Revenge Forsaken

by Chloe Fischer

  “WAIT! Wait, okay, you’re right, I’m sorry!” Victor choked. “I made a mistake asking you for an investment.”

  “You fucking stole my money. Stop calling it an investment.”

  “No, I…okay, I’m sorry I took your money. I should have known you would be a pain in the ass. You always were overseas too.”

  Remy’s jaw tightened.

  “Where is my money?” he growled. “And don’t think for a second I don’t see right through your bullshit now. If you think I’m conning you, Victor, you’re about to be sorely disappointed.”

  “I-I don’t have two hundred thousand dollars laying around the office, Anders. Look where we are!”

  “Two hundred and fifty,” Remy gritted out. “Let’s go get it then, wherever it is.”

  “I-I…it’s going to take some time to get it together.”

  “Sorry, wrong answer,” Remy spat. He was done listening to this fool talking.

  He paused, suddenly thinking about the woman in the reception.

  What’s her stake in all this? Does she know what “daddy” is up to? If she’s working for him, she’d have to be an idiot to not know, wouldn’t she?

  And if she is in on the scam, how shall I punish her?

  His cock twitched at the same time that his gut clenched in disgust, again. Bad enough he acted the pig part earlier with her, he had no intention of hurting her or anyone besides the scum standing before him. No matter what she knew or didn’t know, he highly doubted the intelligent-looking beauty outside was in partnership with the likes of what her father had associated with.

  “Don’t even think about going for that gun, Victor,” Remy said casually when he caught a slow movement out of the corner of his eye. “You don’t think I’d be stupid enough to come here without a backup plan do you?”

  Victor froze, his eyes growing large as the sweat from his forehead dripped down.

  Remy pulled a Berretta from his waistband where he had concealed it and met Victor’s eyes icily.

  “I’ll end this here and now if I have to.”

  Slowly, Victor’s hands came into view and he laid his palms facedown on the desk.

  “Seriously, Remy, I don’t have that kind of money lying around.”

  Remy’s eyes narrowed as he realized what Victor was really trying to say.

  “Let’s get real here, Vic. You don’t have any of it, do you?” he hissed. “What the fuck did you do with it all?”

  “Expenses! And I had some—”

  “Oh fuck, just shut up.” Remy raised the gun and aimed it between Victor’s eyes, watching the man turn opaque with fear. He wasn’t going to shoot, not there, but Chaminga didn’t have to know that.

  “Wait! What are you doing?” Victor screamed.

  “Is that a rhetorical question, or are you really that stupid?” Remy retorted. “I’m finishing what you started.”

  “WAIT! I can get your money!” Victor begged and Remy snorted.

  “Oh yeah? You remembered where you put a nest egg, did you?”

  “No! No, I don’t have any money but I can get some more. There’s always a way to get more.”

  “By ripping more people off. No thanks.” Remy said flatly. “I’m not about to just leave you to your own moronic tactics. You’re not any good to me when you’ve disappeared, are you? For all I know, you already have a yacht waiting and ready to go on Lake Erie.”

  “I swear, I don’t – we can work something out!” Victor protested.

  “I. Don’t. Trust. You. Why the fucking hell would I? I doubt you have anything worth me keeping that would hold you to your end of this mess.”

  Victor ground his teeth in frustration. Just as suddenly, his eyes lit up. In fact, Remy was surprised to see a genuine excitement in Victor’s face as his little weasel brain concocted another con, no doubt. “I can give you something to hold onto until I can come up with the money.”

  Remy’s bark of laughter was like the crack of a pistol.

  “What could you possibly have that A - is worth enough that would cover the collateral or B - you care enough about that you wouldn’t just leave behind?”

  But as Remy asked it, he felt a sick twist in his gut.

  Good God. What the hell is he cooking up now?

  He prayed he was wrong but when Victor leered at him with yellow-stained teeth, Remy knew it was something despicable.

  “My daughter. Olive. You seemed to be quite taken with her when I walked in on you both ogling each other.”

  5

  Olive fell back against the wall, gasping in shock at what she had just heard.

  Did…did I hear that right? Did my father just offer me up as collateral to a man who would be happy to have him killed?

  Fear and frustration mounted inside her and with trembling fingers, she reached for her purse on the desk. Olive knew she needed to get out of there while she still had the chance.

  But as her hand grabbed her purse, she wondered where she was going to go.

  Home?

  She scoffed openly at the idea. There was nothing waiting for her there except a drunk and more than likely stoned mother. Eventually her father would make his way home and he would be doubly pissed if she wasn’t there. Enough to take it out on her mother? Olive had no doubt.

  Mom is so weak. Victor would make her life a living hell, Olive heard her own scorn.

  What am I thinking? He already locked me and mom in a living hell. He is the sole reason mom is so fucked up ... the sole reason I’m trapped in this dead end job – the only way I have to protect her in some way.

  Slowly, Olive placed her bag under the desk and sank into her chair, knowing what trying to run would cost her mother. Her father was more than comfortable using people as leverage and collateral in his world. That’s why Olive found herself here, in the first place. He’d been using Sondra as leverage for years. In what other world would she be sitting in Victor’s office, dealing with his idiot henchmen while her “pillar” of a father tried to seep his way into the depth of the criminal underworld? He’d done absolutely nothing to hide his enterprises from her because he knew he had nothing to fear with her – not when her mother refused to leave him.

