Vow of Retribution

by Emma Renshaw

“No, man,” James speaks up. I look at him. He gives me a rusty smile. It seems as if he doesn’t smile often, but is trying to put me at ease. “Talk to her first. I can wait.”

  Dex nods and turns back to me. James takes a seat on the stool next to him and starts paging through a binder of tattoos, giving us some privacy.

  “What’s your name?”

  “Savannah.”

  Dex gives me another smile. “Scars can be tricky to cover up. It depends where they are, how deep the original wound was, et cetera. I’ll need to check out the scars to see what we’re working with. Where are they?”

  I knew this was coming, but I am still dreading it. “My stomach,” I say, my voice barely audible. I have more scars on my body, but those are the worst.

  “C-section scar?” Dex asks. “I’ve done a lot of those.”

  I shake my head.

  “Okay, want to come back to the private room and show me?”

  I shake my head again.

  “Darlin’, I’d love nothin’ more than to help you and give you a tattoo, but you’ll need to let me see it.”

  James peeks up from the binder, watching our exchange. I look at him and then away.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell Dex as my eyes fill with tears. I look back at him and James and take a few deep breaths. I hate that I have to do this, but I hope that the end will be worth the reward. “I’d rather just show you out here if that’s okay.”

  James gets up and comes to sit on the couch behind me. I silently thank him for coming behind me, so I don’t have to show him, too.

  Dex watches me for a silent moment then looks at the massive watch on his hand. “We have about thirty minutes before anyone else comes in. I’ll need a few to examine the scars. Are you ready to do this now?”

  Before I can change my mind, I look away from him and lift my shirt, staring the wall.

  He sucks in a sharp breath, and curses, “Fucking Christ. Jesus Darlin’.” His voice sounds strained now. “I need to touch them if that’s okay.”

  I ball my fist at my side and nod. Dex takes a few more deep breaths and softly curses under his breath. I know he must be disgusted. I know I am anytime I see the scars.

  Small jagged lines in random areas on my belly. Some deeper than others, some minor, faint scars, but others have thicker ridges. The most disgusting scars are centered across my stomach, stretching from side to side, spelling AIDEN in capital letters. My ex-boyfriend’s voice rings in my ears. ‘You’ll always belong to me. You’re mine. This is just a little present, so you don’t forget. YOU. BELONG. TO. ME.’ He roared those words over and over in my face when he carved his name into my stomach.

  The moment Dex’s hands touch my stomach, I start shaking and bawling, but I refuse to give up. I hold my shirt in an even firmer grip and grit my teeth. I ball my fist tighter, feeling my nails dig into my skin.

  A warm hand pries my fingers apart, and a giant hand laces with mine. I turn my head. James is holding my hand in a tight grip, but looking at the wall opposite of me. He’s giving me a quiet comfort that he isn’t making me acknowledge. I will forever be thankful for that moment of pure kindness from a stranger.

  After a few minutes, Dex closes his hand over the fist in my shirt and lowers it. He breathes deeply and lets me know that he can cover the scars. I don’t let go of James’ hand the entire time.

  “What do you want the tattoo to be, darlin’?”

  “I’m not really sure.”

  “It needs to be something strong and powerful to show the horrors you lived through and survived,” Dex whispers.

  James squeezes my hand.

  “I—I really don’t have any ideas, I just want it to cover the entire area.”

  “I think I got some sweet ideas that would look badass on you. I’ll draw something up. Can you give me a few days? Come back Tuesday morning at eleven before the shop opens.”

  I nod. “That sounds fine. Thank you, Dex.”

  I squeeze James’ hand a few times before letting go, a silent thanks for his quiet support.

  I walk out the door and start heading to my car when I hear my name being called. I yelp in surprise and turn around.

  “I didn’t mean to scare you,” James says, walking slowly toward me like he’s approaching a baby deer. I hate that I reacted that way; he can see I’m like a scared little duckling who got lost on the way back to the pond. James gives me another mechanical smile.

