Claiming My Vengeance

by Jessica Blake

  The elevator doors slid open soundlessly as she gave me a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Fuck you.”

  I returned her smile just as coldly. “Maybe. If you ask me nicely.”

  My phone rang as I opened the door to Olivia’s suite. It was Brian with updates. I followed her in and settled back in one of the antique Morrison chairs, crossing one leg, watching Olivia as she prowled around the spacious suite of rooms, looking like a caged, exotic cat. Come to think of it, she’d look gorgeous in a jeweled collar and nothing else. I dragged my thoughts away from the image reluctantly.

  “All right, the kid first. How is he? She?”

  “She. Riley Johnson. She’s four. They’re going to release her tomorrow morning. I talked to her parents and made sure they have a place to stay, and they told me to tell you how grateful they were for the, ah, stuffed animal, coloring books, and flowers you sent.”

  “Thank you for thinking of it.”

  Brian cleared his throat, obviously embarrassed. “The other two injuries, an older man named Josef Garcia and his wife, Marilee, are in stable condition. I met in person with their family at the hospital and assured them that we’re taking care of everything, and that Josef and Marilee will have a place to stay and a home nursing staff on-hand when they’re able to go home. I’ve got the rest of the displaced families — there were six of them — all set up in a nearby Ainsley property. I made sure each of them had five thousand dollars in cash for anything they’ll need until the insurance investigation is complete. No one had renter’s insurance. I checked with legal to make sure that was okay, and they found a way to clear it. I hope I didn’t overstep—”

  “No, you’re doing fine. Anything on the suppliers?”

  “Not yet. I’ve got a couple of people going through Devlin Cunningham’s old office, but his records are… messed up, to say the least. It may take a day or two to get any concrete information out of them. I’m taking a stack of stuff home to go through tonight.”

  Liv had stopped her prowling and was perched on the edge of the bed, a four-poster piece covered in a lush gold bedspread painted with peacocks in an Asian design. She was eavesdropping on my phone call and didn’t care that I knew it.

  I glanced at my watch. “It’s almost seven. Leave the files for tomorrow morning and go take your girlfriend out to dinner. Kate, right?”

  Brian sounded surprised that I remembered her name. “Yeah. She’s my fiancée now, actually.”

  I smiled, genuinely pleased for him. “Congratulations. Take Kate to North Pond,” I instructed, naming a pricy little farm-to-table restaurant near Lincoln Park that I used for most of my off-site lunch meetings. “Buy her a fancy bottle of wine, put dinner on your expense card, and have a good night. I appreciate all of your hard work.”

  I ignored Brian’s attempt to thank me and hung up. “Are you hungry?” I asked Olivia.

  She lifted her chin. “I’ll order room service.”

  I lifted my chin right back. “No, you won’t.”

  “You don’t need to take me out and ‘buy me an expensive bottle of wine,’” she mimicked, standing up to pace again. Her long legs ate up the floor in quick strides, and I could tell she was a bundle of irritated, nervous energy.

  “I was thinking more along the lines of a drive-through burger. I have to go by the apartment complex, and I’m not leaving you here.” I told myself it was because I didn’t trust her not to bolt when my back was turned, but honestly, I knew she had more backbone than that. I just didn’t want to let her out of my sight.

  If Liv thought I was joking, she didn’t after we went through a McDonald’s. I ate my burger while driving and caught her looking at me oddly. “What?”

  “Just never pictured billionaire Gabriel Ainsley eating a quarter pounder with that much enthusiasm, I guess.”

  “I haven’t always had money. And food’s food when you’re hungry.”

  Liv bent her head and pushed the bubbles in on the plastic lid of her Coke. I could tell she wanted to ask more, but she’d been doing so well in the silent treatment department, she probably didn’t want to break her streak.

  “Your parents weren’t wealthy?”

  I took a sip of my root beer to hide a grin. The curiosity had won out.

  “No. My dad took off when I was two, and my mom died of cancer when I was six. My grandpa raised me. He was a carpenter.”

