Risky Vengeance

by Rhonda Brewer

  “Yeah, can’t bring women here.” Trunk laughed.

  “I’m afraid I won’t be doing that for a while.” Chris snorted.

  “You’ll get there,” Trunk told his brother.

  It was ironic that Trunk was encouraging his brother to move on when he couldn’t do it himself. There was no doubt in his mind Chris would find someone else. His brother was a great guy.

  An hour later, Trunk stopped at the third supermarket. His mother had a system for grocery shopping, and although it made sense to her, it annoyed Trunk. She’d go through every flyer she could find and make a list of what places she had to go for each list.

  “Wait here. I have to pick up one thing here,” she said as she hopped out of the car.

  She might say one thing, but she tended to linger in grocery stores. Trunk was tired of waiting in the truck and decided he’d walk through the supermarket to stretch his legs.

  Trunk rolled his eyes as his mother tossed another item in the basket that wasn’t on her list. She strolled up and down each aisle, scanning the shelves for sales. The funny thing was, Trunk would end up with a bag of the groceries she picked up. She would never allow him to go home without something she’d bought that day.

  “Ben, hand me two cans of those tomatoes up there.” She pointed to a large can on the top shelf.

  Trunk reached up but stopped when he heard his mother gasp. When he turned to see what was wrong, she’d gone ghostly white. Trunk immediately had his arm around her, but before he could ask her anything, another voice made his blood run cold.

  “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.” The man smirked.

  Trunk hadn’t seen him since that terrible night, but he’d know Jerry’s face anywhere. It didn’t matter that he was sixty years old now and holding a cane, Jerry still had the glare that used to make Trunk tremble. Trunk instinctively pulled his mother closer to him.

  “Jer… Jerry,” his mother stammered.

  “You’re looking good, Fatima.” Jerry smiled, but it seemed more sinister than friendly.

  “What are you doing here?” Trunk’s mother straightened her shoulders.

  “I live around here. Isn’t this guy awfully young for you?” Jerry glared at Trunk.

  “Back off,” Trunk snapped.

  “Ben, don’t.” His mother laid her hand on his arm.

  “Ben? Not whiney little Benji?” Jerry laughed.

  “Why don’t you keep walking?” Trunk guided his mother around the cart.

  “Not even a hug for your old man?” Jerry blocked their escape.

  Trunk stepped in front of his mom and glared down at the man who terrorized him as a kid. Jerry didn’t seem so intimidating when Trunk towered over him, but it took every bit of restraint not to give Jerry a taste of what he deserved.

  “I suggest you be on your way. I’m not the kid you used as a punching bag.” Trunk hardly recognized his own voice, and he didn’t like the way it sounded.

  “Fatima, are you going to let him talk to his father like that?” Jerry asked Trunk’s mother.

  “Father? You don’t deserve that title. As I said, I suggest you be on your way, Jerry,” Trunk snapped.

  “Still as disrespectful as ever. I guess the discipline stopped when I moved away.” Jerry narrowed his eyes.

  “Moved away?” Trunk scoffed. “You went to prison for killing a young girl and almost killing two others. Not to mention leaving your wife on the bathroom floor barely alive.”

  “Why was I out driving that day? Who was I looking for?” Jerry sneered.

  “I’m not going to waste our time with the likes of you. Let’s go, Mom.” Trunk grabbed the end of the cart and guided his mother around Jerry.

  She didn’t say a word as they made their way to the cashier, and the silence was deafening on the drive back to her apartment. He’d placed the last bag on her couch when she spoke.

  “It wasn’t your fault, Ben,” she whispered.

  Trunk turned to see tears running down her cheeks. It broke his heart, and he pulled her into his arms. As his eyes closed, the memory of the day that haunted him came flooding back. Trunk always felt guilty for what happened.

  Twenty-six years ago…

  Benji and Christopher played catch in the backyard. At eleven, Benji was a year older than his brother. Christopher was trying out for a local little league team and asked Benji to help him practice.

