Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4)

by Paige P. Horne

  An illegal gambling operation?

  So what?

  There are more important things going on in the world. I sigh, sit up, and turn my computer on as I slide my glasses over my eyes.

  Chapter Nine

  Harlow

  The office is half-empty now. An empty coffee cup sits on my desk with dried-up honey caked on the bottom. I scrub down my face, lean back in my chair, and twist toward the windows. The city skyline twinkles in the night. I could use a glass of wine and a neck massage. I rub my nape and roll my head.

  “I could get that for ya,” I hear.

  I roll my eyes immediately. “Bye, Miller.”

  I hear him laugh, but I don’t bother turning around. I exhale, dropping my hands in my lap.

  I’ve worked on some of my other cases, even though Davy told me to make this new one my priority.

  It’s a shit job, and he knows it. I mean, I guess it’s not completely shit, but it’s not what I want to focus my time on.

  I have read through the file, realizing they don’t really have a whole lot to go on here.

  This man, Bryce Grant, was adopted when he was thirteen, but they don’t know what happened to his parents. He has a brother named Jace. I know that the two weren’t separated.

  He lives here in Atlanta and his adopted father owns a ranch up north. He has no social life that I see, even though he owns the most successful club in downtown Atlanta.

  I remove my black-framed glasses and rub my eyes. It seems I have a lot to find out. I guess I’ll visit this club and see what the fuss is about. I’m not a club going kind of girl. I’m more of a glass of wine, watching-the-game type of chick, but I gotta do what I gotta do at this point.

  Stupid fucking case. Why couldn’t Monroe get it? I turn around, shut the folder, reach up, and shut my computer off before I stand. I grab my blazer from the back of my chair and slide my arms through the sleeves.

  “Calling it a night?” Monroe asks. He’s a tall, slender man and is on date number two this month with a chick he met at the sports bar we all sometimes go to after work.

  “Yeah,” I reply as I grab my keys, phone, and the folder I wish I could make disappear.

  I walk over and lean against his desk. He looks up at me. I cross my arms, gnawing on my inner cheek, wondering if should try to get him to focus on this case. If he can take the lead, and we not tell Davy, then I could continue working on the ones I already have.

  It’s a shit idea. Davy would find out and have my ass.

  “Can I help you with something?” Monroe asks.

  I push off the desk, hitting it with my folder before saying, “Nah. See you tomorrow.”

  “Night,” he replies.

  After I head down, I hop into my car, the lights illuminating the car garage when I turn the key. I put it in drive and head home.

  __________

  I push my key into the lock and open the door to my apartment. Removing my gun and badge, I place them onto the table before slipping off my shoes and rubbing the bottoms of my feet.

  “Slim Jim,” I call out, wondering where my fluffy cat is. I hear a meow, and he comes pitter-pattering around the corner. He rubs his body against my leg, and I reach down and lift him up, snuggling against his fur. “Hungry, big boy?”

  We walk to the kitchen before I place him on the floor and reach into the cabinet for his food. I grab the can opener from the drawer and open the top.

  “Today was crappy. I’m on a new case I have no passion for. Some big-time is doing dumb shit and I have to change my whole life to bust him before I can get back to the things I really care about. And we both know what that is, don’t we, Slim?”

  I set the can down onto the floor and rub his head as he begins to eat. With a groan I stand back up and walk over to the fridge.

  Grabbing the wine bottle, I kick the door shut, step over Slim, and reach for a glass. I take a spoon from the dish drain and my jar of peanut butter from the counter.

  Walking into the living room, I place everything onto the table before removing my blazer. I stretch my arms back, untuck my blouse, and reach for the wine opener from the coffee table that I never took back to the kitchen the night before.

  I pop the cork, fill my glass, and plop down onto the sofa. Reaching for the peanut butter, I twist the top off and dip my spoon in before bringing it to my mouth.

  I hold my wine glass, circling the contents. I turn my head and my eyes go to the wall near my window. With my spoon still in my mouth, my eyes scan over it.

