Edge Of Retaliation : Books 1-3

by Bella Jewel

  My heart feels like it’s going to fall out of my chest.

  My hands shake, and I place them on my lap so Jo doesn’t see.

  “Tanner suggested breaking into our place and seeing if they can find answers. Andrea agreed and said she could get us out of the house so they could make it happen.”

  My head is spinning.

  I feel sick.

  They’re going to break in? Go through my things?

  I can’t judge, of course, I’ve done the same to them. I just still can’t believe they actually believe the stories they’ve made up in their heads. The lies they’ve forced themselves to believe. Now they’re going to try and find proof, just to make themselves feel better about what they’re doing?

  It’s so wrong.

  “What?” I rasp.

  “Yeah, which is why I needed to tell you as soon as possible. Tatum even went for it, which made me a little suspicious, because if they don’t find anything, they’re back to believing maybe you’re telling the truth and he doesn’t want to risk that.”

  He’s going to plant something.

  It makes perfect sense. If he puts something in my place, to look like I’m lying, then everyone will go back to believing it and continue on keeping the heat off him.

  It’s genius, really.

  Well done, Tatum.

  You lying asshole.

  “He’s going to plant something at our place,” I state.

  Jo’s eyes widen. “Oh, god, I didn’t even think of that.”

  “This is bad, Jo. This is so fucking bad. Tatum is going to make me look guilty, and they’re going to believe it, and they’re never going to stop. I’m never going to get away from this. I can’t take it anymore.”

  I grip my chest as panic takes over, and Jo quickly reacts, standing and grabbing my arm. “We need to walk, honey. Come on.”

  We hurry out of the café and walk down the sidewalk, me still on the verge of a panic attack, Jo still telling me over and over that it’ll be okay.

  I don’t know how it’ll be okay.

  These people, they’re so determined to make me suffer for Celia’s death. So determined to make sure I live the rest of my days remembering what I’ve done.

  I can’t take it anymore.

  I can’t.

  I make a pained sound in my throat and stop, leaning forward and clenching my eyes shut.

  “Callie, look at me!” Jo orders, forcing me up and turning me to face her, placing her hands on my shoulders. “You’re strong. You’re the strongest damned woman I know. I’ve given you this speech before, and I’m giving it again because it’s true. You can’t give up, do you hear me? You do not deserve this, and I’m not going to lie down any further and let you suffer. Because of that, I have a plan.”

  “A plan?” I croak, taking a deep, shaky breath.

  “Yes,” she confirms, “a plan. This has gone on long enough. We’re not going to keep playing their little game. We have enough, enough to call them out, enough to bring them to their knees with the truth. We’re going to use it.”

  “We don’t have enough,” I say, my voice frustrated. “We have a few emails and Chase’s number, that’s it. We still don’t know exactly what happened to Celia, and we still can’t prove she took her own life.”

  “They don’t know that, though,” Jo goes on. “All they need to know is that we know, they don’t need to hear any more than that. Chase fell for it, we can make them, too. We print the emails, we share the story, we tell them we’ve located Chase and we tell them what we know. It’ll be enough. If we’re smart, it’ll be enough.”

  “How the hell are we going to do this? Just waltz over and throw down?”

  Jo grins. “No, ma’am. We’re going to catch them in the act, and then we’re going to make them wish they never messed with you.”

  I swallow and tip my head to the side, narrowing my eyes. “Go on.”

  “We’re going to be there when they break in.”

  Oh, god.

  This does sound dangerous.

  But I like it.

  “ARE YOU SURE THIS IS a good idea?” I ask Jo as we sip cocktails at the local bar the next night. “I mean, so many things could go wrong.”

  I glance at my phone where yet another phone call from Ethan is flashing through. I press the decline button. I have nothing else to say to Ethan, nor do I want to hear anything he has to tell me. He made his choice, and nothing he can do now will change how much that choice hurt me.

  “You’re right, it could go wrong, but are you willing to keep dealing with what you’ve been dealing with? They’ve kept low for a few weeks, but that won’t last forever. If they decide to go with the fact that they think you’re still guilty, then they’re going to keep tormenting you until they feel like you’ve suffered enough. I’m not going to let that happen, so we’re going into that damn house and we’re going to turn this around so hard on them, they’re not going to be able to deny it.”

  She’s right. I know she’s right. I can’t deal with this any longer. The fact is, they’re not going to let this go, they’ll get answers, or they won’t, either way they’re too scarred and they’re too broken and they’re not going to rest easy until they make me suffer for those wounds. I’ve suffered enough. I don’t need to suffer anymore.

  “I’m still not one-hundred-percent sure this is the right path. I wish I had a little more information to throw down, in case they call our bluff.”

  I’m hesitant to go with Jo’s plan, even though I agree that we need to do something. I’m not sure people as smart as them will believe that I have the answers. I only hope that we can make them believe we actually know what happened to Celia, even though we technically don’t. All we know is that Chase caused something to happen to her, something bad, and she got HIV from it. Then he changed his name and ran. I’m guessing Tatum helped him do that.

  It’s not really anything solid.

