Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4)

by Paige P. Horne

  I slide my sunglasses up my nose and dart my eyes to the road as I round the running path in the park. I almost come to a stop when I spot the guy I saw at the grocery store more than a week ago.

  He’s in a black T-shirt and jeans with a coffee in his hand. I look back in front of me and keep running. But once I’m away from his view, I stop. Bending over, I rest my hand on my knees and wipe the sweat from my brow.

  He can’t see me, but I can see him. He starts to walk toward the park and my heart beats even harder, hammering my pulse against the skin on my neck. I stand up straight, but he stops when another man walks out of the coffee shop.

  The two look a lot alike. Both have buzz cuts. The one who just walked out looks older and leaner, while my grocery store guy is bulkier. His face is that of a pretty boy. Damn, he’s cute. That’s why I couldn’t help but smile at him in the store.

  But he didn’t return my smile. I spotted him a few more times while he was shopping. He was so focused and clearly ready to get out of there.

  He gets into the car and I can no longer see him.

  I exhale, cluck my tongue, and head back to work.

  After a shower, I put my hair up into a bun and let it dry. I walk back into the office and fire up my emails. Narrowing my eyes, I click on some photos that were sent to me.

  Along with a message.

  You’ve surprised even me, little rabbit. After all this time, you’re the only who didn’t quit. She looks the best when she’s tied up. You should see her now.

  My mouth falls open and tears spring to my eyes when I scan through the photos. “Fuck,” I say, jumping up. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” I cover my mouth and jump up like I’ve been shocked.

  My eyes move around the office as everyone at gazes at me.

  “What?” Monroe asks.

  “It’s him,” I say. “It’s fucking him!”

  “What the hell’s going on?” Davy asks, walking out of his office with a napkin in his shirt and one in his hand.

  “It’s him, Davy. The man who took her.”

  He tosses his napkin into the trash and yanks the one from his shirt, balling it up as he walks to me. I look at the screen.

  It’s her. God, she’s hardly grown. He’s kept her hidden. She’s obviously malnourished and her skin is pale except for the red marks across her stomach.

  She’s tied to a chair, half-naked.

  My hands shake; my emotions misfire.

  “She’s alive,” I say to him as he looks for himself. “I knew it.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jace

  The first thing I do when we arrive at the ranch is light my smoke. I say hey to Pops and Emily, and as Bryce takes off with her to the barn, I slip away from Pops and head to the bathroom. I slide my key into the small bag of powder and breathe in hard when I bring it to my nose. Leaning my head back, I sniff again and look to the mirror, my pupils stretching over sapphire.

  I rest my hands on the sink, hating myself right now. I lower my head and place my forehead against the mirror. Closing my eyes, I think about the past. The hurt inside of me blooms like a mature rose.

  Flashbacks run through my mind. I have this movie in my head that replays over and over. But it’s not the whole thing, only clips. Moments in time that my brain has chosen to remember so vividly, it’s like I’m there again when I think about it.

  “The hell you looking at?” Banister says to Adams who’s lying on his cot with his ankles crossed.

  “None of your business, fucker,” Adams replies, putting the paper in his hand down. Like Rocket, Banister, Davidson, and Adams have been with me since boot camp.

  Adams was single this whole time just like me, but he met a girl on his last trip home and he won’t stop talking about her.

  He’s my age, redheaded, and there isn’t a single piece of skin that doesn’t have a freckle on it.

  He’s a small man, but he’s smart as hell and has a heart of pure gold.

  “Did she send you a picture?” I ask him.

  He smiles over at me.

  Rocket walks in, hair still wet from a shower in the water we don’t like to talk about.

  The dust out here is on everything. Sometimes water that isn’t so clean doesn’t matter as long as you are dirt-free for a moment. We sweep constantly and are yelled at constantly for not sweeping enough.

  The dirt is never-ending.

  “Adams, you got a picture, man?” Rocket asks with a big grin on his face.

