The Goldsworth Series Box Set

by Davie J Toothill

  Outside, he took a deep breath and resisted the urge to turn back, comfort Scarlett, dry her tears. He kept walking.

  * * *

  Shontelle opened her sister’s bedroom door, saw the tears, her distress, and she knew at once what had happened. She had sensed it seeing Kojo’s face as he had left the flat.

  She crossed the room and wrapped her arms around Scarlett as she sobbed. She whispered reassurances, her heart breaking for her sister, though she knew that it was for the best, and that in time, Scarlett would know that too.

  “Let it all out,” she murmured. “Don’t worry, Scarlett. I’m here for you.”

  Scarlett seemed to crumble, crying into her arms, shoulders heaving.

  Shontelle held her tight, protectively. She would never let her sister get hurt, would always keep her safe. She would never let Kojo back through that door again.

  * * *

  Aurora watched London slide past the window, her thoughts turning to the future, to the house that awaited them in Manchester. She would make it a home for her daughter, for Clint. For herself.

  She opened her handbag and pulled out the application form. Clint glanced at the paper, raised an eyebrow.

  “Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?” he asked. Angel slept on his lap, soothed from her excitement by the jostling of the train as it picked up speed. “You want to join the police?”

  Aurora tried to read his face, glanced down at the form.

  “Serena Patterson suggested it,” she admitted. “When I saw her after she gave her evidence in court. I didn’t really think much of it, but I guess the idea stuck.”

  Clint considered her a moment and smiled.

  “I think that if it’s what you want, you should do it,” he said. “I mean, you’re great with people, you understand people’s emotions. You’re smart, you’re quick. If you set your mind on it, you’ll be the best police officer they’ll ever have.”

  Aurora beamed at his words.

  “You’re sure?” she asked. “I mean, it’s a big step.”

  “Yeah, it’s a big step,” he agreed. “But just take it one little step at a time. Fill out the form, send it off. See what happens.”

  “Thanks,” Aurora said.

  She glanced out of the window, and then back at the application form. She picked up her pen and began to fill it out.

  * * *

  Clint smiled as Aurora began to fill out the application form. He knew that she would be happiest helping others, and if joining the police gave her that, he was pleased for her.

  He glanced past her, out of the window, as the outskirts of London began to fade, fields and farms replacing them. The sky was blue, the sun shining.

  It had been hard to say goodbye, but Clint knew that they were doing the right thing. Their future was not on the Goldsworth.

  He thought of Troy, locked up in prison. The fear he had felt when they had last made the journey was gone, a distant memory. He felt hopeful now. Troy was serving his time. Kojo was back at home, growing up, making his own decisions now, no longer the scared little boy he had been.

  Now he had Aurora and Angel to care for, but the thought did not scare him as it had done once. He felt hopeful now. He looked down at Angel, asleep in his arms, and smiled at his daughter. She was safe, happy, and he would make sure she always was.

  The train rumbled on, further from London and the memories that lingered there. His wounds seemed to ache less with each mile that distanced him from the Goldsworth Estate.

  Clint closed his eyes, feeling relaxed, at peace with his past, and excited for his future.

  * * *

  Kojo took the joint from Kent and put it to his lips, inhaling deeply. He needed this, the memory of Scarlett’s tears, her pleas, fresh in his mind.

  “You did the right thing,” Kent said at his side. “Ditching that cow. Still, at least you got between her legs. That’s something, man. I thought, for sure, she wouldn’t put out.”

  Kojo kept quiet, letting the weed take effect, taking another drag. He gave it back to Kent and picked up his can of beer.

  “You know, there’s a party tonight, on the estate,” Kojo said. “Maybe we should go. Get fucked up.”

  “Sure, man,” Kent agreed, blowing a cloud of smoke across his bedroom.

  “Booze, weed, girls,” Kojo said. “Exactly what I need tonight.”

  “Amen,” Kent murmured.

