Raw (Revenge Book 6)

by Trevion Burns

  Gage searched her eyes, chest heaving, dick still hard as a rock against her ass, begging to be back inside to finish what they’d started. Then, his gaze hardened. He shook his head.

  “No,” he whispered, swallowing heavily before leaning down to seize his pants and underwear. “No more running. To hell with that…”

  Veda’s heart broke, and she turned away from the wall, facing him as he got his pants and belt re-fastened.

  “To hell with that,” he said again, stepping out of the crevice in the wall and into the view of whoever had just stepped out into the alley. He pointed a finger at Veda. “To hell with you. You’re the worst goddamn thing that ever happened to me. Stop following me around. I won’t ask you again. The next time it happens I’m going straight to the police and filing charges for stalking and harassment!”

  Veda rolled her eyes as she pulled her panties up, crossed her arms, and then spat back. “Fuck you!”

  Gage gave her the middle finger, putting on a hell of a show for whoever was standing there watching him, a person Veda couldn’t yet see. “Go fuck yourself, Veda.”

  And he was gone, disappearing from her view in the crook. Veda rolled her eyes again when Gage spat something unintelligible to whoever was in the alley. Then the back door opened once more, the hip-hop music inside blaring into the alley before the door slammed closed, muffling it again.

  Clothes back on, Veda remained in the crevice, struggling to collect herself.

  A moment later, her redheaded coworker, a waitress whose name Veda always struggled to remember, peeked her head around the corner. Their eyes met, and Veda smiled bashfully, relieved that the person who’d nearly caught her and Gage would never find herself within ten feet of Gage’s parents. Not even if she wanted to.

  The redhead raised a red eyebrow, her green orbs full of pity. “Ex-boyfriend?”

  Veda nodded.

  “Yeah, mine’s a fucking asshole too.” The redhead smiled. “Swear to God, one day he’s gonna turn around and get Choppered if he keeps fuckin’ with me.”

  Veda’s eyes widened as the redhead walked off with a laugh, lighting the cigarette she’d presumably come into the alley to smoke. A cloud of white vapor billowed through the air in her retreat.

  Veda watched her go, wondering when her quest for revenge had become a damn catchphrase.

  Getting Choppered?

  She couldn’t help the chortle that raced up her lips, clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle it. She couldn’t lie. She kind of liked having a catchphrase. The narcissistic side of her wondered if it would spread worldwide. An international phenomenon. Maybe even end up in Merriam Webster one day.

  She laughed again, nibbling the tip of her nail.

  Then, she thought of Gage, realizing again that that night would be the last time she kissed him, the last time she touched him, and the last time felt him inside of her for twenty-three whole days.

  And the smile vanished from her face.

  5

  At six-foot-five, two hundred and twenty-five pounds, Lincoln Hill towered over every soul in Dante’s that night. But that wasn’t why every patron stared as he made his way through the bar. He’d waited until the evening rush had died down to arrive because he’d anticipated the stares. The attention. He knew the real reason every neck was breaking as he made his way in—once upon a time he’d lived in that bar—but he didn’t care.

  The music had been turned down, as it always was when the evening rush was over, and he swore he could hear his name on the lips of the few patrons who still lingered. Ignoring them, he approached the lone stool at the very end of the bar. The one that most of the patrons ignored because it was located right next to the server’s station where the waitresses were constantly printing checks, gossiping, and accidentally running into whoever had the misfortune of sitting in that seat.

  But Linc took the seat, muscular arms pulsing under his black t-shirt, brow furrowed as he looked up at the plasma television above the bar. The football game that had drawn a huge crowd and packed the bar to the hilt earlier had gone off, replaced with stern-faced news reporters imparting current events. Like most nights in Shadow Rock, The Chopper was the top story. The woman who was working overtime to turn that entire island upside down.

  The woman he’d set free.

