Not Dead Enough

trade papers last week that she had boarded the project. She was going to be playing Maria Fitzherbert – or Mrs Fitzherbert as the woman had been known to the world – mistress of the Prince of Wales of England and secretly married to him. The marriage was never formally approved because she was a Catholic, and had the marriage been ratified, then her husband could never have become King George IV.
    It was one of the greatest love stories in the British monarchy. And in the opinion of the showbiz gossip websites, one of the greatest screen roles ever to have been offered.
    Every actress in the world, of the right age, was after it. It had Oscar potential written all over it. And Gaia was so not suitable, she would make a total screw-up. She was just a rock star, for God’s sake! She wasn’t an actress. She hadn’t been to drama school. She hadn’t struggled for years to get an agent, to get noticed by the players in this city who mattered. All she had done was sing second-rate songs, peel off her clothes, flaunt her body, and sleep with the right people. Suddenly she decides she’s an actress!
    In taking this part, she had screwed a lot of genuinely talented actresses out of one of the best roles of the past decade.
    Like Dana Lonsdale.
    And she just did not have any right to do that. Gaia didn’t need the money. She didn’t need to be any more famous than she already was. All she was doing now was feeding her greed and vanity. Taking bread out of everyone else’s mouth to do that. Someone had to stop her.
    He patted the pistol jammed in his pocket, uneasily. He’d never fired a gun in his life. The goddamn things made him nervous. But sometimes you had to do what you believed was right.
    It was his pop’s gun. He’d found it beneath the bed in the old man’s trailer, after he had died. A Glock. He didn’t even know the calibre, but had managed to identify it, from comparisons on the internet, as a .38. It had a loaded magazine of eight bullets, and on the floor beside the gun he had found a small carton containing more.
    At first, he had planned to try to sell the thing, or even just throw it away. And right now he wished he had binned it. But he couldn’t. It was there, in his home, like an ever-present reminder from his father. That the only way to stop injustices was to do something about them.
    And tonight the time had come. He was intending to stop a big injustice.
    Oh yes.

Also by Peter James
    DEAD LETTER DROP
    ATOM BOMB ANGEL
    BILLIONAIRE
    POSSESSION
    DREAMER
    SWEET HEART
    TWILIGHT
    PROPHECY
    ALCHEMIST
    HOST
    THE TRUTH
    DENIAL
    FAITH
    PERFECT PEOPLE
    Children’s Novel
    GETTING WIRED!
    The Roy Grace Series
    DEAD SIMPLE
    LOOKING GOOD DEAD
    NOT DEAD ENOUGH
    DEAD MAN’S FOOTSTEPS
    DEAD TOMORROW
    DEAD LIKE YOU
    DEAD MAN’S GRIP