Redemptive (Combative Trilogy #2)

by Jay McLean

  And there it was.

  A fishing boat had found Pauly’s body.

  No more than five minutes later, Tiny called again. I didn’t bother answering; I just opened the door for him. “I just saw,” I told him.

  “You know what that means, right?” he said, stepping into my house.

  It was a Sunday, and it was early. Way too early for me to be thinking straight. Luckily, Tiny didn’t work off a clock. He worked off my schedule, which was why I paid him more than I paid myself. “I’m still wrapping my head around it.”

  “They only found one body, Nate. You told Benny you’d dumped them both.”

  Bailey’s bedroom door opened, and she stepped out, her features softening when she saw Tiny. She asked him, “Can I talk to you?”

  He nodded.

  “In private?”

  I crossed my arms. Whatever she needed to say should be said in front of me. It was my fucking house she was living in.

  Tiny must have sensed my disapproval because he said, “There are no secrets here.”

  Her face fell, her frown was all-consuming. She switched her weight from one foot to the other while seeming to contemplate. After a moment of silence, she said, “I have my period. I need stuff.”

  I headed for my room. “Give Tiny a list of what you need. We’ll take care of it. When we get back, we need to talk.”

  *

  “You ever wonder what she does during the day?” I asked Tiny as he picked up a box of what I assumed were tampons.

  “Obviously you do. You also have surveillance cameras set up throughout the house. You could always spy.” He shrugged. “Anyway, it’s a Sunday. Day of rest. Why don’t you spend the day at home and find out,” he mumbled, distracted by the box.

  Bailey didn’t have much on her list. Pads, tampons, socks and underwear. That was it.

  Tiny’s eyes moved from left to right as he skimmed the words on the box of tampons. “How is this a sixteen pack?” He lowered the box to his crotch as if comparing the size of the tampons to his cock.

  I shook my head at him. “You’re such a dick.”

  He looked around the store and called out, “Yo!”

  A girl packing shelves a few feet away looked up.

  “Can you help with these?” Tiny asked.

  The girl stood from her squatting position and made her way over.

  Tiny asked, “How does this work? Will this fill her?”

  “It’s not—” The girl’s face contorted into a look of disgust. “The sizes are based on flow.”

  “Flow?” Tiny asked, clearly confused.

  “Maybe you should just get her one of each, just to be safe.”

  “They come in singles?” he asked.

  “No.” She shook her head and picked up three different boxes off the shelf. “That should do her.”

  “She said I needed to get pads, too.”

  The girl grabbed a few different packets and handed them all to him. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  She started to walk away, but Tiny yelled out, “Do these have an expiration date?”

  “No,” the girl said, becoming impatient with his lack of knowledge.

  “Can I buy a carton of each?”

  “What?”

  Tiny shrugged. “She doesn’t get out much.”

  “Whatever. Meet me at the registers.” She walked away, mumbling something about feeling sorry for his girlfriend.

  *

  “What the hell are we doing in here?” I asked Tiny, my eyes scanning the skimpy outfits inside the lingerie store.

  “She said she needed underwear.”

  “Surely we could just buy a bulk pack and move on.”

  Tiny shrugged. “I don’t know, Boss. She’s had a shitty life, and it’s only gonna get shittier. She deserves to have at least one nice thing.”

  The girl behind the register looked us up and down as we approached, clearly confused by our presence. Tiny stood straighter when we got to the glass counter and tapped his knuckles twice on it. “We need underwear,” he announced, like he was the king of fucking Scotland.

  The girl raised her perfectly manicured eyebrows and flicked her fake blonde hair away from her eyes. “For your mom?” she asked him.

  I cleared my throat before Tiny could respond.

  Her eyes darted to mine, a slight smile forming on her bright pink lips. She said, “Maybe you should try Target?”

  “You’re a bitch,” Tiny mumbled.

  She gasped.

  I pulled out my money clip and dropped it on the counter. “Just give us whatever that will buy.”

  The girl’s eyes widened when she saw the wad of cash. She hesitated to pick it up like she somehow knew it was drug money. Her scowl turned to a smirk as she started to count it. “There’s almost three grand here,” she whispered. Her gaze lifted, her smile had become huge. “Size?”

  “I don’t know. Small?”

  She rolled her eyes.

  Tiny spoke up. “Size four in underwear—” He looked over at me. “What bra size?”

  “How the fuck should I know?”

  He released a chuckle. “32C.”

  It was my turn to scowl. “How the fuck do you know?”

  He shrugged. “I asked her.”

  “Oh.”

  “What?” he said, shooing the clerk away with his hand. “You think I’d just somehow guessed? I’m not you, Nate. I don’t stare at her tits all day.”

  “Fuck off.”

  Bailey

  Nate and Tiny returned a couple of hours later with cartons of tampons and pads and bags upon bags of socks and underwear. I started to ask why they’d bought so much when Tiny cut me off. “Boss has some news he needs to share. That’ll explain the quantity.”