  The woman who hadn’t just castrated Liam O’Dair, but had separated him from his genital organs completely—his testicles, his penis, and his urethra. The woman who hadn’t even bothered to stitch him up. If Linc had waited even five minutes longer to call it in, Liam would’ve bled to death. Linc had always anticipated The Chopper would escalate, but he’d assumed the death of Jax Murphy—her third victim—was the escalation.

  No.

  It was now clearer than ever that Jax’s death had been an accident. The Chopper’s real escalation had occurred last night when she’d taken everything. Stealing from Liam not just the ability to bear children, but the ability to fornicate at all. Linc didn’t know what had pissed her off, but wherever she was, she was definitely spitting fire.

  He drew in a deep breath before whistling across the bar.

  Dante, polishing glasses across the bar, turned toward the whistle, caught sight of Linc, and made a face. Some part of him seemed to consider whether he should even acknowledge Linc’s presence. Apparently, Dante landed on yes, setting down his glass and polishing rag before approaching.

  “You’re back.” Dante’s tone didn’t scream exuberance.

  Linc held out his arms with a tight smile. “I’d like to finish what I started last night if you don’t mind.”

  The pinched expression on Dante’s face said he absolutely did mind, but regardless, he claimed the tequila bottle on the other side of the bar, shaking his head the whole way. He seized a fresh shot glass next, sliding it across the gleaming wood of the bar top.

  Linc caught the glass and held it steady. He waited.

  Dante hesitated, searching Linc’s eyes, and then sighed, tilting the tequila bottle and filling the glass to the brim.

  Linc watched the clear liquid rise, his green eyes glowing with every second it flowed from the pour spout, playing his fingers together while gnawing his bottom lip. Like he’d just told Dante, Linc was there to finish what he’d started the night before. Before he’d been forced to abandon his untouched tequila shot to follow up on a lead about The Shadow Rock Chopper. To follow up on the woman he’d then set free.

  He’d broken every protocol in the book by allowing a criminal to walk away from the crime scene, but concerns about what it would mean for his career if anyone ever found out he’d waited to call in Liam O’Dair’s attack wasn’t what had driven him to that bar.

  No.

  He knew the real reason he’d been driven to that bar for the first time in over a year.

  As if the thoughts in his head had subconsciously summoned her—her—the real reason—she appeared next to him out of nowhere. The real reason slapped her tiny hand on the bar top, right next to the shot glass he still clutched but hadn’t drank. The real reason cocked her skinny leg out, digging her nails into the bar. Nails that had been painted in a ridiculous polka dot design. The real reason’s sweet scent—the scent that still permeated his bed sheets no matter how many times he washed them—floated in, making his stomach turn inside out.

  The real reason’s voice fluttered into his ear, high pitched and curt. “What the fuck?”

  Linc blinked lazily, his hold on the shot glass tightening so much he worried it was moments from shattering, before he slowly looked to his left and met the real reason’s eyes.

  Veda Vandyke tilted her head, causing her curly black ponytail to bop to the side. With her hair pulled back, her every facial feature seemed amplified. Arched eyebrows raised as high as they could go. Big brown eyes wide as saucers. Full lips puckered. She was already all lips by nature, with a captivating mouth that owned her delicate face. A mouth that had the power to take a man hostage from across the room, without even
trying. So naturally that, when she puckered them, he was unable to stop his gaze from falling to watch them pout.

  She didn’t speak further, apparently having said all she needed to say with the profane words she’d just spat in his ear. Instead, she moved her eyes down to his shot glass and then back up to him, over and over, clapping her free hand on her hip when he continued to look at her blankly.

  Leaning one elbow deep into the bar, she tilted her head further, drumming the pads of her fingers against the bar top. Waiting.

  For what, Linc didn’t know. So he raised his eyebrows right back at her, eyes growing hooded as if he were bored, even as a storm swirled to life in his gut.

  “Well?” Veda’s voice rose.