  Thumbtacks hold pictures in place. Newspaper clippings, photos taken at gas stations. Rows and rows of a man with a blue baseball hat driving a red truck and a girl sitting in the passenger seat.

  Articles read Local Girl Stolen from Home in the Middle of the Night.

  After Three Years, the Search is off for the Dalton Girl.

  It’s Been Five Years Since the Dalton Girl Went Missing.

  It’s Been Fifteen Years. What Really Happened to Chloe Dalton?

  I slide the peanut butter off the spoon with my tongue before removing the spoon.

  Some would say I am a bit obsessed.

  Maybe I am.

  Some say she has to be dead.

  I say they’re wrong.

  She’s alive and one day I will find her.

  And when I do, I will put a bullet through his head.

  __________

  I wake in the middle of the night with my head foggy from too much wine. I slide my hand across the bed and feel a body. My eyes fly open in a panic and then I remember I called Malcom.

  Shit.

  He fell asleep.

  “Hey,” I say, giving him a little shove. He stirs as I sit up. “You fell asleep.” I toss the covers off before my feet touch the floor.

  “Shit,” he says. “Sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” I yawn as I head for the bathroom. “You should get going, though.” I shut the door behind me before I slide my panties down and sit on the toilet. I do my business, flush, and wash my hands.

  Malcom’s buttoning his jeans when I walk back in. He puts his shirt on, not bothering to button it. Malcom is seriously hot. With dark skin and baby blue eyes, he could be a model. He’s both gorgeous and a good lay.

  “See ya,” he says, grabbing his phone from the table.

  “Have a good night,” I reply, climbing back into the bed. “Lock the door.”

  “On my way out, I know,” he says. I nod and shut my eyes, letting sleep drown me again.

  Snow flurries float in my bedroom, drifting aimlessly in the dark. My eyes search the room in confusion. Why is it snowing in here?

  “Harlow,” I hear. I tell my body to sit up, but it stays glued to the bed. My comforter seems to pull tighter, locking me in place. I look to the window and see the outline of a person.

  “You’ll never find me,” he whispers. He tosses a body out of the open window before jumping out after it.

  No, no, no. I try to shake my head and beg my body to get up.

  “Harlow, help!” I hear.

  My mouth flies open and a deafening scream rushes out from my lungs. I wake, thrashing in the bed, the covers all on the floor.

  I sit up quickly, my lungs taking in air too fast. I’m choking. Tears wet my cheeks and I grip my tank top. I focus on the present.

  “Goddammit,” I say, shaking my head. Slim Jim jumps up onto the bed, rubbing his head against my arm.

  “I’d say I was okay, Slim, but I’m not sure anymore.”

  I wipe my forehead and get up. The clock reads four-thirty, but I’m not sleeping anymore after that. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and slide on some leggings and a tank top before grabbing my phone and earbuds.

  I lock the door behind me and head down to the street to run.

  Chapter Ten

  Jace

  It’s early morning. I’m walking in from my run and about to jump into the shower when I answer my phone.

  “Yo,” I say, holding it between my e
ar and shoulder as I walk to the fridge.

  “Let’s head out to the ranch. One of my horses has strangles and I haven’t been out there in a while,” Bryce tells me.

  I just went out there, but what the fuck else am I doing today?

  “Sounds good. You picking me up, or do I need to drive over?”

  “I’ll grab you. Be ready in ten.”

  “Okay,” I say. I toss the phone onto the counter, twist the top off a Gatorade, and chug it before heading for the shower.

  ___________

  I open the car door and slide onto the leather seats. Bryce has the air on blast and the Avett Brothers on the radio. I sit up and remove my smokes from my pocket, putting them into the cup holder as Bryce heads out into Atlanta traffic.

  “I haven’t had a coffee yet. I saw this cool little coffee shop in Little Five Points. Let’s stop in and grab one.”

  “I’m ready to get out there,” he says to me.

  “Man, stopping for a coffee isn’t going to hurt anything.”

  “Fine,” he says, changing gears.

  I lift my hat up a tad and look out the window.

