Vengeance: The Program Book 4

by N. M. Catalano

  I’ve got my own mess to deal with. Turning back to Summer, I say, “Nan happened, and my life is ruined.” Yeah, I know I’m being melodramatic.

  Summer stares at me with worry etched on her face. “What did she do?”

  “She,” I drag out the word, “told Bull he is moving into our house. Tonight,” I whisper shout at her.

  She blinks at me and her mouth drops open. Then she laughs. She keeps on laughing. She laughs so long and hard I think she’s going to pass out. I can only stare at her. Doesn’t she know this is going to destroy me? Doesn’t she realize I won’t be able to hide what I feel for him if I’m around him day and night? I don’t care if I’m being dramatic, this is not funny.

  Finally, her outburst begins to calm.

  “Do you think that’s funny? That’s not funny.” I ask. Her hysterics begin all over again. I look out at the customers in the dining room again. No one is paying us any attention. People are strange like that. Unless it’s something interesting enough for them to record and post all over social media, they can’t be bothered, they’re so oblivious to what’s going on around them. All of them except Nan. She’s peering at us over the rims of her glasses with a little smirk on her face, like she knows what we’re talking about. That only serves to get me agitated all over again. It seems our little powwow caught Gringo’s attention because he’s watching us as well. “Just forget it,” I huff and start to walk away.

  She latches onto my hand and stops me. “I’m sorry,” she says between chuckles. “Why did she do that?”

  “Because,” I glance at Nan again and her eyes are still fixed on us, the needles have ceased moving and are poised in midair. “Since he’s been camping out in front of our house for weeks all night long, she said it’s the proper thing to do.”

  She pulls on my hand to get my attention. “What did you say?” She’s not laughing anymore.

  I meet Summer’s gaze. “She said it’s the proper thing to do.”

  “No, the other thing,” she’s staring at me with a curious expression.

  “He’s been sitting outside our house all night long. In his truck,” I answer, my agitation quickly dissolving.

  She let’s go of me. “Really? For how long?”

  I turn my full attention on Summer. I’m surprised really, I thought she was aware of everything the guys did. Like all of them are some part of a team or something, the four men and her and Raven. Partners in crime. “Since you guys went out of town for the convention. If he wasn’t there, then one of those motorcycle gang members were.” I hated it when Bull wasn’t there. Knowing he was made me feel safe. Those guys, they did the exact opposite.

  “I did not know that,” she murmurs. “But I can understand it, thinking about it now. The guys wouldn’t have had it any other way.” Her eyes meet mine. “Especially Bull.” A slow smile lifts the corners of her mouth.

  It’s my turn to laugh. “He hates me.”

  She shakes her head slowly. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

  I cross my arms across my chest. “Oh really? Then why does he always snap at me? Do you know what he said to me this morning?” I seethe every time I think of it.

  She’s got a grin on her face now. “What?”

  I blow out a gust of air. “He had the nerve to ask me what I was wearing.” Embarrassment shoots through me again.

  She chuckles.

  “What’s so funny?” I’m not laughing because that was not funny.

  “Because he probably wanted to tear that beautiful blouse from your body and have his wicked way with you,” she giggles.

  “You’re daft,” I sputter.

  “Nope,” she shakes her head again. “The boy’s got it so bad for you, he probably gets all twisted up around you that everything he says most likely comes out all wrong.”

  I stare at her. I cannot believe what she’s telling me. I want to believe it, Lord, how I want to believe it’s true. Then I remember the comment Nan had made about the barbecue and me liking a juicy steak.

  “Oh, God,” I groan and cover my face with my hands.

  “What?” Summer asks.

  “Nan,” is all I say.

  She chuckles. “I can imagine. What did she say?”

  I lower my hands and roll my eyes. “Bull said he likes to grill, you know, like barbecue?”

  Her smile widens. “Go on.”

  I let out a heavy breath.

  “Well, she said…,” I begin.