  “I don’t think they will. All we have to do is make them doubt Tatum for just a second and they’ll ask him and he’ll have no choice but to come clean.”

  “If he doesn’t, if he says we’re lying ...”

  “Then we ask him where Chase is, and if he’s not lying, to bring him home. He’ll falter. I know he will.”

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” I ask her, because, deep down, I know she likes Tatum. She’s disappointed in him, sure, but Jo sees beyond the bad in people, and I know she sees beyond the bad in Tatum. There is some sort of connection there.

  I feel like there is a lot more to it than even I know, and I wonder how much they’ve actually spoken that she hasn’t told me.

  It worries me, for her sake.

  I know how easily it is to fall when you’re already down.

  “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I? Don’t say Tatum, because I barely know him.”

  “I know, but you two have become friends ...”

  She shrugs. “I’d do anything for you, Callie. Anything.”

  I love that about her, I truly do.

  I also don’t want that to come at the expense of her happiness.

  “I know you would,” I tell her with a grateful smile. “That’s why I love you, but I can handle this on my own if I have to, I’m strong enough.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” She raises her brows. “But the fact is, I’m not letting you do it on your own, so you can count that out.”

  I laugh softly and stand. “I’ll get us some more drinks.”

  She nods. “Make them doubles.”

  I grin and walk up to the bar, squeezing between a few people and waving a hand. A young bartender walks over and takes my order, as I wait, I turn and face the crowd, glancing at the people dancing and drinking and playing pool. I missed all of this. I missed dancing drunk in bars when I was eighteen, or going on crazy road trips, or camping with my friends.

  Now that I’m out, I’m still not living the way I should be because of Tanner and his horrible little revenge pla
n.

  I’m more than ready to start living my life again.

  “Aren’t you the girl who killed that other girl?”

  I blink and turn at the sound of a male voice. There is a man standing next to me, he’s probably around Tanner’s age judging by his staunchy build, dark hair, and slightly aged face. He’s not in his twenties anyway, that’s for certain. His hazel eyes scan over me and he says, “Yeah, I’ve seen a picture of you somewhere.”

  “I’m sorry, do I know you?” I ask.

  “No, but I know who you are. You hit-and-run that poor girl years ago. What was her name again? Celia?”

  Oh. God.

  How does this man even know me?

  “I don’t know you,” I mutter. “Don’t pretend to know me. I also didn’t run anywhere. Get your facts straight.”

  Two other people have turned around to listen to the conversation, and my cheeks burn an angry red as I realize that I’m being centered and questioned like I’m in a damn court room. My ears start ringing and it feels like the room begins to echo around me, the noise drowning into a fuzzy mess.

  “I thought you would have been locked away for longer, considering you killed her. Imagine how that must have felt for her poor family.”

  My stomach clenches, and I shake my head. “Please leave me alone.”

  “Hey, Joe,” the man says, calling a friend over, his voice loud over the music. “This is that girl that killed that young teen on Jones road all those years ago.”

  “No kidding. I can’t believe she’s walking free. Should kick her out. Murderer.”

  My heart does a flip flop and my head starts to spin as people begin to look at me, their eyes judgmental, their expressions filled with hatred and rage. I want to run, to scream, to get away but I can’t. I’m stuck facing all their looks, the expressions of hate and disappointment, even a few of pity. They want to get their pitchforks out and make it known that they’ve found their monster, but I’ve done nothing to any of them.

  I’m not here to be attacked, I’m here to forget.

  For five seconds, I just want to forget.

  “You should be ashamed of yourself, coming in here like you belong,” the man growls at me when he turns back around. “You’re a killer. You should have rotted in that prison.”

  “I’m leaving,” I say, turning without the drinks and trying to push my way through the crowd. My knees tremble and my body shakes as I try to shove past people, who are less than willing to move for me. Some even try to trip me up as I got past.

  “Leave, killer!” he yells after me. “You don’t deserve to be alive!”

  My chest clenches and pain shoots through my body as shame takes over. People are staring at me, muttering under their breath. I reach Jo, who is already on her feet, halfway to me. She grabs my arm and pulls me to her side, saying, “Let’s get you out of here,” then she turns to the crowd and screams, “You should all be ashamed of yourselves!”

  We hurry out of the bar, with people shoving into me as I pass, muttering killer and bitch under their breaths. When we hit the sidewalk, I stop, leaning over and putting my hands on my knees, then I gasp, trying to catch my breath, pain radiating through my body. To my very core. It hurts, it hurts so damned bad. My throat burns as vomit threatens to come up.

  “It’s okay, honey. Breathe.”

  Through my panting, I whisper, “How did they know who I am?”

  “You know exactly how.”

  I look up at her, a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “Tanner,” I whisper.

  She nods.

  How could he? How could he do something like that to me? Did he set those people up to say those things? Did he pay them? Does he know them? Did he follow me? I look around, frantically, my eyes scanning all the people lining the streets and even the ones sitting in their cars. I can’t see him, but somehow I know Jo is right. They did this to me.

  They tormented me once again.

  I can’t deal with it anymore.

  I’m not going to live my life like this forever.

  I turn to Jo and, in a staggered breath, I whisper, “Let’s do this. Let’s take them down.”

