Refusal (The Cardigan Estate Book 3)

by Emmy Ellis

  They’d finished two cups of coffee each by the time she’d finished. She was emotionally drained and wanted to sleep, make it all go away. But it wouldn’t, so she bloody well couldn’t.

  “Fucking hell.” Greg let out a whoosh of air, his cheeks ballooning. “Those two are sick in the head.”

  She wondered whether he’d picked up on the irony.

  “We don’t do violence with women,” George added. “Goes against the grain, that does, so for that alone, they’ll be dealt with. Now then…” He parked his elbows on the table and steepled his meaty fingers. “Do you want to kill them? It affects how we plan things, see.”

  Nerves danced about inside her. “Debbie asked me the same, and the answer is still that I don’t know. I can’t get past the oaths I took, and while I asked her about killing them, which is itself going against those oaths, apart from me completely disappearing, what else can I do? I’ve thought about this for so long, and if they’re dead, I’m safe—my dad’s safe, and that’s the main thing.”

  “If you’re not fussed about leaving London, disappearing is easy. We can help with that, but as you say, they threatened you with killing your dad, so that still leaves him vulnerable. I’m surprised they haven’t gone for him already,” Greg said. “We can get a passport, birth certificate, even laying a fake trail of your new identity on the system. Could do the same for him and his missus an’ all.”

  She wasn’t going to ask how they could do that, she knew. She’d defended people who’d done similar, a pair of hackers, barely eighteen, caught for delving into places they shouldn’t. The thing was, they hadn’t been captured electronically. It had been a disgruntled customer passing over their details out of spite, walking into the police station and giving a statement.

  Could she disappear without ever seeing Dad or Shona again? Or if they had new identities, too, could she handle knowing she was the cause of them uprooting their lives because of her? What about Shona? She wouldn’t be able to practise law anymore. Lavender barely saw them as it was, meeting up with them every six months or so in random, out-of-the-way places, so if they lived far apart in new lives, it might be even less.

  Dad didn’t understand why she’d become so distant, and she’d only told him that because of an ex-client, she had to hide for a while. Shona had offered to help—she was still a solicitor—but Lavender couldn’t drag her into this. They’d accepted her decision, but not easily. How could she risk going to see them more than she did? Robins might have her parents under surveillance, although she doubted he would by now. Maybe at the beginning.

  Her mind was getting jumbled.

  “I need to be able to see my dad and stepmum without worrying. I’ve missed them, and expecting them to start again isn’t an option,” she said. “And the things I told you, the stuff Robins and Black do…”

  She thought of the homeless men and shuddered. How Robins enjoyed hurting them, taking his anger out on innocent people who’d come upon hard times, who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time, his men collecting them and taking them to his house.

  She should never have listened in on that first conversation. If she hadn’t, she’d be none the wiser about what went on in the attic. And she had no doubt more men were being treated that way right now—she’d spent the last three years trying not to think about it. What kind of person was she, to have walked away and left them to that fate?

  The kind of person who didn’t want her father killed. That was the threat: ‘If you tell anyone about this, he’s gone.’

  “Right, let’s go with killing them. We’ll get their weekly movements down to start with.” Greg took a notebook and pen from the inside pocket of his jacket. “We’ll go day by day.”

  She reeled off what she knew from the time she’d been held by Robins for a week, having to stick by his side so he could keep an eye on her, see if she was trustworthy and meant what she’d said, that she’d be his inside woman, his woman in general, to use and abuse as he saw fit. She’d phoned into work saying she was ill, desperate to show him she was on his side—even though she wasn’t—so he wouldn’t carry out his threat, hurting Dad.

  Her father had no idea that by her staying away, she was saving his life.

  She couldn’t have another parent’s death on her conscience, Mum was bad enough. This time, she’d vowed to do whatever it took to keep him safe.

