Revenge

by Meli Raine

  “I’m off to an interview for an internship,” he explains.

  “Internship? And an interview this early?”

  He shrugs. “It’s at a hospital. For nursing classes. It’s a formality.”

  “Chase finishes most of his coursework this semester and then he gets to do his rotations. He’ll have his RN in a year,” she declares proudly.

  He dips his head, clearly embarrassed, and gives a wave goodbye. A few seconds later I hear a motorcycle engine start. The sound fades as Allie motions for me to sit with her.

  “You woke up to a note from Mark, didn’t you? I hate that. It sucks when they do that. Leave you a note that doesn’t make any sense.” She makes a sour face.

  “You knew?”

  “Mark came up here, grabbed a cup of coffee, and took off. He asked me to drive you home.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you. I—” I have no idea what to say.

  She puts her hand on my arm. “It’s okay. It’ll be nice to get to know each other on the drive. Besides, I owe Mark.”

  I give her one of those nervous smiles where you feel grateful and a little awkward because the other person is about to do you a huge favor.

  “And you’re pretty cool, Carrie. I can tell.”

  My phone buzzes. It’s a text from Effie:

  Please tell Carrie she really needs to see me when she comes home. This is Effie Cummings leaving a message.

  I laugh. Allie’s eyebrows go up.

  “An old lady who acts like texting is leaving a message with an old-fashioned answering service.”

  We giggle and she looks at her phone. “We need to get moving if I’m going to get back in time for my shift at the restaurant.” Mark mentioned Allie worked at a small diner.

  Ten minutes later we’re in her little brown car, driving south toward Yates. Allie’s a pleasant person to be quiet with. Peaceful. She plays the radio and we just drive as I let my mind go over everything it needs to process. She’s packed thermoses of coffee and I drink, needing the stimulation.

  By the time we’re outside the city limits, I realize she might think I’m rude for being so quiet.

  “Hey,” I say, breaking the solitude. “I’m sorry. I’m not much of a conversationalist.”

  “It’s okay. Neither is Chase. I’m used to being with quiet people.”

  “I’m actually not quiet by nature,” I explain. “It’s just, the past days have been...well...”

  “Trust me, Carrie. If anyone understands, it’s me.”

  Traffic is surprisingly light this early, and we get into downtown Yates fast.

  “You don’t need to drive all the way across town,” I tell Allie. “I just need a ride here, and then I can get home.”

  “Here” is right in front of my dad’s old bar, which is currently teeming with tons of early-morning coffee customers. My dream from this morning hits me, like being smacked between the eyes by a two-by-four. It all comes back to me—Amy, the door, the light shining around it, the weird dark circle.

  I shiver. It’s like I go back to that dark place right now. My skin feels so sensitive. A cloud of doom fills my head.

  “The Coffee Freak? Sounds interesting.” Allie’s words feel like they’re coming from far away. She doesn’t seem to notice I’m falling apart in front of her.

  I have to pretend I’m fine. “They have good pastries. Let me buy you breakfast. C’mon. It’s the least I can do.” I struggle to keep the terror out of my voice.

  She smiles and looks at the time. “Okay. I have twenty minutes.”

  We walk in to find Mikey at the counter, brewing espresso. “Carrie!” he calls out. “Good to see you. What’s your poison?”

  “You know what I drink, Mikey,” I snap. I follow it with a smile as I try to be normal.

  He gives me a salute, then says, “Yeah, but what does your hot friend drink?” He winks at Allie. One of the other guys working the coffee machines makes a low sound of suggestion.

  “Her hot friend is engaged to a guy who would rip your head off and drink your blood for breakfast if he heard you say that,” Allie says pleasantly. Her tone is so different from the violence in her words that everyone in the line goes silent.

  Mikey turns bright red. He jumps, then fishes his phone out of his pocket. He turns away and ignores us.

  “Just a regular latte is fine,” she adds sweetly. “Plus two cinnamon scones. You like cinnamon, right?” she asks me.

  I nod, a bit speechless.

  “Engaged?” I ask.

  Allie’s turn to redden. “I don’t have a ring. Not yet. But he proposed last month. We’re planning for a winter wedding.”

  I reach for her hand. “Congratulations! That’s wonderful!”

  “Thanks.”

  The other guy at the counter gives us our drinks. I pay and throw a generous tip into the jar. Allie finds a loveseat we can share, and we stuff our faces.

  The scone starts to taste like soap powder as I remember my dream. Oh, my God. The door. The round circle. The cool darkness.

  It’s right here.

  Literally, right here.

  My dream took me to the old underground storage room in the back of Dad and Brian’s bar.

  Which is now this coffeehouse.

  Chapter Thirty

  I realize Mikey’s glaring at us. His face is twisted with something so bitter. I’ve never seen it before.

  “Carrie?” Allie’s voice is sharp. She looks from me to Mikey. “Is he bothering you?”

