Page 35 of Revenge

Our relationship over those short few years became more complicated; she had been there all the time; in my face and as clingy as fuck. Eventually, when Alasdair was legally declared dead (even without a body), my father made it official and proposed to Suki and I had to put some distance between us all.

The day they married I took myself out of the picture again. My promotions business was then up and running, a legitimate one, I could put through the books. My father encouraged my independence but made me promise that I would be there when I needed him and of course, I agreed to that.

But I had no time for a stepsister who seemed to put me on a pedestal as if I was her Messiah, so I pushed her away. I could no longer be the accommodating, shoulder to cry on.

In a nutshell, I was a nasty bastard.

Ava then went off the rails. She ran away from school, saying how everyone there treated her like she was part of a criminal family and of course she was. When she was home, she’d throw parties with kids from outside our organisation; something that was forbidden. You didn’t invite normal people into your home as too many questions were asked. She also got arrested for shoplifting and again, I was the one to pick up the pieces.

On the night of her sixteenth birthday party, Ava came to my room to try and seduce me. She was waiting for me in my bed and after amore than firmresounding no, she’d shoved her clothes on and started making accusations that my father had touched her. She was shit-faced and I had taken it as another attempt to get my attention. Telling lies was not a new thing for Ava. I remembered how angry she’d made me but I hadn’t put my hands on her; I would never hurt a woman no matter how much she pushed. That didn’t mean that her bad behaviour went unpunished.

If someone was in the wrong, I tore them a new one with my temper.

And I had. I could still remember how I felt after Ava ran from my bedroom in floods of tears; broken almost.

Ava Cawthorne was the only person alive who had ever made me feel guilty for raising my voice.

Our relationship had then become even more toxic and I was sure that she was making stuff up to separate our parents in a poor attempt to claw back attention from her mother.

If I had a heart, I would say how tragic it was considering how our relationship started. As she said at dinner, wewerefriends once. I remembered Ava looking at me like I hung the moon and yet earlier that day, she’d attempted to shoot meagain.

Even now, I didn’t know if Ava knew I was the boy at her mother’s wedding to Wilkinson; the one who comforted her and saved her from the bullies. It never came up and to be honest, it was better that way. I didn’t see much of myself in that boy anymore and since Ava put my father in prison,forcingme to rule the roost, even less so.

My father’s incarceration had also given me a sentence. I had been pushed into a corner and had to take overeverything; otherwise, other men less worthy of the crown would have swooped in.

That day at the vault when I realised that it was Ava who had compiled incriminating evidence to send Gerard down, I was shocked. Her motivemusthave been serious stuff.

The way she alluded to Gerard having done something to her had resurfaced. I had taken that as Ava being backed into a corner; she’d been found out, had gone against our family, and would have saidanythingto get herself out of the shit. But I wasn’t so sure now.

The fact that she wasstillsticking to her story two years later worried me. Especially when she thought my father was dead. What would be the point in continuing the lie? Unlessit wasn’ta lie?

Fuck!

Gerard Kinlan could be a cruel bastard and I had once believed that he would never involve himself in the exploitation of women and children. That’s why weneverdid business with people who ventured into those dark waters. The man raised me that fucking way and so how would heeverallow himself to do something so wrong to the child of his wife. A woman he was so deeply in love with.

Gerard Kinlan’s prime focus had always been on business; even when my mother was alive. But with Suki, he had almost let it turn to shit; the man had been obsessed with her. And considering he’d always been focused on money and power in the past, it just didn’t make sense to me. Gerard put Suki on a pedestal higher than the organisation.

Gerard Kinlan was born in Dublin and had expanded his father’s local gang after his Da was murdered by rivals in the street right in front of him. Within a decade he had built up an internationally recognised successful criminal organisation. The Criminal Asset Bureau called it The Kinlan Cartel.

During those early days, the organisation’s sole focus had been on trafficking drugs and during his early twenties, Gerard had moved to Italy to be close to the Wholesale European Cocaine Market. To ensure he remained a powerhouse in Ireland, he had left behind an underboss and a team of soldiers.

From Italy, The Kinlan Cartel became the main supplier of quality-cut cocaine to Ireland and parts of the UK.

Eventually, Operation Bloom, a task force run by the Italian Criminal Police closed in on my father and he was arrested, sentenced, and incarcerated in the San Vittore Prison in Italy.

During his three-year incarceration, my father learned to speak Spanish and Italian, an achievement which would help with his plans to sell product to those two countries in the future. Upon his release, Gerard was forced out of Italy but defected to the UK to avoid the possibility of being extradited to face further charges in Italy.

This was where my father set up what would be known as the London syndicate of the Irish mafia in the West End of London. The Kinlan Cartel operated independently of the other gangs in London who had been there before Gerry appeared on the scene.

Although messy initially, territorial meetings were held and an understanding was reached. Any breach of those terms by any party would result in a gang war. No organisation liked to go to war, they were messy and unnecessary.

Gerard’s criminal landscape soon strengthened, expanding his organisation into Spain and Italy. Then he met the woman who would become my mother in London, a West End actress. They fell in love, married, and then she eventually gave birth to a child, me.

My mother died in a tour bus accident on the outskirts of London when I was nine. The matter had been thoroughly investigated, grumbles from a mafia family in Italy about my father’s business dealings on their turf; a suggested cause of the crash.

I still didn’t know if my mother’s death was murder or an accident. The Italians at the time did not accept responsibility. Women were well respected in the Costa Nostra, (Italian mafia) and family came before business. Her death was eventually registered as an accident and never avenged.

As I said before, family was everything to the Italian mafia and the fact that I didn’t have one was making me a professional pariah.

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