Flesh and Blood, Sian Rosé [most difficult books to read TXT] 📗
- Author: Sian Rosé
Book online «Flesh and Blood, Sian Rosé [most difficult books to read TXT] 📗». Author Sian Rosé
Lloyd chuckled to himself and called out to Flo, “looks like your filming skills weren’t all they cracked up to be. Even the reporters are calling it ‘odd.’”
Flo rolled her eyes and continued lightly shading in the flower with her pink crayon. “Well shit, what do you expect? The bitch got up and almost stabbed me halfway through. I had to work with what I had at the end of the day.”
“Whilst, upon first inspection, it appears that the couple died in a blaze caused by an engine fault, police are saying they are treating the incident as suspicious as the result of details unconfirmed.”
“Crap,” cursed Lloyd, dropping his spoon in the bowl.
Ten or so minutes later, the family was gathered in the middle of the RV, all of them re-watching the news report after being hastily called down by a concerned Lloyd.
They’d gotten as far away as possible from the burned remains of their prisoners, and were currently parked in a rundown, abandoned park somewhere in Ireland, a popular spot for some of the rougher families to pitch down their caravans. Whilst it was not an official camping site, the people living there were very… forceful in their ways and were rarely bothered by any kind of law enforcement. This was just how Ronnie and Minnie liked it. They’d stopped there a few times over the years and had even befriended some of the locals.
As the report came to its conclusion again, Flo grumbled and rubbed her head. “This is my fault, isn’t it?”
Ronnie touched her shoulder, “don’t be silly, love. So what? They’re suspicious about it. We’ve done nothing wrong as far as they’re concerned. We simply came across a poncy couple of influencers and purchased their motor off them. In exchange, we gave them our van, which may or may not have minimal traces of us left in it. Not our fault the stupid dickheads got blown up, is it?”
“Your father is right,” agreed Minnie, “but still, Ron, I think we ought to lay low for a bit. No more killing, just for a little while.”
“Which means we’ve got to come up with another way of grafting,” Ronnie said, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “But no one panic; the main thing is we got a place to live. Alright?”
The four children all nodded and murmured in agreement.
“So everyone, just keep your thinking caps on for the next few days. We need a scheme to get cash that doesn’t involve anything that will draw too much attention to us.”
Again, the brothers and sisters nodded solemnly, each of them already thinking about their next endeavour. However, their trains of thought were abruptly interrupted when their father suddenly stood up, his tall, lean body hovering over them like a great monument or mountain. He snaked an arm around Minnie’s slender waist and grabbed a generous portion of her curvaceous arse, causing the woman to giggle and kiss his neck.
“Now, me and your mother would like a little alone time,” he said, eyeing Zach in particular. “So you four need to fuck off out for a few hours.”
There were no arguments. The children knew well enough that if there was any disagreement, or any refusal to leave, their father would have no quarry with physically booting them out of the RV. Besides, none of them particularly relished the idea of listening to their parents fucking on every single piece of furniture in the vehicle.
So, after pulling on coats, boots, and jeans, the four of them set off out into the bright but chilly morning. Caravans and motor homes of varying sizes were scattered over the field, mostly in close proximity. In the aisles and rows between them, dribs and drabs of people walked dogs or sat on camping chairs. Some smoked, some chattered. One very muscular guy with dodgy tattoos even performed press-ups on the dry grass.
“What should we do?” Flo asked, following behind her older brothers and sister, her little legs having to move faster just to keep up. “Do you reckon there’s a duck pond?”
“Probably,” Zach said, glancing around. He’d been here plenty of times before, but only for short periods of time. The place was like a maze if you were not familiar. “Let’s try this way.”
The siblings walked, weaving in and out of the caravans, taking in the sweet chirping of birds in the distance and the fresh morning air. They continued until they reached the outskirts of the cluster of motor homes, where they found a huge tree and a group of teenagers huddled underneath it, perched on its wrinkled and brown roots. As they got closer, they were hit with a strong wave of cannabis smoke and a few sleazy wolf-whistles at Stella from some of the boys.
“Morning,” Zach smiled charmingly, lifting a hand in greeting. The young man was handsome and played the part of the boy-next-door so perfectly; it’d be impossible to suspect he’d killed before. He stopped a metre or so from the group, most of which appeared to be boys wearing tracksuits and gold chains. Instantly, he’d captured the full attention of the few girls also sat down beneath the tree, who giggled and batted their eyelashes at him. “Don’t suppose any of you know where we might find a duck pond?”
One of the boys laughed as though Zach were a simpleton. “A duck pond?”
Zach effortlessly steered Flo ahead of him and shone his dazzling grin over at the desperate-looking girls. “My little sister wants to feed the ducks,” he explained. “I’m minding her. Our parents are doing…” he thought a moment, “…laundry.”
Lloyd and Stella stifled laughter.
One of the teenagers, a boy whose face was splattered in freckles, frowned up at Zach. “Are you speaking in code or something, blud?”
Lifting an eyebrow, Zach shook his head. “Na mate…” he paused, as a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips, “why? You selling something?”
The freckled boy’s face
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