Beyond Redemption (Marked Series Book 2)

by Jesse Lorenzo

  The different feelings and thoughts were confusing for her. But, the good seemed to outweigh the bad, because every time she stood outside this building, she thought of her parents and how much she loved and missed them. Hope swelled inside her chest as they stepped closer. She stood in front of the abandoned building and stared at the bright yellow sign that read ‘FOR LEASE’. Ellora’s head whipped around, and she glanced up at Behr. A knowing smile was already in place as he nodded at her. Ellora couldn’t help but answer his silent gesture with a smile of her own.

  “I think it’s about time for you to get your career started, love. Grady’s place is fixed up n’ runnin’ successfully because of you. Now, it’s time for Ellora Belle Sutherland to start living her life. You could start your own contractor’s business ’ere.” He waved his hand at yet another sad looking building that begged for some TLC—one that called out to her to be restored. “The lease is reasonable, and best of all, it’s centrally located in town.”

  Behr ran his hand down her cheek, skimming it gently with his fingertips, and cupped her chin. Turning her head around and up to meet his eyes, he told her, “You can do this, love. I know ya can. I will be ’ere by your side every step of the way. You deserve all the happiness this world has to offer. Your father and mother would want this for you, as well, so I will do whatever it takes to make sure it happens.”

  Behr lifted one eyebrow and smirked when he caught Ellora’s tell-tale, ‘I’m about to cry’ chin tremble. “Let’s just say I’m acting on their behalf.”

  Tears filled her eyes and threatened to spill over at the very mention of her loving parents. Her chest ached as she was consumed by the hollowness and sorrow that resided inside her broken heart. She wished, like always, that they could be here with her. But, now, she had a new wish to add to it. She wished her dad could’ve met Behr. He would’ve liked him a great deal. “You’re right, Behr. This is exactly what my parents would’ve wanted for me.”

  The thoughtful man kissed the tip of her nose and nibbled her quivering chin before breaking their eye contact. He looked back over to the abandoned warehouse, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his stubbled chin, deep in thought.

  “I think we might be able to strike up a bargain with the Leaser in much the same way you did with Grady. Lower the lease amount, and in exchange, we could fix up all the property damage on our own, saving them the hassle and cost.”

  This building had suffered a lot of damage. Giddeon broke the side door in order to carry out his plan to forcefully bring Ellora back to Dalton. The bay windows were completely busted out. Shattered glass littered all over the floor on the inside. The walls and sheet rock were cracked in some areas and suffered huge holes in others, due to their fight. Add to that decades of abandonment and neglect. This. Place. Was. Trashed.

  Her heart raced in panic at the thought of someone else possibly getting their hands on this property. It was, after all, an amazing deal. What if they took over and tore it all down to the ground to rebuild? Starting over from scratch would be the easiest thing to do. But, this was her father’s hardware store… and his father’s before him. He met her mother here. He fell in love with her right inside this very building.

  Even in its depressing, ominous state, she could still feel the loving presence of her parents all around her. Ellora closed her eyes and let the warm sun wrap itself around her like a mother’s embrace. She could sense them and all the years of good memories that came with this building. It was now the only possession Ellora could get her hands on that was directly connected to her parents. She couldn’t let anyone else have it. She wouldn’t even entertain the thought. That warehouse belonged to her, belonged in her family line alone.

  In some odd way, the run-down building looked as though it cried out for someone to show mercy and compassion for its sad state. Just like Ellora, it needed a lot of hard work and love to get it back to the way it used to be. Fixing it up might be therapeutic. Ellora would work on the building… and in a way, the building would work on her. It wouldn’t be easy, but it was worth every effort.

  Behr was right; Grady’s place was finished. It was finally time for her to stop hiding and start living her life the way she wanted. She could do this. Ellora looked up at Behr as excitement grew steadily inside of her. He tilted his head to the side and grinned a lopsided grin, waiting for her answer. She brought herself up on her tiptoes, so she could reach his lips, and laid a kiss that could melt ice. Behr’s eyebrows flew up in surprise.

  “Yes! This building’s been in my family for years. It’s mine. Always has been. Let’s make the call. I want to get started immediately.”

