Toxic

by Jacqui Rose

  ‘Where are you going, Johnny?’

  He shouted through the wind. ‘I’m leaving, Ma. I’m out of here. I ain’t doing this anymore. I can’t do it.’

  ‘What are you talking about.’

  He spun round, staring at her in contempt. ‘I’m talking about this. Here. I should’ve left you ages ago. Me and Ryan should’ve gone, but now look what’s happened. It’s all a mess. A fucking mess and the noise in me head don’t get any quieter.’

  Ma sounded distressed. ‘You can’t leave me. What am I going to do without you? Johnny, I love you.’

  ‘I don’t care anymore.’

  Ma’s face screwed up in fury. ‘You will care, even if I have to make you! If I tell you to stay here, you’ll stay here!’

  ‘No, Ma. I ain’t Ryan, and you ain’t going to tell me what to do ever again. Now get out of me way.’

  ‘But you can’t go.’

  ‘Just watch me, Ma. Watch me go.’

  Johnny headed towards his car, throwing his bag in the back. He grabbed his coat from the hook in the corner then he turned around to get into the driver’s seat, and standing there, smiling, was Ma.

  ‘Please son, won’t you change your mind?’

  ‘Never.’

  Her faced darkened and she shoved the barrel of her gun into her son’s abdomen. ‘Johnny, when will you learn, son, that nobody leaves Ma.’

  And at that, Ma Dwyer pulled the trigger.

  Bree was traumatised and scared. She stared at Frankie, terror on her face as they stood at the end of the road. ‘Where are the kids? Are they alright?’

  ‘It’s fine, Bree. They’re in the car. They’re okay, don’t panic.’

  As Bree ran to the car, Frankie turned to Alfie who was holding his shoulder, grimacing in pain.

  ‘I don’t know if it’s the right time to tell you, but Johnny’s dead.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I was heading to where he parked his car, and saw his ma shoot him. Blew him clean away. Saved us a job anyway.’

  Alfie shook his head. ‘Jesus Christ.’

  ‘I didn’t want to sound insensitive in front of Bree, but just before Johnny and Ma got to the car, I grabbed his bag. We’ve got the diamonds.’

  Unable to muster up any sort of enthusiasm, Alfie watched Bree smile as she opened the back door of the car to greet her children. But her face instantly froze.

  ‘Molly, where’s Kieran?’

  Molly shrugged as she held onto her teddy bear.

  ‘Please sweetheart, tell Mummy where he is.’

  ‘He went back to the caravan.’

  ‘What’s the matter?’ Alfie walked up behind her.

  ‘Kieran, he’s gone back to Ma.’

  Without waiting for his reply, Bree began to run, racing down the muddy, potholed track towards the mobile home.

  Catching up with her, trying to ignore the agony in his shoulder, Alfie grabbed hold of her with his good arm. ‘Bree, hold up. Think about this. Just wait. It’s dangerous.’

  She shook her head, pulling herself free, fighting to get away from Alfie’s grip. ‘I can’t wait. I can’t!’

  She turned and began to run again, charging along the road and ignoring Alfie as he called her back.

  ‘Bree! Bree, stop!’

  Running up to the caravan, Bree banged on it hard. She yelled at the top of her voice, crying, angry, waves of emotion overwhelming her.

  ‘Open the door! Ma, open the door. Where is he? Where’s Kieran?’

  The door flung open, and there, standing in her dressing gown, was Ma. A shot gun held tightly under her arm. She stared at Bree. ‘You’ve got some fucking front coming here. You killed my boy. You’re lucky I don’t kill you.’

  Shaking, Bree stood her ground. ‘I want him. I want Kieran to come with me.’

  Ma grinned, hissing with angry laughter. ‘How dare you, after everything you’ve done. You’ve got the nerve to come here and ask for Kieran?’

  Still not backing down, Bree’s voice was firm. ‘I want him, Ma. He needs to come with me.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘I love him, Ma.’

  ‘Point is, I don’t think he loves you, and he doesn’t want to leave Ma.’

  Bree trembled. ‘Ask him then.’

  ‘Oh, I will. I will.’ Ma’s eyes narrowed. Keeping her focus on Bree, she called over her shoulder. ‘Kieran! Kieran! Come here, boy.’

