Page 8 of Revenge

“You’ve got to befuckingkidding?”

Whoever coined the phrase,"Revenge is a dish best served cold,"should be strung up by the nuts.

Ishouldhave taken Ava when I’d had the chance, but no. I had been advised not to be too hasty and I’d given her space; time to reflect upon the various ramifications of her actions.

More. Fool. Me.

The fact that one of my men had let her get away,againwas now as unpalatable as dog shit—almost to the point where I felt like I waschokingon it.

“Sorry, boss, the bitch is a menace,” Hamish Doyle explained sheepishly. You would have thought he’d been in the ring with Mike Tyson from the bruising on his face; themenace,as he’d called herwas my stepsister, Ava.

Ava Marie Cawthorne, the daughter of my father’s ex-wife, a girl, who Ishouldsay,usedto be my stepsister. She was nineteen, five foot four,topsand one hundred pounds soaking wet. My glare narrowed as I assessed Hamish’s six-foot frame andhugeshoulders. Yes, the guy was old and wasn’t in good shape by any means, but he wasstillbuilt like a brick shithouse.

Hamish had unashamedly called Ava a bitch. I decided to let that go, for now. No one spoke out of turn about her; she wasmythorn in the side and no one else's. I was the only one allowed to cast aspersions and for a goodfuckingreason. Ava owed mebigtime.

Once again, the little witch had slipped through our fingers, and the man to blame was sitting in front of me, with an expression I wanted to wipe from his face with my fist.

Hamish had guts; I’d give him that, but if the details of his failure didn’t sit well with me, I would feed them to him. One gastrointestinal piece at a time.

After Hamish’s fuck up, it was time to bring out the big guns, but not until he explained what thehellhad happened.

My orders had been straightforward enough. Get in. Get the girl. Get out. Simple.

Nico opened his mouth to comment but I shook my head, silencing him. He was my best friend and second in command but if he gave me any more of his bullshit, I was liable to put my fist through the wall.

“Go easy on her. She was just a hormonal teenager,”Nico had said two years prior,comments which, if uttered by anyone else in my organisation would have resulted in a bullet to the head.Hewas the one who advised me not to be hasty.

Apart from Nico,no oneattemptedto reason with me. I was the most unreasonable fucker on the planet.Especiallywhen it came to her—Ava—replace the word ‘thorn’ with ‘bullet’in my sideand you get the drift.

“I don’t know what to say,” Hamish grunted, his face conveying he wanted to be anywherebutthere.

“Just walk us through what happened,” I suggested shooting Nico a dark look.

Hamish then went on to explain his shit show attempt to grab Ava from the lobby of her apartment building in Milan. The city she had run to almost two years ago.

How could tracking and capturing one single female be so much of a fucking ball-ache?Because you’ve recruited one of your father’s cast-offs.

I managed to curtail that need to introduce my palm to my forehead as I stared at the five men most loyal to me. Closing my eyes, I meticulously pinched the bridge of my nose between myfinger and thumb.

I was only twenty-seven but the last few months had aged me.

The silence sat heavy after Hamish’s rambled confession and my frustration doubled. When I’d found out that the useless cunt was on his way back to London empty-handed, I’d thrown a good bottle of whisky across the room. A loss I would be docking from Hamish’s pay. I didn’t do out-of-pocket for anyone. Especially not someone who had failed me.

Motioning with my other hand to make my point, I repeated Hamish’s confession more succinctly, “So, let me get this straight. Ava kicked you in the balls, throat punched you and brought you to your knees within seconds?”

Following my words, there was an exchange of looks between the men who sat before me.

I raised my eyebrows at Hamish, a signal for him to hurry the fuck up and answer me.

“Yes, boss. But don’t forget the sign she clocked me with, that thing weighed a ton.” Supposedly, Ava had hit Hamish with a wet floor warning sign. Classic. That had explained the shiner on his face. If I weren’t so pissed off, I would have laughed at that one; an example of the intense emotions I was experiencing in that situation, as Ineverlaughed. Not any more.

Nico had pointed out that my sense of humour seemed to have been ripped away the day Ava had left. He was right but I’d told him he was overthinking things.

Shaking off those thoughts, I prompted, “Andthenshe took your gun off you?”

There were a couple of coughs and the sound of a throat being cleared. All nervous gestures people indulged in when they were shitting themselves.

“That’s about the extent of it boss, yes,” Hamish, the number one drippy fucker I had on my management team admitted. I dropped my hands and glared at him. His face was bright red from shame and so it should have been. I still wasn’t sure whether to demote the cunt or kill him.

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