Yearn (Revenge Book 4)

by Burns, Trevion

Veda wrung her hands, took a deep breath for strength, re-checked Pearl’s vitals, and then set off for the welcome desk to explain to Gage why the nurses had broken every rule in the hospital handbook to get her grandmother admitted.

  She had a feeling this rumble with Gage would be one for the books.

  ——

  Veda had barely made it to the end of the hallway that led to the main lobby before she heard Gage’s voice. The deep voice that had once operated at an unwavering level two was now at a level ten. It reached Veda long before she made it to the lobby, causing her legs to freeze at the end of the hall. Still early morning, the waiting room was mostly empty, employees and patients slowly trickling in.

  She tucked herself into a dark corner that hid her away from the welcome desk. She peeked around. Gage leaned on the welcome desk in a steel gray suit, lethal brown eyes shooting daggers at Nurse Latika, who faced him from her rolly chair on the opposite side.

  “Why am I hearing that a patient has been given a CT scan and admitted to one of our best rooms with no payment details on file?” Gage demanded.

  Latika remained silent from her workstation, surrounded by never-ending piles of charts and files.

  His voice rose. “Is this really how you’d like to start your morning, Latika? Are you really ready to start making terminable slip-ups on patient billing when your pension is only two years away?”

  Veda’s stomach felt sick as Gage wasted no time threatening Latika’s retirement. All because she’d made the heartfelt decision to break the rules and admit Veda’s grandmother. Unable to stand it, Veda began to move out of the shadows to approach Gage. Like he’d said, Latika was two years out from retirement, and Veda couldn’t stomach the idea of her losing it all because of her.

  Latika’s next words stopped her cold. “Gage. It’s Veda’s grandmother.”

  Veda re-set and stumbled back into the shadows, heartbeat picking up, peeping around the corner once more. Eyes wide, she waited for the real explosion from Gage. The explosion that always followed the sound of her name those days.

  But instead, Gage’s shoulders fell. His lips went slack. His eyes, though still hard, narrowed, fingers tightening around the edge of the desk.

  Silence.

  Then, “What do you mean it’s her grandmother?”

  Latika breathed deep. It shook slightly, betraying her nerves. Once upon a time she’d been his favorite employee, but Gage didn’t play favorites anymore, and Latika was no fool. She knew even she wasn’t above his wrath.

  She retrieved a chart from one of the many sky-high piles around her, offering it to Gage with a wobbling hand.

  Gage snatched it. After riffling through the pages with a scowl, the sharp line between his eyebrows weakened.

  “Seizure?” He lifted his eyes to Latika.

  “Epileptic. Stable, but doctors wanted to monitor overnight.” Latika sighed as he resumed leafing through the chart. “Veda brought her in, late last night, just crying hysterically. Just absolutely beside herself. How could we turn her away? How could we not transfer her to our best room?” Latika spoke hesitantly, knowing she was treading thin water. “How could we do that?”

  Gage lifted his hard eyes from the chart.

  Latika appeared frozen in her seat. Veda could almost see her digging her nails into the desk from behind the high walls.

  A lump moved down Gage’s throat.

  Veda waited for him to rail on Latika. To tell her a write-up would be waiting for her in his office. To tell her that her pension was looking farther way than ever.

  He tossed the chart with a flick of his wrist. It clanked down, making Latika jolt.

  Sinking one hand into his pocket, Gage licked his lips while massaging his shadowed jaw. “Does she have any money at all?”

  Latika shook her head. “Retired. Just a few months out from qualifying for Medicare, which is probably why she slipped on the insurance. Believed she could weather the storm.”

  Gage’s jaw rolled, and he bared his teeth.

  Veda was unable to accept what seemed to wash over his eyes, fill every bone in his body, and change his aura completely.

  She couldn’t accept that she saw the old Gage. The Gage she’d convinced herself was dead and gone. That she’d convinced herself had never existed at all.

  “Waive the fee,” Gage said, lowering his voice just enough to not be overheard, but not low enough for Veda to miss it.

