Ava
I’d sat for over an hour, trying to formulate some sort of plan. But, at the end of the day, there was no one else I could turn to now, and I was on my own. Our friends thought we were dead, and like I’d said to Mason, it wasn’t healthy for Katie if we showed up on her doorstep when she thought us dead.
Mason was always one for planning, and thinking ahead, but without back-up, there was only one thing I could do.
Walk in there and hope an opportunity would come to us!
Going in like a bull in a china shop would leave a trail of destruction behind, undoubtedly my husband included in that. So, as if canvassing for donations to the local kids home, I double checked the address on the card Danny had left, and I waltzed up the drive and knocked on the front door.
The door swung open, and he stood grinning at me, his eyes bright and full of glee. Fucking psycho! “Come in, you’re just in time for dinner!”
I expected the pat down, and I had tucked a couple of pieces in random places just in case, so I wasn’t totally disappointed when Danny took them from me.
“If I’d known you were going to wine and dine me, I’d have come appropriately dressed.”
His eyes skimmed my body, and, while I wasn’t wearing a cocktail dress, he didn’t appear disappointed by my attire – cream floaty trousers and a loose black shirt. I needed something that would be easy to fight in, but then I didn’t think it wise to roll up wearing my black leathers either.
I followed Danny, covertly scoping out the house on my way through as he led me into the dining room. “I should feel offended.”
“Oh?” he questioned, pulling out a chair for me at a dining table set for five. “And why is that?”
“Only two guards. I thought with my rep that I’d warrant at least four.”
He laughed, tucking my chair under me when I sat. “Come now, we’re all friends aren’t we, and I do abhor violence, Ava.”
I nodded, giving the go-ahead for him to pour when he lifted a bottle of red wine.
He made a point of unwrapping the fresh seal around the rim of the bottle and uncorking it, signifying it wasn’t spiked and gave me a wink. “Not a great lover of Rohypnol myself, I find it leaves a very faint acidity on the palate. Not great with a red.” It was all a joke to him. “Anyhoo,” he continued in a singsong voice, “even with your reputation, Ava, there’s not much you can do without the gun and knives I confiscated. Even you’d struggle to take Etta and me on by yourself, never mind the couple of men I have positioned just outside.”
Deliberately, I moved my eyes around the room, taking everything in. It was a cosy dining room, a large mahogany table and a dresser the only furnishings. Double doors opened into the hallway that I had just walked through, from where I’d noted two other rooms, one I presumed to be the lounge, and the other the kitchen which adjoined the dining room via another door. Not that I really needed to identify the layout. I’d seen the blueprints for the house a few hours ago when I’d formulated a quick escape route if needed. Still, it was always an idea to double check in case there’d been an extension built on or a few walls demolished since the original plans had been drawn up.
“Are we expecting company?” I asked, sipping at my wine as I indicated to the other place settings.
“Of course! It’s a business dinner, isn’t it?” he declared. “And I thought a small reunion would be nice before we started all the boring talk. After all, how long is it since you’ve seen Oliver?”
When I frowned, the name not ringing a bell, he rolled his eyes dramatically. “Ah, silly me. You’ve never met your grandson. He is, after all, why you’re here, isn’t he?”
Oliver. I was a little stunned to learn he was an Oliver. The only thing Etta had done right was choosing his name. I’d expected some ludicrous name like all the teens seemed to go for nowadays. Oliver Fox was simply perfect.
We both looked up when the adjoining door opened. Mason stood between two huge men, each of his arms secured tightly in their hold. “Oh, wonderful. Our other guest of honour has arrived. Escort Mr Fox to the table would you, gentlemen.”
“It’s like dining at The Ritz,” I declared merrily, mocking Danny’s idiotic hosting. “Although they never tend to serve a Merlot as good as this.”
Mason did a quick, rigorous scan of my face, his shoulders visibly relaxing when he found me still in one piece, unlike him. I winced when I saw the blood-soaked bandage wrapped around his left hand. My glorious bastard had been maimed, bruised and broken so much over the course of a year that he barely resembled the same man anymore.
“You okay?” he asked when he was dropped heavily into the chair opposite me.
I nodded briskly, quick to alleviate his worry.
Etta was next to join us, sashaying into the room like she was made of pure gold, and regarded Mason and me with nothing but utter contempt. A maid scurried nervously behind her. God, she really thought she was someone. Over the years, from one dodgy deal to another, Mason and I had amassed a fortune, securing a comfortable future, not only the rest of our own lives, but our grandchildren’s grandchildren come to that. Yet, not once, had I ever considered getting a damn maid!
In the five years since I’d seen Etta, the difference in her was astounding. When she had dated George, she had been selfish, granted, but she’d also been a quiet, almost timid, girl. Now she behaved like she’d married into royalty. Bitch was up her own arse, and if she looked at me with as much disgust again, she’d find her imaginary crown jewels up there as well!
“Ava,” she directed at me as she took the chair at the head of the table. “It’s been a while.”
