PULSE
Revenge, Number Five
Trevion Burns
PULSE
Copyright 2017 © by Trevion Burns
Edited by: Bare Naked Words
Website: www.trevionburns.com
Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/bAz7oj
All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.
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https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTrevionBurns
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Also by Trevion:
The Revenge Series:
Quiver: Number One
Tingle: Number Two
Purr: Number Three
Yearn: Number Four
Pulse: Number Five
Stereo Hearts Series:
Stereo
Encore
The Romanovsky Brother’s Series:
Taming Val
Claiming Roman
Loving Leo
Finding Gary
The Almeida Brother’s Trilogy:
Lila's Thunder
Thunder Rolls
Lightning Strikes
Stand Alone Novels:
Dead or Alive
This book contains content matter that may be challenging for some readers, including
graphic sexual violence. Reader discretion is strongly advised.
To Shaun
1
Most men didn’t know they truly loved a woman until they’d already lost her forever.
Gage Blackwater had never been that man.
He’d known it from the moment he’d laid eyes on her. He’d told her every day. It wasn’t something that would sneak up on him later in life and catch him by surprise. He’d never look back and regret not showing her just how deeply his love for her had run.
His eyes fluttered when his dark orbs began to burn and blur the street before him, begging for composure he knew might never come. The leather seat of his Rolls-Royce Phantom Coupe rumbled beneath him, right along with every aching bone in his body. The growling engine invited him to take advantage of its power and put the pedal to the floor.
To get away from her as fast as he could.
On one side of the winding cliffside road, a calm ocean sailed by. On the other, the jagged black cliffs Shadow Rock had been named for loomed high in the night sky, kissed by thousands of stars. Outside the passenger window, a plump moon gleamed down on the ebony ocean waters, flirting with a horizon barely discernible in the night.
Gage’s jet black hair moved with the gust sneaking into his cracked window. His nostrils flared, welcoming the gentle ocean scent creeping inside as well, his breathing more ferocious every minute. Every second. Every mile he cleared. Every stoplight he passed. Every inch he grew farther away from her, and closer to the freedom he knew was on the horizon.
He’d given her everything he had and she’d spat on his heart not once, but twice. It should’ve been easy to leave her.
His eyes fell to the speedometer. He was going fifteen in a thirty zone.
He laid his foot on the pedal. The Phantom had enough juice to go ten times faster, but it still took every ounce of his will to put that power to good use.
As the stoplights zoomed by faster, and soon, the dotted lines on the road reduced to a yellow blur, his heart sped up. Sweat droplets formed on his forehead. He gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white. Until the sweat that had accumulated on his palms became so slippery on the leather wheel, he was barely able to turn it.
The number on the speedometer began to fall once more, and Gage tried to remind himself to keep going. To stay strong.
He tried to remind himself that she’d stood him up. That she’d never stop fucking with his heart until it had been reduced to a bloody puddle at her feet.
That she’d be the death of him.
But the speedometer plummeted still.
And it continued to plummet, moving him slower and slower, until he finally drew in the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, yanked the wheel, and made a sharp U-turn. A car he hadn’t realized had been traveling in the lane next to him—a few precious feet behind—slammed on their breaks at his unexpected turn, tires screaming against the asphalt, coming to a sliding stop and avoiding a head-on collision by mere inches.
Cursing under his breath, Gage avoided eye contact as he passed the driver, who he was sure was in the midst of flipping him off, and gave a quick wave out of the driver’s side window to signify his apology.
Only when he was heading in the wrong direction—in her direction—did the number on that speedometer finally begin to rise once more. Only then did his foot lay on that pedal with ease. Only then did his breathing come easy, and the fire in his heart began to die down.
——
“You’re pathetic, Blackwater,” Gage whispered to himself as he eased his convertible onto her street, his rumbling engine the only sound in an apartment complex that had gone deathly silent for the night. Once he was in the parking spot he’d once utilized every night, he killed the engine, and his eyes flew to the glove compartment.
Pressing his lips together, he only allowed himself a precious second of hesitance before leaning across the console and ripping the compartment open. His long arm slithered inside, shuffling through various knickknacks before his fingers landed on the cool metal he’d been searching for.
Blowing a dollop of air through his cheeks, he lifted the gold key into the air. It glimmered under the lights of the aluminum parking structure overhead.
He studied the key he hadn’t used since the evening they’d broken up. The key she hadn’t invited him to use. The key that, if used, qualified as breaking and entering.
Still, he threw open the door of his car, stepped out and approached the front door of her apartment. The door she’d refused to open. The door she’d invited him to visit—only to stand him up. He stared at that door, gripping the key so tightly it’s sharp rivets threatened to break the skin of his palm.
Shaking his head at himself, he shoved the key into the door, unlocked it, and pushed it open.
