Rijzen (The Cardigan Estate Book 27) by Emmy Ellis

Author:Emmy Ellis [Ellis, Emmy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-04-18T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

George didn’t think much of Crabby Cunt who’d opened the door, his gun pointing at them. But it wasn’t like he could do or say anything about the disrespect, was it. It was so alien being here, the lack of regard a hard pill to swallow when he was so used to people knowing who he was and doing as they were fucking told, doing what he expected. It brought home that he may well be a king in the East End, but he was a lowly subject here. It didn’t sit right, as if something inside him itched, but he’d have to get over his entitled sense of self-importance—that’s what it was, after all, and he was oddly glad he could admit it. Progress. He’d only be important here once deaths occurred, then Crabby would regret his scowl and lack of manners, his barked, “Who are you?” coming back to haunt him when the business end of his own gun was pressed to his head later on.

“George and Greg Wilkes. Hendrik is expecting us.”

Crabby whistled between his teeth, an annoying command, one that spoke of his sense of self-importance. A weird-looking middle-aged bloke appeared at the end of the hallway. Tall, average build, with the air of Princess Diana’s old butler about him, or maybe an accountant. Certainly no one to worry about visually, but Moon had already warned them that Bart, if this was who it was, had possible unknown depths, could perhaps be unpredictable.

“Bart,” the butler-man said by way of introduction. “Hendrik is through here.” He gestured behind him, a ring glinting on his thumb.

George brushed past Crabby and into the house, deliberately elbowing him in the gut. “Oh, sorry, I’m a bit of a clumsy bastard.”

Crabby scowled, wafted his gun to encourage Greg to hurry up and get inside—another bit of rudeness—then shut the door. George glanced at his brother: What an arrogant dick. Was that how George came across to people? Probably. But wasn’t it essential that he did, given his role in London? He excused his own behaviour based on that, but what excuse did Crabby have? He was just a foot soldier.

He’ll get what’s coming to him, so concentrate on the plan.

Greg skirted past and followed Bart. George took in the surroundings—stairs to the left, a door beneath them, maybe to the basement, the top a slant to accommodate the rise of the steps. A door to the right, closed. And another at the end. He tailed his twin through there to a room. A table, chairs, and men. Hendrik sitting opposite, Moon beside him. Bart now pressing his back to the wall beside the door. Greg. Three men in the corners, all with guns.

George made eye contact with Moon, who’d watched him scoping out the participants, and asked the silent question.

“It’s just us and these six gentlemen,” Moon said. “The prick driver was a naughty boy and sampled one of the women last night. He’s dead. Hendrik doesn’t fuck about. He won’t stand for nonsense.

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