Redemption

by Sam J. D. Hunt

  She laughed, and I laughed, which I never do, and the tension evaporated. Reaching a hand down to her, our skin touched. A little thing to most, but I didn’t really touch people. I punched, I fucked, I even licked, but I sure as fuck didn’t just touch.

  “Thank you, Shawn,” she said, our hands still connected. And I didn’t hate it.

  “Please don’t make me get rid of him.”

  “Thug? Why would you ever get rid of this sweet boy?”

  “My neighbor said pit bulls they make you rehome or something.”

  “That’s silly. Has he ever shown any aggression?”

  “Not to anyone. Not even when he was a puppy. I rescued him at about six weeks from a punk ass who was breeding them for fighting. Thug even stayed with my sister and kids when I was in prison.”

  “I’ll sign off on him if I have to do a report. Of course make sure he’s careful around the baby – he seems a bit wobbly.”

  “Arthritis, hip problems. I’ll be careful.”

  “Good, good.”

  I reached for my shirt, carefully folded on the side of the end table. I’d snuggled Grace to sleep minutes prior to hearing the Lexus pull in. She always fell asleep best against my skin.

  “She’s sleeping, but you can take a look.” I pointed to the video monitor showing my angel sleeping peacefully.

  “Can we talk a minute first?”

  I threw the t-shirt over my head and gestured toward the couch. “Sure.” I sat across from her, not wanting to risk our skin touching again.

  “Um, so you were in some sort of motorcycle gang?” I studied her as she flipped through a folder stuffed with papers documenting my sordid past.

  “No.”

  “Oh.” She flipped through a few more, and then looked back up at me.

  “Always do your homework, Ms. Drake.”

  “Tara.” Her fingers ran through her overly-conditioned hair. “To be honest, I just got your file and this case an hour ago.”

  “I’m a case now?”

  “Well, sort of. So the MC gang was called…?”

  I laughed because she truly entertained me – and she was adorable. “It was a gang-gang, and in the past.”

  Then I was curious. “Why would you assume it had anything to do with a motorcycle gang? That’s pretty rare here.”

  “Well, no offense, but you’re white and the ‘ride ‘til I die’ tattoo.”

  “Interesting that you thought it had anything to do with that. Even more interesting that your eyes were all over my waist.”

  The flare of feisty anger crossed her beautiful eyes again, and I decided to give her a break. “I sold my bike two days ago and bought that.” I pointed out the window at the safe-as-shit Volvo.

  “Okay, yes, good,” she said, flustered as hell. “Remember that I’m not the enemy.”

  “But you’re here.”

  “Yes, I’m here to do my job.” She leaned in close, to flirt I hoped, but then she sniffed me. Yes, sniffed me.

  “We have a smoking cessation class – it’s free,” she said, glancing around the room. Of course she was judging me, making assumptions based on what she saw. I’d been around social workers my whole life and I knew it was part of the game.

  “I only smoke outside. Bad habit I picked up in prison.” She had my file so there was no point in hiding my criminal history.

  She nodded. Her cute little button nose had already told her that I didn’t smoke inside.

  “But it’s on your clothes, in your hair. It’s not good for Grace.”

  I took a deep breath and nodded. “Done.”

  “Uh, the class? You’ll go? We also have the gum and the patch to ease—”

  “No, I mean I won’t smoke anymore.”

  She smiled at me like I was crazier than a local gambling on the Strip. “That’s admirable, but hardly anyone succeeds in going cold turkey. Most who try fail.”

  “I’m not most. And I don’t try to do things – I do them.”

  “Oh, um, okay.” She scribbled some meaningless thing in her notebook.

  “What else?” I was an action type of guy, and I needed a clear list of things to get done to keep Grace.

  “What else what?” Her eyebrows sort of knitted together, and I wanted to kiss her. Which is insane, because I don’t kiss women ever. Well, not on their faces at least.

  “What else do I need to do to prove that she should stay with me? Because she should, and she will. So tell me what I need to do to make you believe that.”

