The other guy is wearing a leather cut that says Rebels on it. Panda, I think they call him.
I look around, expecting to see Ian Allen somewhere, but he’s not here. Hopefully he bled out and died after the airfield attack.
“We have some visitors,” Smitty sing-songs again, like the weirdo he is. “They’ve come to meetlittle Bobbi.”
The blood in my veins turns to ice.
“As you can see, Bobbi isn’t here,” Ringo snaps, and I can tell by his tone that he’s likely glaring at Nate right now.
What’s Smitty playing at? Is he tricking them?
It’s the most likely explanation.
“I can see that.” Smitty grits through clenched teeth, and I get a little satisfaction at catching him off guard. “You should go and get her. Don’t be rude to our visitors.”
Oh, hell no.
“What is this, Nate?” I snap, and his furious glare darts to me.
I called him Nate on purpose, knowing it would piss him off in front of his ‘guests.’ It’s blatant disrespect, but right now, I don’t give a shit about his bloody pride.
“You should show more respect to your elders.” Banes dares to speak, and my eyes lock with his. “Honestly, Priscilla. Didn’t you teach her anything?”
My lips twitch as my mother shrinks back in her chair, embarrassed after getting scolded by her father.
“Oh, she taught me stuff.” I grin. “She taught me that I don’t want to be anythinglikeher.”
Soft snickers float around the room, which only seems to annoy those sitting and standing around Nate’s table.
“Hmmm.” Banes sits back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. “She has the devil in her, Priscilla. Lucky you gave life to two more beautiful daughters.”
My lip curls in disgust at his words, but he drags his gaze from mine, focusing on Maggie.
“Come here, Maggie.” He pats his lap, and my sister stands from her chair.
I practically gape as Maggie rounds the table to go to him, glancing at me with a smug grin, like she just won the popularity vote, and I lost.
As she lowers herself to our grandfather’s knee, I stiffen, feeling Ringo’s hand squeeze mine in support, watching as Maggie links her hands behind his neck, and lets him place his big old wrinkly hand on her thigh, rubbing it up and down, way too high to be considered innocent.
No.
Shit.
No, she hasn’t… he hasn’t…
“Where’s my granddaughter?” my mum dares to ask, ignoring what her father is doing to her other daughter.
“Not here,” I snap, and she rolls her eyes.
“Fiddlesticks, Abigail. Go and get her now.”
My brows hitch. “Even if she was here, I wouldn’t get her. You aren’t going anywhere near her.”
“You little bi—”
“Why don’t we get down to business.” Smitty claps his hands, standing from his chair and rounding the table as everyone watches on.
“What fucking business?” Ringo barks. “We don’t do business with paedophiles.”
