Rouse (Revenge Book 7)

by Trevion Burns

  “Maybe he was just as shaken by everything as you were. The night Grace told us the truth about her and Linc’s last conversation—about what Pierce did to her—you didn’t take it very well either, babe.”

  “I was in shock.”

  “I’m sure he was too.”

  “So he just leaves? That’s the answer?”

  “I think he left you for the same reason he up and left all of us. You, me, even Grace—who he loved dearly. He did it because he felt like there was no other answer. That it was the only choice to protect everyone. And he wasn’t wrong. If he hadn’t done what he did, the goons David had hot on your trail would’ve eventually found you and killed you. Without their boss alive to instruct them they were forced to lay their armor down, probably just as relieved to be free from his clutches as everyone else. If Linc hadn’t done what he did, you would’ve never lived to come back home and give the testimony that shut that miserable cruise line down for good. You would’ve never laid eyes on your son for the first time, and he would’ve never laid eyes on you. God only knows what kind of hell Celeste would be living if anything had happened to you. The same kind of hell I would be living. Linc, he… he made a choice. If you ask me, a pretty damn selfless one at that. Maybe we should cut him a little slack.” Veda put a hand on his abs and used their hardness to help her sit up, adjusting her body in the large chair so she could pull her knees into her chest. He ran the backs of his fingers up and down her legs, his brown eyes searching hers. They watched each other for a long while, letting the silence dominate, only breaking their gaze when the sound of Lincoln stirring came wafting through the baby monitor.

  They both jolted as his gurgles filled the room like a bomb going off, steeling themselves as if the explosion had the power to send them flying across the room. They both sat a little taller at the sound, clutching each other’s arms. Priming themselves to race upstairs to the nursery as they waited for his gurgles to evolve into the ear-splitting wails they knew he was capable of.

  Instead of ear-splitting wails, however, Lincoln’s incoherent babbling slowly petered away, and in seconds, silence reigned in the living room once more.

  Gage clapped a hand over his heart when it did, collapsing back against the chaise.

  Veda knew his heart was racing just as fast as hers.

  “He owns us like slaves,” she whispered, drinking in his soft smile. “Think we’ll ever sleep again?”

  “Probably not. At least not for the next eighteen years.”

  She giggled softly, but the sound died a slow death, right along with the smile on her face, as she watched a dark cloud spread across Gage’s eyes. Reaching out, she stroked his cheek with her fingers, tracing every stress line growing across his usually flawless skin.

  She couldn’t help but sympathize. In a little under a year, the poor guy had been blasted with one devastating, life-changing event after the other—all at once. Even though they were making the effort to hash it out, Veda constantly worried that there weren’t enough therapy sessions in the world to fix what had been broken with him.

  He’d discovered that he’d been lied to by his family since the day he was born. Lies that had rendered his entire life a complete and utter fabrication. A fabrication that, in the wake of the largest massacre the island had ever seen, had cumulated in the eventual unveiling of the sibling he’d never known he had. The sibling he’d always craved but had never gotten the chance to confront. The sibling who was now long gone.

  Lone gone after taking matters into his own hands. After doing what the police couldn’t. What the FBI wouldn’t. The sibling who’d taken the life of every sexual deviant whose name he knew, in cold blood. Every monster who’d played a hand in hurting his mother, Grace. His late wife, Lisa. His missing daughter, Emma.

  Every monster who’d played a hand in hurting Veda.

  Linc had taken them all.

  All ten of the monsters that Gage still had no idea had hurt Veda so badly.

  As she traced the deep line drawing itself between his eyebrows with the tip of her finger, Veda knew he never would. He’d never know the horror she’d endured on that very island, ten years earlier. She couldn’t bear adding another boulder to his shoulders by telling him she was The Shadow Rock Chopper. Telling him why she was the Shadow Rock Chopper.

  She couldn’t do it.

  He’d been through enough.

