Page 27 of Rebel Revenge

And he had. He’d run a multi-million-dollar business that he would leave for weeks at a time to visit me across the other side of the country. I’d never bothered to do the same for him, despite the fact my job was not nearly as demanding nor important.

I glanced around the room, focusing on anything but the officer’s words. I couldn’t fall apart. Not here. Nothing appeared terribly out of place, until my gaze snagged on a gold purse, tucked beneath one of the seats on the bride’s side of the room.

I prodded my bottom lip with my tongue, playing with the cut while I debated whether I really wanted to retrieve Rebel’s bag for her after her asshole of a boyfriend had socked me one just for trying to help her.

My father wouldn’t have thought twice.

My mother had cheated on him and left him for another man, and my father had still been the bigger person. He’d let her go and made sure things were good between them, for my sake. As a result, I’d grown up with parents who were best friends, even though they weren’t together.

I waited until the cops were all distracted, photographing blood speckles on the floor, and then strode forward, scooped the purse up, and tucked it beneath my jacket. No doubt her wallet and phone were inside, and she’d want them back. I’d be pissed if my phone was held hostage in police evidence, so I would spare her the hassle and drop it off to her.

“Oh, Vaughn. You’re here.” Mom’s voice was laced with tears, and her eyes were red-rimmed. “I’m so glad you came back. We were so worried, but the police wouldn’t let us go until we gave them statements.” Her high heels clicked across the tiled floor, and she stopped in front of me, grasping both sides of my face and tilting my head down so she could see my expression. “Oh, baby.”

I pressed my lips together, not wanting her sympathy because it would only make me cry. I flicked my head toward the cops. “Do they think you did it? Being the ex and all, you’re probably the prime suspect, right?”

She chuckled. “No. Well, I hope not. They didn’t say anything like that.” The smile fell off her face. “I heard the paramedics say it was an overdose…”

I shook my head. “Do you believe that? Dad didn’t do drugs…”

My mom went quiet.

I looked at her sharply. “What? He didn’t!”

“No, not in the time that you knew him. He’s been clean for a very long time.”

I frowned. “Are you joking?”

“We all used to party in our early twenties, Vaughn.” My stepdad, Karmichael put an arm around my shoulders. “It’s easy to fall back into that lifestyle if the person you’re with never gave it up.”

I couldn’t in my wildest imagination picture my parents or Karmichael partying it up, high on drugs. Not now. Not even in their twenties. But maybe it explained why my rebellious teenage stage hadn’t ended until I was twenty-five and married.

My mom’s teeth dug into her bottom lip, and she grimaced. “I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have said that. You didn’t need to know. Now that’s going to be the last memory you have of your father…”

I clutched Rebel’s purse tighter. “No, it’s fine. It’s good I know. At least I’m not going to be worried about them accusing you of anything now. Though the press outside is spreading the rumor that it was a murder-suicide, so I guess you’re in the clear anyway.”

Mom’s jaw dropped open in shock, but it was temporary. In the next instant, her features turned fierce. “I loved your father with every ounce of my heart. We’ve been friends for decades, and I won’t have anyone questioning that or his integrity. Murder-suicide is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. You let them try saying that to me.”

Karmichael put his arm around my mom’s shoulder’s and kissed a tear from her cheek. “You know your mom. She won’t have anyone saying a bad word about Bart.”

“Damn straight I won’t. He doesn’t deserve that.”

In spite of the situation, I smiled. Because this was the thing I loved most about her. She had spent her entire life defending the people she loved. Me, my dad, and Karmichael being the main three. But I’d seen her go to bat for her friends, work colleagues, and even random strangers. If there was an injustice, she addressed it. Her soapbox didn’t stop at her Facebook profile. She’d been front-row center at Black Lives Matter protests. She’d fought for gay marriage to be legalized. And she’d spent two hours one night, barking down the phone to me about the unjust way a trans woman was being treated on the internet and how she wasn’t going to stand for it.

I kissed her cheek. “If anyone says anything to me, I’ll be sure to send them to my mommy.”

She chuckled and hugged me back. “You do that. What are you going to do now? Are you going home to Elizabeth?”

I stiffened at the mention of my wife’s name but tried to hide it by stretching. “I can’t. The police want me to hang around for a while, in case they have any more questions.”

Karmichael hummed his agreement. “Mmm. They said the same thing to us. You can come and stay with us until they conclude their investigations. No need to stay in that hotel.”

Mom looked at me hopefully, and so I felt like even more of an asshole when I told her no. “I think I just want to be alone.”

“We can pay for your hotel.”

My face burned with embarrassment. “No. Mom, please.”

She hadn’t come right out and said, “Hey, I know your company went bankrupt and you’re flat broke,” but she might as well have. The mortification was all the same.

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