Copyright © 2014 M.S. Brannon. All rights reserved.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying without written permission from the author. The exception would be in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews or pages where permission is specifically granted by the author.
This book is a work of fiction and the events surrounding this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any similarity to actual events, locations, organizations, or persons live or dead, is entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
First Ebook Edition June 2014
Published by M.S. Brannon
Photo Credit: Dreamstime
Cover Design: Robin Ludwig Designs Inc
Editing: C&D Editing
Formatting: IndieVention
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10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
I don’t wanna live, to waste another day
Underneath a shadow of mistakes I made
Cause I feel like I’m breaking inside
I don’t wanna fall and say I lost it all
Cause maybe there’s a part of me that hit the wall
Leaving pieces of me behind
And I feel like I’m breaking inside
~ Breaking Inside, by Shinedown
Table of Contents
Part One: The Underworld
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Part Two: Aftermath
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty One
Chapter Twenty Two
Chapter Twenty Three
Chapter Twenty Four
Chapter Twenty Five
Chapter Twenty Six
Chapter Twenty Seven
Chapter Twenty Eight
Redeemed Love Playlist
Acknowledgements
About the Author
Find M.S. Brannon
More from M.S. Brannon
“Are you ready, man?” Ronnie looks over at me.
This is it; the moment in time where you are standing at a crossroads, and the decisions that lay before you will forever change the course of your life. I am in that moment.
As we sit in the driveway of a known drug house, I know the choice I’m about to make will alter everything from this moment forward. My only hope is it will alter it for the positive. My intentions are good, selfless even, but I don’t have a crystal ball, so I can’t see what kind of future this choice will bring. If I were playing the odds, they’d be stacked against me, yet I don’t see any other option. I need to help get my family out, and to get out fast, this is the only way.
I stare out the windshield, thinking about what got me to this point in my life. What was the driving force for me to make such a drastic life choice?
And then I see her—Darcie. I’ve been replaying her attempted rape over and over in my mind. Battling with my demons, I know this is the only choice I have. Whenever I close my eyes, I see her broken and bloodied body, the scarlet red liquid seeping from her and painting the white snow. I will always have to live with the fact I wasn’t fast enough to save her. I couldn’t get to her, and now Darcie has survived one more spineless douche bag hurting her.
Over the course of the last eight months, this is all I’ve been thinking about. Since graduation from high school, my mind has been made up, so here I am.
I beat the shit out of Grady, thinking that would ease the anger I have toward myself, but I soon realized I had to be as low as him to get out. However, the difference between Grady and me is that we need the money for two very different reasons—Grady’s money is for material use while mine is for my family’s freedom.
The only option is right here in my face, in the shape of an old, rundown house. A house with chipping white paint, broken screens, falling shutters, and dying grass; it screams crack house with a single, solitary glance. And I’m here, parked in Ronnie’s beat up Chevy, facing my impending future. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. Ronnie knows this, and he knows my hesitation, yet the feeling in my gut is telling me to do it; to go against everything Reggie’s preached to us since we were kids. I need to rescue my family. It’s up to me to get them out of Sulfur Heights. It’s up to me to protect them from the horrors of this place. Racing was putting some money in my pocket, but it’s not the kind of cash I need to uproot all of us.
I’m not sure how I will convince Reggie to move, considering the bar, but I have a couple of years to think about it. According to Ronnie, I can easily make a grand in a week if we hit up the right people and sell the right kind of stuff.
When I look back over at Ronnie, my mind is made up. It’s not what I want to do; it’s what I have to do. I turn to glance out of my window one more time as the flash of Darcie climbing out of the car door, falling into the snow, comes to the forefront of my mind as it always does. If I had been doing my job as a big brother, she never would have been with Grady in the first place.
Even the sight of Presley’s encounter with Robert Stein plays in my mind. Although I didn’t really know Presley all that well when she was taken by Robert, over the last several months, she has become part of our family. She is an innocent, frail soul who was tortured by her own flesh and blood. I can feel the anger boil greater. This makes my decision even more justified.
This will be my burden to bear, but not my family’s because we’re getting out of this place. Anger at seeing those girls in my mind sends my emotions raging and my gut twisting into knots. This is the only way I can save them.
I connect my eyes with Ronnie’s and nod my head.
“When we go in there, the men we will be dealing with are upstairs.” Ronnie reaches in the backseat of his car and grabs his black baseball hat. “It isn’t the type of situation you see on TV. These guys aren’t dressed in suits or gang banger clothing; they are just everyday fuckers, but they won’t hesitate to kill you if you steal their shit. Or if you don’t deliver.” Ronnie runs his hands through is blonde hair before putting on his cap, pulling it down, practically covering his eyes. He only dons his hat when he’s dealing. I’m not sure if it’s a disguise or a uniform, nonetheless it’s always on his head.
