Seeking Our Revenge

by Liberty Parker

  “You can sell that load of manure to a different farmer. I’m not buying it.”

  “The things you say,” he leans over, clutching his stomach in laughter. “Farmer, you,” he continues laughing. I didn’t think it was that damn funny! “God you’re a pistol, no wonder Atticus calls you Hellcat. You are that and so much more,” he says, wiping under his eyes.

  “Watch it, Jonas, or these claws are going to come out and scratch you all to hell,” I say, placing my hands on my hips for emphasis.

  “I like women who are fiesty, so I might like that form of play.”

  Damn, why is it I can never get one over on the Nelson brothers? And their version of foreplay is much different than mine. “Get out of here so I can get dinner started,” I demand.

  “Fine, but let me leave you with this thought. The only woman he ever loved and trusted ran out on him.” With that, he turns and walks out of the room. What woman is he talking about? Is she the reason he won’t even give a little and give me a chance? Why is it even something I’m worried about? Destiny. She’s my priority. I keep having to remind myself of this fact so I don’t wallow in my own problems with a certain man.

  Getting back to business, I get busy making dinner. I turn on the radio and decide I’m in a country and western type of mood. I find a station that is playing the most current songs—and blast it. I don’t know if the guys listen to this type of music, but for now, this is my domain so I shake my booty, and let my worries go.

  Once dinner is done, I call up to Jonas using the phone, then hang up and grab myself a soda and my plate. It’s nice out tonight, so I’m gonna eat on the deck that’s just off the media room. It’s screened in, so there are no bugs, thank God, and the serene view will hopefully calm my nerves. I’m still so fucking pissed at Atticus. I wanna beat him over the head with his own arm.

  “May I join you?” Silas asks, coming out on the porch.

  “It’s your house,” I say to him.

  “So, about Atticus…”

  “Stop right there,” I say holding up my hand. “I’ve already had the ‘Atticus is a good guy’ speech from Jonas. I don’t need to hear it from you as well. I’d like to eat in peace if you don’t mind. We can talk about anything else you want to, but not him.”

  “I’ll just say this much and then leave it. The only woman he ever cared about, our mother, jetted out of our lives when we were kids. Cut him some slack because up until you came along, he had no close physical contact, other than the occasional fuck with anyone of the female persuasion.”

  Huh. Well, he told me more than Jonas did and now my mind is whirling. Why would a mom leave her kids? How could she do that? I mean, my mom was a Grade-A piece of shit growing up, but she was still there, at least. I wonder if his overall hardness has more to do with her leaving and less to do with what he does for a living. More importantly, I wonder if I got under his skin the way he got under mine.

  “So what do you do?” I ask, before taking a bite of my salad. I’m a helluva good cook, and as much shit as I give them about eating clean, I enjoy the variety of fruits and veggies they have. Plus, they get good cuts of meat, something that was scarce in my recent past.

  “Whatever needs to be done,” he replies. “This is pretty good,” he says, taking another bite. “Bet it’d be good with steak, too.”

  “It’s just salad, Silas. Nothing fancy, I definitely didn’t set out to cook a gourmet meal or anything.” I can tell he’s trying to suck up, but I’m not in the mood to deal with anything Atticus related right now.

  “So, about the job,” he quickly changes the subject. “When will your clothes, wig and accessories arrive?” Good save, I think to myself.

  “Tomorrow, when are we going to put our plan in motion?”

  “As soon as we make sure your disguise is unrecognizable. So more than likely Friday night.” It’s Tuesday now, so that gives me plenty of time to get my head cleared and ready to take on this guy. I hate waiting three days, but we need to get the information from the man I’m meeting in order to find her.

  “Sounds good, let me know if you’re able to find any likes and dislikes of this guy, other than looks that is. Should I use an accent?”

  “What kind of accent?”

  “I don’t know, British maybe?”

  “Let me hear it,” he demands, leaning back in his chair, his full attention on me.

  “Cheerio…”

  “No,” he immediately cuts me off.

  “You didn’t let me finish!”