“Thankfully,” I muttered under my breath when she cast her eyes to Mason and greeted him with a measly curl of her lip.
My knuckles itched, and I dug my nails into my thighs to stop myself launching her through the French windows behind her.
Turning to the flighty maid, she sighed. “Fetch it.”
I wasn’t sure what ‘it’ was, but it seemed important when the maid nodded dutifully and hurried from the room.
“Isn’t this nice.” Danny clapped his hands, delighted, as he took his seat between Etta and Mason, leaving an empty seat next to me. It occurred to me that it was being saved for Frank, and I smirked to myself.
“Care to share the joke, Ava?” Etta drawled as if she was already bored.
Sitting back in my seat, I smiled sweetly at her and tapped my finger on my bottom lip. “It’s nice that your father is joining us for lunch?” Chuckling to myself, I swung my gaze purposely to Danny and quirked an eyebrow before adding, “And will Frank be joining us too?”
I caught Mason shaking his head like a lunatic on uppers through the corner of my eye, but he didn’t know what I knew. I wasn’t just poking the bear, I was ready to shove the stick right up alongside the crown jewels.
Finding my thoughts amusing, I giggled to myself and then coughed into my hand to cover it up when I realised I’d laughed out loud. For some reason, Etta must have thought I was having some sort of a spasm because she turned to Danny with a glare, and snapped, “Did you put something in her drink?”
He shook his head, looking as perplexed as her. “I swear,” he defended, holding his hands out in front of him. “She’s only had a sip. Although, she could have been pissed when she got here. I didn’t really take much notice.”
I smirked and focussed my gaze on Etta. “Not to worry, at least Daddy is here, eh?”
“Ava!” Mason growled out.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake!” Etta hissed through her teeth. “We’re not here for a fucking séance, Ava!”
“Eh?”
“I always knew you were unique,” she said, making air quotes with her talons. “But I didn’t realise you also talk to dead people.”
Frowning, I looked from Etta to Danny and then to Mason. “I don’t follow.”
“Etta’s father is dead, Ava,” Mason spoke slowly with a pointed stare.
I was thoroughly confused, and I slumped in my seat. “No, he’s sat right there!”
Both Etta and Danny, in synchronised unison, spat out the mouthful of wine they’d just supped and stared at me with a look of complete bafflement.
“Oh, come on. It wasn’t hard to figure out!”
Danny shrugged. “Figure out what?”
“That you’re her real father.”
Mason groaned loudly, dropping his face into his good hand and shook his head slowly. “Give me strength!”
There was a hushed stillness, and I looked toward the French window, half expecting a tumbleweed to rumble past.
Suddenly, Danny barked out a high-pitched laugh. “You think I’m Etta’s father?”
“Well, aren’t you?”
“Am I fuck!” he declared between fits of hysterics. “You’ve been watching too much Star Wars, Ava!” He turned to Etta, wiping the tears from his face and in his best Darth Vader impression, breathed, “Etta, I am your father.”
Etta, evidently not as amused as Danny, sighed and rolled her eyes. I caught Mason trying to hide his laughter behind his hand, and I narrowed my eyes at him. “Will someone tell me what the hell is going on!” I shrieked.
Etta looked ready to slit her own wrists, and Danny was sliding further under the table with every stupid guffaw!
Etta finally spoke, looking weary. “Danny is not my father. He’s my uncle.”
“Jesus, I think Danny may have spiked my drink after all!”
“Uncle Dan and my mother dated in school, that’s how she met my dad. But I can guarantee that Frank Scott was definitely my father.”
“Was?”
“Finally!” Mason declared, throwing his hands in the air. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be losing more than a couple of fingers! “Frank Scott is dead, Ava.”
This time, it was Etta’s turn to look confused. “Wait, you didn’t know my dad was dead?”
“No. I thought he was in France.”
Danny, at long last, stopped laughing and frowned at me. “You didn’t kill him?”
My eyes shot wide, and I gawped at him. “Of course I bloody didn’t!”
Etta looked almost disappointed. Danny shrugged and shook his head in disbelief. “Looks like I’m taking the champagne off ice then.”
The world had gone mad, and sarcastically, I muttered, “So we won’t be celebrating his death?”
“Unfortunately, no. Although I wasn’t particularly looking forward to thanking you anyway, so small mercies,” Etta stated so casually that I did a rewind in my head and replayed her words to make sure my brain had registered them properly.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I was hoping to use it as a bargaining chip, but now I’m not sure how to play this.”
“Etta,” Mason growled, clearly as frustrated with the whole situation as I was. “What the hell is going on?”
Running her tongue over her teeth, she tapped her long nails on the table. “Have you any idea how long I’ve waited for that cunt to die?”
Okay!