  “Mikey?” I laugh, but then I choke on my own feeling of overwhelm. “No, no. I’ve been babysitting Mikey since he was a baby. He’s harmless. That comment he made to you was just a seventeen-year-old boy being bold.”

  She snorts. “I work in a breakfast diner with construction workers. That was nothing.”

  Why’s he glaring at me like this?

  I realize he’s texting someone. Probably Elaine. He’s probably all butthurt because Allie made him look like a fool in front of his coworkers and I didn’t defend him. I’ll soothe the rough feelings later.

  “Mark’s here in town, right?” Allie asks, finishing her scone. She looks around and rubs the scar on her arm. “I don’t want to leave you unless he’s around to help.”

  I check my phone. There’s a text from him.

  Go back to the trailer. I got more information from my director. You might need to see Chief Cummings about the dog, though. Don’t go to the station without me.

  And then a heart.

  “Yeah, he’s here,” I assure her. “He says he’ll see me at my trailer.”

  “I’m glad you’re not alone, Carrie. Mark’s a good guy.”

  I decide not to play any games with her. “You know about Chase and Mark’s dad, right?”

  “You mean Galt?” Her eyebrows go up.

  I nod.

  “Oh, yeah. I know plenty about Galt.” Her face twists with disgust. “He’s the reason we’re on the run. Well, him and El Brujo. Sometimes, I’m not sure which one is worse.”

  “What happened with Mark and Chase’s dad?”

  “Galt wants Chase dead for leaving the motorcycle gang,” she says flatly.

  “Whoa.”

  “Right. And El Brujo, well...he didn’t like having me taken away from him, which is what Chase and Mark did. He got a bunch of money and drugs that my stepfather had stored in our house, and Mark says I don’t have to worry about him anymore, but...” She sighs. “That’s why Chase’s hair is dark.” She touches her red hair. “And why I dyed mine auburn.”

  “You’re not a natural redhead?”

  She smiles. “No. My real hair is the color of a crow’s feather.”

  My mind races. “Which means you normally look like all the missing women.”

  She nods sadly. “You noticed? Mark called Chase as soon as the pattern was detected and Chase ran to the drugstore right away. You know how hard it is to dye hair in a pop-up camper sink?”

  I grimace.

  �
�Yeah,” she says sadly. “But, hey, that’s life.”

  I think about that for a few seconds as we sip our coffees. “Is it really, Allie?” I finally ask. “Is this how life is just supposed to be? You and Chase moving all the time. Chase being worried his own dad will get him. All these people terrorized by El Brujo. Mark working undercover like this.” I lower my voice to a whisper for the last sentence. “Aren’t you lonely?”

  She frowns. “No. Not lonely. I used to be. Before I met Chase.” She sighs. “But no. It sucks moving so much. And Chase gets jumpy if I’m even a few minutes late. But if we were really worried, he wouldn’t be in college.”

  “He’s in college under his real name?”

  She looks away. “No. He changed his legal name. Mark helped him. But I still call him Chase.”

  My body feels boneless and heavy at the same time. Is this my future? Running away from everyone to hide? Is Dean Landau that all-powerful? And if Chase and Mark’s dad is this dangerous, what might he do to Mark?

  And then there’s the storage room....

  “Look,” she says, standing suddenly. “I have to go. I’m on the lunch shift at eleven, and...”

  I give her a great big hug, then fish around in my purse for money. “Let me pay you for gas.”

  She waves the money away. “No.”

  “C’mon!”

  “Mark covered it,” she says, looking at the ground.

  “Oh.” Of course he did.

  She hugs me again. “Stay safe. Be careful. Do what Mark says.”

  “He train you to say that?”

  She laughs as she leaves, then calls out, “Maybe!”

  As she disappears around the corner I feel like half my happiness just walked away.

  Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. Mikey’s back is to me. I stand and walk up to the counter. The line has died down.

  “Hey, Mikey,” I say.

  “Hey.”

  “I have a question. Can I come back here?”

  He tenses. His behavior is weirder and weirder.

  “Sure.” He opens the half-door separating the counter from the sitting area. I pass him and walk into the back. While the main eating area is different, behind the scenes so much remains the same from the days of Dad and Brian running the bar.

  I lead him to the old storage room. And...there it is.

  If you don’t know the little underground hatch is there, you’d never be able to find it. The handle just looks like a piece of metal stuck in the cement. An area rug is thrown over it. I move the rug.

  “What are you doing?” Mikey asks in a choked voice.

  “Shhhh,” I say. I lift the rod and click—the door starts to open. It opens easily and makes no sound.

  “You still store stuff down here? When I was a kid, this is where Dad and Brian kept all the really expensive wines.” I lift the door and see the stairs leading down. A blast of air hits me full in the face.

  It smells exactly like it did in my dream.

  “We keep boxes and some other things in there,” he says nervously. “Nothing important. Lots of leftover paperwork from the bar. The stuff my mom and dad weren’t allowed to clear out. I don’t think you should be in there, Carrie,” he says, his eyes darting all over the place. “You don’t work here.”