  “Well, what, Veda?” Linc spat, surprising himself. He’d made a silent vow that he wouldn’t entertain her or the irritated look on her face, so when the words spilled out before he could stop them, he silently cursed himself.

  Veda’s eyes fell back to the shot glass. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

  Linc sighed, looking at Dante, who was serving other customers but still watching them from the corner of his eyes. “Don’t you have a job to do, or what? The hell does Dante pay you for?”

  “He pays me to serve drinks to people. He also pays me to cut people off when they’re making bad choices. You are making a very bad choice right now, Linc.”

  His eyes blazed to hers. “Mind your own damn business.”

  She was no stranger to hearing those five words falling from his lips, but she still winced, taking a deep breath.

  Linc knew there was more bite to his tone than he’d ever used with her. He knew his tone was what had really put that wounded look on her face—not the harsh words themselves—but he couldn’t reign it in.

  He cringed, frustrated that she’d somehow made herself the victim when he was the one getting harassed for no reason. “Go away, Vandyke.”

  He looked away from her but saw from the corner of his eye that she didn’t move an inch.

  “Linc…” Her soft voice floated in. “Please don’t let what happened last night drive you to—”

  “Can we please…” He ground his teeth. “Please forget that ever happened?” For a moment, he just stared ahead, his heart in his throat. When a long silence came, he snuck a look at her.

  She breathed deeply when their eyes met, pressing her lips together, but didn’t speak.

  “Go away, Veda.” He broke their gaze once more, holding his hands out on either side of his glass, fingers splayed, when she didn’t leave. “Go. Away.”

  “So this is how it’s going to be?” She fought to keep her voice level even as it wobbled. “Because of last night, you’re going to start treating me like dirt? Like we weren’t best friends just a day ago? You’re going to be that guy, Linc?”

  Linc made a fist and slammed it onto the bar, causing both her and the shot glass to bounce.

  “Veda…” He spoke through clenched teeth, his strained voice causing Dante to sneak another peak at them. Linc waited until he was sure he could remain calm before speaking again, still staring forward and not into her widened eyes. “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. I know this may come as a surprise, but the whole goddamn world doesn’t revolve around you, a’ight?”

  He nearly screamed when she remained. Her and that fruity body lotion she used.

  “I just got off. I need a ride home.” She paused when he didn’t look at her. “Can you give me a ride home?”

  He cut his eyes at her, his upper lip curling at her transparent manipulations. “No.”

  “It’s late, and I’m still a little afraid of being alone.”

  His jaw clenched and rolled.

  Her voice hitched. “You’re going to let me go home alone? In the dead of night? After everything that’s happened?”

  “Call your boyfriend.”

  “The one who just set sail for a month to go undercover as your confidential informant? The one who just got done cussing me out in the alley because we have to pretend we hate each other? The one whose head you’ve gassed up with Jason Bourne delusions of grandeur that are going to get him killed?”

  “That’s the one.”

  “Take me home.”

  “Call an Uber.”

  “I don’t want an Uber. I want my friend.”

  He clenched his fists at that word. Friend. It took everything he had not to rip that entire bar clear from the floor.

  “Go away,” he said, again.

  Silence.

  He felt her eyes burning into his jaw but didn’t return the gaze. For a moment, he was convinced she’d given up.

  Then, without another word, she reached out a calm hand and swatted his shot glass. The glass soared off the bar—tequila flying through the air as it did—and landed with a thud on the rubber floor mat, which saved it from shattering. Tequila splashed to the floor around the glass seconds later, making the mat glisten.

  Linc’s eyes slammed closed, and he chuckled. That chuckle moved to a groan as he set both elbows on the bar and buried his face in his hands.

  Her breath warmed his ear, causing him to hold his own.

  “That was childish,” she whispered. “And I hate that I’ve managed to spiral into such a codependent mess so quickly. But you’re better than this, Linc.”

  And then, finally, she was gone.

