Rejects (The Cardigan Estate Book 5)

by Emmy Ellis

  Orchid stared. They were having a fucking row, even in this situation, with guns trained on them, the end of their lives imminent.

  “That wasn’t what you said at the start,” Mum mumbled. “Equal split, that’s what you told me when you asked if I was up for robbing. And while we’re on the subject of permission, what gave you the right to lust after that filthy bitch there?” She raised her chin at Orchid, sending a blaze of hate in her direction. “Don’t think I didn’t see you licking your lips at her, touching her tit, rubbing her arse. What, did you think I didn’t know that either?”

  Stunned, Orchid stared at her mother. She knew and didn’t do anything? She let that disgusting man leer at her, molest her, and never stopped him? Was she aware he came into her room and rubbed himself? The nugget Orchid had been holding on to, that tiny glimmer of hope she’d kept inside her just in case this woman might change by some miracle, broke into pieces.

  She pistol-whipped Mum’s temple, exactly where Benny had nutted her, and kept doing it, whack after whack, strange animalistic growls coming out of her, Mum’s head jolting to the side every time. The skin split, opening up in a shabby, messy gash, blood spilling, and it wasn’t enough, it wasn’t enough. The injury did nothing to obliterate the rage inside her; instead, it exacerbated it, sending it to boiling point. Mum’s chair toppled over onto its side, and she smacked onto the floor, her other temple walloping it hard. Orchid went down with her, on her knees, and continued raining blows on her, a boot joining the party, Will’s, striking Mum right in the face. Her nose caved in, her lips split, yet still Orchid carried on. Everything that woman had ever done to her flickered through her mind, urging her to destroy Mum’s features.

  “Fuck me, hold up, that’s a bit rough,” Benny shouted.

  “Shut your gob,” George said.

  Orchid ignored them, her arm aching with the effort of drawing it up then bringing it down over and over. Mum grunted, her bloodied teeth bared, the whites of her eyes stark in the tide of red covering her face. Spent, Orchid fell backwards onto her arse, breathing hard, the blood on her hand cooling.

  Will put the boot in again, crying, sobbing, saying, “I just wanted you to love me.” And he kicked her stomach, her chest, her arm.

  Tears fell down Orchid’s cheeks, for the kids they used to be, the ones who’d hoped Mum would care at some point, maybe a point just like this, when the end was near, a death-bed apology, yet still she’d withheld it, still she’d been cruel. She was laughing now, the mad witch, a bizarre gurgle-chuckle, and Orchid knew for sure the cow was mental. One last kick from Will, and Mum silenced, her eyes closed, swelling rushing in to protect them, purple-black bruising coming to the skin’s surface. A broken tooth sat in the corner of her mouth, as red as the blood, the root long and pointed, flesh clinging to its tip.

  Orchid stood, her legs shaking, and aimed the gun, but Will’s need came before hers, and she looked at him. “Do you want to do it?”

  He took the gun, blood smearing his hand, and pointed it not at their mother but at Benny. Trigger pulled, bullet unseen, whizzing through the air, it hit Benny’s brow in milliseconds and exited the back of his head. Blood, brain, and fragments of skull landed on the circular saw, a fine mist lingering, a red fog of justice. Will moved the gun and fired it at Mum’s heart, the place he’d chosen poignant, for she’d never had a heart when it came to them.

  Never.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Despite killing his mother, despite the rage he’d experienced, Will still struggled with his feelings. Right until the end, she’d been vindictive.

  He stood at the bathroom sink at the warehouse, washing his hands, Beck sitting on the closed toilet lid drying hers. He stared at the pink water going down the plughole, wondering if the blood would ever truly be gone, that saying ‘You’ve got blood on your hands’ keeping it there, even though it couldn’t be seen.

  “What had she been about to say?” he asked. “Why did she stop herself?

  Beck sighed. “It’s yet another form of control, that no matter what, we couldn’t force her to explain, and Mum would have got off on that. You know what she’s like.”

  Was like. “Hmm. Are you okay?”

  “I feel free. You?”

