Game of Revenge

Chapter 6

Tray

“We should call it a night,” I mumble, worried as I glance up at the bar in front of me. Somehow, our feet found our way back here as we’ve been drinking.

“No,” Carrie says boldly, opening the door. “They won’t fucking touch you while I’m here!”

Kier, Carrie, Francis, and I have been aimlessly walking through the town talking about anything and everything.

Mike passed out in his childhood bed, and Carrie’s guys have trailed behind us, to make sure nothing happens to us as we’ve bonded in melancholy.

“This is going to go well,” I murmur, giving her a telling glance.

I adore Carrie, but there’s a burning anger building in her. When she gets like this, people die. She’s mellowed out a lot recently, but there’s still a darkness that lives inside of her.

Grabbing the door, I motion for her to head inside. Meyers elbows me out of the way to follow her in, which makes my lips twitch despite myself.

This pregnancy has made her men incredibly protective. I don’t blame them since we’re in a town where one of our own was curb stomped to death.

I almost didn’t recognize him when I saw him in the backlot. My heart hearts as I think about Brian, my feet almost dragging as I walk through the bar.

I hate this town, the bar, and everything about this place. I can’t wait to see it in my rearview mirror as soon as possible.

Kiernan walks to the bar to get drinks while we find a table, huddling together to talk.

“This place gives me really bad vibes,” Chuck mutters, twisting in his seat to look around. “They’re all giving Kier really nasty glances. I’m going to help him with the drinks.”

“Why are we here again, baby?” Meyers mumbles to Carrie. It had been her suggestion when we realized we were going to walk by the bar.

Francis snorts, waiting for her best friend to go off. Carrie despises bigotry, and this town is steeped in it.

“I want people to know that relationships other than what they consider normal exist,” she snarls, rubbing her expansive stomach.

“They’re small minded and evil. I hate that this shit always seems to happen in these backwater places. We are going to sit here and make them see us. I still think there’s plenty of time to plan a fright night scenario, boys.”

“Carrie,” Meyers groans. “You’re beautiful, and so damn stabby, but you’re too pregnant to go running around in the dark killing people.”

“Are you saying that I’m starting to waddle?” Carrie sniffles.

Meyers and Bates look at each other paleing. She tends to be very emotional when she’s pregnant, and they just said ‘no’ one too many times to her tonight.

Shit.

“You’re not waddling,” I tell her leaning forward. I’m feeling the drinks of the night, but I can still pull the air out from her very angry sails. “The guys know you’re beautiful and capable as hell. They just worry about you, and want to keep you safe. Do you blame them?”

Meyers and Bates take a deep breath as they wait, because it could still go either way. Francis smirks, not bothering to pull their asses out of the fire. Her motto is if they roast their assholes, they deserve the burn.

“I guess not,” she mumbles. “I love them too, but they won’t let me do anything fun anymore.”

“That’s not true,” Meyers grunts. “Do you want to shoot paintballs at the neighborhood kids, who keep walking in our yard and won’t pick up their trash? I’m absolutely down for you teaching them an attitude adjustment, baby.”

“Really?” she squeals, making me shake my head as I watch Kiernan bring back drinks. Chuck appears to have disappeared, and I furrow my brows.

I’m getting deja vu and it’s not a good feeling.

“Where’s Chuck?” I ask, my voice cracking with strain. “I thought he was going to help you?”

“He was, but he got pulled into a conversation. He’s alright, I have a feeling he’s being covert because not everyone watched him walk in with us,” Kier says softly.

“Chuck probably wants to see if anyone will be dumb enough to say something in front of him,” Carrie says, mimicking Kier’s softness. “Drink up boys, I have a feeling we won’t be here long.”

“To Brian,” I murmur, raising my beer up to the middle of the table. The guys and Francis follow my lead, dropping their heads in remembrance.

“I hate this place,” Francis mumbles. “He deserved so much better than this.”

Studiously ignoring the glances, we sit and drink, though my heart starts to pound when I begin to hear the sneers.

“There are those ass fuckers and their little sluts!” someone yells.

My face can’t hide my disgust, and my beer suddenly tastes foul.

“How else do you think they got this baby inside me?” Carrie yells, uncaring of who said it. “Didn’t you hear you can get a girl pregnant through anal? Damn knuckle dragging Neanderthal.”

Meyers’ lips twitch, his head nodding at his girl. “I would not be surprised if that’s how he thought babies were made,” he mutters.

“This place needs a good old fashioned fire bombing,” Francis complains. “Just a little one. Please?”

Our amusement is short lived as Chuck walks over to us. It looks as if he’s calm and collected, but his eyes are wide and worried.

“Finish up. Now,” he growls. “We have to get the hell out of here. It’s not safe.”

Leaving our drinks, we slide out of our seats as if that was the plan all along. If we rush, we’re inviting someone to come for us. We can’t allow that to happen with Carrie in our group. I know she’s a badass, but her pregnancy makes us all more protective.

