Vengeance: The Program Book 4

by N. M. Catalano

  I’ve been waiting for him.

  It’s foolish, I know.

  “That’s an amazing story. And you tell it perfectly, Mrs. Merriweather. I could see it all,” he places one of his big hands over the one she’s still got clutched on his arm. “Your Johnny, what happened to him?” he asks quietly, his voice full of respect for Nan’s dead husband.

  A shadow falls over Nan’s face. She gives Bull’s arm a squeeze. It’s an unconscious reaction to her memories. It chokes me up.

  “My Johnny…,” her voice trails off. “After the mill when we’d bought this ‘ouse,” her voice is quieter, somber. “’e’d decided to take a job at the garage,” she pronounces it GAHrage. “One day, ‘e was underneath a car fiddling about,” she waves her free hand in the air, the other still clutching Bull’s arm.

  I suck in a sharp breath as my hand flies to my mouth.

  “Aw, hell,” he shakes his head no as a look of anger washes over his face.

  She nods slowly, “Squashed ‘im like a pancake, it did.”

  “NAN.” I cannot believe she just said that!

  “Damn, Mrs. Merriweather,” his anger morphs to humor as he shakes his head side to side.

  It’s horrible, but she’s got a hell of a way of describing it.

  She slaps her hands on the table and stands. “Enough of the past then. We’ll be late.” She points a finger at Bull. “And you lad, you’ll not be sleeping on me settee. A boy big as you, it’ll be falling out from underneath you,” she laughs.

  She’s still laughing as she picks up her purse and walks into the garage.

  I smile. The woman is incorrigible.

  I give the kitchen another glance to make sure everything’s off and all the dishes are in the dishwasher. Picking up my things, keys, purse, jacket, (I made sure to find something other than a hoodie to wear today. This long sleeve slim cut t-shirt is working very well), I start toward the garage door.

  When I’m about to reach for the doorknob, Bull startles me. He’s leaning against the wall just on the other side of the archway. “Ten babies, huh?”

  He’s wearing a lopsided grin. Embarrassment floods me again for the hundredth time.

  “Shut up.”

  His gaze is intent and penetrating as he studies me and all humor disappears from his expression. I’m riveted where I’m standing. Our eyes our locked. My heart rate spikes as we stare at each other. Then he pushes himself slowly off the wall and moves to stand right in front of me. He’s so close, his smell of soap, aftershave, and earth and sun and air wraps around me, pulling me into him. I could get lost in him if I closed my eyes. But I can’t because he has me immobilized just by the look in his eyes and the tone of his voice.

  “You know what I think?” His words are low and commanding. It’s the voice I want him to use when he whispers in my ear.

  “What?” I answer quietly.

  I want to know. I want to know so bad. Everything.

  “I think it’s you that man has to be able to handle.”

  My heart thuds and my breath hitches.

  There is no man. Only you!

  I don’t respond. I can’t. If I started to speak, everything I want to say would come pouring out.

  He turns away. “Lucky guy.”

  My mouth drops open as I stare at his back, it’s huge, it’s as big as the side of a barn.

  “You go on out. I’ll lock everything up and be right behind you,” he’s saying as he goes into the other room.

  I jerk open the door and slam it behind me, then stomp down the three steps into the garage, completely confused.

  CHAPTER 13

  Bull

  I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

  I should have seen this. Looking at everything, all the pieces fit together. This place is loaded with money. With no real reason for it. There are no operating industries, no city filled with offices, no financial district with bankers or investors. It’s a picturesque quaint town with big houses and brand new cars. And lots of fucking money.

  Funny how The Club is just like that except on a grotesque scale.

  Someone is trying to infiltrate this place. Or have they already?

  The two women in the car in front of me had the key to link everything together the whole time.

  Who in the hell would have ever thought that ornery, quirky Mrs. Merriweather could have possibly flipped the switch on our entire mission? I can’t say I’m surprised.

  “Well, goddamn!”

