Revenge Forsaken Page 2

“I can take the spotlight, if you want,” she said, flipping her short, straight hair back with dramatic flair.

  “You and I both know you’re the real star of the show,” Remy teased her and she smirked.

  “Tell that to Angus.”

  Remy snorted and moved toward the appointment calendar on the desk.

  “You know,” Jillian chirped. “We could probably afford to get with the times and invest in a computer now.”

  “I like seeing things on a page,” Remy replied instantly. It was a conversation they had often. Jillian had bright ideas about top-of-the-line security systems and Mac computers while Remy was happier with the simplicity of paper.

  “You’re killing more trees this way.”

  “You better not be arguing the environmental benefits of technology,” Remy shot back, his eyes traveling down to his next appointment. To his surprise, the afternoon was clear.

  “How did that happen?” he muttered, again to himself.

  “Oh,” Jillian replied anyway. “I wasn’t expecting you in today.”

  Remy glanced at her through his peripheral vision.

  “What?”

  “Well, I knew you were coming in to do Mario but you know…” Her eyes glimmered and Remy groaned silently.

  Of course she remembered. She always does.

  “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” she screamed, running over to throw her arms around his neck and kiss his cheek.

  “Jesus, Jillian.” Remy was embarrassed but even the humiliation couldn’t cut away the stabbing pang that the words brought to his ears. “You know I don’t celebrate birthdays.”

  Not anymore anyway.

  “You can pretend to be miserable, Rem, but I know you. Anyway, what kind of wet blanket doesn’t love his birthday?”

  One who doesn’t feel right being alive. One who lost half his life, half his life ago.

  Of course Remy said none of those things. He knew Jillian meant well, even if her enthusiasm was causing him physical pain.

  “Anyway,” Jillian said, unhooking her frail arms from around his neck. “I didn’t book you any appointments this afternoon because I didn’t think you’d be wasting your day here.”

  Remy managed a weak smile.

  “I’m doing what I love,” he told her and he meant it.

  “Pity that girl wasn’t old enough,” Jillian chuckled. “She would have made you an Instagram star and you could have done her tat today.”

  Remy grimaced at the reminder.

  “I really need to see about security,” he said and Jillian grinned.

  “So what are you going to do today then?” she asked as the door opened. Her eleven o’clock appointment had arrived.

  “Be right with you, Cole,” she called brightly and the biker nodded, plopping his huge frame into a chair. Remy stared at the man as he thumbed through a fashion magazine, the contrast of a burly, leather-clad and goateed man looking at the upcoming spring line of women’s wear spinning his mind slightly.

  What a time to be alive.

  “Rem?”

  He blinked and turned back to Jillian.

  “I’m not sure,” he replied truthfully. “Maybe I’ll call a friend.”

  “I’m glad to hear you have some of those,” Jillian teased, gesturing at Cole to come inside as she set up her station.

  “Me too,” Remy sighed, reaching for his coat.

  “Tell Luke I said hi!” Jillian called as he moved toward the door.

  Christ. Am I that predictable? Or is Luke my only friend?

  It was hard to tell which thought was more abrasive so he dismissed them both and hurried to leave before he could get sucked into his own melancholy.

  “Will do,” he agreed.

  “Hey, happy birthday, boss!” Cole yelled before Remy could step outside and he paused to cast the man an odd look.

  “How the hell did you know it was my birthday?” Remy asked, stunned. Cole grinned a surprisingly white beam and shrugged.

  “You’re a celebrity now,” he said. “Your birthday was on TMZ.”

  Remy couldn’t stop the groan from falling out of his mouth but Jillian waved him away.

  “Go!” she said. “Keep a low profile. You’ll be fine.”

  But even as he shuffled out the door, Remy was sure that he would never be fine again.

  If I was ever fine to begin with.

  2

  Luke sauntered into La Garrotte with his usual air of confidence, but the smile he wore on his face was still a surprise to him. It was hard for Remy to reconcile the brooding bad boy he’d known since grade school as this businessman in a three-piece suit.

