– ‘The Magic of Wor(l)ds’ blog is a hobby, reviews and other bookish stuff on this site are done for free. –
Today I’m on the ‘The Final Trail (Trail Series #5)’ blogtour, organised by Love Books Tour.
To promote this book I have an excerpt, but b
About the Author :
English thriller writer AA Abbott’s real name is Helen Blenkinsop, but like JK Rowling, she wanted to . She loves city life, having lived and worked in London, Birmingham and Bristol. Her crime thrillers, set in Birmingham and London, sizzle with suspense, twists and the evils of office politics.
Helen’s books are available in a dyslexia-friendly large print as well as standard paperback and Kindle editions.
Her Trail Series follows the fortunes of glamorous blonde Kat White, a party girl who finds her purpose making vodka, shrewd businessman Marty Bridges, and manipulative East End crime lord Shaun Halloran.
Family feuds just got bloodier… A gripping thriller, and a great story of death, revenge and vodka.
To save glamorous Kat White’s life, Ben Halloran killed his gangster father. Now his brother wants to even the score.
The gripping Trail series of British crime thrillers reaches its dramatic conclusion in this compelling page turner.
Obsessed by glamorous Kat White, London gangster Shaun Halloran stalked her and tried to kill her. Now Shaun is dead and Kat has given evidence at his inquest.
She wanted to run from the chamber, from the court processes, well-meaning friends and blistering memories. Instead, her legs wobbled. To her relief, Kat made it to the oak doors opposite the jury, without a backward glance.
She passed into a lobby: small, dark and claustrophobic. The stuffy air seemed to suck breath from her lungs. It emerged in short, sharp gasps until, like a diver resurfacing, she burst from the tiny room onto a light and bright landing. A stone staircase led to the building’s imposing entrance on the floor below. Freedom and sunshine lay within her grasp.
She hadn’t quite reached the first step when she heard doors swishing open.
“Kat, wait,” Tim called.
She couldn’t bear to look.
His voice was lost in the clamour, as journalists surged towards her, tugging at her sleeve.
“Miss White, how are you feeling?”
“Was Shaun your boyfriend?”
“Kat, darling, I can offer you an exclusive – my paper will pay good money…”
She pulled away from the press pack, biting her lip. Tears nevertheless flowed freely. Attempting to dry her eyes with the back of her hand, Kat dashed downstairs and out onto the street below.
The reporters followed. Mobile phones and microphones were thrust in her face; cameras flashed.
“I can’t speak now,” she whispered. Outside, the air, laden with exhaust fumes, seemed even more stifling than in the courtroom. Sweat prickled her skin and dampened her hair into curls. She removed the uncomfortable black jacket.
Amy pushed through the crowd. “You left your bag,” she said, thrusting the cheap satchel into Kat’s hands.
“Thanks.” Kat looked down, unable to meet her friend’s eyes. There was no way she was talking to Tim, journalists or anyone else, either. Panic threatened to overwhelm her if she couldn’t escape.
A red bus slowed to a halt, mere yards away. She made as if to catch it, then raced past the queue, rushing around the rear of the vehicle and across the busy street.
Heedless of high heels pinching, Kat ran until she saw a black cab for hire. She hailed it, barely noticing Amy and Tim’s shocked faces among the throng as the taxi left them behind.
Tim would have even more questions. She couldn’t deal with them. It was bad enough casting her mind back to the horror of that final encounter with Shaun.
She’d read Shaun wrong when they first met. Although she knew he was a villain, she thought she could handle him. Now, she had a job she loved, making vodka, but her circumstances had been very different three years before. As a croupier in London’s West End, she’d lived in a flat she could barely afford and drifted from party to party without a purpose. The promise of cash had blinded her when Shaun asked her to train the croupiers in his speakeasy.
That had gone pear-shaped when he thought she’d stolen from him. Even though it wasn’t true, it had led to his arrest and life imprisonment. She’d testified against him, having seen him kill a man as easily as lighting a cigarette.
Forgiveness wasn’t his style. She knew why he’d come to that hotel room.
Shaun’s death had freed her from his menace. He couldn’t reach her from the grave.
But his sons were still alive.
The Magic of Wor(l)ds