Rouse (Revenge Book 7)

by Trevion Burns

  Sloane tilted his head at her, making a glare from the rising sun move across his sunglasses. “I’d really hoped we could do this in a more civilized manner, Vandyke. I really did. But since you’re so damned hard-headed…” He smacked his lips with a shake of his head before lifting a recorder into the air. A recorder Veda hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He pressed a button on the small black device. Eyebrows raised high.

  Veda’s eyes widened when a voice floated out of the recorder and filled the air.

  Her voice.

  “Linc, please call me back. I’m really, really worried…”

  Her heart ground to a halt, and she lifted her eyes back up to Sloane’s, feeling fire shooting from her widened orbs even as they filled with stunned tears. Her voice continued petering out of the recorder and into the air between them, stealing her breath and stopping her heart.

  “And I really, really, really… hope you’re not doing anything stupid.”

  Sloane pressed a button to stop the recording, held Veda’s eyes for a long moment, and then pressed play again, just for good measure.

  Veda slammed her eyes closed as the message played again, feeling the lump moving down her throat as she swallowed thickly.

  “Interesting voicemail you left on his work phone,” Sloane said, sliding the recorder into the pocket of his black slacks while jamming his tongue into the corner of his cheek. “Even more interesting? It was recorded the same night he killed ten people in cold blood.”

  “Allegedly,” Veda corrected, through clenched teeth. “You haven’t proven anything.”

  “Which is why we need to tap your phones.”

  She nearly laughed. “Again, how many times are you and I going to have this same conversation? Until you show me a warrant, the answer is no. Now get your foot out of my door. Now.”

  Sloane didn’t remove his foot, but instead leaned in, lowering his voice, his hot breath hitting her lips as he whispered. “We have reason to believe you’re receiving calls from a known fugitive.”

  Her breathing picked up.

  “And as your friend, Veda, I’d implore you not to hide it from us if, in fact, that happens to be the case.”

  “You’re. Not. Tapping. My. Phone. Without. A. Warrant.”

  His face grew pinched. “In the voicemail, what did you mean when you said, ‘I hope you’re not doing anything stupid?’ ”

  “Get your foot out of my door.”

  “The sooner we get to the bottom of this, Vandyke, the sooner your fiancé can re-open and re-brand the cruise line that’s been hemorrhaging money since the moment we shut it down.”

  Veda clenched her teeth as she thought of how much money Gage was losing thanks to the cruise ships that were currently docked several miles away from that house. How he always put on a brave face even though he was losing tens of thousands of dollars every day those ships sat unused. How he always assured her that he was handling it, but the stress was painted as clear as day in his eyes.

  When she felt her emotion showing itself on her own face, she squared her shoulders. “I won’t be your asset.”

  Sloane removed his foot from the door, clutching his hands on either side of the doorsill before leaning in even deeper, voice lowering even more. “I’d urge you to think it through. If you force me to get a warrant, it’s on the books. If it’s on the books, and I find something, that’s aiding and abetting a fugitive. Aiding and abetting a man whose been sitting at the top of the most wanted list for the better part of the year. If I find out you’ve been talking to him—if I find out you know where he is—and you didn’t tell me? You’re going down with him. Do you understand that?”

  “Don’t you people have anything better to do?” she hissed. “Why aren’t you focused on uncovering the corrupt machine that kept that cruise line in operation for decades? The same white-collar machine that nearly brought this city to its knees? Why aren’t you looking for the shipping containers that are still MIA? Still scattered all over the country. Crate numbers recorded incorrectly in the logbooks or simply not recorded at all? Crates that are probably still carrying a bunch of scared, incapacitated, helpless people? Why aren’t you focused on finding out who allowed those containers to be logged with incorrect labels and fake addresses for years, leaving it impossible to identify what ship they belong to or where they even came from? Why aren’t you focused on taking down the crooked bastards still working for the port police or the white-collar criminals still serving under the judiciary? The same crooked bastards who are directly responsible for the phony records that have rendered you and every other incompetent agent on the force completely unable to close this case for nearly a year. Chasing your tails like a bunch of scatterbrained apes.” Her voice rose. “It’s not my fault that you don’t know how to do your goddamn job. And it’s not my family’s fault, either. So stop coming to my door with this bullshit. Stop trying to drag us into your mess just because you don’t have the faintest idea how to clean it up. It’s not our mess, and it’s not our problem.”