  Behr wrapped his arms around her waist, lifting her up and twirling her around in circles. She giggled as a surge of excited anticipation and nervousness pulsed through her veins at the thought of actually being a business owner. Ellora kissed Behr while still in his arms, and savored the warmth of his lips. His strong, full lips moved against hers with the perfect amount of pressure. It had her soaring higher and higher into a pleasure she had yet to understand.

  Behr captured her bottom lip with his teeth and pulled, letting out a rough throaty laugh when Ellora squeaked out her surprise. Landing one more peck on the tip of her nose, Behr finally decided to set her back down on solid ground. Pulling his cell out of his pocket, Ellora watched as his strong hands balanced the delicate device, his large fingers skillfully punching in the numbers. He pressed it to his ear and waited.

  “Yes. Hello, Miss, I’m calling about a property you have listed for lease. May I have a moment to speak with the agent in charge, please? Aye, I can hold.” Behr’s eyes shifted to focus back on Ellora.

  “There’s no better time than here and now. Your future has been here waiting for you all along, Ellora. Grab it with both hands, love. Hang on for the ride….”

  The ecstatic girl in his arms nodded in agreement. She squeezed him in tighter, finishing his sentence. “…And never let go.”

  Giddeon didn’t know how Dominick convinced the Scottish authorities, or the angry townsfolk, to let him go, but they were definitely not happy about it. Their flight back to Syracuse was long and exhausting. Detective Antonelli replaced his cuffs with an expensive, state of the art ankle bracelet with a GPS tracking device directly connected to his cell phone. Dominick was just one click away from knowing his exact whereabouts. Yes. There is an app for that.

  Their flight was relatively quiet, as they were both engulfed in their own thoughts. A lot had happened in a short period of time. Dominick informed him right off the bat that he would be staying with him that night. He didn’t want Giddeon out of his sight for one minute. He didn’t blame him, either. This didn’t bother Giddeon in the slightest; hardly anything did anymore. Plus, it was a way better set up than prison.

  Giddeon was numbly going through all the motions, still in shock over the events that had unfolded.

  When they arrived, Dominick steered them straight to his apartment to catch up on some much need rest, unpack, and unwind, which was fine with him. He wasn’t sure yet where they would start on their mutual quest to take down Dalton. After all, they couldn’t just march through his high-rise office, accusing him of disappearances and multiple homicides… or, at the very least, of being the mastermind behind all of it. They needed evidence to back it up, and trustworthy people to follow through with the prosecution. The second would be harder to find. Dalton had very powerful friends in very high places.

  He was smarter than that, anyway. Giddeon would bet that Dalton already knew they were back in town. He would definitely be looking over his shoulder for the remainder of the time he was in the city.

  Giddeon realized, too late, that he had absolutely zilch with him. No clothes. No toothbrush. No possessions of any kind. And he desperately needed a shower. Swallowing his dwindling pride, he walked into the living room. Dominick lounged all the way back in his dark, beat up, leather recliner, aimlessly flipping through the TV channels. “Hey, Dete
ctive, you got any clothes I can bum off you until I collect all my shit from my place?”

  “Yeah. Sure.” Dominick let out an exhausted breath as he hauled himself up out of the comfortable chair. “No problem.” He followed him down the short narrow hallway a few steps behind, to the last room on the right. Giddeon hung back, not wanting to invade his personal space. He leaned his worn out body on the threshold of the creaky door.

  Dominick pulled out a couple pairs of graphic t-shirts, a pair of dark faded jeans, and a grey pair of sweatpants. He tossed them in his direction. “You’re going to have to free ball it until we go get your stuff, because there is no way in hell you’re wearing my fucking boxers.”

  Ha. What a smart ass, Giddeon thought, smirking as he passed by him. “What? Are you telling me we’re not going to be BFFs? That hurts my feelings, Detective,” Giddeon gave back, heavy on the sarcasm.

  Dominick shook his head in defeat, laughing lightly. “Shut up, asshole, and stop calling me Detective in my own house. It’s getting weird.”