  “I can just tell that’s not gonna work,” he replies. “Plus, that was horrible, my old nanny was Spanish, and could’ve done a better job than what you just did. Why not talk like you normally do?”

  “It was just a suggestion,” I pout.

  “Well, consider it taken under advisement and squashed.”

  “Fine,” I mumble. I thought it was a pretty good impression, personally. But whatever, he’s the boss so I have to do what he says.

  “Stop pouting, it doesn’t suit you.” He sternly states, looking at me like a father would while speaking to their child.

  “Yes, Dad.”

  “Smartass. Think I’m understanding Atticus’ attraction.”

  “Yep!” I implore. “And fuck Atticus.”

  “Think you already did that, it’s what has y’all fighting in the first place.”

  “We aren’t fighting because of sex, Silas. We’re actually fighting because he’s an insensitive jerkoff.”

  “Wow, okay, I wasn’t aware I was speaking with a kindergartener. Should I try and break it down further so you understand the words coming out of my mouth?”

  “Wow! What did y’alls dad do? Sit you all down and teach you how to make a woman feel an inch tall?”

  “Hmmm…funny thing about our dad. He was an ex-soldier, and meaner than a drill sergeant in heat. We were more scared of him than a rattlesnake. He wasn’t a man who sat us down and taught us anything, other than how to take a fist, and how to take an insult and still keep on ticking.” Okay, now I feel like a complete ass. First, their mom abandons them, and now I find out their dad was an abusive asshole.

  “Sorry,” I mumble out. What else can I say? Sounds like it’s a miracle the three of them shower on a regular basis and aren’t complete psychopaths.

  “Nothing to apologize for. We survived, but it affected each of us differently.”

  11

  Atticus

  My head’s so fucked up, I decide to stay away from Piper. I don’t even go down and grab dinner, I have an energy bar in my bedside table. I’ll just eat it and deal. It’s not like I’ve never gone nights without eating anyways. There are some times that I’m on a stakeout that I don’t eat for forty-eight hours.

  Things that haven’t ever crossed my mind before she came along are just…there. I don’t do feelings. Haven’t in a very long time. Dad made sure of that one when he beat the shit outta me for crying when Mom left. He locked me in my room for a few days, but Silas managed to sneak food in to me so I ate, at least. He’s always looked out for us and I’m sure that’s what he’s trying to do now, sitting out on the porch with her. He’s cleaning up another of my messes.

  She deserves anything better than me. I’d be a horrible father, all of us would, which is why I never planned on having any kids of my own. I don’t know if my brothers would like to be fathers one day, but I sure as fuck don’t wanna be. It’s one of the reasons I freaked the fuck out when I realized I hadn’t used protection. With the example I have to use, the kid would be better off without me as a part of his or her life.

  Listen to me, talking like a little bitch. It was one time, what are the odds that she’ll actually get pregnant from it happening once? Who the fuck am I kidding, it would be my luck that she’d end up with triplets or some shit. I couldn’t put her or my kid on the street, guess I need to make sure she sticks around at least long enough to find out if the damage is done.

  I turn on my television, sit
back and relax. Might as well settle in for the night, lord only knows I don’t feel up to another stumble down the stairs if I ruffle her feathers. I find an old rerun of a television show I liked when I was in my teens, so I get lost in the show and forget about all of my woe’s. Fucking hell, I pull the pillow next to me and sniff, my fucking bed smells like her. I get up and strip my bed, there’s no way in hell I can sleep with her smell clinging in the air.

  I go to my closet and pull out a fresh set of sheets, once the bed is made, I grab the air freshener from the bathroom and spray it down. There’s no way my mind can think of anything else if I can still feel her here. If I can smell her, I can feel her…simple as that.

  I won’t examine how it makes me feel that her smaller body isn’t tucked against me while I watch my show.

  Not at all.

  Not in this fucking lifetime.

