Taste of Vengeance Read online

  She would be awake. She would be aware. But she would be trapped within her own body. Unable to speak or move.

  Yanking back the comforter, he revealed the plastic-lined bed.

  He laid her down and leaned over her so he could see the horror in her eyes as he spoke.

  “That’s exactly what I mean. Kill.”

  43

  Welcome to Silicon Valley

  Sydney was convinced that Damien was drugging me, but I’d looked into his eyes and seen the horror, the fear, and the love, when he had talked about my near drowning. It was hard to reconcile that with someone who wanted to harm me.

  But as night drew near, I wondered why I hadn’t heard from him. If he was so worried about me, you’d think at least he’d call.

  And then, when it was nearly time to leave for dinner, Rich knocked and said that Damien had called him.

  And that we’d meet Damien at the Ipanema restaurant.

  I curbed my jealousy. It wasn’t really my business how Damien spent his afternoon.

  We’d established the ground rules from the beginning—an open relationship.

  It was what I’d wanted, as well.

  But I had to admit that at times I doubted my resolve.

  Sometimes when he was sleeping peacefully beside me after lovemaking I envisioned that this was our life. It didn’t have to involve marriage, but a small part of me wanted the security of a monogamous relationship.

  He was waiting when our car pulled up to the restaurant and he rushed to the door, opening it, pulling me out by my hand and scooping me into his arms. He buried his face in my hair and inhaled loudly. “I missed you.” He breathed the words into my ear in a hot rush.

  I laughed. “I saw you a few hours ago.”

  “You look amazing,” he said. “How do you feel?”

  He drew back and examined my face.

  “Back up to speed,” I said.

  That’s when I noticed his hair was wet. He’d recently showered. I dismissed a flicker of jealousy. He’d shower after a workout, as well, right? Again, it was truly none of my business.

  He turned to greet Sydney who was wearing a white, off-the-shoulder dress. She looked spectacular. And as if she hadn’t even tried. Which, come to think of it, she probably hadn’t.

  We entered the restaurant and found our private dining room.

  The walls were painted a deep green and the massive table and chairs were a faded turquoise. The whole place had an underwater vibe. Wall-sized windows overlooked the beach. The room was lit by candles in wall sconces.

  I wasn’t a jealous person, but when Damien sat Sydney near him and me by Rich, I felt a stab of envy. And insecurity.

  But then again, I remembered the look in his eyes after he’d saved me today.

  The people he’d fucked the previous night—and maybe this afternoon—were no competition. Not really.

  But Sydney? She was another story. She was gorgeous and sexy and most importantly, smart. Damien liked smart.

  I thought about our conversation earlier. Could she be right? My thinking was a little fuzzy. I didn’t want to think. I just wanted to feel. I downed my glass of wine and poured another.

  Sydney didn’t notice. I felt guilty remembering I’d told her I’d try cutting back. I wouldn’t. Drinking and smoking weed was my usual shitty way of not dealing. And without the opportunity to train at the dojo, I had few other releases right then.

  I’d concentrate on enjoying authentic Brazilian food and the company around me.

  When the waiter brought a seafood stew he called Moqueca, I knew I’d died and gone to heaven.

  The first bite of creamy shrimp, coconut milk, and lime-deliciousness was orgasmic. I closed my eyes savoring the first spoonful, letting the flavors roll around my tongue.

  I opened my eyes in time to see Zoe, the stunning English model, make a face and push her soup bowl toward the middle of the table.

  The guy to my right was cute and engaging so I focused my attention on him instead of worrying about what Damien was doing. His name was Tim, and he was some big-time founder. He’d started a company that created a simple DNA blood test that could predict the odds of people developing certain high-risk cancers. The company was about to go public on the stock exchange, and he was poised to become the next Elon Musk. Or Damien Thornwell.

  I’d noticed that Rich and Damien surrounded themselves with up-and-coming men and gorgeous women.

  I turned to the woman on my other side. Her name was Cat.

  “Tell me about your job again?”

  “It’s waiting on the men.” She said it matter-of-factly and took another slug of her frothy drink.

  “Is that what you want to do?”

  “Hell, no,” she said. “Why do you think I’m here?”

  I shrugged. “A free vacation?”

  “No. I’m here because I’m going to ask Rich for a promotion.”

  “To what?”

  “Fucking CFO, baby. I have a masters in accounting and ten years of being a CFO for a bank.”

  “Nice.” I raised my glass to her, but then grew somber. “Do you think you have to come here and fuck people to get that promotion.”

  “Duh,” she said staring straight ahead.

  “That’s pretty fucked up.”

  “Welcome to Silicon Valley, bitches.” She raised her wine glass in a toast to the room.

  “Everyone is like this?”

  “You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t,” she said. She was starting to slur her words. “If you sleep with them, they may not hire you or promote you. If you don’t—same.”

  I nodded. “I’ve heard a little about that.”

  “Believe it or not. Rich and Damien are probably the most decent game in town.”

  “Huh.” A waiter brought out some platters. One contained what looked like a grilled Octopus that had its head chopped off. It was surrounded by perfectly roasted potatoes and sprinkled with chopped scallions.