  “I may be overstepping here, so tell me to fuck off if I am, but I want—” he rubs his hand over his face. “Fuck. I don’t know. I want to help you.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  He gives me a strained look before saying, “I work at a gym not far from here. I want to teach you self-defense and to fight.”

  The idea of having the ability to protect myself thrills me more than anything has in a long time. I’ve kept myself in a bubble, but if I knew how to fight, surely I would feel safe going to a grocery store and other places, right?

  “Okay. When?”

  “You’ll have to be alone with me. The gym is mostly men. I’d rather we do this after hours.”

  I know that I’ll have to be in a room with Dex at some point, too. My stomach rolls with fear at the thought of being alone with a man, but if I could fight, I could defend myself. Hope starts to replace the fear in my belly. “I think I can do that. You might have to be patient with me.”

  “Anything you need.”

  “When?” I don’t want to interrupt his life, but I hope we start soon. Once the hope began to blossom, it fills my chest and eases my heart slightly.

  “We can start tonight. I don’t have anything going on.”

  “Okay,” I say. “Tonight.”

  James hands me a card with the address of the gym. We agree to meet at seven.

  James and I start working together every night for the next week, forming an unlikely friendship. He’s my first new friend since my attack, and he’s a man. He makes me feel comfortable at every turn, giving me back confidence.

  As I punch a bag in the gym, picturing Aiden’s face with each punch, I make my vow of retribution.

  25

  LIAM

  Thawp. Thunk. Thawk! Thump. I pound on the bag with all my energy, trying to release the aggression boiling below the surface for days. I haven’t heard a word from Savannah, even though I called and texted like a pathetic fucking puppy. Loud heavy metal blares through my headphones. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t want to see that fucker. I need a home gym. I keep punching away the hope that the girl who is the star of every dream and fantasy will walk through that damn door. Fuckin’ pathetic.

  I doubt she’d speak to me, even if she did come. She’d probably just go talk to fucking James. My fist lands on the bag even harder than before. I relish the burn in every muscle. I’m going to keep going until I’m no longer angry or I’m ready to fucking collapse, whichever comes first. I’d be an idiot to bet the anger releases before I collapse.

  I’ve been like a fucking stalker and driven past her house once. Fine, twice. I wanted to pull over and pound on her door until she answered, but I thought the relentless stream of messages was probably enough. I get it. Message fucking received, Savannah. How did I end up the pussy in this situation? Everyone steers clear of me, even though I’ve tried to keep my anger to a minimum out in public, but each minute that passes without my phone alerting me that she has texted or called back, I get even more pissed. At her. At myself. At the whole fucking situation.

  I made my sister cry at Monday night dinner by being the eternal jackass that I’ve become. She started asking questions that I tried to blow off, she didn’t take the hint, and I exploded, telling her to mind her own business. Josh almost launched himself across the table to strangle me. I think it would have been a welcome release from the shit brewing inside me. I left dinner early, throwing out a half-assed apology over my shoulder. I’m pissed about that, too. My family deserves better than that. What kind of ass
hole makes a pregnant woman cry?

  I up the pace and force of each punch. I feel my muscles start to twitch below my skin; I know soon they’ll be quivering, and I’ll have to stop before I pass the fuck out in the middle of the gym. I keep playing different scenarios with Savannah in my head. Am I right? Am I even on the right track? Is she running from the cops? Was she in a gang? My scenarios have become so ridiculous. I don’t know what is happening with her, and I’ve come to realize there is so much I don’t know about her. I saw her and knew in my fucking bones that she is the type of woman you try to keep in your goddamn life. I tried to be open. I talked about my family, my work, most of my reasons for moving from Chicago.

