Redheaded Redemption (Redheads Book 2)

by Rebecca Royce

  I did as he asked, closing it behind me. “Rough day?”

  “Only the last two minutes, and it’s better now. It pisses me off because I gave him a chance because his father asked me to hire him. We served together a million years ago. It’s his stepson. Doesn’t matter. Point is, I did it. And if I hadn’t gone out to look at what he was doing because Anna was on her break, he’d have served that mess to a customer.”

  I sat down in the chair across from him. “I don’t know anything about managing people, but maybe he’s not ready. Is there something else he could do for you?”

  “He gets it done or he doesn’t work here.” He shook his head. “Still want to see me tonight, or did I just become a monster?”

  I leaned forward. “Still want to see you. No monsters here.”

  He nodded, once. “Great, because it would really bum me out if you cancelled while you’re looking so incredibly beautiful.”

  I looked down at myself. Jeans. White blouse. Black jacket. Plain, black shoes. There was something magical about the fact that he always seemed to think I looked beautiful, even when I’d done almost nothing at all.

  “Thanks, Chef.”

  His smile was huge. “Sexy when you say it.”

  Truly magical.

  Chapter 13

  I hadn’t known I could like having sex against a wall or on the floor. Or…well, hell, anywhere. I liked having sex everywhere with Max. It might become an addiction, and I wasn’t in the mood to stop it.

  We lay staring up at the ceiling together in his bed. I breathed hard and so did he, but when he flipped onto his side to look at me, he seemed calm. “So…I have a problem.”

  I lifted an eyebrow. “No, you don’t. You seem to just get better and better.”

  His smile was huge. “Good one. And thank you, but seriously—a problem. See, Anna is going to be very busy because of Eric. For weeks. She’s on leave—paid, of course. Anyway, I have to fire Lance, and this woman I don’t think you’ve met named Cassie. Anyway, point being, I have to fire them, and it’s the worst time to be down employees, because without Anna, I’m going to be even busier.”

  I rolled toward him. “So what you’re saying is you can’t see me anymore.”

  I spoke the words and hoped the horror that speaking them caused in me didn’t show on my face. I was the queen at hiding emotions. Surely I could do it again.

  He was ending things while I was in his bed.

  “I don’t want to not see you. I’m hoping I still can, but I’m going to be wrecked. I know how much I rely on Anna, but I’m really feeling the fact that she won’t be there for an extended period of time acutely right now.” He cleared his throat. “She’s going to get her mom to come next week, and I hope that she can return to work then, but we really don’t know how he’s going to do, so we can’t count on that just yet.”

  I nodded, rolling over to reach for my clothes. I would have my meltdown in the car. I could hold on for that long. Somehow, I’d make it that far.

  “Hope?” He grabbed my arm. “Where are you going?”

  I looked over my shoulder. I’d forgotten how chiseled his abs were and how beautiful his face looked when the shadows of his whiskers came in after a day of growth. “Home.”

  “Why?” He didn’t let go of my arm.

  Enough game playing. “Because you just made it clear you wanted me to leave.”

  He blinked. “I didn’t say anything like that. How do you get me wanting you to go from what I just said?”

  “I understand subtext most of the time. You’re busy. You’re moving on. And you really weren’t subtle about wanting me to leave, so why act like you meant something else?”

  Max let go of my arm and sighed loudly. “I don’t play games, Hope. If I wanted you to leave, I’d say go. I’m being one hundred percent up-front with you. If you want to leave, that’s fine, but don’t go because you think I’m talking around a subject. I don’t do that. Who has the time?”

  Did I want to go? No, I didn’t. But I wouldn’t be made a fool of. I’d had enough of that in my life to last a lifetime. “So you aren’t just trying to find a nice way to tell me to go and that you’re done with whatever it is that we’re doing?”

  He shook his head slowly. “You’ll be tired of this before I will.”

