Shame of It All

  Shame of It All

  By

  KT Grant

  Copyright

  Shame of It All Copyright 2020 by KT Grant

  Cover art Copyright 2020 by Insatiable Fantasy Designs

  The reproduction or utilization of this book in any form by mechanical or other means is forbidden by law. Copyright infringement is investigated by the FBI and may result in fines of up to $250,000 or imprisonment.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Smashwords Edition

  Revenge is a dish best served cold. But for Mercy Pryce her revenge will scald one’s soul and leave behind a burnt-out husk if she has her way.

  Mercy has returned to her hometown of Cartleigh, New York after twenty years. The lakeside community is the perfect location for Yakim Zeldovich, her Russian billionaire employer’s state of the art manufacturing facility. Acting as a consultant for Zeldovich, she’s on an undercover mission, not as an angel of mercy, but one of mischief, deceit and torture. Her ultimate goal is to ruin Cartleigh because of a horrible trauma she suffered in high school. The one responsible for her wrath is Colton Hahn, Cartleigh’s beloved mayor, and the object of her retaliation. The town’s golden boy, who she once adored as an impressionable teenager, brutally raped her and left her for dead at seventeen.

  Consumed by years of grief and growing rage, she has targeted Colton, who may also be responsible for the death of her best friend, Marina, his fiancé. She will avenge Marina and finally take down the monster who tried to ruin her life.

  Her success may come at a horrible price. But it will all be worth it if she can take away everything Colton holds dear, including him surrendering his heart and soul to her in the process.

  Dedication

  Some say revenge is both a science and an art. For those seeking revenge, the outcome may end up as far away from science and art as possible. The art I create is the perfect revenge because it will remain long after I am gone. Find something that will immortalize you so those who feel you should be forgotten, will have lost. Because in the end, you would have won, which is the ultimate revenge.

  CHAPTER ONE

  I saw my first blow job the last time I visited a cemetery when I was thirteen. The blow job happened after the funeral—my grandfather’s. While Grandmother welcomed thoughts and prayers from those who attended, I strolled around the grounds, checking the gravestones while I tried mourning Grandfather’s passing. I passed a maintenance shed and noticed a man in a golf cart. His head was tilted back and his mouth wide open. A woman lay over his lap. He held her by her hair, and for some strange reason, her ass jerked in the air like someone fucked her from behind. I froze, shocked by what I watched until the man turned his head in my direction. I ran away, shaken by the scene.

  My memory was like a sponge. I remembered everything, which could also be considered a curse. It was why I had returned to my hometown after twenty years, the same place that caused me such grief because of the people there. Or, rather, I should say one person. The same person was now the mayor, my rapist, and possible murderer of my childhood best friend.

  I had come for vengeance, so sayeth the lord, the same lord or god millions worshiped without question. The biblical phrase had become my mantra even though I found religion a joke. Yet here I was on so-called holy ground, in front of Marina’s grave, despite the humidity and gummy heat that stuck to a person like glue. I was here to fulfill my self-proclaimed promise to make her murderer suffer—her fiancé, and my rapist who stole everything from me a Saturday night in June after high school graduation, when I would have gladly given him what he took from me.

  I was a blast from the past, ready to leave destruction in my wake with an incredible lack of sympathy or concern for the collateral damage that would occur. My name would be taken literally—Mercy Pryce. A price would be paid, but as for mercy, it was buried as deep in the ground as Marina’s corpse. Six years gone, forgotten by most, with the exception of one person—me.

  ###

  The ride from the cemetery to my grandparents’ house where I grew up was ten minutes by car. Cartleigh, NY, was the jewel of the Hudson Valley with a population of thirty thousand and two hours away from Manhattan. Cartleigh was known for two things—their fall festival and Sitala Lake that flowed into the Hudson River. My grandparents’ house was one of many encircling the lake, actually the first house near the entrance to the lakeside. Their house, or I should say mine since Grandmother passed away eight years ago, had been in our family for over one hundred years. I could sell it for five hundred thousand minimum if I chose. But the property was a status symbol. Not that it had been when I was growing up even though it sat directly across the lake from the Hahns’ three-story shingle-style manor. The Hahns owned another house in the middle of the town, but their lake house was a status symbol to the community. It had become the permanent residence for their only son—Colton Hahn the third, the respected mayor of Cartleigh and the subject of my hate and scorn.

  My fingers throbbed from clutching the steering wheel of my compact rental car. It had been some time since I had such a physical reaction to Colt. He was always in the corner of my mind, lurking there to remind me of my lost innocence. I tried to think of him with a critical eye, to remain detached from the current situation. Reminiscing about our history sometimes made me lose a sense of reality.

  I finally got out of the car and inspected my property and childhood home. Calm came over me, a fondness for this house and the energy surrounding it very strong. I assumed I’d feel the same inside because of who had lived there. Pride filled my chest because the house had been well taken care of. The last time I lived here had been two weeks before I left for college. Grandmother carried me away from this place to protect me. Only she knew my secret at the time. After her death six years ago, I finally revealed all to another. Yakim Zeldovch, my best friend and employer was key in giving me the confidence to succeed.

