Toxic: The addictive new crime thriller from the best selling author that will have you gripped in 2018
Sometimes love is toxic…Bree Dwyer is desperate to escape her husband, take the children and run. But he’s always watching. And she always gets caught. Until her first love, Alfie Jennings, returns to Essex…Gangsters Alfie and Vaughn have been out of the game for a while, but a life of crime is one you never forget.To get back on top they need serious money, because loyalty and power don’t come for free. One dangerous job and they’ll have the payoff they need. And Alfie isn’t going to let anyone get in the way, least of all a pretty face like Bree.It’s time to show Essex what they’re made of. And this time, Alfie and Vaughn aren’t backing down.Praise for Toxic‘Jacqui Rose is back and with an exciting, nailbiting book. Welcome back Jacqui.’ Netgalley Reviewer‘This book needs to come with a warning: addictive and can not put down’ Netgalley Reviewer‘A gripping thriller!! I loved it… I highly recommend this One!!’ Netgalley Reviewer‘Toxic is fast-paced and thrilling with the right amount of tension and suspense, so I was kept turning the pages keen to find out how things would finish. Well done to Jacqui, I can't wait to read more!’ Netgalley Reviewer‘The story is fast paced and full of tension with plenty of twists which has an open ending ready for the next instalment.’ Netgalley Reviewer
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Published by AVON
A Division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd
1 London Bridge Street
London SE1 9GF
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
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
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 bloodtrickling 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 …
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.
