Hell's Redemption- The Complete Series Boxset

by Grace McGinty

He laughed but didn’t take my bet.

  I pointed to the couple in the back-left corner, just opposite us. Gus half smiled as he joined in my game.

  “Presently, they are here to have sex in the cinema, but eventually they will get married, have three kids and he’ll die at 54 of a heart attack.”

  Ouch. Poor guy. Poor Gus. I couldn’t imagine knowing everyone’s end game.

  “The couple down the front. Do they have a second date?”

  The incredulous look on Gus’s face told me everything I needed to know. I pointed to a woman in the middle of the cinema. “She looks lonely, but I bet she’s just glad no one wants to sit beside her.” I could have told him I wasn’t guessing their backstories anymore. That I knew because I was an empathetic. But it wasn’t the right time.

  I looked at the last person in the cinema. “That guy is… not good.”

  Gus frowned too. “You are right. But he will never enact the fantasies he spends so much time creating, but it will be due to interruption, not lack of intention. He will go to jail, but not for very long.”

  I sighed. It was times like this I wished that I was Rella, or Ace, or Lux or anyone other than soft, gentle Hope. Weak. They could just walk up to the guy, and threaten him until he believed they would cause him irreparable bodily harm unless he changed his ways.

  But I couldn’t. I could walk through a crowd, and feel everything from the most beautiful joy and the darkest malice, and I couldn’t affect any of it.

  Sometimes, when I was feeling discontented, I used to walk up and down the George Washington Bridge, trying to make a difference, trying to be a hero. Now they put up bigger railings, which was good, but I felt redundant again.

  The huge wave of lust made it clear that our row neighbors were getting to the climax of their movie. Gus grabbed a handful of popcorn and lobbed it over his head at the amorous pair. Their heads whipped toward us, well his head, hers was otherwise...occupied.

  “Don’t look,” Gus laughed, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and pretending to be engrossed in the storyline of an average man who was in love with his adorably dorky but secretly a cover model neighbor.

  Gus leaned close so his lips were a breath from my ear. “Your turn. How about we spice up the first date down there?” He handed me the box of milk duds. “They’re further away. You’ll need long range ammunition.”

  Sprinkling some of the duds in my hand, I took aim. And missed miserably.

  “I can see why you work in an office, you aren’t about to be called up to play for the Sox.” Gus chuckled. “Try again.”

  I closed one eye, and took aim. The screen lit up the dud like a beacon as it flew through the air, nailing the guy in the back of the head. I looked intently at the screen as the guy looked around at all the patrons of Cinema Number One.

  “I think you fluked it. Ten bucks says you can’t do it again,” he murmured under his breath. Picking up another dud, I took him up on his bet. Closing my eye, trying to recreate the perfect trajectory, I threw again. And missed. On the plus side, I got his date and it ricocheted off her head and into his.

  I turned to look at Gus, and his face was so close to mine that I could see the golden flecks in his eyes, the perfect cupid's bow of his lips. I could cut myself on the sharp line of his jaw. “That’s twenty bucks,” I whispered huskily, and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  “Oh?” He leaned forward. Shit. He was going to kiss me. And I wanted him to kiss me, I was almost sure of it.

  “Uh huh,” I said intelligently.

  “You’ll have to convince me.” The smooth temptation in his voice made me want to strip my clothes off in the cinema and make love to him right now.

  His lips had hardly brushed against mine when I was blinded by the light of god.

  Or maybe the flashlight of the cinema usher. I looked past him to the horny couple, who were giving us the stink eye.

  “There’s been a complaint.”

  I managed to look contrite at least until we left the cinema, when I doubled over with laughter. I laughed so hard my ribs hurt and I began to cough a little.

  “Go easy, or you’ll bust something.”

  I stood up and sucked in some deep breaths. “It’s your fault. I was enjoying that movie,” I said as we walked down the sidewalk, weaving in and out of people talking on their phone.

  Gus scoffed. “You don’t even know what the movie was about. Don’t try and guilt trip me, Sweet Pea, I invented it.”

  Squeezing in close to fit between two couples having a conversation in the middle of the sidewalk, I elbowed him in the ribs.