  Kieran Dwyer walked down the hallway, his features darkening as he saw Bree standing by the door. Speaking softly to him, Ma pulled him gently towards her.

  ‘Now Kieran, this is important, the question I’m going to ask you. You need to tell me where you want to be. You want to be here with me? Or do you want to be with her and Molly? Tell me the truth, Ma ain’t going to be cross.’

  Bree smiled at Kieran. ‘Why don’t you come with me, sweetheart. You and me and Molly, we could go and live somewhere else. Somewhere nice.’

  ‘This is my home. I was here before you. So why don’t you leave. I don’t want you here anymore.’ He glanced at Ma and then pulled himself loose from her hold and stepping away he turned his back and said, ‘I want to be with you, Ma. No one should ever leave Ma.’

  ‘There’s your answer, Bree.’ And with that, Ma Dwyer slammed the door leaving Bree, standing frozen to the spot, pain etched on her face.

  Alfie came up to her. ‘I’ll go and get him.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It’s fine, she don’t bother me.’

  ‘I said, no.’

  Alfie looked bemused. ‘You can’t let her do this, Bree. You can’t leave him with her.’

  Ignoring Alfie once again, Bree walked away, back towards the car, tears running down her face. He moved in front of her, blocking her way. ‘What the hell are you playing at? Just take him.’

  ‘You heard him, Alfie, he don’t want to be with me.’

  ‘He’s only a kid, his mind’s a bit messed up that’s all. Just take him.’

  Bree looked at Alfie, pain and hurt pouring from her. ‘You don’t understand, do you?’

  ‘I understand that you’re leaving your boy.’

  ‘But that’s just it, Alf. That’s the point. He ain’t my boy, he ain’t my son. God, how I wish he was.’

  ‘What? I don’t understand, who are his real parents then?’

  ‘Alfie, Kieran is Ma’s son. Ma and Johnny’s biological son.’

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  Alfie, Frankie and Vaughn sat around Janine’s kitchen table along with Reenie Reynolds and two of her late husband’s henchmen. Alfie winked at Reenie, who sat dressed head to toe in black designer clothes, playing the grieving widow, though most of Essex knew she’d already set up with her toy boy. He nodded to the piles of money on the table.

  ‘It’s all there Reenie, all two million quid, in untraceable notes.’

  Reenie sniffed, her face caked with foundation and her dyed black, hairsprayed beehive not moving an inch as she shook her head. Her cockney accent was even thicker than Alfie’s. ‘It bleedin’ better be, Alf. For a moment there, I thought you were going to fuck this up. Mess it up like most things you do.’

  Alfie gave a tight smile, glancing at Lola and Janine who stood by the sink watching.

  ‘You’ve got to be joking. There was no way this was going to go wrong.’

  Janine coughed loudly, and Alfie gave her a hostile glare.

  ‘Well I’m glad, cos I like you boys. Reginald wanted to hand over the business to somebody he respected and would know how to handle things. I’m just happy that things have worked out like they have. I’m not interested in trying to keep the business running, it’s too much of a headache if you ain’t got a clue. So just show me the money.’

  Alfie grinned. ‘And that’s exactly what we’re doing, darlin’. Two million pounds of showing you.’

  ‘And you’re getting a touch at that,’ Reenie said haughtily.

  ‘I know, and we appreciate it Reen. We’re looking forward t
o getting the business back up and running. We’ve already sorted out the on-course bookies’ licences from the gambling commission, so we can set up the pitches at Newmarket and Chelmsford. Though we had to give a proper bung to those in charge to get everybody’s name on the licence, but what can you do? We could hardly go in front of local magistrates for them to assess whether we was fit and proper people to carry out the activity, could we?’

  Reenie laughed loudly, as did the others. ‘And what about the betting shops?’

  ‘They’ll take a bit longer to reopen but, Lola, Janine and me sister, Sandra, will oversee the recruiting side. Like Reginald, we’ll use the shops for legal gambling but also, we’ll be able to launder money through them, which will be sweet. And then of course, there’s the betting rings and the racetrack protection he had. Me, Frank and Vaughnie will be running that once we’ve sorted out the men we want to work for us. We don’t just want anybody, obviously.’

