“This is called denial, Veda, and it’s the first stage of grief. You’re pregnant.”
“Jake? I’ll kill you.”
“I see you’ve already moved on to the second stage. You always were a quick study.”
Her eyes raced across his chiseled jaw. “In the terrifying instance that I am… Gage can never know. He will never get anywhere near my kid—if there is a kid. Which there can’t be because I can’t handle it.”
Jake dropped his hands from her arms before crossing his. “How will you keep it quiet? It’s only a matter of time before you start showing.”
Veda sucked in a breath through her nostrils, tired of fighting him about whether or not she was knocked up. “He’s obviously making these cuts to hurt me. To get me out of his hospital. He wants me gone, but not nearly as much as I want me gone. I’ll fast track my plans. I’ll finish off the final seven as quickly as possible and then get the fuck out of this miserable town forever. I’ll finish them all before I start to show.”
“You can’t rush this.”
“I will.”
“You’ll get caught.”
“I won’t.
“You’re not leaving.”
“I am.”
“I can’t live without you!”
Veda rolled her eyes. “I’m out of options. Everything’s falling apart. Gage is ten. The police are doubling down on their search for The Chopper.” I’m an accomplice to murder. A chill raced through her as she heard the words in her head that she couldn’t say out loud to Jake. She’d thrown up three times that morning. She didn’t know if it was the maybe-baby or the constant nagging fear of Jax’s body somehow being found—or both—that was making her so sick. But she did know that Jake could never find out what she and Hope had done. It was bad enough that he was already breaking the law by smuggling her drugs from the pharmacy. She couldn’t bear to get him tangled up in Jax’s murder too. As far as Jake knew, Veda had paid Jax off with Gage’s money, and he’d fled the city.
But she knew the truth.
That Jax was at the bottom of the ocean. Hopefully being demolished by sharks.
The only person who’d be fleeing was her.
She’d never give Gage the chance to hurt their baby—if there was a baby—the same way he’d hurt her.
“If I’m knocked up… that means I have twelve weeks before I start looking like an overeater, and twenty weeks before it becomes too obvious to hide. That means one man down, every two weeks. Every week, if I can swing it. Do you think you can get me the sodium thiopental that quickly? Without setting off too many alarm bells?”
Jake tilted his head at her as if that was the stupidest question he’d ever heard. As if he was wondering how she still didn’t understand that he was just as invested in this as she was.
“Veda, there’s nothing I can’t—or won’t—do for you.”
She launched at him, clapped her arms around his neck and squeezed. He circled his arms around her waist and squeezed harder.
They lived in each other’s arms, and as the warmth of his embrace made Veda feel safer than she had in a long time, a whimper left her lips. She tightened her hold and tried to fight the tears, but a soft cry still bubbled out, muffled in the crook of his shoulder.
“Hormones kicking in already?” Jake teased, rubbing slow circles on her back when she began to shake like a leaf. “Starting to think that confirmation appointment with Obstetrics is pretty unnecessary.”
Veda grumbled incoherently, thankful that her breakdown wasn’t out of the ordinary that morning. Several other employees in the courtyard were having a similar reaction, still reeling from the meeting.
Unlike them, Veda wasn’t crying because Gage had just informed them that all their jobs were on the line.
If he wanted to downsize his staff, so be it.
Because pretty soon she’d be downsizing his balls…
And he’d never see her again.
——
Veda hated chasing people.
In every relationship she’d ever had, be it sex, love, even friendship, she’d never been the person to make the first move. Never the person to start the unspoken game of cat and mouse. She’d wait years for someone else to get the ball rolling, even if she had to drop a million hints to make it happen.
Just another reason why she so hated the ten monsters who’d destroyed her life. She had no choice but to chase them, and it was a phenomenon that went against every instinctual bone in her body.
It didn’t seem right.
It didn’t seem fair.
