Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4)

by Paige P. Horne

  I grab the bottle back from Lips and take a big swallow as the girls begin dancing around me, grinding on my cock and making me forget that my life is shit.

  The night passes in a drunken blur. Some guy that Blondie knows ends up hooking us up with some blow and the shit’s fire. Not Middle East fire, but still, it’s doing the trick.

  I’m fucked off my ass, and after a game of strip poker that ended with the girls naked, I sit on the couch in the private bar area, my head back against the cushions as they take turns blowing me.

  After Bryce had his own fun with Blondie, he called it a night, but I have a feeling I won’t be asleep for quite some time. I grab Blondie’s hair and move her head back so Lips can have a turn. I’ve already figured out she’s better, and as she takes me all the way, choking and dripping spit, I lift my hips and fuck her mouth until my balls tighten and I release with a heavy groan.

  She sucks me empty and I move her away and stand up for another line. Grabbing the rolled hundred on the table, I breathe in and lay my head back, feeling the tingling drain slide down the rear of my throat.

  “Fuck,” I say, tossing the bill back onto the table and standing up. I put my dick in my pants and grab my beer before walking to the two-way mirror, hearing one of the girls snort a line. I look below as the lights blink on and the people begin to exit the club.

  It’s that time of night when everyone leaves with someone else, they go back home to sleeping family members, or watch porn until they pass out drunk with their hand down their pants.

  But everyone has something, ya know?

  Or they used to.

  I should be grateful I’m here.

  But all I am is sorry.

  I run my hand over my head as the cleanup crew starts in. My mind’s a black hole, dark thoughts circling each other like ghosts dancing around and around as the cocaine hotwires my veins.

  Sometimes the simplest things can take me back, like the way the bartender is wiping out the glasses with the white towel. My skin sweats and my throat burns from a white powdery high and I stare at his movements, my mind taking me away from this club to a place that gave me purpose.

  “Fuck, it’s hot,” Rocket says, wiping his brow with an orangish dirt-stained towel. Gunshots zip past us into the trees. I blink, looking ahead as an older man stands in a field all alone.

  Pop, pop, pop. I look over at my staff sergeant as he talks with the Afghan who’s translating for us.

  “They can’t even see what they’re fucking shooting at,” Rocket says beside me, but I can’t take my eyes off the man standing with a smile on his face. He’s in the middle of a war, no weapons, no sides, just him as bullets fly by.

  “What the hell are you looking at?” Rocket asks me. I snap out of it and look back at him.

  “The fuck you think? Look at that man out there.” I point.

  Rocket looks, squinting from the harsh sun. “He’s in a poppy field. He’s probably fucked off heroin.”

  Heroin.

  I think about the woman who gave birth to me. Mary.

  Yeah, fuck her.

  “Jace, come back over here,” Lips says. I lift my brow, blinking away old thoughts. I bring my beer to my lips and turn back to them.

  “Y’all ain’t ready to leave, are ya?” I ask with a smile on my face. It’s fake, but isn’t it always?

  “No, but we’re lonely.”

  I walk over to the radio and turn the music up. “Let’s dance then,” I say, grabbing the almost empty bottle of bourbon. I take a mouthful as they walk over. We’re all three fucked off our asses, but the night is only halfway over and we’re younger today than we will be tomorrow.

  No regrets.

  Chapter Six

  Jace

  I blink my eyes open and peel my face from the couch I finally fell asleep on last night. I’m shirtless and my pants are undone. One of the girls is lying on the floor with my shirt on top of her and the other is sleeping on the pool table.

  I widen my eyes and yawn so hard I pop my jaw.

  I stretch upward, spreading my fingers before reaching over and grabbing my pack of smokes. Lighting one, I stand up, feeling a little light-headed and a lot like shit.

  “Jesus, I’d say that was a good homecoming,” I say to myself as I step over… I look down at the girl sleeping, Lips. I inhale my smoke as I walk over to the bar and grab a water bottle. I chug the thing, place my smoke between my lips, and button and zip up my jeans.