We open our car doors and slam them shut simultaneously. The gravel crunches under my boots as we travel up the long driveway. There are several cars parked in the street and in the drive. The old, rusted chain-link fence clinks as a large gust of early summer wind connects with it. I feel like I’m walking into a house of hell, similar to what you’d see in an old horror flick.
As we get to the back of the house, the sounds of loud music start filtering from the door as Ronnie pulls it open. The well-known lyrics of Buckcherry’s “Lit Up” connect with my ears, and I can’t help thinking the song is wildly appropriate for the situation.
Ronnie turns back to me before we walk fully into the house. “Just stick beside me and don’t say anything. I will do the talking.” I nod my head and follow Ronni
e into the house.
When we walk into the living room, ten or so people are sitting around, laughing and partaking in the drugs haphazardly tossed on the coffee table. Pills are scattered all over along with powder, needles, and a bag of weed. It’s a buffet of drugs at your disposal. The sight is very familiar to me because this is how my coffee table at home looked before my mother passed away.
A cloud of rich, earthy smoke floats through the air, and I look to my right. I identify the source of the gurgling sounds as I watch a girl taking a hit from the bong. When she lifts her head and takes her mouth from the glass that’s when I see her. I don’t know who she is or where she’s from, but at the last few races, I’ve seen her walking around. The look she gives me when our eyes connect draws me in, but not out of attraction, out of something else.
I want to talk to her, I want to know what her story is, but for some reason, I can’t muster up the courage. Although we are twins, Jake and I have very different personalities. He is loud and outspoken at times—well, most times—while I choose to speak only when I truly have something to say. With her, I don’t know what words would come out, though. She baffles me and stuns me all at once.
I’m standing frozen in the middle of the room, looking at this Hispanic beauty, forgetting why I’m here to begin with. Her glazed, liquid chocolate eyes meet with mine, begging me, but what are they asking for? She’s pleading with me to do something, to help her perhaps, however it’s hard to know exactly what to do.
I start to move toward her, wanting to pull her up off the couch and take her with me. Her eyes are beseeching me, but she doesn’t move. That’s when I get a look at the man sitting next to her. His palm is possessively clenched on her thigh; the knuckles in his hand are white. I get a good look at this asshole and recognize him instantly.
Zane Bradshaw, a local douche bag who enjoys exerting his dominance on anyone and everyone who’s weaker than him. I’ve seen him beat on drunks at the races because he knows he has the advantage. Zane likes to bully because he’s a pussy. Only pussies beat on women and prey on the little guys.
Zane leans over and whispers something in the girl’s ear while she keeps her eyes affixed to mine, and I refuse to break my stare. I don’t know what he’s saying, but it’s apparent the conversation is not going his way. She wants me to save her.
My fists clench at my sides then Zane turns and our glares meet. He knows me. The reputation of the Evans brothers is infamous. Zane knows what I’m capable of. He was there when I beat the hell out of Grady McGuire as well as countless other fights I’ve gotten in as a backup to Jake.
My feet begin to move toward the couch when Ronnie intervenes, his face inches from mine. “Don’t. Not here, man. The man you are about to meet is her uncle. Anyone who even messes with her will be beat to shit. Obviously, Zane has a death wish.”
I finally connect my gaze with Ronnie and know he’s right. If her uncle is the kingpin of the Sulfur Heights underworld, then she has plenty of protection.
I break my gaze from Ronnie and take one last look at her eyes. They are still pleading with me, and I can’t shake the familiarity of them, but I need to get my mind somewhere else. I’m about to join this drug organization, so women should be my last thought. I shake my looming thoughts and follow him around the corner then up the stairs.
I’m second guessing not beating the shit out of Zane, then again, is it really worth it? Like Ronnie said moments ago, he must have a death wish. Zane has always been a cocky asshole. I wouldn’t put it past him to feel like he’s special, that he has special privileges to the drug lord’s niece.
Her eyes begin to haunt me and help me as Ronnie and I trudge up the wooden stairs. Her eyes haunt me because I will see them again, either lost in the world of hard drugs, or they will be lifeless. Yet, they help me because it’s girls like her I want to aide.
I don’t know her story, however the feeling in my gut is telling me I will encounter her eyes again. Not in a good way, either. In turn, they help me take the necessary steps toward the future to get my family free from Sulfur Heights. I don’t want to see those pleading, helpless eyes in Darcie or Presley. I want to protect them, which is the very reason for why I’m here.
When we reach the top of the stairs, Ronnie releases a deep breath of air then twists the metal knob. When the door creaks open, we make our way in to see three men sitting around a folding table, counting endless amounts of money and bundling it into neatly folded wads then setting them in a specific pile. Ronnie was right when he said these are regular looking guys. There’s nothing special about any of them.