  “I merely told Bull,” Nan butts in because she’s obviously been listening to our entire conversation, her needles once again in motion. “That our Gwendolyn likes a dripping piece of meat.”

  “Oh God,” I groan and slap my hands over my face again.

  Summer gives in to another fit of laughter. Even Gringo cracks a smile.

  THAT, the break in Gringo’s darkness, is worth the humiliation.

  “See what I mean,” I mumble from beneath my palms.

  Summer’s laughter quiets. “Who knows? That just might make Bull shit or get off the pot.”

  I drop my hands. “That’s exactly what Nan said this morning about this blouse.”

  Summer eyes my shirt. “I wanted to tell you how much I love it, but I was afraid you were going to bite my head off. You look gorgeous in it. And you are totally rocking those jeans. Bull was probably biting nails with you dressed like that. No wonder he was gruff. The poor guy.”

  I want to let out a loud ‘Hell, yes!’

  It’s my turn to giggle. “You think so? He doesn’t give me the time of day.”

  She lays a hand on my arm. “He’s got his reasons, Gwen, and it has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

  She’s hiding something from me. My eyes search hers trying to read her, hoping to make her give me any piece of information that will help me believe that.

  That’s what drives me crazy. They’re all in on a huge secret, and I’m left in the dark. That wouldn’t be half as bad if Bull wasn’t downright rude.

  “Yeah, well, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I grumble.

  “I know,” Summer says softly. “Just give him time. Things will…get back to normal. Then you will blow his mind,” she whispers with a mischievous grin.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I wave her off. She may think that, but that’s not how it is, and it’s definitely not how it’s going to be. “I’m sorry I was such a shrew this morning.” I scrunch my face again.

  “Aw, Gwen. When Rock first stormed into my life, I was an absolute mess,” Summer starts wiping down the steamer nozzle. “I was crazy attracted to him, but I’d refused to acknowledge it. I knew he was flirting with me, but I thought he was just playing. I did not want to see anyone. At. All,” she locks her eyes on mine. “Then he took me home with him to take care of me when I hurt my leg,” she blushes. “It took that to force us together. Fate. Maybe this is fate’s way of doing that for you.”

  I’m the first to admit I’m a hopeless romantic. Totally guilty as charged. And if I were honest, I want Bull to get all caveman-like on me, throw me over his shoulder and have his wicked way with me as Summer said. Because that pushes all of my girly buttons, and then some. It would be so easy to fantasize this is going to lead to the happily ever after.

  But that’s Bull, and this is me, and he has never been able to talk to me without barking or snapping. If he’d bite, then maybe something would happen.

  I grab a towel and head to the dining room to start cleaning the tables. “Yeah, and I’m Cinderella, Nan is my fairy godmother, and Bull is the prince,” I laugh.

  Summer laughs, “Stranger things have happened,” then turns her attention back to work.

  Straightening the chairs, wiping the table tops, and picking up trash, I get lost in my thoughts.

  “So Bull’s Prince Charming?” It’s Gringo.

  I freeze.

  His tone isn’t cold or amused. He’s not sarcastic or humorous. He’s…flat. Lifeless. Dead.

  But it’s the first words I’ve
heard him speak since Sasha disappeared.

  I feel horrible. I was insensitive. At least the person I want is here and accounted for. The woman he loves has vanished. I’m so terrible.

  I slowly turn to face him. My breath catches. I haven’t been this close to him in weeks.

  Gringo’s a gorgeous man, all dark and sexy. But this man has deep circles around his bloodshot eyes, he’s filled with fury and simmering violence. He’s scary and sad and completely broken. It breaks my heart.

  “I was just kidding,” I shrug, trying to act like it’s no big deal.

  “You’re right. He is. He’s one of the best men I know, they all are,” he responds.

  The fact that Gringo is conversing with me has totally caught me by surprise. From what I’ve seen, he hasn’t said a word to a soul. He slips into the coffee shop like a specter, and slinks silently into his chair, pulls out his computer and his phone, and that’s where he stays. He fades into the background like some dark shadow, the only sign of him is his incessant typing on the laptop. The way he talks about his friends warms my heart and eases some of my trepidation.