  “Madame, polvo na chapa.” The waiter announced with a flourish.

  “Ugh. I think I’m going to vomit,” Zoe said from across the table as she eyed the platter.

  I reached for the serving spoon.

  “Listen, I don’t think we should talk about this anymore.” Cat shot a glance at Rich who was eyeballing her.

  Without looking her way, I said quietly, “I’ve got my own company. It’s not tech. But it really could use a woman with your expertise. Why don’t you look me up if you don’t get what you want from these guys?”

  Cat grabbed her bag and excused herself. She didn’t respond to my offer.

  I turned to the guy another chair down. Nick. He’d been talking to Zoe, but she was now leaning in and laughing at something Rich was saying.

  He spoke about his start-up company with such assurance, I did a double take.

  “How old are you anyway?” I asked.

  “Twenty-seven.”

  “You’re shitting me?” I said. I was nursing my fourth drink, and I knew the swear words were going to fly. I didn’t care at that point.

  He smiled. “You just say whatever you want, don’t you?”

  “Fuck yeah,” I said and held my glass up so the waiter would bring me another. I was feeling no pain.

  “And you like your booze?”

  I examined him over the rim of my glass for a second before I said, not dropping my gaze. “I like all my vices.”

  A red flush crept up his neck.

  He quickly regained his composure though, saying. “I guess you and Damien are a good match, then?”

  I was startled into speechlessness. By a few parts of that sentence.

  Were we viewed as a couple by the others? And what were Damien’s vices exactly? I hadn’t figured that out yet. He didn’t drink much. He wouldn’t smoke weed with me. He drank a fucking green smoothie and worked out every day. What were his vices?

  Drugs and sex? That was all I could think of.

  “Damien’s pre
tty straight laced except for the Molly, right?” I said it in a casual voice, hoping to glean some tidbit I didn’t already know.

  He had the good graces to look down without answering. He didn’t want to talk about Damien’s sex life.

  We both turned to watch Damien, who was listening intently to something Sydney was saying.

  His brow was furrowed. He didn’t look happy.

  “I mean besides him loving to fuck everything that has a heartbeat, right?”

  The man burst into nervous laughter. I gave him another look. No, he hadn’t been the one slipping out of Damien’s room in the pre-dawn hours.

  “Yeah.”

  I leaned forward, putting my hand on his.

  “Or maybe there is something you aren’t telling me?”

  He squirmed. Suddenly I felt stone-cold sober.

  “Why don’t you tell me …” I left the question hanging.

  But then the conversation between Damien and Sydney grew heated. So much so that we all shut up. We couldn’t help but watch. I couldn’t make out what he was saying. His voice was low.

  His left hand clenched his napkin. The vein on the side of his neck pulsed.

  Damien noticed we were watching and quickly regained his composure.

  “Sorry, we just both got passionate about our sports team. I know I shouldn’t care that much, but I’ve been a Raiders fan since I was ten.”

  Sydney’s face remained expressionless.

  He raised his hand for the bill.

  “I thought we should make it an early night. I’ve arranged for us to hang glide tomorrow at first light. I wanted to fit it in before the crowds descend on Rio for Carnival.”

  After he finished speaking, people resumed their conversations, but I kept staring. He met my eyes, and I forced a smile, but I couldn’t help but wonder what the fuck had just happened.

  44

  Dangerous Ground

  Sydney lingered after everyone headed for the line of SUV’s out front, saying she had to swing by the women’s room.

  Once she was inside the bathroom, Sydney stood in front of the mirror, clutching the porcelain sides of the sink with her hands, searching her own eyes.

  Fuck. He was on to her.

  That accident involving Gia today? The tank had clearly been for her. She’d been suspicious and switched it. Which had saved her, but nearly cost Gia her life. If she’d only been more certain that something was awry, she would’ve made sure Gia’s tank was safe, as well.

  Well, now she knew.

  And while it was a pain to protect Gia when the woman wouldn’t believe anything bad about Damien, Sydney would still do it.

  But right now, Sydney wasn’t worried about Gia, even if the woman was being drugged. Right now, Sydney knew, Damien had his sights set on her. She was his target.

  He’d revealed his hand at dinner.

  She’d casually mentioned that she’d met one of his employees—a man named Clem. It was a risky move.

  As soon as she spoke, she realized just how dangerous a game she was playing.

  The name had sparked a reaction that sent a deep chill down her spine. Damien’s eyes had turned into black pools without light. Looking into them, Sydney thought she saw death itself. Shaking the foreboding off, she grabbed her glass and took a big sip of her wine. But then set the glass back down.

  She had to stay sober. She was on very dangerous ground.

  “Tell me again where you met this Clem?” His voice was cold and calculated.

  Sydney met his gaze. “I didn’t say.”

  Think fast, Rye. She was scrambling to remember any other Clem she’d ever heard of.

  “I don’t know anyone by that name.” He didn’t blink as he said it.

  Sydney smiled. “My mistake. I think I was wrong. His name was Daniel. I think I got him confused with Clem Daniels, the Raider football player.”

  “That fucker?”

  The swearing surprised her. Damien hadn’t sworn before. That’s when she noticed three empty wine glasses and an empty bottle by his place. He was drunk.