  She glanced up from her notes. “Just be ready if anyone else, like my boss, decides to visit.”

  “I’m always ready. You hate your boss, don’t you?”

  She pondered my words for a second, and then decided to move on.

  “I just meant things like your fridge. Make sure that’s ready for inspection at all times. Have more than Bud Light and mayo in there.”

  “I don’t drink, and if I did, it sure as hell wouldn’t be Bud Light. And I wouldn’t eat mayonnaise, ever. No one should.”

  “So you’re a recovering alcoholic. Attending AA?”

  I narrowed my eyes at her. “So if I don’t choose to drink, I must be an alcoholic?”

  “That’s not what I said!”

  I chuckled, loving the fact that I had her on edge. “How much do you drink, Tara?”

  She gulped hard. “This isn’t about me, Shawn.”

  “Shawn,” I repeated.

  “You said I could call you that.”

  “I actually didn’t. I guess you can, but only you – no one else.”

  The blush forming on her cheeks deepened and spread to her cleavage. One glance would have told me they were barely a B cup, and I’d brazenly helped myself to far more than one ogle at her exposed skin. She was clearly not satisfied in the breast department based on the more-padded-than-my-mattress push-up bra that was hoisting them mercilessly toward the ceiling.

  “So do you drink a lot, Tara? And eat mayonnaise?”

  “Let’s move on. I’ll mark down that you don’t drink but they may question why—”

  “Why a thug doesn’t drink?”

  She nodded, clearly tiring of my verbal sparring.

  “I never liked the way I acted when I drank. It blurred my focus.”

  “But drugs, you’ve…” She trailed off as she glanced through the pages and pages that listed my crimes and infractions.

  “Never taken drugs. I’ve sold them to the ridiculous, and those are most of the arrests you’ll see in that file. No good dealer uses the merchandise.”

  “And you’ve left that life for good? Are you sure your association with the…” She flipped through the endless pages once more trying to find the elusive name of my former gang.

  “I swear to you I haven’t done anything with or for the Saints and Sinners since I was released from Ely.”

  Her eyes met mine, causing that yearning again. Desire, I recognized the weak emotion as. “I’ve heard it’s rough there.”

  I didn’t answer, so she continued.

  “And you were at the top, wow.” She flipped a few more pages. “Are you sure there’s no more affiliation with them?”

  “None. I got out clean.” Although, of course, there’s no such thing as getting out of a gang like that clean. Mo Jones, their current leader, was once like a brother to me. Better than a brother, actually. All three of my biological brothers tried to kill me at least once but, as of yet, Mo had not. Every day he tried to get me back in the game, and it was getting harder and harder to resist. The money I made at legit jobs was a fraction of what I made selling heroine.

  “Good for you,” she said like she was my grandmother.

  “Look, my past is fucked up. I get that – but I swear to you, I’m not that guy anymore.”

  “I think you’re dangerous though,” she blurted out in a rare moment of brutal honesty.

  Nodding, I said, “Dangerous as fuck, Tara. But that means Grace is safe with me.”

  “I
bet she’s the only one safe with you, Shawn.” For a split second, I saw it again. Desire, just like mine. Our chemistry was going to be trouble, and we both knew it.

  She glanced at her way-too-expensive watch. “I need to go. I’ll schedule a formal home visit for next week. Be sure to get everything on that list done. With your history, my supervisor will insist on doing the inspection.”

  “Ah, it went from visit to inspection.”

  “I know this sucks, but just remember our mission is to find the best home for Grace.”

  “Find the best home?”

  “Make sure you’re a good home for her, I should have said.”

  She walked to the door, and with one look back, I knew she wasn’t telling me everything.

  “My daughter belongs with me, Tara. And anyone who tries to take her from me will learn just how dangerous I can be.”

  She sighed as she opened the door. “I know…I know.”

  Tara

  “He’s so freaking arrogant!”