  Taking a bite from the egg cress sandwich that Lola had made, Reenie said, ‘Some of Reggie’s men were good, trustworthy. Apart from that runt, Eddie. But most of them had been with him for years, and they’d be happy to work for you guys, I’m sure. Why don’t we set up a meeting with them next week, and you can take it from there?’

  ‘That’s sounds like a good idea. I think this would be a good moment for us to have a toast to the future. Janine get the champagne, I’m just going to find Bree. She should be part of this too.’

  Upstairs in one of the bathrooms, Bree stared at the pregnancy test. It read positive. She closed her eyes, opening them quickly as the image of Ryan lying dead in her arms filled her head as it so often did. The past couple of months she’d struggled to cope with the guilt of what she’d done. It consumed her like a hungry wolf. If it hadn’t been for Molly, and Alfie’s kindness in letting her stay at the house, treating her so beautifully, so passionately, holding her tight in his arms at night, she didn’t know what she would’ve done. And even though it was only early days with Alfie, perhaps she would’ve been excited to be pregnant if it wasn’t for the fact that she didn’t know if it was Alfie’s or Johnny’s baby she was carrying.

  ‘Bree, you okay, darlin’? We’re just about to do a toast.’ Alfie knocked on the grand, wooden door.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a minute. Just give me a second.’

  ‘Okay.’

  As Alfie Jennings waited by the door, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out and read the text.

  Alfie, I know you’re probably angry with me, but like I said b4, I had something I needed to do, which I couldn’t tell you about. But I want to explain now. But I’m going to come and do it face to face. I’ll be home next week … And Alfie, I love you. I hope you can forgive me. Fran x

  ‘All ready. Are you okay?’ Bree spoke as she opened the bathroom door.

  ‘Yeah, you?’ Alfie replied, quickly shoving his phone back in his pocket.

  Bree nodded, not quite meeting his eye. ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Good, come on then. If we’re not careful, Janine will have drunk all the champers.’

  They smiled at each other, neither one noticing the tension that lurked behind their eyes. As Alfie followed Bree down the stairs, he knew that Franny coming home could only mean one thing – trouble. Big, big trouble.

  THE END

  Acknowledgements

  Firstly, I’d like to thank the beyond fantastic, amazeball Avon team who’ve welcomed me back with open arms and unbounding enthusiasm. I couldn’t be happier if I tried. Also, a big huge shout out of thanks to Victoria, my editor, who not only is full of genius ideas but gives me constant encouragement and inspiration. You rock. And a thank you to Sabah, who I’m so excited to be working with so we can think up ways to take over the world! And of course, there’s my wonderful agent, Darley, who just continues to be in my corner no matter what new idea I decide to come up with. A big thanks to the rest of the agency team but especially, Darley’s awesome assistant, Pippa, who puts up with my constant emails with such kindness and helpfulness. Thank you as always to my family and friends who are just incredible. And lastly to my loyal and wonderful readers who are simply the best. It’s good to be back x

  If you loved Toxic, turn the page for a sneak peek from Jacqui’s thrilling new book Fatal coming soon …

  Adesso

  Now

  Cabhan Morton, a man with trouble on his mind, stepped out from the luxury private wooden lodge into the chill of the summer evening. Shivering, he stood dressed in a white linen shirt, watching the shimmering waters of Grand Lake which nestled at the bottom of the Rocky Mountain National Park, Colorado.

  He let out a long sigh as he walked across the deserted glazed timber boardwalk against the backdrop of the snow-tipped mountains. The town of Grand Lake – a tiny community of about five hundred people – was the perfect place, away from prying eyes and ears, for the annual meet up of the Russo brothers and the extended family.

  Pulling out his phone and dialling a familiar number, Cabhan listened as Franny Doyle’s voicemail clicked in straightaway. He needed to speak to her urgently. Scrolling down his contacts, he tried another number. This time it rang twice before he heard Alfie Jennings chirpily inviting him to leave a message.

  Frustrated, Cabhan cut off the call as a burst of loud laughter made him glance around. From the shadows he watched Bobby and Salvatore Russo walking down the stairs of the luxury hideout, deep in conversation.

