Page 75 of Rebel Revenge

The reaction had gone further than just hearing the news that a random woman had been attacked. I heard things like that on the news all the time and felt sympathy and anger, but then I went on with my day.

The problem was, she was a woman I was responsible for. My dad had clearly wanted her taken care of. If I hadn’t needed the money so fucking badly to bail my damn wife out of her mess, I would have just let Rebel have half. If I’d never met Brooke, I would have still had a nice fat trust fund and not a damn care in the world.

My phone rang, and I glanced at it, irritated by the interruption. “Ah, shit.” My lawyer, Nathan. I was five minutes late for my appointment, and he was already on my case. Freaking Type A people. “What?” I snapped into the phone, not caring I sounded like a spoiled brat. “I’m busy.”

“Yeah, well, aren’t we all? We had a meeting.”

“I’m coming.”

There was a pause where I went back to staring at the people coming and going from Black Industries. Was it my imagination, or did they all look depressed?

“So that complete silence I hear is your engine running? Or you jogging up the stairs of my office as we speak?”

I cracked my neck to ease the tension mounting there. “Fine. I’m not coming. Can we just do this over the phone? Something came up.”

He huffed out an irritated sigh. “I’ve set in motion the relevant paperwork to contest the will and I called in a few favors. You can put the house on the market. We’ll deal with the fallout later.”

I tapped my fingers against the steering wheel impatiently. “Yeah, about that. I think I’ve changed my mind.”

“What? Since when?”

Since I’d found her in my guest bedroom, curled up asleep, innocent as anything when she wasn’t sassing the crap out of me.

Since I’d realized she had nowhere to go.

Since I’d pulled my head out of my California-tanned ass and remembered my old man wasn’t some elderly, infirm, losing-his-marbles millionaire. He’d been young and smart and kind. Generous. And he’d wanted Miranda’s daughter taken care of. Who the hell was I to say no to that? I hadn’t stepped foot in Providence in ten years. I barely took my father’s calls, and generally only when I wanted something. What made me any more deserving of that money than Rebel?

Half of the estate would have to be enough for Brooke’s goons. It was all I had.

“Have you forgotten that you stormed in here a few days ago and demanded I get you ten million dollars in cash?” Nathan demanded down the phone line.

“No. I still need that.”

“Then sell the house and everything in it. Because going up against some new stepdaughter who works as a bartender in Saint View is going to be a lot easier than going up against your father’s business partner. I can’t get at the money in the business. Harold Coker isn’t stupid.”

I ground my teeth together at the insinuation Rebel was. “Don’t talk about her like that. She’s not dumb.”

“I looked into her. She has a ninth-grade education from Saint View High, of all places, and has only ever held down minimum-wage jobs. I’ll put my money on her not being the sharpest tool in the shed. We can probably buy her off with fifty K.”

I ended the call without saying goodbye. “Fucking elitist prick,” I said to the empty car.

Not that I could talk. I was no better. Brought up with every advantage and an asshole because of it. I couldn’t even blame it on my parents. My dad was good and generous, right down to his toes. My mother was all for supporting the underdog.

What did I do? Beside marry a pretty blonde because I needed a woman on my arm. That was about the only thing I’d achieved in my thirty-one years.

Look where that had gotten me. Back in my childhood home, questioning everything I’d ever thought about myself.

But at least I wasn’t Caleb Black, who strode out of his building with his phone attached to his ear. He had his long-sleeved collared shirt rolled to his elbows, but his suit pants, tie, and shiny shoes all screamed businessman with expensive taste. He barked something into the phone, face stony before entering the coffee shop next door.

“Shit.” I couldn’t see inside the building from where I sat, the sun’s glare on the glass windows reflecting back at me. Before I could consider exactly what I was doing, I was out of the car, collar flicked up against the cool wind that warned winter was coming, and strode into the coffee shop after him.

Caleb was impossible to miss. He sat in the middle of the room at a round table, talking on the phone loudly, zero care given the rest of the patrons were just trying to enjoy a quiet cup of coffee.

Troy Hugh, who’d gone by his last name when we’d been in college, sat beside him, staring off to my left with his old acne scars still visible on his cheek. I followed his line of sight and landed on the young woman making drinks behind the counter. She couldn’t have been any older than eighteen, but he watched her with a degree of intensity that made me uncomfortable.

I ordered a drink, and when the older woman taking orders asked me which table I was sitting at, I found myself pointing to the one behind Caleb and Hugh.

“Okay then, honey. Go on. We’ll bring it over.”

---