Claiming My Vengeance

by Jessica Blake

  Gabe’s grandpa looked away from the wheel for a nerve-wracking second, meeting my eyes. “Yep. He wanted us both out of the way, so he didn’t have to worry about us, I’m guessing.” My sharp, indrawn breath had him bringing his attention back to the road, where a delivery truck was double-parked a few hundred feet in front of us. He cleared it on the left, with inches to spare, and I was incredibly grateful when he turned right into the underground parking garage immediately after.

  “You’re some driver, Chester,” I commented a little breathlessly as he hurtled into a handicap-designated parking place. “Like, Formula One quality.”

  “Just seeing what you were made of.” He grinned, pulling a hangtag out of the glove box and fastening it to his rearview mirror. “You didn’t holler once on the ride over, and that tells me you’ve got some spine in there. You’ll need it to deal with my grandson.”

  Tight-lipped, I shook my head and grabbed my bags out of the back seat. “I’m not dealing with your grandson for much longer.”

  “Maybe I can shed some light for you on why he’s such an ass most of the time.”

  I followed Chester into the building. Finding out why Gabe was an ass was the only appealing thing about this whole situation right now.

  In Gabriel’s apartment, Chester headed straight for the fridge. “You want something to drink?”

  “Sure. I could use a beer to settle my nerves after that little stunt driving demonstration you just gave me.” We settled on the couch and Chester kicked his booted feet up on Gabe’s expensive-looking glass and chrome coffee table.

  “So, it’s because of a woman.” There wasn’t really a segue into the conversation. Gabe’s grandpa believed in speaking bluntly, apparently. I took a sip of my beer, interested despite myself.

  “Isn’t it always because of a woman?”

  My words were meant to be teasing, but he only nodded soberly.

  “Women are a lot of trouble.” The twinkle in his eye gave him away. “I gotta go back a bit, though. Gabe used to be an incredible football player. He played defensive line all through high school and went to college on a scholarship. Football was his whole life. I tried to get him focused on other things, but the boy had so much energy in him that he couldn’t sit still long enough to learn, seemed like. Scouts for the pro teams were already putting eyes on him, though, until he met Natalie his junior year.”

  Playing with the label on the sweaty beer bottle, I turned more fully on the couch to face the older man. “What happened?”

  “I’d given him a car when he made the dean’s list one semester. A ’66 Mustang. Cherry red with a white ragtop.” His eyes went misty with memory. “Gabe babied that thing just as much as I always did. Put whitewall tires on it, waxed it pretty near every weekend. Well, one weekend around homecoming, he took that girl of his out to a party. There was an accident on the way home. About rolled the car, hit a tree. Wrecked the boy’s knee.”

  “Were they drinking?” College kids were stupid, and even though Gabe didn’t seem the type to drink and drive, back then, he could have been very different.

  “Gabe wasn’t,” Chester replied flatly. “Oh, he told me he had been, but I knew he was lying. I talked to the police later on, and the breathalyzer on him was clean. Turned out that Natalie was driving it, and he switched places with her so she wouldn’t get in trouble. Plus, there was… bloodstains on the seat where they could see he’d dragged himself over.”

  I winced at the brutal image his words evoked. “Pretty traumatic thing for a kid to go through. So, that ruined his football career, and that’s why he’s the way he is?”

  “Oh, it wasn’t just the accident or the three surgeries after. It wasn’t just about him not being able to play anymore. The girlfriend just up and left him while he was in the hospital, made up stories about what happened and spread them around campus. I don’t know if she thought he’d eventually tell on her, or what, but her timing was shit. Pardon my French.”

  “Nice way to reward misplaced chivalry.”

  Chester dropped his eyes from mine, fiddling with the remote on the side table, pressing random buttons. “Gabe doesn’t know that I know. That it wasn’t him driving, I mean.”

  I thought that one over a second. Suddenly, a lot of things made sense. “You’re telling me that Gabe thinks that you still think he got drunk and wrecked your cherished car? Why the hell haven’t you talked to him about it? He’s probably had that hanging over his head all these years.”

