Blood for Blood: The Fishmonger's Wrath

I gripped a cold steel crowbar, hunkered down in the shadows outside the billionaire's sprawling estate.

Just this morning, the billionaire pulled a few strings and slapped a city padlock on my fish stand down at the harbor. My only livelihood. Gone.

All because his kid, Spencer, publicly humiliated my nephew, Rowan, at school. When I demanded an apology, Charles didn't just refuse. He rubbed my nose in it.

Sitting up there in his ivory tower, he figured he could just crush a lowly fishmonger like a bug on his pristine driveway. He didn't know the first thing about me.

My old man, Chester, taught me a different set of rules growing up. We settle the score the oldfashioned way. An eye for an eye. Blood for blood.

Chapter 1 When my sister called, I was prying open a fresh crate of frozen Gulf shrimp. Her voice shook through the receiver. "Cade, can you head over to Rowan's school?

He… he…" "Slow down. The sky isn't falling." I stabbed my box cutter into the wooden prep table and wiped my nose with the back of my hand. "Rowan got bullied.

They… they pulled his pants down in front of everyone." A sharp intake of breath. "The school wants us there, but his dad and I are down in Oregon picking up inventory.

We can't make it back until the day after tomorrow." I let the line go dead quiet for two seconds. "What room?" "Oakridge Middle. Eighth grade, homeroom three.

The teacher's name is Barbara." "Got it. I'll be there this afternoon." I ended the call and shoved the rest of the shrimp into the walkin freezer.

I locked the heavy metal door and headed to the utility sink, scrubbing Dawn dish soap into my knuckles over and over. The water ran icecold.

The fishy reek had settled deep into my nail beds. It never really washed off. My name is Cade. Thirtyfour years old. I run a stall down at the city's biggest seafood market.

Never cared much for school. I make my living off a strong back and a decent head for numbers. My nephew, Rowan, is my sister's only kid. He's softspoken. Takes after her.

He doesn't take after me. And he definitely doesn't take after Chester—the old man who taught me how to actually survive in this world.

Oakridge Middle is a toptier prep school, just a few miles up from the harbor. I threw on a clean canvas work jacket and fired up my beatup Chevy cargo van.

I parked out front, ignoring the security guard eyeing my rusted bumper like a health hazard. Barbara's office sat at the dead end of the thirdfloor hallway. The door hung open.

The room was already packed. A middleaged woman with thick glasses sat behind the desk—Barbara. Next to her slouched a kid in a designer tracksuit.

He kept his spine straight, chin tilted up. Beside him sat a woman with flawless makeup, a highend leather bag resting on her lap.

I didn't know the brand, but I knew money when I saw it. I stepped through the frame. Every set of eyes locked onto me.

Barbara pushed her glasses up her nose. "You're Rowan's uncle?" I nodded. She gestured to an empty plastic chair across from her. "Have a seat." I pulled the chair out and sat.

The office smelled like cheap floral air freshener masking stale chalk dust. The fluorescent tube lights overhead buzzed. It grated on my nerves.

Barbara cleared her throat. "Here's the situation.

Right before first period today, Spencer and Rowan were just playing around." "Things got a little out of hand, and Rowan took a tumble.

I've already reprimanded Spencer, and he understands what he did was wrong." "I called you all here so we could exchange apologies, clear the air, and get the boys back to their studies." While she talked, Spencer stared out the window.

A faint, arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. His mother—Audrey, the woman with the flawless makeup—chimed right in. "Exactly. You know how boys are.

Just messing around with no filter." "We'll be sure to give Spencer a talkingto when we get home." I didn't say a word.

I just kept my eyes fixed on Barbara. "I want to see the security footage." Barbara froze. Her eyes darted to my worn jacket. "Well… Cade, like I said, it was just a joke.

Pulling up the footage seems a little…" "Barbara," I cut her off. "My sister left her kid in my care.

That makes him my responsibility." "I'm going to watch the tape so I know exactly what kind of joke we're talking about." I kept my voice dead level. It wasn't a request.

