Yearn (Revenge Book 4) Read online

  YEARN

  Revenge, Number Four

  Trevion Burns

  YEARN

  Copyright 2017 © by Trevion Burns

  Edited by: Bare Naked Words

  Website: www.trevionburns.com

  Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/bAz7oj

  All rights reserved. The reproduction, transmission or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without written permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales, is entirely coincidental.

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  https://www.facebook.com/AuthorTrevionBurns

  Email:

  [email protected]

  Mailing List:

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  Also by Trevion:

  The Revenge Series:

  Quiver: Number One

  Tingle: Number Two

  Purr: Number Three

  Yearn: Number Four

  Stereo Hearts Series:

  Stereo

  Encore

  The Romanovsky Brother’s Series:

  Taming Val

  Claiming Roman

  Loving Leo

  Finding Gary

  The Almeida Brother’s Trilogy:

  Lila's Thunder

  Thunder Rolls

  Lightning Strikes

  Stand Alone Novels:

  Dead or Alive

  This book contains content matter that may be challenging for some readers, including

  graphic sexual violence. Reader discretion is strongly advised.

  To Kai

  1

  “I’ve broken into a lot of houses in my time, V. I can do this on my own.” Hope Dickerson’s heavily lined hazel eyes fell to her friend’s flat stomach, the night breeze blowing her brown hair across her face as she lifted an eyebrow. “You’re in no condition to be breaking and entering.”

  “Please don’t remind me,” Veda grumbled. “Mommy and baby’s first break-in. I’m off to a roaring start on this beautiful journey called motherhood.”

  “Like I said, you don’t need to be here. Too much stress.”

  “We’re so far passed ‘stressed’ it’s almost incomprehensible. And yes, I do need to be here. You might’ve killed him, but you didn’t know him. I can’t risk you overlooking something that might tip off the police. Any evidence that can be used against us needs to be found and destroyed tonight.”

  Hope shrugged with a heavy sigh. The crash of the ocean waves behind them filled the air, permeating the starry night sky with the scent of salt and seaweed. A plump moon sat high in the sky, booming just enough light to illuminate the deep green leaves of the bushes the two women were crouched behind. A subtle tremble moved along both their bodies under their black clothes, and the constant, uneasy narrowing of their eyes never ceased.

  The jagged black cliffs Shadow Rock Island had been named for flirted with the moonlight as well, lining the inky sands of the beach for miles around. The ebony rocks were just subtle enough to nearly vanish against the dark sky, but just dominating enough to be bone-chilling in their presence. Like an iceberg in the middle of the ocean at the dead of night, its haunting presence eerily silent, but its power completely undeniable.

  The residential road before them went just as quiet. Every family car parked for the night. Every neighborhood light extinguished. Not a single window glowed. Not a single dog barked.

  Hope and Veda had been crouched behind a line of bushes in the park across the street for almost ten minutes. Not a single car had gone by. Not a single light had flickered. Only the soft howl of the wind and the roll of the waves kept them company.

  “If you insist.” Hope gave in. “I’m sure your Mother of the Year Award is being FedEx-ed right now.”

  “Eat a dick,” Veda said.

  Hope smirked, and they shared a look. Holding each other’s eyes, they both drew in a deep breath before yanking down the black ski masks that had been resting atop their foreheads. Their faces vanished from sight, leaving only their eyes and mouths visible.

  With a determined pucker of their lips—Veda’s a tad fuller than Hope’s—followed by a quick nod of their heads, they leaped up from behind the bushes and raced across the peaceful street, moving toward the humble blue beach house that beckoned them.

  Like most homes built on the edge of the water, the house sat on ten-foot stilts to protect it from flooding and rising tides, forcing them to clear a staircase to get to the front door. Every pound of their feet on the stairs sounded like an explosion to Veda, making her heartbeat quicken. By the time they made it to the cherry-red front door, she was sucking in each breath through bared teeth. Her eyes were wide as saucers under her mask, dashing all over the empty neighborhood, searching for the curious eyes of a neighbor who’d been woken, the bark of a dog that could hear for miles, or the unexpected purr of a lone car engine.

  Silence.

  But the silence didn’t ease her.

  “Faster?” she begged, shooting her gaze toward Hope.

  “Cutting balls out, no problem, but this makes you nervous?” Hope teased, producing a paper clip from the bosom of her black tank top and uncurling it.

  “How is your hand so steady right now?” Veda whispered.

  Hope didn’t answer, nostrils flaring as she produced a key ring from her pocket.

  The jingling of the key’s made Veda’s fists clench. “You are making so much noise.”

  “Please stop talking. I can’t concentrate.” Hope’s nostrils spread wider with each heaving breath, betraying her subtle nerves as well. She guided the paper clip into the lock and followed it up with her own house key.

  “How long have you known how to do this?” Veda asked as Hope wiggled and jiggled the paper clip.

  “Since middle school.”

  Veda shook her head. “You think you know a person…”

  “Not exactly in a position to be sanctimonious, V,” Hope sang, just as the click of the lock rang into the air.

  In the next second, the door was open.