  My best friend, Maddie, looked up from her Cosmo. “And yet,” she said with the raise of her perfectly waxed brow.

  “And yet?”

  “And yet, you’ve been talking about him since we sat down.”

  “I’m his daughter’s social worker – it’s just work chat.”

  “Mm hm. What’s he look like?”

  “It doesn’t matter.” With the sticky happy hour menu in my face like a shield, I ignored her snicker. It doesn’t matter, I thought. Those blue eyes looking into my soul like a Great White shark about to eat me for dinner, no that doesn’t matter. The muscles popping out everywhere, nope, doesn’t matter. The way he smelled…

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “It doesn’t matter, Maddie. Do you remember what happened the last time I tried to date?”

  “That was brutal.”

  “This would be worse. Greg took one beat down and ran for the hills. This guy would take Hank on and probably win.”

  “So you do like him then?”

  I took a deep sigh and leaned back in my chair. “There’s wicked strong chemistry, yeah. But it would be hugely unethical, and then if Hank ever found out…”

  “I know you better than anyone, and you’ve got it bad Tara-girl.”

  “It was only an hour.”

  “Then maybe you should go back. Pay an evening visit.”

  My heart pounded and, despite the heat on the patio that afternoon of our favorite bar, a cold sweat formed on the back of my neck. I couldn’t deny that I was desperate to see him again.

  “Well, it’s certainly within the realm of my investigation to drop in unannounced at any time.”

  She smiled wide. “Tell me what he was in jail for again?”

  “You say that like it’s a good thing. And it was prison, for years – not just jail.”

  “I love bad boys.”

  “Well,” I said with a sneer. “I need him to be a good boy.”

  “How about a bad boy who’s a great father? That’s wicked sexy.”

  I had to giggle in agreement. “My asshole boss wants the baby out of the county, so he needs to stay out of trouble for the next few weeks at least.”

  “Clearly you need to watch him. Closely. Every inch of him…”

  Six

  I’ve Broken Hundreds Of Noses

  Mack

  “Do you ever hear from Dawn?” my brother asked as he opened a Bud Light with his teeth. He dared to drop by on the wrong night, his own case of beer in one hand.

  The fucking social worker had only left hours ago, and I was in a super shitty mood. Even worse, I hadn’t had a cigarette since that morning and knew I never would again. It was my one vice, and truth be told, I missed it.

  Andy pushed my buttons every fucking time he was in town, but that night he went too far. “Don’t say her name to me. Not tonight, not ever.”

  My little asshole brother took a long swig of his beer and had the nerve to do it again. “Dawn Matthews, the love of your life, the angel you corrupted, the saint you turned into a drug addict and then–”

  And then I punched him. Not just a brotherly pop – nope, I hit him so hard that my buddy Jake next door probably heard it. And then, as his nose gushed gooey crimson bloody snot all over my table, I hit his punk-ass again just for punctuation.

  “Fuck you!” he howled, his bloody hands cradling his stupid nose.

  I tossed him some stained hand towel. “Want more, little brother?”

  “You broke my nose!” the little bitch moaned.

  “Grow a pair, Andy. It’s not broken.” I should know, mine had been broken three times and would always have a wide, slightly off center look. I didn’t mind; it made me look meaner, which in my mind was a win. “I’ve broken hundreds of noses, yours is fine. But mention her again and I’ll bust more than your fucking nose.”

  “Honestly Bro, you need to let her go. Move on. The kid needs a mother. A real mother, not that drugged out hoe you knocked up.”

  “Yeah well, some social worker was by this afternoon.” I gestured toward the bloody towel in his hands. “Guess she shook me a bit.”

  “I know a guy who works over there. He owes me a few – want me to have him pay her a visit and put the fear of the MacKenzies in her?”

  “Don’t make me hit you again, idiot. We don’t hurt women.”

  “Then maybe he can find some dirt on her, threaten her or whatever.”

  “Did you not fucking hear me? We don’t hurt women – in any way, ever.”