  Veda clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her stunned gasp.

  Gage hesitated, another ball moving down his throat. He rubbed his jaw again, clearly battling with the thoughts in his head.

  Latika’s voice grew low and conspiratorial. “I’ll have to—”

  “I know,” Gage said softly. “Just make it go away, and I’ll approve the override. If you hear from corporate, invoice me, and I’ll handle it.”

  With a sharp nod, Latika rolled away—pattering away on her computer, getting to work making sure Pearl’s stay at Shadow Rock Hospital was covered in full.

  Through blurry, tear-filled eyes, Veda watched Gage turn his back and saunter away, moving in the opposite direction. His shoulders stayed down as he crossed the waiting room to the elevators that led to his top floor office. Once he made it there, pressing the button for his floor, his shoulder’s sagged completely. His head fell, and he caught it in his hand, massaging the corners of his tightly closed eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

  And Veda released a sob, almost unable to accept what she’d just seen.

  17

  “Are bad people redeemable?”

  “No.”

  “Can evil be undone?”

  “No.”

  “Can my evil be undone?”

  Hope lifted her annoyed hazel eyes to Veda, smacking her gum. “It isn’t evil to finish the fight. It’s only evil to start it.”

  Veda sighed, unconvinced.

  The marina was calm and still that evening. Not a single cloud hovered in the darkening sky. The only sign of life was the orange cast shooting across the horizon, spawned by the setting sun. The boats barely bobbed in the marina’s tranquil blue waters. Most of the tourists had set sail earlier that day, so the sidewalks were lonelier than ever. Even the poverty stricken shacks in the distance, littering the hill that always reminded Veda of the slums in Rio de Janeiro, sat, quiet as a mouse. A heavy fog floated at the peak of the hill, hiding the most dangerous neighborhood on the island from sight.

  It was the most serene Shadow Rock Island had ever been.

  Veda wished she could say the same for her heart, but as she frowned down at the camera in her hand, her scowl deepening with each new photo she saw, she realized her heart might never know serenity again.

  Her eyes left the camera, and she drank in the view from the second story of the island’s most popular bar. Even Dante’s upper deck was quieter than usual. On most nights, real estate on that deck was highly coveted. Brawls over tables and chairs grew violent in an instant. Veda always joked that Dante, the bar’s owner, currently killing time polishing glasses behind the bar, had three jobs. A business man, a bartender, and a security guard. Dante had thrown his body in the crosshairs of too many physical fights to count.

  “I can’t believe how many cameras this son of a bitch has,” Hope said from across their small table. It sat right up against the glass, giving them the perfect view of the marina and both sides of the island. The illustrious side where the poor never ventured, and the desolate side the rich only stumbled upon by accident.

  A breeze blew Hope’s dark brown hair across her heavily made-up face, and she cradled a camera as well, her chipped black nail polish screaming out against its stainless steel body. The tattoos that started at her fingers stretched all the way up both arms. Veda had never seen Hope naked, but she was sure that the black and white ink kept right on going under her clothes as well.

  “It’s been two weeks since we raided his place and we’ve barely made a dent,” Hope continued, complaining�
��moving the huge wad of gum from one side of her mouth to the other before blowing a big bubble.

  Dante met Veda’s eyes across the deck, nodding his head up from behind the bar with a gleaming smile, his white teeth a sharp contrast to his dark chocolate skin.

  Veda waved back while speaking to Hope. “It’ll take a while to get through all of them. But it’s necessary.”

  “Why can’t we just destroy the cameras and the memory cards and be done with it?”

  “Just because Jax is dead doesn’t mean we should turn our backs on him. Especially since the police found his body. We need to know him inside and out. His friends, his family, his work. We need to know him better than we know ourselves and then we need to destroy everything we’ve learned. That’ll ensure we stay two steps ahead.”

  Hope went back to clicking through the photos. “Still think it’s a waste of fucking…” Hope’s voice dragged to a stop. “Time.”

  Veda lifted her eyebrows at Hope, sitting forward. “What is it?”

