Redemption

by R. R. Banks

  Out of the corner of my eye I noticed what looked like the corner of a suitcase. It seems to have once been placed on the back seat of the car, but the impact of the back of the car into the tree had sent it on to the floorboards and wedged it in between the front seats. I grasped the handle and pulled. It gave only a couple of inches and then remained in place. I grabbed onto it with my other hand and I moved it back and forth, maneuvering it until it finally came loose. The suitcase seemed somewhat crumpled, but other than that was intact. I put it on the passenger seat and leaned down to look between the front seat at the floorboards and what of the backseat I could still see. It didn't look like there was anything else in the car. The idea that she had traveled with only one small suitcase struck me as odd, but I still didn't know where she could have come from or how long she had intended to spend on the mountain. I thought about looking in the glove compartment to see if there might be a license or something else that could identify her, but I changed my mind. Bringing her a suitcase that was in plain sight was one thing, but digging through her glove compartment was another. I pulled the keys out of the ignition, locked the doors, and grabbed the suitcase. Ducking my head down against the wind and the snowflakes, I made my way back to the lodge.

  I brought the suitcase into the guest room and checked on the woman. She was still lying on the bed, but head turned slightly so she lay partially on her side, still sleeping quietly. Scout lifted his head and looked at me as if to tell me that he had been watching over her and that she was still fine. I patted his head and told him he was a good boy. Apparently, this was enough to relieve him of his duties and he jumped down off the bed and headed into the kitchen to eat. I carefully untied the woman's boots and pulled them off of her feet and draped a blanket over her. I looked at the cut on her forehead again. I noticed that while the blood seemed to be drying, the cut was significant enough that I wanted to make sure it was covered. I went into the bathroom and came back with a damp cloth and a bandage. Moving as carefully as I could so as not to disturb her, I gently cleaned the cut. The fact that she had fallen forward and rested her head on the steering wheel seemed to have spread the blood, making the cut seem more serious than it really was, and I was relieved to see that it was smaller than I had originally thought. The woman groaned slightly in her sleep and I paused to look down at her. She was beautiful even though streaks of makeup down her cheeks were testament that she had gone through something before the car crashed into the tree.

  As I went back to cleaning her forehead and putting a bandage over it, my mind continued to search through memories to find her. I saw her again, standing in the hallway, looking at me around the arm of a girl standing much closer. The girl standing closer to me was Staci Boyer, a cheerleader who was eyeing me to finish her football team bed-hopping bingo board. She was bold and forward, willing to do and say anything that she thought that I wanted her to just to get my attention. That had been thrilling when I was younger and first discovering my place in the popular crowd of the high school, but now it was boring at best, disturbing at worst. What was catching my attention at that moment was the shy, quiet girl.

  Charlotte.

  Her name came to me suddenly, rushing back into my mind as I remembered her noticing that I was looking at her. Her cheeks had reddened, and she had turned away suddenly, scurrying away down the hallway. There had been something about her then that had piqued my interest, making me wonder about her, and I was still wondering about her now as I watched her sleep for a few moments. Why was she on my mountain? What had brought her up this far to a place that I had chosen specifically because of its distance from people? I didn't know what might have brought her to the narrow, dangerous road that led down the mountain, and the thoughts and feelings that were coursing through me were strange and tangled, I couldn't determine if I was glad that she was there, glad to see her again, or if she was an intrusion in the solitude that I had carefully crafted for myself in the lodge.

  Scout appeared back at the door to the bedroom and then walked to the bed, hopping up and resuming his position curled up at Charlotte's feet. He looked up at me as if to tell me that my services were no longer needed, and I smiled.

  "Alright, boy. You go ahead and watch over her. Make sure she's OK. I'm going to go and try to relax a little."

  Scout watched me walk out of the room and when I glanced back in after looking away he had his head rested on his feet again. Confident that Charlotte was safe and comfortable for the time being, I walked out of the guest room and through the lodge to the room in the back hall, a room that I often kept locked even though no one else came into the house. Locking it somehow seemed to keep what was inside more secure, as though it couldn't affect me as much when it was locked away. That way I could go into it when I wanted to, when I needed to, and avoid it when I didn't.

  Chapter Five

  Charlotte

  I didn't immediately open my eyes when I woke up. I laid there for a few seconds, feeling strange and disoriented. I couldn't remember falling asleep or what had happened in the minutes before I laid down. I felt the soft pillow beneath my head and the blanket draped over me, and realized that I didn't know where I was or how I had gotten there. I slowly lifted my eyelids, not knowing what I was going to see when my eyes opened fully, and found myself staring at a window. The curtains were pulled back and the space beyond the glass was impenetrably dark. I couldn't see anything beyond the blurry reflection that was created by the light filtering from an open door behind me. I sat up, looking around, trying to orient myself in the space, but there was nothing around me that was even slightly familiar. I didn't know where I was or what had gotten me there. I looked back at the reflection in the window and a sinking feeling came to my belly as unfamiliar eyes stared back at me.

