The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  “It means Corey Healy took the bait and put a bullet in him,” Sanjay explained, folding his arms and lowering his voice, as if they might be overheard in their own house. “And now, whatever happens, we’ve got a chance to take over.”

  “Whatever happens?” Amal repeated. “What do you mean?”

  Sanjay sighed, though he did not look annoyed by the question.

  “Tyrese is going to take out one of the Healy brothers in retaliation,” he said, voice excited. “Either that or Corey’s going to get sent down. Either way, they’ll be on their knees, and that’s where we come in, full force, and take over this estate.”

  Amal was smiling now too. He understood his brother’s excitement, his eagerness. His brother had spent too long as the Banks brothers’ minion, it was his time. Their time.

  “What do we now then?” Naz asked, unconvinced.

  Sanjay considered him a moment, Amal watching his expression for a falter or a sign of uncertainty, but there was none. His brother had this under control.

  “We wait,” Sanjay said confidently. “It’s only a matter of time.”

  * * *

  The smell of frying bacon and fresh coffee drew Adrianna to the kitchen. Her brother was on the phone, fork in the other hand, eating his breakfast stood at the counter. He nodded in acknowledgment as she came in, and she poured herself a coffee and leant against the counter looking at him.

  He had no idea that she had found his gun, or at least he did not appear to. He would have hung up and confronted her the second she had appeared if he did, she decided. When he was done on the phone, he turned on the radio above the sink and looked at her.

  “Where have you been hiding the past few days?” he asked. “I’ve hardly seen you. Out partying?”

  “Something like that,” Adrianna replied.

  He had not mentioned her injuries, and she had not spoken to him about them. They were not close, did not share secrets or stories, and that was how they both liked to keep things.

  “Don’t forget the rent is due,” he told her. “I’m short, so you’ll have to sub me a few quid,”

  “I’ll try and find some,” Adrianna said. She would just ring home and ask her mum and dad for it, she decided. That’s what parents were for.

  The music on the radio stopped and the news reports came on. Adrianna froze as she listened, almost dropping her mug onto the floor.

  Trent Banks shot dead in a night club in the early hours of the morning.

  Her brother continued talking, oblivious to the shocking news that had been broadcast. Adrianna could hardly breathe, hardly process the news.

  After everything he had done, he surely deserved it, but he was dead. Gone. She made her excuses and retreated to her room, trying to get her breathing under control.

  It was just the shock of hearing it in such a way, she told herself. She did not care that he was dead, she repeated in her mind, over and over. He was a monster and he deserved it.

  Dead, though, she thought. Murdered.

  She closed her eyes, trying to forget it.

  * * *

  News of Trent Banks’ murder was travelling fast and had people talking, and that was exactly what Corey Healy liked. He had been delighted to hear Goldie confirm that Trent was dead and hearing it on the news and the police-scanner had just made his victory all the sweeter, having it confirmed repeatedly like that. It was beautiful.

  Not that justice had been served yet. He still wanted Tyrese dead, but Trent was a start, and perhaps this was better, he thought. This way, Tyrese would suffer with his grief and his guilt before his own life was ended too. Justice, Corey thought.

  He opened the door when Goldie came knocking.

  “Smiling ear-to-ear,” Goldie remarked as he stepped into the hallway of the Healy fortress. He was smiling too. “That’s what I like to see, another happy customer.”

  Corey did not chastise Goldie for his tone, because it was true. He had not stopped smiling all day. He had not forgotten what Goldie had done to Jessie, but his time would come after Tyrese was buried alongside his brother.

  He already had the cash and he gave it to Goldie, who counted it quickly, adept at this, and pocketed the wad of notes.

  “Sorted,” Goldie said. They shook hands and Goldie was gone once more.

  Business taken care of, Corey went to the lounge and saw Jayden in his armchair, glaring at him.

  “What did you do?” Jayden demanded. He didn’t shout, but then he never had to make himself heard.

  Corey knew that his brother was aware of exactly what he had done, but he did not care. Jayden would see, in time, that it was all for the best.

