Riske and Revenge: A Second Chance, Enemies Romance (Revenge series Book 1) Page 5

  I made a beeline for the office, still thinking of Brendon Fox.

  The man was constantly on my mind… and in my inbox.

  Except I hadn't gotten anything from him in over a week. There was nothing but radio silence between us. He probably wanted me to make the first move—to get back to how it really was.

  Quid pro quo. A note for note. He didn't send one unless I did. And this time, I simply couldn't send him anything. Not until I figured out the last thing he sent, his last words. Whether he was agreeing to my terms or not.

  I couldn’t find his last letter.

  The fire had eaten up the mail room, Laney’s office and a side of the breakfast nook in the break room. Everything was covered with soot or water or both. The gagging smell of smoke lingered in the rooms and hall, and worse than that, you could taste the air in the places the blaze had been, this arid flavor of earth, acridity and destruction.

  I hated it all.

  But at least the sprinkler systems were sound. They had snuffed the flames, stopped them before they could spread. The bad part was that another had already ignited inside of my shaken soul… and no water works could douse or dampen the intense fear that was creeping into my heart, the feeling that something else was at work with the incident—something sinister.

  The fire department still hadn’t determined the cause of the blaze. A niggling notion in the back of my mind thought about the human error they had conjectured… and dismissed it. We were a lively crew, but a careful one. We had no faulty wiring, no open fires on the floor—I always made sure of that.

  I couldn’t escape the idea… that maybe—more than maybe—this was no accident. And what that would mean if it wasn’t…

  I sifted through the papers on my desk again just to be sure. A knock sounded from behind me.

  “Looking for something?”

  “Yeah, uh, a piece of mail,” I responded, not turning towards Laney’s voice. “I swear I put it right here. In a single white envelope. I swear it was here before my pedicure appointment. I might be losing it…”

  “I think you are.” I turned at that statement, looking at Laney dawdle in my office doorway. “Come on, Kat. This type of thing will fuck with anybody’s head. Our office just had a fire… and unless that envelope is a check for a million dollars from Ed McMahon, that kind of stuff can definitely wait. We need time to process, clean up. Time to regroup as a company… and kick some fucking ass.” She grinned shyly at me. “What are you doing here anyway, Kat? It’s past nine o’clock.”

  “Well,” I took a deep breath, sighing. “I must be a workaholic like my underpaid secretary.” I smiled back at my best friend. “What’s the first order of business, Ms. Brigham?”

  She walked further inside my office, a small smile playing on her lips. She held her own piece of paper. “The first order of business is this…” She handed me the egg-shell colored invitation in her hands. It was for an event. I took it. But as I started to read, the reality of what I was being “invited to” became clearer and clearer. I tossed the vanilla-tinted letter on my desktop.

  “No.”

  “But you haven’t even looked at…”

  “I said ‘no.’”

  “You said you were going to go. You have to go. It’s the biggest publishing event of the year.”

  “And we’ve just had the most devastating disaster of our little publishing lives. Laney…” I shook my hands in the air. “We just had a fire.”

  “But did you die?” She gave me a serious stare before bursting into hysterics. She grabbed my shoulders, shaking them lightly. When she finally got me to look into her eyes, I saw that the stare in hers was soft. My closest friend looked as if she were searching for something there. I don't know if she found it or not, but she continued anyway.

  She squeezed my fingers. “Don't you want to put up a united front? Show those fuckers the fire won't stop our show? That they can try to sabotage this place, slander it, burn it to the ground…”

  “Oh fuck…” I hung my head.

  “That we're going to keep kicking, keep going strong, keep doing what we love and do a damn good job at it?”

  I locked Laney with a serious stare. “So, I’m not the only one that doesn't believe this is an accident?”

  She shook her head slowly. “No… you're not the only one. But until we can prove it, we're just spinning our wheels. The fire department will come to the same conclusion that we’ve come to, soon. But what about the others? Our competitor publications? They might assume we've done it for attention. Or the insurance money if they think we're failing. I've seen companies do more for less. And they flopped anyway.”