Our steps are measured and not rushed as we walk out, pretending as if everything is normal.

“What’s wrong, Chuck?” Carrie hisses, worried. He’s not prone to hysteria, especially since he works often on the suicide hotlines. He’s a deep well of calm typically.

“Keep walking,” he mutters. “I noticed the people at the bar didn’t realize I was a part of our group, so I did a little snooping around.”

“Don’t keep us in suspense now,” Francis says. “Out with it!”

“A few of the guys there were bragging about killing Brian,” Chuck explains. “Sure, they could have been talking shit, but they talked about using their favorite bats and having to clean off the gray matter.”

“Fuck,” Francis breathes, looking over her shoulder. “We’re leaving this godforsaken town tomorrow. I refuse to stay another night here. I would say let’s go now, but don’t want to scare the kids.”

“I want their blood on my hands,” Carrie growls.

“Babe,” Meyers groans. “We just talked about this!”

“You can talk all you want. It’s a free country,” she rasps.

Something tells me this isn’t going to be the last time this comes up.

Kiernan

Yawning, I groan as I rub my eyes. I drank too much last night and now my head hurts. I’m in bed next to Tray, his arm wrapped around my waist as he snores softly.

A knock at the door causes him to stir, and I sigh. I guess we’re getting up.

“Yeah,” I call out, swallowing back another yawn.

Meyers opens the door, chewing his lip, and I push Tray away so I can sit up.

“What’s wrong?” I ask urgently. He wouldn’t be pushing his way into our room for anything less than an emergency. “Is it the baby? Do we need to go?”

“Carrie is gone,” Meyers says. “I’ve called her several times, she won’t pick up.

My heart starts to pound, but I have a feeling I know where she is.”

“Portland,” I whisper. “Do you think she went up to the old cabin? She was pretty hot and angry. We all are, but Carrie is built differently.”

“No,” Meyers grunts before slumping against the wall. “Fuck, maybe.”

Grabbing my phone, I call her, having a feeling that she’ll answer for me.

“Hi! Want to come see the surprise?” Carrie says, sounding different.

Shit. Are we really here again? Is Blakely making an appearance?

“Hey, best friend,” I drawl. “I would love to come see the surprise. Are we bringing the kids, or is this an adults only kind of adventure?”

Meyers eyes widen at my words, and I shrug apologetically. We’ve all been under a lot of sadness and strain, and everyone deals with it differently.

“Adults only,” Carrie decides. “Ms. Kay can take them home and keep life normal while we take out the garbage. I think we need a hunt. It’s been too long.”

“Alright Blakely,” I tell her, waiting to see if I’m wrong. I really would rather be wrong, but I'm this girl’s ride or die, no matter which side of her she’s showing the world.

“You remember me,” she croons, and I shake my head at Meyers.

“Of course I remember, doll,” I murmur. “We’ll get everyone situated and come up to see you at the cabin.”

I don’t actually know if she’s there yet, but I’m baiting her for information. Otherwise, she’ll lead me through a barrage of windy topics that go in circles. Blakely likes her riddles and secrets.

“ It’s all set up,” she promises, my head dropping back in defeat. Fuck me. “I have it perfect now, but I’m really hungry and need to go sit and eat some ice cream now. See you soon!”

The line is dead as I drop the phone to my lap, sighing.

“Well, Blakely is fine,” I drawl, watching as Meyers closes his eyes with a groan. “She asked that you send the kids back with Ms. Kay to Portland, while we go up to the cabin. She says that it’s all set up and ready.”

“Damn,” Meyers sighs. “Is she being careful?”

“She’s rewarding herself for all of her efforts with some ice cream,” I tell him. “Let’s get the fuck out of this town before she decides to sacrifice a virgin or some shit.”

“Is the virgin evil?” Meyers asks with a wicked smile.

“I’m sure we can find one who is,” I say.

Why am I the voice of reason today?

It almost feels normal to return to the cabin, and we’re now sitting on the couch, eating pizza as we discuss our next steps.

“I want to find a way to bring our sheep to us,” Blakely says. “We need a game of sorts.”

“What about a scavenger hunt that leads them where we want them to go with a cash prize if they’re the last ones standing?” I ask. “I’ll design the website and email the invites out.”

“The money has to be enough for them to come up here,” Frankie adds. “If you make it sound exclusive and exciting, it won’t be difficult to get them to flock here. There are few people who will be on your list that desperately need more.”

“I can think of a few who don’t,” Tray mumbles as he slowly eats. His appetite has been flagging from the stress. I’m worried about him.

“What will we do then?” Michael asks, looking sullen. I don’t know what his deal is. Could he finally be processing Brian’s death?

“Then we bring those people kicking and screaming,” Francis says with a low chuckle. “There’s nothing I love more than duct tape and rope in the morning. Kidnappings get me going.”

“You need to find an outlet for that pent up energy,” Blakely teases her.

Tray gazes at Francis for a moment longer than usual, and I wonder what that's about. Secrets are apparently a running theme at the cabin.

Awesome.