Grin by Stuart Keane Page A

towel around her, tucked it at the side of her breasts, and walked to her desk. She booted up her laptop and sat down. Her eyes flicked to the brown box on the desk beside her and her mind wandered.
    She had time.
    A year ago, her BMW ride had taken her away from Nowheresville to a small town in Kent called Royal Tunbridge Wells. It was the first destination on her father's GPS and a stone's throw from London. Her father worked exclusively in the capital, but not for a software firm as his ruse had confirmed.
    It was a little more sinister than that.
    She'd since learned he was working for the mob.
    It had gotten her family killed. Over the past year, she'd come to forgive her father, despite his actions in getting those she loved slaughtered. After all, he’d just wanted to give them a good life. College, education, loving parents.
    Dani dropped out of college immediately following the massacre. The physical scars were too much, her mind too fragile and broken to concentrate on education. Her mutilated face was all over the news for four months following the attack. Going to college was not an option; her meeting with Ben all but confirmed that. A day later, she cut her hair, dyed it, and purchased a baseball cap. A suitable disguise. She'd also invested in some snoods, which made covering her face much easier. People didn’t seem to notice her so much after that. 
    Dani gazed at the box on the sofa, the one she'd retrieved from her father's vehicle.
    The first items in the box had been a credit card and a debit card. The credit card was set up in a fake name. She cut it up and tossed it immediately. The debit card was in Dani's name, the balance just over a million pounds. The money was dirty; there was no doubt about it. She didn’t care. Money wouldn’t bring her family back, but it would help her find those responsible for their deaths.
    The box also contained the list she'd read every morning for the past three hundred and sixty five days. It contained her parent's wedding rings – surprisingly, she'd not noticed they weren't wearing them – and a heap of documents and diaries detailing her father's illegal activities. It had been difficult reading. Her father has been a murderer, a gun for hire.
    Which explained the final two items. Two Beretta handguns – complete with clips, a box of bullets and suppressors. Dani wasn't familiar with firearms, but she knew, by UK law, that they were illegal. After doing some research, she discovered Berettas were standard police issue in other European countries, which made access to them simple – for criminals anyway. After a lengthy training course, reading up on the ammunition types, suppressor functions, and maintenance procedures, she'd adopted them as her own. She relished the day she could use them. Her eyes flicked to the list on the bedside.
    She ran the mantra through her head. Her father had been a murderer, a gun for hire.
    A murderer.
    A gun for hire.    
    Apparently, he wasn’t very good at it.
    Teddy and her mother were testament to that.
    Dani uncurled the damp towel from her hair and ran it through her damp locks. She flicked her head back and heard her soggy hair slap her bare shoulders. For a moment, she ran her fingertips through the locks, remembering when she'd cut them a year ago, remembering with no fondness the dry, rough strands that made her scalp itch. She pushed them against her face, savouring their damp feel, smelling her candy shampoo.
    She shook her head.
    No, not now. You've spent a year getting away from your past.
    Dani ran her hands through her hair, tucking it behind her ears, and sighed. She then removed the towel and dried her slick body.
    She dropped and did fifty press-ups. Then, she rolled over, onto her back, and did fifty sit-ups. Finally, she stood up and did fifty pull-ups in the doorframe, using its rim for support. Her muscles ached and burned, her fingers tingled. Dani looked down at her naked, sweat-covered body and