  Thankfully, they could relax for the day because their stepfather was supposed to work late. As a taxi driver, Jerry picked his own hours, and Friday, he usually worked late to make extra money, not that Benji’s mother saw any of it. It was always Benji’s favorite day of the week.

  Benji didn’t care as long as the man wasn’t home. If Jerry was, it meant drinking, and one or all of them would become targets for his fists. Benji hated his stepfather and tried to prevent him from hurting his mother.

  The last time Benji stood up to the man, he and Christopher had to hide in the attic. An old travel trunk became his safety from Jerry’s thick belt. When Jerry stumbled out of the attic, Benji and Christopher discovered they were locked up in the dusty room. They were there a long time before his mother found them. She’d been frantic because Jerry told her they had run off and hadn’t come home. She realized that he’d locked them in the attic and came to find them after Jerry passed out.

  Benji knew Jerry wasn’t his real dad, but Christopher didn’t, and since their birth father was never around, Jerry became Dad. As much as Benji hated the man, he didn’t want Christopher to know their father had run off.

  “Do you think I’ll make it on the team?” Christopher asked as he tossed the ball for the hundredth time.

  “It’s little league. Everyone makes it.” Benji laughed as he tossed the ball back to his brother.

  Christopher caught it and threw it back, but he tripped over a rock, and the ball flew over Benji’s head. The sound of glass breaking caused him to turn around, and his eyes widened in horror. They could hear Jerry’s voice through the broken window. Jerry must not have left for work, and that meant Christopher was in huge trouble. Benji ran up next to Christopher.

  “I threw the ball, Christopher,” Benji whispered and helped his brother to his feet.

  “But…” Christopher tried to argue, but Benji stopped him.

  “No, I can deal with the belt. Just tell him I threw the ball.” Benji glanced toward the back door when it opened.

  “Which one of you little bastards broke that?” Jerry stumbled down the steps.

  He was drunk, which meant he’d be in no hurry to leave. He sneered as he walked toward Benji and Christopher. Without thinking, Benji pushed his brother behind him and faced the man he hated.

  “I did,” Benji shouted.

  “You’re paying for that.” Jerry pulled off his belt as he staggered toward Benji.

  “Get inside,” Benji told his brother.

  “No.” Christopher’s voice trembled.

  “Get the fuck inside,” Jerry shouted at Christopher.

  Benji watched his brother run into the house and then turned to face Jerry. He knew the beating would hurt, but there was no way he’d let Christopher get beaten for an accident, but if Jerry wanted to hit him again, he would have to catch him.

  “Turn around,” Jerry snapped.

  “No,” Benji replied defiantly.

  Jerry’s face turned red, and he narrowed his eyes. He took two more steps toward Benji and reached for him. Benji turned and ran toward the broken fence at the back of the yard. He didn’t know if he could get through the broken panel before Jerry reached him, but he would try.

  “Get back here, you little fucker,” Jerry shouted as Benji ran through the field behind the yard and out to the main road.

  Benji glanced up and down as he tried to figure out where he could go. They had no other family, but he’d met a police officer at the store a few weeks earlier, and the man told Benji if he ever needed to talk, he could call him. The officer was related to the owne
r of the shop, so he knew he’d be able to contact him.

  Benji was out of breath by the time he made it to the shop two blocks from his house. He’d heard Jerry’s car rumble as he’d ran up the street doing his best to stay out of view. It wasn’t hard to hear the car because it didn’t have a muffler. When he heard it turn the corner, Benji crouched behind a truck.

  The car took another turn onto a side street, and Benji made a run for the entrance to the convenience store. His hand was on the handle when he heard screeching tires and screaming.

  Benji ran up to the corner and as he peeked around the house, he saw Jerry stagger away from the vehicle. The car had run into a house, and it looked like someone was laying on the hood. Benji gasped when he realized Jerry hit someone with his car.

  “That bastard is drunk, grab him,” a man shouted.