  With everything scribbled into Greg’s book, Lavender made another round of coffees while The Brothers chatted quietly, poking fingers at the book while discussing certain days and times. She switched her ears off, didn’t want to hear it—it was being nosy that had got her into this situation in the first place.

  “Here, Thursday night,” George said, “they go to the casino.”

  She nodded, carrying the cups over on a tray. “Without fail, and they don’t take any other men with them either. It’s their night off.”

  “Who runs the patch while they’re flashing the cash?”

  “Nigel Chambers.”

  “Ah, he’s a mad fucker.” Greg sipped some coffee. “Cruel, too. Once, he went into a farmer’s field, rounded up all the cows using his dog, and stabbed every one of them, all because the beef he’d got from Sainsbury’s wasn’t up to scratch. Who does that?”

  Lavender recoiled, imagining what it must have been like for the farmer to find the herd on the ground, their fur stained red. “I…I have no words.”

  “Hmm. Might be worth taking him out an’ all,” George suggested. “His brand of doing things isn’t for the faint of heart, and we don’t want him on our backs afterwards if he finds out what we’ve done.”

  “Our brand of retribution isn’t nice sometimes either,” Greg said, “but we don’t go after anyone who doesn’t deserve it, and we don’t kill cows, or any other animals come to that.”

  “Only the human kind of animal.” George laughed.

  While these two said similar things to Robins and Black, they didn’t seem so…evil. There was a kind side to them, you could see the soft centres coming through every now and again, although what they were like with people they had a problem with, she’d dread to think.

  Were all patch leaders the same?

  “So, the casino.” George sighed. “Haven’t had a flutter in years.”

  “And nor will you. We’ll get them after they leave.” Greg circled ‘Thursday’ on the pad. “So, have you been there with them, during that week you mentioned you had to be with Robins all the time?”

  “Yes.”

  “What do they do, park the car there or get a taxi?”

  “A taxi. They take one home again, too.”

  George chuckled. “We have a black cab.”

  Lavender wasn’t surprised.

  “Used it recently as it happens.” He nodded. “They come in handy. Right, leave the details to us. I wouldn’t advise you to stay here while the week ticks down. If that Charles bloke found you, who’s to say they haven’t? Charles could have followed you here after you were at Debbie’s last night.”

  “He probably knows where I live already. He used the PI from my old firm to find me.”

  “All the more reason to get out then. Pack a bag. We’ll wait.”

  She stared between them. “But where will I go?”

  “Our place. We had someone staying there recently, similar sort of situation where she needed to hide. She had to lie low until we’d had a meeting with Lime, if you get what I mean.”

  “But work…”

  “We’ll drop you off and pick you up if you insist on going. Drive round for a bit afterwards in case we’re tailed, lose them.”

  “Won’t they know what’s going on if they see you two with me? Everyone knows your car.” Panic fluttered in her chest. Turning to The Brothers was tantamount to treason in Robins’ eyes.

  “Like we’re going to do it looking like this.” Greg flapped a hand at his face. “Wigs, beards, glasses. And we’ll use the cab.”

  “Ah, I see.”

>   “So go on then, sort a suitcase. You’re going on a little holiday.”

  Chapter Sixteen

  The years had passed for Aniyah in a haze of love and comfort. She’d got over the major grief of Mum’s death, although she still thought of her from time to time, mainly to do with what had gone wrong, how Nan dying had sent Mum into a spiral she couldn’t get out of. And it was a puzzle. Why had she been cruel to Aniyah after that? Shona had said she wondered if Mum resented Aniyah because she had a mother, that although Mum was that mother, she was still jealous.

  Whatever it was, the switch from kind parent to bad had seemed instant, according to Dad. He’d apologised for leaving her there when he should have insisted she went with him from the start.

  Aniyah couldn’t recall any good times with Mum. Much as she tried to grasp the faded memories in her head, they slipped away, their already indistinct forms turning to writhing black mist. She remembered the bad times, although the sting of them wasn’t so harsh now. At sixteen, she’d had eight years of happiness and security, restoring her faith in the world, and Shona had indeed taken on the role of mother. Some people didn’t even know she wasn’t her mum.