Chapter 2 Barbara and the woman exchanged a glance. Reluctantly, Barbara clicked her mouse and woke up the monitor on her desk. "We only have cameras in the hallway," she said.

The security footage played out like a silent movie. But every movement was crystal clear. The bell must have just rung. The corridor was dead empty.

My nephew, Rowan, jogged into frame from the far end, his heavy backpack bouncing against his shoulders. Spencer slipped out from behind a classroom door like a ghost.

He shadowed Rowan, his footsteps silent. A twisted, buzzing thrill plastered across his face. The next second, he lunged. His hands clamped onto Rowan's waistband. He yanked hard.

His uniform pants and underwear were yanked down to his knees in one violent motion. Rowan was midstride. With his legs suddenly bound, his momentum snapped.

He tipped forward like a felled tree, slamming onto the linoleum. Face first.

On the screen, I watched him scramble on the floor, his hands thrashing as he desperately tried to pull his pants back up. Heads spilled out from the classroom doorway.

First a few, then a dozen, then twenty. Even without audio, the deafening roar of laughter echoed in my skull. Spencer stood right behind him.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, admiring his own masterpiece. Rowan finally hitched his pants up.

He scrambled to his feet and bolted down the opposite end of the hallway, his shoulders heaving. He vanished offscreen without looking back.

I stared at Spencer's smirking face frozen on the monitor. The air in the room flatlined. "Like we said, just a prank." Audrey broke the silence. Her tone scraped with impatience.

Barbara scrambled to click out of the video player. "See? Just harmless boys being boys. Spencer is an exceptional student.

Top five in the class, top ten in his grade." "I'm sure there was no malicious intent." She nudged a paper cup of water across her desk toward the kid. I didn't look at the teacher.

I didn't look at the mother. My eyes stayed locked on Spencer. The kid finally stopped staring out the window. He met my gaze. Not a flinch. Not a drop of guilt.

Just a cold, entitled appraisal, practically daring me. "What are you going to do about it?" "Where's my nephew?" I asked. "In the counselor's office next door," Barbara said. "He's… a bit worked up." I pushed my chair back and walked out.

The counselor's door sat cracked open. Rowan was curled into a tight ball on the corner sofa.

He had his face buried in his knees, his narrow shoulders jerking with every ragged breath. I crossed the room and sat down beside him. I clapped a hand onto his back.

He lifted his head. His eyelids were swollen thick, his face stained red with tears and raw humiliation. "Cade…" His voice cracked.

A fresh wave of sobs hit his chest. "It's done," I said. I dug a crumpled pack of tissues from my pocket, pulled one out, and handed it over.

He snatched it and scrubbed blindly at his face. "I can't go back out there." His throat sounded like sandpaper. "Why?" "Everyone's laughing at me.

No matter where I walk, I can feel them staring." I rested my hand on the top of his head. I ruffled his hair.

It was soft, just like mine used to be before the docks toughened me up. "Rowan.

Look at me." He dragged his tearstreaked face up. "Do you want to make sure they never dare laugh at you again?" He blinked.

Then, he gave a hard, desperate nod. "Good." I dropped my hand. "Wait right here. I'll be back." I stood up and headed straight back to the office.

Chapter 3 When I stepped back inside, the tension in the room had evaporated. Audrey and Barbara were already trading pleasantries about AP classes and Ivy League early admissions.

Spencer slouched in his chair, his thumb swiping hard across his screen, a deep scowl carving into his face.

The chatter died the second my boots hit the linoleum. "Well?" Barbara asked. "Has the boy calmed down?" I nodded and dropped back into the plastic chair. "Let's hear the fix." Barbara seemed relieved by my bluntness.

She cleared her throat, slipping right into her authoritative, caseclosed administrator voice. "Here is what we'll do. Spencer will apologize to you and Rowan right now.

We put this behind us, and the boys go back to being peers." She shot Spencer a pointed look. Spencer sighed, shoved his phone into his pocket, and stood up. "My bad," he said.

His voice was as flat as a blown tire. "I was just messing around." His mother jumped right in. "Our apologies, Cade.

