Toxic Read online

  Copyright

  Published by AVON

  A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd

  1 London Bridge Street

  London SE1 9GF

  www.harpercollins.co.uk

  First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2018

  Copyright © Jacqui Rose 2018

  Cover design © Alison Groom 2018

  Cover photograph © Irina Bg / Shutterstock

  Cover photograph © Lawrence Garwood / Alamy

  Jacqui Rose asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

  Source ISBN: 9780008287283

  Ebook Edition © Jun 2018 ISBN: 9780008287290

  Version: 2018-06-21

  Dedication

  To AP and Boo – my joy, my heart, my soul’s desire, my keepers of my peace, my freedom givers, my wingless journeymen – it’s only a shame horses can’t read.

  The Devil asked me how I knew my way around the halls of hell. I told him I did not need a map for the darkness I know so well.

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Before

  Yesterday

  Today

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Chapter 61

  Chapter 62

  Chapter 63

  Chapter 64

  Chapter 65

  Chapter 66

  Chapter 67

  Chapter 68

  Chapter 69

  Chapter 70

  Chapter 71

  Chapter 72

  Chapter 73

  Chapter 74

  Chapter 75

  Chapter 76

  Two Months Later

  Acknowledgements

  If You Loved Toxic, Turn the Page for a Sneak Peek From Jacqui’s Thrilling New Book Fatal Coming Soon …

  Keep reading …

  About the Author

  Also by Jacqui Rose

  About the Publisher

  BEFORE

  She could hear them now. They weren’t far behind. Closing in and coming ever nearer, calling their names. She could almost feel their breath on her neck, their cloying touch on her skin, pulling her back. They needed to move but above the sound of the rain she could hear the barking dogs, louder and louder. They didn’t have long. She knew that. She could feel the blood trickling down her legs and panic beginning to rise as the dark set in. And the pain, the pain was getting worse. She couldn’t breathe. It was holding her. Slowing her down, making her not want to move, but she had to push through. They had to keep going. They couldn’t rest, not until they were safe. Shhh, they had to be quiet. They had to be still … The dogs, there they were again. Nearer … Nearer … But oh God, the pain. She didn’t know how long she could bare it … Maybe if they just stayed here. Maybe they’d be okay, but she was so cold, and the bleeding was getting heavier … Oh Christ, the blood. The dogs would smell the blood if she didn’t cover it up.

  Then, crawling out into the moonlight as the rain poured down, she saw them, they were coming. It was too late, they were coming …

  YESTERDAY

  ESSEX

  In a remote scrap yard, four miles outside Saffron Waldon, Johnny Dwyer bent over the perfectly cut up lines of coke. He paused, almost in reverence, looking appreciatively at the white powder before eagerly pushing the fifty-pound note up into his nostril, hungrily sampling the new batch of cocaine he’d just shipped in.

  He felt the burn at the back of his nose followed by the tingling sensation in his throat. This was the best part. The first rush which he’d spend the rest of the night trying to chase.‘Can I move now, Johnny? I’ve got cramp in me bleedin’ foot.’

  Johnny stared down at the brass in disgust. Whores, they were all the same. Moaning and doing his head in. Jesus, if he’d wanted that, he would’ve stayed at home. He didn’t know why he’d even bothered and now, now he was regretting it big time.

  ‘If you know what’s good for you, you’ll shut the fuck up and keep still.’ He bent down again, snorting another line off the hooker’s stomach whilst trying, then quickly giving up on remembering her name.

  ‘I ain’t going to lie here any longer, I’ve got to go to the bog. I’ll bleedin’ piss meself otherwise.’

  Whining and pulling a face she began to wriggle, spilling the coke down the side of her scrawny tattooed hip.

  Johnny gnawed down on his lip. That was it. The final straw. Not only did this silly cow think it was okay to waste some decent blow, but she was now beginning to spoil his high.

  Leaping towards her and pushing his hands down hard against her throat, Johnny’s eyes bulged with rage.

  ‘And I ain’t going to pay for some bleedin’ crackhead like you to have a piss in my bathroom, so if you wanna …’

  ‘Boss?’

  The door to the portacabin was flung open. Johnny scowled. ‘Fuck me, what happened to knocking? Give a man a chance to put his cock away.’

  Big Billy Baldwin, who stood no taller than five feet, grinned at Johnny. ‘Sorry boss, but he’s here. Ma told me to bring him straight to you. She said you’d know what to do. She also said “enjoy!”’

