Pros & Cons of Vengeance

by Wasp, A. E.

  Wes gave him a skeptical glance but did as he asked.

  And honest to God, Carson appeared on screen, along with half a dozen other white men. His hair was different in the photo - slicked back and thinner, somehow, but it was unmistakably him.

  “So… that’s your real name, then?” I wondered.

  Carson smiled. “You’re adorable too. What does real mean? Legally, I’m Ben Waters. I have his driver’s license, courtesy of the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania. But then… the State of Arizona says I’m Carson Grieves. I also bear a striking resemblance to Peter Nobocook of Ketchikan, Alaska.” He looked at Leo and winked. “Not that our association can be proven.”

  “Of course not,” Leo said drily. “I wouldn’t dream of trying.”

  “Back up the bus,” Ridge said, because it wasn’t enough for him to be my personal No Fun Police, he had to rain on everyone else too. “You’re telling me you… Ben Waters, or whoever you are… you donate money to John Harlan’s election campaign? You bankroll this fucker?”

  I had to admit, it was a valid point.

  “That is pretty low,” Leo said, shaking his head.

  Carson shrugged, unconcerned. “Keep your friends close, but your enemies closer. And if at all possible, gentlemen, keep them on your payroll.” He clapped his hands once. “If we want to figure out his weaknesses, we need to get close. And it’s time for John-Boy to pony up some of the goodwill that Ben Waters’ donations have purchased. Senator Harlan is about to get a new BFF.”

  I smiled up at Steele. This was a decent start.

  “Enough! That’s… that’s enough,” Ridge yelled, and everyone turned to look at him. But he was looking at Steele.

  “What?” Steele demanded.

  “You… you keep touching him,” he said, nodding towards me. “Your hands are all over him, and you’ve been… making eyes at each other the whole time!”

  I blinked, stunned and… well, fine, a little embarrassed. I tried to move my leg away from Steele’s hand, but he clamped down firmly on my knee.

  I could feel the change in Steele’s demeanor, from his easy going, gentle humor to something way darker and more volatile. “What crawled up your asshole, Pfeiffer?” he growled, voice warning Ridge to think carefully before he answered.

  Ridge ignored the threat. “He’s vulnerable, you overgrown toddler.” He jumped out of his seat and glared down at Steele, clearly not processing just how much bigger Steele was than him. “He’s… he’s been abused. He’s a fucking victim. And you’re sitting there just… taking advantage of him!”

  At first, I didn’t really get what he was saying. Who was vulnerable? Who was a victim? But as I watched the emotions play over Ridge’s face — guilt and anger, sorrow and confusion — I realized he meant me.

  Because being beaten meant I was weak, and choosing to be a sex worker meant I was vulnerable? Anger stole my breath and made my nose tingle, but if I cried right now, that would be the final humiliation.

  Steele looked stricken by Ridge’s accusation. “No,” he started to say. “I’m not—”

  “Stop.” I grabbed his hand in both of mine, trapping it against my leg.

  The others looked at me like I might either explode or shatter, but they didn’t have to worry. I wasn’t a danger to anyone in the room, except fucking Ridge, who still wouldn’t look at me at all. As if I were contaminated.

  I pulled Steele’s hand off my leg, and he nodded acceptance, twisting slightly like he was trying to put some space between us. Then in one smooth movement, I lifted myself bodily into his lap. The shock in his eyes was a beautiful thing, and so was the way his arm immediately braced against my back, supporting me.

  I threaded my hands into the hair on either side of his head, holding the wiry curls like reins.

  “Steele?” I whispered against his lips. “Honey? Am I taking advantage of you?”

  Steele’s drifted up to the ceiling, and he pursed his lips like he was searching his memories for any transgression I had enacted upon his body. Bless him. He shook his head slowly. “No, sir,” he answered finally. “No, you’re not.” His smile said it was a damn shame, too.

  “Thank goodness,” I cooed. “And I can say for certain that you’ve never taken advantage of me. Crisis averted. You can sit down now, Ridge.”

  “But…”

  Sweet baby Jesus and all the little angels too. He was so fucking stubborn.