  Benji backed away from the corner as two men grabbed his stepdad and knocked him to the ground. Benji swallowed hard as he sprinted back to his house. When Jerry got home, Benji knew he’d be in for the beating of his life.

  Present day…

  Trunk shook his head to clear the memory. His mother sobbed in his arms, and he needed to be strong for her the same way he’d been back then. The same way she’d been when she packed them up and started over in Corner Brook.

  “I didn’t think seeing him again would make me feel like this.” She pulled back and wiped her hands across her cheeks.

  “Mom, he’s a piece of shit who doesn’t deserve your tears.” Trunk held her shoulders.

  “He’s your father, Ben,” she chastised.

  “No, he’s not, Mom. He may have married you, and we had his name for a time, but I never considered him my father,” Trunk admitted.

  “He had a rough child…” she began, but Trunk stopped her.

  “Mom, I love you, but you’ve got to stop making excuses for his violence. He beat you. Daily. He beat Chris and me if we so much as breathed the wrong way. The best thing that ever happened to us was the day they tossed that piece of trash in jail,” Trunk said.

  “It wasn’t the best thing for that little girl he killed.” She sighed.

  Trunk didn’t say another word. He pulled his mother in for another hug and swallowed the lump in his throat. She was right because it wasn’t fair that Abbie should lose her sister. All because Trunk ran off to avoid a beating.

  “How about we forget about all this, and I take you to Jack’s Place for supper?” Trunk kissed the top of his mother’s head.

  Jack’s Place was not just a pub. It was a combo diner as well. Keith’s uncle Kurt and his wife, Alice, owned the establishment. It was a family place with great food and an incredible view.

  “That sounds wonderful,” his mother said softly.

  Trunk helped her put away the items she bought, and then they made their way to Hopedale. His mother decided to spend the night at his house since she was still shaky from coming face-to-face with Jerry. Trunk was glad because he didn’t want her to be alone after that encounter.

  Trunk began to regret taking his mother to the tiny town where he’d chosen to live. Every time she entered his house, she would comment on what a lovely place he had, and all it needed was a woman’s touch. She was less than subtle about how old he was getting and how he needed to find someone to make him happy.

  “You aren’t getting any younger, Ben,” she reminded him.

  “I know, Mom.” Trunk sighed.

  “You need to find a nice girl and settle down,” she insisted.

  Trunk didn’t believe it was in his future, and he’d made peace with the fact he’d be a bachelor for the rest of his life. Of course, he’d had a couple of one-night stands since Abbie, but the women knew where they stood, and he wasn’t looking for anything serious.

  It was hard for him to imagine being with anyone forever. He’d seen it with Abbie, but when he found out the truth, that dream disappeared. He tried everything to get over his feelings for her and even begged Keith at one point to send him to another province so he wouldn’t have to see her with Chad.

  He’d never find anyone who ever meant as much to him as Abbie did, and that was his cross to bear. He loved her enough to let her find happiness with someone who could make her happy.

  Chapter 6

  Abbie sat across the table from Chad as he continued to brag about the large commission he’d gotten for the sale of a mansion. A commission that should have been hers because she was the licensed real estate agent.

  It pissed her off that Chad didn’t tell her one of his friends wanted to sell. One of his wealthy friends whose house was worth more money than she’d make in ten years. The commission would have kept her agency in the black for months, but here he was excited over his windfall. He’d even completed the sale from her laptop while he was at her house for supper.

  She shouldn’t begrudge him the luck, but if he cared about her, wouldn’t he have given her the sale? He was getting a rather large paycheck from Donovan’s Commercial Development Corporation. He always reminded her of how much money he made.

  “So, he told me his friend was putting a house on the market too. It’s a huge place, and the commission will be more than this one,” Chad went on.

  “Chad, can we talk about something else?” Abbie sighed.

  “I’m sorry. I thought you’d be happy for me,” Chad said as the waiter poured them another glass of water.

  “I am, but I’d rather not talk about work.” Abbie pushed the food around on her plate.