  “I haven’t found the right time. After, when he was trying to figure out something else to do with his life, he was ornerier than a bear with a bee up its ass, and it was all I could do to get him out of the house and interested in anything else. And then, well, he got so obsessed with doing everything he could to make himself successful, that I didn’t want to remind him of what he went through to get there. He made something of himself,” Chester finished weakly. “That should count for something.”

  “Sure. He made something of himself because he felt like he owed it to you, because of what happened one shitty night.”

  “Regardless,” the old man grunted. “He turned out just fine.”

  “Trust me…” I sighed, feeling sorry for him, but at the same time irritated by what were apparently Ainsley personality traits, “the past doesn’t stay buried, even if you don’t talk about it.”

  “You sound like you know from experience.”

  I met his gaze but couldn’t hold it, turning my attention back to the beer. “I do. That’s the whole reason I’m sitting here right now. You need to talk to him.”

  “Not now. He’s dealing with all that bullshit the Cunninghams left him with.”

  “When are you going to do it then?” I leaned forward, pressing the point. “It’s not like you two have found time to bring up the topic in the last several years. Are you going to let him work himself to death trying to atone for something he never even did?”

  Chester shrugged, his shoulders looking more slumped than they did before. But he seemed to rally and looked up at me with a glint in his eye. “You remind me of my wife, Becky. I always thought Gabe should find a woman like her. She was sweet and kindhearted, but she had this way of cutting through the crap.”

  “I’m super flattered, but don’t you get any ideas. Your grandson and I would kill each other within a week.” I set the beer bottle down on the table and jumped up. “You want some chips or something? Cheese and crackers? Gabe had groceries delivered the other day, so I know there’s food in the cupboards.”

  “Becky was always making sure I ate too,” Chester said, his gaze clouding in reminiscence. “Do you know how to cook?”

  I waggled a finger at him. “Look. I’m the owner of a bar that happens to be located close to three-hundred miles from here. I’ve got a life back in Detroit. Quit trying to matchmake. It’s not gonna happen.”

  Making him drop the subject clearly wasn’t going to happen either.

  “Becky was running her parents’ grocery store in Little Rock when I met her. I always thought a working woman was better able to take care of a house later on, especially with a little business management experience under her belt.”

  “Chester, will you do me a favor?”

  “Yes, Olivia?” He grinned at me unrepentantly, and I couldn’t help but smile back. He was annoying, gruff, and far too much like Gabe, and I couldn’t help but like the guy.

  “Shut up.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Gabe

  I heard my own voice coming from inside my apartment when I finally got home, a little after ten o’clock. When I opened the door, Olivia and Chester were watching TV. One of the local news stations was showing highlights of the press conference I’d participated in earlier in the day.

  “Shut that off, will you?”

  “Whoa.” Chester chuckled, turning halfway around to look at me in the doorway. “It’s like stereo surround sound. I’ve got Gabe’s voice in both of my ears.”

/>   Olivia laughed, pushing a strand of hair out of her face. She looked up at me, the smile fading a little, but my body reacted instantly. Her cheeks were flushed pink and her dark eyes glittered.

  “Seriously?” I grabbed the remote and turned the TV off, taking in the empty bottles on the table, a deck of cards between my grandpa and Olivia, who was sprawled in the corner of the couch, comfortably barefoot. “Are you two drunk?”

  Chester cleared his throat and tried to look sober. “It’s Liv’s fault.” Olivia protested, and they started bickering between themselves, as comfortable as if they’d known each other for years.

  “Dammit to hell and back, this is all I need. Come on, Gramps, we’re driving you home.”

  Surprisingly, Chester nodded owlishly, not arguing with me. “I did have a few too many. Mrs. Blakely’s going to have a fit when I get home. I’ll ask her to drive me back tomorrow to pick up my car.”

  I herded the two of them into the Mercedes and left the windows down, hoping the cool night air would sober them up. Olivia and Chester chatted the whole way home, apparently best friends after their forced companionship of the afternoon.