  “Ridge. Ryder. Pfeiffer.” I let my voice go subarctic, but I didn’t raise it at all. Later, there’d be time for yelling, but for now, we had bigger fish to fry. “Sit down, or I swear to God I will tell everyone what happened the time you stole the Shaggin’ Wagon.”

  “The… but you promised,” he hissed, not moving.

  I looked at him, like I was staring into my own eyes. “Once upon a time, there was a green Nissan Vanette that belonged to one of the fine, upstanding citizens of Alamosa, Colorado,” I began. “It had curtains all around the interior. And Ridge thought it would be hilarious to steal it off the street and park it in the middle of our high school football field.”

  “Enough,” Ridge said, gritting his teeth.

  But it wasn’t enough. Not if he was still standing there looking at me like that.

  “So he broke into it,” I said, still holding his gaze. “While I went to go pick the lock on the gate around the field.” I twisted on Steele’s lap, looking around the room at the others. “Since I was his very willing accomplice.”

  “Breck Mason Pfeiffer,” Ridge warned.

  Ooh. We were both pulling out the middle names now. Shit was getting ugly.

  I was undeterred.

  “Sure enough, the van comes along, right on time, only it tears through the gate, up over the pavement and out onto the field. Like, I expected flashing lights or demons from hell to be chasing him. And then Ridge jumps out, bow-legged, and ran off. I thought he’d injured himself.” I smirked. “But no, it turns out what happened is that my brother, the great thief Ridge Pfeiffer, stole a car that people were fucking in.”

  “Oh my God,” Steele breathed, staring at Ridge.

  “Uh huh. A couple of stoner lovebirds, communing behind the curtains. Only Ridge didn’t realize it at the time. He thought the bumping of the car meant it needed new shocks.”

  “A mistake anyone could have made,” Ridge bit off tightly, folding his arms over his chest.

  “Sure, bro. But then, just as Ridge was turning into the high school parking lot, the woman climaxed. She started screaming, ‘Oh, God! Oh, my fucking God!’'”

  “I thought someone was being murdered!” Ridge said defensively, daring me with his eyes to continue. But I would. Oh, I would.

  “I like to think the motion of the van helped give the woman the ride of her life,” I said solemnly. “But alas, Ridge had an unfortunate reaction to being so startled.”

  I glanced back around at the others again. Wes looked confused.

  “He shat himself,” I clarified.

  Stunned silence filled the room.

  “You… in the middle of… really?” Leo asked, halfway between horror and laughter.

  “I’ve heard worse,” Steele said soothingly. “Hell, I’ve done worse.”

  But Steele’s words only made Ridge madder. “Don’t patronize me,” he spat. He shook his head at me, slowly. “I don’t know what the hell you thought you were accomplishing by embarrassing me.”

  “What? Do you feel victimized?” I taunted. “Weak and vulnerable? Need me to protect you, bro?”

  “No. I feel pissed,” he said. “And like I want to kick your ass.”

  I nodded. “Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, Ridge, exactly. And that’s exactly how I feel too. I’m not weak or vulnerable. I’m a little bit embarrassed. And mostly, I want to see this fucker burn. Get it now?”

  Ridge seemed startled for a second, then he frowned like he wasn’t quite sure I was being honest. But finally, he sat down, and I told myself that was a victory. For now.

&
nbsp; I cleared my throat and rearranged myself so I was sitting back in my own spot on the sofa, though quite a bit closer to Steele than I had been. “Sorry,” I said. “For the… theatrics. You were saying, Carson?”

  Carson smiled at me, slow and real. “I, for one, appreciate some good theatrics.” He sighed. “But about Senator Harlan. I would suggest that we wait and see where he’s going to be, and work around that. I’ll call him and set up a dinner.”

  “He’ll be in D.C. on Saturday,” I told them. “He’s throwing a party. He, uh, wanted Danny and me to attend.”

  “That works,” Carson said. “I can meet with him there.”

  “Better idea!” Wes interjected, pulling something else up on the screen. “Looks like Harlan’s going to be right in our back yard on Wednesday, as keynote speaker for a Faith Fundamentals dinner.” He looked up. “What’s the over-under on him having an after party for his besties?”

