Beyond Redemption (Marked Series Book 2)

by Jesse Lorenzo

  Copyright © 2016 by Jesse Lorenzo

  All rights reserved worldwide

  Cover Copyright © Airicka’s Mystical Creations

  www.AirickaPhoenix.com

  Editing by Kendra’s Editing and Book Services

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  This publication is protected under the US Copyright Act of 1976 and all other applicable international, federal, state, and local laws.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, stored in a database or retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the express written permission of the author.

  Any trademarks, service marks, product names, or named features are assumed the property of their respective owners, and are used only for reference. There is no implied endorsement if we use one of these terms.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  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

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Sneak Peek from Terra Kelly

  To my three beautiful daughters,

  Jazlyn, Veronica, and Marcela:

  Dream big and reach for the stars.

  Mommy loves you.

  A soft summer breeze drifted inside the open second-story window, carrying with it the calming scent of the salty sea air. Gulls cawed their claim on the Harbor as they coasted high above the pier. Ellora sat on her padded window seat, gazing through her sheer curtains as they danced with the wind. They moved with the rhythm of the tide, gently fanning her face.

  She watched the hustle of the townies as they made good work of a clear, beautiful day, loading and docking their fishing boats and gear. As they went about their lives, she imagined that she could do the same… and move on with hers. Ellora rose from her peaceful place when hunger pains growled irritably in her empty stomach.

  The dazed girl aimlessly lumbered around her kitchenette, searching for something to stifle her appetite. Mindlessly gathering an array of random food choices, she placed the items on her tiny table. Reaching into the drawer, she retrieved a knife to spread mustard on her plain sandwich. Ellora held the utensil in her hands, turning it around in her grasp several times. Sunlight that splashed in through her open window bounced off the reflective surface of the sleek metal and cast an iridescent rainbow on her solemn face. A reoccurring nightmare that she was unable to shake flashed behind her eyes, of a monster trying to take her life.

  It had been a few weeks since Ellora was assaulted by the man she feared most in the world. Giddeon still remained in the jailhouse located in the center of town, but Detective Antonelli assured her that he was doing everything he could to transfer him out of Portree and back to the States.

  The terrifying thought of her attacker being housed so close to where she lived, set her nerves on edge. She just didn’t feel safe with him only walking distance away. Just like any other powerful monster, he seemed capable of breaking free from his prison. Ellora lived in a constant state of fear that he could still get to her, that it was only a matter of time before he would.

  This fear had taken control of her life, forcing her to become a prisoner as well. Ellora became incredibly anxious when alone in her self-made fortress, and at the same time, loud noisy crowds made her jumpy and nervous. She couldn’t seem to find solace in any given situation. It was a double-edged sword that left her confined to her second floor safe haven. Her emotional handicap kept her away from Grady’s Pub downstairs on most busy nights, locked away in her room.

  Deep down, she knew her behavior made those who cared about her extremely worried for her mental stability. Everyone except, of course, Behr. He, more than anyone else, understood what she was going through. Behr had witnessed her attack firsthand, and lived through a close call of his own when he fought the devil himself… and won. If she thought of him as overprotective before, that was nothing compared to how he acted now.

  Ellora couldn’t step foot into a room without Behr giving it a swift once-over first. At night, he checked every room, behind every door, and in every nook and cranny. He’d even go as far as checking under her bed to make sure his love would be safe, before kissing her goodnight.

  Once the sun brightened the pier with rich shades of orange that glistened on the water’s surface at sunrise, Behr would wake her with the delicious smell of breakfast. This had become their routine. He’d hardly ever left her side since the attack, and she didn’t mind in the least. Ellora wanted him there, right by her side, while she tried her best to pick up the pieces of her life.

  Like always, Behr understood what she needed and tried his best to give it to her so that they could finally move on with their lives—time, patience, and love. Most importantly, she wanted to be happy… to live a normal life and enjoy every moment of it without any fear. It warmed her heart to think about the future. Each and every glimpse of it had Behr standing right beside her. She had fallen so hard for him over the course of a few months.

  Stuck in the blissful daydreams of the chivalrous man she loved, Ellora hadn’t heard the door to her flat open, or the figure approaching from behind her. When a heavy hand came down on her shoulder, she jumped a good foot off the ground. A strangled shriek scratched her throat as she choked on her scream. Ellora spilled all the food she had laid out while preparing her lunch, scattering the condiments onto the parched wooden floors.

  Strong arms wrapped around her tiny waist in a firm grip. Without a moment’s pause, he spoke. “It’s a’right, love. It’s just me. I came as soon as my tour ’round the Isle was completed. I dinnae mean to startle ya.” Kissing her throbbing temple, helplessness welled up inside him as her trembling frame sagged against him in relief. He wished he could make all of her fears disappear once and for all.

  Behr tightened his arms around the frightened girl, giving her the reassuring support she needed. “I’m sorry, Lor.”

