Redeemed: Book Two of the Love Seekers Series

by Maria Vickers

  “No problem.” Hurt and shock were evident in his voice, and when I happened to peek at him, they were written all over his face.

  I was a first rate asshole. “Mark…” My words fell off there and I took a deep breath to try and collect myself. I didn’t think it worked, but I couldn’t exactly back down and run away now. “I’m sorry. This whole thing is fucked up.”

  “Look, I support you trying to teach her a lesson, and I’ll do what I can to help, but I think you might be getting in too deep. What happened?”

  “I…I don’t know. She pissed me off, I took her to my place, she took a shower—”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because we went to the Recovery Room and Kit-Kat is back in town and spilled beer all over our dinner and Rayne.”

  “Ouch.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “So I guess Kit-Kat is just a crazy as ever? I told you when we were twelve that she was psycho.”

  “I know you did and I should have believed you. She tried to cause a bunch of shit, and I called her on her BS. Then she got all pissy and dumped a beer on our nachos.”

  “Buzz makes the best special nachos.”

  “Tell me about it, and I didn’t get to eat a single one because of Kit-Kat’s fucking temper tantrum.” I ran my hand through my hair again in frustration. The more I talked about it, the more irritated I got, but I didn’t want to stop talking. Something inside me urged me on to continue my confession.

  “And then what?”

  “We left, I was pissed off, we went to my place to talk, and I let her use my shower because she smelled like cheap beer.”

  “What happened next?” He had his arms crossed and he was leaning back in his chair, staring at me intently. His expression told me, he was thinking about my predicament.

  Shrugging, I continued. “I went and got her something to wear and a towel and when I came back, she was staring at my mantle.”

  “Why?”

  “I don’t know, but when she came out of the shower and we started to talk, it turns out that her new HR manager was in one of the pics. And guess what? The new manager is in a wheelchair. I don’t remember much of what I said the night I met the woman, but I’m pretty sure I blasted Rayne a time or two once I got some alcohol into my system.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Then what happened?”

  I shook my head. “She started throwing things at my head and when she picked up Granny and Papa’s picture to lob, I saw red. I grabbed her and she felt so good against me as she struggled…things happened from there. She left when she thought I was sleeping and I haven’t heard from her since.”

  His sharp eyes studied me for a moment. He opened his mouth to speak and then immediately shut it.

  “What? Spill it,” I demanded, my anxiety skyrocketing.

  “You sound almost disappointed that she left and didn’t stay the night. Why are you put out that she hasn’t called you? Have you tried calling her?”

  I leaned back in my office chair, focusing on the ceiling. “I called and texted without a response.”

  “And?”

  “What do you mean ‘and?’”

  “I mean, you’re the guy that when he wants something, he always goes after it. So my question to you is, what are you going to do next? Are you going to leave things as they are? Or are you going to push her buttons and fulfill your dastardly plans? However, before you decide, there is a third option available.”

  I looked at him as if he had three heads and had lost his mind. Third option? There were two: leave her alone or follow through. “I think getting married and having a son has drained some of your brain cells.”

  Laughing, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. You could wake up one day and find out that you have feelings for her.”

  His words made me blanch. That sealed the deal for me, Mark had completely lost his mind. If he had to be committed, I’d be the good friend I was and step up to the plate to help out his wife and son. “That is never going to happen.”

  “You say that, but ask yourself why you’re so bothered that she hasn’t called you or returned your text messages. Why are you acting like a girl because she decided to leave after you sexed her up? If you aren’t developing feelings for her, then why are you suddenly not acting like the Chad I’ve known for years?”

  Rolling my eyes, I swiftly moved to sit upright and allowed my incredulous expression to do the talking for me.

  He laughed again—the bastard. “Hear me out. Since you concocted this plan, you haven’t been out with any other girl, haven’t slept with anyone else, and now you’re moping because a girl we both hate walked away. First, it’s Rayne. It cannot surprise you that she would leave you high and dry.”

  Before he could make his next point, I smirked and snorted jokingly. “She actually managed to leave me wrung out, unlike a lot of girls.”

  “I really didn’t need that visual. Second, it’s Rayne. She probably has some sort of agenda for even agreeing to be around you, and honestly, she probably slept with you to mess with your head. And finally, you are better than this. Look, your reputation is well documented. You love the ladies and you act like the world’s biggest player because you think that’s what the women want, and for the most part, it’s exactly what the women you attract do want. However, as your best friend, I understand you more than most. You’re not as big of an asshole as you pretend to be. You do charity work, help your family out when they need it, and you’re a great friend to have. You could have left me way back when because I didn’t belong in the same cliques, but you didn’t. Instead, you remained a great friend throughout the years. So the question remains, what do you want?”

  “I don’t want her,” I stated emphatically. I didn’t…or at least I didn’t want to. “I’m just confused. Something is just bothering me about her and it’s gotten under my skin.”

  “What? She actually confess that Emma wasn’t all that bad as a sister-in-law?” Mark scoffed.

  Shaking my head, I smiled slightly. “No, I’m still working on that.”