  “Fuck off,” Adams says.

  “Aw, come on. Let us see,” Banister chimes in.

  “You’re married,” Adams says. “You don’t need to see.”

  “I can still look at a damn photo, asshole,” Banister replies. “You think just because I’m married, I don’t look at other women? You think my wife doesn’t check out other dudes? We aren’t blind.”

  Adams shrugs. “I’ve never been married. I don’t know what you people do.”

  I laugh. “Let me see, man.”

  Adams sighs. “Fine.” He gets up and walks over to me, placing the picture in front of my face.

  “Goddamn, boy. You lucked up. Check this chick out,” I say to the boys. She’s a cute girl. Dark hair, pretty eyes. And she’s in a bathing suit laughing at something.

  All the guys gather around, even Davidson who always has his face stuck in a book when he isn’t working. There are a lot of us here, but these four men have become family to me.

  I’d do anything for them.

  “Shit, Adams. And here I thought she never really existed,” Banister jokes.

  Adams shoves Banister playfully just as Rocket, who’s older, grabs him and puts him in a chokehold before rubbing his knuckles into the man’s head.

  “My little brother is growing up,” he says, acting like he’s about to cry.

  “Man, stop. You’re making me bend the picture,” Adams complains.

  Rocket lets him go and looks toward me sitting on my cot, “When you gonna get a woman, Grant?” he asks.

  I shrug. “I have plenty. Who needs just one?”

  Banister shakes his head at me. “If you found the one, you’d know why.”

  “She’ll grab you by the balls and that’ll be all it takes,” Rocket says in agreement. “My wife was the most beautiful…”

  “Woman in the room,” we all say in unison because we’ve heard this story a thousand times.

  Rocket and his wife met at a wedding. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. They got married two months later and they’ve been married for ten years.

  “Damn, you all act like you’ve heard this story before,” he says with a grin.

  I exhale, slipping out of the memory. I pull back from the mirror and sniff.

  I wouldn’t consider myself a drug addict. I’d consider myself a person who prefers to numb the pain. I put the bag back into my pocket, make sure my nose is clean, and walk out of the bathroom.

  I grab two beers from the fridge and walk up to my old bedroom.

  It’s weird when you come back to your childhood home. You’re different, but the house remains the same. I’ve lived a thousand lives it feels like.

  I walk in and sit down on the bed, looking over at the desk where I used to do my homework. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life back then. Pops was pressuring me to go to college, but school was never my thing. Bryce went, though, and succeeded, just like he does in everything.

  I remember sitting over there trying to figure it out, and now here I sit having zero answers just like I did then. I sniff again and down the first beer before I twist the top off the second. I sigh and walk over to the desk, running my finger over my name that I carved into it with a pocketknife.

  “We’re all grown up now, boy. We’ve seen too much and it fucking hurts.”

  ____________

  The family’s all here when I walk into the kitchen and Aunt Lou looks at Bryce and me. “How are my boys?” she asks.

  “Mighty fine, Lou,” I respond wi
th a smile and tip my beer in her direction. I’m feeling the high from the cocaine and the warmth from that first beer. I haven’t eaten and it’s showing.

  She looks at me. “You behaving?”

  “Now, you know I am.” I take a big sip of my beer.

  “Don’t get drunk before you eat,” Emily scolds.

  “No one gets drunk off beer,” I reply with a smirk before I toss the empty bottle and open the fridge.

  “You heard her.” Pops comes in from the back porch. I could smell his cigar before I heard his voice. He still sounds scary when he uses that tone. I turn around as Uncle Monnie says, “Well, there’s my brother.” Monnie’s a big man with an even bigger belly. Red cheeks and always smiling, just like me.

  I love the man.

  He’s Pops’ brother and Aunt Lou’s husband. He owns a small diner in Atlanta that serves the best breakfast food you can get.

  Those chain restaurants don’t have shit on him.