  He pounded his fist on the table and grabbed her wrist so hard she knew it would leave a mark. Using her other hand, she easily freed herself from his grasp in a well-rehearsed self-defense move that came naturally to her. His eyes lit up with surprise. That’s right, fucker, underestimate me, she thought.

  Everyone else at the table had grown quiet and were watching and listening.

  Damien smiled and made an excuse about them arguing over a sports team.

  Now, in the powder room, Sydney’s hands were shaking. She had to think fast. Now that Damien was on to her, her time was running out.

  45

  Release

  Sydney Rye was endangering everything.

  The life he’d crafted so carefully. The persona he’d developed to show the world.

  It was his own damn fault. He’d had too much to drink. Bringing her to Brazil was a mistake. But he’d made a worse mistake by overreacting when she’d brought up Clem.

  Had he been sober, he would’ve been able to maintain a placid face. But he had lost it. His anger, thinly disguised, had revealed something to her. He’d seen it in her eyes. What she suspected, he didn’t know, but he knew she was on to him somehow.

  And she would make him pay.

  She was trying to make it all crumble before him.

  A mere woman.

  Clem. Where in the fuck had she found out about Clem?

  In his room, downing yet another whiskey, he chided himself. He allowed himself to indulge on vacation but sometimes, like tonight, he over did it. As soon as he got back to the states, he was going on the wagon again. Intoxication impaired his judgement and made a man weak.

  Made a man make mistakes.

  Like Sydney Rye. She was a mistake.

  She was dangerous. And she’d have to be dealt with.

  His entire life hung on the brink of the precipice because of one dumb bitch.

  But, like everyone who’d ever crossed him, she’d be sorry. Just like his mother. Just like every other woman who didn’t worship him like she should.

  She’d played her hand too early. After dinner, he’d made a few calls. He’d found out exactly who she was and who had hired her.

  Information on Joyful Justice was scarce, but Damien was able to cobble together a rough idea of what they did and who was involved.

  After he took care of her, he’d focus on destroying everyone else involved in the vigilante organization. Just for kicks.

  Right before she took her last breath, he’d tell her what he knew and what he had planned. Just to see the terror in her eyes before the light left them.

  And then he’d get on with his own life. With Gia.

  Picking up the phone, Damien punched in a familiar number.

  At first, he argued with the person on the other end of the line and then he realized he’d let the heat of his emotions steer him wrong. This new plan was smarter, more cunning, less risky.

  “Get it right this time.”

  After a few moments, he hung up and logged onto this computer. He brought up a secure dark web website and transferred ungodly amounts of bitcoins into the proper account. He’d pay the second half once the job was done.

  The results were worth every penny.

  The important thing was that she would be dead by tomorrow night.

  46

  Truce

  Early the next morning, yawning and wiping the sleep from our eyes, we all piled into the black SUVs. The road wound through the Tijuca Forest to the top of Corcovado Hill. We would see the monumental Christ the Redeemer statue up close before we headed to a nearby mountaintop to hang glide.

  As we drove beneath the dense jungle canopy, Damien told us that the Tijuca Forest was the world’s largest urban rainforest. We turned a corner and were greeted by a massive waterfall nestled in the greenery.

  “Pull over!” Damien said it so loudly I jumped.

  “This, my fri
ends,” he said proudly. “is the Cascatinha waterfall.”

  We got out of the SUV and stood near a small stone wall, admiring the cascading water of the falls surrounded by such thick greenery that the air itself seem to have a greenish, otherworldly light.

  The air around us was filled with the drone of unfamiliar, exotic insects. The buzz crested and fell as insects swarmed by us unseen. In the distance, I heard a noise that sent a chill down my back. It sounded like the creature from the movie Predator—and that it was heading our way.

  “Howler monkey.” Damien said.

  “Holy shit.”

  “Right?” He looked pleased. “That’s why we got up so early and stopped here. They only howl first thing in the morning when they wake from the tree they slept in.”

  The loud clattering of a bird seemed impotent after the Howler monkey sounds. I looked at Damien again.

  “Magpie jay.”

  I nodded as if I knew that already.

  We all climbed back into the SUVs, and continued up the mountain on a winding forest-lined road. I kept watch out the window, hoping to spot a monkey, or at the very least, an exotic looking bird. But what I was most excited about was at the top of the mountain.

  I couldn’t wait to see the iconic statue up close. Ever since I could remember, it was the first thing I thought of when I heard the word “Brazil.” My mother had been a fervent Catholic and had talked about wanting to see the Christ the Redeemer statue.

  She and my father had joked about “adding it to the list” of exciting trips they wanted to take now that their children were grown and on our own.

  But she’d been murdered before that. All their plans were shattered when bullets from a psycho’s gun took them away from me. But I’d see it for her. I’d drink in the view she’d so often dreamed about.

  I was interrupted from my memories by Damien exclaiming loudly. “We must celebrate!” He leaned over and picked up a small ice chest from the floor near his feet. Laughing as the SUV bumped down the road, he popped the Champagne and managed to make four mimosas without spilling a drop. He handed Sydney hers first.