  He’d been here too long. When he’d needed it, leaving England to come and work for the Russo brothers had been the perfect solution to his problems and the painful memories. But now he wanted out. And the quicker the better.

  He wanted to go back home, maybe not to Ireland, but at least to England. Take his beautiful daughter, Alice Rose – the daughter he didn’t know he had until four years ago – away from this life. Because apart from Franny, who he loved like his own, and her father, Patrick, Alice with her gentleness and innocence was simply the best thing that had ever happened to him, and by far the best part of him, and he was determined to take her back home to family. To Franny. To Alfie. To everything which made him feel safe. Though trying to get the Russo brothers to let him go was another thing entirely. He knew it’d be at a price, but the problem was he wasn’t sure what that price would be.

  Salvatore’s loud, coarse New Jersey drawl, cut through the air.

  ‘Hey Cabhan, hey Cabhan, what the hell are you doing out here? We’ve got guests.’

  ‘Just making a call.’

  Shrugging, Salvatore looked at his brother, Bobby, as he continued to speak to Cabhan.

  ‘You can’t make the call inside? I thought we were all friends here? Family. What’s so goddamn secret you need to hide out here?’

  The cold stare from Salvatore made Cabhan feel uneasy. Since he’d told the brothers he’d wanted to leave, the suspicion and paranoia had set in, especially with Salvatore who ran the main branch of the family business along the East Coast.

  Cabhan replied, his soft Irish lilt coated his words, ‘No, not at all, I didn’t want to be rude. I thought I’d just check in with Franny and Alfie, see how they are. It’s been awhile since I’ve spoken to them. The time difference doesn’t help. Apologies if I was out of line.’

  Salvatore, his steroid-pumped muscular frame blocking out the light from the lodge door way, continued to stare. ‘Give me your phone.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I said, give it me.’

  Hesitantly, Cabhan – his face strained, with his black velvet skin paling slightly – walked across to where Salvatore stood, placing the phone in his outstretched hand.

  He spoke evenly. ‘Like I say, Sal, I was just calling home. See for yourself.’

  Salvatore, holding eye contact before breaking it to scroll through Cabhan’s call log, pressed last number redial. Staying silent, he put the phone to his ear, listening as the voicemail clicked in.

  ‘This is Alfie, I can’t answer right . . .’


  Salvatore’s laugh startled the old man standing by the door. Loud and menacing. He grabbed hold of Cabhan’s shoulders, shaking him hard, pressing his flushed face into Cabhan’s. His breath sweet and sickly, stinking of cigars. ‘See what you’ve done to me Cabhan, you’ve made me a bag of nerves. All this talk of you wanting to leave makes me edgy. Can’t understand what the problem is. Why the big change. Maybe I should start looking over my shoulder.’

  Cabhan, feeling the hard bone of Salvatore’s forehead pushing on the bridge of his nose, knew better than to try to pull away. ‘It’s not personal, Salvatore. You know that. I just miss home.’

  Salvatore stepped back, looking up into the night sky. ‘Not personal?

  ‘That’s right, Sal. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Giving me a job and welcoming me as part of the family, but that’s the point, I miss my family. Franny. Alfie. Like I say, it’s not personal.’

  Salvatore nodded, closing his eyes before whipping out a pistol from his pocket, banging it and pressing it hard into Cabhan’s face. ‘And neither is this.’

  Cabhan’s hands shot up in the air. ‘Sal, please.’

  ‘Get on your knees. I said get on your fucking knees unless you want me to put a hole in you now.’

  ‘Sal, please, Jesus Christ, you and me, we go back a long way. Ti rispetto, ti amo Salvatore, tu e la tua famiglia.’

  Another burst of laughter came from Salvatore. ‘You say you respect me? You love me and my family?’

  ‘I do.’

  Salvatore flicked off the safety catch of the gun. ‘Yet you want to leave and go back home. To me that doesn’t sound like a man who loves and has loyalty to his friends. And a man that doesn’t have loyalty is a dangerous enemy.’

  Bobby Russo, his temper as violent and as volatile as his brother’s, yet with the ability to recognise discretion was sometimes needed, spoke as he kept his eye on the door of the lodge as more and more guests, curious at the commotion, began to come outside.