Rouse (Revenge Book 7)

by Trevion Burns

  “Anything from Gage yet?” Veda whispered.

  Under the brightness of the flame, his green eyes looked almost blue. “No.”

  “I’m so worried about him.”

  “As long as he gets out of town, he’ll be okay.”

  “But for how long? We don’t even know if he’s gotten out of town yet. Where will he go? What if someone’s trailing him? What if he wasn’t able to get away in time and he’s in trouble?” A blaze of anxiety tightened her skin. “Have you checked your phone—”

  Her words were cut off when Linc slid a hand into his pocket, retrieved the burner phone inside it, and tossed it at her. She barely caught it in her bumbling hands, sputtering softly. Frowning at him, she pressed a button to activate the cheap flip phone—a pay-by-the-minute model that Linc and Gage had been using to talk anonymously—and saw that there were no new calls or messages.

  Still wounded by Linc’s treatment, Veda was unable to stop her bottom lip from jutting out as she plopped onto the carpet and crossed her legs Indian style. For a while, she studied his profile, the line that had permanently drawn itself between his brows and the muscle in his cheek that seemed permanently flexed.

  She waited for any sign of regret about the way he’d just flung that phone at her, but as he poked at the fire, clearly aware of Veda’s gaze and purposely ignoring it, she could no longer bite her tongue.

  “Listen…” She started, watching the muscle under his cheek do a slow roll the moment her voice rang out. “I understand, okay? I’m The Chopper, Coco slaughtered Todd, Gage is missing, and a bunch of innocent kids have just been found in a can. A lot has happened tonight, all at once. But… but that doesn’t mean you have to shut down on me like this.”

  Linc didn’t even flinch, giving no indication he’d even heard the words she’d just said.

  Veda breathed deeply, watching as he continued adding more clothes to the fireplace. “Linc, are they going to kill him?”

  Silence.

  Then, eyes still trained forward, his voice came, stoically. “To a trafficker, every kid in that can is worth at least a half-million a year. At least. There were twenty-three kids. You’re the doctor. I’m sure you can crunch the numbers—”

  “Eleven million five hundred thousand.”

  He cut a look at her as she did the math in seconds. “Net loss, 11.5 million. If the police shut them down, that loss moves into the hundreds of millions. Maybe even billions. All because some guy saw something he shouldn’t have seen and called it in.”

  Veda slammed her eyes shut.

  “A multi-billion dollar company with everything to lose.” His voice floated in. ”Yes, Veda. They’ll kill him. His death is their survival. If they get the chance, they won’t hesitate.”

  Her eyes fluttered open, and she reclaimed his gaze, feeling the moisture building in her orbs and gleaming under the lapping flames before them. She could see the moment Linc spotted the tears she felt burning her eyes.

  He looked away from the sight.

  “But you’re the one that called it in, right?” Veda asked. “How will they even know Gage is the one who saw the kids?”

  “Surveillance.” A lump moved down his throat, making his Adam’s Apple bob. “The cops at port… they’re in on it. They’ve already pulled the tapes, no question. David Blackwater has already gotten word that Gage is the narc, no question.”

  Veda’s eyes dashed back and forth as her mind raced. “Why did you leave the scene if you suspected the Port Authority was in on it?”

  “I didn’t leave the scene. Chavez kicked me off the scene after they opened the hold and the container was gone. Port police tried to deflect. Lying their asses off, saying the can was never there. That it was impossible for a container that size to be moved so quickly. I convinced her otherwise. I knew they’d unloaded it and were trying to stall so whoever unloaded it could get away. Told her she needed to set up roadblocks all over town because a truck must be pulling the can. She took my advice right before she kicked me off the dock.”

  “So your Lieutenant kicked you off the scene of the crime.” Veda sighed. “Seems like a really good time to tell her you nailed The Shadow Rock Chopper. That would’ve got you back into her good graces in the blink of an eye.” When she didn’t get the smirk she’d been hoping for—or even a sideways glance—she sighed. “Linc, what about Sergeant? I could never forgive myself if you lost it. If you don’t turn me in, which it doesn’t seem you plan on doing, you won’t make rank.”

