Pure Vengeance

Chapter 13

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Natasha

Keeping space between us, I followed Lachlan to his house. Sadly, he didn’t seem to be afraid of me, but he was definitely wary. I supposed that was good enough.

“I sent all the staff home,” he said as I followed him to a ground-floor guest room. “This is yours. I’m afraid we’re on our own for cooking and cleaning.”

“It’s okay. I’ll make sure I stay away from the vet.”

“You’re not going to hurt the person who can make your dog better,” he replied as if he truly believed it.

Before I could respond, he added, “There’s clothes in the dresser to tide you over until you can get back to your place.”

“Okay. I’m going to clean up.”

I walked into the room and shut the door in his face, then turned the lock set into the knob. It wouldn’t keep Lachlan out if he really wanted in, but I’d have plenty of warning if he decided to invade my space.

The guest suite overlooking the woods to the south wasn’t as large as Lachlan’s room, but it was comfortable and decorated in soothing shades of pale green and gray with oak furnishings. The dresser was full of unisex clothing in assorted sizes and colors, socks, and both men’s and women’s underwear still in their packages. There were even several pairs of new slippers in the closet.

After grabbing fresh clothes, I went into the bathroom and locked that door too. Wrapped toothbrushes, toothpaste, and bathing products were in a large basket on the sink vanity, along with a small first aid kit containing a few basics.

“Amateurs,” I muttered. There wasn’t even a suture kit. After growing up with Steve Ashland, I was probably as well-trained as a military field medic, so the one I had at home was in a rolling tackle box.

I showered as quickly as I could, and after drying off, I dressed and gave my short curls a quick scrunch with my fingers.

God, I loved my new hair. It was probably stupid to look for silver linings in my unwanted marriage to Lachlan, but my therapist encouraged it. Surprisingly, it even helped sometimes.

She wanted me to think about what my life would look like if I forgave him for what he’d done to me. Sometimes, when I thought about Dante, I could almost picture it.

Without Lachlan, I wouldn’t have met Dante, and my father wouldn’t know I was the one who killed him.

Big, sparkly silver lining right there!

My stomach rumbled, and I snapped my fingers for Dante before I remembered he wasn’t around to have lunch with me. Tears burned and I wiped them hurriedly before finding a pair of slippers in my size. I couldn’t think about losing my baby dog.

Steeling my spine, I left my room. Oddly enough, I remembered the way to the kitchen.

Before I reached it, I heard the blare of a smoke alarm and broke into a run. I stopped cold when I found Lachlan spraying the stove with a fire extinguisher.

“Shit!” He set the extinguisher on the counter and sighed as he opened a window to allow the smoke to escape. “Goddamnit. What a mess.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” Using a potholder, he grabbed a blackened skillet dripping with foam and tossed it into the sink.

“Um…” I moved closer and peered at the stove. The cooktop didn’t appear to be damaged, but it was crusted with burnt food. “This doesn’t look like nothing.”

“Fine.” Still glaring at the skillet, he crossed his arms over his chest. “I was trying to make French toast, but the fruit stuff boiled over, and then the sausages decided to catch on fire.”

My mouth fell open, but I couldn’t think of a single thing to say when I realized he’d tried to recreate the first and only meal I’d ever cooked for him.

“French toast.” Some odd sort of sound bubbled in my chest, and I coughed to dislodge it. “French toast?”

“And that fruit stuff you made, plus sausages.” Scowling at the stove, he added, “Guess we’re having sandwiches instead.”

“French toast.” I coughed again, but the sound escaped and turned into hysterical laughter before I could stop it.

“That’s all you have to say?” His cheeks reddened and he turned his glare on me, but a faint smile blossomed on his lips. “You forgot the sausages and fruit stuff.”

Unable to control it any longer, I sank into a chair and kept laughing.

Lachlan

Her giggles eventually faded, but I didn’t want her to stop laughing—even if it was at my expense. I had no idea what the hell I was thinking when I tried to cook actual food. I was lucky I hadn’t burnt the house down.

After wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes, she snorted out another giggle, then said, “Well, let’s hope you’re better at cleaning than you are at cooking. When you’re finished, make sandwiches. Lettuce, tomato, and mayo on mine, please.”

“You’re not going to help?”

She shrugged and went to the wine fridge for a bottle of chardonnay. After uncorking it, she got a glass from the overhead stemware rack and poured herself a drink without offering me one. “Nope. Not my mess.”

“I’d get done faster with two of us.”

“And?” Leaving me to it, she spent several minutes looking through the fridge and pantry.

The woman in my kitchen wasn’t the same one I’d married. This Natasha was confident and self-assured, with a dry, somewhat acerbic wit I enjoyed. I especially liked that she wasn’t bending over backward to please me out of fear, or because she thought she had to. Of course, her attitude probably had a lot to do with her newfound combat skills. She also made a note of where all the knives were as she got her wine.

And because I was still a sick bastard, I loved it.

“As my lady commands,” I murmured as I got cleaning products from under the sink. “What are you planning for supper?”

She got a large steel bowl from the shelf under the kitchen island, then added yeast, water, and a healthy dollop of honey. “Herbed Focaccia, salad, and I think pastina with parm and chopped kale. I’ll make plenty for all of us, plus leftovers because I’m not cooking when I should be spending time with Dante.”

“All of us?”

“You, me, the vet, and her technician.” She dumped flour into the yeast mixture without measuring it, then mixed it with a wooden spoon.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

Natasha’s spoon stilled for a moment before she started stirring again. “My father used to hire undocumented workers for housekeeping staff. He paid them a pittance and threatened them with deportation or worse if they tried to report what he was doing to me. Sometimes the cook would let me watch her. They finally managed to get out a few months before our wedding.”

“How?”

“My father took me and the guards to some fancy hotel for a party. Nobody was there to stop them. After that, I watched cooking videos on the internet.”

“So glad he’s dead.”

“No kidding. Anyway, I assume Saoirse won’t be joining us.”

“No.” I hesitated, then added, “You scare her.”

“Good. I meant to.” She spread olive oil on the kitchen island, then turned the dough out. “As long as you don’t fuck with me again, she’s in no danger from me.”

I nodded and scrubbed sticky burnt fruit from the cooktop. “I get it. I… Everything I did to you was to make your father hurt. I can’t exactly blame you for turning it back on me.”

“I don’t want to harm her, Lachlan.” She kneaded her dough in silence for a few seconds. “But she will die if you try to force me into that kennel again.”

Natasha’s words, spoken in a flat, emotionless monotone, chilled me. “I understand. You have every right to protect yourself, and I won’t touch you without your consent.”

“Good.” She slid the smooth ball of dough into the bowl and coated it with more oil, then covered it tightly with plastic wrap. “I do want to thank you for something.”

“What’s that?”

“You gave me the means to finally end the old bastard.” She grabbed a rag and cleaned up the last traces of flour and oil from the kitchen island, then washed her hands. “And once Dante is well, we’re leaving California. You’ll never see us again.”

“For what it’s worth, I wouldn’t have done any of it if I’d known.”

“Considering you still haven’t signed our divorce papers, it’s not worth much.” After drying her hands, she added, “Forget the sandwich. I’ll be back in a few hours to make supper.”

I didn’t want her to leave, but I couldn’t physically stop her after promising I wouldn’t touch her. Before she could walk away, I asked, “Natasha, what would it take for you to let us start over?”

“It would take a miracle, Lachlan, and I think we’re both too old believe in them.” She smiled, but her thickly lashed brown eyes seemed to look right through me. “Sign the papers and let me go.”

Without waiting for me to answer, she walked out. However, she left me with probably more information than she intended.

The kitchen wasn’t the only thing I needed to clean up, and I’d already put it off too long.

After wiping my hands, I got my phone and tapped Finn’s contact. He answered on the first ring.

“Do you need us to return, sir?”

“No. I have a job for you.”