  I didn't know who I was.

  See how Micah and Charlotte’s story unfolds. Get Damaged HERE.

  Accidental Daddy (Sample)

  A Billionaire’s Baby Romance

  By R.R. Banks

  An Amazon Top 20 Bestseller

  *370 Customer Reviews – 4.5/5 Stars

  She gave me her innocence. I gave her a baby.

  As a billionaire, I’m used to getting what I want.

  And that night I wanted her.

  It was only supposed to be a one night stand.

  No names, no numbers, only searing passion and lust.

  I took her virginity.

  Felt her sweet submission.

  I knew she was meant to be mine.

  To touch. To command.

  But she left before I woke the next morning.

  It’s been a year and I find out that she has something that belongs to me.

  Lorelei, my daughter.

  I will do everything in my power to find her.

  Make her mine.

  And complete our family.

  Will I get my family or is one night all I’ll have forever?

  Chapter One

  Beatrice

  “I’m not wearing a thong and bra in public no matter how much fake fur you glue to it.”

  “I’ve taken your laundry out of the dryer before. I hold it in good authority that you wear thongs in public all the time.”

  I glared at my roommate as she reached for her hot glue gun again and continued adding patches of black faux fur to her own barely-existent panties.

  “Under clothing, Nia. I wear thongs under clothing. Oddly enough, the same thing goes for my bras. I’m funny like that with underwear.”

  “Oh, come on, Bea. It’s Halloween. Loosen up a little.”

  I hated that she called me Bea. It made me feel like I should be wearing shoulder pads and eating cheesecake.

  “I am loosened,” I argued. “I agreed to go to your party this year, didn’t I?”

  “Only after I held it over your head for the last two years and started my unrelenting campaign of persuasion in June.”

  She means nagging.

  “The point is, I’m going. I w
ill finally bear witness to the famous Nia Johnson Halloween Extravaganza. But I’m still not wearing a fur-covered thong and calling myself a koala.”

  “A sexy koala.”

  “Koalas aren’t sexy. They are furry little grey marsupials that eat eucalyptus.”

  “So, toss a breath mint in their mouths and they’ll smell like your linen spray. It doesn’t matter. They’re adorable, and on Halloween anything that is adorable can be turned into something sexy. That’s just how it works.”

  “Not with me. I haven’t dressed up for Halloween in years and the last time that I did I was wondering which costume would get me the most candy from my neighbors.”

  “Well, now you get to decide what costume is going to get you the most treats from the sexy men that are coming to my party,” Nia said with a mischievous smile.

  “Sexy?” I asked. “Does that mean that they are dressing up like koalas, too?”

  She shot me a glare that rivaled my own.

  “No,” she said. “These are some of the very powerful, very handsome, and very eligible men who frequent the hotel.”

  In this instance I could only assume “eligible” was Nia’s codeword for wealthy. The hotel where she worked specifically catered to those with discerning tastes. That only worked to make me further question why any of them would want to come to the bawdy, decidedly unsophisticated Halloween bash my roommate was known for and where I knew she was hoping to rope one of them in. I wasn’t nearly as enthusiastic as she was. The truth was that I rarely went out of the house, wore clothing that actually covered most of my skin, and used thongs only for the purpose for which they were designed – allowing me to wear close-fitting pants and skirts at work without falling victim to the ultimate shame of the visible panty line. All of this added to distinctly less excitement for the upcoming party that Nia was having, but I had already committed to attending this year. We had gone through ideas for several costumes, and so far, koala was the frontrunner.

  “I am not putting my ass on display in front of men I don’t know, even if you make me mittens and furry ears to accompany it.”

  Nia let out an exasperated sigh.

  “Then what’s your idea? Because you have to have a costume. It’s absolutely required.”

  Somehow, I didn’t see her enforcing that rule on the men she had invited, requiring them to don plastic super hero suits or construction worker outfits that would put the Village People to shame.

  “I was thinking I could be a bee.”

  Nia looked at me like I said that I was going to dress as Halloween itself.

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “No one named Bea is allowed to dress as a bee,” she said with all the authority of someone quoting a historic treaty.

  “Well, that’s good, then, because my name’s not Bea.”

  “Look, Mrs. Potter, you’re not wearing stripes and running around my apartment buzzing at people.”

  I didn’t know if I should commend her for knowing that there was a Potter of relevance before Harry, or if I should correct her for apparently not knowing that person’s name. I went with correcting.

  “Bea-trix,” I said. “Her name is Beatrix.”

  “That’s so much better,” Nia said. “Your name should be Beatrix.”

