End Result Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Other Books by MA Comley

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Note to the Reader

  Other Works

  Excerpt from Sole Intention

  Copyright Page

  END RESULT

  New York Times bestselling author

  M A Comley

  OTHER BOOKS BY

  M A COMLEY

  Cruel Justice

  Impeding Justice

  Final Justice

  Foul Justice

  Guaranteed Justice

  Ultimate Justice

  Virtual Justice

  Hostile Justice

  Torn Apart (Hero Series #1)

  Sole Intention (Intention Series #1)

  Grave Intention (Intention Series #2)

  Merry Widow (A Lorne Simpkins short story)

  It’s A Dog’s Life (A Lorne Simpkins short story)

  A Time To Heal (A Sweet Romance)

  A Time For Change (A Sweet Romance)

  High Spirits

  A Twist in The Tale

  Coming Spring/Summer 2014

  The Temptation Series (Romantic Suspense/New Adult Novellas)

  Past Temptation

  Lost Temptation

  True Temptation

  Just Temptation

  If you fancy something a little saucy why not pick up one of the short erotic stories I have written under the name of Tiffany Towers http://tiffanytowers1.blogspot.fr/

  Keep in touch with the author at:

  Facebook

  http://melcomley.blogspot.com

  http://melcomleyromances.blogspot.com

  Subscribe to newsletter

  This book is dedicated to my rock, Jean, whose love and devotion is my guiding light.

  Special thanks to my wonderful editor Stephanie. Thanks also to Joseph my superb proof reader.

  And finally, my eternal thanks, go to Karri Klawiter for the wonderful cover as always, you’re a very talented lady.

  PROLOGUE

  Disorientated, Stuart Daws left the pub and stumbled towards the small terraced house he shared with his wife, Cathy. During the course of the evening, he’d consumed a couple of pints too many and was dreading Cathy getting home from work in a few hours. He didn’t need a crystal ball to tell him the kind of reception he’d get when she saw the state of him. Cathy had no doubt already discovered the housekeeping pot empty. He cringed, imagining the screaming fit ahead of him. But what the heck? I’ve a right to drown my sorrows now and again, don’t I? Never mind that it was mostly his missus’s hard-earned money that filled the pot anyway.

  The wind picked up, and ordinarily, it wouldn’t have been fierce enough to affect him much. That night was different, though. He struggled to stand upright, and remaining on course also proved to be a daunting task—the bruises on his elbows were evidence of that. He cursed as he tripped over another crack in the pavement and added yet more bruises to his already painful arm. He nearly jumped out of his skin when an oncoming car blasted its horn, warning him to get out of its path.

  He took the shortcut that ran between several terraces whose yards backed onto each other. He used it frequently to get home from the pub, but in the dark and with no nearby streetlights to guide him, he reached out to feel his way up the alley. Stuart foolishly overlooked the bin lying in his path and cried out when his shin smashed against the metal.

  “Ssshhh, you mangy mutt. You’ll wake the neighbourhood,” he slurred at the dog growling at him from behind the six-foot brick wall to one of the gardens.

  He continued to stagger onwards, guided by the dimmest of lights from one of the houses towards the end of the alley. Concentrating hard on keeping himself upright, he neglected to hear the person sneaking up behind him. Before Stuart had a chance to react, his assailant had wrapped something around his neck, cutting off his airway.

  His ears filled with the sound of his own choking. He tried to slide his fingers under the cord eating into his flesh, but it tightened and sliced through the flesh of his fingers. Such excruciating pain. His hands were now caught, trapped under the wire, leaving him only his legs to defend himself with. He kicked out awkwardly at his attacker, but once one of his feet left the ground, he lost his balance and fell heavily against the wall.

  “Get…‌off…‌me!” The words he’d intended to shout came out a long way short of a whisper.

  With Stuart on his knees, the attacker’s job became much easier, and his hold over the drunken man intensified. Stuart felt his attacker pull the wire tighter by crossing his hands at the back of Stuart’s head, totally depriving him of oxygen. Stuart’s body gave up the will to fight off his aggressor, and he went limp. Just before he lost consciousness, he heard the attacker run off. Stay awake, Stu! Someone will find me soon enough if only I can stay awake.

  It proved to be an impossible task, and within seconds, Stuart’s eyes fluttered shut for a final time. His life ended at the tender age of twenty-seven.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Hero ran through the incident room, issued orders to his team about what he expected them to do in his absence, then bolted down the stairs to the car park.

  “Good luck, Hero.” The desk sergeant’s voice followed Hero out the front door as he bounded down the steps.

  “I’m going to need it, but not as much as Fay,” he mumbled as he pressed the button on his key fob to unlock the car. He had been expecting the call all morning, but nothing really prepared anyone for fatherhood. He toyed with the idea of placing the police light on the roof of his car and using his siren to make his trip to the hospital quicker. Then he decided he’d been in enough trouble over the years with his bosses, and he’d promised Fay he would mend his ways and settle down once the twins were born. Just as that time was arriving, he was already thinking of going against his word. He slid into the traffic at the junction and sat impatiently drumming his fingers while the vehicles moved as if they were part of a slow-motion movie.