“Veda,” he demanded, the moment he stepped into the foyer. If she was inside, purposely ignoring him, he wanted her to hear his voice just in case the sound of her front door opening unexpectedly had startled her. “Veda, it’s me.”
Silence.
He took a deep breath, his heart constricting as her scent filled his nostrils and entered his body, licking every inch of his skin until he was sure he felt it moving against his bones. His eyes searched her living room. All the lights were on, even though he knew the more frugal side of her would never leave them that way if she weren’t home.
The aroma of Chinese food joined in with the aroma of her—the one that always permeated her apartment naturally—and he wrinkled his brow, eyes zooming into the kitchen. An uncorked bottle of sparkling cider sat on top of the counter, flanked by two empty glasses.
His blood ran cold.
“Veda?” His demand came harder this time, his voice adopting a subtle shake that hadn’t been present before. He closed the door and moved across the living area on a quick foot. Jerk
ing a hand through his hair, he took up a jog as he hurried toward her bedroom. The light was on there as well.
But no Veda.
His heartbeat tripled as he hurried to the bathroom, the balcony, her closet, and again through her living room and her kitchen, his gaze flitting every which way. In the kitchen, he ripped open the door of the stove and found two plates filled to the brim with fresh food. A stove that was still on, set to a low temperature he assumed was meant to keep the food warm.
Gage licked his lips, his eyes now hopeful, as he stood tall, his posture slightly stiff, smoothing his white button-down shirt as his gaze searched her apartment.
Perhaps she hadn’t stood him up after all. Perhaps she’d called him and then realized she had to run a quick errand before coming back home. Perhaps he’d jumped to conclusions in racing away from her apartment in a blaze of fury the way he had.
He nodded at his own thoughts.
Yes, that must be it.
Pulling off his jacket, he made his way into her living room, not blind to the fact that his heart still wasn’t quite calm, his gaze still not quite still—dashing desperately all over as if she were going to emerge out of thin air.
His eyes landed on her front door as he eased himself down onto her living room couch, leaning forward on his knees, telling himself over and over, that she would probably be here any minute.
And he’d have a lot of explaining to do about why he’d let himself in.
Even more than that, he’d have a lot of explaining to do about the poisonous message he’d left on her voicemail just minutes earlier.
——
Gage only made it five minutes.
His chest heaved as he shot up from the couch, his eyes still riveted to the front door that had yet to open while yanking his cell phone from his pocket. He couldn’t ignore the voice in his head that nagged him. The voice that had sent the hairs on his arms, and the back of his neck, standing on end.
He brought his ringing phone to his ear, pacing the living room floor, his eyes moving from the door to the stove and back again, trying to will himself to believe that he was overreacting.
“This is 911, what’s your emergency?”
“Yes…” Gage reached up and scratched his eyebrow, realizing for the first time how embarrassed he’d be if Veda walked in right that second and rendered this entire phone call ridiculous. “I think I need to report a missing person. I might be overreacting but…” He drew in a trembling breath while covering his heart with the equally quaking pads of his fingers. “I have a bad feeling—”
“Is it a missing child?”
“No. It’s my girlfriend.” He cleared his throat. “My ex-girlfriend. She called and asked me to meet her at her place, but didn’t open the door when I arrived. That’s not like her. I let myself in with my old key and…” Gage’s heart sped up when, as he recalled the night’s events, he began to believe more and more that he definitely wasn’t overreacting. “The oven is on with food inside. She was keeping the food warm. She wouldn’t do that if she weren’t returning quickly, right? But she hasn’t. I know you guys usually like to wait 48 hours, but she’s…” He covered his mouth with his hand. “She’s not here, and I’ve just got… this feeling. I’m worried.” He chuckled softly at himself. Some part of him, perhaps a part of him still in denial, believed Veda was going to appear at that door at any moment. Some part of him wanted that operator to confirm that he was overreacting.
And she did. “That 48-hour rule is actually a big myth, sweetheart. There’s no mandatory waiting period for a missing person, but I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten calls like this and the person simply ended up being stuck in traffic, caught in a long line at the supermarket, or even ran into an old friend on the way home. How long has she been gone?”
“I started knocking on her door about an hour ago. No answer.” Gage laughed at himself again. “She’s pregnant. Did I mention she’s pregnant?” This time it wasn’t just a sickly feeling in his gut, but one rapidly racing up his throat, the bile burning it and singeing his tongue with its repugnant flavor.
“Congratulations.” This time, the operator had laughter in her voice as she responded. “Looks like you’ve already developed that overly protective, fatherly gene. It’s normal to be anxious, but let common sense be your guide. There are a million circumstances like these that can cause unexpected departures from normal schedules. Especially when there’s only been a one hour window. She’s lucky to have a man in her life who cares so much, but when it’s not a missing child, we like to allow a little more time before we start to panic.”