  I look over when the door opens to Bryce’s loft.

  He’s in a sweaty gray shirt and black basketball shorts.

  “What’s up?” I lift my chin at him.

  He looks around at the situation and shakes his head. “I didn’t think you’d be here,” he says.

  Walking over, I grab my shirt off of Lips and remove my smoke before I slide it over my head. She stirs, naked, her nipples growing hard from the cold.

  “Yeah, I’m used to getting up early.”

  “You look like shit,” he says, holding on to the door.

  “And you smell like shit,” I reply with a grin.

  He chuckles. “You can’t smell me from over there. What are your plans for today?”

  “Thought I’d go out to Grant Ranch, see the family for a bit.”

  My brother nods. “All right. I’ve got some work to do here. Maybe we can do dinner when you get back?”

  “Don’t you have men who take care of this shit here?” I ask him.

  “I still like to know what the fuck is going on. Especially in the basement.”

  I shrug. “Makes sense.”

  “Call me when you get back,” he says, hitting the door lightly.

  My brother owns an illegal gambling operation under this club. He started it up a little while after Red became successful. Anything you want to gamble on, you can right here. It’s pretty badass and a whole lot of fun. Last night, I lost a couple hundred, but then won it back before the girls and I decided to come up and play some private strip poker.

  “Yeah,” I reply, looking for my phone and then remembering I put it in my pocket.

  “You want a ride?” he asks me.

  “Nah, I’ll call an Uber. You go take a shower.”

  “Fuck you,” he says before he shuts the door.

  I laugh and nudge Lips with my feet. “Hey,” I say down to her. “You two should get going.”

  ____________

  The Uber ride is painful, the sun doing nothing for my head. I stare out the tinted window as we pass through downtown. I’m glad this guy isn’t a talker ’cause that’s the last thing I feel like doing. I’m rethinking heading out to the ranch, but I know if I don’t get my ass out there, Pops won’t be happy, and neither will Emily.

  Emily is Pops’ girlfriend. The day Bryce and I got into that bad car wreck because our mother’s a fucking psycho, Lee, aka Pops, found us. He and his brother Monnie were out hunting that morning. They got us to the hospital, and when Mary, aka our mom, decided she didn’t want us anymore, Lee adopted us. Bryce was thirteen; I was seven. I haven’t heard from the woman since, and I don’t care to.

  She did nothing for us but kill our father and choose heroin over her family continuously. We’re better off. I’m not sure when she decided to be a shitty person, but Bryce tells me it was when she had my twin sister and me. My twin sister died at birth, and I was left. Our mom couldn’t handle her death and couldn’t be happy enough that she at least had my brother and me.

  So, I say fuck her.

  Anyway, Emily’s been there since day one. She’s the mother we never had. She and our aunt Lou, who is Monnie’s wife.

  I quickly sit up when we stop at a red light and I see the woman from the grocery store. She’s got headphones in her ears and she’s running down Peachtree. Strands of red stand out in her hair from the sun. She stops at the crosswalk, jogging in place. She can’t see me, but I see her.

  Damn, do I see her…

  She has eyeglasses on this time and freckles
cover her nose, splashing across her cheeks. She tilts her head to the side, popping her neck.

  She’s gorgeous.

  In a simple way.

  Our light turns green and the driver hits the gas. I watch her, and I swear for a split second we make eye contact as I pass by.

  That’s twice in two days. What are the odds?

  ___________

  After I get home, I pop some headache meds and down a Gatorade, letting out a ridiculous burp before lighting a smoke and heading for the shower. I rub one out, thinking about freckles and green eyes.

  When I’m done, I exit and rub my hand across the fogged mirror. My brother’s right. I do look like shit, but it’s nothing a small line of blow won’t fix. Well, it’ll fix how I feel, maybe not how I look. But when I feel good, I won’t give a shit how I look.

