Reckless Retribution
By
Gemma Pennington
First Edition, July 2016
Copyright 2016 Gemma Pennington
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, without express written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Hot Tree Editing
Cover design by Marianne Nowicki
Published by Gemma Pennington
Table of Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Acknowledgements
About the Author
CHAPTER ONE
“Aaaaaaaaahhhhh!” I let out a blood-curdling scream as I felt him pushing my head into the hardwood floor of my bedroom, my head throbbing in pain under the weight of his hand. His overgrown fingernails dug into my neck with force.
“You worthless human being,” he spat at me.
There was no point in fighting him back. I’d learned from an early age not to, so I just let it happen and waited for him to stop. As the minutes ticked by, he didn’t, and I wondered if he was really going to do it this time. That was a fear I constantly had; I never knew how far he was going to go. His hands moved to my neck. Was he really going to kill me? I started to feel dizzy and lightheaded as the pressure on my neck increased, and I knew I was going to black out. I desperately tried to keep my eyes open and look at the white collage picture frame on my wall. I tried to focus on the collection of photographs I had put in it, hoping it would keep me conscious.
With a jolt, I woke to the ringing alarm on my cell phone. Reaching over to my nightstand, I swiped my finger across the glass to silence it. Sitting upright, I tried to catch my breath and steady my furiously beating heart. I was dripping with sweat. I looked around the room for him, but he wasn’t there, and with the dresser still in place across my door, I knew I was safe. It was just a nightmare. Shaking, I felt my neck for any soreness from his hands, but there was none. Getting out of bed, I slowly walked to the floor-length mirror that leaned against the wall. I shifted my long blonde hair out of the way and inspected my neck closely. There were no marks; my skin was clear. Again, I silently reassured myself it was just a nightmare. I had dark circles beneath my eyes, and they were a sharp contrast to the bright blue of my irises. How they stayed so bright with everything, I didn’t know.
Stepping into my bathroom, I took a shower, washing away the fear that had transformed into beads of sweat on my skin. Once I was clean, I put on my robe and towel dried my hair.
Pushing back my dresser, I walked downstairs to the kitchen and fixed myself a bowl of cereal. Glancing to the front room door, which was closed, I couldn’t hear him moving around, so he must still be asleep. The clock on the stove showed that it was nearly eight o’clock, so I quickly ate the rest of the cereal then rushed to my room to get dressed. I put a minimal amount of makeup on so I didn’t look like the living dead, and pulled on my jeans and a tank top. Grabbing my bag and jacket, I headed out the door to catch the bus to college.
Arriving on campus just as the bell rang, the eager students around me made a rush for their various classes, ready for their day of academia. I waited outside for the rush to pass then made my way over to the science labs for my first class. I wasn’t in as much of a hurry.
From behind me, a skinny arm adorned with thin black and silver bracelets slung around my neck and pulled me into a hug. “Hey, Lo,” she greeted, using the nickname she often called me.
Turning to see my friend beaming at me, I smiled back. “Hey, Taylor.” She was tall, slim, and had the shiniest thick black hair I had ever seen. Her big blue eyes were framed with black eyeliner, and she always wore her signature red lipstick. She had a button nose, which she hated, but I thought it suited her. She always reminded me of a young Megan Fox.
“Guess what?” she asked excitedly, hair swishing around her face as she jiggled.
I rolled my eyes playfully. “What have you done now?” I guessed it would be something boy-related. Probably Jake-related, her current boyfriend. Whom I didn’t like. She always dated the wrong guys, mostly your typical ‘does not conform, has no morals or goals in life’ types of boys. He was one of the reasons I stayed away from his type; he was cocky and in love with himself, and wasted no time at all showing the opposite sex what a catch he thought he was. Taylor thought he was perfect, so I kept my opinions of him to myself, for the most part.
Taylor was smart—way smarter than me. She aced all of her classes and got great grades, which was why I never understood how she had high expectations for herself at school, but low standards when it came to boys.
“Jake’s getting us tickets to go to MusicFest this Saturday.” She did a happy dance on the spot, causing people passing us by to give her funny looks.
“Lucky you.” I sniggered sarcastically while we carried on walking. MusicFest was one of Michigan’s biggest music festivals that played every year. I, however, had no desire to hang around with Jake and his merry men this year, so I was planning on passing it up. “What did he do, steal them?” I shot her a knowing glance.
Her mouth gaped opened at my insult. I couldn’t help it. I snorted at her reaction. Reaching class, we took our usual seats. “No, and he’s getting a ticket for you too.” Her eyes pleaded with me.