  Hope lifted her eyes to Veda, hesitated, and then turned the camera toward her.

  Veda’s stomach fell to the photo that had been taken the night of the party that had altered her life. In the picture, Jax Murphy, and Todd Lockwood played a beer pong game in the living room, surrounded by hoards of friends.

  But that wasn’t what caused Veda to abandon her camera and lean forward on the table, covering her mouth with her hand. No. It was the sight of her and Hope in that very photo, faces full of makeup, wearing mini skirts that left very little to the imagination, standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the background watching the beer pong game too.

  “Wow,” Veda breathed.

  “We were such idiots.” Hope turned the photo back to herself with a chuckle. “What the hell were we doing there, man? What the hell were we expecting except free booze and a bunch of miserable fucking people?”

  “Back then, free booze was enough to get us to sign up for anyone’s party.”

  “Some things never change.” Hope lifted her beer—the beer Dante would never dream of charging either of them for.

  Still wrapped up in the picture, Veda shook her head. “Honestly? I was there because I had a thing for Brock Nailer.”

  Hope shot her a disgusted look.

  “I know,” Veda said. “The only time I ever attended our school’s basketball games was when I knew Blackwater Prep would be playing against us. I stalked the hell out of his MySpace page.” Veda had to pause, taking a moment to appreciate how old she was. Old enough to remember a time when MySpace had been the end all be all of social media. It was how she’d kept tabs on Shadow Rock’s elite, snooping on the rich kids pages obsessively, learning everything about then like a teenybopper would her favorite boy band. “I went to that party for him. Did my hair for him. Put on the makeup for him. Picked the shortest dress on sale at Forever 21 for him. The same dress he’d use to justify attacking me…” Her gaze floated away, close to disappearing into another world completely until a male voice sounded next to the table.

  “Well if it isn’t the morphine angel.”

  From the words alone, Veda already knew she’d find Brock Nailer standing at the foot of their table when she turned her head, but that didn’t stop her mind from blasting back to that night—the night that had been heavily documented on the camera in Hope’s hands right then.

  Brock smiled down at her, brown eyes shining as he pressed the pads of his fingers on the table. He cradled a crutch under his armpit.

  “Brock Nailer,” Veda said, taking in his heavily bandaged leg. “How’s the recovery coming?”

  “Slow…” Brock nodded with a smile. “But sure.”

  Veda snuck a look across the table and saw that Hope’s top lip couldn’t be curled any higher if she tried.

  Veda looked back to Brock. “Glad to see you’re healing.” But don’t get used to it.

  Brock readjusted his hold on the crutch, exposing the 5 tattooed on his wrist. “Penny told me about your grandmother. How’s she holding up?”

  Veda’s eyes fell to that ‘5’, despising the way her number four, a man she was destined to hate, was standing there inquiring about the well-being of her sick grandma.

  She didn’t need this madness in her life. “She’s doing much better, Brock, thank you. Just drove her upstate this morning to be with my parents.”

  “And Gage? He hasn’t been giving you too much grief, has he? I meant what I said the other day, you know. If he’s not treating you right, I’ll cancel the check I just wrote for the pediatric ward so fast his head will spin.”

  “Outside of cutting my hours in half and firing all my friends… He’s been a real ray of sunshine.”

  “That’s it. Check canceled.”

  “No reason for the kids to suffer on account of my failed relationship.”

  “He’s always been vengeful. Gets it from his mother.” Brock searched her gaze, looked back at the bar and then reclaimed her eyes. “You need a job? We’re looking for a new waitress. One who can occasionally double as a barback.” He held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. “Just a little bit of a step down from anesthesiologist but… it’s a job. Pretty good money on weekends at high season and, as the owner of this place, I can guarantee you’ll get the gig.” He winked at her.

  The baby in Veda’s belly begged for a good puke. “I thought Dante was the owner?”

  “I was an early investor. 51%. The silent co-owner.”

  “With just enough stake to ensure Dante has zero control,” Hope jumped in, the revulsion in her voice plain.