  I didn’t find that possibility likely. I couldn’t imagine ever not wanting to lie next to him in the dark. Just the thought of giving up what we’d shared scared the shit out of me. “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m not a relationship guy, and you are absolutely a woman who will want one. Until you realize that, I’m going to be selfish and keep you…at least until you tell me to bug off.”

  He was so confusing. I wasn’t sure I understood what any of that meant at all. “You not being a relationship man means what? You’re doing this with multiple people at the same time as me?”

  So far, we’d been really, really careful. But if he was dicking around with multiple women, I was going to carry a package of condoms on me so I was sure we were never accidentally without. Maybe he had a girl he slept with at lunch every day.

  He shook his head. “I think trying to do this with anyone other than you might just kill me, beautiful. I’m old, remember?” He held up his hand. “That’s a compliment by the way.”

  It was? I was going to have to digest that. “And that tells me nothing at all and doesn’t answer my question.”

  “No, it didn’t. Really, it means that we don’t have future plans. By that, I don’t mean we can’t schedule dinner together. It’s that we aren’t going to be planning buying a house or raising kids. Trust me, I’ve seen that life. It’s not for me. I’m too…fucked up for that. Hope, I might seem like I’ve got it together because I’ve learned to put on a good show, but I am not. Basically, we’re friends. Who do this.” He ran his thumb over my hand, and shivers moved through my body. He only had to gently touch me, and I was always ready to go. He leaned over to kiss where he’d just stroked my hand. “You’re going to get tired of my bullshit eventually. Move on. That’s okay. It’ll be this strange moment in time for both of us. How we met. What happened between us. This interlude. We’ll both remember it, and at some point, wonder how it took place at all.”

  He really had no idea. “Since we’re friends…” I almost choked on the words, but he wasn’t the only one who could fake being normal. Truly, Max had no idea how much we really had in common. “I want to be clear I’m not your booty call.” I might be lying. I’d probably come running if he called. Or maybe not. “We can’t go without speaking for weeks and then just have sex. I don’t think I’m built like that.”

  As I spoke the words, I knew they were true. That was something. It was like I had to learn myself in these moments because I’d never had them before.

  He nodded once. “Not a problem. I’ll be too busy to get together for a bit, but I will make time to communicate. I don’t expect you to fuck and go. That’s not me, either. Oh and, Hope, when you meet someone else, just end it with me. I’ll get it. I don’t want to share, but I’m not ridiculous. Move on from me whenever that happens.”

  Max was being so reasonable about our connection, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to kiss him or slap him. I’d do neither because they were both sort of nuts. Instead, I crawled into the bed next to him. It was enough for tonight. I might not sleep, but the danger with insomnia was not knowing that sometimes I was just plain too tired to continue on with conversations that were complicated and required finesse. I never wanted to regret saying something just because I was exhausted, although I suspected it happened more than I thought it did.

  He shifted so I could snuggle up against him. I’d asked, and he’d answered my question. Now I had to figure out what to do with what he said.

  Tomorrow.

  I didn’t expect to sleep, and this time, I was right.

  I thumbed through the mail on the desk in my office. Junk. Magazine. Junk. Almost no one used snail mail anymore for
anything other than bills. I had one for my cell phone, but it was a double because they emailed me too. Plus, I had it on autopay. Maybe I should call and see if I could go paperless. Yep, I’d put that on the list of things to do. I had lots of time. I was unemployed. No one had called or emailed to ask me to book a party.

  It was official. I was done.

  I should probably get rid of the office. I had no reason to keep it anymore, and it was an expense I didn’t need. I’d do that today. Call the agent in charge, and let her know I wouldn’t be renewing at the end of the year.

  My phone rang, and I grabbed it off the table where I’d set it down. I was doing a great job of not thinking about Max today. The number didn’t ring a bell, but I answered it anyway. If I got one more party to plan, I could live in denial just a little bit longer. As long as they had a charity associated with it, I was good.

  “Hi, this is Hope.”