  Kojo downed his can and reached for another. He did not think about Scarlett. He had done the right thing, setting her free. She would find the perfect guy for her, someone kind and thoughtful and smart like her. He thought briefly of Clint, speeding away from London now. He wished his brother luck, but he did not feel sadness that he had gone. His brother was out living his life, and Kojo would do the same.

  Now Kojo had a new life, a new sense of freedom. He had a new family too, of sorts. Kent and his mates. He had text Amal about starting work for him.

  Kojo was grown up now, Clint had said so himself. He had to own his choices, his own future. Kojo cracked open another beer.

  He had already made his first decision as a grown up, he decided. He was going to make the most of his newfound freedom. No Scarlett, no Clint. No guilt and no regrets. He was going to enjoy himself.

  * * *

  Naz felt his whole body shaking as he sat across the table from the police officer, who fixed him with a steely look and folded his arms against his chest.

  “There’s no good in lying to me, lad,” the officer told him. “We know what happened. We’ve taken some statements, and we’ve got evidence that you killed Jayden Healy, so you’re just making it worse for yourself if you don’t come clean.”

  “I didn’t kill him,” Naz said, his voice cracking as he spoke. “I swear, I didn’t.”

  “Why are your fingerprints on the murder weapon?” the officer asked.

  “I touched the gun,” Naz admitted, sweat pooling under his armpits. His forehead felt slick with sweat but he daren’t wipe it off and draw attention to how nervous he was. “That’s all, I swear.”

  “You touched the gun?” the officer repeated, sceptical. “Why?”

  Naz did not know what to say and he started to panic.

  “I shot him,” he admitted. He regretted it once as the officer’s eyes gleamed with victory. Naz shook his head, his throat dry. “But I didn’t kill. Sanjay made me do it. He was the one that killed him.”

  “His fingerprints aren’t on the weapon,” the officer said. “Only yours are. Now why would that be, do you think?”

  Naz thought on it and suddenly realisation dawned on him. He had been set up. Sanjay had passed him the gun and he had held it for just a second without his gloves on. Sanjay had never trusted him completely and Naz hated himself for proving his cousin right.

  “Fuck,” he sighed, realising that he did not stand a chance.

  Sanjay had anticipated this, knowing Naz better than he seemed to know himself.

  “Your cousins have both given statements that you boasted about killing Jayden,” the officer told him. “There was an anonymous tip-off, did you know that?”

  “Really? Erm -”

  “I think that it was one of your cousins that tipped us off, knowing what you’d done,” the officer told him. Naz could have laughed at the irony, if he had not been so terrified. “I think you planted the gun in your cousin’s bag when you heard the sirens, trying to frame him.”

  Naz blinked hard, his eyes filling with tears.

  “Please,” he begged, but the officer had already made up his mind.

  “Naz Siddiqui,” he said. “I’m charging you with the murder of Jayden Healy.”

  Naz closed his eyes and prayed for help, but he knew that none would come.

  * * *

  Outside the police station, Sanjay hugged Amal and his mother close to him. His mother was sobbing with relief, and Amal looked pale but relieved to see him back out on the street.

  “I was so worried,”
his mother cried, and he held her close to him, reassuring her that he was fine and that the charges had been dropped.

  “I’m fine mum, really I am,” Sanjay insisted as she cupped his face in her hands and squeezed, as if to make sure he had not been beaten by the police. “Mum, stop that, I’m okay.”

  They walked away from the station, and Amal fell into step beside him.

  “They charged Naz with it,” Sanjay said quietly, so their mother would not hear from a few steps ahead of them.

  “You were right,” Amal said. “We couldn’t trust him after all.”

  “Well, he’s out of the picture now,” Sanjay assured him. “Now we just focus on ourselves.”

  Amal nodded, and Sanjay found himself smiling now.

  They had done it. They had taken over the estate. Corey had gone quiet after Jayden’s death, the guys they had once commanded scrabbling for a leader, and in Sanjay they had found one. Tyrese was locked up, and when he came out, he wouldn’t challenge them, Sanjay was certain of that.

  It had taken a lot of patience, but it had all paid off now.