  My stare hardened. “We’re not flopping.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it.” Her eyes filled with fire. “I know this is not some fly-by-night venture we have going on here. This business—our business? I believe in it. I believe in you. And whatever it takes, I am here with you until the end. Considering the fire, it might just be the ‘actual end.’”

  Her eyes smiled, but beneath them was determination—hard as stone. I saw the way that Laney could see me, and in her green irises, I felt valued, respected, loved—invincible.

  With one look she soothed my soul in a way that only the people closest to you can. Only your tribe. Your “kill a person and help you hide the body” people. Your family. That's what she been to me. What she was… for almost ten years.

  I nodded my head. Because she was right. Was I going to run from the fire? Or fight it?

  My shoulders slumped with my sigh. “Okay. I get it. I'll go.” She nodded.

  And that was that. I was going to the Literature Today summit. I was going to put the fire behind me. And I was going to meet the man who I suspected started it… in less than one week.

  Five days and counting…

  Five days and counting.

  Say Anything

  The strongest of all warriors are these two -- Time and Patience.

  – Leo Tolstoy

  RISKE

  Five yards. Five yards and counting.

  The first fucker missed me completely, swiping sideways at my belt. A rush of air flew past me as the misjudging man went flying in the dirt, his face eating a mouthful of mud, his body slipping and sliding among the dust and grass as I side-stepped around him with finesse, my senses on high, my head on a swivel.

  He wasn’t the first. And he wouldn’t be the last.

  Another man came at me, this one bigger than the bastard who was currently eating the earth. He used his size to try to block me. Muscles bulged at his neck and shoulders, and they strained against his too-small T-shirt, showing every striation, every vein. His eyes were as glassy as the steroid needles he used to pump into his oversized body, and he looked at me with hunger in his eyes, his stare ready to tear me apart, his instincts primed and ready.

  But mine were better.

  He lunged for me, just as I knew he would, and when he did, I dug my fingertips into his forehead, stiff-arming him with the strength of a steel rod as I pushed him to the ground, hopping over the heap he created. He was the last big obstacle to overcome.

  The others froze after that, and those that dared to even come close slowed to a trot as I tiptoed my way into the end zone, holding the football high. I spiked it to the ground, feeling the sweat pour down my face. I licked at it—triumphant, and as I did, I caught the eye of one cone-devouring Christy Nicholson, waiting in the wings, dawdling in the sort of outfit that made a string bikini look demure. She waved from the sidelines, and if I wasn’t mistaken, she seemed to be doing the same, her small pink tongue laying a path across her lower lip as she watched me—unblinking, her uni-thinking crew no longer in tow.

  I knew she’d done it on purpose.

  If I learned anything about girls like Christy in my almost eighteen years on earth, it was that they performed every little act with a mission in mind. What few wheels the blonde had in her head were turning at warp-speed.

  I pl
ayed the rest of the Flag Football game, putting Christy to the back of my brain. And less than fifteen minutes after the game was finished, “brain” was exactly what she was trying to give me behind the bleachers, dropping to her knees in a practiced way as she placed her hands all over me, running her fingers through the still-damp rivets of sweat that ran over my grass-stained skin.

  She sighed as she put her hands down the front of my pants, pulling.

  “God, you looked so hot on the field.”

  I wiped at the sweat near my navel, laughing. “I was hot.”

  She giggled. That’s all she seemed capable of doing. “I don’t mean that,” she drew out. “I meant this.” She motioned a hand over my entire body. “The entire time, all I could think of was sucking you off. The way you handled that other team made me want to fall to my knees… put my tongue all over you.”

  I smirked. “Yeah… I could see how all the dirt and sticky sweat would make any woman want to do that…”

  She didn’t catch my sarcasm. She grinned. “You have no idea.”