  She lifted her head and looked over at me with a hint of sympathy. “I’m sorry about your mother. And your grandfather?”

  “Chester’s still alive. I finally talked him into retiring. What about your parents?” I knew about her mother’s death, but she’d asked about my family, so it was quid pro quo.

  Her face went cold. “Are you digging for information about Joel or Devlin?”

  “No. Tell me about your mom and dad.”

  “There’s not a lot to tell. My dad was killed in Afghanistan when I was just a few months old. My mom raised me after that. She died when I was sixteen.”

  My hand tightened on the steering wheel. “What were their names?”

  “Mark and Bridget,” she answered quietly.

  “Tell me about them.”

  She hesitated, looking out the car window at the passing storefronts. “Why do you want to know?”

  I shrugged. “Just curious. We’ve still got some drive time ahead of us.”

  She didn’t look away from the window, so I focused on the light traffic ahead of us. “I just have a few old pictures of my dad, stories my mom told me, and a couple of his medals. He liked old movies. Proposed to my mom at a Detroit Tigers game. Drove a motorcycle.”

  “A Ducati?”

  “Yeah.”

  She went quiet, and I didn’t say anything either, almost sorry now that I had asked in the first place. I only wanted to picture Olivia in two capacities: my bed or helping me catch Devlin. But this quick look beneath her hard exterior was surprisingly compelling.

  “It sounds cliché, but thank you for his service. What about your mom?”

  Olivia’s lips quirked in a sad half-grin. “Cliché or not, thank you. Mom was fun. Beautiful. Curious. Always wanting to do things, go places, try new experiences. Before… when it was just the two of us, she never had a lot of money and usually worked two jobs, but I remember this one day so clearly when she took me ice skating. She was trying to teach me how, but she kept falling, and pretty soon, she was laughing so hard, she couldn’t stand back up. So, we just ended up drinking hot chocolate and watching everyone else. It doesn’t sound like much, but I remember it so clearly still, and I was only five.”

  I slowed down, hit the turn signal. We were almost there, and part of me wanted to pull a U-turn. Keep on driving, just listening to that slightly husky, hypnotic voice of hers. But beside me, Olivia gasped. “God, tell me that’s not it.”

  Grimly, my knuckles tight on the steering wheel, I pulled over to the curb. Caution tape fluttered in the evening breeze, blocking the sidewalk, and the eight-unit apartment building loomed upward, windows broken out from where firefighters had battled the flames. Blackened curtains fluttered out of the one on the very top floor, and soot stained the brick around the window frame. The building looked like a total loss.

  I welcomed the swell of fury that rolled over me as I looked at the destruction of one of my pet housing projects. I’d bought the property at an inflated price from a slum lord and updated it, making it attractive and functional again, keeping it affordable. I thought it was a safe place for the tenants who lived there, raising families or enjoying their retirement years. And now it was just a burned-out pile of bricks. Eight families were homeless, and three people were injured. Abruptly, I restarted the car and pulled away from the curb.

  “We’re leaving? Why did you drive almost an hour across town just to look at this for two minutes?”

  I didn’t look at Olivia.

  “We drove all the way here because I had to see in person what your stepbrother had done. And I wanted
you to see it too.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Liv

  The accusing way Gabe said that last part cut me deep, for reasons I wasn’t about to examine. I was already thrown off balance, first by talking about my parents, and then by seeing that burned out shell of a building, knowing that people had been injured and traumatized in that very spot only a matter of hours before. There had still been faint plumes of smoke rising from whatever had been smoldering inside.

  “Why do you say that like I have anything at all to do with this? Joel was your partner. Devlin worked with you. I live four hours away, have had absolutely nothing to do with these people since I was a teenager. I’d say that puts the onus on you, more than me.”