  “You decide what you’re going to get into?” Bryce asks me as the sun dances across the dash.

  “Haven’t really thought about it,” I say, looking over at him. “I kinda like not having shit to do right now.”

  He looks over at me. “So, you just gonna stay fucked up and drunk for the rest of your life?”

  “What’s wrong with that?” I ask him with a smirk. He rolls his eyes.

  “You need to find something to do. You can’t continue like this. It’s been a week since you’ve been home and you’ve done nothing but get fucked up.”

  “Don’t start,” I say as he turns onto Moreland Avenue. We pass the Vortex and I point up ahead. “It’s right over there,” I say.

  “I’m just saying, Jace.”

  “I know what you’re saying and I’m telling you to drop it. I’m a grown man, brother. Let me be,” I say as he pulls up to the curb.

  “Fine,” he says, shutting the car off.

  “Fine,” I reply, opening the door. I look for cars before we dart across the street to the coffee shop. The sign at the top reads Mugs & Books. There’s a chalkboard out front that displays today’s special. Some kind of fancy shit. I just want a regular coffee.

  I open the door and a little bell dings. Bryce and I walk in and I hear Guns N’ Roses playing from the surround sound speakers. Cool place. It’s got a bohemian feel to it. My eyes jump to the front when I see a girl has just spilled coffee all over the floor.

  She looks flustered as fuck. “Shit,” she says, looking embarrassed.

  “You okay back there?” I ask her as she drops to her knees.

  “Yep. The cup slipped,” she says. I peek over the counter at her and see she’s soaking the coffee up with some towels. I look back at my brother, who’s obviously still ill with me.

  What’s new?

  He stands with a straight back and lifted chin, and then he says, “Are you finished?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. Rude ass.

  She stands upright, wiping her hands on her apron and blowing a piece of hair from her face.

  Damn, she’s gorgeous. Her cheeks are slightly flushed, but she’s got narrowed eyes looking at my brother like she could smack him. I want to laugh. He needs someone to smack him around.

  “Umm, yeah. What can I get you?”

  “Large coffee, black,” Bryce says. “We’re in a hurry.”

  Why the hell is he in such a hurry, and why is he being a douche to this chick? Something’s going on here. I’m lost.

  “Brother, chill,” I say, reaching over and slapping his chest. I look back at the girl. “Sorry about Mr. Dickhead here. He’s not always this unfriendly.”

  She lifts a brow, clearly not believing me. She’s right not to. He is always this unfriendly.

  Bryce exhales, obviously annoyed. “Can you just order?” he says to me.

  “I’ll have the same.”

  “Coming right up,” she says, grabbing two paper cups. My eyes roam over the place, checking out the bookshelves, the worn chairs, and the small leak in the ceiling.

  “What kind of books do you sell here?” I ask her.

  “Thrillers, mysteries, romance,” she replies. I scan my eyes over a book with a couple on it.

  Love Conquers All. I smile and pick it up. “Here. This might help you with your love life,” I say as I toss it to Bryce. He catches it, eyeballing me before looking back at the cute girl. She was smiling until he did that. Now she looks guilty. She wipes a towel across the countertop, her cheeks turning pink again.

  I look between the two. My brother watches her curiously. Something is surely hot in here, and it isn’t the coffee.

  Bryce seems to snap out of whatever haze he’s in. “Let’s go,” he says, taking a sip from his cup and placing the book onto the counter.

  “Ahh, I was just starting to have fun,” I reply with a smirk. Man, I’m so fucking with him about this. He likes this girl. Have they seen each other before? I walk up to her and stretch my hand out for her to shake. “I’m Jace Grant.”

  She takes my hand and I bring it to my lips—to fuck with him and to make her blush again.

  “Kathrine Harrison,” she says.

  Harrison.

  “Good to meet you. I’m sure we’ll be back. This is good coffee,” I say, lifting my brow and taking a sip. I don’t bother saying we’ll be back because my brother clearly likes you. And I do, too, but not like that. She laughs.