  “I just want to take a look.” I give him what I hope is a sweet smile. “For old time’s sake. You know. Nostalgia.”

  He looks at his phone. Swallows. Looks at me.

  “Okay.”

  I take a few steps down. The stairs go down at a slight spiral, and within five steps my body’s half in. I flip the light switch.

  It doesn’t work.

  “No lights?” I ask.

  “They rewired everything.” His voice actually cracks. I haven’t heard that happen since he was thirteen. “Light switch is up here.”

  A strange scent floats up. Like warm copper.

  “Come on out of there, Carrie,” he says in a high voice.

  “Why?” A tingly feeling covers my skin. Mikey’s acting very, very weird.

  I take three more steps down. I’m completely in the storage space. All the wine bottles I remember from being a kid are gone. Huge bags of green coffee beans are in here. Without the lights working, it’s hard to see anything else.

  Two more steps and I peer into the darkness.

  And then the light begins to narrow.

  I look up.

  Mikey has the hatch mostly closed, his eyes on mine.

  They’re black as coal.

  “I told you not to go down there,” he says in a voice made of ice.

  And then he shuts the door on me.

  Click.

  I’m in pitch blackness. There is no light. The smell of warm copper is stronger now. The air has a humid feeling that is terrifying and out of place. My heart starts to pump in panic. Without light, I become disoriented.

  “Mikey!” I call up. “MIKEY!”

  A flash of memory hits me: when I was seven, I got stuck in here. Dad didn’t know I’d followed him in, and when he’d left, he closed the hatch. It had taken over an hour to find me.

  Dad’s words fill me with horror now:

  “It’s as good as soundproofed down there, baby girl. You never, ever go in there without me, understand?”

  I’m trapped now. No one can hear me.

  “MIKEY! SOMEONE! HELP!” I scream. I know it’s useless, but panic makes me try.

  All I can hear is the sound of my own heart slamming against my chest. My breath, coming out in great, frantic whoops. I feel around in the dark to find my way. I know the storage area is enormous, larger than the first floor of our old house.

  I grab my phone. It has eleven percent battery life left. That’s what I get for never charging it properly. I try to text Mark.

  No signal.

  I try to call.

  No signal.

  I try to check email, tapping on any app that might get me to communicate with the outside world.

  No signal.

  I turn on the flashlight and shine it all around.

  Boxes. Bags of coffee beans. That’s it.

  I climb back up the stairs and bang on the hatch until the base of my hand starts to bleed. It’s useless.

  And then I hear shuffling sounds.

  Right behind me.

  I whirl around, my only weapon my cell phone.

  The light illuminates a figure, on the ground, crawling toward me.

  “OH MY GOD!” I scream, scrambling away.

  It’s a human. It’s a woman. She’s moving, dragging herself toward me. I back up and slip on the slippery ground. My arm is wet suddenly.

  I look down. It’s blood.

  “Who are you?” I demand, shouting. I’m loud because I’m freaking out.

  “Carrie?” the voice says softly. “Is that you, Carrie?”

  My legs go numb, the sensation spreading up from my ankles to the top of my head.

  I shine the light on the figure coming at me.

  It’s Amy.

  “Amy?” I gasp, running to her. She’s on the floor, her face covered in dried and fresh blood, her business suit torn and tattered. She’s filthy, one eye swollen shut, deep gouges in the skin of her face.

  I reach down to try to hold her and she screams.

  More blood. It’s warm.

  I look down.

  She’s missing an arm. There’s a gauze bandage soaked with burgundy and dried a rust color at the edges. It’s just...gone.

  Someone cut it off.

  “He’s coming,” she hisses. Her eye looks glassy as she meets mine. The wet metallic smell I’ve detected is clear now. It’s the scent of her blood. As I try to hold her up I smell something else. The odor of rot. The scent of infection.

  “Who’s coming?” I beg. “Oh, God, Amy, what happened to you? Who is he? Why are you in here? Where’s your arm? How can you have no arm?”

  And then she faints.

  * * *


  Read the stunning conclusion to the Coming Home series in REUNION, the third book in the trilogy:

  You can think you’ve had everything stolen from you. That there’s nothing left to lose.

  You would be wrong.

  My best friend’s been kidnapped. I was just captured. What I thought was a massive drug operation run by a man who killed my father turns out to be ten times more horrific.

  I’m trapped. My best friend may be dead.

  And Mark has no idea where to find me.

  Some secrets should remain buried, my captors tell me.

  And it looks like I will be, too.

  Buried alive.

  Get REUNION right now.

  Also by Meli Raine

  Suggested Reading Order

  The Breaking Away Series

  Finding Allie

  Chasing Allie

  Keeping Allie

  The Coming Home Series

  RETURN

  REVENGE

  REUNION

  About the Author

  Meli Raine rode her first motorcycle when she was five years old, but she played in the ocean long before that. She lives in New England with her family. Visit her on Facebook at http://www.facebook.com/meliraine

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