  I looked at Nate quickly, but he was busy on his phone. Avoiding eye contact with either of them, I excused myself to the bathroom and took care of business. When I opened the door, Nate was standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. Instinctively, my gaze dropped. I sensed him move closer, and when I looked up, his hands were above his head, gripping the top of the doorframe. His biceps flexed against the sleeves of his T-shirt, making him more intimidating. I waited for him to break the stare, but he didn’t, and the longer he stood there looking at me, the smaller I felt.

  “What—” My voice cracked. I cleared it and tried again. “What are you doing?”

  He quirked an eyebrow, his head tilting to the side. Then he did the worst thing possible; he stepped closer, forcing me to take a step back.

  I held my breath, not wanting to show how he made me feel. “Where’s Tiny?” I squeaked out, looking over his shoulder.

  “Gone.”

  “Gone?”

  He nodded.

  I nodded back.

  He sighed.

  I released the breath.

  “We need to talk, Bailey.”

  “Here?”

  “You can’t ignore me this way.”

  I averted my gaze. “It’s kind of impossible to ignore you when I’m staying at your house.”

  “Yet somehow you still manage to do it.”

  He had me there. Though I wasn’t ignoring him, I was avoiding him. There was a difference.

  I kept my mouth shut.

  “Bailey.” He sighed again while he leaned back against the door, shoving his hands in his pocket as he dipped his head. Then he peered up at me through his lashes. “Have I done something to make you afraid of me because—”

  “You mean besides holding a gun to my head?”

  His eyes met mine.

  I rested on the edge of the counter, balling my fists at my sides.

  “So you are afraid of me?” he asked.

  “Yes. No. Maybe.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted and he bit down on his bottom lip, trying to cover his smile. But he was too late, I’d already succumbed to the full effect of it. “So…” he said, pulling a hand out of his pocket and running it through his hair. �
�You’re kind of, yet not, but maybe afraid of me?”

  I’m glad he found it amusing because I sure as hell didn’t. I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out. I knew what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him the truth, but I didn’t know how. “I’m just waiting.”

  “Waiting?”

  I eyed him quickly, before looking away again. “I’m just waiting for you to tell me that it’s time to leave. And also…” I trailed off.

  “Also what?”

  I shrugged. “I’m waiting for you to make me pay.”

  “Pay?”

  “For my debt to you… for not killing me. And for giving me a roof over my head and feeding me and…”

  “You don’t owe me shit,” he said, tone clipped. He stepped closer to me, so close I could smell him.

  I stood straighter, my fingers gripping the counter behind me. Raising my chin, I said, “Nothing in this world comes for nothing. I’m just waiting for you to tell me what you want.”

  “I don’t want anything from you.”

  “Maybe I do,” I said. “Maybe I need to have a reason for you being so kind to me. For giving me all of this… so just tell me what it is you want.”

  His eyes narrowed. “What is it you think I want from you, Bailey?”

  “Sex. Isn’t that what all guys want?”

  He stayed silent, shaking his head at me. He looked pissed, and I had no idea why. Without responding, he turned on his heels and left the room, slamming the door behind him.

  The tension left me as soon as he was gone.

  But I knew it wasn’t over.

  He was angry.

  I was avoiding.

  There was no way it could end well.

  11

  Bailey

  I tossed and turned in bed for what felt like hours, although I had no real clue. There were no clocks in the house. This I realized after looking through every room in the entire house. Including the one bedroom that looked like it hadn’t been touched in years. The house was big, bigger than the one I’d grown up in, with open kitchen and living areas. There were three bedrooms, all connected via a hallway that came off from the living room. The décor seemed old, at least from what I could tell, and definitely nothing like what I’d expect a guy like Nate to live in. But it was comfortable, homey even.

  With a sigh, I kicked off the sheets and finally succumbed to the guilt I felt from our earlier conversation. I got up and knocked on his bedroom door, and waited for a response. When it didn’t come, I knocked again.

  I heard shuffling on the other side, and then footsteps approaching, and when he opened the door, I took a step back, my eyes locked on his bare chest.

  “What’s up?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

  “Were you sleeping?” My gaze trailed down his chest to each individual dip of his abs. His sweats hung low on his hips; the band of his boxers visible. Then I did what I always did when I got nervous or scared; I started counting. My eyes moving from one outlined muscle to the other.

  I got to four before he said, “Bailey?”

  My eyes darted to his.

  “Is everything okay?”

  I nodded, my mouth dry.

  “You know it’s three in the morning, right?”

  “Sorry.” I turned and started to leave when he caught my arm.

  “No. It’s fine. Are you okay? Do you need something?”

  I faced him and kept my head lowered, trying to hide the heat in my cheeks. “It’s just that earlier, Tiny said you had something to tell me?” He didn’t respond, and when I finally looked up, his eyes were fixed on his hand on my arm. “Nate? Or should I call you Boss?”

  “Nate’s fine,” he said, distracted. He blinked once, finally coming to, and released his hold. He used the same hand to comb through his hair. “I had to tell you that…” he trailed off, going back to his room and sitting on the bed, motioning for me to sit next to him. The room was dark, the only light source coming from a lamp at the end of the hallway. “Actually,” he said, “before we talk about that, I wanted to speak to you about something else.”