  Because Gringo scares the ever living hell out of me. Especially now, like this.

  “You all are,” I reply.

  A slow grin spreads across his face. But there’s nothing kind or nice about it. “Things are not what they seem, sweet Gwendolyn. Remember that.”

  His words, his tone, his expression sends a slow shiver through me. Was that a warning? A threat?

  The words get stuck in my throat, everything I want to ask about them, about Sasha, about Summer, and what’s going. I want to demand he tell me what he’s referring to, I want to make him tell me all the secrets I know they’re hiding.

  “No they’re not, lad, and you best be remembering that too,” Nan adds from her seat at the other table. “Things are never as they seem. Sometimes we’re a bit lost to see it.” She hasn’t shifted her gaze from her needles or the white thread. Although the comment appears offhanded, it’s anything but. It’s meant for Gringo. He knows it. What she means by it, I have no clue, but I’d bet it has to do with Sasha.

  He turns his attention to her, silent and somber. A flash of hope crosses his face as he considers her and her comment. He studies her, and God, I wish I knew what he was thinking. He doesn’t respond. Time stretches, me watching him, him looking at Nan, and Nan clacking-clacking-clacking those needles. Finally, he goes back to what he was doing, dismissing me and the rest of the world to return to his misery.

  I let out a deep breath and go back to what I was doing. The moment passes as everything goes back to normal, the mundane and the routine, while each of us dwell on our own miseries, retreating back into the bubbles of our own little lives.

  I glance at the clock on the wall.

  Three more hours until my life changes.

  CHAPTER 11

  Bull

  I’ve been face to face with some of the most dangerous and evil creatures on the planet. None of them have scared the hell out of me as bad as Gwendolyn and Mrs. Merriweather do. It’s not the fear-for-your-life kind of scared. It’s the I’m-going-to-make-a-fool-of-myself-and-loose-my-shit kind of scared. If anyone has the power to bring me to my knees, it’s Gwendolyn.

  Mrs. Merriweather? She does a real good job of putting the fear of God into a man.

  I’m following them home and I’m as nervous as a kid on his way to the principal’s office after he got caught drawing naked pictures in class. I feel about as juvenile as one too, with my bag packed in the rear of my truck, complete with toothbrush, toothpaste, and underwear. Hell, I don’t even wear underwear. My mama would have a right good laugh if she only knew.

  Thinking of my family sobers me up quick.

  I do that a lot, it’s only natural. I think of something, or I’m doing something, and my thoughts go to them, wondering what they would say. It’s normal. Normal people could pick up the phone and share these things. Not me. Not since I destroyed their lives. They’ve told me they don’t blame me for what happened, that they understood I did it with the best intentions.

  There is not a single good person who would risk losing their families livelihood on a damn bet.

  I did. I bet everything my parents owned. I lost. I got them thrown out on the street with nothing but the clothes on their back and the little bit of belongings they could carry in their beat up truck. The worst part of it all is they have to live every day with the reminder staring them in the face. They’ve had to witness the destruction of their lives and how it went from a home to a haven of the worst filth and degradation. Drugs, criminals, prostitution, guns. The memories of the night I destroyed their lives threaten to strangle me once again.

  I need to shut that shit down.

  As I signal to turn onto Mrs. Merriweather’s street following behind them as Gwen drives her Prius, my thoughts move to the conversation with Rock and Snake. It had pissed me off when they tried to goad me with the insinuation that Sasha had run off with Dominic Fellini. Sasha got a divorce and Dominic Fellini had apparently orchestrated it. Snake had been right. Dominic is a rich, handsome man. Being with a man like that had practically destroyed her. Sasha loved Gringo.

  No. She loves him. We have to believe we’re going to find her. We will, if it’s the last thing we do. What we’re most afraid of is the condition she’ll be in when we do. I force the thoughts from my head. I need to stay focused on the mission.