  “I did what had to be done,” Corey replied, still smiling, unable to help himself, even more satisfied at the look that flashed across his brother’s face at his words. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to have myself some breakfast. It’s a beautiful day.”

  Before Jayden could say anything, Corey left the room, a swing in his step.

  * * *

  Brandy stood drumming her finger anxiously on the kitchen counter as she waited for the kettle to boil. She knew that the longer Troy remained at her flat the more chance that he would be discovered, and the more chance he would discover that Frazer was her son.

  Their son.

  He still planned to go abroad, flee to Spain and live the rest of his life on the run. She thought about her own plan not so long ago to do the exact same thing. He had asked her to come with him and she was considering it. A few days ago, she would have scoffed at the thought of going anywhere with Troy, let alone spending the rest of her life on the run with him, but something had changed.

  Last night she had seen a different side to him, the part of him that he had hidden from her for years, the vulnerable Troy that she had longed for. If he had shown it to her before, when they had been together, then perhaps their lives would be very different now. There was no point in lamenting the past, but what if things would be better the second time around?

  The kettle finished boiling and she busied herself making two coffees. She jumped when footsteps sounded behind her and turned to see her mother, red-eyed and puffy-faced, her dressing gown open, her underwear sweat-stained. A few pound notes were still stuck into the folds of her bra.

  “Is one of those for me?” Deanna asked, her voice hoarse.

  “No,” Brandy snapped. She tossed the teaspoon into the sink and picked up both mugs.

  “You got someone here?” Deanna asked, eyes widening, her interest peaked. “A man?”

  “It’s none of your business.”

  “Like hell it is,” Deanna said. She made to follow Brandy out of the kitchen. “My girl, in my home. I want a peak of him, girl.”

  Brandy levelled her with an angry glare.

  “You poke your nose into my bedroom and I’ll break it,” she hissed.

  Deanna scowled at her, but retreated to the kitchen, waving off her threat and quickly losing interest. Brandy was relieved for that at least as she went into her bedroom. Troy was lounging in bed, propped up by his pillow. He smiled at her.

  Brandy felt a flutter in her stomach and realised that perhaps her feelings for him had never gone. She had convinced herself that she hated him, but perhaps it had just been her way of protecting herself, her heart.

  Maybe she did still love him, she realised, as she put down the mugs and slid into bed at his side.

  * * *

  Troy smiled as he let Brandy nestle in the crook of his arm. He had heard voices coming from the kitchen, but he trusted Brandy not to tell anyone that he was here. Her mother was probably too high to care. Brandy’s aunt and a baby were also staying, but Troy had not asked after them and Brandy had not mentioned them.

  He thought about his own family, wondering what his mother was doing now. Probably crying about Trent, he decided. He would be surprised if she had even noticed his own disappearance. She had not visited him inside, why would she be any different now he was out?
He realised he would not miss her when he had gone, would not miss any of his family.

  He looked down at Brandy, her lips thin and brow furrowed, looking as she always did when she was deep in thought. He would miss her, he realised.

  “Have you thought about what I said?” he asked, hesitating to raise the subject again. He wanted to give her time, not to rush her decision, though he knew time was running out.

  Brandy caught his eye, held his gaze for a long moment, and nodded.

  “Yeah, it’s all I’ve been thinking about,” she sighed.

  Troy did not like that sigh. It was not a good sign, he thought.

  “And?” he prompted her, when Brandy did not elaborate.

  Brandy shifted against him, putting a hand on his chest delicately.

  “I’ll come with you,” she said. Troy felt relief course through him, quickly followed by excitement. This would be a new start, a fresh beginning for them both. Brandy smiled at the look on his face and brought her lips up to his.

  Her kiss was gentle, and Troy deepened it, pulling her closer against him.

  All thoughts of his family were gone, Brandy and their future the only thing on his mind.

  * * *

  The hospital cast a long shadow across the car park as Aurora got off the bus and took a deep breath before she walked to the entrance.