  Dominick flung his hand out, motioning toward a smaller door adjacent to his bedroom door. “The bathroom is through there, and for the love of God… use your own bar of soap. Fresh bars are in the cabinet under the sink.”

  “Thanks, boss.” Giddeon nodded, appreciating the fresh digs. He walked into the small bathroom and paused halfway in, turning around as a thought popped into his head. But, he was interrupted before he even got the chance to ask.

  “Bracelet’s waterproof,” Dominick shouted over his shoulder without looking back, as he headed back over to his waiting chair.

  Six-thirty rolled around, and Dominick finally dragged himself out of the chair and into the kitchen. Groggily, he filled a well-worn pot with water and placed it on his older model stove. Giddeon walked into the kitchen with his hair still dripping from his heavenly hot shower. He hadn’t had one that relaxing in a while. “Whatcha makin’ for dinner, Dad?” he asked with a condescending voice, trying his best to get under his skin.

  Dominick answered him quickly, not at all phased by his personality. “Ramen Noodles.”

  Giddeon pumped his fist in the air enthusiastically. “Yes. We’re eating like kings tonight. Woohoo! All right!” He smirked when the detective glanced over at him, and he knew what he was thinking, too. ‘God. What. A. Prick.’

  Instead, he chuckled dryly, adding, “You play your cards right, and we’ll eat like this every night.” Giddeon pulled out a chair and plopped down heavily at the table in the eat-in kitchen. He was surprised that he couldn’t get a rise out of Dominick. He seemed willing to play along.

  Scooping up two big spoonful’s, he dumped them into big soup bowls. Dominick slid Giddeon’s across the table at him, sagged down into his own chair, and dug in. They wasted no time shoveling the noodles into their mouths hungrily. Dominick eyed him the whole time. Giddeon could see he wanted to ask him some questions. Cops.

  “What’s on your mind, Dom? Spit it out.”

  Taking one more big bite, he gulped hard and answered. “I was just wondering how you came into contact with Dalton? How did you meet him?”

  Still eating, Giddeon snorted at that question. He kicked his leg up onto the chair he was sitting in, and draped his arm over his knee. Screw manners—this was how he always ate. Why stop now? “Online dating. No, wait… It was an ad in the personals.”

  Dominick dropped his spoon down into his empty bowl, making a clanking sound, and just glared at him. His frustration with him finally showed in the ticking of his jaw.

  “All right, all right, I’m just fucking with you. Keep your panties on.” Giddeon slurped down a spoonful of soggy noodles as he thought back to the very first encounter. He started the story even with his mouth full.

  “Well, after my…” Nope. His brain put a halt to his big mouth before he revealed more. Refusing to talk about his parents, he skipped ahead. “I hated my foster parents. They were dicks. So, I used to sneak out of the house every chance I got and would wander around downtown. There was this one skater shop and tattoo joint I liked to hang out at, to people watch. Or pick fights. Mostly, pick fights. Well, there was this high class rich man’s club a few buildings down. This thick-necked, juice using asshole stood out front. I guess he was supposed to be a bouncer. I couldn’t stand looking at his fat face anymore, so I messed with him non-stop, trying to find that one button, that one button everyone has that prevents them from snapping, and press it. It didn’t take me long at all to find his and push.”

  Dominick raised one eyebrow at the man sitting across from him, prompting him to go on. He was obviously curious as to what it was.

  “I asked him if his girlfriend had to use a magnifying glass to find his dick. His face turned purple, and he roared at me… like, actually roared out like a lion. I apologized and said, ‘My bad, bro. I meant your boyfriend.” I told him he better quit the ‘roids before his micro-penis regressed into a vagina, and he wouldn’t be able to please his boyfriend anymore.”

  Dominick threw his head back and bellowed out a long throaty laugh. He hadn’t laughed in a long time. His lungs hurt from the force of it, the sound echoing off the walls in the cramped kitchen. Giddeon laughed right along with him. “Anyone ever tell you that you have a serious anger problem?”

