Page 48 of Upon Blooded Lips (Vengeance #1)

TESSA

I bounce in my seat, anticipation running high as Nate drives us toward my father’s building downtown.

We park in an alley behind RH Enterprises and climb out of the car.

We creep toward the building dressed all in black, the warm, muggy evening enveloping us in its sticky heat.

We blend in with the shadows, unbothered by the security cameras we pass.

Eric already took care of them, feeding a loop through their systems.

We reach the emergency exit, and I glance up at the tall building.

Memories of coming here as a young child flash through my mind, images of Robert shouting at me to be quiet, or playing quietly in a corner with a doll while he spoke on the phone.

I breathe out a ragged breath, my muscles tense while I wait for Nate to pick the lock.

Eric disarmed the alarm earlier, so we’re only greeted with the light screech of metal when Nate pulls the door open and ushers us inside.

Robert’s been panicking lately because of Eric’s online machinations.

One problem after another has plagued his company, causing investors to back out and several employees to seek employment elsewhere.

He even triggered an IRS audit and sent an anonymous tip to the SEC.

RH Enterprises is hemorrhaging money, and Eric’s made it look like Robert is embezzling money from his shareholders.

Various offshore accounts substantiate this, and we’ve ensured any investigator worth their salt will have more than enough proof to indict.

Of course, it will never get that far. Tonight, Robert will take his life, too scared to face prison and the judgment of his peers.

We’re just going to help him along a little.

That means, though, that I’ve had to come to terms with not being able to dish out the revenge I deserve. Again. But I can live with that.

I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face as we stride up the concrete stairs, bypassing the elevators.

Nate goes first, gun drawn, sweeping it back and forth each time we reach a landing.

By the time we reach the eighth floor, my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest, and I hold on to the railing, gasping for air.

The two assholes beside me, who aren’t even breathing hard, chuckle.

Once I’ve caught my breath, Eric squeezes my hand. “Ready for this?”

“Yeah. I have been, for a long, long time.” I stop in front of the doors and take a deep breath before letting it out slowly.

Mirror Girl watches through my eyes, her glee bleeding into me.

Eric taps into the building’s mainframe, shutting the overhead lights and phone lines off.

We give each other a nod, and I stalk down the main walkway, my two demons at my back with their guns drawn.

We pass by the dark glass-walled rooms and secretary desks, the ghost of perfume and toner ink lingering in the air.

This would have been much more entertaining on the seventh floor, where endless rows of cubicles would have made a fun game of hide and seek.

We turn left, following the aisle leading to the bosses’ offices.

Tiny floor lights located every ten feet are our only source of light, casting little glowing bubbles of illumination onto the navy-blue carpeting, like a miniature runway leading to my father.

My feet carry me forward on autopilot, the steps memorized long ago.

The carpet muffles our sounds, but something, premonition maybe, alerts Robert to our presence.

“Hello?” he calls from the doorway, his silhouette nothing but a faint outline among the shadows. “Who’s there?” His voice wavers at the end, like he can feel the malevolence pouring off me.

His office light comes back on, blinding him, and I rush forward, shoving him inside.

He stumbles back, blinking, his mouth falling open when he focuses on me and the men at my back.

I grin back at him, saying nothing, allowing him to get his bearings.

It takes a moment, but he straightens his spine and puts on his “disappointed father” look while fixing his skewed suit jacket.

“Well, this is a surprise. Where have you been all this time? Your mother’s been worried sick.”

A laugh bubbles in my throat at the audacious statement. “Really? And here I thought all the news interviews were just her way of seeking attention.”

He takes a seat behind his desk, his gaze raking over the two men behind me before dismissing them.

I’m not sure if he’s brave or just plain stupid.

Probably a bit of both. He’s used to being in charge, in having everyone—except Presley—bow and scrape to him, scrambling to do his bidding.

Even me. I’m sure he looks at me like he’s always done, like I’m still that scared little girl who cowered in the corner during his punishments for talking back.

Or the child that lay crumpled on the floor while his wife beat her almost to death for the sin of writing letters.

Robert doesn’t know the new me. The woman standing before him is stronger, more confident, and loved for the first time in her life.

The suffering they doled out has replaced her porous bones with ones made of steel and created a being who thirsts for their deaths in recompense. Everyone pays the piper eventually.

Now it’s his turn, and this piper takes payment only in blood.

“I don’t appreciate you talking about my wife like that,” Robert says, narrowing his eyes at me.

“And I don’t appreciate my parents trying to sell me off to increase their social status. I guess we can both live with disappointment.”

He half rises from his chair and slaps his hands on his desk. “You’re an ungrateful little bitch. I should have forced your mother to scrape you from her womb or left you to die in a dumpster like the trash you are.”