  “Then what?” his voice had suddenly turned serious. He knew me and he understood that what I had to say was probably of consequence.

  I hissed out a breath in frustration, trying to figure out how to broach the subject with my closest friend. “Megan said that it was possible that the way Rayne acted was a byproduct of her past.”

  “Yeah, but the rest of her family acts normal and are accepting.”

  “True, but what if something happened to her that didn’t happen to anyone else in her family?”

  “Wouldn’t Bryan be more tolerant of her attitude if that were true?”

  What I had to say next got stuck in my throat. Swallowing hard, I forced it out, “She got really drunk one night and passed out. When I put her to bed, she cried in her sleep.”

  “She was drunk. A lot of drunks do that. You’ve done that a few times yourself, and from what I remember, so has your brother.”

  “We did, and that’s true, but she said something.”

  When I didn’t continue, he threw up is hands in frustration and demanded impatiently, “What?”

  “I just…she cried, ‘please stop.’”

  “Stop what? The room from spinning?”

  “I don’t know. It was like a plea for help.”

  Mark sat there for a minute. “I wouldn’t let it get to you too much. It could have been almost anything.”

  “I have this feeling that it’s more.”

  “Your gut hasn’t failed you before.”

  “I know. That’s why I can’t let it go.”

  He rubbed the palm of his hands on his jeans. “There’s only one thing to do.”

  “What?”

  “You have to confront her.”

  This time when I laughed, all traces of humor were gone. “I don’t foresee that happening any time soon.”

  “Then let it go.” Holding up his hand to
stop anything I was going to say, he told me, “If you refuse to confront her, don’t want to even think about speaking to her about it, you have to let it go. If you don’t, it will keep eating at you.”

  I scowled. He was right, but how did I let something like that go? I sure as hell wasn’t about to confront her.

  “Chad?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Let it go, man. Before you’re in over your head.”

  “You’re right, but there’s more to it,” I spoke quietly.

  “What else could there possibly be?”

  “I told you why we got the job with Justin, right?”

  “Yeah. Rayne fucked up and you got the job by default when you offered it to him while you were training him. Right?”

  “That’s pretty much it, but there’s more to it. Someone in her office is out to make her bleed, and now the new HR manager probably knows who she is and has unfairly judged her—”

  Suddenly, Marks head flew back and he laughed in a loud roar. It took him a few minutes to settle down before he could speak. “You know what this is?”

  “What?”

  “Karma. Fucking karma is finally giving Rayne Sampson her due. And it’s about fucking time. She waltzes around judging people constantly, it’s her turn. Do you know what you need? To go out, find a woman, and get Rayne out of your mind. I think once you start your normal routine again, you’ll feel a lot better and won’t be so worried about the antichrist.”

  For the first time since Friday or Saturday—I wasn’t looking at the damn clock—I felt a little less anxious about it all. Maybe Mark was right. Maybe I only needed to go out and get laid. I had to stop worrying so much about Rayne, and start being more concerned about myself.

  Tonight, Rayne would become a distant memory. I was going to go out, have some fun, find a woman, and enjoy myself. Or maybe I would just call one of the girls whose numbers I kept. Kit-Kat had been right about one thing, I did have a long line of women I could call. If and when I met the right woman, I’d change for her, but not until then. Tonight wasn’t about the rest of my life, it was about satisfaction and forgetting. Whomever I met tonight, would help me purge my soul and make it clean once again.

  Rayne? Rayne who?

  Chapter 27

  Rayne

  M ondays sucked and I needed a bottle of alcohol to drown my sorrows in. If only I could stay on top of things, or if I had seen what was happening right under my nose. I hadn’t though, and now everything was on the verge of toppling over like in that stupid game Jenga.

  This all started with Emma. I hated her. If she hadn’t come along, hadn’t messaged my brother and made him feel sorry for her, then Bryan would still be in San Diego, I would be happy, and my job, as well as my sanity, wouldn’t be in danger of disappearing. All. Her. Fucking. Fault. It had to be, because before her, I had a brother that loved me, Chad left me alone, my emotions didn’t feel jumbled, nor did they confuse me, and on top of all of that, everyone loved me.

  But then she came, and everybody fell in love with her seemingly overnight. They didn’t care that she was disabled. If anything, that got her more sympathy. The pathetic loser made everyone believe she was so good, so angelic, but they didn’t see her the way I did.

  Now I looked over my shoulder everywhere I went, watching my back, on edge and leery of others. I couldn’t say anything wrong in front of Bryan because he sided with her all the time, same with my parents. Hell, even Chad decided to put himself on the line with some grand scheme that would supposedly make me love her.

  Fuck her and everyone else. I didn’t need them. I didn’t. But I liked my job, and because of her, Chad hated me enough to word vomit to my human resources manager about how I treated Emma. Because of her, everyone in the office watched me closely, ready for the moment I would screw up. Regina anxiously awaited the day she took over my job.

  Leaving work today, I needed a drink. I didn’t care that my white dress still had a coffee stain or that I looked haggard and worn. I just needed a drink. At home, I only had wine, but that wouldn’t cut it. I had to have the strong stuff.

