by Kane Daemon
Copyright © 2020 Kane Daemon
Vengeance is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Vengeance
Copyright © 2020 by Kane Daemon
All rights reserved.
Cover design, editing, and interior design
by Raven Canely
The uploading, scanning, and distribution of this book in any form or by any means—including but not limited to electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise—without the permission of the copyright holder is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized editions of this work, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
A special thank you to Raven Canely for all her hard work and assistance for making this book happen. I had my doubts but she didn't. I also want to thank you, the reader, for taking a chance on this book. I hope it both meets and exceeds your expectations. Finally, for the real Carrie who this book is about. I hope you enjoy.
PROLOGUE
Amanda Legend slowed and entered the parking lot beneath a single light. Its brightness barely did little more in the night than draw bugs. Zane, her husband, told her he had a surprise waiting for her in their warehouse. Some new equipment had come in an hour ago, and she just had to see it.
"Go on in, and I'll be there shortly," he had said, though the phone connection was pretty bad. So bad, the call ended without either saying I love you. They always ended the call with those three little words. And whoever said the words last would have to make dinner that night. This particular evening, they would pick up Chinese on the way home because both had worked late, later than usual. Neither chose work over their relationship.
She pulled next to the main entrance and parked. Before getting out, she looked through the back window of her Lexus and glanced through the passenger window. Then an idea hit her, and she smiled.
Years ago, Zane had a private room added to his office in the warehouse. Though small, it had a queen-sized bed, a private bathroom, and a small kitchen. Yeah, it would be a happy surprise for him.
Amanda stepped from the Lexus and locked the door, not noticing the black van sitting in the shadows at the backside of the parking lot. She entered the warehouse and flipped the light switch. Nothing happened. Zane had mentioned he needed to have an electrical look into the issue.
A single emergency light dimly lit the 30,000 square-foot warehouse just enough for her to make out some aspects of the space.
She started down one of the aisles and then stopped. "Zane?" She listened for another footstep. Nothing. Paranoid. That was all. She continued down the aisle and then crossed over to the next, stopping once more. The footsteps continued for a moment and then came to a halt. "Who's there?"
"Maybe that had not been Zane on the phone," she thought.
Then the tapping against the shelving started. TINK, TINK, TINK.
"Nowhere to run," a man's voice called.
The sound of metal on metal continued. TINK, TINK, TINK.
"I don't know who you are, but you should know who owns this warehouse. This place belongs to Zane Legend. And he's on his way here."
The man laughed. It was not a loud, maniacal laugh. It was instead a gentle, sly laugh that suggested he was in control. "He's not on his way here, Amanda. He's sitting at home right now, waiting for you to arrive."
She concentrated on the voice, trying to place the owner. It wasn't anyone that she recognized, but he apparently knew her and Zane. She reached to her back pocket and then cursed herself when she found it missing and realized she had left it plugged into the car charger. "What do you want?"
"You, of course. And to leave Zane a message." The sound of metal on metal followed his voice, both getting closer. "I hear you have a nice piece of ass."
Amanda sprinted down the next aisle toward the back office where she could lock the door and make a phone call. She glanced back and slowed when she saw nothing but stocked shelves. She listened for footsteps. There were none. She listened for the distinct sound of someone taking a breath. Nothing.
"Hello."
Amanda turned back to the direction she was going. "You," she said.
The man raised his gun to her forehead. "I don't mind putting a bullet in your head. So make one wrong fucking move, and you're gone. In the office. Now."
"Zane will have your ass for this," Amanda told him. The gun found its way to the middle of her back.
"Open the fucking door."
"You're making a big fucking mistake," Amanda said. She opened the door and entered the small office, heading to the private room, as he urged her along.
"Take off your clothes." The man moved closer.
"Fuck you."
"Wrong answer," the man said, and punched her in the face, knocking her back onto the bed.
Amanda felt her world swirling, the blood in her right eye blurring her vision; her left eye could see the man coming at her. She raised her foot to kick him away, but she missed wildly. She blindly swung her fist and caught the man across the bridge of his nose.
"Fucking bitch!"
Another punch found Amanda's left eye.
She saw Zane standing in a lit room, wearing white pants and a shirt. He called her name, and she reached for him. He reached for her, but then a shroud of darkness blotted him out.
A hand grabbed hold of Amanda's neck, another up her skirt. "Fucking asshole." Amanda squeezed her legs together, but the man forced them apart with his knee. "No!" She wrapped her hands around his arm and tried to push him away.
The man laughed, released her for a moment to reach between his legs, freeing his cock. "Time to give you what Zane can't."
Amanda managed to raise her foot and land a kick to the man's chest. He flew back and hit the door with a loud thud. Amanda gasped for air and struggled from the bed, the blood in her eyes blurring the darkness. And then, he slammed his body into her stomach, sending her flailing to the bed and landing on her stomach. Tears mixed with blood. Her left arm dangled at the elbow. "I'm going to die," she thought.