Nate leaps over the desk with a grace that should be impossible for someone his size, a growl rumbling in his chest. He grabs Robert by the hair, slams him back into his chair, and tilts his head, exposing his throat like a lion going for its prey.

“Don’t you fucking speak to her like that,” he says in a menacing tone that sends goosebumps soaring up my arms.

Nate releases him and takes a step back, hovering over my father like he’s begging him to say something else. Fortunately for him, Robert rarely holds his tongue.

Unless it’s when you’re being abused.

“So which one are you fucking?” he says with a sneer, eyeing the way Eric hovers protectively beside me.

“That’s a strange question for a man to ask his daughter. Why do you care?”

Robert gives a disgusted laugh. “Always knew you’d grow up to be a whore.”

His head slams into the desk with a force that would make me flinch if it happened to anyone else. “I told you to watch your mouth,” Nate growls, his enormous hand spanning the width of my father’s head.

I release a bitter laugh. “I’d rather be a whore than a pimp. And that’s exactly what you and Presley were, weren’t you? Laughing with your friends at the club, drinking from crystal glasses, acting all high and mighty, all while selling out your only child.”

He struggles against Nate’s hold, but he crushes Robert’s face into the wooden surface. “What the fuck do you want?” he grumbles, a deep flush spreading over his cheeks. He doesn’t like being powerless.

I stroll around the desk and kneel beside the drawers, raking through each one until I find a stack of blank paper with his letterhead on the top and place it in front of him. “Write.”

Nate lets go of his head, and Robert gingerly sits up, rubbing the side of his face.

He darts his gaze around before leaping for his phone, clutching it to him as he picks up the receiver.

Eric laughs at the way his face falls when there’s no dial tone.

Nate plucks it out of his hand and sets it back in its place before taking a pen from the engraved pen stand Presley got him for his fortieth birthday and forcing his fingers around it.

“Who were you going to call? Officers Grange and Kendrick? Oh, wait, I killed them.”

Robert sputters and throws the pen across the room. Nate draws his gun out and presses it against Robert’s temple. He goes still, the whites of his eyes showing. Eric sits the pen in front of him and returns to my side.

“God, you’re like a fucking two-year-old,” I mutter. “Pick the pen up and write down what I say. Then we’ll leave, okay?”

“Fine,” he grits out, picking it up.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t do this anymore.” The pen scratches across the paper, and when he’s finished, I add, “Now sign your name.” After he obeys, Eric grabs the paper and checks it, giving me a nod.

“What was that for?” my father asks, stiffening when Nate presses the gun tighter against him.

I tilt my head and give him a pretty smile. “Oh, that? That was your suicide note.”

Robert pushes his chair back in a show of desperation, beads of sweat dotting his brow. Nate slides his arm around his neck, halting his attempted escape, and leads him around the desk. Robert struggles in his hold, his face red from lack of air, but he’s no match for Nate’s strength.

“No one will believe it,” he gasps, his hands clawing at Nate’s arm. “I’d never kill myself.”

I laugh as we walk him out of the room and to the stairs leading to the roof. “I mean, what with the IRS, the SEC, the embezzling?—”

“Bitch.”

We trudge up the stairs, each one a step closer to the end of one of my tormentors.

“Aww, you’re cute. Your words can’t hurt me anymore, Daddy.

” Eric pushes open the heavy metal doors, and our footsteps crunch on the gravel as we lead him toward the edge.

He goes limp, his feet scraping against the ground in one last attempt to free himself, but Nate only tightens his grip, dragging him up to the ledge surrounding the building.

“Why?”

“Seriously?” I ask incredulously. “You can’t figure that one out on your own?

How about letting your brother rape me? Or the time you beat the shit out of me for talking back?

Or all the times you stood and watched while your wife did everything she could to destroy me?

” I step toward him, tears pricking my eyes.

“Before you die, I want you to look into my eyes and know that I’m the one who destroyed you.

We set you up. When the authorities investigate your death, they’ll discover everything.

And the one thing you treasured—your reputation—will be gone in a puff of smoke. ”

He lets out an “ Oomph ” when Nate sets him on the ledge facing the alley. We don’t want anyone to discover his body before we leave the building. “Tessa, please. You can’t do this. I’m your father.”

“And that’s the tragedy of it, isn’t it?

Fathers are supposed to check under the bed and lock the doors against the monsters.

Instead, you opened them wide and welcomed them in.

Well, guess what, Dad ? You turned me into one too.

And now, I’ll let the men who helped me escape you send you to hell while I watch.

Just like you stood back and watched while ignoring my cries for help. ”

“Tessa—” A scream rips from his throat when Nate shoves him. I peer over the edge, something inside me breaking when he hits the ground. A tear slips free, a single acknowledgment of a dream lost, of what could have been had I been born into a family that loved me.