  Aniyah didn’t bother correcting them. She loved Shona, who had kept her promise of going to the shops and the café, a once-a-month event that never failed to happen. On their first trip, Shona had replaced all the clothes Aniyah didn’t get to have, the ones from Next. She had everything she needed, and all she could want, and treasured everything gifted to her. She’d even had brand-new Barbies.

  The best bit? No shouting. Dad and Shona didn’t argue, they discussed things, came to conclusions the rational way, Shona saying they shouldn’t row when Aniyah had endured so much of it at her mother’s.

  Aniyah studied, went to college, university, and Shona helped her. Aniyah wanted to be a solicitor just like her, and those ‘bad people’ Mum had mentioned were sometimes only bad because of what life had thrown at them. Most were good and needed some help against the really bad ones. The picture Mum had painted was, as always, skewed and to her advantage, to taint Aniyah’s view of the woman who’d ‘stolen’ Dad away.

  But Shona was no thief. She’d met Dad when he was well and truly split from Mum, and they’d kept it quiet for two years, then gradually allowed themselves to be seen in public when Aniyah was about eight. Then Mum had found out, started her rants, her spite, her jealousy regarding him, and the rest was history.

  Aniyah had passed all the exams she’d needed to and began work at Volton, Hemmingway, and Schuster, a young girl on the lowest ladder, eager to climb to the top, be a partner. Charles had started at the same time, so they’d become friends, joined together by newness and feeling their way in unchartered territory.

  He hadn’t asked her out for years, and when he had, she’d accepted. Meals out, going Dutch, cinema trips, drinks in the pub. They even went for walks along the river, but always, without fail, ended up at his flat for sex.

  He’d helped her with the Robins case, giving her advice, getting her through the trial with murmurs of support. And she’d won, albeit on a technicality, and then came the horror.

  Robins had told her to ditch Charles just before she’d run away. It had been difficult, lying to him, saying she didn’t feel they were going anywhere when, in fact, she’d thought they were going everywhere. Marriage, a mortgage, kids, a puppy to complete the picture. His hurt had been palpable, and he’d told her he’d wait, for however long it took. Later, she’d handed in her notice with immediate effect, citing some excuse or other to her bosses.

  She vanished, became Lavender, her many chats with Princess throughout the later years, standing in Dad’s street, giving her an idea of how things worked. Cardigan had run the corner then, and she’d been told Debbie would keep an eye on her. Lavender handed over some of her wages to Cardigan, then Debbie had offered her a place in the parlour. With Cardigan dead, Lavender got to keep all her money, just paying Debbie rent for the room.

  Things had been getting better, until the whispers. Until Charles had turned up.

  And now her life was upside down and shaken in all directions.

  Again.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The trip to The Brothers’ house took a while, and Lavender snuggled in the back seat, the warmth a comfort. They drove all over the place in case anyone followed them, but it seemed Robins hadn’t bothered stationing anyone outside her flat to keep an eye on her.

  On one hand, that was a worry. It meant they already had a plan in place, and watching her wasn’t necessary. On the other, it was to her advantage. With no one to see her leaving, no one could report back and let Robins know where she’d gone. She’d be in the wind again, providing Charles didn’t cave and tell Black where she worked.

  George took a right turn and entered a posh street, pointing out their gaff. Lavender admired the place, one of a few grand homes that must have cost a fortune. She could have afforded one just like it had she remained on her mission to become a partner in the firm. Instead, she had her little flat, and although she made good money at the parlour, it wasn’t to the extent of buying a big property.

  Maybe she’d go back to law once Robins and Black were dealt with.

  They didn’t get out of the car and enter the house until the garage doors had shut behind them. She stepped through a side door into a beautiful kitchen.