  “Same.” Although that was a lie. He felt free in one way yet bound in another—bound to the past, all those years of being afraid of Mum, of hating yet loving her. Maybe he ought to go and see that therapist George had mentioned earlier, open up to a stranger and hope he didn’t incite pity in her with the story of his life. He couldn’t face pity.

  He hadn’t had the stomach, nor the courage, to cut Mum and Benny up, neither had Beck, so they’d stood and watched, arm in arm. George and Greg had taken on the job, going at it with ease, and it was so weird, like they were chopping up beef joints. They’d created slices about four inches wide, rings and rings of body parts ranging from the smallest at the wrist to the largest, the torsos. So many black bags had been filled then carried out the back. Will had gone with them to watch the pieces being dropped into the river—he’d wanted to be sure they really had disappeared beneath the water. While Orchid had assured him The Brothers were on the level, he didn’t know them well enough to give them his complete trust. Anyone could say they’d dumped the bodies, then later down the line produce a slice of leg from the freezer as a form of insurance to keep them fully in check.

  Orchid pulled him out of his thoughts by handing him her towel. He took it and dried his hands while she undressed down to her knickers and bra, then put on a cheap pair of tracksuit bottoms and a T-shirt from a stack of clothing on a rack. Will dropped the towel and did the same. Greg had said he’d take their things and burn them. Weren’t the clothes the same as the bodies, though? Didn’t they pose as much of a threat, what with the bloodstains? What if Greg didn’t burn them all?

  “Come on.” Orchid opened the door.

  Will scooped up their clothes and the towel, following her into the warehouse.

  “Stay back,” George said. “The less blood you track around the better.” He took a black bag off the roll and came over, indicating for Will to drop the bundle inside.

  “Can…can we go to your place and watch you burn them?” Will asked.

  “Trust issues,” George said. “Can’t say I bloody blame you. Yep, we can do that if it puts your mind at rest, but there’s no need.”

  Will thought about the furnace in that old house Benny had bought, their clothes stuffed inside, flames eating them up. This wasn’t any different to then, especially with the change of clothing. Did all gangs operate this way? Was there some unwritten code they all followed, the same patterns of behaviour adhered to?

  “What about this mess?” Will indicated the blood on the floor.

  “Cleaners come. A dependable crew. Don’t tell me you want to stay here while they mop up an’ all.” George frowned. “Honestly, it’s in our best interest to have this place scoured, steam-cleaned. We own the fucking thing, so any DNA left behind could get us banged up.”

  “Stop it, Will.” Orchid put her hand on his arm. “Honestly, it’ll be fine. George and Greg won’t let us get in the shit. We don’t need to go to theirs and watch the clothes burn, okay?”

  She was the only person he had faith in, and going by the pleading in her eyes, the sincerity, he finally admitted he didn’t need to worry—or he’d try not to. The problem was, being brought up by a liar, someone who went back on their word, someone he’d believed in time and again only for her to let him down, it wasn’t surprising he fretted about this.

  The journey to the flats was a silent one, the twins in the front, Will wedged in the back between Beck and Martin, who stared out of the window, maybe slaying some of his own demons. He’d left the warehouse before the killing started, which was telling—he obviously didn’t feel the need to watch violence for the sake of it. Watch murder. Will bet Martin had a story to tell, and maybe one day, if they became good friends, he would. It’d be nice to h
ave someone outside of family to discuss shit with.

  Once they arrived in Orchid’s street, George did the usual check, paying particular attention to the creepy house. Will glanced across at it, but all the windows were in darkness. Mind you, the photographer could still take pictures, still stare down at them, thinking they were odd for being out at this time.

  Greg stayed in the car while George escorted them inside. They made it into Martin’s flat hopefully unseen, and while Martin stuck the kettle on, George gave them a bit of advice.

  “Whatever you do, don’t blame yourselves for that woman’s thoughts and actions. Some people are fucking mental, know what I mean? Like they don’t function the same, for whatever reason, but their excuses for it don’t justify what they do—you were children and deserved better. Now she’s gone, now he’s gone, and there’s just two more to go. All risks will be eliminated soon, and you can go on to live the life you never thought you’d get.”