  “Get a bloody move on, guys! My wife’s in labour, for God’s sake.”

  When he finally arrived at the hospital, he gave a tenner to the parking attendant stationed in the little hut and asked him to keep an eye on his car. In the hospital, he followed the yellow line on the hallway floor that led to the maternity unit. Hero pushed open the door and rushed up to the young nurse on duty.

  “My wife’s in labour. Fay Nelson. Where do I go?”

  She smiled. “If you’d like to come with me, sir.”

  Hero followed the nurse down another corridor to a private room. Just as the nurse opened the door, Fay screamed out in pain.

  Nervously, Hero approached the side of the bed, shrugged awkwardly at the two nurses already in the room, and gripped Fay’s hand. “I’m here, love.”

  Large beads of sweat glistened on his wife’s forehead. Hero pulled out his linen handkerchief and wiped her brow.

  “I’m glad you made it before the buggers come out,” Fay joked as a contraction took hold.

  “We can’t christen both of them by that name. What do you want to call the other one?” His attempt to alleviate her pain with humour seemed to work for the briefest of moments before yet another contraction came.

  “Okay, Mr. Nelson, we think the babies are about to make an ent
rance. Be prepared for your hand to have the life squeezed out of it,” the midwife said light-heartedly.

  Hero nodded at the midwife and held Fay’s hand between both of his. “I love you, Fay, and our troublesome twosome.”

  “It’s a good job I love you, Hero Nelson. Just to make things perfectly clear, this is never going to happen again.”

  He kissed her on the lips and swept the damp hair off her forehead. “Hey, whatever you want to do is fine by me. Is Louie with your mum?”

  “Yes. I said you’d call as soon as…‌ugh!” Fay yelled before she started pushing.

  “Okay, don’t talk. I get the gist,” he replied, wishing he could take on some of his wife’s excruciating pain. He watched in awe as his beloved wife dealt with the birth, taking all the poundings the twins were intent on dishing out. He cringed and crossed his legs the whole way through and marvelled at the pain threshold women were forced to exceed during the ordeal of childbirth.

  Fay heaved, and the first baby came into the world, crying. She glanced at him and smiled briefly before she pushed out the second twin.

  “Have you decided on names yet?” the midwife asked as she handed him a clean baby girl wrapped in a blanket.

  Hero gazed down at the fragile bundle, tears misting his eyes, rendered speechless by the lump the size of a huge boulder settling in his throat.

  As the other nurse handed the second baby to her, Fay said, “Zoe and Zara.”

  “That’s lovely. I hope the four of you will be healthy and happy together.” The midwife rubbed Hero’s arm and tucked the blanket away from the baby’s face. “She won’t break.”

  “I know. The thing is, I’ve never held a baby before,” Hero confessed. “Fay has a son—I mean, we have a son at home already, but Fay had him with another man. What I should have said is…”

  “Hero, shut up. You’re rambling. Just enjoy the moment,” Fay chided him good-naturedly.

  The midwife left the room, laughing, while the other nurse cleared away the dirty towels.

  Hero shrugged at his wife. “Sorry.”

  She leaned over to kiss him. “You’re forgiven, under the circumstances. You better go and ring Mum and your mum and dad. The nurse will stay with me for a few more minutes, won’t you?”

  Hero glanced up at the nurse, who nodded, then turned back to Fay. “Will you be all right holding both of them?”

  Fay nodded, and he handed her the daughter he was holding then kissed the three of them before leaving the room.

  In his state of elation, he walked through the hospital, sucking in gulps of fresh air before he telephoned his parents.

  “Mum, you have two new granddaughters.”

  “Oh, how wonderful. We’ll be right over. Is everything okay with Fay?”

  “Yeah, they’re all fine and beautiful, Mum.”

  “I’m so proud of you, son. Give our love to Fay, and we’ll see you soon.”

  Next on his list to ring were Fay’s mum and Louie. “Deirdre, Zoe and Zara have made an appearance, at last.”

  His announcement was greeted by a whoop of joy. “Congratulations, the pair of you. How’s Fay?”

  “Exhausted, but elated. The girls are the spitting image of her.”

  “Louie was the same when he was born. Come here, darling, Daddy wants to speak to you.”

  Louie came on the line. “Hello, Daddy.”

  “Hello, son. I’m pleased to announce that you have two new playmates.”

  “Wow, how cool. Grandma and me made ice cream. We could bring some if you like. The babies might like it.”

  Hero chuckled. “I think it might be a bit cold for their bellies, son. Maybe in a few months, eh?”

  “All right. If it lasts that long. When can I meet them?”

  “Put Grandma back on the phone, and we’ll make arrangements, okay?”

  Deirdre asked, “When can we visit?”

  “Anytime you want to. I’m going to be here the rest of the day—sod work for a change. Do you want me to send a taxi to fetch you?”

  “That’d be great. Louie would love that. Ask the driver to pick us up in half an hour. It’ll give me time to clean him up. He got carried away in the kitchen, and the ice cream went everywhere. He’s rather grubby.”

  “That sounds like Louie, all right. I’ll contact the taxi firm now. See you soon.”