  She drew in a deep breath and leaned forward, placing a soft kiss on his lips. He cupped her cheeks and returned the gentle peck with a sigh. When she pulled away, some of the stress lines in his skin were gone.

  But not all.

  As she thought back on the last ten months, she felt a soft frown beginning across her own face. Drawing deep lines across her own taut skin.

  In the days following Linc’s disappearance, all hell had predictably broken loose. The news of the brutal massacre of the island’s most prominent residents had been on every news station, the topic of every amazed conversation, and on the tip of every tongue. In those early days, some part of Veda had prayed the FBI would blame The Shadow Rock Chopper for the murders since most of the victims had been on her list. She’d hoped they’d blame the Chopper—the scorned woman who’d foolishly believed castration would be enough to appease her vengeful heart before deciding that, in fact, it wasn’t. She’d hoped they’d assume The Chopper had finally snapped and escalated, taking every one of her victims out in a hail of blood and gunfire. One last, explosive pinnacle to bookend her quest for retributive justice—taking David and Pierce as collateral. She’d hoped—she’d prayed—they would blame her.

  But the FBI hadn’t blamed The Shadow Rock Chopper.

  It hadn’t taken them long to discover the real culprit.

  The man who’d drained his 401k before disappearing overnight.

  The man who’d once dreamed of joining the SWAT team and had taken courses to become a certified sniper in his first year as a police officer at the Shadow Rock Police Department.

  The man who, less than a week before the massacre, had watched his wife die in his arms. A wife who’d vanished during a vacation on the Celeste and had been forced into trafficking for five long years.

  The man who’d just learned about the daughter he’d never known. The daughter who’d been taken. The daughter still lost.

  Lincoln Hill.

  David and Pierce’s cruise line had made him a widower, so he had motive. He’d just learned about the daughter he’d never known, so he had intent. He’d just lost his job, so he had nothing left to lose.

  It didn’t matter that Celeste Blackwater had told the police she hadn’t seen the shooter on the night nine men had been murdered in cold blood right before her eyes. It didn’t matter that, shortly after those men had breathed their last breath, she’d raced through the Blackwater mansion wiping every security camera clean—as well as all the servers—erasing every inch of photographic evidence mere moments before the police arrived, responding to calls of shots fired. It didn’t even matter that Linc had gotten in and out of that mansion, and later, the hospital, completely unseen. Not a single eyewitness to speak of.

  It didn’t matter that no one had seen him.

  It didn’t matter that no one had named him.

  They’d still known it was him.

  Veda’s eyes filled as she recalled Linc’s name and photo being released to the press, who hadn’t hesitated a moment in plastering his face all over the evening news. How the FBI, ATF, SRPD, and even Homeland Security had all banded together in an unprecedented attempt to catch him before he fled the country.

  But they’d learned the truth too late.

  They couldn’t outmaneuver a player who’d helped design the game.

  They couldn’t catch a fellow cop.

  By the time they’d named their man, he’d was already long gone.

  To where?

  No one knew.

  Not even his own mother.

  Not even his own brother.

&nbs
p; Not even his best friend.

  Veda reached over Gage and lifted her teacup off the table, careful not to spill any as she brought it back across his body and pressed the rim to her lips. The liquid was still too hot, but she let it sear her tongue. She welcomed the pain. Desperate for any distraction. Any escape.

  “Where do you think he is?” Gage asked.

  It was a conversation they’d had many times over the months. A conversation that never grew stale because the answers were always different. After he’d vanished into thin air, Veda and Gage had placed Linc smack dab in the middle of a million different outrageous scenarios, in damn near every country on Earth. And they weren’t the only ones. The story of Shadow Rock, the forgotten island—the sinister island—in California, with the highest murder rates, the highest missing person rates, and the highest sex trafficking rates in the country, had quickly gone mainstream. It wasn’t just the brutal murders of the island’s top one percent that had kept audiences captivated, but also the prologue to those murders. The story of The Shadow Rock Chopper and her own bloody reign. A reign that had preceded the deaths of the island’s elite, most of whom had already, curiously, suffered at her hand. At the shiny tip of her razor-sharp scalpel.

