Broken Dolls_Be prepared to be shocked! The all new, gripping serial killer thriller_DC Charlotte Stafford Series by Sarah Flint

Author:Sarah Flint [Flint, Sarah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781786690722
Publisher: Head of Zeus
Published: 2018-08-06T16:00:00+00:00

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Razor knew exactly what he had to do.

Turbo had to be taught a lesson that he wouldn’t forget… and he was looking forward to being the teacher. There was nothing like the feel of cold hard metal against the soft, tender skin of a throat to engender a bit of respect. Turbo would regret going behind his back. Caz, too, needed to be reminded of her place. She’d been in a strange mood and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. What the fuck were all the proclamations of love and begging him not to go? He frowned. He’d enjoyed his welcome home but who did she think she was, trying to tell him what he could or couldn’t do? For now though, she would have to wait, he had bigger fish to fry.

As he walked, his mind ran through the information on Turbo. The boy was muscling in on other dealers’ customers and not giving a shit. He was also allegedly in possession of a 9mm handgun, though nobody had actually seen it. Consequently, word on the street was that Turbo was all mouth. In their world, if you had a burner, you well and truly flaunted it. Still, the boy was obviously useful enough to have scared off a few of his adversaries. He worked from the Sackville Estate, a smaller one with little vehicular access, which suited his preference for slinking, unseen, between the walkways, away from the perimeter roads where the cops patrolled.

On nearing the estate, Razor slipped his trademark razor blades out from his wallet and repositioned the knife from his trousers to a more accessible place in his jacket pocket. It gave him an adrenalin rush just knowing his weapons were close at hand. The jumped-up kid wouldn’t know what had hit him.

He walked slowly into the estate, looking round at the dimly-lit blocks. Turbo apparently liked to deal from the first-floor stairwells; it gave him time to swallow or plug any gear should the cops be on to him.

Razor heard the sound of footsteps from nearby and moved back into the shadows to watch. A skinny young female approached a nearby block and, after glancing around, went into a doorway. Two minutes later she was back out and walking away in the direction from which she had first appeared. A deal had obviously gone down.

Razor watched the block silently and saw a slight movement on the first floor. This was it. Turbo was there. He pushed his hand into his jacket pocket and gripped the knife, positioning his finger over the catch in preparation. As he entered the communal door, he heard a slight scuffle from above and then silence. Eagerly he climbed the first set of stairs, stepped slowly out on to the landing and stopped, waiting.

After a few seconds, a figure emerged from the shadows.

‘What do you want?’ the figure said coldly.

‘You must be Turbo?’ Razor asked equally frostily.

‘Yeah I am. Who’s asking?’

The man facing him was young, only around twenty years of age, Hispanic in appearance, short in height and with shoulder-length black, wavy hair.

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