The Cost of Us (eBook)

Gaz Sellers (Autor)

eBook Download: EPUB

2025 | 1. Auflage
500 Seiten
Publishdrive (Verlag)
978-0-00-102679-7 (ISBN)

Infos

In a world where loyalty is currency and power is survival, Gaz James is building an empire that commands fear and respect. But beneath the surface of his ruthless control lies a complicated past-and a woman who challenges everything he thought he knew.
Nicole James, brilliant and fiercely determined, runs a sprawling money-laundering operation tied to dangerous cartels. When their worlds collide, alliances form, and cracks begin to show.
As family secrets unravel and enemies close in-from vengeful rivals to shadowy forces-the James family must fight to hold on to everything they've built. But the price of loyalty could cost them more than they ever imagined.
Dark, gripping, and deeply personal, The Cost of Us is a story of love, betrayal, and the brutal cost of power.

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Prologue

The day was bright and sunny, with a cool breeze that only meant one thing summer was gone, and the school year had returned. Barrow Hill Primary stood solid in the background, its old steeple rising above the yard like a watchtower. With its high fences and locked gates, it looked more like a prison than a place of learning. Teachers stood at the entrances like guards, ready to begin the long year of taming disobedient children and dealing with ungrateful parents.

Gaz stood waiting, blond hair shining in the sun, blue eyes sharp and clear. Even at eight years old, he carried presence tall for his age, broad, self-assured. His black school shoes were spotless, trousers neatly pressed, and a sharp blue jumper pulled over his frame. No coat yet not this early in autumn. His schoolbag hung loose off one shoulder, weighed down with sandwiches and books. He tugged at his mum’s jacket.

“I want to go in now. Come on.”

Just a few steps behind, waiting in the line to pass through the tall black gate, stood another child. She didn’t share Gaz’s eagerness. It was her first day at the school. She didn’t know anyone, and more than nervous she was scared.

Her long red hair, unbrushed, hung to her shoulders. Her green eyes were glazed with dread. Her school shoes were so scuffed the white had started to show through. Her coat, jumper, and skirt had all seen better days even though they were meant to be new. She looked like someone who hadn’t been prepared for this not by choice, but by circumstance.

Gaz turned and noticed the fear in her face. Without a word, he let go of his mum’s hand and crossed the short space between them.

“I’m Gaz. What’s your name?”

“I’m Sarah,” she said, barely above a whisper.

In the distance, the school bell rang, loud and final.

Gaz gave her coat a gentle tug. “Come on. I’ll help you.”

There was care in his voice, soft and simple.

He turned back toward his mum, who was already deep in chat with the other mums. “Bye, Mum! Don’t forget my sweets!”

And just like that, the two of them disappeared through the gates together.

At lunchtime, all Gaz wanted to do was play football nothing more, nothing less. Eating quickly was part of the routine: the faster he ate, the faster he could get back on the field. He lifted his head from his Chesterfield FC lunchbox to take a long sip of apple and blackcurrant juice.

That’s when he saw her.

Sarah. Sitting alone at the far end of a wooden bench, staring into her empty lunchbox. One crisp packet sat in front of her already devoured. It hadn’t come close to filling her.

Gaz didn’t hesitate. He walked over, took one of his sandwiches, and dropped it gently into her lunchbox.

“There you go. Mum always puts too much in. It’s cheese and ham,” he said, then ran off without waiting for a thank you already calling for the ball.

Sarah stared at the sandwich. She peeled back the cling film slowly, breathing in the smell of the bread, cheese, and ham. She took a big bite chewing slowly, savouring every mouthful like it was the best thing she’d ever tasted.

Through the window, she saw Gaz outside, kicking a football like a boy possessed.

And for the first time that day, Sarah didn’t feel completely alone.

Gaz would help her.

The phone buzzed quietly beneath Sarah’s pillow. Her head was pressed into the soft fabric as the morning sun pushed through the curtains, throwing quiet rays of light into the still house.

Lifting her head, she grabbed her phone.

Gaz: “Rise and shine. Kick-offs at 11.”

Sarah: “Really? It’s only the 100th time of telling me.”

Sarah: “Oh, good morning.”

Gaz: “See you at the game. Oh yeah dinner at mine after?”

Sarah: “Definitely. Best meal of the week.”

She smiled, rolling onto her back. Stretching in front of the mirror, she paused for the first time, really seeing her changing body. Curves where there hadn’t been curves. A heavier chest. Her figure stuck in limbo between girl and woman.

Shaking the thought away, she showered quickly, then dressed in tight black jeans, a loose t-shirt, and her favourite blue hoodie. Phone, keys, out the door.

The 20-minute walk to the pitch was cold but clear. Ahead of her, a group of girls were already heading the same way dressed more for a night out than for watching local football. Mini skirts, lip gloss, laughter that felt rehearsed.