  But even as she’d left, she lingered. His earlobe tingled in the wake of her hushed whisper. His nostrils flared for the faint remnants of her sweet smell. His skin pulsed for the remnants of her very aura.

  Linc opened his eyes and caught sight of her. She was halfway across the bar, glaring at him from the corners of her eyes as she stomped toward the doors. He swore he saw tears gleaming in them as she went, and could hardly stand the fire they caused to flame behind his every strangled breath.

  “Yo, Veda!”

  Both Veda and Linc’s eyes went to Dante when he called her name. Dante smiled across the bar at her, holding up a bin of empty plastic bottles.

  “I know you’re off.” Dante gave her his hundred-watt smile. “But do you mind, baby? Just the one?”

  Veda did a double take, shooting Linc another venomous glare as she re-approached the bar and took the recycling bin Dante held out for her.

  “Thanks, baby, you’re the best.” Dante pointed at Veda as she began back toward the exit. “I’ll see you this weekend.”

  Veda cradled the bin against her stomach with one hand so she could give Dante a goodbye wave with the other.

  This time, when she crossed the bar, she didn’t look at Linc.

  But he looked at her, watching her move with her head lowered, her ponytail bopping the whole way. His squinted eyes followed her all the way to the door, and he ignored every bone in his body that screamed to help her as she struggled to get through the door with the box in her hand. She made it out, and since the door went through a long delay every time it was opened, the night breeze snuck in.

  Linc turned back to the bar as the door crept closed at a snail’s pace, the way it had been rigged to do. With a deep breath, he met Dante’s gaze before swirling his finger in the air, silently asking for a refill of the drink Veda had just knocked off the bar.

  Dante was in the midst of shaking his head at Linc’s life choices once more when a bone-chilling scream came booming in from outside, sneaking into the crack that remained in the slowly closing door and shattering the relaxed ambiance of the bar. A stunned silence followed, every soul frozen at the sound. It wasn’t the kind of scream that usually sounded outside of a bar that had just finished happy hour. The kind of scream a woman emitted when her date had thrown her over his shoulder or one of her friends had said something uproariously funny.

  No. It was the kind of scream that had the power to stop the world in its tracks.

  And it had.

  Even as the hairs on the back of Linc’s neck stood on end, he wasn’t frozen in shock like the other patrons were. Less th
an a second after the scream, he shoved out of his seat and flew across the bar as quickly as his legs would allow.

  Not because he was a cop who’d just heard a woman scream.

  But because he was a man who’d just heard her scream.

  6

  “Veda!” Linc made it outside in seconds, but it still felt like a lifetime. Long enough for his tan skin to go ashen white. Long enough to make his lungs feel like they’d been glued together, causing every breath to come in short bursts. Long enough to make him feel like he’d aged a century. When he called her name and got no answer, two more centuries tacked themselves on.

  He bounded down the small staircase at Dante’s entrance, dodging the runaway water bottles rolling all over the asphalt of the nearly empty parking lot. Beyond the lot, boats bobbed in the calm waters of the marina, and the full moon high in the sky made the tranquil waters glow.

  Linc, however, was anything but tranquil as he kicked one bottle after the other out of the way, following the uneven path that led to the large green dumpsters and recycling bins situated in the alley, just a few feet away from the bar. The recycling crate Dante had just handed Veda lay overturned on the ground next to the trashcans, but Linc still couldn’t see her. He picked up speed, heaving softly. As he cleared the alley corner, however, his shoulders collapsed.

  Veda stood a few feet away from the trashcans with both hands covering her mouth—which Linc could tell was hanging wide open—gaping down at something on the other side of the trash cans. Something he couldn’t see.

  Confirming that Veda was okay, his lungs unglued themselves from each other, making his breathing come a little easier. She didn’t even look at him as he approached, his boots crunching on gravel and runaway debris from the trashcans. Trashcans that were overflowing and in desperate need of a garbage man.