  There was a pause before the person spoke. “Hope?” The woman’s voice sounded strained. It cracked halfway through my name.

  “Yes? I’m sorry, who is this?”

  “Oh, yes. I never called you directly. Muffy always took care of it. This is Sara, Tim’s nanny.”

  The woman who was always distracted at our lunches. One thing I would say for Muffy, she might have treated Tim like an accessory, but she brought him everywhere. Tons of kids in his position were just left home with the nanny. Then they got sent to the schools I’d attended. Being left home with the nanny had been my destiny. A ton of nannies, actually. We’d moved so much, we had a new one every year or two. Some of them were great, and some of them were… Well, better not to think about that.

  “Hi, Sara. How are you?” I picked up a letter and discarded it into the trash. No, I didn’t want to change my cell phone carrier. Should I be tearing or shredding these things? Could someone steal my identity based on that offer? Did Max like all kinds of whisky? Not that I should be spending money on things I didn’t have to right then, but maybe he’d like a bottle of something? Things were going to be hard. How was the surgery going? And didn’t this woman quit? Was she rehired?

  “Not well.” She sounded like she was crying, and my attention immediately shifted over to her. “You didn’t hear?”

  My body went cold. I didn’t know what she was about to say, but her sobs didn’t bode well. “Didn’t hear what?”

  “It’s on the news.”

  I hadn’t watched the news, nor had I turned on my computer. After getting a million and one notifications on my phone when Layla had been kidnapped, I’d turned off headline news notifications. “What happened?”

  “They’re dead. Muffy. Martin.” Yes, that was her husband’s name. I stuttered on the thought. That wasn’t really very important at the moment, but it was all I could think about right then. Muffy’s husband’s name is Martin. Was, anyway. I could never remember his name, and so I just never thought about it. I was good at that.

  But, oh no. They were dead.

  “They’re dead?” I sank to the floor, my knees suddenly not wanting to hold my weight anymore. How could they be dead? I just saw them. Focus. I had to get a hold of myself.

  “They took Tim.” The nanny sniffed.

  My body went cold as I asked, “How did this happen? What happened?”

  She sniffed. “Tim’s okay. I think. He didn’t die. The people who killed the others have them. There are pictures. They’re online.” Fuck. I really had to get back into things and start paying attention again. How did I miss all of this? “Muffy and Tim liked you so much. I wanted to make sure you had heard.”

  The nanny hung up the phone, and I shivered on the ground where I had sunk. Muffy was dead. Killed. And Tim was alone in that country, taken by men who would do who knew what with him. All of this was my fault. I’d raised money for her, but I hadn’t questioned her about any of it. I never did. Rich people used me, they got publicity and big checks that they didn’t need because they were already rich. Who knew if they actually used those checks to do what they said they were going to do with them? I never followed up at all.

  Muffy booked herself an airplane to go on an adventure so she could be photographed doing good. She died. Her kid was taken. Maybe if I had asked…

  Did Muffy even know where she had been flying?

  I put my head between my knees.

  My phone dinged. Eric’s surgery went great.

  I swallowed. Max had thought to text me.

  I answered him with, Such good news.

  I didn’t text him about Muffy. He had enough on his plate, and he just got great news. I couldn’t bring him down, not after he’d worried so much about the surgery. Besides, he hardly knew these people. I had to think. There had to be something I could do.

  I texted my cousin. I knew them.

  He’d know who I meant. He answered fast. Yes. Such a tragedy.

  I stared at his words before I quickly typed back. What are you going to do to get the kid back? Surely they would. They were the State Department. They didn’t just leave American citizens to rot in countries until they were killed. Wasn’t rescuing them something they did?

  Nothing. Would love to, but we are not in contact with them. No real central government to deal with, and any communication with them would elevate the warlord to levels that we are not prepared for at this time.

  Would they feed him pasta? That was the stupidest thought ever. Of course they weren’t going to feed him pasta, if they fed him at all. I rushed to the bathroom and puked. For ten straight minutes, I puked. Then, when I lifted my head, I grabbed my phone again.

