Revenge (Book 1, the Redemption Series)

Chapter 2

Jake fought to regain his balance. "You're an asshole!"

"Seriously, what the hell are you doing here?" Bobby Andollini asked again.

"Nothing." Jake got free of his friend's grip. "Just working through some stuff."

"Oh, yeah. How is that going?"

"Not great."

Bobby nodded. "I wouldn't think so. Come on. Let's go."

Jake adjusted his collar. "How did you find me?"

"Umm— lucky guess." Bobby shrugged. "When my spare bedroom was empty, I figured that you'd came here."

Was he that predictable? If Bobby could find him, he must be. "I was fine."

"Hey, it's times like this we need to stick together."

Exhaling, Jake said, "You're right."

"Of course, I'm right. Speaking of . . . we should check on Mary and the kids. I bet they could use the company. The day after a funeral is always the loneliest."

"Don't you have to work?"

"Nah, I'll call into the garage and tell them that I'm taking another day off."

Jake nodded and followed Bobby out of the cemetery to the parking lot. "Do you think they'll want company?"

Bobby slung an arm over Jake's shoulder. "We're not company. We're family."

They got into their cars, and Jake tailed Bobby to Tom and Mary's house. The upscale subdivision had been just a cornfield when they were kids, but it had now become yet another suburb of Detroit. Parking on the street, they made their way up to the house, but Jake stopped short of the front door.

"Can I have a minute?" He went to the porch railing and rested his palms on the painted wood surface.

Pulling at his shirt collar, Bobby made room for one of his extra chins. "Take your time."

The big man came to stand next to Jake, leaning against the handrail. It groaned under the strain. The size mismatch between the two men was almost comical. Bobby outweighed him by a hundred pounds, not that Jake was a small man. Jake and Tom had met Bobby on their high school football team, along with their other friend Rick. Rick had been the hotshot quarterback with a rocket for an arm, and Bobby was the gentle giant who protected his blindside. Jake had been the tough running back who pounded defenders like a battering ram, and Tom was the wily receiver who could always get open. Together, they'd won a league championship.

"Should we call Rick?" Jake asked.

Bobby scratched the dark stubble on his cheek. "I doubt he can get off work."

"What? It's his landscaping business. You were able to call off," Jake said, selfishly wanting all his friends together.

Perspiration beaded on Bobby's olive-skinned forehead. "I have good people, and Rick already lost two days with the funeral. The grass doesn't stop growing."

Jake sighed loudly. "I guess."

"Forget him," Bobby said. "Speaking of, I forgot to ask you, did you talk to the detective?"

Jake had visited the police station yesterday before the funeral. The conversation with Detective Noles had bothered Jake. The man's investigative experience was not impressive, yet he'd discouraged Jake from assisting in any way.

Jake pushed off the railing and paced along the long porch. "Detective Noles still believes it's a random act of road rage. He wasn't very forthcoming with details, even when I told him I'd been in law enforcement."

"That's some bullshit."

"I know." Jake paused, looking around the empty yard. "I don't like him. He's fat and lazy."

"Hey!" Bobby exclaimed, hiking up his pants.

"No offense. You're not lazy."

"I get it, jerk. I'm fat while you stayed in shape," Bobby sniffed. "Brooding little Jake can still get any girl he wants."

"That's where you're wrong. I've been single for years."

Bobby shrugged. "Because that witch of an ex-wife crushed your spirit."

Jake didn't take the bait. "I'm concerned that Noles will screw up Tom's case."

"How?"

"He's worked one homicide. A murder-suicide where a husband killed his cheating wife. A trained monkey could've solved that case."

"Really?" Bobby shifted his weight. The back of his blue work shirt pulled free of his pants and flapped in the spring breeze.

"Really."

"So what are you going to do?"

Jake rubbed the back of his neck. "What do you mean?"

"Come on, you know what I mean . . . "

"Yeah." Jake bit his lip. "I was thinking I'd poke around."

"You should." Bobby smiled. "Heck, you were the guy who caught the Silkworm Rapist"

Jake's insides twisted at the mention of that terrible case. Shaking his head, he turned back to the yard. Jake had always been jealous of this dream home, a beautiful two-story house with its welcoming wrap-around country porch. The payments on the acre-sized lot must be steep; he hoped Tom had good life insurance. Otherwise, Mary and the kids would have to rent a crappy apartment similar to Jake's to make ends meet. Mary deserved better than that. Jake's brow furrowed at that dark thought.

Bobby rested a hand on Jake's shoulder. "What are you thinking about, buddy?"

"Nothing."

"Tell me."

Jake looked down at his feet. "I was thinking about Pulp Fiction."

"Great movie." Bobby stepped away. "I got it on DVD. We can watch it tonight."

"Maybe," Jake agreed. "But I was thinking, if I could get my hands on Tom's killer before the police, he'd wish he was never born. I'd get medieval on his ass."

Bobby cracked his scarred knuckles. They were the strong hands of an experienced mechanic. "I'm down for that. We could get a couple of wrenches and a blow torch from my garage."

"Perfect. We'll— "

Someone touched the back of Jake's arm. He leaped a foot in the air.

Cursing under his breath, he turned to find Mary standing behind him. Jake hadn't heard the screen door open. Traces of mascara streaked her pale cheeks. The strain of the last few days was evident by the deep lines in her beautiful face.

Mary arched an eyebrow. "Whatare you talking about? I heard something about a wrench and a blow torch."