  Sanjay ruled the Goldsworth and he could not be happier.

  As he walked down the street, Amal at his side and their mother beaming at them, none of them looked back at Naz or the police station.

  * * *

  Dante glared at Charley from the dock as the judge admitted the jury back into the courtroom. They did not look over at Dante, and he wondered if he scared them.

  His lawyer’s closing argument had been weak, and he did not doubt that they would find him guilty. He had hardly presented a good case for himself.

  The jury foreman rose when the judge asked him to.

  “Have you come to a unanimous verdict in this case?” the judge asked.

  Dante watched the man, his hands trembling slightly as he answered the judge.

  “Yes, your honour,” he said.

  “In the matter of the murder of Bolton Smith, how do you find the defendant, Dante Cortez,” the judge asked him. “Guilty or not guilty?”

  The foreman’s voice did not waver.

  “Guilty,” the reply came.

  There was a murmur from the courtroom. Dante looked over at Charley and felt his fists clench at the smile plastered across her face. Leigh-Ann and Asher beside her were beaming. A few seats away, Bolton’s mother looked weak with relief.

  Dante tried not to betray his frustration as the judge passed his sentencing.

  He did not care, he decided. His life was behind bars now, he was a big name on the block, and nothing could change that. He thought about Charley, realising that she was not yet out of his reach. He could send someone after her, he could still terrorise her from prison.

  No, he thought, as he was led from the courtroom. Thing were far from over yet.

  * * *

  Charley watched as Dante was taken from the courtroom.

  She could hardly believe it though the joy of those around her confirmed that this was not a dream, that justice truly had been served. She allowed herself a smile, relief washing over her as one after another the people closest to her hugged her close.

  “It’s over,” Leigh-Ann cheered, clapping happily. “Finally, it’s over.”

  “You don’t have to worry anymore,” Asher reassured her.

  Charley nodded. She knew that they were right, but it did not feel over.

  Bolton was still dead. Dante had still stolen one of the most precious things in her life. The trial might be over, and Dante might be in prison, but nothing would bring back the love of her life.

  She needed to take it one day at a time, she realised. She needed to grieve and let time heal her wounds.

  Even as Leigh-Ann and Asher led her from the gallery, Charley could not find it within herself to celebrate. Though she was happy that Dante would spend his life in prison, she wished that she could share her happiness with Bolton, and thanks to Dante, she never could.

  * * *

  Tyrese was stunned by the news as he looked at the officer.

  “You mean I’m getting out of here?” he asked, to make sure he had heard it right.

  “The police charged somebody else,” the officer repeated. “They’re processing you out in a couple of hours, so just hold tight and we’ll get you out of here, Banks.”

  Tyrese had started to think he would spend the rest of his life in here, and now he knew that he would be free in only a matter of hours. His heart beat fast, blood pumping new life, fresh determination into him.

  He thanked the officer for giving him the news.

  “Just keep yourself out of trouble for a few hours,” the officer warned him.

  Tyrese nodded. The officer sauntered off, shaking his head.

  He wandered back to his cell and drank in his surroundings, still struggling to believe that he would be a free man soon.

  A flash of gold caught his eye and Tyrese did a double-take.

  He watched Goldie walking down the corridor. He walked with a limp, but he looked as smug as ever. Tyrese could hardly believe it. He was like a cockroach. The whole business with Brandy’s rape, then his recovery from having his legs broken. He had messed around with Jessie, Tyrese was sure of it, and then he’d had the front, on top of it all, to kill Trent. Tyrese narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth.

  He watched Goldie clap a few lads on the back and disappear into his cell. A few moments later his cellmate left, looking put out. Tyrese smiled, the officer’s parting words all but forgotten.

  Glancing up and down the corridor, sure that he was not being watched, Tyrese went into Goldie’s cell.

  “Thought I told you to make yourself scarce,” Goldie snapped, back to the door, thinking his cellmate had returned. “I’ve got to put some cream on my bits, and unless you want to massage it in for me, I suggest you get the fuck out.”