  Sloane waited until she was finished, letting a long silence follow her rant before he chuckled softly, craning his neck as a smile lit up his face. “Man. A hit dog will certainly holler, but I think that tirade just took the cake.”

  Veda’s chest rose in a deep breath. “Go to hell.”

  Sloane went to speak.

  But she slammed the door in his face.

  5

  Veda continued facing the door for several deep breaths with a hand over her heart. Sloane always had a knack for making it beat ten times faster, but his unexpected visit that morning had set a new record, leaving her feeling like she might be on the verge of a heart attack. For the millionth time since Linc had vanished, she cursed the God’s of fate for not letting the feds blame The Shadow Rock Chopper for the killings. It was becoming more apparent every day that they were never going to give up their search for Linc.

  Once her heart had partially slowed, she turned away from the door, a soft grimace still tightening her face—and came face-to-face with Gage.

  He stood next to the round foyer table, watching her silently. Lincoln had fallen asleep, as he often did whenever he was wrapped up in the tight cocoon of his father’s biceps, one of which flexed from where Lincoln’s head rested on it, an involuntarily flinch Gage always gave whenever he saw Veda upset.

  “Sloane?” His deep voice floated in.

  Veda began toward him with a sigh, the sight of him and their baby already hard at work wiping the frown from her face and extinguishing the fire in her heart.

  “He’s relentless,” she responded, her muscles relaxing when, once she was close enough, Gage wrapped an arm around her shoulder and kissed her temple, guiding her back to the fragrant food that still awaited them in the kitchen. “Why can’t they see that Linc is a hero? That he was simply doing what anyone else would’ve done to the men who’d hurt their mother and were directly responsible for the death of their wife and missing child? Why aren’t they harassing the people who actually deserve it?”

  Gage kissed her temple again, his arm flexed from where it was still wrapped around her neck. “Seems backward, doesn’t it?”

  “Ass backward. They need to leave him the hell alone. If they catch him, I just don’t know what I’ll do.”

  “They won’t catch him. That window is long gone. Which is why they’ve gotten desperate enough to come knocking at our door on a weekly basis. They believe we’re their last hope in finding him, even though we’re just as clueless as they are.” He kissed her cheek when his words didn’t seem to ease her. “Listen. He’s a former cop, baby. Wherever he is… he won’t be found until he decides.”

  Veda shook her head, looking off toward the sun still shining in from the wall-to-wall windows in the main living area, gleaming off the glasses of orange juice and plates of breakfast still beckoning them from the table.

  “I’m so worried about him,” she whispered.

  Gage was in the midst of
agreeing, but the doorbell rang again, filling the house with a sing-song chime and sending Veda’s previously slowing heart into overdrive once more. Three solid bangs immediately followed the chime, making the door rattle on its hinges, and then the doorbell rang out again.

  “Son of a bitch,” she spat, stomping back toward the door.

  Gage was right on her heels, ready to give Agent Sloane a peace of his mind as well.

  “This snake never gives up.” Veda’s hip accidentally bumped into the side table in her haste, making the vase of flowers sitting in the middle rattle.

  “Maybe it isn’t him."

  “It’d better not be. Anyone. Anyone but Sloane.” Veda stopped at the door, looked out of the peephole, and then looked over her shoulder at Gage, her eyes wide as saucers. Her face having dropped so low it nearly touched the floor. “Holy shit. Spoke too soon.”

  His eyebrows jumped. “Who is it?”

  Veda faced the door without answering and swung it open, revealing a tall, middle-aged, caramel-skinned woman standing on the other side wearing a lavender skirt suit with one leg cocked out and her bronzed arms crossed tight.

  Veda’s voice came dry as stale bread. “Mom.”