  I wrap a towel around my waist and head back into the bedroom. I grab my jeans from last night and reach inside the pocket. I feel the baggy against my fingers and pull it out, dropping my pants back onto the floor.

  I break out a few lines and vacuum them up with a rolled-up bill. With my towel around my waist, I spray myself with cologne before walking back into the bathroom. I run my hand over my face, and even though I’m rocking a five o’clock shadow, I decide to skip shaving. I brush my teeth before heading to the kitchen. Flipping the TV on so I can hear the news, I spot my soft pack sitting on the counter.

  I sniff and bounce my shoulders, loving the way the cocaine slides down my throat and makes me feel so, so much better. I light a smoke, thinking a beer would be nice. Who cares if it’s early? It’ll help balance me out.

  I twist the cap off one and lean back against the fridge, removing my smoke from my lips before I down the beer.

  “Fuck, that’s better.” I rub my nose and remove the towel as I walk to the dryer. I pull out a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Warm cotton stretches when I pull it over my head, and after I slide my jeans and shoes on, I grab my keys and slip my phone into my pocket before I exit the apartment.

  ____________

  The drive to the ranch is not the shortest one, but it’s some time to get my head right before I see my family. I think about the girl with tiny freckles across her face and her pulled back hair.

  The way she jogged in place at the crosswalk, headphones placed in her ears, mind in her own world. I’m trying to understand why she’s got my attention. We haven’t even spoken and she’s far from my type. It confuses me, so I shake it off and hit the gas, speeding down the highway, listening to some music as I try to fade back into society.

  I pull into the drive, riding under the entrance gates that reads Grant Ranch in big iron letters. I follow down in my truck, flying past horses and more land than any one person needs.

  Pops is far from lower class. We got lucky when he found us in the woods that day. We came from white trash. Dirt poor. I still remember the sharp pang of hunger in my belly. Bryce looked out for me, even though I could tell he hated everything about his life.

  And taking care of me was up on his list. Sometimes I try to put myself in his shoes. He was just a boy, taking care of another, but he was all I had, and as soon as we moved here, he checked out. I know we’ve got Pops and Emily, Lou and Monnie, but my brother is my only blood.

  He’s my world and he left me behind so quickly.

  Years in the Army have taught me one thing: brotherhood is forever. You don’t leave, you don’t give up on the other person, and I saw “lost cause” in his eyes when he picked me up at the airport.

  It’s almost as if he’s been expecting me to fail.

  Well, I failed.

  Fuck, did I fail.

  Chapter Seven

  Jace

  The Better Homes and Garden farmhouse comes into view and so do Doc and Holliday, Pops’ Great Danes. They barrel off the porch, barking like crazy up to my truck. I roll the window down and reach my hand out when they jump up, their paws resting on the edge. They lick my fingers and make whimpering noises, and it’s nice that they’ve missed me.

  “Move, boys,” I say. I open the door, and as soon as I do, they jump on me. I notice a ball where the driveway meets the yard. Dodging them, I run over and pick it up. This makes them go even crazier. I laugh as I toss the ball as far as I can. It bounces once and they take off.

  “They missed you,” I hear and turn to see Emily standing by my truck. I sniff and give her a Jace smile. It’s all boy and just for her.

  “Don’t just stand there. Give me a hug,” she says, wearing a faded blue shirt. Her jeans are whitewashed, and her boots are worn. Emily works hard out here tending to the horses, the ranch hands, and Pops. I walk over and lift her up.

  “Damn, it’s good to see you,” I say to her. I breathe her in, that comforting smell of home, and it’s then I realize just how long I’ve been gone.

  Years.

  Hundreds of days and hours away from this place.

  This is where I grew up. I was just a kid when our dad died in that car accident. I was sad for a little while about that, but I had my brother and that’s all that mattered to me. I was glad we were getting a new place to live. We got lucky it was here.

  Sometimes I could see that Bryce was missing something. I don’t know what… maybe it’s because he got to know our parents more than I did, maybe he got to witness a side of them that I never got. All I saw were two people who were selfish and self-absorbed in their own shit.

