Revenge
Keelie
“Turn left and it’s the third house on the right—the cobblestone.”
I go where Emma directs me, even though I’ve tried to drive slow and get her to talk in the process. I’ve rambled on about music, movies, her brother, and even her mom. All I’ve gotten is sighs, shrugs, head shakes, or grunts. Trying to get troubled teens to open up is one of the hardest parts of my job. It almost makes me grateful that Saylor can’t keep her mouth shut. At least I always know what she’s thinking and feeling. I should appreciate that as long as it lasts.
I pull into the driveway of a brand-new home with minimal landscaping and small trees. It blends into the neighborhood where all the houses look similar, and even though they’re much larger than middle class, there’s something about them that screams boring and cookie cutter. It does not fit Asa Hollingsworth, that’s for sure. Though, I’m not sure what does fit him.
Besides my pantry. That seems to fit him just fine.
As soon as I put my van in park, Emma moves to open her door, but I reach for her forearm to stop her. “Emma, wait.”
She freezes before looking over to me, and with all the manners it appears she can muster, says, “Oh, sorry. Thanks for the ride.”
I shake my head. “You’re welcome, but I wasn’t fishing for a thank you. Let’s drop the idle chit-chat, shall we?”
Her brow furrows. “What do you mean?”
“You’re fifteen, and despite the last few months, you’re a bright girl going through a hard time. I’ve worked with a lot of kids, and even though I’m just getting to know you, I can tell your family loves you. People are worried about you. You should let them help.”
She swallows hard. “There’s nothing to help with.”
“Emma,” I soften my voice. “Even if I didn’t know your grades are suffering or that you don’t socialize with friends the way you used to, it would be easy to see something is definitely wrong.”
“I tell my dad the same thing every day, Miz Lockhart—”
“Call me Keelie,” I correct her.
She sighs but ignores me. “When I tell my dad and Levi I’m fine, I mean it. My mom calls a million times a day just to ask the same thing. I’ve started not answering her calls because I’m so sick of it. I don’t know what else to tell everyone—I just want to be left alone. Why does everyone insist there’s something wrong with me all the time?”
“You can talk to me,” I offer. “Just because your dad and I are friends—”
She huffs and raises an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes. “Okay, then. Just because your dad and I are spending time together, I’m still your counselor. Making sure you're prepared for college entrance exams isn't my only job. I'm also here to make sure you have a healthy high school experience. You can talk to me.”
She shakes her head and lowers her voice. “I can’t.”
I reach out and take her hand, looking her straight in the eyes. “But you can, Emma. If you need help, I can help you.”
She bites her lip and hope blossoms inside of me, thinking there’s a minute chance she’ll hand over her worries. At this point I’d settle for one—taking that load off her soul that she’s been bearing for months and cutting her family off from every part of her that matters.
Her lips part, but just as she's about to speak, we hear it—a car driving too fast down Asa's quiet neighborhood street. We both look out the back of my van and I hear the screech of tires.
“What in the world?” I crane my neck to look out the side window of my old van when I hear it again, but this time the screeching of the tires happens right in front of Asa’s house. I feel my eyes go big.
“Oh, fuck,” I breathe and turn to Emma.
She’s staring out at the commotion when her expression falls, and the moment I grab her arm, it happens.
Gunfire.
Emma screams and I yank her down between the front seats and throw myself over her torso as it happens.
Shots, ringing all around us. Glass shatters. Bullets hit against my van with a sound of metal striking metal at full velocity.
My body tenses—pins and needles creep over my skin with fear and panic. The need to scream is overwhelming, but I can’t manage a sound.
Emma continues to cry out and shake beneath me. Grasping her, I do all I can to press us as low as possible to the van floor.
The bullets stop raining down against my van, but glass breaks in the distance with pings of bullets ricocheting off stone and splintering wood.
But only for a second before more shots come back to my van, this time hitting us low and I can’t believe I can feel it, but the tires pop and one last window is shattered.
I don’t know how long this lasts—it feels like an eternity.
Then … nothing.
An ache comes over me and the eerie silence engulfs us aside from Emma’s whimpers. I feel her shake below me but we don’t dare move a muscle.
Paralyzed, I expel a breath of air I must have been holding and feel myself start to tremble. I only move because Emma begins to pull away, too shocked to utter a word.
Glass falls away from us as we sit up, and when I look into Emma’s terrified eyes and tear-streaked face, she screams, “Oh, shit. You’re bleeding!”
