Toxic: The addictive new crime thriller from the best selling author that will have you gripped in 2018. Jacqui Rose

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       7

      Surrounded by marshes and wide-open wheat fields near the grassy sea wall just outside Bradwell on the Dengie Peninsula of East Essex, Eddie Styler spat the last bit of curried chicken out of the car window, landing it at the feet of Johnny and Ma Dwyer.

      He picked out the piece of cardamom pod stuck in his back tooth as he got out of his hired Porsche Cayenne. It was important to keep up appearances. He no longer had Reginald’s men to stand behind, and word was slowly getting out that he’d lost it, that he was no longer a name to be reckoned with. But he had to put up a front. He needed to pull off this deal no matter what. And Ma and Johnny were the perfect people to do it.

      Hobbling across to the pair – the skin on the back of his feet had been rubbed off by his new Gucci loafers – Eddie looked at his watch. They were late. And late in his books equated to a lack of respect.

      Eddie stared at Ma and Johnny, his squat rounded body dwarfed by Johnny’s tall frame and Ma’s wide girth. He enjoyed seeing the unease in their eyes. The fear which for the past few years had come hand in hand with his name. If only Sandra looked at him like that, but the only thing he ever saw in her eyes was contempt.

      Pulling his thoughts away from his wife, Eddie channelled his secret humiliation and snarled at the pair, realising that neither of them knew that he no longer had any of Reginald’s men at his beck and call. ‘What the fuck time do you call this?’

      Johnny shrugged apologetically. ‘I’m sorry. I had a few domestic matters to sort out. You know how it is.’

      ‘No, I don’t, but what I do know is you’re mugging me off. And I don’t like it at all. Makes me think I can’t rely on you and that makes me very nervous.’

      Ma Dwyer piped up. She and Eddie went back a long way, and of all people he should know better than to think that. ‘Look, ain’t no one mugging anyone off. Johnny ain’t like that, you know he’s trustworthy. He’s never let you down. If you’ve got a problem, talk to me.’

      Eddie, having never liked Ma Dwyer for all the time he’d known her, nor liked the influence she had on Johnny, raised his voice. ‘When I want your fucking opinion, Ma, then shoot me, cos when things become that desperate, I know it’s over. But until that time, keep your mouth closed … The only thing I want to hear is that everything is ready. I don’t want any fuck-ups, cos if there are, I warn you Johnny, it’ll be your head along with your Ma’s which’ll be floating out to sea for the gulls to wax off.’

      Smarting slightly, Johnny nodded. ‘Everything’s in order. Ain’t nothing to worry about … but Eddie, and I don’t mean any disrespect by this, but we were wondering when we were going to get our money, or at least part of it anyway. You know it’s usually fifty per cent up front.’

      Walking back to his car and feeling the chill of the sea air, Eddie stopped. Fuck. He’d hoped he might’ve got away without them asking. People asking questions was the last thing he needed. Then, deciding the best form of defence was attack, Eddie swivelled round, pointing his chubby finger at them as he padded towards them, putting Johnny in mind of a penguin.

      ‘What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Are you calling me cheap? You saying I ain’t good for it? Don’t forget who I am. Reggie might be dead and gone, but that don’t mean anything’s changed. You disrespect me, you disrespect all of Reginald’s men. One word from me and they’ll have you for fucking breakfast.’

      Johnny put his hands up. ‘Like I say Eddie, ain’t no disrespect meant. It’s just that …’

      The sound of Eddie flicking out a retractable metal baton stopped Johnny saying another word. Even he knew when it was wise to leave it.