  If a private citizen with no business getting involved wanted to do something, what could that person do?

  My phone rang, and I picked it up despite the unknown number. My cousin spoke without perfunctory greetings. “You’re going to do it anyway, aren’t you, whether I answer you or not.”

  He didn’t phrase it as a question, which was good, because it wasn’t one. I might be nuts, but I did the right thing as much as I could. I wouldn’t leave that little boy there. I even had Muffy’s own money to get things done.

  If there were a way that I could get Tim back, I would get him.

  “Call Michael Li, that man Zeke has taking care of all of you. He isn’t just a man paid to hire bodyguards. If anyone could get in and out of there with that kid, it is Michael Li and the people he’s employed. If he doesn’t help you, I’ll give you other names.”

  My hands shook as I got off the phone. This is insane. I needed to call my therapist. I needed to breathe. I needed to be more like Layla and go for a run. I could shower. Call Bridget in Hong Kong. Have a drink.

  I didn’t do any of those things.

  Instead, I called Michael Li.

  “Hope?” He sounded like he was in the middle of something. There was a lot of noise in the background. “Are you okay?”

  “No.” I spoke low, hoping he could hear me. “I need your help. If you won’t help me, I can find someone who will.” I needed him to understand I was serious. “I’ve heard you’re actually the person to get this done.”

  I didn’t hear background noise anymore. “What the fuck is going on, kid?”

  He probably never called Bridget ‘kid.’ I was pretty sure he was in love with her. I also thought she had all those feelings right back for him, even though she’d never admit it. Those two were not going to confess to each other how they felt. But Layla and me? Yeah…he called us ‘kid.’

  We weren’t children anymore.

  I told him what I needed.

  As I stared at the ten men in the living room, I quickly calculated money. Michael had told me what this was going to cost. The men. The time. The guns. The plane. I had it, thanks to Muffy. She hadn’t known she was giving me the money to bring her child back from a life worse than death in a foreign country, but that was what she had done.

  Because of her complete mismanagement of money.

  I’d spoken to her mother and told her my plans. S
he agreed I should do as I planned with Muffy’s money, even emailed me a signed and notarized document giving me permission to do so as Muffy’s living relative and guardian of the child who was missing.

  I hadn’t thought about needing that, but she had.

  Ten men. Michael looked different than I was used to seeing him. Only when he’d plotted to get Layla back had I seen him so completely focused. With him, he brought a medic, Mitch, and the snipers Jefferson and Clayton. His fighters had other roles, but that’s how I thought of them. I couldn’t quite remember their names yet.

  It was Clayton who looked up from the plans and spoke. “This is a child. He’ll be terrified. That adds an element to this I don’t like.”

  “How do you imagine countering any possible problems that arise from his age? Intel tells us he’s here.” Michael pointed at the document in front of him. “We grab him, and we go.”

  “Ever grabbed a kid, boss?” Jefferson chewed gum thoughtfully. He blew a bubble, then sucked it back into his mouth before continuing. “Not so easy. They’re small and squirmy.”

  Michael sighed. “Are you saying you want out?”

  “No.” Clayton sighed. “I want in, but I think we need to bring someone that the kid knows. Make a huge difference in possible outcomes, I think.”

  All the eyes in the room turned to me. Michael shook his head. “Absolutely not.”

  “If she were anyone else, would you say no?” Mitch questioned. “I know you’ve known them a long time, but she hired us. Maybe she wants to help? We can keep her safe. It’ll make a big difference with the kid.”

  Michael had been born in Hong Kong, but he’d moved to the US when he was three. His father was American, and his mother had been a Chinese citizen until she’d become an American citizen some years ago. That was about all I knew of his background. Right then, he looked less like a serious security officer and more like an absolute warrior.

  “You’re right—I’ve known her since she was sixteen, and I won’t put her life at risk.”