*****
Asa
“Regardless of any issues Emerson may be experiencing, she’s behind. She’s flirting with a failing grade in geometry for the semester and will not be prepared for Algebra 2 next year. I recommend she take the class again.”
This woman is a bitch and I feel sorry for Emma having to put up with her every day. I’ll do everything I can to make sure she doesn’t have to repeat her class.
“She had an A first semester. Regardless of your thoughts on the subject, I’ll talk to Emma about the grade and make sure she’s caught up and ready for Algebra 2 next year. She’s got two months and the summer—I’ll make sure she’s ready.”
My phone vibrates again. It’s been going fucking crazy for the last ten minutes.
Emma’s science teacher throws the bitch a look as she breaks in. “Mr. Hollingsworth, Emma is a fifteen-year-old girl. I’m sure you and she will figure this out and she’ll get back on track—she’s bright. Until then, we need to be vigilant that she doesn’t fall further behind. Her study hall is during my planning period. I’ll start scheduling review sessions with her. We’ll make sure she gets caught up.”
I acknowledge her, but this time I can’t ignore it when my phone goes off again.
“Excuse me.” When I pick it up to flip through my notifications, there are countless phone calls and texts, first from Carson—my contact at the CIA—and then from Crew and Grady.
I stand and don’t look at Emma’s team of teachers when I mutter, “Excuse me. I’ll get back with all of you—I’ve got something I need to deal with.”
I hit Crew’s number first as I rush out of the school offices. It barely rings once when he picks up and demands, “Where are you?”
I’ve known him since he was a teenager and I was a rookie just starting on the PD in the District. Crew’s dad was my Sergeant. “I’m at my kids’ school. What the fuck’s going on?”
I hear the rustle of the phone with a shit-ton of voices in the background, and fuck me, sirens.
“Everyone’s okay.” You’d think these words would calm me, but I know Crew. His voice is low and tight, and even if he tells me everyone’s okay, everything is definitely not okay. “Grady and I are here with Em and your counselor-woman. Where’s Levi?”
“At practice,” I bite out as I jog to my truck. “Tell me what the fuck happened.”
“I don’t know who’s behind this, but pull Levi from practice just in case. Now. And man,” he pauses, this time his tone and his words don’t hide a thing, “Get the fuck home. Fast.”
*****
The fuck?
I speed down the street to my relatively new house in my usually boring neighborhood. There’s nothing dull about it today. Today, it looks like a scene out of a movie. Marked units line the street with two ambulances and a shitload of unmarked units. But this is no set—this is the house where my kids live and sleep. Windows are shot out all over the front, I see the evidence where bullets ricocheted off the stone and trim, and cops are swarming the place. But worst of all, Keelie’s plain, nondescript minivan is sitting in my driveway shot to shit.
To fucking shit.
I put on the brakes and screech to a halt in the street since my driveway is barricaded with crime scene tape and my fucking insides do something I’ve never felt before.
In all the shit storms I’ve been in over the years, I’ve never experienced this.
A strange fear mixed with anger, so strangling, I’m not sure I can tamp it down, even for the sake of my kids or the woman I want in my bed. My chest tightens and it takes concentrated effort to fucking breathe at the sight in front of me.
The van doors are standing wide open, the windows are shot out, and the tires are flat. Even if Crew hadn’t filled me in, it doesn’t take an investigator to know Emma and Keelie were in the car when it happened.
Levi pulls up behind me in his Jeep—I yanked him from practice because I have no idea what’s going on and I want my kids close. Crew didn’t have to say it, but we’re all thinking the same thing. After all these years, we’ve never experienced blowback from our work—but it could happen. We’ve done all we could to protect ourselves from it and still have a life.
“Shit, Dad. What the hell happened?” Levi catches up to me.
I look to my adult son and grasp his shoulder. “I don’t know, but I promise you, I’m gonna figure it out.”
I need details—right after I see for myself that Emma and Keelie are okay.
I scan the area and find Crew standing in my front yard with his arms crossed talking to a man in plain clothes with a badge and weapon sitting on his belt. I keep searching and, fucking finally, find Grady leaning against the side of an ambulance with my daughter in his arms.
She’s curled into his chest where Grady’s head is tilted down and he’s talking to her.
I move straight for them. “Grady!”