  I wake with a start, having heard something that broke through my slumber. Out of bed, my gun in my hand, I creep down the hallway until I reach the door where the noises are coming from. Slowly, I open the door, unsure of what I might face. When the moonlight catches her slight form on the bed, I see the tears streaking down her sleeping face. The foreign feeling of guilt all but brings me to my knees because I know that somehow, I’m responsible for her tears.

  Opting to leave her with her dignity, I leave the room as quietly as I entered, closing the door softly behind me. Retracing my steps to my own room, I sit heavily at the end of the bed. From the moment I saw her, she’s been fucking with my head.

  Laying back down, I close my eyes and fall fast asleep. Hopefully, this time there’s no interrupted sleep. The sun glaring through the blinds wakes me the next morning. I get up and get dressed, my stomach rumbles in hunger so I sneak my way out of my room and head downstairs. My hope is that I’m awake long before she is so I can eat, then get down to my office without having to cross paths with her. When I enter the kitchen, Silas has prepared some toast, and is spreading some peanut butter on it. It’s what we used to make as kids, I always struggled to eat it, but it became his favorite breakfast.

  “I need an energy drink,” I say, surprising him. I never put sugar or that harsh of a substance in my body. I have to be fit to do what I do for this job.

  “Get some juice, it’s healthier and won’t have you wired the entire day.”

  “Always playing the big brother,” I tease.

  “That’s because I’ll always be your big brother,” he jokes back. It sucks being the middle child sometimes. I’m never older than Silas but always older than Jonas.

  “C’mon, we’ve got plans to solidify,” I tell him, quickly putting an energy drink together. I opt to use some natural substances instead of the powder shit that Jonas prefers. “Make me some toast, would ya?” I ask Silas.

  “With or without?” he questions.

  “Without. Still can’t understand how you can eat peanut butter on toast.”

  “Butter?”

  I think for a second then realize it’s a minimal amount so I nod. I’ll also grab an apple or something to help tide me over until lunch time. “Yeah. Just not sopping like Jonas does.”

  “You’re one picky as hell motherfucker when it comes to food,” Silas states, dropping two pieces of bread in the toaster.

  “This is a lean, mean, fighting machine and it needs the proper fuel,” I fire back.

  “That’s one machine whose ass I can still kick,” he responds.

  “In your dreams,” I mutter.

  “Were you dreaming last year when I took you down?”

  “I was drunk, asshole!” The only bad shit I do allow to enter my body is alcohol. A man needs something to help him unwind after all. Even then, I don’t drink cheap shit.

  “Would you like some cheese with that whine?”

  “Damn, we’ve reverted back to being teenagers,” I dryly respond.

  “Hey, those were good days,” he smiles at the memories. We were rough, rowdy and full of havoc in our younger days. We were the talk of the town and the boys that fathers warned their daughters about. We were the bad boys, the ones everyone saw and locked their doors. No pun intended…they really did, deadbolts and all. I don’t know why, we never stole anything from anyone. Our old man would have beaten us to death if we did, that’s for damn sure. But play hard? Hell yeah.

  “Let’s get to work. Gotta make sure this plan is foolproof.”

  We grab our breakfast and walk down to our offices. We don’t share one, but they are connected with a jack-n-jill bathroom. I’m going over all the intel that Jonas has come up with for the douche that Piper is going to ‘meet’ on Friday, trying to make sure that we have her as protected as possible.

  This man is a kinky motherfucker from what I’m gathering. He likes to not only keep a stash of redheaded women for himself, but he has had a sex dungeon built underground at his home. Looks like Piper may have bitten off more than she can chew by taking on this assignment. She’ll have to play the role of submissive and that’s something I don’t foresee happening.

  I can’t see her sitting back and taking orders from anyone, she gave her captors hell even with putting her in chains and holding her sister hostage. I’m not sure if she’s that good of an actress. We’ll have to warn her and see if she’s still feeling up to the challenge.

  “Silas? You busy?” I yell out.

  “No, what do you want?” he asks, walking into my office.

  “Not sure she’s gonna be able to handle it,” I state. “Have you read what Jonas found?”

  “She can do it, as long as we don’t let her speak with a British accent.”

