Page 25 of Dark Things (Payback Duet #1)

Rebelle

H aunt’s been gone for too long. I look out the window again and don’t see his truck in the driveway. I don’t like him going off alone, but I understand sometimes it’s how it is. Stan separates us for different jobs, and while I hate it, there’s nothing I can do.

I walk down into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge and a protein bar from the cabinet.

I might as well check on the cameras at the guys’ house while I have nothing else to do.

Cat is out of the house, and I’ve finished up my homework for the rest of the week.

One thing that’s stayed with me all these years is my ability to pre-plan my assignments so I don’t get backed up when shit gets crazy around here.

I close my bedroom door and pad over to the desk near the window. My computer is already open, so a couple of clicks brings me to the program I set up to watch the house. I haven’t checked the feed in a while, so there’s a bunch of hours to go through.

At first, it’s boring things. Colter eating at the breakfast table, Brooks doing laundry, Staff studying in the living room. Nothing of note. But then I see it—a call comes through a few hours ago and Colter’s whole demeanor changes. I slip on my headphones and raise the volume.

“Yeah,” he says.

I can’t hear the other person on the line, but from the scowl that crosses his face, I can only assume that it isn’t good.

“We’ll be there in twenty,” he replies, and hangs up.

Raking his hands through his hair, I can see the stress from here. Through the screen it’s easy to fall back into old habits. My heart wants me to reach out and hold him, but then my brain kicks on again, and I growl at myself. I can’t afford to be distracted by what needs to be done.

They don’t get to walk away scot-free, not like last time.

He walks downstairs, and I follow his movements until he’s in the living room where Staff and Brooks are playing some sort of video game. I switch the audio to the living room and listen in.

“Boss just called. He’s got something for us. A guy who was supposed to be working for them has decided to dabble in shit he isn’t supposed to. We have to bring him in so that they can have a chat.”

“Fucking great. This is the last thing I wanted to do tonight. If we didn’t need that asshole so much, I would say fuck it and we could just leave,” Staff says, throwing the controller down on the couch before getting up.

“Who is this clown?” Brooks asks, shutting down the game and getting up to stand with the other two.

“Have no idea, all he did was give me a first name, which is super generic. I have an address and a few places to check out. We have to bring him in and not do too much damage,” Colter says.

I suck in a breath. What in the fuck have these boys been doing since I’ve been gone? It’s not like I’ve been an angel, but for them to be involved with something this dark? How did my boys become like this?

I want to scream through the screen, make them see reason, but the other part of me delights in their misery.

Wants them to feel the pain of being trapped with no escape.

But why do this? Why go this route? It’s not like they need the money.

They weren’t the bad boy type, either. There’s got to be another reason for all of this.

But this is an opportunity. A chance to find a way to make everything crumble around them. If I can find out who they’re working for, I might be able to use it to my advantage, and then I could destroy everything they’ve built here .

“Let’s get this shit over with. One more mission to have us closer to getting the answers we need,” Colter says.

They don’t say anything else, but I track them until they’re out of the house anyway. Once the headlights disappear from the living room window, I close out the program and sit back, blowing out a breath.

I didn’t put the cameras in their house to get more questions. I needed answers, ways to fuck with them to exact my revenge, not to feel sorry for them.

Fuck this.

I get up and make my way outside. There’s no one visible on the property, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t guards on patrol.

Ever since the afternoon with Brett, I’ve been carrying my gun around.

I don’t trust Stan’s guys, and I trust Brett even less.

Sure Haunt made a deal with him, but that doesn’t mean we can put our faith in a guy who tried to take us out because he was following another one of Stan’s stupid tests.

Ever since Haunt and I have been doing missions alone, Stan has set us up to fail one way or another, like a sick joke. He wants us to be the best at everything, but also makes it the hardest it can be. I feel like part of me is always in fight mode and it’s starting to wear on my soul.

The horses are all tucked in their stalls for the night, but I need an outlet. I walk over to Midnight’s stall and open up the latch. He’s chopping on some of the alfalfa I put in here earlier, but once he sees me, he turns and butts his head into my chest.

“Hey, boy. Want to go for a quick ride?” I ask, rubbing his cheek.

I swear if there’s any horse that could understand what I’m saying, it would be Midnight. I move and grab his harness, slipping it over his nose and clipping it under his chin.

I don’t bother attaching the lead rope, slipping my fingers under his chin and walking him out to the side of the barn.

There’s a block near the door. I step up and grab his mane before flinging myself over.

I don’t need a saddle or bridle to ride Midnight.

I’m sure enough in his abilities and personality that I can trust he’ll behave.

He’s been an extension of me since the day I’ve gotten him.

We walk slowly around the edge of the property, my eyes scanning the horizon where the sun is dipping down low.

It’s beautiful out here this time of day.

The leaves are just starting to turn a wonderful kaleidoscope of colors, getting ready for fall.