  George’s eyes glistened, and Will reckoned he had a story to tell, too, although he didn’t think George would ever give it up, not when he had a twin, an extension of himself to confide in.

  “Thanks for everything tonight,” Will managed, a lump in his throat. “We only ever had each other, so to have someone else looking out for us…”

  “It’s what we do, what we’re paid to do, and also because we like helping. All right, it gets on my tits every so often, other people’s bollocks, but we wouldn’t not lend a hand.” George smiled. “Get hold of Len and Trev and let me know the outcome of the convo. I need to go. Greg will be getting antsy about burning the clothes.”

  He walked out, and Will moved to the window. He stared down, George appearing a few moments later, striding across the street and getting into the car. He drove away, him and his brother saviours to so many, men Will would be forever grateful to. But it wasn’t over yet. There was still Len and Trev to deal with.

  “How are you feeling now?” Orchid asked.

  “All right.”

  “I wonder how Len’s going to react.”

  A chill sped over Will’s back. “He’ll come down right away, I reckon. The problem we have with him is he’s a bull in a fucking china shop, isn’t he. He’ll turn up, expecting me to take him to The Brothers right off the bat—he won’t want to stick to the plans George and Greg have made, not like Mum and Benny.”

  “Hmm. You’ll have to do what George said and say the same sort of shit you did before, that you know of a meeting the twins are having. You’ve got two options, remember. A meeting in the warehouse at nine tomorrow night if Len doesn’t come down immediately, or one at lunchtime in this flat if he does.”

  “It’ll be the lunchtime one, I guarantee it. And it’s dodgy. Broad daylight, Beck. Getting them to come here… People might see them.”

  “So what? They’re just blokes coming to flats—they could be visiting anyone. Why would people take notice of them? They won’t be seen leaving because that’ll be done later, when it’s dark. Stop worrying about it and get the messages over with.”

  Martin came in, coffees on a tray, and set it on the table. “She’s right. I’ve learnt with The Brothers to let them call the shots. If shit goes wrong, they fix it along the way. No one ever finds out what they did because everyone they help, well, they’ve got something on them. Take me for example. They know I was involved in something at the warehouse—I witnessed it, but that’s enough. I don’t want anyone other than those who were involved to find out about it, and the twins know that. They’ve got something on you, what you did tonight—I assume you did something, else you wouldn’t be in those clothes—and you’ve got something on them. Neither of you will grass up the other.”

  “Okay, I get it.” Will sank onto the sofa, all the worry finally going out of him. He was tired and couldn’t be arsed to think about the what-ifs regarding Mum and Benny anymore. What would be would be, that was what people said, wasn’t it, and maybe there was truth to that, sense in going with the flow, allowing someone else to fix your crap for you. He took his phone out. “Come on, sit by me so you can see what’s said.”

  He brought up a chat box in WhatsApp and added Len and Trev.

  Will: I don’t know if Benny and Mum told you about me coming to London to find Rebecca, but I did. Anyway, long story short, Mum and Benny got the train and met me. I’d heard of this meeting Beck was having with men who’d killed Anthony. Did you know about that? The thing is, it went wrong. Mum and Benny got beaten up and taken somewhere, and Beck ran off. I need your help, can’t do this by myself. I heard the blokes telling Beck to meet them again—tomorrow, it is. Can you come?

  “Nice lie there,” Martin said. “If you’d told them they’d been murdered, you risk them telling the police.”

  “I said what George told me to. And they wouldn’t tell the police anyway, they’ll want to sort this themselves.” Will stared at the screen.

  A reply popped up.

  Trev: What the fuck? [angry emoji] How come we’re only just hearing about this? [middle finger emoji]

  Will: Benny told me to keep it to myself.

  Trev: FFS! And Anthony’s dead? How do you fucking know?

  Will: Overheard a convo in the pub. He came down to look for Beck—Benny knew and didn’t tell us, made out he’d gone missing, if you remember. She’s in with this right mad crew. Like I said, I can’t handle it by myself.

  Orchid rubbed her eyes. “He’ll wake Len up in a minute, you watch.”

  “I thought the same.” Will imagined their brothers’ bedroom, the single beds, how Trev would only have to reach across with his foot and whack Len’s leg. Or had one of them nabbed Will’s room by now? That wouldn’t surprise him.