“How much time?” Gage asked.
“I’d give it 24 hours.”
Gage hung up before she could say another word because the nagging feeling in his gut was stronger than ever and it had become apparent that she wasn’t going to help him. That feeling multiplied rapidly until every inch of his body was teeming with full-on dread. A part of him knew that Veda wasn’t going to come walking through that door.
It was a part of him that drove him to dial another number, even though every bone in his body begged him not to.
“Shadow Rock Police Department.”
“Yes, this is Gage Blackwater calling. I need the contact information of one of your detectives…” He swallowed heavily, a pained look staining his face. “Detective Lincoln Hill, please.”
2
Less than five minutes later, Gage threw open the front door of Veda’s apartment, and Detective Lincoln Hill’s green eyes met his across the threshold.
The two men couldn’t help but draw in deep breaths that made both of their chests thrust outward, their chins rising in time, silently recalling the last time they’d been this close to each other. The time Linc had found his neck locked in a chokehold initiated by Gage, and Gage’s balls on the receiving end of Linc’s fist. It was no secret that the two weren’t the best of friends, but they still had one thing in common.
“Talk, Blackwater,” Linc said, voice low and steady.
“She called me and asked to meet.” Gage stepped away from the door.
Linc moved inside, pushing up the long sleeves of his white cotton shirt, eyes sharp as they surveyed the room.
Gage closed the door, peering at his back. When he’d called Linc, all he’d said was that he suspected Veda was missing. Linc had informed him he’d be there in five minutes.
He’d arrived in three.
Gage’s stomach clenched. “She left me a voicemail.” He crossed his arms, still watching Linc’s back as he moved into the living area. “Said she was pregnant and wanted to talk.”
Linc paused and shot a squinted look over his shoulder at Gage. Something flashed through his eyes as his face grew pinched. He clenched his fists at his sides, making the veins in his bulky forearms pulse. His cheeks tightened too, the muscle under them rolling, making his shadowed jaw move. He’d left his long brown hair down. It fell well past his linebacker shoulders in loose waves and partly shadowed the slight flush in his cheeks.
Gage swallowed, feeling the lump moving down his throat. “I dropped everything and raced over here to talk to her, but when I knocked, she didn’t open the door.”
“How long?” Linc’s deep voice boomed.
“Little over an hour ago. I thought she’d stood me up. Got angry. Drove away. Then I got worried and turned around.”
“No sign of forced entry.” Linc eyed the door.
“I let myself in with my old key. All the lights were still on, food in the oven, but no Veda. I called 911, and they said I was overreacting.”
Linc moved toward the kitchen. Gage followed, the stomps of their feet shaking the wood floors, thankful that someone was taking this as seriously as he was.
Once in the kitchen, Linc bent forward at the oven. The police badge hanging around his neck fell forward, along with his white shirt, as he ripped open the oven door. His jaw tightened again when he saw the food inside.
“It’s m
y favorite dish from the Chinese place down the street,” Gage explained. “She likes to put them on real plates and pretend she made it.” He chuckled softly, but his smile vanished in the next instant as a shot of horror blazed through him.
Linc’s hard eyes searched the rest of the kitchen.
Gage followed his gaze, praying a detective would see something he hadn’t.
Linc locked onto the black trashcan across the kitchen and froze for only a moment before moving toward the plastic bin.
“Lid’s off,” Linc said, nudging the lid that had been left on top of the trashcan at a slight angle, an angle that was nearly invisible to the naked eye. The lid shifted, and Linc pointed inside. “No trash bag. No Chinese containers.”
Gage’s eyes widened.
Linc looked over his shoulder, meeting Gage’s eyes, as his voice grew low and gravelly. “Where are the community trash cans?”
A wave of dizziness ebbed through Gage’s body, nearly taking him to his knees, but he managed to remain upright before turning on his heel with a small gasp, racing out of the kitchen without another word. He blazed through the living room, into the foyer, and yanked open the front door, letting it slam against the wall as it flew open. He didn’t even look back as he broke into a run, knowing that Linc was right behind him.
So close behind him, in fact, that when Gage made it to the door of the apartment complex’s trash rooms, located in the same building as Veda’s apartment, one door down, Linc accidentally barreled into him from behind in the doorway, forcing him deeper into the quiet vestibule.
“Veda?” Gage begged, his voice echoing in the empty vestibule that lingered with the smell of mold and refuge.
Linc stepped in and passed him, softly bumping Gage’s shoulder as he did. An action that, once upon a time, would’ve tempted a fight, Gage hardly noticed, his body too busy filling to the brim with fear.
Pulse (Revenge Book 5) Page 1