"That's even better," the man said. He shoved her skirt up to her waist and stared at her beautiful ass. "Yeah, this is much better."
Amanda thought about pleading for him to stop, but she knew it would do no good. Besides, he would enjoy it too much. Instead, she thought about her and Zane. Thought about all the things they had done together. Thought about him going nomad so he could spend more time with her. "I love you," she whispered into the darkness. And then everything went blank.
He ripped her panties away, thankful she'd stopped fighting him, which, of course, meant she liked it rough. He mounted her ass and drove into her, moaning, impressed she didn't move. It took a woman with a lot of spunk not to move when taking it in the ass.
When the man finished, he smacked Amanda's ass, zipped his pants, and left the warehouse a free man.
CHAPTER ONE
Carrie
The car pulled next to mine, and the window lowered. The black Mercedes was lit by a full moon and viewed by a billion twinkling stars. The man in the car sure as hell beat out the last guy who stopped.
I had been stuck for almost an hour waiting for someone helpful and the non-murdering type to pass by. A half-dozen cars had passed, but only creeps dared stop. Smart people did not stop for strangers at two in the morning on a dark road leading to nowhere. The world was no longer that type of place. People did not help people anymore because you just might wind up dead in doing so.
The tinted window lowered, a
nd I rolled down my passenger window. He parked too close to be able to open his door and attack.
Him.
His eyes were like shiny emeralds, the kind of green you stared at for hours. “Everything okay?” he asked.
I hesitated with a response because his type didn't ask me that kind of question. His type didn’t even know I existed. He wouldn’t understand my life. My lifestyle was where everything had turned to shit, and you just wanted to run. It was the kind of life where you get in your car and drive until you run out of gas, or the car breaks down. Well, guess what? It broke down.
“I’m not much of a mechanic,” he said. “But I can’t leave you out here alone either.” He nodded toward the passenger seat. “Come on, and I’ll give you a lift.”
Stay and possibly be murdered by an escaped psychopath or climb into a Mercedes with a strange, gorgeous man?
“It’s not safe out here,” he encouraged. “You can trust me.”
I’d heard that before. I’d heard those promises. Broken promises are why I left home in the first place.
Another car slowed. The man inside the vehicle glared at us. His eyes were wild and treacherous. Mr. Mercedes waved him on down the road. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad?
“Zane Legend,” he said.
He had to be kidding? Was a superhero stopping to help me? “Carrie,” I replied.
“Nice to meet you, Carrie.” He glanced at what appeared to be an expensive watch. “It’s getting late.”
“Do you have a phone?” I asked. My service had been cut off two days ago. Hence, one of my reasons for leaving.
“Afraid not,” he told me. “I don’t like to be bothered.”
“But, you stopped to help me.”
“True. But I can offer you a reprise from your current situation. You would like that, wouldn’t you, Carrie?”
I stared at him for a long time, considering my options, which were few and far between. His using my name like that did seem kind of creepy.
Another car approached, and he watched it in his rearview mirror. He then turned to me. His angle allowed me to see his bow tie. He wore a well-fitted tuxedo with just the right amount of white from the shirt below to peak from under the jacket cuff. When he placed his arm along the open window, his watch sparkled from the sunlight hitting the Chrystal.
“I have to go soon, Carrie,” he said. “Neither of us can wait all night.”
“Okay,” I finally said, accepting my fate. Whatever happened couldn’t be any worse than the last thing that happened in my life. The road, and possibly fate, had brought me to this moment and this man.
I raised the window and stepped out of my car, taking a look back at the vehicle before climbing into the sleek Mercedes. Tomorrow I’d have to figure out a way to pay for my car to be fixed. Good luck with that.
The seat fit snuggly around my body, almost like a blanket, its warmth a relief to the chilly night. He offered his hand.
“Zane,” he said.
“You told me,” I said, and he chuckled. “Carrie.”
“I know.” He smiled softly. “You told me.”
Everything about the man was extraordinary. He was older than me; his graying sideburns said as much. His tuxedo hugged, what I imagined to be, a lean, muscular body. Even in the darkness, his black shoes shined. He wore no wedding ring but did wear a silver ring on his middle finger. I thought the design was something strange and archaic.
“Thank you,” I said and placed my purse on the floor. “How far is the next town?”
“An hour,” he told me. “You have a place there to stay?”
I hesitated with a response. The truth was, I did not. I had no plans. I just had to leave, hoping life would quit fucking with me and give me a break. Apparently, that wasn’t happening anytime soon. “I’ll make a reservation when I get there,” I said and knew I shouldn’t have.
He pulled away from my car, and we started down the road into the darkness, the yellow line separating the lanes a blur in the night. The vehicle rode so smooth I had to watch the landscape pass us by to ensure we were moving. The car smelled like his cologne. It was not overpowering at all. Subtle. Like maybe he dabbed a little on one wrist and left it at that.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Sure, why do you ask?”