  “Because,” he burst out, his stubbled jaw tense as he gripped the steering wheel hard enough to leave his knuckles bone white. “Devlin is responsible for this too. Your lowlife, asshole family member is the reason a four-year-old little girl is in the hospital right now, along with a couple of grandparents. He was running a con, just like his father, but his had dangerous consequences. He oversaw handling orders for materials, interfacing with contractors. He ordered shit materials and charged Ainsley Holdings the price of the best. He forced good contracting companies into using the shit materials by threatening them in my name. He’s the reason the wiring in this building was faulty, and dammit, he had access to hundreds of other projects. What happened there could happen again and again. You have to know something. You have to be able to help somehow.”

  “And who was his boss?” It was a low blow, and I knew it as soon as the words left my lips.

  Gabe shot me a fulminating glare.

  “Don’t think I don’t feel culpability here. Ainsley Holdings is my company, and I’m ultimately responsible for everything that goes on within it. But can’t you see that I’m trying to do whatever it takes to bring Devlin down?”

  “Including dragging me here by blackmailing me with the possible firing of a single mother of three kids. I get it. You’re ruthless. But are you going after Devlin just to hold him accountable? To make sure tragedies like this don’t happen again? You didn’t even know about the substandard materials thing until yesterday. And for all you know, Devlin’s in Tahiti, spending your money and drinking strawberry daiquiris on the beach. I think you’re just hell-bent on claiming your vengeance now that Joel’s out of your reach, and you’re willing to use any excuse and anyone you can to get your hands on him, and damn the consequences.”

  Gabe stopped the car for a red light with a hard foot on the brake and looked at me, his face a blank mask. I had my answer. “Does it matter? Either way, the results will be the same.”

  “You’re a cold man, Gabriel.”

  I stared blindly out the car window, willing my heartbeat to slow. I was furious. With myself, mostly, for not digging deeper years ago and knocking Devlin down with Joel. I talked big about Gabe and his responsibility, but I was just as responsible, honestly, for the apartment fire. If I’d reported what happened with Devlin back then, gone to the police, if I’d done more research, gone after Devlin as hard as I had his father and tied him into the same crimes, they could both be sitting in jail right then.

  I was also furious with Gabriel for dragging me into this. For being such a controlling, ruthless bastard. For being willing to use me, with apparently no qualms. I knew he had a heart under that diamond-hard exterior because I’d seen it in his interactions with his assistant, the way he obviously wanted the victims of the apartment fire to be taken care of, and in how he’d talked about his grandpa. It just wasn’t evident in his dealings with me.

  That was fine, I decided. I could be just as cold and unfeeling.

  Gabe didn’t know it, but I had reason to see Devlin behind bars too. I’d put together the evidence needed to take down Joel, hit send on it all, and walked away, trusting the authorities to do the rest.

  But I still had the skills, and with Gabriel’s help, the access I needed to get Devlin.

  ***

  It was dark when we reached the St. Clair. “Just let me out in front.”

  Gabe opened his mouth to say something but clenched his jaw and pulled up at the curb instead. The doorman out front hurried out to get my door.

  “Give me a day to think some things through,” I said into the brittle silence, a cool night breeze blowing into the car through the open door. “And if I’m going to help you with this, I’ll need some things.”

  “I’ll pay you.”

  The words, delivered in a flat tone, made me angry all over again.

  “Fuck your money,” I spat, and the doorman, still hovering in case I needed help getting out of the car, retreated to his post in a hurry. “I don’t need your money and I sure as hell don’t want it. What I will need is some basic trust, though. Plus, a laptop and access to your company’s network and all files.”

  Gabe didn’t look at me. He just stared straight ahead and gave me a clipped nod.

  I felt better that I was at least taking some semblance of control back in the situation. I pulled out my phone. “Give me your number.” He rattled it off, and I sent him a text so he’d have mine.

  Without another word, I closed the door, and he pulled away, the taillights of the Mercedes gleaming red. The uniformed doorman took a hesitant step forward, and I gave him an apologetic smile. “I’m a guest here, but I’m just going to take a walk. I’ve got a little irritation to work off.”

  He nodded. “My name is Jeremy. Please do let me know if I can be of assistance, Ms. Redmond. Mr. St. Clair has requested that, as a guest of his and Mr. Ainsley’s, you be exceptionally well taken care of.”