  They say love changes you, Remy mused, although he’d never given the idea much thought. Relationships weren’t really his thing and while he’d entertained a few over the years, Remy knew that he’d never be able to love anyone entirely, not when he never felt whole himself.

  Still, he was happy for his best friend, college classmate and army buddy.

  Shit, we’ve been through everything together. He was the one who helped me through Simon’s death. He’s the reason I joined the army.

  “Hey,” Luke said, clapping him over the shoulder. “How goes?”

  Remy eyed him warily.

  “Good,” he lied. “You? Looks like the corporate life is working for you.”

  Luke snorted and plopped beside him at the bar, signalling the bartender.

  “You know I’d still rather be in the octagon but Meredith…”

  He trailed off but Remy had to wonder how much of that was true. Yes, Luke had been a successful MMA fighter before his father had passed away but Remy secretly believed his friend was happy to give up the guts and gore of pummeling people to a pulp for the slightly less violent world of conglomerate management.

  “Well, you’re still the second-best looking Vaughan I know,” Remy quipped and Luke snorted.

  “I’d argue with you but Rachel hasn’t aged a bit.”

  “Oh, Rachel, yes. I meant Meredith,” Remy teased. “I guess you’re just the ugliest Vaughan then.”

  “The competition is fierce between my wife and sister,” Luke agreed, nodding at the bartender.

  “Hello,” he said pleasantly and Remy noted with some interest that Luke’s eyes didn’t show the slightest bit of interest at the very attractive woman. The old Luke would have already had her on the bar, spoon feeding him whiskey.

  He really loves Meredith.

  “It’s no one’s birthday today,” Luke began and Remy groaned. “There is absolutely NO special occasion happening, certainly not this guy’s thirty-first. So I’m going to order a bottle of scotch for no reason except that I’m very thirsty and it’s Tuesday.”

  The woman seemed confused by the double speak, not that Remy blamed her but Luke didn’t give her a chance to question what he was saying.

  “Johnny Walker Black, please? And we’ll move to a table.”

  “Okay…” the bartender said, her name tag reading “Lisa.” Her delicate dark brows furrowed.

  “Uh…happy birthday?”

  “I just said it wasn’t his birthday!” Luke cried in exasperation and Remy had to laugh.

  “Leave her alone,” Remy snickered and offered Lisa a quick grin. “Thank you. We’ll be over there.”

  Remy gestured toward a table in the corner and Luke followed.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled at Luke without meeting his eyes. “I know you always remember.”

  “Meh,” Luke replied. “I know you like to forget.”

  Their eyes met and they shared a wan grin.

  “So?” Remy insisted, eager to change the subject. “How is it really? I haven’t seen much of you in the past few months.”

  A look of contrition passed over Luke’s face and he shrugged.

  “What can I say? It’s time consuming and when I have a minute to breathe, I’m spending it with Mer. Between her case load and my schedule…”

  Luke trailed off as Lisa set an unopened bottle before them with
two rock glasses.

  “Do you need ice, gentlemen?”

  “No thanks.”

  She wandered away but Remy noticed that she seemed to be watching him out of her side vision.

  “I think she wants to give you a birthday blow job,” Luke whispered. Remy snorted and pulled his eyes away from the pretty brunette. He wasn’t in the mood to bring anyone home that night. Birthdays were for spending alone.

  Not that it always worked out that way.

  “You seeing anyone?”

  “Nah,” Remy replied, reaching for the bottle. “Too much going on.”

  “What about that hot little redhead who works with you? Jillian?”

  Remy’s eyes widened in shock.

  “You’ve been watching Blotted!” he cried, moderately flattered that Luke would bother.

  “Of course I have,” Luke replied, seeming surprised at Remy’s shock. “When did you ever miss one of my fights?”

  Unexpectedly, a wave of sadness shot through Remy and he lowered his eyes to the table.

  Luke really did become a replacement for Simon. Would he and I have been so close if Simon was still here?

  “Are you thinking about your parents?”

  Remy’s head shot up and he glared at Luke.