  I didn’t see them as parents. I only saw a broken man and a drugged-out woman who never showed me any affection. I saw two people who picked something else over their kids.

  Love and heroin.

  Both of them can kill a person, just in two different ways.

  And as far as I’m concerned, it did.

  Emily breaks away from my hug, but not before I give her a big kiss on the cheek. She laughs. “Put me down, Jace Grant,” she says playfully. I do so and she looks me over, narrowing her eyes slightly.

  A flash of guilt bounces off my chest cavity. She knows I’m high. The cocaine is still buzzing in my system. The drive didn’t give me enough time unfortunately.

  “Where’s Pops?” I ask, trying to get her attention on something else.

  “He’s out at the barn, working on that old ass tractor.”

  “He still hasn’t bought a new one?” I ask.

  She chuckles. “Nah, you know him. He’s not one to give up on something just because it’s got a little age on it.”

  We both head out to the barn. Dirt compacts below my boots as we walk, and it reminds me that only a short time ago I was fighting for our country. I may live life with no regrets, but damn, do I wish I wouldn’t have been such a fuck-up in that aspect of my life.

  “He’s going to have some things to say, you know,” Emily says, breaking me away from my thoughts.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “I’m sure he does.”

  Bryce and Pops always had a relationship that I never did. They had an understanding, if you will. Bryce became reckless when we moved here. It was like he was a wild animal that had been stuck in his cage for far too long, and once we got here, the door was opened and he stormed out with fury.

  Pops got him into boxing so he’d have somewhere to focus that anger he had bottled up inside of him.

  I became the kid in the background. Not that Pops and I didn’t have our own small moments, but it wasn’t the same. So, I started being the funny one. I’d crack jokes to get their attention instead of coming home drunk like my brother did. Still, the focus was always on him.

  It’s cool.

  It’s in the past.

  I guess now I’m making up for lost time.

  Bryce fucked up when he was a teenager; I’m fucking up as an adult.

  We enter the barn, and the smell of hay and horses fills my nose, taking me back to a little boy with dirty fingernails and messy hair, running through here as my brother chased me for my amusement.

  Pops looks over at us as Doc and Holliday come in b
ehind. Doc drops the ball and Holliday quickly picks it up.

  Pops stands up right and wipes his hands off with a dirty old grease rag. He’s aged since I left. I’ve seen him a handful of times, but it’s been a while, and there are more wrinkles and gray hair. But this man is a gem. He’s one of the rare ones.

  Hell, he took in two boys who were far from babies and were broken.

  I sigh internally.

  Still broken.

  “Son, it’s damn good to have you home,” he says, walking over to me. I smile and we embrace. Pops doesn’t hug often, so it’s something when he does.

  He pulls back and I look over at Emily, who never cries, but there’s gloss in her eyes.

  Calm down, guys. I rub my nose and clear my throat.

  “We were worried constantly,” she says. “Especially when we heard about the bom—”

  “Ah, you know me,” I interrupt her. “I’m a survivor.”

  She nods. “Yeah, you are. I’m sorry about the rest,” she says. “I know it had to be hard for you.”

  I nod as I try not to think about that shit. I look over at the tractor. “Got it fixed?” I ask Pops. “I learned a little from the mechanic we had. I could take a look at it.”

  He nods. “Yeah, that’d be good.”

  “Well, I’ll go fix us all some lunch while you two catch up,” Emily says as she starts to walk off. She whistles for the dogs to follow her and they do.

  “How long you been back?” Pops asks.

  “I got in yesterday,” I reply.

  “Oh. Glad you came on out.” He looks surprised that I did, and I hate that. I care about them. I just needed to go, and that’s nothing to do with them. It was my shit. “Yeah,” I say. “Of course.”

  Pops leans back against the barn wall as I take a look at the tractor. I turn the key. It starts but then dies after a moment.