  The final call Hero made was to his sister. “Cara, we’re at the hospital. Fay’s had the twins, both of them girls, as the scans predicted.”

  “Aww…‌that’s great, Hero. How are they all?”

  “Smashing. Come in later if you like. How’s the training going?” Cara had joined the Met and had been on a training course in Manchester for the last month or so.

  “It’s all right. I’m eager to get out there. Getting a little bored with the paperwork side of things.”

  Hero snorted. “Hey, get used to it, love. There’ll be a lot more of that when you join the force proper.”

  “Yeah, that’s what the instructor told us. I’ll come in after I’ve finished here. Around sixish, okay?”

  “Look forward to it, Sis. Don’t overwork those brain cells, will you?”

  “Fat chance of that happening here,” Cara grumbled.

  Hero had warned his sister that the training would be an endless source of frustration. They had joined the Territorial Army together, and Hero knew her skills would be invaluable and easily adaptable to the Manchester Police Force—if she could manage to get past the training without a hitch.

  “Come over on Saturday. There’s no TA this weekend anyway, and we’ll discuss your training then if you like?”

  “Thanks for the offer, bruv, but I think you’ll have your hands tied with the little ones. Ignore me. I’ll get past this grumpy stage, I hope. You go, get back to your family. I’ll see you later. Send my best wishes to Fay.”

  “If you’re sure, hon? See you this evening.”

  Hero hung up and walked, or rather, skipped back to the maternity unit, unaware of the huge grin he was sporting. Life was good, the best it had been in years. Outside the room, he watched Fay lovingly gaze down at the two bundles in her arms. Life doesn’t get better than this.

  Cara was the last family member to visit. Fay looked shattered despite smiling through her exhaustion as each relative turned up at the hospital to see the new arrivals. The twins had been asleep in the cots beside the bed for hours.

  At eight o’clock, Hero kissed his wife on the lips and told her good-bye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, love. Get some sleep now. You look done in.”

  Fay gave him a weak smile and snuggled down in the bed. “I’ll try. I hope you get some rest, too.”

  Cara accompanied Hero home that evening, and they were just about to tuck into the fish and chips they had picked up on the way back to the house when Hero’s phone rang.

  “Damn, it’s work. I told them not to bother me unless it was important. I better answer this.”

  Cara waved her hand as she stuffed a few chips into her mouth. “Go ahead. Don’t mind me.”

  “Hello?”

  Julie Shaw, Hero’s partner replied, “Sir, I thought I better ring you right away. We’ve got a dead body on our patch.”

  “Shit. And you’re telling me you’re not capable of handling this in my absence?”

  “I just thought you should know, sir. I’m sorry to have disturbed you.”

  “It’s all right, Julie. What’s done is done. What have we got?”

  “Found in an alley in Salford, the body of a man believed to be in his twenties.”

  “Anything else? Any witnesses? Is it a suspicious death? Give me a clue, Shaw, for goodness’s sake?” Hero looked at Cara and rolled his eyes up to the ceiling. Covering the phone, he said to his sister, “See what I have to put up with?”

  Cara sniggered and dipped a chip in her curry sauce.

  Julie blew out an exasperated breath. “No witnesses. The man had consumed a large amount of alcohol shortly before his deat
h.”

  “And you know that how?”

  “By the fumes coming from his mouth, sir. Yes, it appears to be a suspicious death because the man was garrotted.”

  “Oh, I see. You better give me the address, and I’ll take a wander out there. Are you packing up for the day?”

  Shaw read out the address. “No. I’m heading over to the scene now. I’ll meet you there if you like, sir.”

  Before he could respond, his partner hung up.

  “I better finish this and get over there,” he told his sister. Not that he had much appetite left after learning how the victim had perished.

  “Is it a murder enquiry?” Cara asked, ripping off a piece of crispy-battered cod and putting it in her mouth.

  “Looks that way. The victim was garrotted.” After finishing his meal, Hero drove to the scene. He encountered an operation that was much larger than he’d expected. Holding up his warrant card, he dipped under the crime scene tape then went in search of his partner.

  He located Julie leaning against a brick wall, wisely keeping out of the pathologist’s way. Gerrard was known to be a bit of a grouch when he first arrived at a scene.

  “Hi, do we know anything else yet?” Hero asked Julie as he came to a standstill beside her.

  She pushed her elbow against the wall to stand upright. “Not yet. I’m waiting for the pathologist to give me the all-clear to proceed.”

  “Knowing Gerrard, we could be here quite a while then.”

  No sooner had he said the words than the pathologist whistled and motioned with his head for them to join him alongside the body. Forgetting the usual pleasantries of shaking hands, the three of them surveyed the body as Gerrard ran through the victim’s injuries.

  “My guesstimate at this early stage would be that the man was attacked from behind with some kind of wire. The marks—stroke cuts—to his fingers tell me that he tried to put up a struggle. More than likely, he raised his hands and hooked them under the wire to try to prevent it tightening around his throat. Being heavily intoxicated, I doubt he had the ability to put up much of a fight to defend himself.”

  “Do you think it was a mugging? Or was the attack something more sinister?” Hero asked, tilting his head from one side to the other as he studied the corpse.