  He was responsible for the upkeep on the property. The cedar siding was freshly stained, a new roof had been installed, and the landscaping of newly planted trees and colorful bushes and flowers was something out of a garden spotlight magazine. A cleaning service had been hired to prepare for my stay. I was here to help with the negotiations on behalf of Alzmeya, who, with Cartleigh, was in the final stages of building their US headquarters that would create thousands of jobs and billions of dollars of revenue to the state. Their international headquarters were in Saint Petersburg, run by the very wealthy Russian, Yevgeny Zeldovich. Yakim, his youngest son, proposed the office here at my suggestion. It had been decided six years ago, coincidentally after Marina’s death and Colt’s winning the mayor’s seat. His father’s blessing on the new headquarters was all part of the plan Yakim helped me orchestrate. Six long years of waiting and scheming had finally come to fruition.

  It was eerily quiet for a warm Saturday afternoon in September. Not one boat on the water or any swimmers. Clouds had formed in the sky, but it was still sunny. There would probably be a late-day thunderstorm. Those were the best kind because they arrived without warning, were powerful, and might leave some damage behind. I had been born during a storm in June, or so Grandmother had told me. The weather had been violent, but my birth had been easy. My mother’s labor had lasted under ten hours. Unfortunately, her death hadn’t been the same.

  I should have settled in after my long trip, but the water called me. I still had a few hours until I checked in with Yakim. We talked every night regardless of where we were in the world. My smile widened and then fell to a straight line. My emotions were fleeting, even when it came to people I thought fondly of. Yakim was always first in that regard, but physical rea
ctions such as smiling, frowning, or laughing were far and few between. I was good at pretending. He made sure I had enough practice for my current mission so I wouldn’t be caught in any lies.

  I toed off my sandals and walked to the end of the short wooden dock. If it had been closer to nightfall, and I was certain there wouldn’t be any witnesses, I would have slipped off my dress, unclipped my newly dyed eight-inch burgundy hair, and taken a dip. But the windows of the Hahn house across the way stopped me. So, I hiked my skirt to my hips and sat then dangled my legs to allow my feet to submerge in comforting liquid.

  A cackling bird broke the silence as the vibration of thunder in the distance became more prominent. I wanted to close my eyes, but the Hahn house made me well aware I wasn’t alone. It may just be a building, and an expensive one, but it felt as if it spied on me. I would play coy, feeding Colt’s ego so he would grant me entrance to his home and perhaps his heart. The heart I would mash to pulp.

  Storm clouds moved closer with flashes of lightning and thunder booming creating a violent symphony. I lay on the wood with my arms spread wide, willing the coming rain to soak me. A drop splashed my forehead, and, for the first time in almost forty-eight hours, I closed my eyes to rest.

  ###

  Colt liked long hair, so I hadn’t cut it in two years. I squeezed out as much water as possible as I unlocked the door to the screened-in porch. My feet were covered in mud and grass from what was more than just an Indian summer thunderstorm. Rain still fell. I would have liked to remain on the dock, but I’d started to shiver and decided to take shelter. I did get naked then because the deciduous trees stopped any peeping, not that I expected any.

  I grabbed a beach towel hanging on a wall, and, after drying off, I wrapped it around my head. I was far from ashamed of my body, and enjoyed wearing as few clothes as possible, but I had never been a fan of wearing my hair loose. But the style I chose was one of the small sacrifices I recently made.

  After locking the door behind me, I went into the kitchen. There had been some updates since I left for college, mainly new appliances, such as a microwave and toaster oven. No coffee maker but a state-of-the-art espresso machine, a gift from Yakim, along with a huge basket filled with fruit, crackers, cheeses, and two bottles of red wine. A generous welcome, but as much as I would have liked him to stay here, he wouldn’t. If he did visit, he’d reserve a posh suite at the most expensive hotel in the area. He embodied a life of luxury and displayed his wealth from the clothes he wore to the food he ate and the company he kept. The basket was an example of his opulence.

  I sat on a bench in front of the island and opened the basket for a pear. While I ate, I read the short note attached. Welcome home. Next to the basket was a white box holding something extra special, but not edible, and would remain on my person whenever I left the house.

  When time on my cell changed to seven o’clock, it rang. Yakim’s number popped up. It was under Y. The only other person I saved as the initial of their first name was Leona, whom I also trusted with my life. I wished she could have been on the call since it was normal for her to be a part of my and Yakim’s relationship. We were a happy little threesome when given the chance.

  “Hello, Yakim.” I took a bite of my pear.

  “Milost,” he responded in Russian, using his pet name for me, which literally meant mercy. I spoke Russian fluently, along with three other languages. For this conversation, we would stick to his native tongue.

  I stopped chewing out of respect for the man I talked to. “I’m sitting in the kitchen naked with only a towel around my head and eating a fifty-dollar Buddha-shaped pear from the lovely gift basket you sent.”

  “How did you come up with the price of the pear?” He sounded authentic with his question, which was always the case with me. With others not so much, but he had excelled at making people believe he cared.