Didn’t they know she was in delicate condition? In no state to be following behind a bunch of filthy animals? Why couldn’t they all just remove their pants and serve themselves up like rotisseries on a platter so she could slice their nuts out in peace? It was the right thing to do. And they fucking deserved it.
Todd Lockwood and Eugene Masterson had forced her to stalk them. To learn their habits, their patterns, their every waking move, so she could be sure that, once she attacked, it would be a home run. So many hours of her precious time, wasted. Hours she’d never get back.
But Jax Murphy.
As horrible as Jax Murphy had been, and as thrilled as she was that he was dead, Veda couldn’t help but appreciate the way he’d fallen right into her lap. Too busy trying to blackmail her for money and drugs, Jax had been the one to come to her. She hadn’t had to lift a single manicured finger.
Unfortunately for Jax, not only had he underestimated the sheer volume of Veda’s hatred for him, but he’d also underestimated the sheer insanity of Hope Dickerson. He’d underestimated just how much Hope loved throwing a punch—especially the punch that had sent him flying over the edge of a hundred foot cliff. A punch that had sent him falling to his death—cracking his skull at the bottom of the jagged black rocks. Jax had underestimated how little guilt Hope and Veda would feel when they’d relocated his dead body to the most dangerous bridge in all of Shadow Rock. How briefly they would hesitate in throwing his sorry ass over the edge and into the raging waters.
She had no doubt that if Jax Murphy could come back to life and do it all over again, he’d have never thrown himself into Veda’s lap the way he had.
But he had.
And it had been so very glorious.
So very easy.
No stalking. No cat and mouse. No chase. If only her number four could come gift-wrapped in such a perfect package. Topped with a shiny red bow.
“Burn victim. Arriving by ambulance in less than five minutes. Be ready with the good stuff.” Latika, Shadow Rock’s head nurse, smiled at Veda as she approached the welcome desk. Throughout the lobby, their fellow employees remained grim. Word of the meeting was spreading fast. Even Latika wasn’t her usual self. She had no side-eye, no smart mouth, and no ‘you-better-get-right-with-Jesus’ admonishments for Veda that morning.
Nothing. With just one meeting, Gage had struck the fear of God into everyone. Even his favorite employee.
Latika handed the chart to Veda with a sigh.
Veda took it, pouting. She couldn’t blame Latika for being down. After crying into Jake’s shoulder for an embarrassing amount of time in the courtyard, Veda wasn’t exactly on top of the world herself. She wanted nothing more than to leave that hospital and never look back, but she knew she couldn’t leave Shadow Rock until she’d finished what she’d started.
Not just for herself, but her baby as well.
If there was a baby.
She said a silent prayer that her appointment in obstetrics later that day would confirm that the cheap store bought pregnancy tests had been a waste of money. That she’d been hit with ten false positives and wasn’t pregnant at all. That she wasn’t going to be responsible for the life of some innocent kid—some kid she was guaranteed to fuck up beyond all human comprehension—and could carry on removing testicles in solitude.
Veda took a deep breath once she’d finished her prayer, vowing to suck it up. As much as she dread
ed seeing Gage in the halls of that hospital every day, being reminded of what he’d done, she knew she had no choice. Even if she weren’t pregnant, she still needed money to keep a roof over her head. Food in her mouth. In the terrifying event that she was pregnant, she’d need that money ten times more.
“Second and third-degree burns,” Latika continued, saying the patient’s name before Veda even looked at the chart. “Brock Nailer.”
Veda’s eyes exploded to twice their size. “Brock Nailer?”
Brock fucking Nailer?
Could the God’s be so kind?
Had the God’s heard her cries?
Was number four going to fall right into her lap? The same way Jax Murphy had?
Latika raised an eyebrow. “One of the hospital’s most generous donors?” She gazed at Veda from over the rims of her glasses. “The Nailer Cancer Foundation? The Nailer Orthopedic Institute for Children? Take a look at any plaque hanging on the walls of this hospital, and his name is probably on it?”
Veda didn’t need an explanation.
