his forehead. He has a little curly moustache, like Poirot, that makes his face look even more handsome. It is clear to Shelley that this is The Don. There is a shield of intimidation surrounding the man. The waiting staff rush to look busy and avoid even glancing in his direction.

“Mr Shelley, how wonderful to see you!” He extends his hand for Shelley to shake.

Tim stands up to greet him, taking his hand firmly. “Mr Fontana,” he says bluntly, making sure to hold defiant eye contact.

“What do you think of the garlic bread, it’s delicious, no?” The handsome old man smiles as he sits down on the opposite side of the booth.

“Yes, it’s very nice.”

“Do you mind if I have a piece myself?” Don Fontana asks, with raised eyebrows.

“Go for it.” Shelley waves dismissively, grabbing a slice for himself as well.

Don Fontana takes a hefty bite out of the bread. “Mmm, fantastico.” He kisses his fingers. “So… Mr. Shelley, you wanted to talk with me about something.”

“Yes. It’s about the Baulsack family,” Shelley explains.

Don Fontana licks the melted cheese off of his thumb and throws his arms up in disgust. “Ugh! Those barbarians. I condemn the day they arrived in this city, bringing with them their vile behaviour and unsolicited violence. Did you know they killed my cousin’s son? He was no trouble to them; he had just started university.”

“I’m aware of that, yes. How come you didn’t retaliate?” Shelley quizzes.

“We are not usually violent, Detective. My cousin just wanted to move on with his life, and his remaining family, they went back to Italy. Those Germans on the other hand, they love violence.”

“I know. I’m trying to eradicate them from the country, but, as you probably know, the other detectives are receiving bribes from the family and won’t help me. That’s why I’ve come to you.”

Don Fontana’s eyes light up and he leans a little closer to Shelley over the table. “You want my help?” He smiles.

“Yes. Nothing much, I just need you to tell me where I can find Helmut Baulsack. It’s a win-win for us both. I get to do my job and keep people safe and you get to put your family’s killer behind bars.”

Don Fontana lets out a little laugh, raspy from chain-smoking. “You won’t find Helmut here. He is still operating in Germany. The man you’re looking for is his brother, Holdis.”

“Holdis Baulsack… Is that a real name?” Shelley asks.

“None of them sound like real names, they’re ridiculous!” Don Fontana lets out a hearty laugh.

Shelley smirks slightly, too. “So where can I find him?”

“I will write down an address. That is where he lives, you should find him there. Excuse me while I retrieve the information for you.” He stands up from the table in a slow and intimidating manner, nods gently to Shelley and strolls back through the staff door.

Shelley continues to eat the rest of the now slightly cold garlic bread on the plate as he looks around at the customers. He wishes he could bring his own family here for dinner one night, but that’s too dangerous.

Don Fontana reappears, this time holding a small piece of paper in his hand. Shelley rises from his chair, ready to leave after receiving the tiny scrap of hope.

“Here you are, my friend.” They shake hands and Don Fontana deposits the note into Shelley’s hand.

“Thank you, Mr Fontana.”

“Please, call me Don.” He smiles. “We’re friends now.”

He nods. “Pleasure doing business with you, Don.”

“You’re home late,” Karen says to her husband.

“I was just finishing up on a lead. I think I’ve got them.”

“The Germans?” She spins around from the sink to look at him.

He lets out a small sigh. “Well, not all of them, but it’s a start.”

“That’s great. Well done, honey.” She smiles and kisses him on the cheek. “You smell of garlic. Have you had your tea?”

“Erm, yeah. I got something from the canteen at work, thank you, darling.” He kisses her cheek this time.

“The girls are outside.” She smiles at him and wanders back into the kitchen.

Shelley walks out of the back door and spots his daughters smoking and chatting on the swing bench. He doesn’t like them smoking, but even Shelley himself cannot fight the urge.

“Hey, girls. How are you both?” he asks, sitting on the small wicker stool next to the garden table.

“Good, thanks!” they both chirp,

“How are you?” Sonya asks him.

“Yeah, I’m alright.” He sighs. “Could do with one of those, though.” He points to their cigarettes.

Alice slides the pack across the table to him. He puts one in his mouth and looks cross-eyed at the end while he lights it, breathing it in as it burns.

“What did you do at work today?” Alice quizzes.

“Nothing new really, you know I’m not supposed to discuss it with you. I made a lot of progress on it today, though.”

“Well, that’s good then. One step closer to having your very own Baulsack!” Sonya jokes and they all laugh.

“You know he’s got a brother, Holdis?” Shelley tells them, waiting for them to pick up on the funny side.

“Holdis Baulsack?” The girls burst into laughter. “That can’t be a real name!”

“That’s what I said!” Shelley joins in.

“His parents mustn’t have liked him,” Alice reckons.

“At least they didn’t call him Sonya.” Sonya rolls her eyes; she’s always hated her own name.