  She had been exhausted when she had arrived home and held Angel close to her, falling asleep as soon as she sat down on the sofa. She had woken up to find Angel back in her cot and a blanket wrapped over her, a pillow under her head, courtesy of her mother. She had left the flat after a quick coffee and filling her mother in on Clint’s status.

  Too tired to think about anything last night, the bus ride had filled her head with the possibilities of how Clint may be when he regained consciousness. Brain damage, speech loss, physical disability. Aurora tried not to think about such things, but she could not shake her nerves as she went through the automatic doors and followed the signs to the ward he was on.

  She took a deep breath as she paused at the door to Clint’s room. A nurse walking along the corridor smiled sympathetically at her but Aurora could not return the gesture.

  Her hand was shaking as she pushed the door open.

  She froze, her lips parting but no words came out.

  Clint was propped up by pillows, his eyes brightening as she stepped into the room. His lips twitched in a smile, though his face tautened with pain at the gesture. Drips and lines went into the back of his hand and the monitors continued to beep at his bedside, but Clint was awake.

  “How are you feeling?” she asked, rushing to his side, dropping her bag into the vacant seat. She felt guilty that he must have woken up to find nobody with him. Before she realised it, she had clasped his hand in hers.

  Clint tried to shrug, though he grimaced with the effort and he quickly let out a groan of pain.

  “I’ve felt better, you know, but not bad considering,” he said, his voice light and jovial, though Aurora knew him better than that, could hear the relief, the anxiety, in his tone.

  “You scared me,” Aurora admitted, before she could help herself. “I thought -” She stopped herself, not wanting to worry him, but Clint understood.

  “I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry,” he reassured her.

  Aurora smiled appreciatively, knowing what it must be costing him to stay so brave.

  “Have you seen the surgeon?” Aurora asked him, trying to keep her voice bright, blinking hard to stop tears of relief from filling her eyes.

  “Yeah, he stopped by and filled me in,” Clint replied, granting her the subject change. “He did some tests, said that he doesn’t think there should be any lasting damage.”

  Aurora sighed with relief, a strangled sound coming from her throat. Clint laughed, wincing at the same time, and Aurora joined him, grateful for the sound of his laughter. She wondered what she would have done if he had not made it, knew that she could not bear to thing such things. She squeezed his hand in hers, hoping he understood all the emotions she felt but could not express.

  He smiled softly at her and she saw in his eyes that he did, that he felt them too, and she did not let go of his hand, holding it tightly in hers.

  * * *

  Clint clenched his jaw against the pain, unwilling to betray his pain to Aurora, not wanting her to worry about him. She was beaming, tears in her eyes, to see his recovery and he did not want to disappoint her.

  When she went to get a coffee, he finally let out a groan and pressed the button at his side for more pain relief. The surgeon had warned him that the pain would be intense for the next few days whilst his wounds recovered. The surgeries had been a success, but his injuries had been traumatic and there was nothing for it but to let his body heal now. He did not need to be told that he was lucky to be alive, that many in his position would not be.

  He forced a smile as the door opened, expecting Aurora, but it was Serena Patterson who walked through the door. She wore her hair tied back and no make-up, trainers on her feet and clasped a notepad in her hand.

  The detective smiled at him as she approached.

  “I’m glad to see you’re making a recovery,” Serena said, and he knew she was being genuine. She stopped at the foot of his bed. “I know you want to rest, but this will only take a few minutes, if you’re willing to answer a few questions.”

  The door opened again, and Aurora came in. She nodded at Serena and returned to Clint’s side, taking his hand in hers once more. Clint was touched by the gesture, though he tried not to read too much into it.

  “If you need some privacy, or you want me to come back another time -” Serena suggested, but Clint shook his head.

  “No, it’s okay, I want to help,” Clint said. “Troy did this. He stabbed me. He tried to kill me. I’m done hiding, I’m done being scared.”

  “What happened? You went to see him,” Serena said.

  Clint nodded and recounted the scene, the frantic fight, the moment he realised he had been stabbed, then for the second time, and the dawning realisation that he could die.