She knew Brock Nailer better than Latika would ever know.
Still she nodded, pretending to be drinking it all in.
“Half a million dollars in donations, this quarter alone.” Latika lowered her voice, her dark brown eyes dashing all over the lobby, almost conspiratorially. “Gage will be down your neck if everything isn’t just right, so be on your best.”
Veda flipped through the chart. “Boiling water?”
“An entire pot. Handle broke while he was carrying it to the sink and went all the way down his leg, poor thing.” Latika cringed.
But Veda fought a smile.
She hoped the pain had been enormous. She hoped the water had melted the skin from his body. She hoped, in her deepest heart of hearts, that he had serious internal injuries.
“How terrible,” Veda said, the hitch to her voice a tad too high, clutching the chart to her chest.
“He’s in an awful lot of pain…”
Good. Veda fought a Cheshire grin.
“He’ll be arriving any minute. Go, do what you do, sweetness…” With a wink, Latika turned in her seat to get back to work.
Veda left the reception desk and allowed a delighted smile to bloom.
She took her sweet time getting to Brock Nailer’s room.
She hoped he was screaming in pain.
5
On her way to Brock Nailer’s room, Veda turned a corner in the hallway of the burn ward and froze dead in her tracks.
In a heather gray suit with a charcoal tie, Gage strode down the opposite end of hallway, towards her. His feathered black hair had been pushed away from his face with more product than he normally used, leaving every inch of his chiseled face visible. The tight muscle rolling under his shadowed jaw. The sharp line of his usually full lips. The tightness of his thick black eyebrows. The hint of crimson humming under his olive skin, fighting to overpower its natural tan hue.
It was the first time Veda had been this close to him since their breakup. Close enough to encounter the spicy scent she’d once adored. The handsome face she’d once cherished. The taunt body she’d once made love to. The body she’d let enter hers. The body that had helped produce the child that may or may not have been growing inside her.
The little self-control she’d managed to maintain at the meeting that morning crumbled because she realized it would destroy her.
If she was pregnant with Gage’s child, it would destroy her. And, eventually, it would surely destroy their child too.
When Gage caught sight of her across the bright hallway, he froze as well. The line at his lips grew tighter, the hardness in his eyes stronger, and the roll of his jaw more frequent. His fingers trembled as he covered his stomach.
Was his stomach as sick as hers?
His lips curled down.
Hers did too.
His teeth clenched.
And her eyes fell closed.
“Please stop!” Veda begged, choking on the buckets of saliva that had accumulated in her mouth as he fisted her hair, so tightly it made her scalp burn. “You’re hurting me—” Her whimpered words were cut off when he slammed her neck down onto the white stone railing, with such force it cut off her airway. Filling her from behind, he thrust fiercely, a shot of pain more powerful than the last accompanying each hit. Veda tried to sob, but couldn’t. “I can’t breathe…” She wheezed, the words barely audible as she struggled to draw air into her shattered throat. He lifted her neck from the railing, not to help her breathe but to jerk her hair harder. Veda felt each strand as he ripped it straight from her skull.
“Dr. Vandyke,” Gage demanded.
Veda’s eyes popped open, wide and watery, heart in her throat, every inch of her body trembling as her blurry gaze locked onto his furious face across the hall.
The face she’d once revered. The face she’d once caressed, kissed, and savored. The face she’d once been convinced would never cause her pain. The face that had once played a starring role in her dreams for the future. Foolish dreams. Dreams that had been tainted by the very face that had created them. The real face. The monstrous face. The face that had been carefully hidden behind a glossy spit-shined veneer. The face that had been behind her, ten years ago, hissing, spitting, grunting, fucking her with the most savage force, whispering the vilest words, and taking the most sadistic pleasure in her pain on that terrible night.
The face she’d once loved… had been the most violent. The most brutal. The most savage.
She drew in the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, both shredded and furious that the animal who’d broken her collarbone, bruised her spine, and given her a permanent bald spot in the back of her head stood before her.