I shook my head. “Sorry, Taylor. I’ve got to work. It’s my first shift tonight and I can’t get it off at such short notice.” That wasn’t an altogether lie. Who starts a new job then requests a day off in the first week of work? There might be a chance I could get it off or swap a shift, but I didn’t know how nice my new boss was. I’d only met him once, and he seemed pleasant enough, but for all I knew, he could be a total slave driver who didn’t cut anyone any slack. Plus, I wasn’t that desperate to go on Saturday, so I wasn’t going to risk making a bad impression of myself at work just so Taylor could go with Jake. She didn’t want to go on her own with them because she’d be the only girl.
For two hours, class dragged, and when the bell finally rang for break, Taylor and I headed to the local deli for coffee a few yards away from campus. We tried to avoid the school cafeteria as much as possible because the food and coffee were disgusting, and the students even more so. I think some of the guys on the football team wished Taylor sat in the cafeteria more often, judging by the lustful looks they gave her when passing through the halls. She just laughed it off and stuck with Jake. I was amazed at how uninterested she was; some of them were damn cute.
At the deli, we grabbed our coffees, found an empty table outside, and relaxed on the chairs, basking in the unseasonably warm sun. The weather in Michigan was different from Idaho. Here, you got four seasons all year-round—well, sometimes you got four seasons in one day, from what I’d experienced living here so far. The weather back in Idaho was warm and sunny most of th
e time, except for the occasional snowfall during the winter.
Dad and I moved to Wexford at the end of summer last year, after he suddenly decided he’d had enough of the small town we’d lived in for four years. Kendrick had been the longest time I had ever spent in one place. I finally had good attendance at school and was getting good grades, and I was planning to graduate college there. I thought we were finally settled, but I guess I should have known better.
Dad was erratic, and always had been for as long as I could remember, so no amount of pleading with him to stay would change his mind. Usually, I saw the warning signs, but this happened out of nowhere, so we picked up and left just like that. Leaving behind the life I began to have. All I left with was the knowledge that things were never going to change for me. I was grateful that transferring college wasn’t too difficult, and I could continue with my studies.
Michigan is the fifth place I have lived since mom left nine years ago. That’s five different houses, five different schools, and countless different jobs I’ve had to get to pay our way. I didn’t even know where home was anymore.
I wondered about mom, whether she ever thought about me. She hadn’t reached out to me at all since she disappeared. She probably couldn’t track me down if she tried now. Did she even want to?
“Don’t you start your new job this afternoon?” Taylor’s voice broke through my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I sighed.
“At that fight place?”
I nodded, sipping my latte.
“Are you nervous?” She raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, it’s the last place I want to work, but needs must and all that.” I tried to smile but failed. I didn’t want to work at this place, but it was a last resort. I got laid off my last job at the local thrift store two weeks ago when they decided they couldn’t afford to keep me on because the profits were going down. The manager, Todd, found me this new job. I thought he was joking at first, but he shrugged and told me he didn’t know anywhere else that was hiring. Kal was a good friend of his and said he would take care of me, so I reluctantly decided to trust him.
The place was a mixed martial arts training center or the “fight club” as it was known locally. It was the last place I thought I’d end up working. I don’t condone violence, and the thought of being in the midst of it scared the crap out of me. But I had to think of the money, and hopefully a better job opportunity would come up in the meantime. It was also a short walk from my house, which made the appeal of accepting the job easier to bear. I met with Kal, the owner of the club, last week. He seemed like a decent guy, and he hired me to work the front desk and do some other duties.
“Just think of all the hot guys you’re going to meet,” she said, with a huge grin on her face.
“They were all middle-aged men and were definitely not hot.” I screwed my face up in disgust, remembering the old guys who were in there dripping with sweat, working out. I selfishly didn’t want to tell her that it was a club for all ages. As much as I loved my best friend, she was a man-eater, single or not, but with an apparent exception for the football team it appeared. She went through boys like there was no tomorrow. She was one hell of a flirt, and she didn’t care. I didn’t need her snooping around my new work, flirting with the guys there, or even worse, sleeping with them and getting me into trouble when it went wrong. This, I was keeping to myself, and her very far away from.
After our break, we headed back to school for our next class. The teaching assistant handed out test papers, and groans from unhappy students sounded around the room. I sighed along with them.
Taylor, however, was bouncing on her seat, her blue eyes sparkling in excitement. “I’m so going to ace this test,” she whispered loudly. I looked at her like she was on crack. I had to give it to her; she was a very smart person, even if she did gloat about it. She probably would ace it.
Sometimes, it stunned me how on earth we were friends. We could not be more opposite if we tried. I was probably going to fail this test miserably. Working, running a house and going to school left me hardly any time to study. On my rare free periods, I hid myself in the library, and sometimes I stayed right up to my shifts at work, depending on my job at the time, and of course what type of mood Dad was in when I left the house.
We had an hour and a half to complete the test, which asked us to write about a subject of our choice. It was relatively straightforward, so I was feeling better that I would do okay. I chose to write mine on the importance of preschool education. Although I wanted to be an elementary teacher, this was a subject I was interested in. The class was silenced and our test began.