  She saw his eyes roll. “I don’t give a shit about Sergeant.”

  “Since when?”

  His eyes finally met hers, voice rising as he held his hands out. “Since all this shit started piling up at the speed of light. I don’t have room to give a shit. I gotta get rid of something before I explode.”

  “Why don’t we start with what’s been tearing you up all night?” She leaned forward and yanked at his white t-shirt, which was still covered in dry blood. “Why don’t we start with the reason you have as much blood on your shirt as Coco did when she showed up at my door? And, more importantly, whose blood it is? Unless today is Come to Veda’s House Covered in Blood Day and I missed the memo, something happened to you tonight that has nothing to do with me, or her, or even those kids.”

  A smirk touched his lips, but as he tossed the last of Coco’s clothes into the fire, it vanished, as if the flames before him had entered his body and incinerated whatever emotion had put it on his lips in the first place.

  His eyes grew resigned once more, trained forward, locked to the fire. “Lisa’s dead.”

  Veda jolted, losing her breath for a moment before a gasp tore through her, swelling her chest. As the shock of his words ripped her slowly apart, all she could manage was a hushed, strangled, “What?”

  He licked his top teeth under his tightly drawn lips. “Found her for sale on a mail-order-bride website. Set up a sting to bait her pimp. She went rogue, killed Sam, pointed a gun at a rookie. Rookie was faster.” He gazed at her from the corner of his eyes, folded his fingers into the shape of a gun, and reached out, pressing his pointer and middle finger into her ribcage. “Three bullets to the chest.”

  Tears filled Veda’s eyes.

  Linc’s remained dry as he dropped his hand. “After she died in my arms, I clocked the rookie and lost my job, which is why I got kicked off the scene tonight. So no. I don’t care about sergeant anymore. I don’t care about anything. All I care about… is you.”

  The first tear jetted down Veda’s cheek.

  Linc watched it fall. “You. And my mom. And Emma. That’s it.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, leaving her almost terrified to ask, “Who’s Emma?”

  Another lump moved down his throat, and he broke their gaze, looking forward. Heat climbed his tightened cheeks as he began a slow shake of his head. Heat that Veda knew had nothing to do with the blaze crackling before them. He clenched his teeth when they tried to chatter, the corners of his lips curling down. The wrought iron poker fell from his trembling fingers and thumped heavily to the floor.

  “I don’t even know… where to begin…” His downturned lips began to shake just as much as his voice. “I have no idea where she is…”

  Veda sputtered as she tried to make sense of the words Linc couldn’t bring himself to say. To slow the emotional avalanche that had been working all night, without relent, to bury him alive.

  “I don’t know how to find her. I don’t know how to help her,” Linc breathed, his face crumbling. “I don’t know where she is—”

  Veda came up to her knees when his voice broke, crossing the space between them and clapping her arms around his neck, locking them tight. The moment her arms were around him—with his face buried in the crook of her neck—a sob raced up his throat. It warmed her skin, where his lips were pressed against it. She tightened her arms as he drew in a deep breath after the sob nearly choked him, clearly struggling to hold in another break. But it was a battle fought in va
in because another strangled cry came right on the heels of the first as he took the back of her t-shirt in clumps, plopping down onto the carpet, taking her with him as he did. Even as they crumpled into a heap, limbs tangling from where they sat on the floor, encased in each other’s arms, Veda didn’t release her hold around his neck. Even as his cries made both their bodies shudder like a seismic wave. Even when the hold he had on the back of her shirt grew so tight, it caused the neckline to tighten and cut off her oxygen, making it hard to breathe.

  At that moment, breathing seemed secondary.

  She didn’t push him further to elaborate on “Emma”. In fact, she didn’t say anything at all, because now Veda understood, at least at the most basic level, what had been slowly destroying Linc that night. Eating him alive. Tearing him limb from limb. No words existed that would help ease the pain in his heart. There were no words to calm a man who’d watched the woman he loved most—the woman he’d spent five years searching for—die right before his eyes.

