Seven (2 page)

I went on a diet, worked out like a mad woman, dyed my hair and got green colored contacts to hide the old, brown irises. All in the name of retribution. There is no one left that I love who can get hurt if my plot of revenge, on all seven of them, goes wrong. They ruined me. Ruined my body. Ruined my mind. Ruined my life. Now it’s my turn to take from them all that they took from me . . . and more.

Straightening my shoulders, I walk back toward my desk only to hear the phone alerting me to a new call. I rush over in my three-inch, red heels, sitting down to answer.

“Strickland Consulting. Embyr, speaking. How may I assist you?”

Embyr.

Yes, I changed my name, too. No more Annie from Arlington Heights. That doormat is long gone.

“Embyr, this is Roxie from check in. I thought I should warn you that the police are on their way up.” Her frantic voice comes through the receiver.

I smirk.

This is it.

“Thank you, Rox,” I say calmly, placing the phone in its cradle. I cross one leg over the other, fixing my skirt that has ridden up my thigh. I glance at the elevators, patiently waiting for the end of Patrick’s career.

I take pleasure in thinking about him bent over in the shower, taking it in the ass from another inmate. For all the times he screwed me over in high school, I don’t feel a shred of remorse over what I’ve done to him.

The ding of the elevators, arriving at the twenty-third floor, causes me to sit up straight. Four police officers come barreling out, one by one, bypassing me completely, and barging into his office. I hear a small scuffle, and then Patrick yells, “What the fuck is this?”

“Patrick Strickland?” one of the men in uniform asks.

A moment later I hear another officer’s voice, “You’re under arrest for theft and misappropriation of funds.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he roars, angrier than I’ve ever heard him before.

I stifle a chuckle, but quickly stand to my feet, my eyebrows scrunching in fake concern and confusion when they pull a handcuffed Patrick out of his office. “What’s going on?” I ask, my hand going over my heart like the good, little, worried secretary I must play.

Patrick’s face is red with anger and laced with terror.

He looks scared.

So was I, fucker. I was scared every fucking day in high school, wondering what would happen with me next. Well, now it’s his turn.

“Call my lawyer, Embyr. Call him now!” he yells as they drag him into the elevator. His tone would scare anyone, but not me. I’m made of fucking steel, thanks to him and his cronies.

I reach for the phone, hitting speed dial number three, and give his lawyer all the information that I have . . .or supposedly have, and hang up. I glance at the clock on the bottom of my computer screen, noting it’s just after four o’clock, and start to gather the few belongings of mine into my bag. I figure he won’t mind if I leave a little early. I’m never coming back here again anyways.

I set up the answering service for the weekend, (not that I believe Patrick will be back on Monday) and walk with confidence to the elevator, hitting the down button. The doors open and I step in, turning around to take one final look at the office I’ve spent the past six months at.

Fuck this place.

I reach the ground floor, ignoring Roxie’s rapid fire questions, and quickly push my way through the revolving doors, letting the cool fall breeze wash over me. I fill my lungs with fresh air and allow it to soothe me. A sense of accomplishment washes over me. The tension I’ve carried in my body, for the past ten years, releasing just a little bit.

Fucking him over was like a drug. I needed more, and I knew where to get it.

One PITCREW member down. Six to go.

Patrick

Ian

Thad

Casen

Reece

Evan

Wesley

I’m feeling euphoric as I enter Jedi’s Bar, after leaving Strickland Consulting for the last time. No more lousy sex with grotesque looking bosses. I’m sure the police will call me in for questioning but, right now, my focus is on the start of my new mission, and the one particular patron who frequents this establishment will hold. Since my time with Patrick is up, I can give my full attention to the next task. Jedi’s is not only the greatest bar Chicago has to offer but it’s also where my next PITCREW hit list member comes religiously, and the one who I will take most of my time with.

The place is packed by the time I arrive. Almost every seat is taken except for two lonely stools conveniently located next to each other around the u-shaped bar. I zero in on my destination, hoping no one snatches them up before I do, and adjust my way-too-fucking-short skirt. I navigate through drunken businessmen who attempt to halt my progress and flirt with me. I wave them off and finally make it just in time to claim the seats.

Laying my black clutch and cell phone on the bar, I look around the expansive space for him. Usually my body can feel his presence, but not now; he hasn’t arrived yet. I tilt my head back to take in the surroundings. I come here often, but the atmosphere intrigues me every time. The bar lies within an old warehouse building, giving it that factory feel. The ceiling is raised three stories, and it has all different sized pipes lining the walls. Even with the large space, it’s still noisy, between the people enjoying a drink after work and the music. “What can I get you, sweetheart?” Damien, the bartender, yells over the noise, earning my attention.

I smile, reaching into my clutch, and hand over my credit card. “Captain and Coke, please.”

Damien is smoking hot: medium length blond hair that is pulled back into a ponytail and blue eyes as clear as the ocean. From the stretching of his work shirt, you can clearly see he is definitely well-toned. If I wasn’t here on a mission, I might take him up on his countless offers of fucking me senseless.
Lord knows I could use a good dick-induced orgasm.

Biting my lip, I enjoy the view more than I should. I admire his muscular ass as he bends down to retrieve the Captain Morgan. The stool next to me is pulled out, and I don’t have to look to know who it is. “Are you eye banging Damien, again?” Trinity asks, putting her almost identical clutch down on the bar. I laugh as Damien returns with my drink and a Corona for Trinity. “Damien.” She smiles in greeting, lifting her bottle towards him before taking a sip.