  He’s going to kill her one day, Olive thought miserably. Maybe not with a bullet but when she goes, he’ll be the only one to blame.

  It was hard to remember exactly when her father had gone from revered patriarch to a man whom Olive despised. She surmised that she’d seen a different side of him the night of the talent show but looking back, there had been plenty of warning signs, up to and including his dishonorable discharge from the Army.

  But Olive was his only child and despite all the shortcomings involved, he was her father and she couldn’t release the obligatory need to accept him as such.

  The older she got, the more she began to realize she wasn’t capable of the same range of emotion that others seemed to feel, yet another testament to her father’s raising and her mother’s weakness.

  She stood helplessly in the outer office, weighing her next move, but inherently she knew she wouldn’t walk away — not from her mother and not if it meant Victor would take a bullet to the head. She sat, dazed in her chair, to wait for the inevitable, which came only minutes later.

  “Olive,” Victor purred at her, his dark eyes feigning a kindness that she had only ever dreamed of seeing in them. “Can you come in here for a second?”

  I don’t fucking want to do this, she thought with fury. I’m not a cow and this isn’t the middle ages. Fuck him.

  Trying hopelessly to keep her face from showing what she was feeling, she rose and followed her father inside the office where Remy stood with a stoic expression on his face.

  She was slightly relieved he’d lost the cocksure grin he’d had earlier or else Olive was sure she might punch him in the face.

  “Sit down, hon.” Victor nodded toward an unoccupied chair but she didn’t move for it. If everyone else was standing, so was she.

 
I already feel small enough, thanks.

  “I’m good,” she heard herself say in a voice she didn’t recognize. Her throat felt like gravel as she stared at both men, waiting for one of them to speak.

  Remy seemed to be deliberately avoiding her gaze and apprehension shot through her.

  If he hasn’t refused my father’s offer, he’s just as disgusting as Victor, she thought, her nails digging into her palms. What kind of man accepts a woman as collateral?

  “Olive, have you met Remy Anders?”

  She didn’t respond as she fixed her stare only on her father, the fit of attraction she’d had for the stupidly handsome tattoo artist almost gone.

  “I was just getting ready to leave,” Olive stated. “What is it?”

  Just get on with it so I can tell you both to fuck off, Olive thought, but even as her thoughts were firm, she had a terrible feeling she knew exactly how things were going to go down – especially when she saw the same liquid anger in his eyes that she had so many years before and so many times since.

  “Mr. Anders needs some help around his business for a while,” Victor lied, too smoothly.

  “How nice for him.” Olive couldn’t supress the resentment growing inside her.

  Is this the story you’re going with? She thought hatefully, glaring at Remy who at least had the decency to look away but her father continued to stare at her with glittering eyes.

  “I thought you might want to help him out for a little while,” her father continued as if she hadn’t commented.

  “Why would you think that?” she shot back. “I have no experience working in tattoo shops.”

  Or any other shady shit he might be working in.

  Victor’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “So you do know who he is, that would explain why you were fawning all over him earlier. I would think you would welcome the opportunity to ... ah ... get to know him a bit better,” he said, and Olive regretted speaking at all. Instead of answering, she folded her arms over her chest and scowled.

  “It’s all settled then.” Victor didn’t sound remotely happy with Olive’s reaction. “Then you’ll help him.”

  “Help him what?”

  “With whatever he needs.”

  The undertone was not lost on Olive and her lips pursed furiously. She couldn’t believe that her father was treating her like a piece of property that he could buy and sell – wait, not buy, just sell.

  On some level, Olive realized that it had only been a matter of time before something like this happened — that she became a commodity to be used in her father’s sick games.

  Olive reluctantly looked back toward Remy, expecting to see a suggestive leer in his face but all she saw was a look of disgust that almost matched what she was feeling.

  Yet he said nothing against it, nothing indicating that he wasn’t on board with this mess.

  Why was Olive was surprised?

  “I’d really rather not,” Olive muttered after what seemed to be an hour of heavy silence.

  “Remy, I want a word with Olive alone.” It was an order, not a request, but Remy didn’t move, his eyes lingering on Victor with scorn.

  “You really need to get your shit together, Chaminga,” he growled in a sinister voice. “My patience is about to expire entirely.”

  There was nothing patient about his tone.

  “Just give me a minute,” Victor insisted. Remy grunted and spun to leave them alone, slamming the door behind him as he did.

  Victor lost any modicum of decorum the second he heard the click and glowered at Olive.

  “How dare you humiliate me in front of people?” he hissed. “You remind me more of your mother every day.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment,” Olive shot back, her back tensing even though she didn’t mean it. She never wanted to be like her mother, but in that instance, if it served to incense Victor, she would have said anything.

  “I bet you would. You always did defend her,” Victor snorted. “Even when you were a stupid kid.”

  Embarrassment and fury wrapped around Olive like a strait jacket.