“Good luck,” Taylor mouthed.
I was going to need it. “You too.”
An hour later, I had completed my work and had thirty minutes to spare. I looked back through my paper, double-checking there was nothing I had missed and nothing more I could add to it, but there wasn’t.
I looked to Taylor, who was writing furiously. She turned to look at me, and her eyebrows rose so high on her forehead I was worried they were going to shoot off. “What time is it?” she snapped, panic etched all over her face.
“Shhhhh.” I looked nervously around the room for the professor. I couldn’t help but laugh out at her. “Calm down, you have twenty minutes left and you’ve wasted three freaking out,” I whispered. She put her head back down, and I swear I saw steam coming off her pen. She finished with literally one minute to spare. The professor announced the end of the test and our papers were collected.
“What did you write yours on?” she asked.
“Preschool Ed.”
She pursed her lips, nodding appreciatively at my subject choice. “I wrote about the effects social media has on today’s society.”
“No wonder you were writing for so long,” I joked. The bell announced it was lunchtime, and we all couldn’t get out of the room quick enough.
“Do you need a ride?” She nodded to her red VW Beetle, which she named Betsy, as we reached the parking lot. I never understood why people named their cars; it’s not like they were pets.
“No thanks. I’ll take the bus.” She offered me a ride most days after class, but I always declined. She didn’t live near me, and I hated to have her drive way out just to take me home. Besides, I didn’t mind taking the bus.
She screwed her face up in disgust that I would rather take public transportation than have her drive me. “You’re crazy.” She shook her head at me. “Well, good luck at the club, call me after your shift.” Her frown soon turned into a smile.
“I will,” I promised, and walked off to find my bus. Nerves were beginning to bubble in my stomach at the thought of my first shift.
No sooner had I opened my front door, Dad’s voice boomed, “What time do you call this?”
“I can’t control what time class finishes, Dad,” I shouted, walking toward the sitting room, where he sat in his usual chair. His feet were propped up, and he was watching sports, which was blaring on the TV. “Have you eaten?” Stupid question, really. He never lifted a finger, unless it was wrapped around a brandy glass.
“No.” He finally glanced in my direction, his gray eyes cold. He was starting to look older than his fifty years. His once clear skin was now red and bumpy from the excessive alcohol, his salt-and-pepper hair short and balding, and his once muscular frame was now thin and frail looking. His diet was mostly liquid these days unless I was home to cook for him.
“I’ll sort lunch,” I mumbled, as I walked to the fridge to see what we had. The contents didn’t surprise me; it was nearly bare. Why couldn’t he get off his lazy behind and do some shopping, instead of expecting me to do everything for him? He didn’t work, and just sat around the house all day, drinking himself to an early grave. Now I’d have to squeeze some time in to go grocery shopping.
I grabbed some pasta and a jar of sauce from the cupboards. While it cooked, I opened the mail, looking for the one letter I’d been waiting on from Texas, but there was no
thing but bills. I placed them in the drawer and served up lunch. I took his food and held out the steaming bowl for him to take. He tore his gaze from the TV to look at the contents before taking it from my hands, muttering something underneath his breath. I turned my back on him and ate mine in the kitchen. I practically had to force it down, because my stomach was in knots. I ate what I could and shoved my bowl in the sink. The dishes would have to wait until later.
I quickly changed my clothes and settled on gray skinny jeans and a black fitted t-shirt. I remembered Kal saying something about having an employee T-shirt to wear, so no doubt I would change into that once I got there. Smoothing my hair into place, I walked down the stairs and shouted to Dad that I was leaving.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he blasted from the front room.
Anger coursed through me at the gall of him. How else did he think we got the money to pay for the groceries and bills? “Work, remember? Someone has to make money.” The words came out before I could stop them. I bit my lip and immediately cursed myself for saying it. I heard his bowl smash against the wall and his feet thudding across the floor. Before I had time to react, he was in front of me and I felt the back of his hand whip across my cheek, causing it to sting, and my eyes watered in response. Wincing, I pressed my hand to my face.
“Who do you think you are?” he snapped. His eyes had glazed over, and there was never a good outcome when he got like this.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” I apologized, trying to diffuse the situation. I was too scared to turn my back and walk away in case he launched a tirade on me. It wouldn’t be the first time.
He took a step closer to me, so his face was only inches in front of mine. “Get out.” He pointed to the front door, and I walked as quickly as my legs would take me, slamming the door shut behind me. Trying to keep myself together, I rounded the corner of the street before stopping to look at my cheek in my little compact mirror. It was blazing red, great! Showing up to my first shift at work with a shiner—what an impression I was going to make. Ironically, it would probably make me fit right in. I dabbed my industrial strength concealer on the swelling. Damn him, I couldn’t wait to be free of him.
Reckless Retribution (West Warriors Book 1) Page 1