  “A joking estimate based on the price of the basket. Not curious why I’m naked? You would approve if you were here because you always want me to unwind.” I finished the fruit and dabbed the edge of my mouth to erase any juice left behind.

  “Send me a picture.” His voice lowered to a seductive pitch.

  “I was caught outside in the rain. You already have enough pictures of me in states of undress.” Outside the back window, I could see the rain but it was much lighter.

  “No swim in your lake? You must do so this weekend so you’re refreshed for Monday,” he suggested.

  I was tempted to ask him what he was wearing and his location. But it was close to midnight for him, so he was probably drinking a scotch and relaxing on some type of couch in his dress shirt and slacks, maybe barefoot. He might even have company to help him sleep. If not me, he had a second choice.

  “Is Leona with you?” I took one of the bottles of wine, along with a corkscrew and moved to the kitchen table. Grabbing another towel, I set it on the chair and sat, laying my legs on another chair in front of me.

  “She’s with Maksimilian. He needed a date for tonight. She should fare well with him. He’ll make her feel safe,” he said with assurance. When it came to Leona, the only other person he trusted with her care was his older brother.

  Pulling the cork with ease, I drank straight from the bottle. No need to use a glass in the privacy of my own home. “He convinced her to join him? She may see someone from her past who may cause her to have a bad reaction.” Leona’s issues were more damaging and deeper than my own. But she used her internal scarring to her advantage and struck her victims without warning at the instruction of the Zeldovich brothers.

  “She’ll return in one piece. She always does.” He sighed. “I miss you too much already. It will be a difficult separation.”

  Warmth traveled down my chest and to my stomach. He had amazing skill at causing me to have these physical reactions. Because I was in the right frame of mind, with good wine and the fruit I ate, along with the freedom to be naked without a care, I could enjoy how he made me feel. I may even take matters into my own hands later. He would make sure I had all the instruments I needed if the fully stocked kitchen was anything to go by.

  “We’ll have phone and video calls. It won’t just be status updates on the good job I’m doing.” I wasn’t just here on my behalf. I really was here as one of the top legal consultants for Alzmeya’s project.

  “You’ll do an outstanding job. I have total faith in you. Since the day I saw you jogging around the track at college, intent on escaping whatever chased you, I knew you were destined for great things.”

  I drank a large swallow of wine. His accolades always made me feel off-center. “I appreciate the sentiment.” I raised the bottle in his honor, wishing he was here. Since we were eighteen, we hadn’t been separated from one another for more than a few days, a week at most. The distance would test us both.

  “I can always reschedule my plans and come earlier than—”

  “No.” I winced. He would notice my mistake and keep it for later. Then the questions would start, and I would answer them all.

  I waited for him to respond, drinking until most of my wine was gone. I slouched down in my seat, splaying my legs to allow the cool air to sweep between them and tickle my pulsing tissues.

  “Milost, if you need someone you trust to be with you, I can ask Leona to stay with you until you’re settled. It has to be a shock to return home after twenty years and see certain people from your past.” He knew why I returned to confront Colt. Not only would it help me move on, but it would complete my revenge on behalf of Marina.

  “You still see me as a timid and scarred eighteen-year-old from New York? I’ve had twenty years to work on my recovery. I haven’t experienced any flashbacks that made me rock in a corner. I’m not anxious or nervous at being in the same place as Colt. His family’s lake house didn’t invite any horror or frighten me,” I huffed, ruffled at his insinuation I couldn’t handle myself and succeed at the mission we’d agreed upon.

  “It has only been six years since you
lost your Marina. Her memory is still too strong for you.” He paused and then whispered something I didn’t catch, possibly some type of blessing, whichever was the case when he talked of the dead. “She’ll haunt you while you try to make those responsible pay.”

  “There’s only one person she should haunt, and I will make him pay.”

  “Miost, it worries me when you talk this way.” He did the thing with his voice that usually lulled me into relaxation, but not this time. “You can’t say for certain Colton Hahn killed your friend.”

  My hand flexed hard around the bottle, the sudden shooting pain in my wrist welcome. “It’s why I’m here. To find out the true story of Marina’s death and his part in it.”

  “Don’t be surprised if your subconscious plays tricks on you.”

  “You’re starting to sound like your father when he talks about ghosts and goblins.” I took another swig of wine. “I won’t lose myself and start hallucinating and seeing things that aren’t there.” A part of me wouldn’t mind seeing Grandmother again, even if it was a manifestation in my mind. I tugged on my silver teardrop necklace, the one thing I wore morning and night. It had her ashes inside the pendant so she was with me always.

  “I always listen to Father. You should. He gives great advice.” Yakim worshipped his father in a way I couldn’t understand. But maybe I had trouble understanding because I never knew my father, and the only male figure comparable to him, my grandfather, was someone who didn’t leave a lasting impression like Grandmother.

  “Your father is always fascinating to talk to whenever we see him in Moscow or Saint Petersburg.” Yakim allowed me to be critical toward others and let me question him more times than I could count. But he would never accept anything negative about his family, especially his father, who could crush me if he so chose. It was a good thing Yev adored me.