  “Think I’ll pass on that offer,” Tyrese growled.

  Goldie span around, eyes widening, as Tyrese closed the cell door behind him.

  “What’s the matter Goldie?” Tyrese asked, enjoying the fear spreading across his face. “You don’t look too pleased to see me. And I’ve been really looking forward to seeing you.”

  * * *

  Troy had waited long enough. He had seen Dante return from court and now the time had finally come for him to confront him.

  Troy had watched him since his return, seen Dante grab his towel and toiletries from his cell, not saying a word to anyone, setting off for the showers.

  Troy watched him go, eyes narrowed. The showers would be quiet now. The perfect opportunity.

  He grabbed up his own towel, not wanting to raise any suspicions amongst the officers if he walked into the showers without one. He waited a minute and then traipsed out of his cell, following Dante.

  Nobody paid him any attention. Perfect, Troy thought. His mind was racing, his hands shaking, but it went unnoticed. Nobody knew what he was thinking, what was going through his mind right now.

  He went into the shower room. He heard running water, saw that the bathroom was alone. Just him and Dante.

  Dante shut off the water and turned, catching sight of him.

  Troy hung up his towel and nodded at him. He saw a flicker in Dante’s eyes, wondered if he knew why he was here.

  Dante pulled his towel around his waist, squaring his shoulders as if prepared for anything.

  “Well, well, Troy Banks,” Dante said, tight-lipped. “What a surprise to see you back here. You didn’t come over and say hello, so I thought you’d forgotten me.”

  “Nah mate, I’ll never forget you,” Troy said. Dante snorted. “Seeing as how you’re the reason I’m back in this hellhole.”

  Troy took a step forward. Dante did not move, regarding him, as if trying to figure out what was going on. Troy looked at him. Dante held his gaze, their eyes locked.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Troy held Dante’s eyes. He hardly dared to blink. Dante looked away first, lowering his eyes to the floor.

/>   “Why do you think it’s my fault?” he eventually asked. He began to dry himself, though Troy knew he was still alert, tense, following Troy’s movements out of the corner of his eye. Troy did not move. “You got something on your mind?”

  “I guess you could say that,” he said. “Mate.”

  He spat the word out, and Dante’s brow furrowed.

  “You were never good at lying,” Dante sniggered, trying to keep his voice casual, his gestures easy, but Troy could feel the tension. He saw a muscle twitch in Dante’s jaw. “I can see something’s bothering you.”

  “Never good at lying?” Troy asked. “Not like you, then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Come on, it’s just you and me,” Troy said, gesturing around the empty bathroom. He saw Dante’s muscles tense. Troy forced a smile. “We can talk honestly, can’t we? After all, we’re such good mates, aren’t we?”

  “Sure,” Dante said, uncertain.

  “Like we did that night, you know, when you recorded me.”

  “Right,” Dante nodded, eyes narrowing.

  “I don’t have a phone, so you don’t have to worry,” Troy said. “I’m not recording anything.”

  “I was wondering when you’d bring this up,” Dante sighed. “It was an accident, I didn’t know -”

  “Sure, sure,” Troy murmured, through gritted teeth. “You didn’t know you were recording. Because you’ve never used a phone before in your life, right? How did you know about the recording then, if you didn’t intend to make it?”

  Dante shook his head, stepping out of the shower cubicle, walking over to his bundle of clothes on one of the benches in the middle of the room.

  “I don’t have to explain myself to you,” he said.

  “No, you’re right,” Troy shrugged. “Perhaps you can explain yourself to Tyrese and see how he likes it when you tell him you’ve been stealing drugs from him this whole time.”

  He could almost see Dante’s mind whirring behind his wide eyes.

  “Let me guess, you didn’t think I’d find out?” Troy asked. He saw a flicker of panic in Dante’s eyes.

  “Troy, listen to yourself,” Dante said, shaking his head, feigning disappointment, but Troy could see through it. He wondered how it taken so long for him to see it. “I started running things in here after you got out. I thought it was what you’d want.”