Vengeance Ch. 02

The next morning Cameron woke up, bright and early. Arming himself with his gun and a small toolkit, he traveled out to his former boss's house in the suburbs. He got there and found the same flimsy lock on the front door that had been there the year before, when he had invited all of the employees to a get-together at his house. His boss had locked everyone out at one point during the evening, but he had been able to pop the lock relatively easily with a flat-tip screwdriver. He had suggested a heavier lock; he would now pay for not listening to his advice.

He opened the lock and was greeted with a chain lock. Who uses these anymore, he thought to himself, cutting through the weak metal with a pair of sturdy pliers. He drew his weapon and made his way slowly and silently up the stairs. The house was deathly silent; perhaps his boss was still asleep and he could catch him unawares. He made his way to the master bedroom and slowly opened the door. Taking one final resolute breath, he swung the door open and aimed the pistol at the pillows on the bed.

He caught himself before squeezing the trigger. The bed was empty.

He poked around the room, and felt an aura of sadness wash over him. He knew his boss was married, but this didn't exactly look like a room full of wedded bliss. He set his pistol on a dresser near the door and took a better look around. There were some pictures of a woman, the same woman with some kids, and some with other adults, but none of his boss. He was beginning to wonder if he was in the wrong house when a voice broke his concentration. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

He whirled around and pulled the trigger of the gun he imagined himself still holding. Only then did he realize it was in the hand of a woman standing in the doorway. She held the barrel in her palm with the grip facing up.

"Who the fuck are you?" he asked angrily.

"This is my house, you are an uninvited guest at best and an intruder at worst, and I'm holding a gun. I think I'll ask the questions for now. Sit down."

"Go to hell," he spat, prompting her to adjust her grip on the gun so it was aimed directly at him.

"I'll send you there first. Sit down." She repeated her command with gusto; he sensed that she would blow his head off and not shed a tear. He sat down on a chair in the corner, and she sat on the edge of the bed nearest him. The gun she placed in the dresser, taking it out of the equation for the time being.

"Now let me ask you, who the fuck are you?" she asked with more than a hint of annoyance.

"Dent. Cameron Dent," he said, trying to control both his rage and his nervousness. He hadn't come here to talk to anyone; he had come to put a bullet in a traitor's skull and leave.

"Cameron Dent, why does that name sound so familiar... oh yes, you used to work for my ex-husband... a real tragedy, your situation. That explains a great deal by itself."

"Like what?"

"Like why you're in my house, uninvited no less, with a loaded gun." Her icy yet amicable demeanor rattled Cameron. "My name is Giovanna, but you can call me Vonni."

"I see... well listen, Giovanna, as much as I'd like to sit here and chat, I don't have time to."

"Oh really... And what agenda do you have that is so pressing on your first day out of prison?"

"Kill your husband."

"Ex-husband, and when you find him, shoot him once for me will you?"

"I'll find him, and you're going to help me."

"Me? The divorce papers were return addressed to a P.O. box here in town. He sold the store, gave me 60% of the profits in exchange for a ticket out of my life."

"So you don't know where he is?"

"I have no earthly idea."

"I see..." He got up and retrieved the gun from where Giovanna had stashed it. He chambered a round and aimed the gun at her forehead. "I think you're bullshitting me."

Giovanna did not move, flinch or so much as blink. "And you think that holding that gun to my head will conjure up some suppressed memory of where he might be? Believe me when I say I would love to see him dead. I would love to tell you where he is, follow you to him, and then walk in the room a split second before you pull the trigger. I would love my betrayal to be the last thought in his dying mind."

She crossed her legs without moving her head. "At least, that's what I might have said when everything first went down. But since then, I've kind of... mellowed out, gotten over it. Now, all I can do it attempt to put my life back together, and I suggest you do the same."

She leaned forward, putting the weight of her head against the mouth of the gun. "But if you insist on following a path of violence..."

Cam was now confused; was she really *asking* him to shoot her? "I don't want to kill you," he said through clenched teeth.

"Then don't. Just put the gun down." What the fuck is wrong with this woman, he asked himself. Here she was with a gun to her head and had absolutely no fear of him pulling the trigger.

After a few tense moments, he pulled the gun down and cleared it. She smiled at him and gave him a kiss on the forehead as she walked over to her dresser. He sat with his head down for a few minutes in silence as she brushed and combed her hair. "So what do I do now?" he asked out loud more to himself than her.

"Do you have a place to live?" she asked.

"No. I got evicted from my place when I was locked up."

"Transportation?"

"Yes."

"A job?"

"No."

"Hmm... then I tell you what. When Ronnie left, he left this house in a general state of disrepair, and I simply haven't gotten around to calling the proper people to fix things. You help me get my house in order, and I'll help you get back on your feet. Agreed?"

"Sounds too simple... what's the catch?"

"Well, other than you living by my rules, there really is no catch."

"And what are your rules?"

"No drinking or smoking in my house, and no bringing any women over; this is not a hotel or frat house."

"Huh... that really does sound simple. All right, you've got a deal."

"Excellent." She let her bathrobe drop, revealing total nudity underneath. Cam's dick nearly tore through his jeans, growing much more quickly than he was prepared for. She had caramel brown skin, and a nearly flawless hourglass figure. She had a pleasing ass from what he could see; not very big, but very well shaped. Even in the mirror he couldn't see much of her breasts because of the angle she was standing at, which may have been a driving factor in his decision to stand up. She must have seen him and read his mind, because no sooner did he have both feet on the floor than she said, "Don't even think about it."

"Think about what?" he asked, trying to play dumb.

"I saw the way you were looking at me," she responded as she dug a bra out of one drawer and its matching panty from another. She turned around to face him, showing him everything he hadn't been able to see in the mirror. Her tits defied gravity, two symmetrical globes hovering in mid-air taunting him with nickel-sized nipples. Looking blatantly down her flat stomach, he caught a glimpse of her completely hairless snatch before she imprisoned it behind blue lace. "Can I ask you something?" she asked, spying the immense bulge in his pants.

"You just did," he answered as he sat back down.

"How long has it been?"

"Seven months."

"Oh, don't *even* think about it."

After she was fully dressed, Giovanna proceeded to give Cameron a tour of the house, pointing out things she needed fixed or modified. It was a good long list, but mostly short jobs; it would take between three and six weeks to complete. "And you said I could live here while I'm doing all of this?"

"Until you find a real job and can get back to paying your own bills, sure."

"All right, I guess you've got yourself a handyman."

"Great. And your first job," she said as she pointed at the lock Cameron had cut, "is to put a decent lock on that door." She smiled at him for the first time, causing his dick to rise yet again. It was all he could do not to just rip her clothes off and rape her, it had been *that* long. She was tall, about 6'0" he guessed, but nowhere near his match in strength so a fight was out of the question, but he struggled to remind himself that he was not a criminal, regardless of the year's events. He had been rightfully exonerated, and he thought back to the sacrifice Lynette had made for him. Surely she would not wish to see her gift wasted by him ending up right back in jail. With her memory in mind, he vowed then and there to purge himself of his vengeful wrath.