  Grace was waking up, her stirring catching my eye in the monitor. “I gotta feed her, but stay away from the chick, okay?”

  “Yeah, Bro, of course. But you do know that despite tonight’s cranky bloodshed, I’d do anything for you.”

  I didn’t do emotion, so I stood up and walked past him. “If her supervisor gets too out of control, I might need you. But keep it distant – right now I have to be squeaky clean.”

  With Andy gone and Grace fed, bathed, and changed, I did what I did almost every night. I went to work at the Pink Kitty. And like she had since she arrived, Grace went with me.

  “Gimme that baby,” Candi said as soon as we rounded the corner toward my office.

  “Put a top on or she’ll be all over those,” I said, gesturing with a smile toward her enormous boobs.

  “They’d probably spew silicone.” With a quick installation of her barely tied bikini top, she reached for Grace.

  “Such a sweet girl.”

  “The best. So what’s up tonight? Any trouble?”

  “It’s been quiet. There is some weird woman here, though. Out of place most definitely.”

  “Celebrity?”

  “No, but she asked her waitress if you worked here.”

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, and get this – she called you Shawn.”

  “God, no.” But the familiar twitch was there again, and I wanted to see her. My brain screamed this is bad, but my dick said otherwise.

  “Keep her away from smoke, and shoot me a text when you’re ready to go back out.”

  “Will do, Shawn.”

  “Fuck you, Candi.”

  “Maybe later, after our baby girl goes to sleep.”

  I barely ever went out to the main stage area – my work was in the VIP rooms in the back. The bouncers controlled the front.

  As I rounded the corner, I saw her. She was dressed differently than earlier that day – as if she tried to slut it up to blend in at a strip club.

  But she didn’t blend – at all.

  I slid into the chair next to her.

  “I really wouldn’t drink wine here, Ms. Drake.”

  “I thought we were Shawn and Tara?”

  “That wine comes from a box, Tara. The cheapest box they can find wholesale.”

  I took a sip and nearly choked. “It’s not even merlot!”

  “Sam’s Choice Red Blend, I think the mega-box says.”

  She pushed the two-drink minimum dou
ble wines away from her. “What should I order? I don’t really drink anything but wine.”

  “Come to my office with me. I have some better bottles back there.”

  “Oh,” she said, reaching for the hand I’d extended without thinking. “Okay, yeah, but I thought you didn’t drink?”

  “I don’t. They’re for the VIP area – much classier stuff in there.”

  She didn’t let go of my hand, and I was acutely aware of the sensation of touching her again. It was a spark like the time I stuck my curious finger into my bulb-less nightlight when I was a kid.

  “Wait, I ordered boneless buffalo wings.”

  “Did you see that article a few weeks ago about boneless chicken wings?”

  “Did it say that they were freaking delicious?”

  “Well, delicious for sauced up rat meat.”

  “Don’t tell me that sort of thing!”

  I shrugged. “I didn’t say that’s what they used here. Those are frozen, Costco wholesale I think. But seriously, Tara, stop eating crap.”

  “Eating crap is what keeps me from murdering people.”

  “If you must, I’ll have Wendy bring your rat meat back to the back of the house.”

  I tugged at her hand, picturing her naked on the sofa in my office. Twenty naked women all around me, and all I could think of was this social worker.

  “It’s chicken!” she said with a laugh. I was generally a miserable person, but her laugh made me happy. And nothing, other than Grace, tended to make me happy.

  “Rat meat, chicken, same thing. Remind me to feed you the next time you visit.”

  “Maybe I should come by tomorrow?”

  “Maybe you should come by tonight,” I whispered into her ear.

  “Are you trying to butter me up? Because I’m about to bust your ‘nads about bringing a baby to a strip club?”

  “Number one, butter is off limits. Number two, no one says ‘nads anymore. Number three, she’s happy here and I don’t like her away from me.”

  I left Tara sipping much better wine in my office while I went to get Grace. She was out cold in Candi’s arms.