  Tucking his penis back in his trousers, Johnny wiped his nose and nodded. ‘Fine, bring him in … oh, and get her out of here.’

  Happy to oblige, Billy stepped forward, grabbing hold and dragging the naked woman
off the table.

  ‘That hurt! Get off me! Oi! Who d’ya think yer manhandling? And what about me bleedin’ money? I need me clothes! I’ve a mind to—’

  The cabin door shut, muting the rest of her words.

  Straightening himself up, Johnny rubbed his chin, feeling the coarse dark stubble, a throwback to his Romany genes. Sighing, he swept back his black hair as he leant forward on his chair, moodily spinning round the well-used cosh which sat in front of him on the desk.

  He hadn’t had the best of days; he’d heard a few things through the Essex grapevine which hadn’t made him very happy. In fact, they’d positively pissed him off.

  Ma had told him his wife, Bree, was acting suspiciously again, no doubt planning, thinking about leaving him as she so often did. But of course, that was just never going to happen. No one left him … ever. And if the stupid mare dared or thought she could just get up and go with the kids, then she really was braver than most men he knew.

  But he’d sort it. He always did when she decided to step out of line. Though it always surprised him that she still hadn’t learnt the lesson by now; she was his, and she was going nowhere. Yet even with all he’d taught her, every few months she’d get a bee in her bonnet about how she was going to leave, and every few months Ma would tell him about it. And then, well, he just sorted it the best way he knew how.

  Rolling a spliff, Johnny thought about the other piece of information he’d heard today. The information which Ron the runt – who was not only one of the biggest grasses between Essex and John o’ Groats, but also one of the biggest liars – had delighted in telling him.

  ‘It’s true Johnny, I swear it is. I swear. I wouldn’t lie to you. I was told by one of me sources.’

  Johnny had stared at him in disbelief, but even when Billy – who’d been branding one of the horses at the time – had held a red-hot, glowing horseshoe inches away from Ron’s face, the runt had sworn that his information was true. That now Reginald Reynolds, the kingpin of Essex, was dead, Vaughn Sadler and Alfie Jennings, two legendary faces of Soho, had decided to come back home. Home to Essex to set up shop and take the crown.

  And if Ron was right? Well bollocks to that. There was simply no way he was about to let that happen. No bleedin’ way at all.

  On top of all that, he was now going to have to deal with Shane, one of his employees who thought it was okay to do a moonlight fucking flit and go and work somewhere else. So, before he could relax, and get on with the rest of his night, he was going to have to teach Shane a lesson. Then hopefully, things could finally get back to normal.

  The door opened.

  ‘Hello, Shane. Glad you could make it. Come on in.’ Johnny cracked his knuckles, smiling as the tall, lanky young man was brought in by Billy.

  Rubbing a bit of coke on his gums, Johnny’s crystal-blue eyes stared coldly. ‘Have I or have I not done a lot for you?’

  Shane Hanlan mumbled, gazing down at the chipped, grey vinyl floor. ‘Yes, boss … yes.’

  Amusing himself, Johnny tapped the cosh on the palm of his hand, winking at Billy as he leaned towards a trembling, blanching Shane. ‘I can’t hear you. Speak up, son.’

  ‘Yes, boss! Yes!’

  ‘That’s better. Now I need to ask you a question … Do you think I’m stupid?’

  Shane’s head shot up, his eyes darted around the room as his words rushed out. ‘No, of course not! No way.’

  ‘No? Then why? Why after all that me and Ma have done for you, do you do this? We train you up. Give you a job. Even welcome you into our home. For what, though? So you can throw it all back in me face and go and leave me?’

  ‘I was going to come back. Straight up I was. Johnny, you got to believe me.’

  Johnny Dwyer exploded. His handsome face turning red. He opened his mouth and bellowed as the veins in the side of his head swelled and pulsated. ‘Do I look like I have mug written all over me forehead? Well, do I?’

  With his whole body shaking, Shane could just about tremble out a ‘No’.

  ‘No, that’s right. But you son, you have disloyalty written right through you, so much so it’s coming out of your fucking arse. And now you’ve given me no option. I got to teach you a lesson, and it breaks me heart to do so. But what choice did you give me, hey? You should never have tried to leave.’

  He paused for a moment before whispering into Shane’s ear. ‘I already told ya, nobody leaves Johnny.’