  “It’s okay, Behr. I’m… I’m okay. I just keep forgetting that I gave you a key, and my mind wasn’t present when you walked in. Otherwise, I’m sure I would’ve heard you.”

  The quiet man nodded against her cheek, abrading it with his day old stubble. “I came by to let ya know that I received word that he is leaving tomorrow. That bastard will never come anywhere near ya again.”

  Ellora filled her lungs with a long, deep breath of renewed relief. When she blew it out, the enormous weight that was dragging her down had been removed from her spirit. She’d suffered from the cr
ushing burden of fear and anxiety for so long that she had grown accustomed to the extra baggage she carried around. Now… finally, it had been released, and she felt as weightless as the air she pulled in.

  Turning into Behr’s protective embrace, she weaved her arms around his neck, running her fingers through his thick hair. “That’s the best news I’ve gotten in weeks.” The enormous man struck her with a smile that could have stadiums full of women swooning at the sight.

  “Aye, that’s because no one’s told you of the little incident that happened to me last week.”

  Ellora giggled softly, lifting a curious brow, waiting for him to spill his guts.

  “My pants got caught on a loose divot on the Ferry while I was giving her a good wash, and split right along the rear seam, all the way down. In front of all the world. Gave the whole pier an eyeful of my arse, I did.”

  Behr delighted in the beautiful sound of her whole-hearted laughter as it shook her tiny frame against his chest. He hadn’t heard her laugh in a long while, and that in itself killed him.

  “Oh, I’m really sorry I missed that! Did you at least get any good tips from the tourists for the free show?”

  “Aye. Bought me a new pair o’ pants with it. Good thing I decided to wear underwear that day.”

  Ellora threw her head back and laughed harder, slapping him playfully. “You would’ve gotten better tips, Captain Buchanan, had you forgotten. Lesson learned.”

  “Sit down, my love, and let me prepare your lunch. We can celebrate starting over.”

  Ellora loved the sound of that. After all, she couldn’t live in this tiny room, hidden away, forever. The thought of finally starting her life over, with Behr by her side, was definitely something worth celebrating. Lifting the glass, he had poured for her, she announced, “To starting a new life… together.”

  She couldn’t wait to find out what the future held for them.

  Portree Harbor:

  Municipal Jailhouse

  Giddeon had been dumped into this tiny whole in the wall hours ago. It just so happened to be a typical run of the mill ‘get ‘em talkin’ interrogation room. You’ve seen one, you’ve seen them all. Nine-by-twelve, low drop ceiling with yellow flickering florescent lights, beckoning you into madness as it pulsated harshly inside the cramped space. The longer Giddeon sat, the further his mind succumbed to the excruciating sting of the unforgiving light. A growing migraine sliced through his ability to concentrate, like thousands of glass shards cutting through the sensitive areas of his brain. All this was intentional.

  Giddeon rubbed at his eyes with his iron clad hands, the cuffs only allowing a few inches of leeway as they were attached to the stainless steel table in the center of the room. There were two chairs. His, a small, metal, extremely uncomfortable chair. Its hard surface left him numb from the waist down after hours of sitting in one spot. The legs were all uneven, creating an awkward tilt, and the metal spokes left deep imprints onto his back. The other chair, a luxuriously padded, ergonomic rocker on wheels. Also very intentional. It was all a mental game they loved to play.

  Slate grey tiles lined the floor, and an equally dreary color blandly covered the walls. One steel door was across the room from him and a two-way mirror behind him. Nothing else. The room stayed subzero in temperature, due to the air conditioner blowing at full blast. It left him shivering uncontrollably in his metal chair.

  Giddeon fixated on every minute detail of the ice box of a room. Countless suspects had been present in this same room, sweating out their guilt. That was evident by the smell that lingered in the air. Like an old gym locker room mixed with the unmistakable stench of stale cigarettes.

  Voices and footsteps pulled his idle mind back to the here and now. Detective Antonelli leisurely walked in with a thick accordion folder under one arm, and two steaming Styrofoam cups. One in each hand. He set them down carefully and quietly lowered himself into the chair, rocking methodically… back and forth, testing its comfort. Several tense moments ticked by as the men stared at one another, sizing each other up.

  Giddeon’s eyes narrowed on his target, inspecting his appearance. The detective’s nose was braced, bandaged, and crooked. Dry blood coated the inside of his nostrils, and fresh bruises painted his eyes black and blue. He looked rough. A smile tugged at the prisoner’s lips at the sight of him. The same knowing smirk was mirrored on the detective’s face.

  “Did the big guy get you, too, Detective?” Dominick forced out a painful sounding chuckle as he slid the steaming black coffee in Giddeon’s direction. He silently thanked God for simple pleasures such as this.