He rested his left elbow on the door. His right hand held the steering wheel, which, due to his long and lean stature, had to pull his chair back from to allow for the length of his legs. “Out here alone. No phone. No place to stay.” He checked the rearview mirror.
I gazed through the passenger window into the darkness. The Arizona countryside was bleak at night, but the stars were beautiful. My father always said to try to find the positive in everything. Lord knew I spent the last several weeks trying to do that.
“Just experiencing a rough patch in life, that’s all.” More than a rough patch, but it sounded good.
He chuckled. “Life has a way of beating you down, then lifting you up only to beat you down again. The key is to get ahead of life’s game.”
I turned in my seat. “I guess you figured out how to do that,” I said sarcastically.
He nodded. “I tell you what, Carrie, I have a house just thirty minutes up the road. It’s a bit secluded, but you’re welcome to stay overnight. We can get someone out to your car in the morning.”
“No,” I said. “I should go on into town.”
“If you say so. But this close to the highway, most places will be full.”
I should have stayed in the car.
We rode in silence for several minutes before he made the offer once more. “My place is about five minutes ahead. You have nothing to fear from me. I have too much to lose to murder you.”
“Oh, that makes me feel better,” I told him. He laughed; I didn’t. “You live out here by yourself?” I asked.
“I do.”
Yeah, that wasn’t scary at all. “Are you a serial killer?” I spit out the words as if I had no control over my mouth.
He laughed and tapped the steering wheel. “I assure you I am not. Nor do I have any desire to hurt you.” He pointed toward the lights in the distance, the ones glowing at the base of the mountains.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to offend you.”
“No need to be sorry. And you didn’t offend me. A beautiful woman stuck on the side of the road, picked up by an older man.” He shrugged. “It’s a scene for a late-night movie.”
“Okay. One night should be fine. I’ll call and let someone know where I am. I promise not to be a burden, and I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”
“I think you’ll be happy with your decision.”
We turned off the main highway and headed down a dirt road, minutes later pulling next to a large, single-story house.
The white building was of typical Arizona design, but had so many windows I wondered how he didn’t always feel exposed to the outside. The lights were on inside the space, which allowed me to see. All the interior walls were constructed of glass.
His car door shut, causing me to jump. I watched him round the car and then open my door. “It’ll be okay,” he said. “You’ll have your own bedroom, and you’re free to make a call home or to whomever.”
I stepped from the car, and we approached the front door. Zane walked next to me with his hand on the small of my back. I loved his name. I didn’t know why, I just did. And he was tall, at least six inches taller than me. He punched in a rather long number on the keypad next to the front door, and the door opened. When we entered, the door automatically closed. He then punched in a long number on the keypad on the wall, and all the glass walls facing the outside turned dark.
“Damn. You’ve got to be kidding.” It beat the hell out of the apartment I was living in and about to lose.
“My company’s design. All the walls in the house are glass. Each room has its own control panel.”
“No one can see what’s going on from the outside?”
I asked, regretting my decision to stay. Paranoid. Way too paranoid. No one could see into my apartment either. Shithead could have killed me, and nobody would have ever known.
“Nope.” He dropped his car keys on the table next to the front door. He pushed another button, and a fireplace in the next room came to life. “What kind of music do you like?”
I shrugged. “Depends on my mood.” He continued looking at me as if deciding if he should really allow me to stay. “Let’s go with rock for the time being.” Something soft and romantic would have been fine as well.
I followed him into the room with the fireplace, and he grabbed a remote from the coffee table though I saw no TV. He saw my questioning look. “I don’t own a TV.” He pushed a button on the remote. The Rolling Stones boomed overhead. “Mick is starting to look like someone’s grandmother. He can still rock, though.”
“Another design by your company?” I asked. The furniture appeared to be too expensive to sit on. At twenty-five, I had yet to own anything that had not been bought at a discount furniture store or Walmart. That was when I realized Zane was old enough to be my father.
“You can see my playlists on the remote. Feel free to change it if you like.”
“It’s fine,” I said. Through the back of the house, I could see a swimming pool, colorful lights dancing across the water, and changing every few seconds. The pink lights made the pool look full of Pepto-Bismol. I smiled.
“You’re free to swim if you like. There are a few new swimsuits in the guest bedroom.” He started down a hallway, and I followed. “This is the guest bedroom,” he said and tapped the keypad just inside the doorway. The walls became dark. “Hit this button, and it overrides the main controls, so only you can change the walls.”
“You always carry extra swimsuits?” I didn’t think he’d play peek-a-boo through the walls, so I wasn’t concerned about them changing.
“Not always, no. Consider it your lucky day. There’s also a robe in the closet, along with some clothes you’re free to wear.” He examined the woman standing in front of him. “They may be a little big. But I think it’ll be fine.”