Page 32 of Vengeful Rotten Casualties

“I eat when I’m hungry,” I assure him. “Which you’ll see as soon as it’s done.”

It’s his turn to hum in the back of his throat as he, too, uncaps his water bottle. The two of us stand there for a moment more, staring at each other. Maybe we’re sizing the other up, or maybe we’re waiting—whatever the case, I think I’ve finally had enough of dawdling.

“I have a list of clients that your father procured for me,” I say.

Luc stiffens, his fingers squeezing tight against the water bottle until the plastic creaks and threatens to crumple completely, but doesn’t stop me. I turn my face away as I continue, finding something else to look at, moving my eyes over the lines in the wood flooring.

“He saved a special group for me,” I say. “So it wasn’t as many as it could have been, but it wasn’t a small number either. There were a few that weren’t particularly bad. Likely just lonely and not completely aware of my circumstances—Thomas was always good at fooling gullible people. They paid what he asked and they were important business clients, so I made them happy and did what they asked when prompted.”

I move around the island to my bag and reach inside, pulling out a phone. I swipe through the lock key and move towards the files I keep buried in one of the many fake apps I’ve got uploaded to it.

“I have a detailed list of all of his clients, but a smaller one of the most dangerous,” I say.

“And what are you planning to do with them?” Luc finally asks.

I freeze, my fingers hovering over the screen. “I thought I made my plans clear last night,” I reply, looking back up at him.

His expression is unreadable.

“I’ve already started the process of getting rid of them all.”

“You’re killing them,” he states.

“Only some of them,” I correct. “The worst of the worst. The rest, though, I’m happy with outing and letting the justice system take everything from them.”

“Which ones have you done so far?” he asks, moving around the island to join me at my side. It’s like I was waiting for this moment. The second he comes near and peeks over my shoulder at the screen in my hand, a wave of relief rushes over me.

He’s in. He’s really in.

I take a breath and move down the line, pausing over the names I’ve already crossed out. “Quite a few,” I tell him. “I’ve only killed the bottom feeders that I have on my shorter list, there’s only about two more I have to go through and I saved them because I need information.”

Luc’s chest touches my spine and my brain scrambles. His arm moves around me and his thumb touches the side of the phone in my hand. “Bennington,” he says absently. “I know that name. I think there’s a guy on the football team with that last name.”

“Yes.” I swallow with a nod. “Which brings me to another reason why I came back to Eastpoint.” I turn around and face him, half expecting him to pull back, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t move away at all and, instead, locks his hands over the lip of the counter on either side of my body, pressing me back into the wood and marble.

“Go on, Micki,” he presses. “Tell me.”

“Dash Bennington’s father is on my list,” I say.

Luc frowns. “He’s a friend of the guys,” he says. “Dash. He’s one of their boys.”

I nod. “Which will make it easier to get a hold of him.”

“Why do you want to get a hold of Dash?” Luc asks, his frown deepening. Jealousy? Maybe. But it’s hard to tell. His voice deepens, but he doesn’t sound angry. “If you’re going after his father, don’t you want to avoid the family? You don’t want them to suspect you.”

I shake my head. “Not Dash,” I answer. “Because I suspect he’d be more than happy to help me.”

There’s a brief pause and then understanding reaches Luc’s eyes. His head goes back and his lips part in surprise. He blinks. “Shit.”

Across the room, the timer for the oven beeps, disrupting the moment. Luc stares at me and then curses again before stepping away. I slowly turn back, watching him as he heads for the oven and presses a button before reaching into a nearly barren drawer and pulls out one of the two oven mitts to withdraw the glass dish from the heated insides. He sets the quiche on the stove and tosses the oven mitt onto the counter before turning back to me.

“Fuck, they’re not going to be happy about this,” Luc says through clenched teeth. “They’re going to want to be involved. They like the guy. He’s a good player.”

“They’re already involved,” I remind him. “Eastpoint is their kingdom and I’m here, disrupting that. I should be grateful that they’re planning on being so helpful.” Whether it was by a stroke of luck or fate that brought Avalon here and me back, I don’t know. Whatever created these circumstances, however, has made it clear that my revenge is the right path. It would be harder if it wasn’t. It’s right—ridding the world of men like Andrew Bennington.

“They’re going to need to know the circumstances and reasons why he’s on the list,” Luc says.

I nod. Whether or not they know is irrelevant to me. I’m not concerned about if they’ll ‘allow’ me to kill him. I’m going to regardless. I’m not asking for permission. But I suspect that when they know the true extent of Bennington’s disgusting preferences and corruption, they’ll be more than happy to provide their assistance and connection to his son.

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