  “Hey, at least we can tell people we fought a bear and lived to tell about it, right?” Giddeon nodded, agreeing with him. The man who left both men battered and broken, coincidentally named Behr, was the greatest adversary and the finest fight he’d had in years. As a fighter, he’d gained an enormous respect for the man.

  Behr was Giddeon’s polar opposite. He had courage, love, and a light within him, all things the twisted man didn’t possess but desperately wished he did. One could just look at the large man and see it pouring out as he bravely fought to rescue the woman he loved. Rescue her from Giddeon.

  A manic laugh belted out of him, a delightfully painful jolt ebbing through his damaged jaw. The harsh throbbing coursed through all his extremities, like the powerful sting from a scorpion’s strike. It awakened a dark desire deep inside him. Giddeon laughed harder, and quickly came to the conclusion soon after that his jaw was either seriously cracked or dislocated.

  Along with that injury, he also suffered a swollen-shut left eye, a split wide open cheek, and a skillfully stitched up shoulder. All of which were inflicted by the powerful hands of Behr. The pain that followed had him riding a beautiful never ending high. He had denied any pain medication, and insisted on being stitched up without a numbing agent.

  The throbbing ebbed and pulsed through his badly beaten body. It was a reminder that he was alive… human. Giddeon hadn’t been this badly beaten since… since… No! He wouldn’t let his mind wander there. Not in front of the detective. Shaking his head in order to snap himself out of the dangerous thought that still played around in his head, he looked at the detective.

  Dominick nodded his head in the direction of the cuffed man, taking stock of his numerous injuries. “He almost killed you.”

  Giddeon ignored his truthful statement and addressed his earlier comment about Behr. “Yup, surviving a Behr attack is definitely a good story to be told. What’d you do to piss him off, anyway?” The detective leaned far back in his chair, eyeing him thoughtfully. Giddeon didn’t like that look—the look of pity. His humor and patience slipped away as he glared at him, wishing his hands weren’t cuffed so that he could wipe that look right off his face.

  Dominick snapped out of his thoughts, shook his head, and laughed. He gingerly grasped the bridge of his cracked nose. “I guess he didn’t like the way I was looking at his girl in the pub… kinda like the way you’re not liking the way I’m looking at you. Maybe I’ll use this injury as an excuse to get a new face. You think workers comp will cover facial reconstruction under my insurance?” he joked, lightening up the mounting tension. It died down quickly, and they both laughed at his expense. This fucker was funny.

  “I highly doubt Dalton will give that the green light, since you’re still technically working for him, right?”

  Their laughter awkwardly died down. “I think it’s safe to say that, after this stunt, I’ve quit. And I’m probably fired, anyway.”

  Silence stretched out, leaving the conversation at an uncomfortable stand still. Giddeon’s cuffed hands, attached to the bolted down table, picked at the dried up blood and debris under his ridged nails. “Well…” Giddeon paused, shaking off the calculated pleasantries, and glared at him, unblinking, directly in the eyes.

  The detective’s demeanor changed, as well, turning serious, and he stared right back at the cuffed man, undaunted by his silent threat. “Dalton tur
ned his back on you, didn’t he?”

  Anger burned deep in the pit of the dark man’s stomach. He stiffly nodded… just once. “He did.” The beast stirred within him, looking to exact his revenge. A familiar itch, desperately needing to be scratched, surfaced, making his skin crawl. Like a junkie anticipating his next fix, Giddeon wanted to satisfy his addiction. He needed to hurt someone, and it didn’t matter who.

  Thoughts swirled in his head of all he’d done for Dalton, all the vile things he’d made him do, pulling him deeper and deeper into a soulless void. These thoughts awakened a deep seated need to collect his blood, as hate and vengeance roused a powerful rage inside him. The overwhelming feeling stole away his breath. He closed his eyes, imagining Dalton pleading for his pathetic life as Giddeon squeezed his carotid tighter and tighter. He longed to hear the gurgling noises escaping the lips of his victim as he fought to pull air into his seizing lungs.

  A ghost of a smile danced across Giddeon’s lips as he longed for the day he could see Dalton’s all-consuming fear paralyze him… in person. Glaring into his cold eyes, he wanted nothing more than to take his power and control from him… as he took his life. This fantasy would keep Giddeon moving forward until the day he could finally douse the hungry beast that lay waiting. Waiting for the day he could squeeze the betrayal right out of Dalton.

  Scalding hot sensations abruptly brought the disturbed man back to reality as the detective snatched the now crushed cup from his clenched fists. The coffee burned a magnificent trail down his hands and wrists, dripping onto the table. The images of Dalton’s bloodshot eyes clouding over as death claimed him still hovered in his consciousness.

  Dominick handed him a napkin to clean himself off with.

  “That betrayal leaves a bitter aftertaste, doesn’t it?”

  Giddeon gritted his teeth, biting down so hard he was surprised his teeth didn’t chip under the punishing pressure. “I’m going to fucking kill him.”