  Hope bounded inside the house, and Veda was right on her heels, easing the creaky door shut behind her.

  ——

  “Laptop, tablet, cell phone—anything with a screen, including the TV. And we should go ahead and take the DVR too, just in case. Check every drawer for memory cards and USBs.” Veda pointed all over the living room, relieved when Hope did as she asked and did it fast. From the other side of the house, which was built like a studio apartment, Veda fell to her knees and looked under the full-sized bed. She came back up with a Canon Rebel camera. Shoving it into the large duffle bag on top of the bed, she cursed when she saw the bag was almost full. “How many cameras can one person have?”

  Across the house, a single wisp of moonlight sneaking through the front window serving as their only illumination, Hope’s duffle bag was nearly full as well from where it sat atop the dining room table. After perusing the dining area, Hope raced into the kitchen, ripping open every drawer and cabinet.

  “Close every drawer you open and fix any item that shifts.” Veda’s eyes were dashing all over the immaculate house. “He wasn’t just a minimalist, but a neat-freak minimalist. I’m getting OCD vibes. His family will probably notice if something isn’t where it belongs.”

  “As if they’re not going to notice all of his electronics—including his five million cameras—are mi
ssing? Besides, what’s the point of all this anyway?” Hope asked, moving to the office in the corner of the room and ripping every plug from the wall. She carried a laptop computer back to her duffle bag and dumped it inside. “It’s not like his body will ever be found.”

  Veda stared down at her duffle bag, clenching her gloved hands, causing the black leather to squeak as she got lost in her head.

  Immobilized by her thoughts, she placed a trembling hand over her belly. “A baby mama. An intruder. An accomplice to murder. A castrator…” She sighed. “And you aren’t even a fetus yet…”

  Hope paused in the midst of filling her bag, tilting her head from across the room. “I told you I could do this on my own. Look at you. Already getting all emotional and shit.”

  “I’m going to be someone’s mom.” Veda dry heaved, lips pursed. She dug her fingers into her—still flat—stomach, frowning softly. “This poor kid. Holy shit.”

  “Can we wax philosophical about your poor life choices some other time, V?” Hope tapped her gloved finger against the watch that wasn’t on her wrist.

  Still frozen in place, Veda’s eyes dashed back and forth, fighting to keep up with the thoughts in her head. Then, her wide eyes flew to Hope. “We have to go back.”

  Hope stopped packing and met Veda’s eyes. “No. We don’t.”

  “I’m about to be some kid’s mom. I can’t go to prison. We have to go back and make sure his body is truly gone.”

  “We can never go back. Do you understand me?”

  “I have a really…” Veda sucked in a breath. “Really bad feeling, Hope.”

  Hope leaned on the dining table, pasting the tips of her gloved fingers to the glass. “Do you really want to be that idiot suspect on Forensic Files, years from now, who was stupid enough to return to the scene of the crime?”

  Veda’s eyes went wide.

  “Do you really want to be that idiot, Veda?”

  Veda paused and then shook her head.

  Hope’s voice lowered, and she spoke slowly, like a self-help guru. “Jax Murphy is dead.”

  Slamming her eyes closed, Veda nodded, nostrils flared as she huffed through pursed lips.

  “He’s dead.” Hope’s voice softened, eased by Veda’s surrender. She tapped her pointer finger on the glass. “He’s gone. We took his ID. We threw him into the fastest flowing river in all of Shadow Rock. We watched the turbulent waters carry him away. We watched him sink to the bottom. If he hasn’t already been pulled out to sea, then—at the very least—the raging rapids have already trapped him under the water where he’ll eventually be devoured by sea-life.”

  Eyes still closed, Veda nodded again, her breathing normalizing.

  “Jax. Murphy. Is. Long. Gone,” Hope said. “They will never find him.”

  2

  “Adult Caucasian male. No ID. Teeth still intact. Dental records should give us a positive ID. Been here at least 24 hours. Found by a couple during their morning jog.”

  Detective Lincoln Hill nodded as the forensics technician fired off the facts, pressing his full lips together as his troubled green eyes drank in the dead man bobbing in the water before him. Several feet away, amid the dense forest, the Mackenzie River—Shadow Rock’s deadliest body of water—raged on. The roll of its powerful waves rose and crashed, so ferociously, it caused a thick mist to lift into the air, making every breath Linc took feel muggy and scarce. His long brown hair, pulled into a low bun, was already sopping wet from the fog. His white t-shirt was following suit, making the lines of his muscled arms more pronounced as the damp fabric grew sheer and clung to his biceps. He tugged at the neckline of his t-shirt as it became more difficult to breathe by the moment, planting his boots on the jagged black rocks when the fear of somehow being sucked into that riptide nearly ate him alive.

  Linc’s eyes danced over the man’s ghostly skin, nearly transparent under the rays of the rising sun, deathly pale now that blood was no longer pumping through his veins. His black clothing had been ripped to shreds during his long journey down the raging rapids. A pointy rock had stabbed a hole through the tattered leg of his jeans, the only thing that had stopped the current from carrying his body out to sea.