  “Give me one of those, my boy,” he says to me. I hand him mine before grabbing another, feeling Bryce’s eyes on me.

  “Relax, brother. This is only my second one.” I sniff, not thinking before I do, and Bryce narrows his eyes at me.

  Fuck.

  I avert mine, but it’s too late. He knows I’m high, and I feel even shittier, but no one will ever know about the self-hate I feel. It’s a blackness that took over my soul, and I can’t seem to fight it away no matter how hard I try.

  I take my seat beside Bryce, and he leans over while everyone is talking amongst themselves.

  “Not another goddamn line, you hear me?” he says.

  His tone pisses me off. He forgets himself once again that I’m grown. I’m not the little boy I used to be, and he isn’t my fucking father.

  I bring my beer to my lips. “Just enjoying the day, Bryce.”

  “And I’m going to enjoy kicking your ass if you piss Pops off or disappoint Emily after she’s cooked this meal.”

  Really? Me disappoint her? Does he not remember all the times he came home drunk and got sick only for her to take care of him?

  “That’s your job,” I retort before I can stop myself.

  He shifts his head back. “You wanna elaborate on that?”

  I lift a brow. “Like you were the picture of perfection growing up.”

  “That was a long time ago,” he says. Like that makes it better.

  “Was it?” I ask. “Was it a long time ago when you came home so piss-drunk that you couldn’t walk up the steps?”

  “The fuck you getting at, Jace?” His voice is loud and causes attention.

  “Just reminding you, you’re not a fucking saint, brother. And you are your father’s son.”

  That does the trick. He reaches over and grabs me, standing me up and backing me to the wall. I could fight back, but I really just don’t care to. I think the fight’s gone in me.

  It’s pretty empty in here.

  “Don’t you ever compare me to that weak motherfucker again. Do you hear me?” he says.

  Our sorry-ass father is a trigger for Bryce. He was always drunk and crying over our drugged-out mom. Sorry excuse of a man, if you ask me. I know my brother isn’t like him—well, not that much anyway.

  I laugh and sniff, pushing him back with my shoulder. “Now who’s getting everyone upset?”

  “Stop it,” Pops says.

  Bryce’s eyes tighten and he shakes his head at me.

  Guilt flies in my chest because I’ve hurt him, and I really didn’t mean to do that. I go to say something, but he walks away. Emily calls after him, but he doesn’t listen and here I stand with everyone’s eyes on me, feeling like an asshole.

  “I was only kidding,” I say, bringing my beer to my lips.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Harlow

  My eyes scan over the place, looking at doors that read employees only. It’s packed, and it wasn’t easy getting a seat here at the bar. I’m in a black dress and black pumps. I slide a hand over my tightly pulled back hair and move my eyeglasses up my nose. I would have worn black slacks instead with a blazer, but I needed to look like I blended in well with club folks.

  I guess I do.

  Davy gave me his approval, and Slim was cuddlier before I left the apartment.

  I bring my wine glass to my lips and continue scoping out the place. I walked around some before I got to my resting spot, checking out the bathroom and other guests. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

  No hidden passageway that might lead to wherever this gambling operation is going on. Just a few security guys standing in different places. One at the back of the club near the all brick wall and one at the bottom of a set of stairs that leads up to a private area. I’m assuming that’s a two-way mirror up there. I don’t have the feeling I’m being watched, so hopefully I’m right. I’m trying to go unnoticed. My day has been rough, and this really is the last thing I wanted to do, but Davy insisted I get on it already. Especially after I got that email earlier.

  Davy told me to stay away from it. He gave Monroe free reign of the one case I’ve been trying to solve for over half my life.

  I’m pissed off.

  I exhale and look over at the dance floor at people grinding all over each other. Jesus, get a room, I think to myself.

  I’d rather be at a sports bar right now. I turn my head when my eyes catch sight of my grocery store boy. Holy shit. He’s sitting at one of the booths with a girl. He’s all smiles. My heart thumps, and I blink my eyes at the odd feeling from my chest.