  She smiles. “Finally.”

  Yeah, finally.

  9

  “I can turn around,” Jo says as we both stare out the car window at Ethan who is waiting on my sidewalk, his eyes on us. “You do not have to see him after the night you’ve had. Hell, he was probably behind it.”

  “I don’t think he was,” I tell her, and it’s the truth. It doesn’t mean I’m on his side, I just don’t think he’s part of it now. “And I can deal with Ethan.”

  She nods, and we get out of the car. We walk up toward the front of the apartment, and as she reaches Ethan, Jo says to him, “You should be ashamed of yourself, Ethan. You’re the worst kind of man there is. If you hurt her again, you’ll have me to deal with.”

  Then she walks past, shoving her shoulder into his as she does.

  I love my best friend. I love her more than life.

  She disappears inside, and I look to Ethan, saying, “I’m not in the mood for you tonight, Ethan. I’m really not.”

  His face twists, like my words pain him, and he says, “Let me talk to you. Five minutes, it’s all I’m asking.”

  I stare at him. “Do you know what happened to me tonight?”

  He studies me, really taking me in, and his face hardens. “What did they do?”

  “They sent people into the bar I was in to call me killer and other horrible names and torment me about Celia in front of everyone. That’s what they did. They’re not going to stop until I crumble. But you already know that, don’t you?”

  His fists clench with anger. “I had nothing to do with that, or anything they’ve done to you since you left that prison.”

  “You expect me to believe that?” I snap.

  “If you let me speak with you, I can explain it ...”

  “You mean explain how you used me to help out with their sick little plan. How you pretended to be my friend so they could torment me?”

  “I am your friend, Callie,” he argues.

  I lean in close to him. “Don’t you fucking ever use that word to me again. You don’t know the meaning of the word friend.”

  He looks like I’ve slapped him, but I don’t care.

  I don’t care because that’s how I feel every second of every day.

  “Give me five minutes, and then, if you never want to speak to me again, I’ll leave you alone.”

  I stare at him, rage coursing through my body like a god damned hurricane just building, waiting to explode and destroy everything in its path.

  “Five minutes,” I mutter. “Not a second longer.”

  He nods.

  I don’t move to sit or go inside. I stay standing right where I am and wait. I don’t know if I’m ready to hear what he’s going to say to me, but at the same time, part of me has been desperate to know this story from the moment I found out who they were. I want to know all of it, even if it hurts.

  “I grew up with Tanner, Andrea, and Celia,” Ethan tells me. “I lived just down the road, and Tanner was my best friend in school. Celia, she was like the little sister I never had. I had a hard upbringing, things weren’t always easy for me, but that family made me feel like I had a home, always. They kept me afloat during times when I had nothing, when I thought I was going to sink.”

  I swallow but say nothing, just hold his eyes. Emotionless.

  “When Celia died, it was hard. It was hard on everyone. Tanner was away serving, and the two of us hadn’t spoken for a few months because I didn’t go with him. Their parents were going through a really hard time. Then they lost Celia. In the most tragic way. When Tanner came home and found out what happened, he went into a rage. He wanted revenge. He wanted you to suffer. You took away the only thing in this world Tanner Yates has ever truly cared about.”

  “Why?” I ask, my voice husky. “Why did he care about her so much?”

 
; “Because he had to protect her. Because she looked up to him. Because without her, he wasn’t complete. They had an incredible bond, if someone picked on Celia, Tanner would bring them down in any way he could. If Celia was unhappy, Tanner would go to great lengths to make her happy. She brought this light into his life. She had this spirit that was so ... pure. The two of them were close, but only he could tell you more in-depth why that was.”

  I nod, crossing my arms, trying to keep a barrier up between us, even though my chest is aching and my stomach is doing flip flops.

  “When Celia died, he lost it. He just ... lost it. As I said, he wanted you to suffer. He wanted you to pay for taking her away. When we found out where you were getting locked up, he saw it as a chance for me to get in and create the ultimate revenge plan. I could be your guard. I could make sure you didn’t have it easy. When you got out, he would make sure you never lived a happy moment in your life again, so you knew what it would feel like for him, what it feels like for him every day.”

  I swallow what feels like a hard lump stuck in my throat. I close my eyes and take a deep shaky breath, emotions that I can’t quite process radiating through my body.

  “It was an accident,” I whisper.

  “I know,” Ethan tells me. “Within a few weeks of getting to know you, I could see that the person you had been painted as, was not correct. I believed your story. I saw the truth in your eyes. I knew that you weren’t bad, and that you weren’t at fault. I told them that I wasn’t going to keep helping them, and I pulled away. I swear to you, I stopped. I made sure you were protected. Tanner disowned me, and we stopped speaking.”

  I rub my hands down my face and murmur, “You could have told me, Ethan. All those times I told you things were happening to me, you could have told me. You chose to let them keep doing those things.”

  Ethan nods, his face solemn. “Yeah, I know. Because they’re my family, because I know how broken Tanner is, because I thought maybe I could change it. I didn’t want them to get into trouble for it. I didn’t want them to hurt you. It was messed up.”