  “No doubt whatsoever,” I said. “He’s absolutely arrogant enough to have a sex party after a religious gathering. Probably gets off on it.”

  “Hmmm,” Leo said, looking at Carson.

  Carson looked back warily. “Hmm? I don’t know if I like that hmmm.”

  “Oh, you definitely won’t,” Leo said. “Never fun being the bait.”

  “Christ,” Carson said wearily. “I’m gonna go get my ass videotaped, aren’t I?”

  “Luckily, it’s your best side.” Leo smiled.

  Steele and Ridge groaned.

  Carson sighed from the depth of his lungs. He threw himself against the back of the chair, waving a hand gracefully yet somehow dismissively, in the air. “Fine. I guess I can sleep with some cute little thing in the name of the greater good. If I can find any one at all amusing in the middle of Florida. I mean, if I have to.” He sounded exactly like the kind of bored trust-fund baby any crooked politician would love to have a hold over.

  He caught me staring at him and winked, then sat straight up, resting his elbows on his knees. “That will work.” He was all business now, all traces of the spoiled rich kid gone. “Ben Waters already has a bit of a reputation as a playboy.”

  “Good. And I’ll also plant some lovely little articles from the Pittsburgh newspaper,” Wesley added. “Nothing too obvious, of course. Maybe some grumblings from your Board of Directors?”

  “Hey!” I waved my hand, feeling like I’d lost the plot sometime between them deciding to send Carson to the dinner and him getting his ass taped. “Explain it again for those of us who don’t speak fluent con?”

  Carson turned to me. “The best way to get close to Harlan, to get him to trust me, is to let him get info on me the way he does with his other marks. To make him think he has something he can hold over me.”

  “If he thinks Carson… er, Ben Waters is in his pocket, he’ll be more likely to relax,” Steele explained, “knowing there’s that whole mutually assured destruction thing happening.”

  “In other words, Ben wouldn’t be able to take Harlan down without exposing his own indiscretions,” Leo said. “And with as many people as Harlan has in his pocket, there’s no question whose word would be believed, if it came to that.”

  “And to sweeten the trap, Wes is going to plant some news articles online to make it look like Ben’s been caught being naughty before and can’t risk the scandal of being caught again,” Ridge added.

  Wes nodded. “Nothing makes an asshole like Harlan feel friendlier than knowing he has someone by the short and curlies.”

  “Which works out fine,” Carson said, his jaw set tight. “Since nothing pisses me off more than someone who thinks a position of power means he can take whatever he wants.” He stood up from the couch. He nodded at everyone. “I’m off to make some calls.”

  Wes hit a button on his laptop, and John Harlan’s face disappeared from the screen. “I’m gonna go get creative with the news,” he said.

  “Hey,” Leo warned. “Nothing too terrible. I feel like Carson’s… attached… to this ID.”

  Wes saluted on his way out. “You got it, chief.”

  “Pfeiffer,” Leo said to Ridge, “come chat with me for a minute.”

  Ridge looked at me, then back to Leo. “Later,” he said.

  “Now. I have questions about that incident in Malaga.” Leo stood and walked toward Ridge.

  Ridge’s attention was caught. “What incident in Malaga?”

  “The one with the Matisse.”

  “Oh! That was beautiful! But it wasn’t me,” Ridge said sadly.

  “No, but I have a theory about how it was done,” Leo said, wrapping an arm around Ridge’s shoulder. “Let’s talk.”

  Ridge looked at me and shook his head once, almost apologetically. “Yeah,” he told Leo. “Yeah, okay.”

  They left, and Steele and I were alone in the room. I puffed out my cheeks and sighed. “Sorry about my brother,” I said to Steele. “God. It’s like he can’t even stand to look at me, he’s so disgusted.”

  7 Steele

  Against my better judgment, I didn’t pull Breck back onto my lap. That really would’ve been taking advantage of him. I settled for putting my arm around him. He settled against my side with a sigh, his head resting on my shoulder. “I don’t think Ridge is disgusted by you.”

  “No? You think it was a sign of respect when he called me a whore? When he couldn’t make eye contact? Or was it the way he called me an idiot for giving money to our mother?”