  He’s got the perfect smile. He stands up and walks away from the girl, and I watch him.

  Sue me.

  He pats the security guard on the shoulder, saying something that must have been funny, because they both laugh. He jogs on up the stairs, and I narrow my eyes as he opens the door to the private area. Moments later, the girl heads that way, too.

  I don’t really care for the way that makes me feel. I’ve been here long enough. This isn’t going to be easy. Having already paid for my wine, I slide off the stool and grab my clutch from the bar.

  ____________

  I’m walking into my apartment, fumbling with my keys to unlock the door when I catch Malcom at the end of the hallway. He’s got a girl with him, and he looks toward me. He gives me a look of approval, and I’m assuming he’s talking about my outfit. The girl doesn’t notice as she walks inside his apartment. I smirk at Malcom.

  “Thanks,” I mouth before I stick the key in and push open the door. I love our relationship. It’s almost too easy. No strings. It’s perfect.

  I drop my keys and clutch onto the table, walk into the kitchen, and grab a bag of sunflower seeds before I pour myself a glass of wine.

  “Slim?” I call out as my phone rings. I walk back into the living room and set my glass down to open my purse and grab my phone.

  “Yeah?” I answer.

  “How did it go?” Davy asks me. I look down when I feel Slim Jim at my feet.

  “It went fine. Kinda boring.”

  He laughs. “Boring? You’re young, beautiful, and in the hottest night club in town and you were bored?”

  “I was working, and you know I don’t care for night clubs.”

  “No, you don’t care for this case.”

  I exhale. “No, I don’t, Davy. I want to be where I’m useful.”

  “You need this, Dalton. You might can’t see it now, but trust me. This is good.”

  I look down at Slim rubbing against my leg and exhale. Davy isn’t going to let me out of this, so I guess I need to give it my all. Not because I care, but because the faster I solve it, the faster I can get back to what matters, and that’s finding her.

  “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

  “Good. Have a good night.”

  “You too. Say hello to the family.”

  I hang up and lean down to pick up Slim. “I think I need to put you on a diet,” I tell him as I walk toward the window and look out. I let him down on the win
dow seat before sitting down myself.

  Kicking off my heels, I rest my head back and look at the wall. The new email hangs up with the rest of the things I’ve collected over the years.

  It’s the newest thing I’ve gotten in more than five years. This has been a cold case, and it fucks with me every day.

  How can this be?

  As much technology as we have these days, how can I not find her?

  Monroe got to work as soon as Davy assigned him. We’ve searched the IP address, and it’s linked us to a library in northern Maine. Monroe is headed up there, and I’m dying staying here.

  “The club really wasn’t that bad,” I say to Slim. “I mean, it was packed so people must like it, right?” My eyes scan over the email. I rub my hands over my cat. Leaning my head back, I narrow my eyes.

  “Where are you, sick son of a bitch?”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jace

  I’m clearly drunk while I snort thin white lines off some chick’s tits.

  “Why the fuck do you keep doing that shit?” Bryce asks, kicking my leg.

  I shrug. “I just can’t think of a reason not to. Have one. Lighten the hell up for once in your life,” I tell him with a grin. The girl takes the rolled-up Benjamin from my hand and licks my finger clean after I wipe the powder off her skin.

  Bryce rubs his chin, taking a sip of his bourbon.

  I lean back, rubbing my nose. I hate the look on his face. I hate that he’s disappointed in me, but I am who I am.

  I sniff and turn my head to him. “Look, brother. I was the perfect motherfucker for seven of the eight years I served. I’ve done my part. I’ve seen shit that…” I stop and stare down at the floor. I wish I could shut this film off that replays in my mind. I wish I could eject the memory and toss the tape into a fire.

  But I can’t. I couldn’t do anything about it then, and I can’t do anything about it now.

  And it hurts