  Does she want someone like James who hides secrets just as much as she does? I have secrets. I have things I haven’t told her. I thought when she fully opened up to me, I would do the same with her. I’d give her the final reason she doesn’t know why I left Chicago. I’ll let her in on that one secret my family doesn’t even know. How dark I got. How far down the fucking rabbit hole I traveled. I pause my punches, not being able to resist for a second longer, and I look at my phone that I’ve kept on me since Saturday morning. Nothing. Nada. No missed messages. No missed calls. Dammit, Savannah, what do I have to do or say to get you to even speak to me?

  “Would you show me how to use that machine over there? I can’t seem to figure it out.” A finger runs down my sweaty arm. I look up to see who the owner of the high-pitch voice is. A gym bunny. Great. Her bleached blonde hair is bright and obnoxious. Her face is hidden under layers of makeup. Her body is barely covered by a sports bra too small for her busty chest, and I’m sure if I looked hard enough, I’d see her ass and pussy hanging out of those tiny shorts. “You look like someone who knows how to use all the equipment.” She looks down at my dick, making sure I don’t miss her innuendo.

  I step out of her reach. “I’m a not a trainer. And I’m busy.”

  “Maybe you could help me get a workout in another way.”

  I look at her, expecting my dick to at least twitch. It does nothing. I can’t believe this is the type of woman I slept with in Chicago. If her hair was her natural color and she wiped off that makeup, she would be beautiful. I don’t know what happened in her life to make her feel like she has to throw herself at a man, but she chose the wrong angry man today.

  “Not interested.”

  She steps back into my space, pressing her tits against me. One of her hands lands on my bare stomach and starts traveling down.

  I remove her hand and tell her, “I’m not fucking interested. Find someone else.” I put my headphones back on and start punching the bag again. When I glance to my side to make sure she left, I see James standing in his office door. The hulking brute has his arms crossed over his chest, glaring my way. I shoot him a glare right back and punch the bag with all my force, silently telling him to fucking step off. I turn my full attention back to the bag.

  I put up my fist, stopping the bag’s swing when a shadow lands next to me. Fucker didn’t listen. I swing my glare his way.

  “What the fuck is your problem?” James demands.

  “Don’t have one.” I face toward him, matching his stance—arms crossed over chest, feet shoulder-width apart. He has a couple of inches on me, but we’re matched in our strength.

  He stares at me, expecting me to change my answer. My mind starts racing. Does he know something? Did Savannah talk to him? That would be fucking rich.

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ve been watching you beat my punching bag to a bloody pulp. What’s up? You already fuck up with Sav?”

  “Like you don’t know.”

  He cocks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything. Ever elusive, always keeping damn secrets.

  “You can take your secret-keeping ass somewhere else and leave me the fuck alone.”

  “It’s my gym, jackass. If one of us is leaving, it ain’t gonna be me.”

  I glare at him, resisting the urge to punch his smug face. “Does Savannah know all of your secrets like you know hers?”

  “I don’t know all her secrets. She has shared just enough with me.”

  “Why the fuck have you seen what is on her body, but she refuses to give me a glimpse into her life?”

  He goes stock-still, watching me with a renewed interest and curiosity. I see the wheels turning in his head as he searches for just the right words. “What do you mean? What’s on her body?”

  “Don’t play that shit with me. I know you know about her tattoo. Why is it even a big deal?”

  James visibly sighs, as if relieved. Even more suspicion flares in my mind. I ball my fists at my sides, ready to charge him and demand information.

  “I only know about the tattoo because Savannah and I met at the tattoo shop where she got it done. She went to my guy. I just wanted to be there when she came in the first time. That’s all I’m telling you, Liam. The rest you get from her.”

  I swing my arms out to my side. “What the hell do you think I’ve been trying to do? She hasn’t spoken to me in days because I saw a glimpse of it and asked questions.”

  “You don’t know what it is?” James says carefully.

  “No. Apparently only you do.”

  He smirks. I ball my hands into fists again, ready to break his fucking jaw to wipe that damn smirk off his face.

  “You need to make her talk to you. She will. That’s all I’m saying. That shit is her story.”