  Linc’s voice rose so he could be heard over the near deafening crash of the river. “Dead before he hit the water?”

  Martin Zhang, lead forensics technician for Shadow Rock PD, looked up from where he was bent down next to the dewy rocks, holding onto a scrawny tree growing on the edge of the water to keep from tumbling in and being carried away.

  Martin’s slightly upturned eyes narrowed at Linc. “No blood flow from any of the severed vessels. Post mortem on impact. No question about it.”

  Linc spread his jean-clad legs wider, sighing as his partner, Samantha Gellar, came up next to him. She wore her usual jeans, button down shirt, and clunky boots. She crossed her slim arms, her long brown hair wafting with the morning breeze even though it was also damp from the mist.

  Dozens more investigators perused the heavily forested area around them, searching for any clues that might alert them to who the man in the water was. The precinct’s lead photographer, a man who may as well have been a ghost, bent, craned, and angled his body over the slippery rocks, quiet as a mouse as he moved around Linc, Sam, and Martin with a camera glued to his face. The only audible evidence of his presence was the shutter of his camera as he photographed the body.

  They all cringed down at the victim’s marred face. His skin had been ripped away from its connective tissue, making him completely unidentifiable, the bloody tissue just a few layers shy of his skull.

  Linc tore his eyes away, pretending to be drinking in the scenery and not throwing up in his mouth. There was nothing more embarrassing for a cop than vomiting at the scene. Not to mention the risk it had of destroying potential evidence.

  He saw Samantha watching him from the corner of her eye, amused at his disgust.

  “What do we know?” Sam asked Martin.

  Clutching a long pair of tweezers in his gloved hand, Martin motioned to the man’s skull. “Given the skin ruptures and the secondary head injuries, this guy fell from at least a hundred feet up.”

  Linc stomach curled into a knot, but he managed to tighten his abs before it became a full on heave, pressing his lips together with a nod, eyebrows clenching.

  Sam pointed up the river. “But the Mackenzie Bridge is thirty feet high, max. Nowhere near high enough to do this kind of damage.”

  Linc crossed his arms. “Because he didn’t fall from the bridge.”

  Martin pointed his tweezers at Linc to signal he was correct. “Dead long before he got here, and judging from the injuries scattered all over his head and body, whatever cliff he fell—or was thrown—from, well… he hit every rock on the way down.”

  “Somebody tossed him?” Sam asked.

  “The markings on his arms don’t indicate a jumper. His nails are torn down to the wick, suggesting he was surprised by the fall and fought for his life.”

  “And whoever pushed him panicked and relocated his body to the only river in Shadow Rock guaranteed to carry him out to sea,” Linc finished, already having put the pieces together.

  “But how could a fall from a cliff do that to his face?” Sam frowned.

  Martin shook his head. “The facial injuries didn’t occur until after he was thrown in the river. The skin would have been ripped away from his skull gradually, more and more as the current threw him against the rocks. Honestly, he got off easy. There shouldn’t be an inch of skin left on his entire body after a fall from a cliff and a ride on the raging rapids.”

  “You’re liking the cliffs for this, Zhang?”

  Linc, Sam, and Martin all moved their eyes to the new voice. To Lieutenant Chavez, who’d just been returned to duty after an extended leave of absence due to an internal affairs investigation. She stood a few feet back in her signature black pants suit, pressed within an inch of its life—always flawless—with her arms crossed. Her jet-black hair
had been pulled into a high bun, but the mist made her slick hair curl at the edges. Water droplets clung to her brown skin and the tip of her wide nose. Her slightly lined face betrayed her middle age, even more so when she frowned at the victim with a nod. “A cliff? You sure?”

  “Think so, Lieutenant.” Martin shifted, as he always did in her presence. Turning back to the body, he recited the same findings to Chavez as he just had to Linc and Sam, lifting the victim’s lifeless hand with his tweezers. He shot Chavez a look over his shoulder. “Black sand under what little of his nail bed remains, and also in his mouth. Only one beach on this island with black sand. Best guess? He was thrown from a cliff at Blackwater Shore, eastbound, and went down scraping. Then they tossed the body in the river hoping the current would carry him away.”

  Lieutenant Chavez turned away, apparently having heard enough, screaming orders to the officers scattered higher on the forest hill. “Get me a team at the Blackwater cliffs, now!”

  Linc clapped Sam on the back before turning on his heel and chasing after Lieutenant Chavez, who was stumbling her way up the forest hill in her high-heeled boots. She’d been a suit for over ten years. Getting back to nature clearly wasn’t her scene.

  Linc pressed the badge hanging from his neck against his chest as he came up behind her. “Lieutenant? Can I have a word with you?”

  Chavez paused halfway up the hill before turning to Linc. She gave him a professional smile. “Of course, Detective.”

  Linc took a deep breath, his heart already beating faster. “Just wanted to let you know that…” His head fell, and he took a moment, then peeked back up at her. “That I’m close to completing my 64th credit.”

  “How close?”

  “One more semester, Lieutenant. Just in time for the end of my probation period.”

  “One of your numerous probation periods, detective. How many have there been so far?”