  “I do so. It was about unlikely love.”

  He cast a look at me from the side of his eye, but said nothing. He didn’t mention our almost kiss. “Okay, this way to the next stop the re-BAMF-ication of Hope,” he said, pulling me down a side street.

  “I hate to break it to you, but I was never a badass to start with.”

  Gus raised both eyebrows, but didn’t slow his stride. I was basically trotting to keep up now. “You have family dinners with Luc and Ace. You’re a badass whether you mean to be or not.”

  I shrugged. I couldn’t argue with that.

  We stopped. “Oh, no. No,” I said, looking at the sign on the front of the dark building in the side street. “I don’t think so.”

  Gus grinned, and it made my heart stutter in my chest. So pretty. I found myself walking toward the entrance of the building, before I snapped out of it. “Don’t smile like that at me. You’ll give me a heart attack or something. I’m only human.”

  “Are you, though?”

  Why did people keep asking me that? Of course I was. I’d been nearly dead in a hospital bed a week ago. I just had a little extra oomph, as my dad, Sam, liked to say. I looked up at the sign that announced the shop as a tattoo parlor. I definitely had a thing about needles, and getting one jammed through my flesh repeatedly sounded like some kind of torture Luc would cook up in hell.

  “Why not? Are you afraid?” He didn’t say it in a taunting way. He legitimately wanted to know if I was scared.

  “A little,” I admitted.

  He leaned a hip against the plate glass window of the parlor. “I can’t get tattoos. We heal too unnaturally and it would be gone in hours. But I have always been fascinated by the idea of taking something that God considered perfect, and making it more beautiful. Like he gave humans the ability to create art, but he denies them his most perfect canvas?”

  He seemed genuinely perplexed, and it was selling me on the idea, dammit. “Okay. Something small. Tiny. Like a cow from an aeroplane small.”

  “You want a tattoo of a cow jumping out of an aeroplane?”

  I stared at him. “What?”

  A smile curled his lips again, and I realized he was teasing me. Again.

  I rolled my eyes and held back my own grin as I pushed through the doors. The doorbell tinkled, and the interior was delightfully quaint and even a little retro. The total antithesis of the huge tattooed man that walked through the curtain and up to the counter.

  “Yeah?”

  He eyed up Gus, then me, and convinced he could pulverize us both, went back to looking bored.

  “I’d like a tattoo, if you have time? It’ll just be small.” The big guy stared at my face, and then at Gus.

  “Fine. What do you want?”

  I went blank. Shit. What did I want? I blurted out the first thing that popped into my brain.

  “Angel wings. One wing black, and the other white.”

  The big guy pulled out an odd purple marker, and sketched something right there on the counter. I stood riveted, as the wings came to life, breathtaking in their miniature perfection, like he’d seen the wings of an angel before.

  I must have let out a sound of appreciation, because while the big, bald tattooist didn’t so much as crack a smile, I could feel his pleasure at creating something that caused my appreciation.

  “It’s perfect,” I breathed when he was finishe
d.

  “Maybe they should be outlined in gold, the white ones at least. Perhaps blue for the black ones. Just to make them pop.”

  I rolled my eyes. He was about as subtle as a sledgehammer. White with gold tips? “Why don’t I just tattoo your name on my ass?”

  Gus laughed. “I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”

  The big tattooist, seriously, he fit the stereotypical biker/tattooist image perfectly, grumbled low under his breath. When he looked at Gus, he felt nothing but disgust. “Do you guys know each other?”

  Gus gave me a precocious grin. “Unfortunately, we haven’t.” He thrust out a hand. “I’m Gusion. And you are?”

  “Cain.”

  The laugh that Gus let out came from somewhere deep in his soul, and it was tinged with bitterness. “Of course it is.”

  “Are we doing this or what?” Cain said in a low voice.

  I was a bit torn. I didn't understand the tattooists anger toward Gus, when he felt absolutely nothing for me except maybe pity? I had no idea why. People were confusing.

  “Sure, let’s go,” I said, following Cain behind the curtain. He turned as Gus tried to follow. “You stay there. Too cramped.”