  Aurora was silent, tears sliding down her cheeks, as he spoke, and her grip tightened on his hand. Serena took notes, asking questions to clarify occasionally, and nodded when he had finished.

  “You’ll sign a statement for all of this?” she asked him.

  Clint nodded.

  “Whatever it takes to get Troy locked up where he belongs,” he said.

  Serena smiled, closing her notepad.

  “I won’t let him get away a second time,” she reassured him.

  * * *

  Kojo crossed the playing fields away from the Goldsworth, eyes alert for signs of trouble. He had been on high-alert since the other day and he felt both frustrated and relieved that Kent’s messaged had stopped. He was still ignoring the messages, unable to bring himself to read them, or too scared, and yet part of him mourned the loss of his best mate.

  He knew that Scarlett sensed he was going through a hard time and she had invited him over. He was excited to see her, even more excited that he was going to her flat, where they would be alone, in her bedroom, perhaps for hours. He did not expect anything to happen, but he wanted it to.

  “Oi, Kojo,” Kent’s voice called from behind him, and Kojo was pulled from his thoughts of Scarlett as he turned to see his mate running towards him, rucksack slung over his shoulder, sleeves rolled up. Kent slowed, catching his breath, as he approached. “You been avoiding me, Kojo? I haven’t heard from you.”

  “No, ‘course not,” Kojo stammered, caught off guard, knowing that Kent could see through his lies. His palms already felt sweaty. “I’ve just been busy,” he lied.

  “Doing what?” Kent asked, eyes narrowing. “You haven’t been at school.”

  “Just skiving, you know how it is,” Kojo said, shrugging, hoping he sounded convincing.

  “Could have let me know, we could’ve played footie or something,” Kent said, sounding put ou
t. He raised an eyebrow. “You aren’t answering your texts either.”

  “Sorry, I’ve been busy.”

  “With Scarlett?” Kent asked, smiling now, impressed. “Man, you’ve been getting some.”

  “It’s not like that,” Kojo said, keen to defend her honour.

  “She not putting out?” Kent shook his head, no longer impressed. “Damn, you need to find a girl who isn’t so frigid.”

  “She’s not frigid.”

  Kent eyed him suspiciously, and Kojo felt his pulse quicken under his scrutiny.

  “Come on, man, what’s really going on?” Kent asked. He hesitated, lowering his voice. “Is this about the other day?”

  “No,” Kojo said, too quickly.

  “I noticed you didn’t get involved, didn’t join in,” Kent went on, shaking his head, as if disappointed. “What was with that?”

  “I didn’t want to,” Kojo admitted. He couldn’t meet Kent’s eyes, looking at his feet instead.

  “Why not?” Kent asked, surprised. “Trent Banks initiated us, mate.”

  “He’s dead now, I heard it on the news.”

  “So what?” Kent shrugged. Kojo looked at his friend, knew that there was no remorse, no regret there. Kent shifted his weight, adjusting his rucksack. He sighed. “Look, come on, just chill out, Kojo.”

  “I am chilled out,” Kojo said, trying to sound it.

  “Come play some footie then,” Kent offered. “I’m meeting Leon and Mickey and some of the lads.”

  “The lads from the other day?” Kojo asked, doubtful.

  “Yeah, it’ll be a laugh.”

  “Sorry, I’ve got plans,” Kojo muttered, averting his eyes again.

  “Really?” Kent asked. He didn’t believe him, Kojo could tell.

  “Yeah,” Kojo said, his voice quiet. “Another time?”

  “Sure,” Kent said, eyeing him closely again. He waved him off and retreated across the playing fields, where some other lads were congregating, already in their kit. Kojo watched him go for a moment, then turned and walked away.

  He hoped that Kent was satisfied with his explanations, but he knew that he had not fooled his mate at all. He tried to push the thoughts away, not wanting to ruin his time with Scarlett by thinking about other things, but he could not help but wonder what Kent was telling the other guys right now.