Pure Vengeance

Chapter 11

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Natasha

“So, where do you think we should go, Dante?”

My dog didn’t answer. Instead, he resettled himself in his jumbo-sized memory-foam dog bed and let out a loud snore as he tucked his stuffed bear under one paw. I smiled and reached down to scratch his ears.

I might have been training my body to kill, but he wouldn’t be asked to do it again.

With the funds from the numbered Swiss bank accounts I’d found in my father’s safe, I could go anywhere. I could finally attend college, travel, or even just buy a house somewhere far away from the almost ex-husband I refused to name and be a hermit for the rest of my life.

Some days I could forget what he’d done to me. Mostly not, although every day he didn’t show up to take me back to the kennel made it easier to think I’d be okay. At least I’d finally gotten up the nerve to take out my piercing jewelry and send it to him with a pile of Dante’s shit.

And some days, I could even get myself off without thinking of all the depraved things that used to make my pussy clench with the visceral need only he could assuage.

I had a service dog vest for Dante, so he didn’t have to travel in a crate. Granted, he wasn’t exactly a service dog, but he was extremely well-trained. Besides, my anxiety spiked whenever I couldn’t see him, so I supposed that made him an emotional support animal with better manners.

After sitting on the comfortable microfiber couch, I spread printed travel brochures across the elegant French provincial coffee table. Although I told myself the furniture was only for staging the house for sale, I loved the new décor. Now that every trace of my father was gone, I almost wished I could stay.

Unfortunately, his poison permeated the walls and spread into the soft furnishings. If I looked at it sideways, even the neatly manicured lawn appeared to bubble with tarry black, and the landscaping seemed to wilt more with every passing day.

The house needed to go to a new family who could replace his evil with happiness.

“Maybe we should take this transatlantic cruise to Greece,” I mused out loud. “I’m thinking do the whole Mama Mia thing. It would totally count since I’m your mom, and I’ll be single when your former dad gets off his ass and signs the papers. All we’d need is a run-down inn.”

When Dante didn’t answer, I added, “Or how about Iceland? I’ve always wanted to go there.”

The doorbell rang and I glanced at the time on my phone before rising to my feet. “Misaki is way early. We’ll have to decide on our destination after lunch.”

Before opening the door, I checked the video from the security feed and froze, my belly clenching with a mix of fear and anger.

Mostly anger.

I slid my new shotgun from the umbrella stand, then unlocked the multiple deadbolts securing the door and slowly opened it.

“Jerome.”

Dressed in his usual faded jeans and plaid flannel shirt, the kennel trainer kept his eyes fixed on the shotgun.

“Hey, Natasha.” Swallowing hard, he took a step back. “I… um?—”

“Since when do you use my name?” I interrupted. “Did Lachlan send you?”

“No!” He shook his head vehemently. “I didn’t come because of him.”

I caressed the trigger guard with my thumb. “Then what do you want?”

“I’m going to put my hand in my shirt pocket.” When I nodded, he pulled a gray tabby kitten from his pocket and held it out to me. “It won’t make up for what we’ve done, but I hope you like her.”

“You’re giving me a cat?” I blinked at the tiny mound of fluff curled up asleep on his large palm. “Why?”

“We took your kindness and destroyed it, Natasha,” he said quietly. “I’m hoping the kitten will help you get it back. Cats are good at doing that sometimes.”

Stunned, I took the baby from Jerome and decided to cancel my Krav Maga training with Misaki, so I could figure out how to take care of her. “Wow. Okay. Thanks, I guess.”

“You’re welcome.” Jerome hesitated, then asked, “How’s Dante?”

“He’s good.” I heard the click of Dante’s nails on the hardwood and pushed the door with my shoulder to let him out.

Strangely, Dante stumbled, his front legs almost buckling when he tried to reach Jerome. His head listed to the side, and he panted heavily as his pupils narrowed to pinpricks.

“Dante?” Trying to control my panic, I slammed the shotgun into the umbrella stand and set the kitten on the floor next to it before dropping to my knees. “C’mon, buddy. Tell me what’s wrong.”

Jerome nudged me out of the way, then crouched to examine my dog. “Go on and bring my truck close. We need to get him to the vet.”

“What’s wrong with him?” I asked, swallowing the tears thickening my voice.

“Move it, Natasha. Now.”

The barked order got my feet moving before I realized it. Although I hated my body for its automatic obedience, I couldn’t deal with it now. My baby was in trouble.

Thankfully, the keys were in the ignition. Blinking rapidly to stop my burgeoning tears, I moved the truck as close to the stairs as I could get. I got out to help, but Jerome simply grunted and lifted Dante into his arms before laying him carefully on the bench seat.

After covering him with a blanket, he got behind the wheel and rattled off an address. “Follow me and bring the kitten.”

Without waiting for an answer, he drove to the end of the driveway and waited for me.

I darted inside for the cat and slammed the door behind me before racing to the garage. Every mile sent a fresh shard of terror into my heart, and I was sobbing long before I pulled into the lot and parked. Jerome’s truck was empty, meaning he and Dante were already inside.

The SUV’s engine ticked as I sat frozen. I needed to get to Dante, but I couldn’t see…

Couldn’t make my feet or my brain move to the logical conclusion. Could barely breathe through my sobs.