  The ache in his voice fucking killed me.

  “I don’t have any brothers, but it looked to me like he was feeling guilty.”

  “What does he have to feel guilty about?”

  “Maybe letting you get into this mess?” I tried to speak confidently, though I really had no idea what Ridge was feeling. I hadn’t known any of these guys for very long, and maybe I was just projecting what I would be feeling onto Ridge.

  Breck pulled away from me, and I missed the warmth and the feel of his body immediately. He shifted on the big leather couch, tucking one leg under the other and turning toward me, a scowl on his face. “See, that’s the thing!” He poked me with his index finger hard as he emphasized his point. “He didn’t let me do anything. I chose to be an escort. I made this decision, and you know what? I’m okay with it! You wanna know the shameful, slutty truth? I even like it sometimes. Not every john is a creeper like Snow White. Sometimes the sex can be really hot, and I get off on it. How disgusted do you think Ridge would be if he knew that?”

  I didn’t know how Ridge would feel about it, given that Breck was his brother, but I thought it was pretty hot, too. Sitting next to Breck on the plane yesterday, I’d decided I’d pay good money just to see him and Danny get it on while I watched. I thought it would be better not to say that.

  “I know that. I know you’re a grown-ass man. But Breck, you almost got killed. It’s not crazy for your brother to be worried.”

  “I could get killed crossing the street,” he said emphatically, giving me another poke. “Life is risky.”

  “Tell me about it. But people always use that expression to justify doing really risky things, when the truth is, life is dangerous enough without doing stupid shit that you don’t need to be doing.”

  “Says the man who, what, takes bullets for a living?” He shot off the couch, prowling around the room as if sitting still was driving him crazy.

  We’d never talked about the shit I’d done, but his guess was pretty accurate. I watched him as he paced the room ranting and waving his arms. He was so gorgeous and so passionate, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to look away from him.

  I understood where Breck was coming from, but I also understood Ridge a little better. Breck made me want to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him safe, and I’d only known him a few days. It had been a long time since I’d felt so personally protective of someone. If I could, I would do pretty much what Ridge had done. Set Breck up in a safe place, with a financial cushion so he didn’t have to be a rent boy, and send him to scho
ol so he could have a good life.

  Crime didn’t pay. Not in the long run. Sure, Charlie had died rich, but he still had died young. The longer you were in this life, the harder it was to get out. An education would give Breck more choices than I’d had, either when I joined the military or when I got out.

  Joining the Army had seemed like an easy choice. Lord knew, my mama didn’t have any money set aside for college. Daily survival had been touch-and-go at times. But I damn sure wasn’t going to spend my life shooting swamp rats and living off the bounty, either. Once I had joined up, it was as if every part of me had jumped up and down screaming, Yes. This is what you’re looking for. This is what you need. Nothing would do but for me to get into Special Forces, to take the most dangerous assignments. If I was going to be a soldier, I was going to be the best soldier I could.

  After years living like that in places sane people avoided, what was I supposed to do when I got out? Become an accountant? Write poetry?

  Like Breck had said so boldly, so bravely, about being a hooker, I liked my job.

  And it wasn’t something people talked about in polite company, but, yeah, I liked being good at my job, too. I fucking loved the adrenaline rush that came with it. Whether it was from fear, excitement, terror, or relief, the feeling was addicting. Laying your life on the line every mission, living on the edge every day, was like a drug.

  But after a while, it had become impossible to tell the difference between feeling scared, thrilled, and murderous. That was when I knew it was time for me to get out. The transition hadn’t been easy. Chasing that high had led me into some seriously dark places and had given me even more demons to deal with. I’d found there weren’t a lot of legal ways to get that feeling in the civilian world, but luckily, some semi-legal occupations offered a taste of it. I was trying really hard to stay walking right on that edge without falling over into some dark place.

  So instead of going out and shooting the bad guys no matter how much they deserved it, I tried to focus on protecting the good guys. And Breck was definitely one of the good guys.

  I must’ve been quiet for too long, because Breck was staring at me, his head tilted like a dog that’s just been asked a question it can’t answer. “Protecting people, even taking bullets for them, is something I need to be doing,” I said.