  Veda didn’t know how to fix it. Hell, she didn’t even know how to fix herself. Regardless, even in silence, she held him, making a silent vow to stand tall even as he crumbled. To stand beside him in whatever war he’d entangled himself in—either accidentally or on purpose—at the front lines, fighting it to the death.

  He’d saved her life, after all.

  It was the least she could do.

  10

  Veda’s eyes flew open, and a soft gasp flared her nostrils. Barely able to open her swollen, squinted eyes, she found herself frowning, blinking rapidly and waiting for the world to come into focus. Soon, the haze clouding her vision ebbed away as her eyes shot all over the room, crystalizing and revealing her living room couch, the hint of the rising sun through the window blinds, and the charred wood in the fireplace. Remnants of the blackened wood’s earthy scent lingered long after the last flame had died down.

  Her eyes fell and caught sight of her fingers, splayed from where they were cradled on Linc’s hard chest, which rose and fell slowly. A smattering of her sleep drool had dried at the side of his neck, fully visible since his head was cocked away from her. His signature bun was sloppier than ever, falling apart at the nape of his neck, the elastic band hanging on by a prayer.

  When had they fallen asleep?

  Veda leaned forward to take a peek at his face, noting that his closed, swollen eyes looked glued shut. So much so that she wondered if he’d physically be able to open them once he woke up. His lips were plump as well. Cheeks still rosy.

  One breathtaking memory after another from the disastrous night before hit Veda like a rocket, and with another small gasp, careful not to wake Linc, she crawled across the living room floor and swept up the burner phone that she’d dropped earlier in the night when Linc had broken down in her arms.

  She nearly screamed when she saw that there was a missed call, almost dropping the phone in her haste to listen. Thankfully, the phone wasn’t password protected, so she was able to reach the voicemail with ease.

  The moment Gage’s voice floated through the phone’s receiver, Veda clapped a hand over her heart.

  “I made it out. I’ll call when I get a fresh burner…”

  He’s okay. Veda covered her lips to stifle a soft cry as the last of Gage’s message petered through the phone.

  “Please take care of her.”

  The phone beeped, indicating the message was over. Veda kept the phone on her ear for a while, as if some part of her was praying for a little more. A little more of his voice, a little more of his light, a little more of him. But she knew nothing would be enough. Nothing would be enough until he was in her arms again.

  Accepting that the day Gage was in her arms again might be a long time coming, she decided to focus on the present. With one last look over her shoulder at Linc, she stood and began racing all over her apartment, grabbing her things and pulling herself together as quickly and quietly as she could. After tiptoeing around Coco, who was still passed out in her bed, Veda didn’t even bother to brush her teeth as she finished getting ready and hurried to the door.

  She couldn’t control Gage’s fate—wherever he was—but now that she knew he was okay, it was time to focus on the things she could control. It was time to focus on the promise she’d made to Coco.

  The promise that Todd Lockwood would never wake up again.

  It was a promise Veda intended to fulfill.

  And she’d do it before the day was out.

  ——

  As David Blackwater made the slow trek up the long jet bridge—the whir of the airplane engine still in full swing behind him—he wasn’t surprised at the sight that awaited him straight ahead, at the bridge’s double doors. Through the legions of passengers also exiting the bridge in front of him, hauling their luggage as they went, a lone man waiting at the top of the bridge turned away, showcasing the bright yellow letters emblazoned on the back of his navy blue jacket.

  FBI.

  David tried to take a deep breath, clapping his hand over the tie of his black business suit, but it came up short. He ran his fingers through his shock-white hair while attempting to control the shift he could feel in his eyes. Every passenger gazed curiously at the FBI agent as they left the bridge, as if worried that, somehow, they were the person he was waiting for. The agent paid them no mind. He didn’t even make eye contact with the few passengers bold enough to ask him what was going on. Ignoring every question, the agent faced the bridge once more, locked eyes with David—paused, and then brought a radio up to his lips.