  Brock gave Hope a quick glance before moving his eyes back to Veda’s. “The bar is Dante’s in name and spirit. Like I said, I’m just in the background. But I do have enough pull to help out my morphine angel if she’s in need.”

  Veda shifted in her seat. “I could really use the extra money.” Gotta keep a roof over my head if I’m going to remove your balls.

  “Done,” Brock said. “Can you start next Monday?”

  “I can.”

  “I’ll let Dante know and make sure he has the paperwork ready…” Brock smiled softly. “Thank you again, for everything, Dr. Vandyke. I’ll leave you guys to it…”

  Hope watched him go—her top lip craned so high it was a wonder it didn’t become disconnected from her face. Only when Brock was out of earshot, speaking to Dante—who looked at Veda from behind the bar and waved with a bright smile—did Hope speak.

  “What the fuck was that?” Hope demanded.

  “I really do need the money. And I know Dante makes a killing at this bar. Probably even more than I do as a resident. Getting even a 5% cut of his tips will be a step up from the scraps I’m pulling in at the hospital. It’ll keep me afloat until I can finish what I came for.” Veda paused. “Plus, every last one of my attackers patronizes this bar, religiously, for after work drinks. It’ll give me the kind of access that would take months otherwise. I don’t have that kind of time. I need to finish them all before I start to show, and working here will expedite the process. Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t think of applying here sooner.”

  “I’m not talking about you taking the job. Obviously you took it since Gage is about to put you on the street.” Hope nodded toward the bar, where Dante was alone once more. “I’m talking about you hamming it up with that asshole like two old friends. Maybe that crush you had on him is still alive and well?”

  Veda cocked her head back. “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “It’s just…” She sputtered, motioning to the door Brock had just hobbled out of. “Do you see how nice he just was? He’s been like that since the moment I laid eyes on him again. He’s practically a saint, Hope. I couldn’t even be an asshole to him in the burn ward the other day without looking like a complete and utter psychopath to my co-workers.”

  Hope cringed. “The fuck you couldn’t.”

  “Look, once I figure out how to get my hands on some sodium thiopental, Brock will
get what’s coming to him. Believe me. But still… I can’t deny that, with Todd and Eugene, it was… different. I had proof that Todd was still raping women when I cut his nuts out. I had proof Eugene was victimizing under-aged girls who turned tricks on the hill. To top it all off, they were both complete assholes to me right out the gate. Just terrible people, through and through. But Brock?… Jesus.” Veda stumbled. “He’s never said a single rude word to me. He stood up for me when he saw Gage harassing me at work. He’s drowning in philanthropic good deeds and runs a million non-profit organizations, most of which are dedicated to helping sick and disadvantaged children. He even founded an affordable housing organization that keeps poor people on the hill from being displaced now that the Blackwaters have started gentrifying the marina.”

  Boredom gleamed in Hope’s eyes.

  Veda went on. “He didn’t even utter a single word of complaint when he was wheeled into the hospital with half his leg seared off. I’ve seen patients react more dramatically to rubbing alcohol on a paper cut. And his wife,” Veda cried. “His amazing wife—who had the nerve to befriend me. Who’s nothing but a goddamn angel. An angel from heaven who wants nothing more than to get knocked up with a bunch of shitty-diapered, snot-nosed kids that she can chase around, love, and cherish. I can’t help but think that, by fucking Brock over, I’m fucking her over too. I can’t help but think that…” Veda wrung her hands together, squinting one eye at Hope and saying the words she hadn’t even realized had been invading her mind since the moment she’d been reunited with Brock Nailer. “Do you think people can change? Do you think they can… get better?”

  “I think you want to believe, very badly, that if Brock Nailer has changed, then that means another—very specific—person might’ve changed too.”

  Veda’s eyes widened as Hope unearthed and excavated a corner of her brain—and her heart—that she herself hadn’t even dared venture. “This has nothing to do with Gage.”

  Hope raised her eyebrows, appearing bored again as she tilted her head to the side with a deep sigh. “Did Todd Lockwood change?”