  “I wasn’t until you asked that.”

  “Sorry.”

  Luke smirked mirthlessly.

  “I only ask because I ran into your mom a couple weeks ago.”

  A fusion of emotions ran through Remy concurrently but before he could decide how to feel about it, Luke continued speaking, making the decision for him.

  “She deliberately ignored me.”

  Of course she did. As far as Trevor and Tanya Anders are concerned, if I’m dead to them, everyone connected to me must be too.

  “Drink,” Luke instructed and Remy obeyed without protest.

  “We might need another bottle if this is where the conversation is going,” Remy warned. Luke shook his dark head of hair and sank back into the booth.

  “In other news,” he sighed. “I heard that Chaminga is looking for investors.”

  Remy’s back tensed like a steel rod had been jammed into his spine.

  “For what?”

  “Who the hell knows?” Luke snickered, taking a long drink. “Anyone who listens to that moron ends up losing brain cells in the end.”

  “Why do you say that?” Remy asked, clenching his fists inadvertently. Luke’s royal blue eyes narrowed suspiciously.

  “What did you do?” Luke demanded, his own posture tightening as he spoke. “Please don’t tell me you gave that piece of shit any money.”

  Not just any money. A quarter of a million dollars, Remy thought, his face stiff.

  “He’s got some interesting ideas,” Remy replied slowly. “I’ve met with him a couple times and he walked me through some investments.”

  “Oh fuck me, Remy. Why didn’t you tell me about this? How much did you give him? When? What did he say he was using it for?”

  The questions fired out at Remy with such rapid-fire succession, he didn’t know how to dodge or answer them.

  “I didn’t give him any money,” Remy lied. “I’m just saying, he’s got some valid ideas.”

  Luke exhaled and sat back with relief.

  “Shit, Remy, you scared me,” Luke breathed. “I thought you’d fallen for one of his scams.”

  “Scams?”

  “Chaminga is not the same guy we knew when we were enlisted. Or maybe he is but we never really knew what he was until we got back,” Luke explained. “He’s taken half our unit for hundreds of thousands.”

  “If that’s true, why hasn’t he been prosecuted?” Remy demanded, his face flushing.

  “Knowing he’s a conman is one thing,” Luke chuckled. “Proving it is quite another, particularly when he’s claiming the money given was an investment. Trust me, when I learned what he was up to, I had Meredith do some digging. All he does for ‘work’ is run drugs and God knows what else. From what we’ve dug up he’s trying to buy his way into the big game – and if he’s playing hard ball with them it’s no wonder he’s needed the cash flow. They don’t play nice. He’s a real piece of shit, honestly... a slimy, bottom feeding, leech. If he gets desperate enough, though, he’ll be crossing some nasty lines to pull his ass out of their sling. Don’t get roped in by what you thought knew about him when we were in the Middle East. From what Mer dug up, there’s some question about his discharge from the army.”

  There’s no way. Chaminga was solid in the service and he’s a solid civilian…isn’t he? He can’t possibly run that big of a con.

  But the more Remy thought about it, the more he realized how little he really knew about the man. True, they’d served together for two years but what did that really mean? It wasn’t like Remy had called on his lawyers to check Chaminga’s story or history. It hadn’t seemed necessary, not after everything they’d been through together in Afghanistan.

  “Are you sure you didn’t give him any money?” Luke demanded, sensing something on Remy’s face. “Because if you did and he won’t give it back, I can pay him a personal visit and—

  “In case you’ve forgotten I’ve pulled your ass out of a few spots in the past – I don’t need a fucking caretaker now!” Remy snapped with more harshness than he intended. Luke seemed taken aback by his tone and threw up his hands in mock surrender.

  “Woah, I’m just trying to help.”

  “There’s nothing to help with,” Remy insisted, a little less heatedly. “I had no idea you were still in touch with him is all.”

  “I’m not. That doesn’t stop him from holding his hand out. His radar’s out on all of us, who’ve made something of ourselves since we got home.”