The birds chirp in the trees, and I even hear those fucking peeper frogs again.

I press my heels into his side to make him transition into a slow trot before giving him the signal to canter. His gate is so smooth, it’s as if I’m merely a flea on his back. I don’t even have to steady myself so much.

We make a loop to the eastern side of the property, and I notice the two guards patrolling. Both stop to watch me. Midnight’s ears stand straight up and go in their direction. He slows his canter into a walk, his muscles bunching up underneath me. He does not like these guys.

I pat his neck and press my right thigh into him, giving him the direction to move over to the left. I slide my hand behind my back and pull my gun to sit on my thigh. They can think anything they’d like, but I’m not taking chances with Midnight here.

“Evening, sweet thing,” one of them says, licking his lips.

Gross.

I nod anyway and keep going back in the direction of the house, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy them.

“Where are you off to, honey? Want to come down from that horse and show us what’s between those thighs?” the other asks, grabbing his dick through his fatigues.

I press both thighs into Midnight and whisper out a whoa. He stops immediately, but a quiver works through his muscles. He stomps his foot, ears pinned down. If they get any closer, I have no doubt he’ll rear up.

“What I do or don’t do doesn’t concern either of you. Why don’t you go back to your patrol so we can all continue to enjoy this evening,” I say, clicking off the safety of my SIG with my thumb.

The gun is still resting on my thigh, but I won’t hesitate to shoot this fucker if I think he’s going to make a move. I’ll leave Brett to deal with the clean up.

“Nah, everything that goes on here concerns us. And you, sweet thing, are very intriguing.”

I sigh. “Listen, I get that out here you think you can say whatever you want to whomever because you’ve decided that you’re important working for Stan.

A big mercenary boss who’s a bit scary. Feels good, right, all macho and shit?

I can imagine when your brains match the size of your dicks, it’s empowering to be considered fodder in a war you have no idea about.

But that has nothing to do with me or whatever the fuck this is.

Either you leave me to the rest of my ride, or I shoot one of you in the face while the other gets trampled by my horse. ”

They have the audacity to laugh. Fine, I guess it’s going to be the hard way then.

“Last chance. And the one of you that remains standing is going to have to explain to Brett why their partner was killed.”

“I’m pretty sure you’re all talk,” one of them growls, pulling his gun from the holster on his hip and taking two strides toward me.

My arm is too quick for them to track the movement, and the guy with the gun goes down, a bullet in his brain.

I glance at the one on the left, who is standing there too shocked to do anything else. I give him a minute before he turns to me, eyes wide .

“Want to end up like your buddy?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No…I…um…no.”

“Good. Next time you see a woman on this property, treat her with some fucking respect. It’s really fucking annoying when guys think they can do or saying anything to make us uncomfortable. Stop being a douchebag. Do better.”

I trudge up the stairs after I get Midnight settled in for the night. Switching on the bathroom light, I jump in the shower and wash quickly. Once I’m out I check my phone, and I still have no call or text from Haunt. I’m starting to get worried.

Wiping the fog from the mirror, I look at the girl staring back at me. She’s familiar but not. My hair is a dark chestnut where it used to be auburn. My eyes, green where they used to be an aqua, and my face. It’s almost too different for me to recognize the girl I was before.

A part of me is glad she doesn’t have to live this life.

She died the night my uncle took everything from me.

My autonomy, my family, and my life as I knew it.

I was once the typical sixteen-year-old rich girl who only cared about hanging out with her three best friends and going to high school parties to get away from the shit our parents put us through.

Being a Vanderbilt wasn’t easy. My parents were strict, especially with who I was friends with, but they never had anything to say about Colter, Staff, or Brooks.

I think they figured I’d end up married to one of them, and it would be good enough because they came from respectable families who were in the same circles as them. What a fucking joke that was.

The moment shit got hard, they left me in the dirt and walked over my body. The night my uncle raped and beat me half to death because I walked in on him confessing to a murder was the beginning of the end of Belle Vanderbilt.

I let out a low breath and pick up the toothpaste to smear on the brush before taking care of my nighttime routine.

It’s maddening what being back here has brought to the surface.

Part of me wants to give in to these feelings, but the other part, the part that was created by Stan—Pitch—she wants to go in guns blazing and kill every one of them.

As I drift off to sleep my phone rings. I peek up at it with groggy eyes.

“You okay?” I ask, sitting up and throwing my feet over the bed. I’m half way to my closet by the time he answers.

“Fine, but we need to go hunting. Be to you in ten minutes; meet me at The Point,” he says, before hanging up.

I blow out a breath and shrug a pair of black cargo pants and a black long-sleeve henley. I make quick work of placing all my knives in the right places and throw my hair up in a ponytail.

My boots go on last, and then I’m out the window, landing on the ground a moment later. I don’t know what the fuck happened tonight, but if Haunt says we need to go hunting, it could only mean one thing—we’re about to hurt some people.