Page 39 of Among the Sins of my Father

“Everly!” Michael rushes over and kneels, pulling me close to him. “What the fuck have you done?” he spits at the men behind him, then he turns back to me, hugging me tightly as I dissolve into tears. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?” He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length as he scans my body, checking for any sort of damage.

I shake my head. And then my gaze slips behind him.

“She’s fine,” my father says. “Just getting a taste of her own medicine.”

He looks nothing like the man I’d grown accustomed to seeing in the cell in the basement. Any of the weakness or the frailty I’d seen before is gone.

“Aren’t you going to say hello to your Daddy?” He laughs and another wave of nausea rolls through me. There’s a smirk of arrogance covering his face. He’s dressed in a white linen suit with a pale pink shirt. Mr Gorman stands beside him.

“Where’s Ette?” I want my voice to come out defiant and challenging. It doesn’t. It quivers and breaks on her name.

Michael’s fingers still dig into my shoulders. He’s staring at me intently, shaking his head and mouthing, “I didn’t know,” as our fathers loom behind.

“You don’t need to concern yourself with the girl. She’s safe.”

My father’s words bring me no comfort. How can I believe the words of a monster?

Summoning what courage is left inside me, I remove myself from Michael’s grip and get to my feet. Walking over to my father, I glare at him, planting my hands on my hips in an effort to stop myself from shaking.

“I want to see her.”

“I’m sure you do.” My father’s smile is infuriating. “But did you help me when I needed it? Did you have one ounce of pity for your poor father? No. You didn’t. Isn’t karma a bitch?”

“I haven’t broken the law. I haven’t held women captive for years. I haven’t—”

“Haven’t you?” My father lifts his brows. “It seems being an accomplice to murder might, just might, be considered breaking the law. Don’t you think, Gorman?”

I step backward, the guilt of the truth in his words hitting me hard. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I stutter as he continues to smirk.

“Does the name Keating ring a bell?” Gorman takes the reigns from my father, stepping closer to me with each word he speaks. “It should. It’s the name I gave you. The name of the man who was holding—” He turns to my father, “What was it you called her again?”

My father sighs as though remembering something pleasant. “Iris.” His tongue runs over his bottom lip. It reminds me of a lizard. “Such a pretty little thing. Pity about the attitude.”

I swallow the panic rising at the back of my throat. “What have you done to her?”

“To Iris?”

“To Hope,” I spit back.

“Oh, nothing. We left her exactly where she was. We didn’t want to be greedy. Taking you and the girl was sufficient retaliation. We don’t want to seem like we’re being unreasonable, unlike your boyfriend, Priest, wasn’t it? We didn’t see the need to wipe out an entire family.”

My father relishes waving this over me. He starts pacing the cell, hands shoved in his pockets as though he doesn’t have a care in the world. His face has already had a fresh layer of spray-tan added, almost giving off an orange tinge.

“You see that’s the difference between you and me, daughter. You can’t see your own hypocrisy. You see, the man you so quickly spread your legs for, he married this Hope as you insist on calling her. He’s her husband. As in, you’re the other woman.” He waits for my reaction, assuming it to be information I didn’t know. I don’t give him one. “Under his command, his man slaughtered Keating. There’s no other way to put it. He’d already got the girl back. He could have left without exacting his own punishment, but he chose not to. He also chose to attempt to kill the poor man’s wife.” He shakes his head and tuts loudly. “The poor woman had been through enough.”

“They had Hope locked in a bunker!”

My father whirls around. “They did not! Your little friend did. What was his name?”

My father looks to Gorman. “Dominic,” he offers.

“Yes, that was the lad. Strange one, that boy. But he was the one holding her captive, not his father. You see your hero isn’t such a good boy, is he?” He chuckles. “You know I never used to take stock in the adage that daughters are attracted to men just like their fathers. Guess I was wrong.”

“Jericho is nothing like you! Everything he did was to free Hope, not to imprison her.”

“Even if that means killing innocent people?”

“Aaron Keating wasn’t innocent.”

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