  Pulling back from him, Johnny Dwyer’s eyes filled with tears. He lifted the cosh in the air, staring compassionately at Shane. He smiled warmly, speaking softly.

  ‘I’m sorry, son. I really am.’

  The cosh came whistling down, cracking and splitting Shane’s nose in one blow, tearing the skin apart on his eyelids. The blood splattered and poured all over the portacabin walls and floor, and as Johnny brought the cosh down time and time again, Shane Hanlan dropped to the ground, screaming and writhing in agony whilst begging for his life.

  Ten minutes later, covered in blood, Johnny Dwyer sat on the floor exhausted, cradling Shane in his arms.

  ‘That’s it son, it’s over now. Don’t you worry about a thing. You hear me? No need to cry.’

  A rasping sound bubbled from Shane’s mouth, his face swollen into an unrecognisable pulp.

  ‘We’ll get you cleaned up and then everything can get back to normal. And I’m really glad you’re back, son. I thought it was time for my boy to come back to me. You’d been gone long enough. But next time, just remember, nobody ever leaves me … ever.’

  As Johnny bent down to kiss Shane on his forehead, a sound of screeching tyres and blaring horns came from outside the portacabin.

  Leaping up, Johnny ran out. ‘What the …’

  ‘Get down, boss! Get down!’ Billy yelled as he dived on the floor and gunfire shots came hard and fast, cracking and speeding through the air, ricocheting off oil cans and scrap metal, and bouncing off skips in the yard.

  Sprinting across in front of the portacabins, Johnny threw himself behind the pile of crashed racing cars, frantically scrambling to get to one of the numerous guns which were hidden around the yard.

  ‘Look out!’ Billy’s voice soared urgently through the air.

  Spinning around, Johnny saw the dazzling lights of a speeding red car coming towards him. Desperately, he scrabbled along the hard, gravelled ground, waiting for the impact to hit. But instead the car came to a screeching halt, inches away.

  Johnny could smell the heat from the engine. The bumper of the car almost in contact with his face. He was pinned against the wall and all he could do was watch whilst the driver of the car, dressed in a black balaclava, jumped out, rushing round to crouch down beside him.

  ‘Take this as a warning, Dwyer. Next time there won’t be another chance.’

  Reversing at speed, the driver hurled a petrol bomb towards one of the barns, sending it up into a ball of yellow and orange flames. ‘You’ve been warned, Dwyer!’

  Johnny silently watched the car drive off into the darkness. Tasting the hatred in his mouth.

  ‘Who do ya think it was, boss?’

  Johnny’s face curled up into a snarl. ‘I don’t know, Billy, but when I find out, they’re going to be dead men.’

  By the side of the old watermill on the River Bourne the red car pulled up, skidding to a halt in the darkness of the night. Pulling off his balaclava as he turned off the ignition, Alfie Jennings grinned at Vaughn. ‘Vaughnie, we’re back. We’re fucking back. Essex won’t know what’s hit them.’

  TODAY

  ESSEX

  1

  Bree Dwyer chewed nervously on her fingers. She felt sick and was dog-tired having been up most of the night listening to every sound and jumping at every car light which came onto the site.

  She glanced up at the large white, glittery-faced clock as she stood in the kitchen of her immaculate, newly decorated static mobile home which was situated just outside the village of Ashdon, close to Shadwell Wood.

&n
bsp; She shared her home with her husband and little Molly and Kieran, and on the odd, miserable occasion, her mother-in-law, who only lived next door.

  Sighing and taking a sip of orange juice out of an Arsenal mug, Bree tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry and too sticky, and her stomach kept alternating between painful cramps and butterflies.

  She wasn’t ill, she knew that. Though she wished that was all it was. No, her problem was just down to good old-fashioned nerves. Because today was the day she was supposed to be leaving her husband, Johnny, once and for all.

  A sudden wave of nausea rushed over her, forcing her to run to the bathroom and lean over the toilet bowl as the sweet sickly water rushed into her mouth. Starting to shake and praying it wasn’t the start of a panic attack, which she often suffered from. She took a deep breath, terrified at the thought of what she was about to do. A moment later, Bree Dwyer began to vomit.

  Flushing the toilet, which was entirely encrusted with Swarovski crystals, Bree rinsed out her mouth, pushing her long blonde hair behind her ears. She caught sight of her reflection in the mirror, but quickly turned away. Hating what she saw. Hating seeing the look of fear in her green eyes, reminding her of a startled rabbit.