  Behind her, Veda heard Gage take a sharp breath—stunned in the way only a rich boy could be when he found himself improperly dressed for unexpected company. She could almost hear his mind racing, taking inventory of every part of the house that wasn’t in perfect condition. Making a game plan in his head for how he’d fix it all without being too blatant.

  But Veda couldn’t care less about being hospitable—too busy trying to remember how to breathe normally as her and her mother’s eyes remained locked across the threshold.

  “Veda,” Vivian droned, her voice somehow high-pitched and stunted, all at once, and always steeped in judgment at its core, as if she were constantly constipated. Her immaculate appearance was the perfect compliment to her critical tone of voice and her full lips—painted in a deep burgundy—were pulled into a smile so tight it was a wonder they didn’t come unglued from her skin. Her heart-shaped face was streamlined by thin, chiseled features, ensuring she always looked ten years younger than she actually was.

  Veda’s mouth went slacker every second until she was sure it was hanging wide open. But she couldn’t make herself close it. Her shoulders took on the same trajectory; sinking lower every second until she thought her spine must be bent into a C shape. She clutched the door in a hand that had grown slick with sweat, her fingers itching to slam it closed the same way she just had with Sloane.

  Gage came up behind her before she could, his voice floating in over her shoulder. “Mrs. Vandyke, what an unexpected surprise. Please, come in.”

  Veda craned her neck so her face was hidden from Vivian, giving Gage the sourest look she could manage. But his shining eyes were locked to Vivian.

  “Why thank you, Gage. How welcoming of you,” Vivian said, her lavender heels clicking on the marble floors as she stepped inside the foyer, never moving her eyes from Veda, who’d lowered hers to the floor, stumbling backward to make room for Vivian to come in. “Especially since it doesn’t seem like my daughter had any plans on inviting me in herself.” Even though Veda wasn’t looking at her, she heard the exact moment Vivian began speaking through clenched teeth. “Just like she had no plans of informing me that she’d given birth to my very first grandchild, six weeks ago.”

  Veda’s eyes remained glued to the floor, sucking in her cheeks and crossing her arms tightly because she now felt two pairs of eyes burning into her.

  She snuck a look up at Gage, and sure enough, a wild inferno had engulfed his eyes. His jaw clenched so tight it seemed moments from shattering.

  He widened his inflamed orbs at her and gave a soft, indistinct shake of his head, but the rich boy in him won out and stopped him from speaking the words Veda could already see painted as clear as day across his eyes.

  You told me you called them, was what his eyes said.

  She widened her eyes back at him, letting her brown orbs respond silently: I lied!

  When the shocked disappointment in his eyes became too much to bear, Veda tightened her arms across her chest. She turned her head toward her mother but didn’t meet her eyes. “Lincoln came a…a few weeks earlier than expected. He was in the NICU for nearly a month. I was distracted. I couldn’t think of anything but praying that he’d come out okay and—and he did.”

  “My grandchild almost died, and you said nothing?”

  Veda’s chest swelled, eyes still glued to the floor. “Well… I… it…—” She slammed her eyes closed and licked her lips when she began to sputter. “I knew you and Dad were on that backpacking trip in Thailand.”

  “I’m not sure you noticed, Veda, but we’re living in the year 2016 when there exists an incredible innovation called a cell phone.”

  “I didn’t want to bother you guys—”

  “Bother us!” Vivian roared. “Veda Gabrielle Vandy—”

  “How about this?”

  Veda and Vivian both snapped their heads towards Gage at the unexpected sound of his voice, both their chests heaving under their tightly crossed arms.

  Gage took a moment as his eyes shot back and forth between them, and then he stepped forward and offered the sleeping bundle in his arms to Vivian.

  Veda’s throat tried to gasp, but it closed up before she could, like a boulder had gotten lodged inside it. Her eyes widened as Gage placed Lincoln in Vivian’s arms.

  “Why don’t you take Lincoln,” Gage said softly, watching as Vivian did just that, cuddling Lincoln’s sleeping body in her arms with a gentle smile blooming on her burgundy lips. As Vivian became instantly enamored with Lincoln, Gage shot Veda a secret, poisonous look over his shoulder. “While I go upstairs and change into something more appropriate?”