  This could be real good. This insight could quite possibly put us in the right direction. That could bring us one step closer to finding Sasha. Maybe more importantly, if what we found in the mill is illegal, and I’d bet my nuts it is, and if we can tie it to The Club, we’ll bring that entire house of cards down and set this shit on fire. Burn it down to the ground and piss on the flames.

  Except nothing is ever that easy.

  Something is not sitting right, there’s a monkey wrench somewhere that’s got the whole mess jammed up. I just can’t put my finger on it.

  Today, when Gwen pulls into her parking space at the shopping center where the Magic Bean and the tattoo shop are, I pull up next to her while eyeing the surroundings. No cars around I don’t recognize, just mine, Gwen’s, and Rock’s truck. She turns to look at me through her car door window. I smirk and dip my head. She’s got to be wondering what in the hell is going on, I’ve never pulled into a space before. I’ve always followed them here, made sure one of the guys was inside, then left. I’ve got my truck turned off and am opening her door before she can exit her car. As soon as I do, that smell, her unique scent, the roses and her, makes my mouth water, my palm twitch, and my dick wake right the fuck up.

  “What are you doing?” Gwen asks, not moving from her seat, her eyes narrowed at me.

  Mrs. Merriweather’s still in her own seat, except she’s wearing a huge grin.

  “Opening your door. We’re going in, and I’m going to have a cup of coffee.” I place my arm on the top of her car and dip my head so I’m closer to her. “And you’re going to make it for me, darlin’. Might as well start practicing for that lucky man with the ten babies.”

  I’m such a dick.

  I can’t help it. Imagining her with someone else…making babies!...pisses me off. I’ve gotta admit, it was all I could do to keep my mouth shut and my expression impassive when her grandmother already had Gwen married off and barefoot and pregnant. The possessive primate inside me had her thrown over my shoulder and on the way to the bedroom to stake my claim all over Gwen’s delicious body.

  Her jaw drops a little as her eyes widen in surprise.

  Mrs. Merriweather chuckles and claps her hands in that silly way she does. My gaze averts to her. Then my smile broadens and I wink.

  “Oooh, just move!” Gwen huffs and pushes on my chest.

  It’s useless. I don’t budge. My eyes meet hers again. Her lips are in a thin, straight line.

  She is not happy.

  “What’s the magic word?” Total dick.

  Screw it. Might as well get what I can while I’ve got her.

  But I don’t have her.

  Shut up, right now I can pretend I do.

  Gwen glares at me. “You ARE joking, right?”

  “Nope.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Move.”

  “Say it.”

  She actually growls.

  I almost laugh.

  “Fine,” Gwen huffs. “PLEEEEEASE.”

  “Sure thing, darlin’. All you had to do was ask,” I reply maybe a little too pleased. I give her a little space to exit the car, just enough so her body brushes against mine when she slides from her seat. Maybe that was a dick move too. Sue me, I’ve got to get my kicks somehow.

  “Och, lad, you are a cheeky one, aren’t you?” Mrs. Merriweather chuckles as she walks around the front of the car.

  “Don’t encourage him, Nan,” I hear Gwen mutter over her shoulder on her way to the coffee shop.

  �
�Just trying to help,” I follow behind them, my bulk overshadowing both of them. Intentionally, and not to be a dick.

  “That’s not necessary,” Gwen jerks the front door open, but stops to hold it for her grandmother.

  “At least you ‘aven’t forgotten your manners, love,” Mrs. Merriweather comments as she enters and goes to her usual table and sets her things down.

  “Gee, thanks, Nan,” Gwen’s behind the counter putting away her things.

  After the conversation this morning, there’s a new light shed on this peculiar situation: Gwen working here and Mrs. Merriweather a constant fixture. I believe Gwen’s here for her grandmother. When a person no longer has a sense of purpose, when they begin to feel worthless or insignificant, they shrivel up and die. Maybe not physically, but emotionally and mentally. Mrs. Merriweather has so much life inside her, so much so it’s contagious to everyone around her. Here, she belongs, she’s important, she’s meaningful. She gives more than she receives. Here, she’s family, and she’s appreciated.