“What – Sonya Baulsack? Ha-ha,” Alice teases.

“You’ve got a lovely name!” Shelley tries not to laugh. “What’s wrong with Sonya?”

Her face is deadpan. “Everything.”

Alice nods. “She’s got a point. Right, I’m off to bed.” She pushes herself up from the bench.

“Me too.” Sonya joins her.

They both give their father a hug and a kiss before re-entering the house. They carry out the same ritual with their mother, and head upstairs to bed.

CHAPTERTWO

Early the next morning, Tim Shelley prepares to ambush Holdis Baulsack at his Manchester residence. He sits at his desk in his cosy office, contemplating his plan of action. Every scheme he’s conjured up so far has resulted in him being dead when he simulates it in his mind.

How the hell am I going to do this alone? he thinks to himself. He cups his head in his palms, trying to think of a new plan. He has to get it done today.

“Alright, Dad?” Alice asks through the crack in the door.

He jolts in momentary surprise and swizzles around on his chair to face her. “Yeah, I’m alright, darling. I just can’t think of a way to catch Holdis without getting myself killed,” he admits reluctantly.

Alice walks over to his desk and rests her hand on his shoulder. She looks at the desk and observes the blueprints of Holdis’s residence.

“Wait, is that in Deansgate?” Alice asks.

“Yeah.”

“I’ve been there before! Dad, I know how you can get in.” She smiles excitedly and rocks him back and forth by his shoulders. All that truanting from her first year of college is finally starting to pay off.

“How?” he asks hesitantly. He doesn’t want to get her involved, but he’ll take all the help he can get.

“This balcony here.” She points to it on the paper. “If you look at the apartment blocks next door…” she explains as she pulls up maps on the computer, “you could easily jump from there onto the balcony, then through a window, or the door if you want to be boring about it.” She nudges him.

Shelley checks the plan over, simulating it in his head again. “That won’t work, he has guards there with him all day.” He shakes his head glumly.

“I can distract them for you. They’re not going to be suspicious of me, are they?”

He shakes his head more viciously now. “No. I’m not putting you in danger.”

“What’ve you been training us for then, nothing?”

“Your own protection!” he shouts.

“What’s going on?” Sonya appears in the doorway now.

They stop their arguing to look at her.

“Nothing,” Shelley quips.

“Dad won’t let me help him pull off the only plan that’ll work,” Alice counteracts.

“What plan?”

Alice explains it to her briefly and all the while Shelley sits back, listening, impressed with her planning but still not willing to let them help.

Sonya’s eyes light up. “I’ll help, too.”

“No! Neither of you are getting involved in this,” Shelley insists.

“Come on, Dad. You know we can do it! Plus, we’ve got nothing to do now college is over.”

“And how am I supposed to get him into my police car, hey? Walk him right past his guards, straight through his front door?” Shelley procrastinates.

“No, Dad, don’t be stupid… Out the back door. His guards won’t be there because we’re going to lure them outside. Jeez, don’t you know I’m better than that?” Alice rolls her eyes.

“Come on, it’s worth a shot, innit?” Sonya urges him to agree.

He thinks about it for a very long time before answering, “Let’s give it a go then, girls. Don’t tell your mother I’ve let you do this, or anyone for that matter. She’ll have a heart attack.” He wipes his damp forehead with the back of his hand.

The girls shout in excitement and hug each other like they’re footballers who’ve just won the league, pushing and shoving each other around playfully.

Shelley has never been so nervous as he pulls into the multi-storey car park, not far from the apartment blocks and the building that Holdis bought and had renovated into his personal home. Sonya is in the passenger seat, Alice in the back.

“Right. Let’s go over the plan,” Shelley orders.

“Okay, so, Dad, you need to get to the roof of the apartment building. I’ve done that before, you literally just need to take the lift to the fifth floor, go through the double doors and then up the stairwell to the top,” Alice explains.

“Why’ve you been on the roof before?” Shelley frowns.

“Dad, please, I’ll take questions at the end,” she diverts tactically. “Me and Sonny will make our way to his house and lure the bodyguards out into the street. You can then bring Holdis round the back, out of sight. Then we’ll finish up and drive this car back home.”

“Sounds good.” Shelley nods.

“Is your patrol car in place?” Sonya asks.

“Yeah. Everything’s ready,” Shelley confirms.

“Let’s go then.” Alice pats them both on the shoulder from the back seat.

Before they part, Shelley gives his daughters a long-drawn-out hug and kisses them on the forehead.

“Please be safe,” he tells them.

They both roll their eyes. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s go.”

Shelley paces to the apartment building and waits for the lift to appear on the ground floor. The girls, trailing behind slightly, wait until they see the doors meet and their dad disappear behind the metal curtains before they make their way to Holdis Baulsack’s front door.

“Ready?” Sonya asks her twin sister.

“Ready, lad,” she replies, before running a few paces down the road and collapsing on the ground.