  Veda’s face fell at Gage’s words.

  As he left Vivian with Lincoln and began toward the stairs, never moving his heated gaze from Veda, she reached out and took his arm. Every muscle in his body—his biceps, his abs, and even the muscular thighs under his black boxers—flexed at her touch.

  Yep, he was pissed.

  Still, Veda couldn’t focus on that, mouthing silently at him through clenched teeth, “Don’t leave me.”

  Gage mouthed back at her, “You didn’t call them?”

  “Don’t leave me with this woman,” she mouthed back, this time so passionately a hint of the hushed whisper actually left her lips. Not loudly enough to be understood, but enough to reveal that a secret conversation was being held.

  Gage lipped a response, and even though she couldn’t understand what he’d said, judging by his red face, his lowered brows, and the deep disappointment in his eyes, it wasn’t anything nice.

  “Please don’t leave me,” Veda continued to silently beg, giving him a fiery look when he pulled his arm from her grasp and began toward the double staircase, choosing the staircase that lined the wall on the left, his eyes locked to hers as he moved, saying so much to her without saying anything at all.

  Veda watched Gage climb the stairs, chest heaving, and only turned back to Vivian when he’d turned the corner out of sight. She clenched her fists at the sight of Lincoln, now awake, wiggling in Vivian’s arms.

  Vivian shook her stick straight, jet-black hair away from her face. Chemically relaxed and beaten into submission with a flat iron on the highest setting, her hair moved with ease before fanning down around her face, its dark color a perfect contrast to her tawny skin. Vivian was often mistaken for a Latina whenever she wore her hair straight, which she regarded as the highest compliment, so she made sure to wear it straight every day. Veda had never seen it in its naturally curly state. Growing up, Veda remembered the great lengths she herself used to go to get her hair to fall and move the same way her mother’s did. To get it to shine and glimmer against the twinkling lights of the chandelier hanging over the foyer table the way Vivian’s shone and glimmered right then.

  Vivian no
ticed Veda staring at her hair and smirked.

  Veda fought not to roll her eyes.

  “He’s beautiful,” Vivian said, bopping Lincoln in her arms, eliciting a soft gurgle from him.

  Veda’s fists and teeth both clenched tight. “Thank you.”

  “How unfortunate that we had to learn of his existence from your grandmother. She was just as stunned as we were that you hadn’t so much as called, even though you had no problem getting her on the first plane out the day he was born.”

  “So you did know he’d been born, but decided to finish your trip anyway,” Veda said, cocking a leg out. “Thank God I didn’t waste the money on roaming charges.”

  Vivian’s face darkened.

  Veda’s eyes fell to Lincoln. Her fingers itched to take him.

  Gage came bounding back down the stairs wearing a pair of black slacks and a white button-down, and every bone in Veda’s body relaxed at the warmth of his body as he came up behind her. His scent swooped in a moment later, washing away a few more clouds. He took her arms from behind, and she relaxed even more.

  “And Lincoln isn’t the only thing,” Vivian continued, giving Gage a cursory glance before looking back down at Veda. “You got engaged. Apparently to a man who could teach you a few things about courtesy and grace. No phone call then either.”

  Gage tightened his hold on Veda’s arms as if he could feel her blood pressure rising.

  Vivian continued. “You were attacked. Thrown down a flight of stairs like some actress in a telenovela. No phone call.” She drew in a sharp breath. “Lost the first baby...”

  Veda’s eyes filled with tears.

  “No phone call,” Vivian finished.

  Gage moved his gentle touch up to Veda’s shoulders.

  Pressing her lips together, Veda looked up at him and saw the exact moment when whatever disappointment he’d felt for her a minute earlier, transferred itself to Vivian. He held Vivian’s eyes over Veda’s head, and Veda could almost see the congenial rich boy wafting out of his body like an exorcism. Could almost hear the venomous words lingering on the tip of his tongue.