  He’s only trying to piss you off. That’s why he’s saying this shit. And it’s working.

  “You’re going with Remy Anders. End of discussion.”

  “I’m not.”

  She said it with more conviction than she felt.

  “You are. And I don’t need to tell you why.”

  Olive grimaced.

  “How long are you going to use Mom as a way to get me to do what you want, Victor?”

  “I guess until your mother’s gone,” he insinuated.

  “How can you be such a spiteful prick? She’s your wife. Don’t you give a shit what you’ve done to her?”

  Victor visibly tensed at her tone. She was sure she was about to be backhanded.

  “She’s happy,” Victor snickered instead, knowing how to hurt Olive even more than a physical blow would have.

  How many times had she tried to get Sondra off the shit that Victor was pumping into her? How many times had she physically dragged her mother to detox, only to have Victor pick her up again, or her mother run away from the clinic and back to her asshole husband so she could pick up where they’d left off?

  You should call the cops and have him arrested, Olive thought miserably but what good would it do? Her mother would resent her and who knew where Victor had contacts in the Detroit police.

  “What do you expect me to do?” Olive asked resolutely, knowing that Victor spoke the truth, that she would do whatever it took to ensure her mother’s safety.

  If I can call it safety. But at least she’s alive – and she thinks she’s happy.

  “You will do whatever it takes,” Victor snapped and for a fleeting second, Olive thought she saw a glimpse of regret in his eyes.

  He doesn’t like this idea any more than I do but he’s desperate.

  “For how long?”

  “For as long as it takes!” Victor yelled, his face flushing. “Why do you have to be such a pain in my ass?”

  I’m being a pain in his ass? Clearly she had imagined a glimpse of regret coming from him.

  There was a loud knock on the door and Remy reappeared without waiting for an invitation.

  “Time’s up,” he declared, stalking inside. “What’s the verdict?”

  “Olive is going with you,” Victor answered before she could speak. “She’s looking forward to it.”

  “Fine,” Remy barked. “Let’s get the hell out of here then.”

  He shifted his eyes toward Victor, pausing to inhale.

  “You have two weeks,” Remy said. “That’s your limit.”

  Remy didn’t wait for a response and stormed from the office without watching to see if Olive was following.

  She stood, frozen in shock.

  “Now?” she demanded. “I have to go with him now?”

  “What are you waiting for?” Victor retorted. “A formal invitation?”

  “Jesus,” Olive muttered, shaking her head in resentment. There was nothing left to say. It was a done deal, another one of Victor’s messes she was party to cleaning up.

  Whatever. I’ll do whatever needs to be done and when I’m done with this, I’m getting Mom the hell out from under his thumb once and for all – Obligation be damned.

  Olive caught up with Remy outside in the parking lot, pacing around the front door with his cell phone in hand.

  A look of relief colored his face briefly before a hard expression overtook him.

  “Come on,” he said without preamble. “Do you need to stop at home?”

  Olive’s brow furrowed slightly in confusion.

  “For what?”

  “Clothes? A toothbrush?”

  Confusion painted her face waxen and she gaped at him.

  “Uh, what?”

  “What what? You’re not going to stay around my shop in the same outfit for two weeks.”

  He sighed, misunderstanding her stunned expression for de
fiance.

  “You know what? Forget it. We’ll stop and get you some new stuff.”

  “No! Wait, what are you talking about?” Olive demanded as he moved toward the Lincoln Navigator nearby.

  He paused and eyed her warily.

  “I thought your father explained this to you,” he retorted, ire sparking in his eyes. “You’re coming to work with me.”

  “No, I got that,” Olive replied slowly, a shiver flowing through her as she again thought about what that “work” would entail. “What I don’t understand is why you’re worried about my wardrobe for the next two weeks. I intend to go home, after work. Why would I need supplies?”

  She offered him a tight, sarcastic smile but he didn’t return it. Instead he frowned.

  “You are not going home,” he snapped. “Not until your father and I…”

  He trailed off as if he realized how putrid the words would sound if he said them aloud.

  “Not for two weeks,” he finished. “You’re staying with me!”

  Olive’s eyes bugged.

  “W-what?”

  More anger clouded Remy’s face and he raised one piercing brow.

  “I should have expected this,” he smirked. “Forget it.”

  Olive’s stomach flipped and she considered what she’d been told. He no longer seemed as interested as he had been earlier but that didn’t mean he didn’t expect her to put out, did it?

  Living in close proximity to him would make resisting his advances harder but if it was going to happen, it was going to happen regardless.

  For two weeks, I could be living under the same roof as Remy, away from my mom’s alcoholic and drug induced rants, away from Victor, away from his disgusting deals and his office and all that it entails. Why are you even hesitating?

  “Stop being a drama queen, Mr. Anders,” Olive chided, striding toward the passenger side. “I just didn’t know I was supposed to be staying with you.”

  Her pulse was erratic and sweat formed as Remy unlocked the doors with the fob.

  As she reached for the door, he surprised her by appearing at her side and grabbing for the handle to let her in.

  She blinked in surprise at the chivalrous gesture but she couldn’t help but notice the tight look he gave her, as if it pained him to do it.