She swore, right then, that she’d never be stupid enough to fall for another man again. She’d never forget what animals all men were.
She’d never forget what he’d done.
“Dr. Vandyke,” Gage hissed, cringing, pointing toward the hallway next to her. “Wake up.”
In the next second, a gurney blasted through the double doors of the burn ward, causing them to slam against the walls and shake Veda out of her stupor.
And there he was, Brock Nailer, sitting upright on the gurney, being wheeled down the hall by three paramedics. The paramedics shouted Brock’s vitals to the surgeons that met them at the door.
Veda had to hold her breath to keep the bile in her throat at bay.
Brock Nailer had the same hairstyle as he had that terrible night. Basic brown, stark straight and down to his neck, split into a deep part. He kept it slicked back with gel, showcasing his naturally hooded features. His nose was perfectly angular, his brown eyes kind, and his smile luminous—a smile that always sent two long dimples zooming down his narrow jaw. With flawless olive skin serving as a backdrop, he was undeniably handsome.
He was also a monster.
Veda’s bones felt like Jell-O.
Her number four on one side. Her number ten on the other.
As her heart picked up to an unbearable level, Veda wondered if she could do this. Be with both of them in the same room.
Realizing she didn’t have a choice, she met the gurney at the end of the hall, helping the paramedics steer it around the corner.
Her eyes fell to Brock Nailer’s leg, anything to avoid his soft brown eyes, which she felt burning into her. She always had a moment when she worried they might recognize her. The men who’d stolen her soul. Jax Murphy had. Would Brock take one look at her and see the girl he’d violated ten years ago? Was that why his eyes were currently burning into her skull? Did he remember her the same way Jax had?
She kept her eyes down, taking in his burned leg. It was swollen to three times the size of the other one, reminding her of The Marshmallow Man. But unlike The Marshmallow Man, Brock’s pale white skin was blistered and peeling away, revealing the fire-red, bloated, irritated subcutaneous tissues underneath. Some areas of his leg were blackened and leather
y, charred like he’d laid it on a barbecue grill. The damage stretched from his upper thigh down to the tips of his toes.
Any other day, a burn of this magnitude would leave Veda fighting a cringe. It was rude to cringe at patients. But, this time, she found herself fighting a devious smile, unable to help sneaking a look at Brock.
Their gazes met, and his brown eyes softened. “I’m really sorry about this. I’m an idiot.”
Veda blinked at him. His skin was literally peeling away from the muscle, burnt to a crisp, and he was sorry?
She always prepared herself to be on the receiving end of every profanity in the book whenever she was called to the burn ward. So to be met with apologies and self-deprecation caught her off guard. Especially since they were coming from number four. A man she’d been born to hate.
She took a moment, refusing to allow Brock Nailer to make her sympathize with him in any way, shape or form.
She hated him. He deserved this. He wore a brave face now, but once the skin grafting began, this would quickly become the worst day of his life. And Veda was determined to enjoy the shit out of it.
Little did he know—this was only the beginning.
Once she was done with Brock Nailer, a skin graft would sound like a walk in the park, and this would quickly become the second worse day of his life.
The smile she’d been in the midst of vanished from her face when Gage’s blazing eyes met hers the moment the gurney cleared the corner.
“Move him gently, Dr. Vandyke. You act like you’ve never touched a gurney before,” Gage spat at her as if there weren’t three other people moving that gurney as well. “Gently!”
“I am!” she fired back, rolling her eyes at him.
His face reddened, and he jerked his heated gaze to the nursing desk in the corner. The nurses behind the desk straightened, eyes wide. Gage snapped his fingers at them.
“Brock Nailer,” he mouthed, as Brock’s gurney was guided into an operating room. When the nurses didn’t move fast enough for his liking, he snapped again. “Everyone. Now.”
The nurses scattered around the desk, racing into Brock’s room.
Yearn (Revenge Book 4) Page 3