  “Gabe, I think you should keep this one.”

  “Chester, she’s not a stray cat and we’re not a thing.”

  “Nope,” Olivia agreed from in the back of the Mercedes, accompanying the word with a long hiss. “We went over this earlier. Gabe isn’t my type.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Chester demanded as I couldn’t help but wonder the same thing.

  “I don’t have time to make a list for you,” Olivia responded, her voice breezy. I met her eyes in the rearview mirror, wondering if she’d told my grandpa about our argument that morning. She looked back at me, unsmiling, and I realized she wasn’t as tipsy as I’d originally thought, and a few beers hadn’t made her forget she was pissed off at me. My grandpa, though, was another story. He was tanked.

  “You know, son,” he sighed. “I don’t think I’ve thanked you for hiring Mrs. Blakely. She’s a fine woman.”

  “Yeah, Gabriel.” Olivia’s eyes lit a little with mischief. “You should probably know that Chester and Elva have a thing going on. You might have a stepgrandma soon.”

  “She won’t marry me,” Chester said glumly. “I’m good enough to share a bed with, but not good enough to be her husband, apparently.”

  My hands jerked on the steering wheel. “Why the hell would you put that image in my head?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” Olivia demanded. “Two consenting adults enjoying a mutually satisfying physical relationship?”

  “That woman is a wildcat in bed,” Chester added wistfully.

  I pictured tiny, white-haired Elva with her soft, wrinkled face and kind eyes… wearing only her ruffled gingham apron and nothing else. Not to mention Chester naked. Urk. I glared at Olivia in the mirror, silently promising retribution. She didn’t so much as flutter an eyelash.

  “Chester,” she asked sweetly, instead. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase ‘why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?’”

  “Olivia—” I was going to strangle her.

  “You could be right. Dan, down at the VFW, said as how I should have put a ring on it first. But living in the same house with all that sexual tension, Elva and I just got carried away one night when we were watching Jeopardy. She’s got a real thing for that Alex Trebek.”

  “Get out, Gramps.”

  “Home already?” he chuckled, obviously enjoying the novelty of traumatizing his adult grandson, and opened the door. “Well, look at that… Elva’s out waiting for me. Maybe I’ll see if she’s up for a little slap and tickle. I’m feeling frisky.”

  Sure enough, the little elderly woman was sitting on the porch swing doing needlework. I was never going to have sex again, and I was also going to check Amazon when I got home to see if brain bleach had been invented yet. Grandpa waved and swaggered up the sidewalk, weaving just a little bit.

  “Get in the front seat, Olivia.”

  “I’m fine back here, thanks.” Her voice shook with suppressed laughter.

  “Now.”

  Olivia finally obliged, probably hearing the unspoken threat in that one word. “Sorry I got your grandpa drunk.” She buckled her seat belt and pulled out her phone, and I glanced down.

  “How the hell do you have thirty-seven missed calls?”

  “Wrong number?” she replied flippantly, not looking up at me as I pulled away from the curb, deleting voicemails without listening to them.

  “Devlin?”

  She shrugged.

  “Look. I’m sorry about this morning.”

  “You don’t owe me an apology. In fact, you don’t owe me anything.” Her tone could have flash-frozen a penguin.

  “Whether I do or not, I am sorry.” She didn’t respond, and I let it go. I’d said I was sorry, and to me, that was enough.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, noticing that I was taking a different way home.

  “I want to drive by where you saw Devlin earlier.” The thought, again, of the risk she’d taken… I bit back a curse. “Are you sure he saw you?”

  “He saw me.”

  We drove the rest of the way in silence, until we reached the row house and I slowed down as we passed. “There was a black car out front. A Chevy Cruze, maybe.”

  “Was it the same car that almost hit you?”

  “I couldn’t tell.”

  There was no black car now, and no lights on in the house. Devlin had likely moved on. An unmarked police cruiser drove by us, going in the opposite direction, driving slowly, and the officer inside nodded at me as they passed. I recognized him from a meeting I’d had with the Chicago PD a few months before. I assumed they’d be keeping a pretty vigilant eye out.