  That galled.

  Constantly feeling as if the hotel staff was watching my every move? Thanks, but no thanks. However, it wasn’t Jeremy’s fault. I smiled again, even though the effort it took was monumental, and headed east toward the lake. The wind was blowing from the direction of the lake, and it gave me goose bumps, but the chill took the edge off the heat of my anger.

  It was Sunday night, but no one had told the people on the streets. In this posh part of town, expensive bars and nightclubs were still hopping, and there were enough people out and about that it could be mistaken for a Saturday night.

  The last several days seemed like a month, but I felt some of the stress ease as I headed down the sidewalk at a fast clip. I needed to find out if the St. Clair had gym facilities. Otherwise, I would have to push back the furniture in the sitting room just to get some exercise in. It was the best way I knew of to work off nervous energy… well, apart from sex. Unwillingly, the picture of Gabe sprawled in the chair at The Red Stripe came to mind, and my breasts tightened.

  The breeze was stronger now, smelling of Lake Michigan, and I slowed a little, glancing around. I’d already walked nearly a mile and recognized the beachfront park across from Gabe’s apartment building. I looked up at the huge metal and glass building, most of the windows lit against the darkness of the summer night. Abruptly, I felt like an idiot, standing outside of Gabriel Ainsley’s home like a teenager trying to catch a glimpse of a boy she liked. I turned around, intent on walking back, and nearly ran into a man behind me.

  “Jesus, watch out, lady.”

  I sidestepped, muttering an apology, and he hurried past me, a short, stocky figure in a dark, hooded sweatshirt. I was suddenly as cold as if I’d been dropped in an icy pool of water, and it had nothing to do with the light rain that had begun to fall. As I watched, the man slowed about a half a block away and looked over his shoulder. I couldn’t see his face. It was too dark and shadowed from the streetlight by his hood.

  Was I completely batshit paranoid? Was that Devlin? The voice was similar. So was the build. But a lot of men had short, stocky builds and gravelly voices.

  Suddenly, I didn’t care if it was or if it wasn’t him. I wanted to be back at the St. Clair, locked tightly in my room. Better yet, I wanted to be an entire state away, only having to worry about whether Janie would show
up for her waitressing shift the next day or not.

  I started walking quickly back the way I’d come, wishing I’d never met Gabriel Ainsley. I wanted to turn around. See if I was being followed. My neck prickled, and I began to sweat.

  Nerves hammering at me, I started running, my boots thudding against the sidewalk. I hated running, but I forced myself to do it back home, three to five miles at a time, three or four times a week, though not usually in combat boots and jeans. Still, my muscles started to warm and loosen, my breathing evened, and I found my rhythm.

  Dodging a few pedestrians rushing to get out of the rain, I passed a homeless man pushing a cart heaped high with plastic bags before crossing against the traffic light without waiting for the crosswalk signal. Finally, I slowed, nearing the St. Clair.

  I looked behind me. No one was there. Not that I had expected someone to be, I told myself, but it didn’t help. I’d been thoroughly spooked.

  Jeremy, the doorman, was waiting to welcome me back from my walk, and if he noticed that I was slightly out of breath and strands of my hair were sticking wetly to my hot cheeks, he didn’t comment. “A delivery came for you while you were gone. Kendra has it for you at the front desk. Have a good night, Ms. Redmond,” he said as he held the door open for me.

  “Thank you, Jeremy. You too.”

  I crossed the empty lobby, aware of the soggy squeak of my boots on the marble. The black-clad, smiling receptionist handed over a laptop bag and a manila envelope, and I thanked her.

  Gabe moved quickly, I noted, not for the first time. I was going to follow his example. Rather than wait for the elevator, I jogged up the stairs to the sixth floor. Only after I was in my hotel room, the door locked securely behind me, breathing heavily, did I drop the laptop and envelope, sink down to the floor, and start to shake.

  I wanted to go home.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Gabe

  “Boy, what in the hell is going on?”