  David’s gray eyes flew to his left as he swallowed the lump in his throat, catching sight of his father-in-law, Pierce Kincaid. Pierce didn’t return David’s gaze, his bald head gleaming under the bridge’s bright lights, turquoise eyes trained forward, thin lips pulled into a hard line. He wore frameless rectangular glasses over his serious eyes, and his shock-white goatee—the same color as David’s hair—was perfectly trimmed. As he straightened the tie of his navy suit, David found himself amazed at how steady his hand was.

  “Don’t panic,” Pierce said, keeping his eyes forward even as his deep voice reached for David reassuringly as if he had climbed into David’s body and could feel his heartbeat picking up its pace. “Remember, we’ve got a football team of lawyers awaiting us the moment we make it past security, with a strategy already in place.”

  Pierce had clearly done a much better job digesting the dozens of urgent notifications that had hit both their cell phones the moment their plane had landed, but regardless, David heeded Pierce’s comforting words. He replayed them in his head, managing to remain calm as they exited the bridge and found a dozen more FBI agents waiting with stern faces. He managed to remain calm as one of those agents approached him with handcuffs, open and ready. He remained calm as his arms were locked behind his back and those cuffs were slapped on his wrists. He even remained calm as his eyes searched the busy terminal, taking in all of the people who were stopping, staring, and pointing.

  He saw his name on everyone’s lips.

  “Isn’t that David Blackwater?”

  Cell phones were lifted high from every direction—camera’s shuttering and flashing. David could already see the headlines of every newspaper the following morning. Headlines chronicling the downfall of David Blackwater and Pierce Kincaid—CEO, and Chairman of the Board of the largest cruise line in the world. David saw it all, and the calm began to float away. As his eyes dashed from one camera flash to the next, one shocked face after the other, he could almost see the moment his business and the brand he’d worked over a decade to cultivate, was destroyed beyond repair. His entire career down the drain.

  “You have no right.” David craned his neck, trying to lock eyes with the agent handcuffing him from behind. “There was nothing found on my ship. You have no evidence. You have no probable cause. You have no proof. You have nothing.”

  Next to him, Pierce was being handcuffed as well, shaking his head softly at David.

  Lock
ing the cuffs tight, the agent spoke over David’s shoulder. “David Blackwater, you’re under arrest for racketeering, wire fraud, conspiracy to violate federal customs statutes, child endangerment, and human trafficking.”

  Human trafficking. Those two words sent a tidal wave of shock rolling through the terminal, drawing gasps from every soul looking on curiously. Two words that had the power to send a chill down anyone’s spine. Two words that his name and business were now attached to—irreversibly.

  David went to speak.

  The agent jumped in. “You have the right to remain silent… anything you say can and will…”

  The agent handcuffing Pierce was reciting the same spiel, making their voices jumble together until they were reduced to a blur in David’s pounding ears.

  Until he couldn’t hear anything at all.

  As his eyes searched the busy terminal once more, where a large crowd had gathered to watch the wealthiest man on Shadow Rock Island being detained, he accepted that his life as he knew it was officially over.

  And the person who’d ended it would pay with his life.

  11

  Usually, when Veda walked into work at Shadow Rock Hospital, she walked in with one simple goal: don’t kill anyone.

  Accidentally or otherwise.

  As a first-year anesthesiologist resident, it was an ambitious goal. Some might even call it unrealistic. Some days, it was a goal that proved more difficult to achieve than others. Some days, her hormones were out of whack. Some days, her menstrual cramps were severe. Some days, a patient gave her a little too much lip at the tail end of a twelve-hour shift.

  Some of her patients had no idea how close they’d come to death when they’d tried her on the wrong day in that hospital. But, somehow, she’d managed to power through the incredible stress of the job, the incredible hostility of her co-workers, and the incredible entitlement some of her patients possessed. Nearly a year into her residency, Veda Vandyke was proud to say that she’d never killed a patient.