  Yes, Shadow Rock Island’s fascinating tail of darkness, death, and degradation was simply undeniable, and media outlets all over the map had latched onto it like a leech.

  Lincoln Hill’s story, however, was the most interesting of all, mesmerizing audiences all over the world as the man who’d had enough. The man who’d avenged his wife, his daughter, and any other victim who’d set foot onto a cruise ship docked on that dark, dangerous island. The man who’d brought an end to the violence that had poisoned it for decades in the only way he could. The only way he knew how.

  “I think he’s wherever Emma is,” Veda said, giving the answer she most often gave. The answer she believed the most, in the deepest pit of her heart. “And I pray to God he finds her.”

  “Emma,” Gage whispered. “My niece. Jesus, Veda, I have a niece.”

  Veda took another sip of her tea, still looking for escape as she let it burn her tongue.

  But Gage didn’t look for escape, letting his steaming tea continue to sit abandoned on the side table. Unlike her, he never ran from his feelings or his problems. He faced them head on, hungry for answers, for closure, for peace, and willing to fight for it.

  “I love you,” Veda said.

  His eyes flew to her. “I love you too, baby.”

  Their chests swelled in time as if they were both letting the comforting warmth those three words brought—even though they’d said them a million times—enter their bodies and down them with light.

  “Will it ever really be right?” Gage searched her eyes. “Will it ever really be home? Without them?”

  Veda considered his question for a long while, the sweet sting of the peppermint still tickling her throat, and answered as honestly as she could.

  “No. Because—” She gave a soft shake of her head. “No matter what we do, there will always be two missing.”

  This time, Gage did reach to the side table, lifting his teacup and bringing it to his lips. As he took a slow sip, Veda knew it was burning his tongue the same way it had burned hers. She watched him take the burn and let it linger before she took another sip of her tea as well.

  Lincoln’s soft gurgles came through the baby monitor once more, rising to the ceiling and filling every corner of the room almost as deeply as it filled both their hearts.

  They shared a small smile, waiting for the inevitable moment when the gurgles moved to wails.

  4

  Lincoln’s gurgles had moved to wails the night before, which explained why the massive bags under Veda’s eyes were even fatter and darker than normal as she walked into the kitchen the next morning, cradling him in her arms. The crackle of bacon on the stove, the aroma of toasted bread, and the trickle of orange juice being poured into glasses rose into the air as Gage moved all over the kitchen, his own eyes heavy with sleep. Rays of the rising sun fluttered into the large windows that lined every wall of the house, causing Veda to squint softly as she pattered barefoot to the small dining table next to the kitchen island. She took a seat at the table, hissing softly as she unlatched Lincoln’s lips from around her nipple, feeling like she was peeling the jaws of life away from her areola.

  “Swear to God, one of these days you’re going to gnaw it right off,” she chided him playfully, tucking her breast back into her nightgown while cuddling him close in both arms and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, or we’d be at war right now. I fight kids, okay? I will fight you…”

  Even as his mother threatened him, Lincoln’s lips spread into a smile, revealing the tip of his tongue as it spread wide, his tiny legs and arms kicking and flying wildly as he looked up at her with those big brown orbs.

  “You think that’s funny?” Veda whispered, unable to fight smiling back at him as Gage approached the table with a plate and a glass of orange juice, dropped them on the red tablecloth and gave her a kiss on the lips.

  “Good morning.” He leaned down and kissed Lincoln’s forehead too, which caused his dancing feet to kick ten times faster. “Morning, son.”

  “I must look a wreck,” Veda grumbled, only thinking about her appearance because, even with the lack of sleep, Gage still managed to look utterly spit-shined. “I always thought marrying an Adonis was a blessing. If I’d known you’d eventually become cuter than me, I’d have reconsidered all of my life choices.”

  “You’re stunning.” Gage peeked at her over his shoulder as moved back into the kitchen to seize his breakfast plate and juice as well.