  “What?”

  “Ah, nothing, just something she tried out over dinner last night.” Yeah, the dinner that I purposefully avoided so I didn’t see her. Somehow, I think I’m the one suffering here, because she prances through the house like it’s hers, while I skulk around and keep to my office or my bedroom. This is the time it hits me like a sledgehammer. I help pay the bills here, why the hell am I the one hiding in my room? Man, I need to go to the bathroom and check and see if I’ve grown a vagina. I’m suddenly feeling ball-less. Not like myself at all, this little slip of a woman has entered my domain, and makes me run like a scared little bunny.

  “He doesn’t look good, what did you say to him, Silas?” Jonas asks, coming into my office.

  “Nothing, really. He called me in here and then went somewhere in his head,” Silas replies. “Maybe he hit his head when they came down the stairs yesterday?”

  “Someone needs to talk to her about his likes so she can be prepared, I need a beer.” I don’t care that it’s morning, it’s five o’clock somewhere.

  “Beer, it’s not even nine a.m. What the fuck?” Jonas asks.

  “You’re better off not knowing,” I reply. Actually, it’s me trying to save face in front of them. I can’t imagine telling them what was just trolling through my mind.

  “Maybe I should call the doc, just in case,” Silas muses, looking at me side-eyed.

  “Nah, I think he just realized he’s in hot water where Piper is concerned.”

  “Boiling,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Silas replies. From his smirk, I know he’s heard me, so I flip him off and go to my mini-fridge and grab a beer.

  “Anyone else?” I ask as I pop the top and guzzle half the bottle.

  “Uh, no, I usually like to let my breakfast digest before I indulge in alcoholic beverages,” Jonas states.

  “I’m waiting for the steak that Piper’s planning to grill later,” Silas says. Steak? She’s cooking my motherfucking steaks? All I have to say is she better make one for me too. There’s no way everyone is going to sit around, eating my meat without me. Man, that did not come out right in my head.

  “What else is she making?” Jonas asks. Why the fuck does he care?

  “Said something about twice-baked potatoes with the fixings, a salad, asparagus, and a chocolate cake.”
>
  Okay, there’s no way in hell I’m not partaking in that meal.

  Then it occurs to me, how in the fuck did she get those ingredients into my house without me knowing? Deciding I’ve had enough, I stomp back upstairs to confront her.

  Only to stop when I reach the kitchen and see her puttering around, humming to herself, as she gets the stuff for the cake. “Piper,” I say. I see her jump a little before she calms herself.

  “Atticus.”

  Alrighty then, she’s gonna make this hard on me, huh? Well, I’m the master mindfuck so game on, sunshine! “Understand you’re making steak for dinner.”

  “Yep,” she replies, popping the p. “That okay with you?”

  “As long as there’s one for me, don’t care what you make.” Just hope she doesn’t decide to poison mine.

  “Of course, Master, anything else, Master?” She bows like a servant. I’m not sure I like this flippant side of her, even though I do enjoy the verbal sparring we’ve done in the past.

  “Knock it off, Piper. You’re not a servant here and you damn well know it.” Okay, my mindfucking is obviously lacking because she’s looking smug.

  “How do you like yours cooked?” she asks.

  “Medium rare,” I answer.

  “Good choice, I’ll make sure you get it cooked the way you want it.” She turns around dismissing me.

  “We need to talk to you about the guy you’ll be approaching.”

  “What about him?”

  “He has…particular tastes,” I try to figure out how to say it.

  “As in?”

  “He, let’s just say, he likes his women submissive. Like down on your knees, chained up type of kink.”

  “Well, as long as he doesn’t get me back to his place, I should be fine. I know how to get to men, Atticus. I can play the part well.”

  “Is that what you were doing with me?” The question slips out before I can stop it.

  “No, not you,” she whispers, turning away from me.

  “Me either,” I say, walking out of the kitchen and back down to my office. I spend the rest of the day buried in work and decide that tomorrow will be the day I recon the bar and make sure I know all the entrance and exit points.