  “Don’t worry, darling. When we get married, you won’t need to be concerned with your little agency,” Chad said with a raised eyebrow.

  “I’m sorry. What?” Abbie almost choked.

  “You don’t think you’ll have to work after we’re married, do you?” He seemed sickened by the idea.

  “First of all, we aren’t even engaged, and second of all, it doesn’t matter if I’m married. I’m not closing my agency.” Abbie tried to remain calm.

  “Why would you work? I’ll have enough money to support you.” Chad glanced over her shoulder and waved to the waiter.

  Abbie took several deep breaths before she responded. The truth was she wanted to tell him to go fuck himself, or punch him in the nose. Since she couldn’t do that in the middle of a fancy restaurant, she opted to calm herself before she spoke.

  “Chad, I’m an independent woman, and I’m not going to sit home like a good little wife. It’s not the way I was raised, and it’s not what I want.” Abbie folded her hands on the table.

  “Isn’t what I want important?” Chad covered her hands with his.

  It wasn’t the first time since she’d started dating him that Abbie got an uneasy feeling from him. The truth was she was staying with him because she didn’t want to be alone. Abbie also enjoyed the way Trunk reacted when he saw her with Chad. It was childish, but she wanted him to feel the pain she felt.

  “No,” Abbie replied.

  “I won’t have a wife of mine working,” Chad returned.

  He narrowed his eyes, and his lip curled up. His attempt at intimidation made him look more like he was constipated. Abbie couldn’t hold it in any longer, and she burst into hysterical laughter.

  “You’re out of your fucking mind,” Abbie scoffed as she pulled her hands from his.

  “Please watch your language. It’s not ladylike, and we’re in public. There could be future clients here,” Chad snapped.

  “After more than a year together, you don’t get me, do you?” Abbie shook her head as she stood up and pulled on her coat.

  “Where are you going?” Chad demanded.

  “Home. Goodbye, Chad.” Abbie hoisted her purse onto her shoulder.

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with you tonight. It must be a PMS thing, but you should go home and sleep off your mood. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.” Chad went back to his meal.

  She would have laughed again, but it was hard when her blood felt as if it were boiling. She would never cause a scene in a
place with so many people, and Chad was right about one thing, there could be future clients in the restaurant. Abbie knew a potential business contact could be anywhere. The last thing she needed was to cause an uproar around people who would recognize her from her ads.

  Abbie used every ounce of restraint she had to not tip Chad over in his chair. She pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of her purse and leaned over the table until she was eye level with Chad.

  “This is for my supper. I’m going to say this to you as calmly as I can, because right now, I’m about a hair away from breaking your nose. Don’t call me. Don’t come to my house. Don’t email me. Don’t text me. We. Are. Done. Why don’t you go to the nineteen fifties and try to find a little woman for yourself? I’m certainly not her.” Abbie tossed the hundred on top of his steak and turned away.

  “It’s not over yet,” he called after her.

  Abbie walked out with her head held high and felt like the weight of the world was off her shoulders. She’d spent far too many months trying to convince herself she and Chad would be happy together. She couldn’t shed a tear over the end of the relationship because the truth was, she knew it wasn’t going anywhere.

  She pulled her keys and phone out of her purse on the way to her car. Abbie needed to talk to someone, and Billie was usually the ear she would bend at a time like this. She’d end up spending the night at Billie’s place and drink way too much wine while she celebrated the end of her and Chad. The last thing she wanted was to go home alone. Abbie hated being by herself since the night Trunk walked out and left her.

  She would never admit it, but that night meant more to her than she could ever say. It wasn’t just the sex. It was the connection they made, laughing and sharing stories. He was the first man she ever told about the day Laurie died. She’d slept better that night than she had before or since.

  “I was just a fuck to him, and I’ve got to keep reminding myself of that,” Abbie muttered as she unlocked her car.

  When she pulled open the door, an arm slipped around her neck. At first, she thought it might be Trunk, and her heart started to pound in her chest. That was until she got the scent of beer and body odor.