“Trin.” He smirks back and lightly slaps the bar top. “I’ll keep the tab open for, you two, but that round is on me.”

“I’d love to be on him,” Trinity comments, lifting an eyebrow. I shake my head at her. She looks around for a moment, points at a vacant table, and tells me she would rather sit in a comfortable booth. I follow closely behind her, absorbing more of the surroundings, while shamelessly looking for
him
. When we are settled at the table, Trinity goes quiet. Unusual for her, and I watch as she nervously starts to pick at her fingernails. That’s odd.

“What’s up?” I prod, trying to get her to ask what she wants to ask. Trinity isn’t a shy girl. She isn’t one to hold back when she has something to say, but sometimes her discomfort, over what she needs to talk about, makes her look like a sixteen-year-old about to tell her parents she is pregnant.

I watch her blue eyes look up at me before she runs her fingers through her short, black hair. “I, ah, heard what happened with Patrick today. Are you ok?”

I inwardly laugh. That can’t be why she is nervous. I cross one leg over the other, adjusting my skirt. “I’m perfectly fine. He was an asshole; he will get what he deserves.”

She shakes her head as if in disbelief. “I just can’t believe he was doing that and didn’t think he would get caught.”

“Well, karma is a bitch,” I respond. She lifts her beer bottle toward me in agreement, and I clink it with my glass.

To be honest, I don’t think he would have ever been caught doing the small amounts he was doing. The clients he was taking money from would never have noticed. They spend money some of them earned illegally to begin with, and never bother to balance any sort of check book. They were stupid to trust their money with an outsider and not check in on him. I just helped make it more evident. A few hundred here and there wouldn’t be noticeable but tens of thousands would, and it didn’t take long. From the time I found the account Patrick was trying to hide, to his arrest today, was only a few short months.

“So,” I stare at her, giving the look that she knows I’m being serious. “What is all the fidgeting really about?”

Her shoulders slump and she falls into the back of the booth. “It’s Jade.”

Ah, Jade. Her sister. The one who can’t fucking stop having babies. Six kids with three fathers. With just the mention of her name, I know I’m not going to like it. I’ve only met her a few times, and I tried to feel sorry for her, but you can’t have unprotected sex all the time and think you won’t get pregnant. None of the father’s are involved in their kids’ lives, but Trinity tells me that at least two of them give her some sort of financial support. Jade also can’t find work. By the time she would pay a sitter for all of the kids, she would owe more than she earned. It’s quite a mess.

“What about her?”

She sighs. I can tell she is just as thrilled with the news that she is about to tell me as I am. “She needs help, and has asked me to move in with her.”

My heart dips a little, and I try to control the emotions that are taking over. Trinity is my roommate but she is also the closest real friend I have ever had. In high school, after junior year, no one wanted to be associated with the girl that had the PITCREW on their radar. I was deemed untouchable, unapproachable, and off limits. Even my best friend, since fourth grade, abandoned me. I don’t blame her. Hell, even I didn’t want to be around me most of the time. High school kids can be cruel, in more ways than one.

Trinity and I met at the gym, right after I moved to Chicago. We instantly connected over a protein smoothie, and started working out together all the time. When she got a job at an art studio, she left her parents house and moved in with me. I didn’t need a roommate. I didn’t need help with the rent, but I did feel like I needed a friend. She doesn’t know much about my past. She knows not to ask, but I do know that, if she went to my high school, she would have stayed by my side. I’m one hundred percent confident that Trinity would never have let all that shit go on without doing something about it. So, I must know that I won’t lose her friendship even if she is moving out. “Losing a job and a best friend in one day? Wow,” I half-heartedly joke.

“Em.” She frowns, reaching over to grab my hand. Our fingers interlace, and I’m instantly comforted.

A laugh escapes between my lips. “Trinity, I’m just kidding,” I tell her, squeezing her fingers. “Family comes first.”

“Thank you. It means a lot that you understand.” She waves towards Damien across the room who nods. “Next round is on me.”

I smile but, suddenly, I feel the hairs on my neck stand up. My body zings with electricity, and I know. My body knows. My mind knows.

He’s here.

My eyes flash to the entrance, watching as the heavy, red door swings shut and several females seem to zone in on a man who commands attention. Casen Parker, fourth member of the PITCREW, and the hottest of them all, walks in, surrounded by his usual entourage of co-workers. I fidget in my seat, anticipation running deep within me. That man gives off the vibe as though he can tear a woman’s body in two like no other. His looks alone have the power to make any woman come on the spot. His black hair, short in the back and swooped over on the top, is long enough to roll your fingers though and grab onto. His eyes are a burning combination of green with a hint of blue. He takes great care of his body, going to the gym six days a week. His six pack abs and ass to die for prove it. His strong jaw holds perfect white teeth and dimples that you could take shots out of.

How do I know all of this? Because I’ve been watching him. I’ve seen him here for weeks, but it was well before that when I spotted him at my gym. It had been an odd nightly workout for me and apparently, for him, as well, since I haven’t seen him there since. He just so happened to take his shirt off as he walked into the locker room, and I got a glimpse of his upper body. From what I can tell, he hasn’t changed all that much. He seems nice to everyone around him, and if it wasn’t for his association with the crew, I’d almost feel bad for what I’m going to do to him.