Page 50 of Vengeful Eyes
The kitchen is filled with warm and comforting smells when I return. Emily is at the stove, a pile of pancakes growing by her side. My eyes narrow at her, wondering what else she's got to say to me. Maybe I deserve it from her,not that she understands why, but…
“There’s bacon in the grill. Can you turn it?” she asks, light as a feather.“And have you got juice?”
I set about compiling the items she lists for me, placing them on the side. Fruit juice plus the pancakes, bacon and some eggs that she starts to prepare. I take it all through, and the men seem to emerge from the office of their own will, drawn by the scent of food. Their conversation doesn’t falter, though, and I pick up a few words here and there.
Retaliation. Trust. Betrayal. Vengeance.
I take my own cup back out and slump into a chair off from the main table where they are pulling their breakfasts together. Exhaustion zaps every part of my body, and I feel myself disconnect from what’s happening around me. This has all been set in motion due to me, my actions to take my own vengeance. It's fast becoming a reality that will hurt the man I love.
“Hope?”
“Sorry?” All eyes are riveted to me. Nate, Quinn and Benjamin all look at me as if I’ve grown a third head.
“Why don’t you go and help Emily in the kitchen?” Benjamin’s words are placating, like I’m a small child being told to leave the adults to their conversation.
I look around the table and realise I’m not wanted, so retreat to the bedroom, not content to face my new friend after our morning confrontation. She was so concerned last night. Genuinely worried for me. That's not who she is at the moment. Nowhere near. Perhaps we all have masks we wear in this world. It seems there might be more than one or two secrets for us to hold onto.
The mattress catches me gently as I fall down. I curl into myself, searching for my inner strength, that core that has seen me through so much. But at the moment, it doesn't even keep me standing.
A gentle vibration pulls my concentration, and I search for my phone, but it’s not mine. It’s the burner phone, hidden away, but still vibrating to catch my attention.
Time to prove how much you hate the Canes.
Pick up the fucking phone when I ring
Last chance
My fingers fly over the keyboard.
What do you want? You’ve had your intel.
I wait, the moments dragging on as if the seconds don’t want to tick past.
And that’s proved to us that you can be useful. Time for another meeting.
I’ve told you. It’s not easy to meet. My terms, not yours.
Not anymore. Same place. Tonight. 11 p.m.
Dread coils in my gut.
And if I can’t make it?
Then we’ll assume that you want Vico to know of your involvement with us. 11 p.m.
I turn the phone off and tuck it back away inside an old purse in the drawer by the bed. Tears sting at the corners of my eyes and my throat constricts as emotion chokes me. The door opens and I turn away, hiding the weakness that my emotions have cracked open inside of me.
“Hope, what the fuck is the matter with you?”
Benjamin storms in, the tone of his voice leaving no room to question his mood. The calm has gone, along with those placating words he used earlier. I guess the perfect woman who’s been on ‘duty’ for the last two years seems to have deserted me, and him, in the face of my actions.
“I’m sorry.” I turn and sit up. I need to see his face, his eyes, if I’m going to explain this to him.
“You pulled a gun on Cane. Do you remember what I asked you?” He takes a seat on the edge of the bed. “Do you remember that I needed you to stay close to him?”
I nod.
“I’d say that’s pretty fucking futile now.”
