Page 47 of Revenge

He didn’t bat a fucking eyelid, “Yes, Hamish said she’s back. Where the fuck was she?” Gerard grunted, his watery eyes searching my face. I frowned. Why the fuck was Hamish telling my father shit without my authorisation?

I decided it was not the right time to reveal how much that pissed me off. If my father was using Hamish to spy on me; the cat was now well and truly out of the bag.

Hamish was slyer than I thought.

I twirled the whisky in the glass I held, my eyes glued to my father’s face.

“In Italy.” My revelation forced Gerard to huff and sit back in his seat.

“What the hell did she go there for?”

I exhaled noisily, wondering what I should say, “Maybe she was looking for her father?” It was a random thing to bring up but I hadn’t prepared myself for Gerard being so open about Ava. To me that suggested he wasn’t guilty of anything.

Gerard shook his head, “Well she won’t get very far, he’s dead.”

“You knew Ava’s father?” I bit back, astounded that he’d never said anything before.

He shrugged his withered shoulders, “Not really. He was an Italian fuck. That’s about as much as I knew.”

“How do you know he’s dead?” A pained feeling ran through me at the thought of Ava having never known her dad before I pushed it aside. I couldn’t be dealing with any more pity or I’d fucking explode.

“Suki told me.”

“Did she say anything else?” I asked.

“No. She never spoke about him. Suki would never disrespect me by bringing up another man again.” I found it interesting that he said, again.

“Of course not,” I replied with a twist to my lips. I was getting nowhere fast.

There was a moment of silence until it was filled by the slurping noise of my father’s lips as he drank some coffee.

“So, the little bitch is back,” he said partly to himself, placing the cup down. The fact that he called her a bitch was like a cheese grater across my skin.

“It would appear so,” I answered in the blandest voice I could muster.

Lifting his hand, Gerard ran the handkerchief he held across his nose.

“Have you told her I’m sick? Is that why she came back? To gloat?”

“She doesn’t know you’re sick. She believes you’re dead,” I pointed out.

“Why would you let her think that?”

This was the strangest conversation ever. Gerard had believed that Ava ran away when he went to prison, fearing that now the head of the family was inside, she would no longer have protection. I had, of course, allowed him to think that.

Gerard was too arrogant to suspect a teenager could have been responsible for his downfall.

“Why not? You weren’t exactly close.”

Reaching for his coffee, a strange expression crossed his face and that niggling feeling I had shot to the surface.

“Not for the lack of trying,” Gerard said. What the fuck didthatmean? “I remember how she used to walk around the house half-naked. The little tart.”

What the actual fuck? My hand tightened around the whisky tumbler, so hard that I could have cracked the glass.

“What?” I shot out, harsher than I intended.

“Ava. The little slut. She did it to get between me and Suki.” He stared into space with a twisted expression. Almost perverse, as if he was reliving a moment.

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