Kaz Phelps is on the run - from the past, from the legacy of her criminal family, from the haunting memories of her murdered lover. The police want her back in jail and her enemies want her dead. While standing by the grave of her gangster brother, Kaz realises she only has one option. To fight back. Nicci Armstrong was one of the Met's best detectives until personal tragedy forced her to quit. Now she's responsible for the security of the super-rich who use her city as a playground. She is one of the few people Kaz might trust. But Nicci's biggest mistake yet is falling in love with a man she knows is only using her. Meanwhile, as envious rivals back home plot against him, a Russian billionaire searches for a special gift to keep the Kremlin onside, a disgraced politician dreams of revenge and a Turkish drug baron plots to purge his dishonour with blood
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The Killer is murderously good||This stylish, clever crime story never lets up . . . blazingly brilliant
Sunday Mirror||Wilkins' use of pacey prose and short chapters enables the action-packed plot to fizz along and gather page-turning momentum as it hurtles towards its final denouement
The Lady||A gripping crime thriller
Candis||A pulse-racing thriller which cleverly explores wealth inequality and the world of organised crime in London, with a smart, sensitive and convincing LGBT heroine at the centre
Diva||Wilkins ratchets up the tension as the cat-and-mouse, life-and-death game hurtles towards a suitably gripping finale, leaving the door to a new outing ever so slightly but tantalisingly ajar
Lancashire Evening Post||A magnificent and utterly gripping conclusion to the trilogy. I could hardly tear myself away . . . Susan Wilkins has given us some truly memorable characters. This is a stunning finale to Kaz's journey
Northern Crime Blog||Wilkins pulls out all the stops to end this story on a high. The entire trilogy is a blistering treat for die hard crime fiction fans
He checked his watch as a plain black Mercedes panel van turned from the lane into the short gravel drive and drew up at the gate. It was right on time. Behind it came a chauffeured four-by-four with dark tinted windows. The Russian gave the curate a curt nod then stepped forward to open the rear door of the car.
Of the two passengers Kaz Phelps was the first out. She wore black jeans and a dark tailored jacket, her only concession to the formality of the occasion, and her face was inscrutable.
She was burying her little brother, her Joey, the needy, adoring boy who'd grown into a monster. That's what the press had dubbed him and it was hard to disagree. The fact he'd been trying to help her when he died, riddled with bullets on a London street, fuelled the toxic brew of guilt and anger swilling around in her head, though there was no way she'd ever show it.
PRAISE FOR THE SERIES
'A thundering new talent - read it and be gripped'
'An excellent read that is well plotted and unflinchingly told'
'Authentic, gritty and enthralling'