“Years, and fucking years,” she continued, not waiting for us to answer. “Frank Scott only allowed you both to see the lie our family was.” She looked at me. “When you took out my mother, I was halfway there, and I truly expected some con in the nick to take out my father. But, they didn’t, and then Henry Stillman got involved in the business, and the first thing he did was get Frank, his old chum, out.” We all jumped when she slammed her hands on the table. “I made that business what it was. It was my blood, sweat and tears that built it up. Then that bastard walks free and takes it back like I was a temp filling in while he went on his chuffing jollies!”
I wasn’t sure what the hell was going on, neither was Mason by the expression on his face.
“I couldn’t do anything without asking first, even what happened to my own son. He’s my fucking son! Why the hell should I have to do whatever he asked?”
Listening closer with the mention of Oliver, I felt a trickle of unease slither up my spine.
“Then, the old bastard was found in the Thames.” The smile on her face was rather sinister, and I shifted uncomfortably, not sure I wanted to hear any more. “Finally, I could make the trade and be free!”
Oh, fuck, no.
“Trade?” Mason and I choked out at the same time.
“And there you were,” Etta continued, lost in her own world. “Dad rang me and told me he was sure he’d seen you in France. I laughed at him at first. Liked to mess with the hard stuff, did my dad, and at first, I just put it down to a coked-up hallucination. But low and behold, I went back to Kirkingham to visit Uncle Dan when my grandfather had an operation, and there you both were, in the same bloody pub, no less.”
Leaning forward, Mason rested his elbows on the table. “I’m not quite sure what we have to do with all this, Etta.”
“I’d wanted to make the trade for years. I had the merchandise, and I knew you would pay anything for it. But Frank wouldn’t hear of it! Not like he had anything to do with it.” She laughed. “And then you both went and died!” She had a creepy way of grinning every time she mentioned death. I didn’t know if I wanted to birth her babies or run screaming for the hills.
“What merchandise?” She was rambling, and I was losing the plot.
Like she was the Queen of Sheba, she clicked her fingers in the air.
My heart jumped up my throat when the perfect copy of my own baby boy timidly walked into the room. As if he was frightened of making a sound, he appeared to float across the carpet and went straight to Etta’s side, where he stood, ramrod straight, with his hands by his sides and his vacant eyes fixed on some random spot in his head no one else saw.
“Oh, my.” They were the only words that would come out of my mouth, and I was suddenly full of so much fear that I froze to the chair.
My soul tugged from inside me, desperate to reach out and claim what it knew it loved.
I could sense Oliver’s curiosity, and although I wanted him to turn his little grey eyes my way, I also prayed, with every part of me, that he stood invisible and paid me no attention. I understood it was important to him, and I was too scared to move in case it put him off his intense concentration.
Mason’s swallow was loud in the sudden quiet, and I knew he was struggling to contain the wrath. Like he had rehearsed the words in his head a million times over in the last thirty seconds, Mason spoke calmly and ever-so-slowly. “Oliver is the merchandise you wish to trade?”
Etta nodded harshly, sweeping her gaze to him. “He is.”
My entire body was vibrating with fury, and the edge of my vision began to mist over with white vapour. I could feel the blood dribble down the palms of my hands where my nails had dug so deep, they had punctured my skin. But I didn’t feel the pain. If someone had stuck a knife in my back at that very moment, I wouldn’t have felt it. Because the crazy had started to take over every other sense.
For the first time in my life, I acknowledged and understood the madness that lived inside my husband, and I, like him, was struggling with the need to pounce like a panther across the table and tear this evil bitch limb from limb.
I thanked God for my glorious bastard. He’d dealt with the lowlifes of this world all his life, and he knew exactly how much sickness dwelled in people. With everything in him, he remained as stoic as physically possible, and knowing I was about to bring the chaos of hell upon the room, he had the forte to handle the situation exactly for it was. A business transaction.
“Your terms?”
Etta pondered for a moment. “Originally it was to take out my parents, or payment for Frank’s death, but now they’re both out of the equation, I feel a cash transaction would be apt.”
I sat in silence, chanting words in my head as I fought to push the white mist back. “She could have sold him on the black market. But she didn’t. She could have sold him on the black market. But she didn’t.”
“The rate?” Mason asked stiffly.
The blood from my palms had smeared over my cream trousers, and I forced myself to concentrate on it. It would be so easy to rip her to bits with my bare hands, but I had to remind myself that my grandson was stood not five inches from her. It was plain to see he was extremely damaged from life and adding the gruesome murder of his mother to the list of things that had fucked him up was not the way to go. It would be so easy to satisfy my hunger by gorging on her agony, but it would only add to his emotional famine.
The taste of blood exploded in my mouth, and I forced my wide, horrified stare on Mason’s rigid expression when Etta shrugged and said coolly, “Shall we say a straight five million?”
“Done,” Mason replied just as impassively. “I can transfer it straightaway.”
“Good.” She held her hand out, and I frowned, wondering what she was doing. Fortunately, Mason had his shit together. He slapped his hand in Etta’s, and they shook on it.
And just like that, I became a grandma.