  “Sit yourself down,” George said, placing her suitcase beside the wall. “I’ll show you the pick of bedrooms in a bit. First, lunch. That’s Greg’s job.”

  Lavender sat at the island and, while Greg made sandwiches, George disappearing somewhere, she thought about her situation. On the ride here, they’d explained the security system, and she’d relaxed. During her time inside the house, she was safe. The same went for the parlour—Debbie was notorious for using the CCTV—so it was just the journey to and from that posed a problem, but she’d be with them, and they’d do everything to ensure she wasn’t harmed. One of the reasons Lavender didn’t want to stop working while all this was going on was for an alibi. If she was seen at work, people would remember. If she was seen to behave the same, no one would suspect she had anything to do with it.

  She wouldn’t be on anyone’s radar.

  “How do you play it when you kill someone?” she asked.

  Greg turned from cutting the sandwiches into triangles. “What do you mean?”

  “Do you just keep quiet, don’t let anyone know it was you?”

  “For the majority of the time, yes, but there are instances when people need to be aware it was us so they don’t try anything, too.”

  “So you use death as a form of control over others.”

  He shrugged. “All the leaders do.”

  “What about Lime and Reynolds?”

  “We kept that quiet apart from telling one other leader. It had to be known we’d fought Lime for The Cardigan Estate and won. By rights, it was his, he was next up in line to take over a vacant spot. Trouble was, he took his time about it, and we’d stepped in before he had the chance. Then we were established, and the rules state you have to fight for the position in that case. Whoever is still alive, wins.”

  “What will you do about Robins and Black—and that other man, Nigel Chambers?” She fiddled with a button on her coat.

  Greg’s eyebrows arched high. “You’re worried Robins’ other men will know it was because of you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t. We’ll set some whispers going, that they pissed off someone else. We couldn’t give a fuck who takes over his estate after him. Not interested in running two. The Cardigan Estate is enough.”

  She slumped with relief. “Good, because otherwise, I’ll still be running.”

  “It’ll all work out. And it helps me to have George, someone who knows. You don’t have to keep it such a secret then. You’ll have us and Debbie.” He plated a sandwich and brought it over to her.

  “Thanks.” She liked cheese and pickle with salad.
“I suppose it’ll make keeping a secret easier.”

  “Just out of interest, what did you help him with as his solicitor? Could we use that against him?”

  “No, he got off scot-free. Money laundering. Some Chinese men were involved. They got put away, Robins didn’t. I won’t go into it. It’ll all be mumbo-jumbo to you—the technicality, I mean.” She bit into her sandwich and chewed.

  “That’ll do nicely. Delayed retribution. People will think the Chinese did it.” He collected his plate and sat beside her. “So, you’re going to work. Why?”

  She explained, then took another chunk of food. Swallowed. “Plus, I’m safe there.”

  “Makes sense. The more normal it appears the better. And anyway, with the Chinese thing going round, Robins’ men won’t even think of you.”

  “What if they choose to keep looking for me when Robins and Black are dead? Debbie searched for who’d killed Cardigan as a form of justice for him. Won’t they do the same?”

  “You’ve got a point. Maybe we can get him to write some rules down when we’ve got him at the warehouse.”

  “Rules?”

  “You’ll see—providing you’re there for the kills, that is.”

  “I think I need to be, even if I’m not the one doing it. Just to make sure they’re really dead.” She might not believe it otherwise. But you might come out of it with a whole new set of nightmares.

  “Hmm. We need to get a plan in place for Chambers. If he doesn’t go to the casino with them on Thursday, we have to get him somehow.”

  “What about getting him first? They’ll be in the casino for hours.”

  “Know where he hangs out when he’s in charge?”

  She nodded. “At Robins’ offices—not the one in his house, the block he rents down by the big Sainsbury’s on their patch. He lords it about down there, all by himself, answering the phone and dishing out orders.”