  That is priceless. You can’t fake that.

  I walk toward Rock at the back corner table. Good, he’s at the furthest one. “I’ll be waiting for that coffee. And it’s black, just in case you’ve forgotten, and bring another one for my friend here.”

  I hear Gwen mumbling some unintelligible expletives behind me. Maybe I can kill two birds with one stone. I can keep them safe while ruining any idea she may have of wanting to get married by being a complete dick.

  “How’s the domestic life going,” Rock smirks at me over the newspaper he’s reading.

  “Pretty good. I had me a big ole English breakfast this morning,” I glance at the bagel that’s now cold in front of him. “Next time I’ll save you some. Except it won’t be as good, fresh off the stove and all.”

  His eyes move to look at the unappetizing lump of bread. “You’re an ass.”

  I lean back in the chair and link my fingers behind my head as I stretch out my legs. “Born and bred. Still had a killer breakfast.”

  He shakes his head and goes back to his paper.

  “Have you ever seen their house?” I ask.

  “No.” He continues reading.

  “Historic monster. Museum quality.” I lean forward and rest my forearms on the table, and drop my voice. “And its Gwen’s.”

  This gets his attention. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. Told you, killer breakfast,” I meet his gaze.

  He folds the paper and sets it in the empty chair to his left. “Seems that way.”

  Gwen walks over with two coffees. “Here you go, your highness.”

  I click my tongue. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Rock’s eyebrows shoot up. “Your highness?”

  I grin. “Just getting her ready to have babies.”

  His eyes jump open. “Excuse me?”

  “NO. He just meant…that is…what he was talking about…,” she falls all over her words.

  I keep a straight face. “Gwen here is going to have ten babies, aren’t you, darlin’?” Saying it only serves to piss me off all over again.

  Rock’s eyes move from Gwen to me, then back. “Are you now?”

  “Oooh, you’re both jerks,” she whirls around and walks away.

  That should make her keep her distance for a while.

  Rock’s eyes meet mine, and he lowers his voice. “You want to tell me what that was all about? Have you fucked her already?”

  “No, But damn it’s killing me not to. Kind of a long story Mrs. Merriweather told me over breakfast. But the highlights were her husband worked at the mill, right up til the end. Seems all the employees were pretty much stockholders in the place. When it closed, the payout to the members was pretty hefty. That’s when Mrs. Merriweather and her husband bought the house.” I look back at Gwen getting ready for the early morning rush of customers. “Apparently she gave the house to Gwen.” I meet Rock’s eyes again. “So she can fill it up with babies. Ten to be exact.” My fists tighten just thinking about it.

  Rock catches the movement and raises an eyebrow at me questioningly.

  “That is a very interesting story. So,” he leans back. “Mrs. Merriweather was part owner of the mill, along with all the other employees.”

  I nod slowly. “That’s right. Although I’m not so sure about the ‘was’ part.”

  He furrows his brows. “You didn’t ask?”

  “She was up and out of the chair before I had a chance. There’s always tomorrow’s breakfast,” I grin. “Explains a lot about this town,” I continue.

  Rock leans forward and leans his arms on the table. “You think so?” He wants me to spell it out.

  “Sure does. Explains why so many rich people are here with absolutely no industry,” I answer slowly. “Kind of reminds me of another…community. Except a heck of a lot smaller. Don’t you agree?”

  The lightbulb goes off immediately.

  “You don’t think…,” his expression turns stone cold.

  “Anything’s possible. Look at all the separate pieces we’ve got. A closed up mill that made a whole town full of people pretty fucking rich. That same mill being bought by a company that’s buried so far underneath a mountain of paper, we can’t even find out who the actual buyer is. And Sasha’s husband, who lives a hell of an expensive lifestyle with questionable associates.” I lean in closer. “Associates who were talking about gifts to Saudi Arabians. Tell me, Rock, what’s the most sought after commodity in other countries, the one that’s hardest to get?”