  “Come on, brother. Let’s go see what Pops is up to.” I walk to the door before turning around. “Until next time, Harrison.” I salute her and exit the shop. The day’s still early and I squint my eyes from the sun, waiting on Bryce to come out. For someone who was in a hurry, I can’t believe he stopped and talked to her. I look across to the park, and holy shit, it’s her again. Freckles.

  I step off the sidewalk, heading in her direction. I need to say something to this woman. I mean, this is three times I’ve seen her, but then Bryce walks out and she keeps running.

  Damn.

  We walk to the car, and after Bryce gets in, I look over at him. “That woman do something to piss you off?

  His body tightens.

  I’m loving this.

  “She was clumsy. I’m in a hurry.”

  I grin and slide my shades on before reaching up and grabbing my hat from the dashboard. “So, you were a dick because she dropped her coffee and because you’re in a hurry?”

  “Yeah. He starts the car.

  “And why are you in a hurry?”

  I quirk a brow, taking a sip of my coffee. It really is good.

  “I want to get back home tonight. I’ve got things to do downtown.”

  “You’ve got men overseeing that shit,” I say for the second time. I narrow my eyes at him and cluck my tongue because I know. His body movements, the way he was looking at her back there. “You like that chick.”

  “Stop,” he says, annoyance lining his tone.

  I laugh and spin my hat around backwards. “I don’t blame you. She’s fucking hot.” He looks over at me and something flashes in his eyes. Something fire hot and angry. This is so unlike him. I mean, I know I haven’t been around much over the years, but I know my brother. He doesn’t do relationships with hardly anyone, especially women.

  My brother doesn’t believe in the whole falling in love thing. Our parents really fucked him up in that aspect.

  It is what it is.

  “Not trashy enough for me, though.” I smile before reaching down and grabbing my smokes. I’ve got a sack of powder in my pocket, too, and it’s burning a hole through my pants.

  “No way. Not in this car,” Bryce says to me.

  “Come on, brother. I haven’t had one in an hour.”

  He snatches the pack from me. “Good. Your lungs will thank you.” He tosses them onto the dash. Inside, I’m pretty pissed that he
did that. The man treats me like a fucking kid still. But I’m not going to make a big deal out of it. It is his car.

  I scratch my five o’clock shadow and stretch my arms, wishing I were out of this car already. I don’t like confined spaces. I hated sitting still on post for hours. That shit drove me crazy.

  “I saw her at the club last weekend,” he says.

  “Really?” I ask, reaching for my smokes again. I may not can smoke one, but just having it in my mouth can help with the urge.

  “Yeah,” he says, clearly in his own world.

  “Maybe it’s destiny,” I say with a smirk. I fucking knew it! I knew something was up with those two. Bryce rolls his eyes, though, and I chuckle. “I’m coming with you tonight.” I place a smoke between my lips but respect his wishes not to light it.

  “That’s fine,” he says.

  “What do you think Emily’s got cooked for us?” I turn to him.

  “I don’t know, but I’m starving.” He grabs his coffee and I look ahead at the road.

  “Same,” I reply.

  Chapter Eleven

  Harlow

  The early morning run calmed my nerves some after my nightmare, but after I got to work, I had to interview a few witnesses for this case I’ve been working on about a kid who went missing a few days ago. (I know I’m supposed to be working on Grant’s case.) Anyway, the parents are beside themselves. They know the man who took their son. He’s a family friend.

  Parents shouldn’t teach their kids stranger danger. They should teach them to look out for fucking creeps. There are telltale signs. The way the person looks at your kid, if he’s touchy-feely, or always wanting to be around your kid.

  This man was just that. He always wanted to take their son fishing or camping. The parents just thought he was a lonely man who didn’t have any family, so they figured why not?

  A good, fun experience for the kid. Plus, they got a break and could have a little alone time. Sadly, it was at the expense of their child being kidnapped.

  My lungs burn and sweat slides down my back and drips from my nose. I could have just run in the gym at work, but there’s something about being outside. The breeze that drifts across my face every so often. The sound of birds and people around me. I’m alone, but it doesn’t totally feel like it.