  She sank to her knees. And that’s when it began…

  The worst blow-job I’d ever had the displeasure of having. I cursed under my breath, nearly pulling my cock away. This wasn’t what I had signed up for…

  She used too much “teeth.” Uncoordinated, unprepared, Christy seemed like the type of girl to put a lot of cocks in her mouth because that was what she was expected to do. Not because it really meant anything.

  There was an intimacy she was missing. The art of making someone come with your mouth was so much more than the poor girl had ever seemed to learn, a sophisticated skill she must have skipped over in “Basic Lovemaking 101,” and as she tried her best to please me, moaning and mumbling and mewing over the head of my quickly-wilting cock, it was all I could do not to hurry her along, take control—fuck her mouth and keep it moving. But I wasn’t that type of guy…

  At least, I was trying not to be.

  I grabbed the blowing blondie with two hands, pulling her to her feet. She practically yipped with glee, thinking I was too impatient, too eager to be inside her, but I was anything but. I fought with the words I was going to use to break it to Miss “Badly-done Blowjob.” But soon I didn’t need them.

  I didn’t need to say anything.

  Kat was saying enough for the three of us.

  The brunette barreled around the corner, making a beeline behind the bleachers. She smacked a hand on my chest, pushing. I slyly placed my cock back in its fly, my brow furrowed before I realized what she had slapped on the front of my t-shirt. I looked down to find nothing other than my note.

  The note I’d left for her at Pappy’s. My way of finding the one woman who didn’t want to be found. She pointed a finger at me.

  “You son-of-a-bitch…”

  “Well, hello to you, too, Kat.”

  “You deliberately stole my bracelet, snatching it from my wrist. Did you think I wouldn’t discover what you’d done? Did you think I wouldn’t find out?”

  “Actually…” I took another step back from Christy. “That’s exactly what I’d hoped you’d do. Hence, the letter I left at Pappy’s.” I didn’t dare grin. I captured her serious stare with one of my own, and in the middle of our fiery face-off, Christy “Sucky-Sex” Nicholson shrunk like a wilted flower, backtracking as her steps sent her in the opposite direction until she was almost out of sight, eager to be away from Kat’s earth-shattering anger.

  I would have done the same, too… if I wasn’t so turned on.

  At the moment, I was still taking pleasure in the little treasure tucked in my back pocket, that mini-keepsake I’d captured from the beautiful brunette that afternoon outside of the ice cream shop when I’d surprised her and she swung an open hand directly at my head, almost connecting. I hadn’t meant to steal the bracelet; I really hadn’t. It had just come off between my fingers. But when I finally noticed it, I took it as a sign of fate—a sign that she and I were supposed to meet a second time—a third, if you took into account the day with the sheriff, and I knew this next time would make all of the others worth it.

  For some reason, she fascinated me—this outsider, this foreigner of a girl. It was clear that she didn’t belong in the two-horse town that was taking up most of our summer, and yet she still hadn’t settled in, made herself comfortable. She raged against conformity, rebelling from the fringes of the small Southern society.

  In a way, I had revolted in my own right, risking my neck more than once. I told myself I had done it for the sake of entertainment, the whisper of a thrill. But in reality, I was in open rebellion, using any excuse to set myself apart from the misguided townsfolk, the ones with no knowledge of a world outside their local Little League Games, no perception of life aside from the neighborhood produce stands.

  No recognition of me. Who I was… what I’d been.

  To them, I was Ethan Riske… and that was the way it was going to stay. I wondered who the gorgeous girl Kat was outside of this constrictive, one-cart place. Was she the type of person to joke? To laugh? To desire?

  I saw the fire in her crystalline blue eyes directed at me and wished it were there for a different reason. I shook my head, noticing that Christy had disappeared into thin air—the smartest move she’d made since I met her. I looked at Kat.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” I said, leaning into her. “I’ll give you your bracelet back, if you do one thing for me…”

  Her almond eyes slanted. “As in let you fucking live?”