  He starts to walk away before turning back to me. “If you ever bring that attitude into my gym again, I will fucking break you. If you break Savannah’s trust after she reveals her damn soul to you, like I know she will, then I will make sure not a damn person ever finds your fucking body.”

  I’d like to see him try to break me. He smirks again like he knows exactly what I’m thinking.

  26

  SAVANNAH

  “Girl, what is up with you?” Natasha whispers. Our boss just walked out of her office, but she could be back at any moment. “You’ve been moping all week, barely speaking, looking like you’re on the verge of tears.”

  I don’t answer her, just stare at my screen. I’ve barely gotten any work done this week. It’s Friday, almost a week since I ran out on Liam and ignored his messages and calls. It’s been two days since he’s tried to contact me. I wasn’t responding to him, so I know it’s unfair and petty of me to feel this way, but I miss his messages. I wanted him to keep trying. I was so close to breaking. And, now that I’ve lost that connection to him and he’s moved on, I’m even more desolate than earlier in the week.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out he’s moved on when his messages stopped the other day. The same day I pulled into the gym parking lot and saw him with Jenny. She’s so tiny and petite with huge boobs and a bouncy butt. I’m sure she didn’t mind taking off her scraps of clothing for the guy. I’m sure she’s already told him every vapid thing about herself.

  Fine. Whatever, Liam. I just need the weekend and a girls’ night tonight, and I will be over it. I swear. Some cookies wouldn’t hurt, either. Maybe I can convince Harper to bake me cookies and cakes this weekend. I’ll drown myself in wine and pastries. That will surely heal my battered heart.

  “Hello? Earth to Savannah.”

  “Natasha, I don’t want to talk about it. Boys suck, that’s all you need to know.”

  I feel her gaze on my back, firing silent questions. If there wasn’t the faint clomping sound of our boss coming down the hall, I know she wouldn’t stop. She’d keep going until she had what she wanted.

  Our boss appears in the doorway. I look over at her, since she’s just standing there. She is shooting daggers at me with her eyes. “I have told you ladies before, I don’t like deliveries to come to you during the workday. It is distracting, and your work becomes sloppy. Whatever new boyfriend you have, Savannah, you better set him straight and tell him not to deliver to this office.”

  “I don’t have a boyfriend,” I say, confus
ed. Natasha shoots me a questioning look, but I ignore her.

  “Do you think I care about your gossip? Maybe you spread your legs for someone over the weekend. I don’t know, and I don’t care.” I gasp. The Witch turns on her heel and stomps back into her office. A moment later she yells, “And tell that damn old bat of a receptionist that I am not your errand girl. I don’t care if I walked past the desk and was coming back here. I’m not a delivery girl. Go get your delivery. And set whoever it is straight.”

  I finally glance at Natasha. She mouths, “Wow.” I almost let my laugh escape when I see her flicking her off under her desk.

  I am even more confused when I get up to the front desk. There’s a vase of flowers, only there are no flowers. It’s just stems. That’s weird, but when my eyes land on the white box with a blue ribbon, I know that Harper must have sent something to me. She’s been worried about me all week and knows how much I need sweets when I’m really down. Last night was the worst of this week.

  I go straight for the white box, passing by the stems. The receptionist, Patty, speaks up. “They’re both for you, honey.” She points at the stems. “Is that something new the kids are doing these days? I don’t understand you young folks. Flowers without the flowers.”

  I thank her as I pick up both items. I don’t mention the rude words my boss said. I’m sure The Witch already told her she wasn’t a delivery girl. Patty is too lovely to say anything to me about The Witch. I’m sure she let it roll off her shoulders before she went back to reading her Harlequin Romance.

  I silently go back to my desk, placing down both items as quietly as possible. Natasha’s face lights up when she sees the box, and she does a little dance, knowing I’ll share a cookie with her.

  I look at the stems again, but there’s no note attached to them, only to the box. When I open it, I’m shocked when I don’t see Harper’s name at the bottom of the card, but a name I didn’t expect or even guess.