So sorry for the hassle." "My bad." Not "I am sorry." Not once did those three words cross their lips.

The entitled set of their jaws made it clear—they figured throwing me this scrap was doing me a massive favor. The office went dead quiet.

My pulse drummed a heavy, rhythmic beat behind my ears. I didn't say a word. I walked over to the water cooler, filled a flimsy paper cup, and downed it in one pull.

The icecold water hit my stomach, barely dulling the sharp burn crawling up my throat. I crushed the cup in my fist and banked it into the trash can.

I turned around and locked eyes with the teacher. "Barbara. You asking if we're good?" "Yes." "We're not." Barbara's face hardened.

Audrey's perfectly arched brows snapped together, twisting her expensive makeup into an ugly scowl. "Excuse me?" Audrey snapped. "We apologized.

What more do you want?" I let out a short, dry laugh. "You call that an apology?" "What exactly is your endgame here?" Barbara's tone went from diplomatic to hostile. "You expect me to suspend him over a little horseplay?

Put a black mark on his permanent record?" "Spencer is an honors student. He's on the fast track." "I don't expect a damn thing from you." I shifted my gaze to Spencer.

I kept my voice low. Lethal. "It's simple. You get two options." "Option one. You stand up in front of the entire class.

You look my nephew in the eye, and you say, 'I am sorry." "I messed up. I will never touch you again.'" "Option two." I paused.

I watched the smugness drain right out of both their faces. "You like pulling down pants?

Great." "Right here, right now, in this office—or out in that hallway where Rowan hit the floor. You drop your own pants. You stand there for eight seconds.

I won't take a single second more than I'm owed." On that tape, it took ten seconds for my nephew to get stripped, hit the deck, and drag his pants back up.

Eight seconds was me being generous. It was the only fair trade on the table. Chapter 4 Audrey's elegant mask shattered.

She pointed a manicured finger at me. "Are you out of your mind? Who do you think you are?" "You're a thug! A lowlife!" Spencer's face flushed a deep crimson.

The veins in his neck corded. "You're a fucking psycho!" Barbara slapped her hand flat against her desk. "Cade! Watch your mouth!

This is a school environment." I let their noise bounce off me. I kept my eyes on the teacher. "Barbara, I'll ask you one last time.

Is the school going to handle this?" "We will absolutely not support this kind of barbaric resolution." "Fine." I caught the gleam of an Audi key fob poking out of Audrey's open designer bag.

I gave a single nod and pulled out my phone. "If the school won't fix it, I'll fix it my way." I dialed a number. It was Zeke, the head of security down at the fish market.

He was an exArmy Ranger who made his living at the same docks I did. "Zeke. Run a plate for me. White Audi Q5, license plate BAXXXX.

I need it yesterday." I rattled off the numbers from a car I'd spotted in the lot downstairs.

It was parked right next to a Mercedes in a spot marked "Reserved for Principal." The Audi had claimed the secondbest spot on the asphalt, sporting an Oakridge Middle parent pass on the dash.

When I walked past it earlier, I had brushed my hand against the hood. The metal was still radiating heat. It was definitely hers. The air in the office flatlined.

Audrey's face went ashen. Her fingers curled instinctively, strangling the leather straps of her bag.

Barbara's eyes darted frantically behind her thick glasses. "What… what are you doing? I'm warning you, this is extortion!

It's illegal!" "I haven't done a thing." I pocketed my phone and met her stare. "Just laying the groundwork for my next step." I shifted my focus to Spencer. "Kid, I learned a hard truth a long time ago.

When somebody puts their hands on you, you go to the teachers. You go to the adults." "But if they don't step up, or if they rig the game against you?

You handle it yourself." "How do you do that?

You make the guy who hit you realize that doing it again comes with a price tag he can't afford to pay." "Once he feels that fear in his gut, he'll never look your way again.

Today, I'm giving you—and my nephew—a free lesson." I stood up and turned for the door.

My fingers just brushed the metal handle when a trembling voice broke the silence behind me. "Wait