  “You know what? I’ll just go right on back in time and let my parents know to make that little tweak. Be back in a bit.”

  I started for the door, intending on hiding in my section of the house that I shared with Nia and one other woman until November.

  “Fine,” Nia said. “You don’t have to be a koala. But you aren’t going as a bee, either. We’ll figure something out.” She glanced at her phone to check the time. “You want to run to the grocery store with me? I want to grab a few things for the party.”

  “It’s midnight,” I said.

  She shrugged.

  “So?”

  **

  There’s something almost unsettling about the glowing interior of a 24-hour grocery store in the middle of the night that always makes me a bit hesitant before I go inside them after a certain hour. There wasn’t anything like this back home and even though I had been living what my grandfather would call a highfalutin life out where such wonders were commonplace for a few years now, I still wasn’t entirely accustomed to them. The doors sliding open always felt just a shade too much like I was being lured into something that looked like it was holding promises of fabulous things, but was really only holding mischief and mayhem…and calories.

  “I love midnight grocery shopping,” Nia said as the sliding doors parted before her and light that should have been accompanied by angels singing burst out toward us.

  Of course, you do.

  I blinked against the sudden contrast between the vibrant light and the darkness that we had been walking through in the parking lot as I stepped inside the store. The floors were shimmering from a new layer of wax that had just been put down by those hopeful workers who I felt must go into their shifts each night hoping that no one will do something as nonsensical as shop for groceries in the middle of the night and ruin all of the hard work that creates approximately 10 minutes of pristine perfection in the store. I had the compulsion to take off my shoes and slide down the cereal aisle in my socks, and knew that the craftiness of the 24-hour store was getting to me. I had to wonder what had happened in our society that created a need that could only be filled with the ever-present availability of high fat snack foods, high fiber cereals, and a fully-stocked pharmacy section.

  I watched as Nia gathered several bags of Halloween candy from the towering display at the front of the store and then headed directly for a nearby table filled with pumpkin spice cake rolls, cookies, and all other means of autumnal sweets. It was that time of year when the combination of gourd, cinnamon, and nutmeg rose up and tried to take over all of civilization. I was fairly certain if I looked long enough I would find pumpkin spice dental floss and edible underwear. Possibly not in the same store, but likely similar customer bases.

  Nia grabbed an armful of the sweets and then headed for the doors again, coming back with a cart so she could manage more of a haul.

  “You want me to eat all of that and also wear three threads short of nothing to your party?” I asked.

  “Is this a party that anyone is invited to?”

  A slick, hinting voice from behind me made my stomach roll slightly. Nia glanced over my shoulder then at me, her expression incredulous.

  “Are you serious?” Nia whispered, but my eyes were closed as I shook my head, trying to convince myself that this wasn’t really happening. “Is this guy actually trying to pick you up?”

  Taking a resolute breath, I turned to face the dark, perpetually slumbering eyes that made me feel instantly self-conscious and brought a sharp pain into the middle of my chest.

  “Hello,” I said.

  A familiar, tugging feeling in my gut made me blush and scold my biological makeup for its shameless reaction to the man that was staring at me. The pain should be enough to take away that feeling, but it wasn’t. It was there, just like it always was, and I hated myself for it.

  “Hi, there.” Gregory’s eyes scanned my body. “Are you heading home or just going out?”

  “Home.”

  How could he do this to me? How could he fucking do this to me? Just go away.

  “Want some company?”

  Why now? Why not three years ago?

  Nia gasped, then became deeply engrossed in an investigation of the seasonal desserts.

  “I’m sorry,” I told him, looping an arm through Nia’s and pulling her closer, “I’m having a slumber party tonight. No boys allowed.”

  Gregory laughed the laugh that used to melt me and approached me. Cupping a hand around my face he leaned down to kiss me. His lips felt like they seared mine, bringing tears to my eyes and the same sick feeling to my belly. I had to fight the reaction that rushed up within me, not wanting to make
a scene in the middle of the store. He brought his mouth to my ear, close enough that I could feel his breath on me as he spoke.

  “I’m jealous,” he whispered and walked away.

  I restrained myself long enough for Gregory to get out of the aisle before flailing around like a cat climbing out of water, trying to shake away the feeling of his eyes, his hand, his lips.

  “Are you freakin’ kidding me?” Nia asked, sharply depositing another box of pumpkin pastry into the cart. She stared at me and then in the direction Gregory had sauntered for a second before adding a container of caramel and another bag of candy. “Did that man seriously just do that? I’ve spent three months planning a Halloween party in hopes of getting a little bit of trick or treat action, you don’t even want to go to it, and you still get a guy just ringing the hell out of your doorbell. Are you wearing some sort of neon ‘open’ sign that is only visible to men? And, if so, can I get the dealer’s number?”