One man is older, maybe in his mid to late forties. He is heavier around the middle with thinning black hair and a scruffy face. The other two men are considerably younger, closer to my age. They are large, muscular men with military type haircuts. The one with brown hair has a deep scar tracing down his cheek from his left eye. He glances up at Ronnie then at me and gives us a smirk. His front tooth is partially broken, and his jaw is covered in more than a day’s worth of stubble. I get yet another suspicion in my gut that this man will be someone I encounter in my future. The eerie feeling is impossible to ignore, and it’s in this moment I want to bail. Thousands of reasons start to surface as to why this is a bad idea, but it’s too late. I can’t walk out of here unless I’m committing to this thing. I’ve fucked myself any way you look at it.
Darcie. Darcie. Darcie. I start reciting the mantra in my mind, knowing she is the reason why I’m here. There are five people I need to save, and this is the only way I can get us out of here—get us out of Sulfur Heights.
The third man, who’s just as large as scar face, with a spider tattooed across his neck, stands from the table and pulls a nine millimeter from the back of his pants then slams it down on the table. “Is anyone going to bother searching him?” He points to me.
“I’ll do it.” A man I didn’t even see comes from the shadows of the room. He, too, is wearing a black baseball cap and stands as tall as I do. He drops his black backpack on the ground then stands close to me. His gold eyes are disturbing, and the eerie feeling has returned. “Turn around and put your hands on the table,” he commands.
I turn on my heels and place my sweaty palms on the vinyl table top. The guy’s hands then run along my sides, sweeping across my torso and down each of my legs. “Turn around,” he demands again, and when I do, we are looking at each other eye to eye. The feeling in my gut drops and alarms ring in my head. This man doesn’t sit well with me. “Lift up your shirt.”
“Why?” I ask as I stand up and meet him in the eye.
There’s a sound of a chair scraping against the floor, and when I turn so see what’s happening, the older man stands, yanking a revolver from his waistband.“Don’t ask why unless you’re looking to get your ass shot, son.”
The cold steel is pressed against my head, digging into my temple. He begins to click the hammer back, cocking the gun, then puts it back in place. Back and forth, the hammer goes in and out of kill mode as the clicking sound obliterates my tough façade. The air leaves my chest as the eighteen years of life I’ve lived flashes before my eyes. The unforgiving steel is pressing into the side of my head, and I know he won’t hesitate to kill me. Ronnie said it before, and nothing is truer in this moment. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? I question as I try to keep myself composed enough to stand.
“They want to know if you’re wearing a wire,” Ronnie whispers from behind me.
When I pull up my shirt, exposing my stomach, the man lowers the gun and motions with the revolver to turn around. Without hesitation this time, I spin, showing them my back.
“Good, now that it’s done, let’s get down to business.” The older man ushers me to an old couch pushed against the wall, resting his gun on his lap, while the other two men sitting at the table go back to counting the cash. The guy who searched me moves back to the shadows, blending into the dark wall. “We are looking for another street dealer. This,”
he tosses a black backpack at my feet, the signature black baseball cap attached to the strap, “is full of weed. Your test is to have this sold and money to me in five days. If you unload all this on time, you’re in and the initiation phase will begin. If not, well… Let’s just say you won’t like the outcome.”
The man stands from the couch and places his hands on Ronnie’s shoulders in a fatherly type of way. “I’m Matt Ryker. At the table are my brothers, Tank,” he points to the man with the spider tattoo, “and Victor.” Matt motions to scar face, who nods in acknowledgement. “You’ve already been acquainted with Carter. He and Ronnie are our best street soldiers, and if you prove to be as good as they are, I assure you, the payoff will be worth it.” The creepy douche bag, Carter, stares me down for a moment then turns his attention back to his cell phone. “Stay with Ronnie; he’ll show you the ins and outs. I will see you in five days. Make it good, Evans, or it will be your last.”
I stand from the couch, fighting the intensity growing in my gut, when Matt pulls me back in to the conversation. “Evans, one last thing.” He holds up a picture of the girl I recently encountered downstairs—the Hispanic beauty—and my breath momentarily gets trapped in my throat. “This is my niece. If you touch her, you die.” And there it is. The girl is off limits and Ronnie’s warning is warranted that much more as Matt threatens me to stay away from the girl.
As Carter stands from his chair and walks to the door, pulling it open, a small smirk extends across his face. I instantly have to fight with the urge to slam my fist into his teeth. If the situation wasn’t bad enough, now I will have to work closely with this prick. My gut is telling me he’s the last person I want to get involved with, but what the hell am I going to do now? I’ve committed myself to this, now I have to live with that decision.
Ronnie and I trudge back down the stairs. I notice the Hispanic girl is gone as I erase all other thoughts from my head except for unloading a backpack full of weed in the next five days.
Redeemed Love Page 1