  Gus just smiled and saluted. I walked into a little cubicle in the back and sat down on a black pleather chair. Everything was as sterile as a dental office.

  “Where do you want it?” Cain’s voice sounded a little like a bass drum. A deep rough burst that you felt in your chest.

  I didn’t need to think about it. Stretching my arms, I reached the tab of my zip and slid it down peeling my dress down to my waist and prayed that tattooists were like doctors and seamstresses. They weren’t allowed to laugh at you in your underwear.

  Preparing myself for the a pulse of lust, I was shocked when I got an overwhelming wave of rage. My eyes shot to Cain’s face, and he was staring at my ribs, at the green and yellow bruises that patched my torso and made me look a little like I was wearing camo.

  “Did he do that?”

  I looked at my bruises as if I would see a name written there. “Who?”

  “The pretty boy out front.”

  If there had been a lightbulb over my head, it would have gone off. I rubbed my jaw. I’d forgotten the bruises there too. Cain thought Gus beat me.

  I felt an overwhelming affection for this near perfect stranger.

  “Oh, no. Gus didn’t do this. I had an accident.” I didn’t think I could explain I’d been abducted by Estonian human traffickers to a perfect stranger.

  “My mother had a lot of accidents too. If you need help…” he trailed off as he prepared the tattoo gun.

  I sat up and wrapped my arms around this huge beast of a man who was willing to help a complete stranger in need. He stiffened in my arms, and I remembered I was just in my bra. Whoops.

  Sitting back, I beamed at him. “Thank you, Cain. You restored my faith in humanity. But Gus really didn’t do this. I got caught up in something bad, but I’m okay now. I've got lots of people to watch my back, Gus included.” Cain snorted, and I didn’t have to have a tap into his emotions to sense his scepticism.

  “Don’t let the pretty package fool you, he’s more dangerous than he looks.” He was dangerous on a level that would probably make Big Cain cry.

  He gave a non-committal “mmph”, and set everything on the tray by the chair. “Lay back. The ribs hurt, and there's a little bit of bruising but I think it is old enough that it won’t affect the ink too badly.”

  Cain was not kidding. It hurt like a bitch. Not as much as a broken rib or two, but enough that I wondered why anyone would get tattooed more than once. Cain didn’t speak at all, focused on his task, and I enjoyed the white noise of the tattoo gun. I needed the silence of Cain’s simple emotions, and the pain of the tattoo needle, to finally zone out. All too soon, the big tattooist was straightening.

  “Finished. Mirror is over there.” He pointed over his shoulder to a door mirror that seemed to be adhered directly to the wall. I didn’t bother trying to cover up. Cain had literally had his head inches from my boob for an hour, and he’d been nothing but purely professional. Somehow, Cain had made the wings almost the perfect counterbalance to the other, while making both unique. How he’d managed it was a mystery to me, but my eyes misted up a bit at the perfection of each wing. Two halves of a whole.

  “You are a true artist, Cain. Thanks.” He waved away my words with a grunt, but his emotions glowed again. He dressed it with some kind of ointment and plastic wrap. “No pools or baths for a week. Rub this cream on it every day. Try not to wear anything too tight ’til it heals.”

  I pulled my dress up over my shoulders, and Cain pulled up the zip at the back. “Thanks,” I said, looking over my shoulder at the man that must have been as wide as I was tall, and at least be six and a half feet tall.

  I followed him to the front of shop, and Gus was sitting on the hard bench seats, looking through flash books. He stood and smiled when he saw us emerging from behind the curtain.

  “How’d it go?” he looked me over. “Where’d you get it?”

  I blushed. “I’ll show you later.”

  He grinned but there was a heat in his eyes that seemed to be simmering all day. “Sounds promising.”

  Cain stepped in front of me. “She says it wasn’t, but if I find out you marked her body like that, I will rip your limbs off and feed them to my dogs,” his deep voice made the threat seem all the more ominous.

  “I’d tear my own limbs off before I hurt her, but I promise you, she can take care of herself.”