  When I’d spoken with Detective Kincaid earlier, I’d mentioned he might be dealing with an attempted vehicular manslaughter charge on top of the financial crimes, and he assured me they’d do everything they could to collar Devlin.

  “Are you okay? After seeing him, I mean?”

  Liv looked at me for a moment. Her face was unreadable as she tried to judge my sincerity, maybe.

  “Scared the shit out of me,” she finally admitted. “He’s one of the only things that still does.”

  “Next time you get a lead or something, you need to call me before you fly off all half-cocked.”

  “So you can catch him?”

  “No. So you’re not alone. You seem to have this thing for conquering everything that scares you, and I admire the hell out of you for it. But I don’t want you doing it by yourself.”

  “I don’t think I’d have the guts to confront him.” Her face was shuttered in the passing glow of streetlights. “As soon as I saw him, it was like the years melted away and all I could remember were his fists coming toward my face. Anyway, you’re one to talk about going it alone. You really should keep Chester in the loop. He needs to feel like he can still help you if you need him.”

  “I don’t need him.” And I didn’t like her poking her nose into my relationship with my grandpa, but I sucked it up. I owed her a little leeway for my shitty behavior earlier in the day.

  “Yes, you do. And even if you didn’t, he needs you. He raised you, and it’s tough for elderly people like him that are starting to slow down a little. They need to still feel a part of their kids’ and grandkids’ lives, like a useful, needed part of the family. He’s got Mrs. Blakely and Dan at the VFW,” she gave me a ghost of a teasing grin, “but you’re the most important person in the world to him.”

  “He’s had heart issues. I know he says he wants to be involved, but I don’t want him dealing with the stress.”

  “I’m not claiming to know your grandpa better than you do,” Olivia said carefully. “But does he happen to mention those heart issues in conjunction with anything else? Like visits to his cabin in Michigan, maybe?”

  I glanced away from the road sharply. “You think he’s lying to me about bein
g sick?”

  “No. Like I said, you know your grandpa a lot better than I do. I only spent a few hours with him. But it occurred to me that he could be exaggerating things… making a lot out of a doctor’s recommendation for R&R when he talks to you… maybe trying to get you to join him? He worries that you work too hard.”

  “Something to think about.” And it was. Chester was always hassling me for not taking him fishing, and now that I thought about it, those were usually the times he brought up the cabin I’d bought for him in Manistee. I didn’t even know if he’d been there yet. He scoffed every time I told him I’d charter him a flight or get Jeff to drive him.

  “He’s a good guy.”

  “The best. I’m glad you guys hit it off so well,” I added with a wry twist to my lips. “But not surprised. Pains in the asses. Both of you.”

  I slowed down, getting ready to turn into the parking garage when a loud popping noise exploded into the night. And then two more.

  Olivia gasped and twisted around in her seat to look behind us. “Keep driving, Gabe.”

  I hit the gas, trusting her instincts completely. “What was that?”

  “Someone was shooting at you. There’s a bullet in your ceiling and the headrest in the back seat is shot to shit.”

  The windows were still down, and I hit the gas harder as I rolled them up, hoping the glass would slow down another bullet. Olivia already had her phone out. “Ask for Detective Kincaid,” I told her, turning right. Adrenaline was pumping, and I wanted to take someone apart. “And get down in your seat.”

  She didn’t argue, just hunched down in the passenger’s seat and calmly relayed what had happened to the 911 dispatcher. Her calm was contagious. I stopped myself from turning right again to circle the block like I had planned and focused on clearing the red, murderous haze from my vision.

  If Devlin was the shooter — a gang war in Uptown that coincidentally took place in front of my building seemed unlikely — and he was either in a car or on foot, he was probably gone. And if, by chance, he wasn’t gone, it would be incredibly stupid to take Olivia right back into his line of fire. I turned left, instead, and headed north, to the only other place I could think of.