  “No.” I shook my head. “I know how to live. It’s you that doesn’t seem to know how. But you will.” I started stepping backwards. “Take a walk with me on the wild side. It won’t be dangerous… Not too much.” I grinned.

  Kat didn’t move. “Do I look like Christy?” she asked.

  “If you did,” I replied, “I wouldn’t be asking. I’m not talking about anything but a little old-fashioned revenge. I know you want it just as much as I do. The bracelet was a bargaining tool. You help me out. I’ll help you. Simple as that… That is, unless you want to let Deputy “Don’t Give A Fuck” get away with arresting you.” I shrugged. “I mean, it’s cool if you do. Just thought you’d like to do something about it.”

  That caught Kat’s attention.

  “Like what?” she responded.

  “Oh, like taking a visit to his house… Fucking with his few prized possessions. It’s not like the bastard has many, but what’s a little collateral damage in the face of giving this guy what he truly fucking deserves?” I took out my car keys. “So, what do you say?”

  She started walking. “I’d say you’re crazy.”

  I nodded. “You wouldn’t be the first.”

  “I have the feeling you’ll get us in trouble.”

  “Only if we get caught.”

  “They’ll know it’s us before the day is done,” she commented out loud.

  “And they’ll have no proof.” I smiled. “It’s the great thing about tiny towns. No traffic lights. No cameras on every corner catching your every move. Not enough money in town to make that happen. They’re too busy spending it on the next pie-eating contest or a tarp for the next badly-built bridge they erect. We’re practically invisible. We could disappear.”

  She sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Sometimes I wish I could…”

  “So, disappear with me. Give the town something to talk about.” I raised my eyebrows. “I promise… it’ll be more fun than you’ve had since you got here.”

  “Don’t make a promise you can’t keep,” Kat’s stare hardened.

  And in that second, I would have done anything not to disappoint this girl, would have done anything not to see that defeated look in her eyes that showed me that that was probably all anyone had ever done. Disappoint. Let down the sort of woman that it was impossible for me to say ‘no’ to. I wouldn’t be just another one of them. I’d say whatever I had to… just to get her to stay. I wanted her that much. I made a vow that felt like the
truth, and in that moment, it was good enough for me. I nodded my reassurance.

  “You need to understand something about me. I’m a man of my word. When it comes to making promises I can’t keep, there’s only one rule with me: I never do.”

  I threw the keys to her.

  “Hope you have your license. You’re driving.”

  Twilight

  Nothing keeps. There is one law in the universe: NOW.

  – Alfred Sutro

  KAT

  It was day number five… and the letters had stopped.

  A Whole New World’s offices were still inoperable. The air inside what used to be my company’s comfort was unbreathable for many reasons, and as the firefighters tried to sift their way through the evidence—again, after coming to their conclusion, I stayed away as long as I could, my anger taking form into something solid—something ferocious, wild and fierce.

  I was a woman turned animal overnight.

  In fact, I was quite positive I’d lost my mind, misplaced it somewhere amidst the ashes of the fire, and when the department finally returned with a verdict, I swore I was ready for it, that I could handle whatever may come, but I was only lying to myself.

  The word “arson” changed the course of my life, confirming every nightmare I’d taken to bed, and I took my frustrations out on the one man who seemed most at fault, the one threat that seemed ready to swallow me at a moment’s notice with no remorse or recourse.

  For all I knew… he was the one who lit the match.

  Or more like… had one of his minions do it. Like that sleaze ball Greg, an entitled prick if I ever met one, and the one boyfriend I regretted ever dating. Part of me was convinced that he still wanted to “stick one to me” and after a year of being apart, three hundred and sixty five days of not being together, it still felt as if Greg was somehow out for revenge on me. His defection to TravelTalk with the Foxxes only reinforced what I'd already known—that he was the lowest of the low.