Both he and Emma look my way as I take in her red face. My insides rage as I make my way to them. Emma pulls away from Grady and when I get there, she throws herself in my arms, her face planting in my chest as she starts to sob.
I hold her tight but look at Grady. “How long have you been here?”
He crosses his arms. “We got here right before the police did. Carson called Crew when he couldn’t get through to you. Some of the men came with us, but Crew just sent the others for plywood. We’ll get this boarded up when the investigators are done. Jarvis stayed with Addy and Vivi.”
“Where’s Keelie?”
At the mention of her name, Emma starts to cry harder and Grady nods his head toward the ambulance and narrows his eyes.
My arms constrict around my daughter and I bite out, “Crew said everyone was okay.”
“She’ll be okay,” Grady assures me. “She’s tough as nails—only concerned about her kids coming home to an empty house. I sent Ozzie to get Maya. She can get them off the bus and stay with them or bring them to you, whatever Keelie wants. Go see her. I’ll stay here with Emma.”
When I pull Emma away from me, she shakes her head quickly, still crying. “I’m so sorry she got hurt, Dad. She pulled me down and laid over me. I don’t know how we weren’t killed—I didn’t think it was ever going to stop. It just kept coming and coming and the whole time she laid over me. Dad,” her face is etched in pain and terror, “she was bleeding.”
My eyes shoot to Grady and he gives me a quick nod. I lean into my daughter to kiss her forehead. “Stay with Grady. I’ll be back.”
I move away from her and notice Levi going in the house with Crew as I pop open the back door of the ambulance.
The first sight of Keelie does it.
The fear I had before I saw for myself they were okay vanishes. It’s gone. Even my anger melts as Keelie’s head turns, her blonde hair with hints of red flipping over her shoulder.
Besides getting my kids and Keelie away from here, I only feel the need for one thing.
Revenge.
She’s sitting sideways on the gurney—her blood-soaked shirt is hanging off one shoulder as the medic works on her other.
Her face is hard, but there’s something else hiding behind those blue eyes. It’s hard to see, but it’s there. Fear.
“I need to get home, Asa.” Her voice is sharp and steady. “My kids will get there any minute. I don’t want them to be scared when I’m not there.”
I climb up into the back of the rig and slam the door behind me. Sitting on the bench across from her, I start to unbutton my shirt. “My friend’s wife is at your house with one of our trainees. Trust me, they’ll be safe.” I look to the medic sitting next to Keelie and ask, “What happened?”
“She was grazed.” His eyes come to me as he keeps explaining. “She wouldn’t let me transport her and insisted I stitch her up here. Trust me, I tried.” He raises a brow. “But she did grill me about my qualifications first.”
I try to even my tone as I yank my shirt down my arms, leaving me bare chested. “Keelie, you need to be seen by a doctor.”
She shakes her head and looks away from me to her shoulder being stitched. “No. I need to get home and he said it wasn’t deep.” When her eyes come back to me, she adds, “He was a Marine and did this all the time in the field. He knows what he’s doing.”
I shake my head as I peel her blood-soaked silk shirt down her arm and toss it to the floor of the rig. Seeing her in a pale bra that’s almost the color of her skin with her tits swelling out the top while she’s getting stitches from an ex-Marine was not the way I planned on getting her shirt off of her for the first time.
“What are you doing?” she asks, not at all shy about sitting in front of two men while only wearing her bra.
I hold out my deep blue flannel for her. “Covering you up. You’re not gonna want to wear a bloody shirt home to see your kids.”
At the mention of her kids her eyes fall and her back slumps slightly. She holds out her good arm and I slip my shirt up as I swing a leg over the cot to straddle it. The shirt swallows her, especially when I cover her chest. “Lean into me.”
At first, she hesitates, but I hold her good shoulder to my chest, and she surrenders whatever steely emotion she was holding onto.
With my arm wrapped around her front, making sure she stays covered by my shirt, I look over her head at the medic. “You deaden that?”
He shakes his head. “She was in a hurry.”
I sigh. “Fuck, Keelie.”
She presses into me, her tone turning desperate. “I need to get home, Asa.”
I shake my head and instruct, “Hurry up—but do a good job. I don’t want her to scar.”
He nods and starts working again.
These stitches leaving a scar should be the least of my worries right now. But the thought of her owning a mark on her body because of me fuels my rage.
Emma, Levi, Keelie, and her kids. They’re all I can think about.
Besides revenge.
All of a sudden, I’m desperate for it.