  His inked arms flew out to his sides. “That I do, Detective,” he agreed, still laughing. “Well, he charged me like a raging bull. I swear I saw smoke coming out of his eyes and ears. He lunged at me, slow and clumsy. I easily dodged out of his way and kicked my foot out, tripping him and shouting ‘Timber’ as he went down. He fell hard on the paved walkway. I jumped on top of him, pounding the piss out of him. Come to find out, that club… and that meathead, belonged to Dalton.”

  Pausing the story, Giddeon finished up his poor man’s meal, grabbed the bowl, and walked into the kitchen. He dumped the bowl into the sink, hopped up onto the counter top, and continued. “I was a kid full of incredible anger with no way of unleashing it all. I couldn’t control it, and I definitely couldn’t stop once I’d started.”

  Giddeon hesitated, running his marked-up hands through his damp hair. “Hell, I still can’t. That wasn’t the first time I picked a fight for no reason, but it was the one that changed everything. As I rained punches down on his bloodied face, a noise pulled me out of my destructive haze. I was distracted by the loud clicking noise of a Zippo lighter. Dalton was leaning up against the club doors, a cigar firmly in hand. He just watched as I demolished his goon. His smile was dripping with self-righteous arrogance, and it stopped me dead in my tracks. I eased up off the meathead and stood up to face him. Not sure what would happen next, I readied myself for either another fight, or to run the hell outta there.”

  Giddeon aimlessly rearranged the items lined up on Dominick’s countertop for another minute. He did this until Dominick drew his attention back by asking, “What did he do with you?”

  He looked over at him, still sitting at the table. “I remember thinking that this yuppie asshole was going to call the cops for sure. But, instead, he assured me that he never involved the police in his affairs. He looked down at his goon with disgust, which shocked me, and then regarded me, apparently impressed with what I’d done.

  “After instructing one of his men to drag the goon off the street, he bargained with me instead. He pledged to forget all about this incident, but only if I came to work for him in his new building. I’d start out at the bottom, of course... A janitor. I don’t know if that was like a metaphor for ‘clean up your act’ or whatever. But, he was going to pay me well, so I thought what the hell. I moved up the ranks quickly.” Giddeon shrugged as he ended the story right there.

  Dominick leaned far back in his chair, balancing on the two back legs and drumming his fingers on the table top. Giddeon could tell the direction the detective’s thoughts were taking him by the look on his face.

  “When was the first incident he had you threaten or hurt someone? And who was it?”

 
And there it was. A burning churned heavily in the pit of Giddeon’s stomach and grew outward. He pinched the bridge of his nose as anger, guilt, and regret seemed to cloud over his vision. He tried hard to focus on his end goal… Getting his hands on Dalton… Find and kill the man responsible for butchering his parents. When Dominick got up from the chair, Giddeon quickly jumped off the counter.

  He paced back and forth in the cramped space, trying without success to relieve his pent up aggression and extra energy. Without some sort of an outlet, it always took him a while to get a hold of himself. That familiar need deep inside him grew. He shook with the effort it took to restrain himself from smashing everything around him, and maiming the first person he could get his hands on. Air whooshed in and out of his lungs in short, shallow breaths.

  “Not now, Detective… Not tonight. I… just. Can’t.” Unconsciously, he cracked his knuckles as he thought about the vile, horrendous things Dalton had him do in those early years. Giddeon despised himself. Cold sweat broke out on his forehead as the dangerously familiar need itched and clawed its way out of him, prickling all across his skin. Begging him to hurt someone… to hurt himself. Giddeon’s tremors grew more violent. He knew he had to try to control this while staying here.

  Dominick casually strode back into the kitchen. Too close to Giddeon. “Stay away from me.” His voice was several octaves lower, anger and frustration altering the sound. “I just… need a minute. Give me a minute to get myself right.” Through the thrumming in his ears, he was aware of Dominick’s heavy footsteps as he walked by him. Too close. Giddeon turned his back, unable to face him in this state. Grabbing the edge of the countertop, the deeply disturbed man gripped them with a force that whitened his knuckles under the punishing pressure.

  Dominick opened the fridge, and a few seconds later, a can of beer skidded across the Formica surface toward him. “I’ll give you a few days to settle in. Then, we are having this conversation. You got that?”