  Remy didn’t know what to say but he was sure his blood pressure just climbed up several notches.

  “Sorry I burst your bubble about the guy. He was a lot of fun but you must admit, we didn’t have dossiers on who we were before we enlisted and we’ve all drifted enough to not know who the hell we’ve become since.” Luke echoed Remy’s thoughts of moments before.

  A flash of darkness shadowed Luke’s eyes as he seemed to remember things about the Middle East, that they’d all do just as well to forget.

  Remy certainly couldn’t argue that logic. It was hard to say who the real Remy Anders was anymore. He’d been searching for his own identity for so long, it was impossible to know what part of him was real.

  “Hey,” Luke said, waving his hands to catch Remy’s vacant stare. “You okay?”

  “You’re just a shitty conversationalist,” Remy joked, reaching for the drink so abruptly it’s contents sloshed up.

  “I’ve been told that,” Luke snorted, raising his own glass. “Let me pose a toast.”

  Remy waited, a phony smile plastered on his face.

  “To the brother I never had and never wanted,” Luke chortled. “May all your years go smoothly and without woes.”

  “Hear hear,” Remy agreed, clinking his glass to Luke’s. “Thanks, brother.”

  But when Remy drank, he downed the rest of his glass in one swig, feeling the burn of the alcohol along his esophagus, warming his gut and seeping into the taut muscles of his neck and back.

  His eyes darted back toward the bar, perhaps feeling the intent stare of Lisa who pretended to busy herself wiping the countertops.

  “You deserve a birthday present,” Luke encouraged lightly as he saw where Remy’s eyes rested. “Get those woes out of your system, if you know what I’m saying. A year older, new priorities.”

  “You suck at innuendo, Luke,” Remy remarked dryly, reaching for the bottle. “I never know what you’re saying.”

  His friend laughed but Remy was the furthest thing from amused even if he managed to keep his nonchalant expression on his face.

  Because if what Luke said was true, Remy’s woes were just beginning and he had just lost a big chunk of his life savings. Losing that money wouldn’t break him, not by a lon
g shot — but he was pissed at himself for falling for the scam — it was now a matter of principle that he was cheated!

  You know what you need to do, Remy thought firmly, squaring his shoulders. Find out if what Luke is saying is true and if it is — get your money back.

  The only problem was, if what Luke was saying was true, it wasn’t going to be as easy as that and he knew it.

  It’s your goddamn birthday, the worst day of the year for you. The last thing you need is to find out you’ve been robbed of a quarter of a million dollars. God damn it!

  Abruptly, Remy rose, the liquor sending a wave of headiness through him.

  “Where are you going?” Luke demanded, looking concerned. Remy shot him a genuine beam and wink.

  “I’m going to get my birthday blowjob,” he announced, strutting toward the bar.

  3

  When Olive was fourteen, she tried out for the student talent show at school. Her friends had been at her side, cheering her on as she rehearsed the lyrics of Brittany Spears “I’m not a Girl”.

  “You’re amazing, Ollie!” Rebecca cried. “I bet Jason Collins is going to ask you out as soon as you step off stage.”

  “I’m so jealous of your voice, Olive,” Britt Taylor sighed, the note of envy dripping happily into Olive’s ears.

  Olive had practiced day and night until the night of the competition, choosing a loose halter top and torn jean shorts as her costume, her midriff bared slightly as she tried to mimic one of her favourite singers.

  “Is Daddy going to be there?” she had asked her mother nervously as they got ready to go to the school. Sondra sighed and averted her gaze.

  “He wants to, hon, but you know how busy he is.”

  Disappointment welled in Olive’s chest but she didn’t let her mother see it. It wasn’t Sondra’s fault that her father was so important, after all.

  He does the best he can to provide for us. I shouldn’t be so selfish.

  “But when you come home with first prize, baby, he’s going to be so proud of you!”

  And that would simply have to do.

  But when Olive stood in the wings, waiting for her cue, her eyes fell on her dad sitting at her mother’s side in the third row, almost invisible beyond the bright lights of the stage.