  I can’t shake the nagging suspicion that we’re missing something, something obvious. We just haven’t asked the right questions or looked in the right places.

  What stone have we left unturned? Where haven’t we looked? What the hell are we missing?!

  I slam my hand on to the steering wheel with frustration. “I know there’s a clue we’re not seeing,” I seethe. “What is it?!”

  We haven’t gotten the translations back on the crates we discovered in the mill. I’d bet every damn thing I own the merchandise that’s in there belongs to whomever has the bid on the property. Hell, there’d been a guard watching the place. The sale is stalled because of one party holding out. James Williams, Sasha’s husband, and his buyers have either got a huge set of balls, or seem to be very confident the sale is going to go through.

  But at what cost?

  I pull into the driveway tonight, and not park on the street. Mrs. Merriweather would have my ass in a sling if I didn’t. Gwen parks in the garage and the door slides shut behind her. This whole situation is a little strange, but, damn, I have to admit it’s nice. Turning off my truck, I glance around, looking for anything. I almost want to find some douchebag lurking around so I can beat the shit out of him and get rid of some of my frustration. The front door opening catches my attention and Gwendolyn is standing there waving me in. I don’t think she has any idea how stunning she is. I’d like to sit here for a while, just like I’ve been sitting in my truck, completely alone to think my thoughts. In my head, things could have turned out differently. Just for a while, Sasha is not kidnapped, Gringo wouldn’t be one match away from an explosion, and that little lady could be mine. But she’s waving a little more insistently and I can’t stall forever.

  “Ah, hell,” I groan. “This is going to be one long night.”

  I get out of the truck, grab my bag from the back, and head toward the house. Gwen’s on the front porch waiting for me. Seeing her like that, under the light, arms wrapped around her front because I know she’s got to be chilly, does all kinds of crazy things to me. She’s watching me, and I can tell she’s nervous. My gut twists. She so damn beautiful, all soft and feminine. And is about to be the biggest pain in my ass.

  Walking up the front steps, I bark, “Woman, are you crazy? Get inside.”

  She glares at me.

  Hell, I did it again.

  “Do you have to be so rude?” she snaps, turns her back to me, and walks into the house.

  I want to kick myself as I follow her inside. “I’m sorry. I don’t want you to cat
ch a cold on account of me. That flimsy, and sexy as hell, little shirt you’re wearing can’t be warm enough,” I grumble as I lock the door behind me.

  She turns to look at me over her shoulder. Her expression has softened, and I melt like butter.

  I am so screwed.

  “I’m fine,” she gives me a smile.

  Yep. Completely screwed.

  “This really isn’t necessary,” I argue again.

  She turns to face me and my whole body reacts to her, her nearness, the faint smell of roses that always surrounds her. Her. “Nan insists. If you hadn’t come in, she’d have gone out there and gotten you herself,” she gives me a grin that says she’d like to see her grandmother do just that.

  Gwen’s right. The old woman would have dragged me out of the truck by my ear. There’s no use arguing.

  “Where should I put my things? But I’m sleeping down here on the couch,” I point to the brown uncomfortable looking piece of furniture in the living room. It doesn’t matter, I won’t be sleeping.

  Gwendolyn grins at me and all I want to do is kiss her. Right here. Wrap her in my arms and kiss her until her legs gave out. Then I’d lie her down, peel those tight jeans down her legs, spread her wide, then I’d kiss her sweet pussy until she came all over my face. Instead, I turn my attention to the stairs. I can’t meet her gaze and imagine that, keep a straight face, and my dick not get hard.

  “Come on, I’ll show you to your room,” she moves around me and begins to climb the stairs. My dick starts to swell anyway as I watch her heart shaped ass sway in front of me.

  I want to groan as I squeeze it back down.

  I sweep a glance around the first level before placing a foot on the step, doing an assessment. It’s still early enough, I’ll do a thorough walk through after.