  With her curly hair in a birds nest of a bun at the top of her head, a mouthful of morning breath that had yet to be tamed with a much-needed toothbrush, and half her boob still hanging out of her nightgown, Veda knew he was lying through his teeth. But regardless, she smiled softly, her heart warming at the fact that her future husband was kind and caring enough to compliment her face at that moment. A face that hadn’t seen a stitch of makeup or under-eye concealer in over a month.

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do once I have to go back to the hospital.” She tightened one arm around Lincoln’s wiggling little body while using her free hand to fork the eggs and bacon dish Gage had somehow managed to make look like Bob Marley. “Your breakfasts are getting more intricate by the day, baby.” She laughed, taking a big bite of her food while looking down at Lincoln, currently in the process of attempting to get both his tiny fists shoved into his wide-open mouth. “Both fists, my love?” Veda smiled adoringly. “I admire the ambition, but perhaps one at a time, huh? Just a thought.”

  “You know mother has offered to take him whenever we’re at work, Veda,” Gage said, responding to her earlier statement.

  “I know. I just hate to be a burden on Celeste. She just doesn’t strike me as the nanny type.”

  “You’d be surprised.” He returned to the table and sat across from her.

  She watched him dig into his food. “You’re right. Now that I think about it—even though I’m sure she bathes them wearing Gucci dresses and takes them on walks in the park wearing red bottomed shoes—Celeste is probably great with kids.”

  Gage chortled.

  “She must’ve figured out something the rest of the world hasn’t. She raised you right?”

  He smiled gently at her from around the rim of his orange juice.

  “And she did a pretty kick ass job,” she said.

  He set down his orange juice. “I think she’s really lonely in that big empty house. Probably counting down the seconds before you’re back to work so she can have him all day long.”

  Both their heads shot up from their food when the doorbell suddenly rang.

  “I’ve got it,” she said, motioning for Gage to take Lincoln from her.

  He stood from his chair and took the baby, immediately cooing at him the mom
ent he had him cuddled in his arms. Lincoln cooed and gurgled back, reaching for Gage’s face with clawed fingers, always excited to be wrapped up in his father’s strong arms. Veda would almost be jealous if it weren’t so adorable.

  She hurried out of the kitchen and into the foyer when the doorbell became more insistent, throwing it open with a soft frown on her face.

  The moment she saw who was on the other side of the door, her face fell.

  She cocked out a leg and placed a hand on her hip, her voice dropping sarcastically. “Agent Sloane.”

  Michael Sloane, a six-foot tall blond man who didn’t look a day over twenty, returned Veda’s smirk from behind a pair of silver aviator sunglasses. “Veda Vandyke. Good morning. You look…” His eyes traveled her body, lingering on the stains that her leaky boobs had left in her silk gown, and he didn’t finish.

  Veda adjusted the strap of her wrinkled nightgown and crossed her arms over her leaky, malfunctioning breasts with a roll of her eyes. “What do you want?”

  “I think I’ve made it pretty clear what I want,” he said, the arrogant smirk on his face ever present.

  “And I think I’ve made it pretty clear that I can’t help you. So I’d appreciate it if you’d stop knocking on my door every week, harassing me and my family.”

  “Whoa, whoa.” He held his hands up on either side of his head, making the flaps of his black suit jacket hang open, matching black tie blowing with the morning breeze. “The word ‘harassment’ is a little strong, don’t you think? I’m simply offering you the opportunity to avoid rotting in federal prison for the rest of your life. I’d say that’s pretty considerate of me.”

  “And here come the threats. Right on time. You never miss a beat,” Veda sang, feigning a smile before going to close the door.

  Sloane slammed his foot down in front of it before she could, making it impossible for her to move the door another inch.

  “Seriously?” Veda spat, peeking over her shoulder to make sure Gage was still in the kitchen before looking back at Sloane. “Unless you have a warrant, I’d highly suggest you get your foot out of my door. Right now.”