  I gripped the edge of his mattress and fought to keep my adrenaline in check. Given my past, I wasn’t a huge fan of sitting in dark rooms with strangers. “Can you turn a light on? I don’t—”

  “Sure,” he cut in, reaching over and switching on a lamp on his nightstand. When he turned to me, his eyes were so piercing I had to look away. But where I looked wasn’t much better. “And maybe put on a shirt?”

  “It’s like a hundred degrees,” he said with a sigh.

  “Oh yeah…”

  He turned his entire body to face me. “I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I hate that you’d think that I’d want that from you. I’m not like that, Bailey.”

  I held my breath as he continued to speak. “I get you’ve had a shitty life, and you’ve probably been let down by a lot of people you trusted. But you saying that—well, it made me feel like shit, to be honest. You kind of put me in the same category as Pauly and PJ.”

  I choked on a gasp, my eyes closing as my heart beat out of my chest. “I’m sorry,” I struggled to say through the sob trying to escape. I pushed it down like I always did, and opened my eyes to see him watching me intently. “I know you’re not like them at all.”

  “Good,” he said, nodding slowly. “I’m glad you know that, and I need you to remember that because you’re going to be here a while and you and me—we can’t live like this—you in fear of me, and me not knowing how to be around you.”

  I returned his nod.

  He looked down and blew out a breath. “Someone found Pauly’s body, Bailey.”

  “And they know it was me?” I rushed out, panic clear in my voice.

  “No,” he said quickly, placing a hand on my bare leg.

  I tensed beneath his touch, but if he noticed, he didn’t show it.

  “No, that’s not what our problem is.”

  “So what’s wrong then?”

  He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “The problem is they only found one body. I’d told some very important people that you were there with him. Unless, through some miracle, there’s a dead girl your age matching your description down there… people are just going to get more suspicious.”

  “So I have to hide for longer?”

  “Yeah. We kind of both do, Bailey. Because it’s not just you they’re after now. PJ, the rest of the guys, they’re already questioning me. It’s just going to get worse. They’re sitting back, watching me, waiting for me to fuck up so they can prove you’re still alive. It’s not just about killing you for taking Pauly’s life anymore… now it’s about family, and integrity, and honor. And the fact that I didn’t give a shit about any of those things when I decided not to—”

  “Kill me?” I finished for him.

  Licking his lips, he nodded slowly.

  A million thoughts raced through my head.

  He stood up and leaned on the wall opposite me, then ran his thumb along his bottom lip. “The entire situation’s fucked up.” His gaze dropped to the floor.

  Mine did the same.

  Seconds of silence passed.

  “I don’t know what to do,” he finally said.

  I didn’t either.

  “I always know what to do,” he mumbled, but he wasn’t talking to me.

  “We could—” I started, but cut myself off when I realized how stupid I’d sound.

  “We could what, Bailey?”

  I felt him approach and the next moment, he was sitting next to me, his bare arm brushing mine.

  I turned to him. “Maybe we could get to know each other a little bit? That way it might not be so awkward when we’re around each other.”

  He smiled, and my stomach flipped in response. “That could work.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile,” I blurted.

  He arched an eyebrow.

  I looked away.

  “I should go,” I told him, standing up. “I didn’t realize
it was so late when I came in, and I’m sure you’re tired.”

  He shook his head, his eyes wide as he looked up at me. “I’m wired now. I must’ve fallen asleep early.” He reached over for his phone on the nightstand.

  “You know you don’t have any clocks in the house,” I told him.

  His gaze trailed back to mine. “I don’t?”

  I shook my head. “I’ve searched every room in the house, and I can’t find a way to tell the time.”

  He froze, his face pale and his eyes narrowed. “Every room?”

  I nodded slowly, afraid I’d done something wrong.

  “Including the one at the end of the hallway?”

  I nodded again. “I’m sorry,” I said, but it came out a question.

  He set his phone back on the nightstand and lay down on top of the covers. I watched him for a few seconds as he stared up at the ceiling, his bare chest rising and falling. “Don’t go in there again, Bailey.” Even though his voice was quiet, I heard the threat in his words.

  “Okay,” I whispered, stepping toward the door.

  “Where are you going?”

  “To let you sleep.”

  He moved his hands behind his head, his eyes never leaving the ceiling. “Are you tired?”

  I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. “Not really.”

  He sat up and moved until his back rested on the headboard. “What happened to you, Bailey?”

  With a nervous swallow, I asked, “What do you mean?”

  “How did you end up where you were that night? I don’t just mean in the field, I mean in your life, Bailey.”

  “It’s a long story, Nate.”

  He pushed off the headboard and motioned for me to sit back down. “I have all night.”

  I sat down at the foot of the bed, facing him with my legs crossed.

  “So?”

  “Before I tell you, can I ask you a question first?”

  “Sure,” he said, moving closer and copying my seated position.

  “Do you use what you sell?”

  His eyes seemed to widen slightly, surprised at my question. “No. I mean, I have in the past, mainly to test, but I don’t make a habit of it.”

  “Good.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t like them. Drugs. I don’t like what they do to people and how they can change someone.”