  I wasn’t so sure about that, but I smiled at the compliment anyway. I paid for my tattoo and happily accepted Cain’s business card. I didn’t think I would be back, because what kind of sucker does that twice? But I liked Cain.

  Strolling out of the tattoo parlour, the sun was starting to slip behind the taller buildings. The tattoo stung as I moved, but I liked the grounding sensation. I wrapped my hand through Gusion’s offered arm and smiled.

  “Thanks for today. I had fun despite myself.”

  He led us around the corner, in a direction that was opposite to the way home. “Oh, the night’s just getting started, Sweetheart.”

  Chapter Nine

  The music thumped through my chest like a defibrillator. I’d never been to a club like this before, and I had to admit, I was pretty awed by their athletic prowess. And their shoes. Damn I loved the shoes.

  “Does that one have gold love hearts dangling from the back of her shoes? Look, Gus, they are so pretty. I want a pair.”

  Gus sighed heavily. “I think strip clubs might be wasted on you. Also, no more margaritas. Damn, you are a lightweight. I’m going to have a serious word with Ace about your complete lack of corruption.”

  I snatched my margarita out of his reach and cradled it to my chest protectively. “I’m a badass motherfucker, you said so yourself.”

  “I’m reassessing,” he deadpanned, but then ruined it by smiling. When he smiled, there was an audible sigh around the bar that I could hear even over the thumping music.

  There were way more women in here than I’d thought, and every single one was transfixed by Gusion. The topless bartender even gave us free drinks. Probably bringing a new meaning to getting a Slippery Nipple.

  “Well, my taste doesn’t really swing this way. Though, that one might have me reassessing my preferences. Did you see that thing she did with her leg?” Some of the dancers defied the laws of physics and human biology. People weren’t meant to bend that way.

  “Just wait, Sweetheart. Have I led you astray before?”

  “Yes. Three times today and I’ve only known you less than a week.”

  He raised a finger and tapped my nose. “Fair point. Oh, here we go.”

  The music switched to something slow and sexy. The double doors at the end of the stage swung open, and four well-oiled guys strode out.

  “Who are they?” I whispered, as my drunken brain frantically tried to count all the visi
ble abdominal muscles. Could four guys have more than thirty abs between them, or was I getting double vision?

  Gus looked just as interested in the guys as the women. “They’re from the male review next door.”

  “There's a man strip club next door and I’ve been in here the entire time? What the hell?” I screeched, earning myself some dirty looks from the people around us. Gus waved me away, and made me watch.

  Three more female dancers moved onto the stage, skimpily dressed, err, undressed maybe, in lingerie. The guys were in various pants, some in tailored dress pants and suspenders, some in jeans that hung so low on his hips that I saw the fuzz of hair at the bottom of one guys V. One guy had gym shorts and the other one was in a thong. He was packing and I was a little worried that if he stepped wrong his balls would fall out the side. The slow thrum of bass filled the room, and the dancers all paired up. Each pair played out a different scenario. Sweet tender lovemaking, dancing in a club. One couple was doing what I could only assume was the aerial gymnastics version of having sex.

  But it was the blonde with the bedazzled heels and the guy with the suspenders that had me transfixed. They were barely touching, though the guy had her backed up against the pole. He was prowling around her, his eyes appraising her body like he was imagining all the ways he could make it sing. Then he reached out and grabbed her hand, then the other, pressing them both above her head. His hands were so big he could anchor them around her tiny wrists and against the pole with one hand. She curved her body around the pole, sliding downwards and then up again. He ran a hand down her naked ribcage, whirling around her as his body undulated against hers in an imitation of… well, you know. The whole time their bodies were flowing to the music, but I forgot they were dancing, caught up in their story. She shook his hands off, and danced around him, the glee on her face letting the crowd know that what was about to come was going to be delicious. He grabbed her by the wrist, whirling her into his arms, her ass pressed against the tight zip of his pants. He leaned close enough to kiss her, then spun her around so she was facing the pole, pressing her hard into it, his hand sliding down her spine in a proprietary way. Then he smacked her on the ass, a large handprint taking up her entire butt cheek. I sucked in a breath. Heat pulsed between my thighs.