Sarah looked down at her hoodie, suddenly unsure. She wasn’t one for boys’ attention. Not like them.

Well… except one.

She arrived at the pitch two minutes late and she knew she was in trouble. The sun was out, but it was bloody freezing.

Her eyes found him instantly.

Gaz, fifteen years old, already more man than boy. Captain’s armband tight on his sleeve like armour. She watched him every match. Never missed.

Every time she saw him now, her heart skipped. Butterflies, every time.

The game was fast and muddy. His team went one-nil up and she clapped, watching him get swamped by high fives and back slaps.

She looked left.

The girls were watching too.

Her stomach dropped. Gaz could have any of them. Why would he choose her?

That thought stung enough to bring a quiet tear to her eye.

The half-time whistle blew. As the boys jogged off the pitch, Gaz looked straight at her. He was sweaty, focused, breathing hard. He jogged over, tossed his coat to her without pause.

“You must be freezing.”

She caught it. “Well spotted, genius,” she said, grinning.

He smirked and ran off toward the changing room. She pulled the coat tight, breathing in the scent of Joop aftershave. His scent. She didn’t care how cold it was anymore.

Final whistle. One-nil win. Phil Jameson had scored.

Gaz reappeared ten minutes later trainers on now, hoodie over his shirt. He walked with that quiet confidence he always had.

This time, he didn’t speak. He just reached her, leaned in… and kissed her.

Long. Slow. Deliberate.

The girls were still watching, but Sarah didn’t care. This was hers. And she was taking it. He pulled back gently, cupped her cheeks. “It’s always been you, Red.” Then he laced his fingers through hers and walked away, hand in hand.

At eighteen, everything felt like it was finally coming together.

Gaz was working for Micky Bannon, a local businessman with a serious reputation and fingers in a lot of pies. Tall, well-built, with short brown hair just starting to grey at the sides, Micky ran ZeeZee Bar, a couple of betting shops, and a few less salubrious ventures on the side. He had Gaz’s full respect and in return, Gaz was earning well.

Sarah was in college studying business and maths. Ever since the kiss on the football pitch, Gaz was hers and she was his. Emotionally, physically, completely.

The night was freezing as Sarah waited under the college bus shelter, rain falling steadily around her. She regretted choosing a skirt instead of jeans.

Her phone buzzed.

Gaz: “5 mins away.”

Sarah: “Is that a male or female 5 mins lol”

Gaz: “Knobhead lol”

As always, her heart skipped when she saw his headlights. Her smile was wide, unstoppable.

He pulled up, window already down.

“How much, love?”

“You cheeky bastard,” she laughed.

She climbed into the passenger seat, turning the heater up to full blast and slipping her coat off. Gaz rolled his eyes, smirking. He pulled away from the curb, working up through the gears, one hand on the wheel, the other trailing lazily to rest on her inner thigh.

She never got bored of his touch strong, warm, effortless.

“Chinese and Netflix?” she asked.

“That’s a plan right there, Red.”

Then he saw him.

Across the road, walking past the Chinese takeaway by the churchyard. Gaz’s jaw tightened. His expression turned to stone.

“You motherfucker,” he muttered.

Sarah flinched. He’d never even raised his voice around her let alone sounded like this. He pulled the car hard to the side, skidding slightly on the wet road.

“Red, do not move from here,” he said. His voice was serious, calm, but firm. Not aggressive commanding. Her heart thudded. Her stomach twisted. Something was wrong.

Gaz got out in a rush. He opened the boot, reached in, and pulled out a baseball bat wrapped in barbed wire.

Sarah’s jaw dropped.

He walked right past her window without a glance. Rain fell harder. Her breath fogged the glass. Gaz caught up to the man near the takeaway, spun him around, and shoved the bat’s handle up under his chin.

“Micky is out of fucking patience.”

The man a pale, stocky figure with dead eyes froze. In any other situation, he’d be intimidating. But Gaz wasn’t most men. And this wasn’t casual.

“I’ll pay; I’ll pay!” the man stammered.

“Three days. Five grand.” Gaz barked.

He took two steps away then stopped, half-turned, and swung.

The bat cracked across the man’s neck and jaw. The barbed wire tore skin. Blood poured, thick and fast, instantly washed into the gutter by the rain.

The man crumpled.

Sarah stood outside the car now. She’d seen everything.

Her man her protector, her Gaz leaving another human being bleeding out on the ground.

She...

Produkt-Details

• Erscheint lt. Verlag: 27.8.2025
• Sprache: englisch
• Themenwelt: Literatur ► Krimi / Thriller / Horror
• ISBN-10: 0-00-102679-8 / 0001026798
• ISBN-13: 978-0-00-102679-7 / 9780001026797