  Len: Jesus Christ. We’re on our way. Where are you?

  “Shit, I said he’d do this.” Will sighed.

  “Stall him,” Martin advised. “And we’ll have to go with the lunchtime plan. Bollocks.”

  Will: I’m holed up in some dive. Best we meet there, then we can go to the place Beck’s meeting the men. It’s at lunchtime, at one o’clock. Will you get the train down like Mum and Benny?

  Len: Yeah. Trev’s just looking up the times now. Who took Mum and Benny?

  Will: The blokes. Bundled them in a van.

  Len: Fuck me. Right. We’ll bring a piece each.

  Will glanced at Orchid. “Of course they’ll carry guns.”

  She shrugged. “George and Greg dealt with the same issue with Mum and Benny. So long as they know, it’ll be fine.”

  “True.”

  Trev: Okay, is Beck likely to kick up a fuss if we’re taking her back to Birmingham? Do we need to hire a car in London rather than take the train back? She could start screaming or anything—not ideal on public transport. If she’s stayed away this long, it’s unlikely she’ll want to come home.

  “Benny would go ape if he knew they were hiring a car,” Will said. “Makes me wonder whether Trev’s sick of obeying him, too.”

  “I doubt it,” Orchid said, “he’s just thinking on his feet. Put him off doing it somehow. I hate to admit it, but Benny would be right.”

  “Okay.”

  Will: Yeah, but hold off on that until we have her. After the snatch, we can keep her in this dive while one of you hires a car, then we can wait until dark to put her in it and drive home. There’s this fella who lives here, does drugs. He’ll have something to knock her out. He keeps shit hidden in the freezer.

  Len: How the hell did you meet up with someone like that?

  Orchid snorted. “Someone like that. Fucking hell, he’s ‘someone like that’.”

  Will: He’s one of the blokes I overheard in the pub. I made out I needed digs, then bought some gear off him to make me seem genuine, and he offered me his room. He’s gone off for a few days to see his old dear, so I have the flat to myself.

  The problem with lying was, he could be getting himself into a hole here. The more he elaborated, the more he’d sound like he was bullshitting.


  Trev: London’s weird. Who just lets someone into their place?

  Will: He’s a strange one but decent enough. Anyway, I need to get some sleep. Catch you tomorrow. And thanks for helping me out.

  Len: Don’t worry about a thing.

  Will dropped the phone onto his lap, glad that was over, but he wasn’t glad about the lunchtime issue. It would be so much easier to meet at the warehouse instead of this flat, but at least they could keep their brothers locked up here until dark, then go to the warehouse. That was something, he supposed, and like Orchid had said, The Brothers would deal with it.

  Chapter Twenty

  Rebecca hadn’t left on her sixteenth birthday, nor her eighteenth, nor any of the years after that. She was still there, in that bloody house, doing those bloody jobs. Tonight was a club, risky in her opinion, but Benny wouldn’t listen to any of them saying they shouldn’t go in when people were still there. He had a mate on hand to let them in through a fire exit, and upstairs was where they needed to be, where the owner also loaned cash, sold drugs, and ran a private card game every night.

  Lots of money to be had from different ventures, all under one roof, and the lure of that was too strong for Benny to ignore. Len had been going there, seeing how things worked, and he was on Benny’s side—what a surprise—saying it was easily done, despite the risk of security guards coming and people in the card game venturing out to see what was going on.

  “The fact that people are still there is a good thing,” Benny said from the front of the usual stolen van. This one was small, black, no bench seats in the back, just a load of gear the electrician who owned it used for work, so only Mum and Benny sat in comfort in the front. “No one’s going to hear any guns go off, what with the loud music, although we shouldn’t go in there expecting to use them.”

  No one answered him.

  He continued talking and driving. One day, he’d get pulled over for using a nicked vehicle—he was a dick and didn’t change the plates—and as was always the way, she wished he did so they’d all get caught. She’d rather go to prison than remain in this gang indefinitely, because her courage to leave had deserted her, so someone taking it out of her hands would be a relief.