  Rock’s hands curl into fists. “American women,” he whispers darkly.

  “Those cells we found in the mill are a perfect place to hide American women. Just before they put them in a boat and ship them down the river right outside it’s backdoor.” There’s venom in my voice.

  “Fucking pigs,” Rock grits out.

  “The rich want to get richer, no matter how they do it. Flesh, drugs, guns, doesn’t matter,” I practically spit out.

  “Seems we got an unknown break. The one owner who…,” he begins.

  “Refuses to sell,” I finish for him.

  Both of us turn our heads to Mrs. Merriweather.

  A rush of dread envelopes me.

  “Rock, there’s just one thing.” I grit out, my eyes now fixed on Gwendolyn. She’s getting ready to open the coffee shop. Her and Summer. She thinks I don’t know she’s stealing glances at me. I feel it every time her eyes find me. Every. Damn. Time.

  “What?” he growls.

  “Mrs. Merriweather said she signed every damn thing over to Gwen.” I can barely whisper the words, the enormity of their truth suggesting possibilities too damn horrible to imagine. Outcomes that could be just like Sasha’s if what we believe is true.

  “Motherfucker!”

  Shit just got really, really fucking bad.

  CHAPTER 14

  Gwendolyn

  I couldn’t sleep. Things seem to be very tense.

  Bull marched out of the coffee shop after he and Rock spoke. I’ve barely seen him since then. He’s either been in his stupid truck, or after we’d gotten back here, he’s been roaming around the house, inside and out. Whenever he’d come inside, he wouldn’t sit down, and he refused any conversation. Everything he’d said was short, one word responses. I’d finally given up and went upstairs. After I heard him finish in the shower, I waited until he’d gone back downstairs until I went into the bathroom behind him.

  I must be completely losing my mind, or I am in some serious need of male companionship, because the mere thought of occupying the same space he had been naked moments before makes my entire body tremble.

  Which is why I’m in a dark kitchen looking for something to take the edge off. Like sea salt caramel ice cream. The man infuriates me. He’s obnoxious, but he’s caring. He’s mean, but he’s protective. He looks at me like he wants to have me as his next meal, but then he pushes me away. He’s so contradicting, he makes my head spin.

  “I know i
t was in here,” I’m bent over with my head crammed in the freezer. I’m this close to throwing all of the frozen vegetables and meats out all over the floor.

  I don’t care.

  “What are you doing?”

  I jump back, hitting my head in the process, and glare at him. “Good Lord! Don’t sneak up on me like that!”

  Bull’s standing about two feet behind me with a deep scowl on his face, his arms straight at his sides, and his body tense. He’s not happy.

  “I asked you question?” he snaps.

  What the hell is his problem?!

  “It’s none of your business?” I snap back, folding my arms across my chest.

  His eyes shoot to my breasts, now pushed up by arms. No bra, only covered by the thin fabric of a camisole. My nipples are hard and completely visible from the cold of the freezer. A shot of heat rushes through my body as I feel his glare on them, only making them get harder. Goosebumps rise up on my arms and legs. If the lights were on, he’d see them too because I’m wearing tiny boyshort pajama bottoms. Very tiny, with no underwear. Everything in the lower portion of my body reacts to the realization, tightening and connecting like an invisible line from the very erect points of my nipples straight to my vagina. She wakes up like a screaming banshee, saliva already wetting her lips. I take a deep breath in through my mouth, my now sensitive breasts singing halleluiahs as the fabric rubs them under Bull’s intent gaze.

  “Gwendolyn,” he says very tightly, his voice deep.

  “What?” I breathe out heavily.

  Our words are fighting one battle, our bodies another one.

  My eyes move to his chest. Bull’s in a t-shirt, his large bulk filling it out perfectly, then to his arms, they’re as thick as my thighs and covered in beautiful ink. My eyes continue down to his low slung sweatpants and the tent protruding in the front from his erection.

  On the outside I drag my lower lip through my teeth. On the inside my libido does a happy dance on the bar.