From the passenger seat, the kitten made a tiny peep, forcing me from my mental stalemate. I swept her up and forced myself to walk into the clinic.

Jerome rose from a chair next to an elderly woman who had a poodle on her lap. After wrapping a thick arm around my waist, he led me to sit next to him, then handed me a threadbare bandana.

“Doc’s got Dante. They think he had a stroke.” He took the kitten and tucked her into his pocket.

“He’s not…” I coughed to ease the thick wad of tears from my throat. “Will he be okay?”

Jerome sighed but didn’t immediately reply. Finally, he said, “Dante is almost eleven.”

“That’s young, right? He’s going to be okay.”

I said the words with every bit of conviction I could muster, but they sounded false.

He turned to face me and shook his head sadly. “Natasha, he’s old. Large-breed dogs rarely live more than ten years or so. Might be best to?—”

“No! That is not fucking happening!”

My scream startled the elderly woman. Her eyes wide, she clutched her dog to her chest and hurried from the clinic.

Dante’s illness wasn’t Jerome’s fault, but I had no other outlet for my rage. Fixing my helpless fury on Jerome, I wrapped my hands around his thick neck and squeezed. “This is your fault. Your fucking fault!”

Lachlan

Although I shouldn’t have come, I parked next to Jerome’s truck and got out.

I was the last person Natasha would want to see—especially when she was grieving her beloved dog—but I couldn’t stop myself.

Natasha had already been through too much, and I couldn’t stand the idea of letting her lose Dante without at least trying to help her. Jerome’s call just gave me an excuse to see her, but he hadn’t mentioned why he’d been at Natasha’s house in the first place.

Thankfully, Saoirse hadn’t been around to talk me out of it.

Maybe the vet could bring him back, but I doubted it. Dante was old, and although he had no health issues aside from a touch of arthritis, he’d been living on borrowed time for over a year.

Before I could enter the clinic, a police cruiser pulled in and stopped in the middle of the lot. Two officers exited the vehicle and strode to the entrance, then opened the door, allowing a feminine scream of rage to escape.

As I hurried to the entrance, the officers carried Natasha, who was kicking and shouting a virulent stream of curses, to the cruiser. She was dressed in a pair of tight spandex shorts and a sports bra, and her feet were bare.

One of the officers held her bent over the hood while the other slapped cuffs on her wrists as he read her Miranda rights. Ignoring her angry screeches, they locked her in the back of the cruiser.

Jerome walked from the clinic. Rubbing his throat, he veered off to intercept me.

“The staff called the cops,” he murmured, his voice hoarse and scratchy. “She tried to strangle me when I told her Dante probably won’t make it.”

“Not your wisest moment,” I replied. “I’ll take care of it.”

“I’ll just stay out of range.” Despite his words, he followed me at a distance. “At least she left her shotgun at home.”

“Officers,” I called as I strode to the cruiser. “I’m very sorry for the inconvenience. My wife’s dog is dangerously ill, and she’s understandably upset.”

From the back of the cruiser, Natasha narrowed her eyes at me, then turned away, making her feelings clear. I was guessing she’d rather go to jail than talk to me, but I could give her something she’d be a fool to refuse.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure if her common sense would outweigh her sheer, bloody-minded obduracy. She’d cut off her whole damned head to spite her face and throw it at me like she was a major league pitcher.

“Mr. O’Donnell, sir,” the taller of the two said, obviously recognizing me, “people generally don’t commit aggravated assault while their pets are at a vet’s office.”

“We just lost our old mutt,” the second officer replied. “It’s never easy.”

“It isn’t,” I agreed. “So, what do you say we forget this happened? I’ll take care of Natasha while we deal with our loss.”

“I’m very sorry, sir,” the taller one said. “Unless the victim decides not to press charges, we have to take her in.”

“I raised Dante from a puppy. I can’t be upset with Mrs. O’Donnell because I feel the same. He was—” Clearing his throat, Jerome corrected himself. “Dante is a fine dog.”

“I’ll make sure Natasha stays calm and give her as much support as she needs. Do we have an agreement?” I asked.

The officers shared a look, and the taller one nodded reluctantly. “I guess we can do that,” he said. “We don’t want any trouble with the O’Donnell family, but I doubt the staff will let her in again.”

“Thank you. I appreciate your service and your understanding during this difficult time.”

I waited—not very patiently—while they helped Natasha from the back of the cruiser and removed the cuffs from her wrists. Hate filled her brown eyes, and she tightened her hands into fists, making veins pop in her arms.

Before she could escape, I pulled her into a tight hug and positioned my lips next to her ear while her scent of vanilla and citrus filled my lungs, making it hard to breathe.

She stiffened, her muscular shoulders bunching under my touch, but didn’t try to get away. I hated that she felt like she had to prepare her body for battle.

Fuck, I missed her so hard it hurt.

“Don’t speak. I need you to listen. If you want to see Dante again, you’re going to chill the fuck out and pretend to be my doting wife.”

“And if I don’t?”

I should have known she wouldn’t make things easy, and I had no idea why I still hoped for a more positive outcome when she had every reason to want to dismember me and throw the pieces off a cliff. Although I didn’t want to antagonize her, I decided to give her a few hard truths in the desperate and probably futile hope that she’d listen.

“You go to jail, and you don’t get to see your dog. Choose wisely.”