  I threw my shit into my car, my purple messenger bag hitting the window hard before it sank into the passenger seat next to my purse. A cursory glance at the glass informed me that I hadn’t broken it, not that it mattered. I didn’t care. Not in that moment.

  Jamming my key into the ignition, I cranked the car harder than necessary, and pulled out of my parking spot so quickly, my back bumper hit the concrete column behind me. It wasn’t hard, but I still felt the impact…and once again, I didn’t care. I would check the damage later. Right now, the office and building suffocated me and I had to break away.

  For the first time since I started my job, I thought about leaving it and finding something new, but searching for a new job terrified me. Not only that, but I loved what I did and the company. A new place with new faces, held no guarantee that I would make as much, or like the people and my position. I had no clue what today’s market held. My mother would tell me that until I tried, I would never know what was available. Actually, Candy Whitney would probably say something like, “Nothing in life is guaranteed, sweetie. Until you start looking, you won’t know what lays before you.” So what? Her wisdom was stupid, and I was fully aware that I sounded like a spoiled child.

  I didn’t know where I was going or what direction I headed. I drove blindly, uncaring about the horns honking or the multitude of traffic laws I broke. I was my own person, and didn’t care who accepted me. I didn’t need anyone in my life. That sounded hollow and wrong, and it was hard to swallow the lie.

  Chad told me once that the world didn’t revolve around me, but the joke was on him. I already knew that, because if it did, I wouldn’t be dealing with a nightmare right now. Everything would be flowing smoothly and without driving me to drink like it did tonight.

  I pulled into the parking lot of some bar. As soon as I stopped my car, I heard the music blaring, felt the bass pumping. Perfect. In there, I wouldn’t be able to hear myself think. I could temporarily forget the bad, drown my sorrows, and maybe pick up a guy who could help me escape from reality for a little longer.

  On the outside, the bar had neon pink, green, and blue lights that reflected off of the white exterior. I didn’t see a name, but rather than a deterrent, it embraced my raw emotional state, calling out and welcoming me. Like the bar, I would have no name tonight.

  It appeared fancy and fixed up, vastly different from The Recovery Room. Here they more than likely served the more expensive drinks, but not a lot of food, and they probably had people dancing to the steady rhythm of the music. Did people dance at The Recovery Room? I never saw it happen.

  Walking up to the tall, bald, dark-skinned bouncer that stood guard at the entrance, I handed him my driver’s license and expected to be allowed in immediately. I wasn’t.

  “Sorry miss, but this is a private club.” His deep bass voice vibrated the air almost as much as the music. He blocked me from getting in.

  His actions pissed me off. “And how do I become a member?” I snidely demanded.

  “You fill out an application and pay a fee,” he said without budging.

  “Fine. Give me the form and I’ll pay the fee.”

  “You don’t even know how much it is.” He chuckled.

  “At this point, I don’t really care.”

  His straight, gleaming white teeth, glowed when he smiled in striking contract to his skin. “Bad night?” He wasn’t ugly, and stood taller than Chad. In fact, Chad would have looked completely deflated next to this guy and his muscles, which were so dark, he reminded me of dark chocolate. Dressed head to toe in black, he appeared imposing and I got the impression not many people gave him trouble.

  “You can say that again,” I mumbled before I could censure myself.

  His eyes moved down my body and back up, but it felt more like he was evaluating me and less in a sexual way. “Go ahead. Tell the bartender with the mustache that Ear
l sent you in.”

  “In?”

  This time when he gave me the once over, I got the distinct impression that he wanted to make sure I wasn’t crazy. “Yeah. Inside the club. Go ahead. Tell the bartender, Jack, that I sent you in.”

  “Uh, thank you.”

  “If you plan on coming back though, make sure you fill out the form online and pay the fee. Most of the time, our new members are introduced through current members.”

  “Is this some sort of sex club or something?” I asked, cringing at my gaffe.

  Thankfully, he laughed and shook his head. “No, not at all. I’m not sure what you’ve been reading, but this ain’t that. It’s a normal club, but we like to know who we let in the door.”

  “Oh…okay.” It still confused me, but I wasn’t going to argue since he was doing me a favor.

  I walked through the door he held open, turned right, and strolled down a slightly darkened hallway toward the call of the musical beats. When I emerged from the blackness, the club was awash in a warm pink glow.

  The bouncer had been right. There were people dressed in normal club gear dancing out on the dance floor that took up almost 2/3 of the space. On the outside of the floor were a few tall tables with bar stools. In the far corner on my left, the DJ stood high above the crowd in a raised platform.

  And to the right of me, taking up the other third of visible space, sat the bar. I could tell which one was Jack immediately. He was also dressed in all black, but where the bouncer wore a tight t-shirt, Jack wore a button up shirt and was slimmer without all of the hulking muscles. He kind of reminded me of Sam Elliot, my mother’s Hollywood crush.

  I started walking toward him, and when I sat down, I could see he looked older. His curly silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail and almost matched his salt and pepper mustache. He was the only one of the three bartenders with any facial hair. Although, if the one female bartender had a mustache, I would have been a little afraid.