Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4)

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Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4) Page 9

by Paige P. Horne


  I shake my head again and look at the hardwood, rubbing my face. “Where’s Bryce?” I ask, looking over at Harrison.

  “I haven’t seen him all day. He won’t answer his phone.”

  I nod. He didn’t answer for me either. Fucking hell. I came over here to talk about Michelle. To open up to my brother, and he’s been what? Hiding our mom? Lying to me?

  “Harrison, this isn’t going to be pretty. I think you should go.”

  She blushes, looking like I hurt her feelings. I don’t want to be rude to her, but this is a private matter, and I don’t really want her to see me this way.

  “Okay,” she says, sliding off the stool. She walks toward the door.

  “Where are you going?” Bryce asks her as he walks in.

  “Well, it seems like you’re having a little family thing here, and I’m not sure I need to…”

  “Stay,” he says, shutting the door behind him.

  “Bryce, I’m—” Kat says.

  “Stay,” he repeats.

  “Okay,” she replies, folding her lips in and retaking her seat.

  “You sure you want her to hear all this?” I ask. “You want Harrison to see the ugly side of this fucked-up family? To see that my brother is a fucking nutcase? What the hell are you thinking bringing her here?”

  Bryce lifts his chin. “She needed help. I helped her.”

  “You helped her?” I ask sarcastically. “You helped her do what? Get clean for a month before she steals from you and disappears?”

  “She wants to change,” Bryce says, standing his ground, his voice low and steady.

  I laugh once. “Change.” I scoff. “The only thing that woman changes is the drug she’s using for the night.”

  Bryce’s jaw tightens, but I don’t give a shit if my brother is mad, because I promise I’m madder. He’s crossed the line with this shit. He’s helping this woman. The woman who basically killed our father and gave us up with a single signature. I feel like I don’t even know him right now.

  “Don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Mary says with tears in her eyes.

  My body shifts to her. “Oh, I know you’re here. I can feel the weight of you in this room.” I walk closer and lower my voice menacingly. “I remember who you are, Mom.” I stare at her, my body eerily calm on the outside, but my breathing raged, because on the inside I’m going crazy.

  “Jace,” Bryce says in warning.

  “Don’t fucking Jace me,” I spit, turning around to face my brother. The liar. “How long has this been going on?” My eyes go back to Mary, and I look her up and down, taking in the fact she’s gained a pound or two. Her hair’s been washed, her clothes aren’t dirty, and she isn’t dressed like a street whore. “She’s clean. So what? Over a month now?”

  Bryce’s jaw is so tight it looks like it could crack. “She’s been here for a few weeks,” he says.

  “A few weeks?” He’s kept this from me for a few weeks? The whole time I’ve been back, he’s been keeping her locked up here in his house? Doesn’t he remember who she is? What’s she capable of doing?

  I walk away from Mary and stand by the island, crossing my arms. “And when were you going to tell me?”

  Bryce sighs and leans back on his heels. “She needed to get better before you saw her.”

  “You act like we didn’t grow up in the same house, and I’m not a little boy anymore, Bryce. I don’t need closed doors and loud music.”

  Bryce looks down.

  Yeah, I remember it all, brother.

  “How long have you known where she was?” I ask him.

  He doesn’t say.

  He thinks he can keep me in the dark about this. He thinks I’m still a little kid who needs all that protecting shit. Does he have any idea what I’ve been through? I’ve seen so much shit, so many horrible things. I’ve lived through them all, and he thinks our mom being fucked off heroin is going to affect me?

  If I wasn’t mad before, I am now. Rage shoots out of me, and I slam my palm down on the island. “Answer me, dammit.”

  “A few years,” Bryce says.

  I nod with a sadistic smile. “You’ve kept this from me for years?” I push off the counter. “You’re my only one.” I walk up to my brother and jab a finger into his chest. “You’re the one person I tell everything to and who I expected to do the same to me.”

  Bryce’s hand comes out of his pocket, and he grabs mine, stopping me from stabbing him again.

  “You lied.” I snatch my hand away.

  “Stop,” Bryce says. “I’ve never lied to you.”

  “No, you’re right,” I seethe. “You just chose not to tell me.” I shoulder-check him as I head for the door, yanking it behind me and slamming it so hard I’m shocked it doesn’t splinter.

  ________________

  Harlow

  This is hands down the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. It’s been weeks now since Jace and I met at Hudson’s. We’ve stayed up past midnight watching stupid movies while we talked on the phone and made fun of them.

  We’ve met at Hudson’s a few more times and watched the Braves play. I’ve gotten extremely lucky with that. The boys at work have been told by Davy to stay away from there.

  They’re all pretty pissed at me, but it isn’t my fault. I didn’t know who the man was before I picked the place.

  I’ve learned so much about him over a short period of time, except details about the Army. He’s pretty quiet when it comes to that subject, but he’s an open book when it comes to his family.

  I know all about his past now and how he got adopted by Lee Grant. I’m finding out as much as I can about Bryce Grant, but I’ve yet to go to Red with Jace and he hasn’t once mentioned anything about the illegal gambling underneath the club.

  I don’t want to appear overly interested in the place and I’ve already told him I’m not into clubs, so he hasn’t asked me to go once.

  I know this is going to have to change eventually. I’m being pressured by Davy to hurry it along, but part of me doesn’t want this to end now.

  I mean, I want to get back to working on my other cases, that’s for sure, but I know once I bust Bryce, there will be no more Jace and that doesn’t sit well with me.

  I exhale, hanging my hands on my hips as I look at the wall before me. I know I’ve got to take these photos down; it’ll bring up too many questions.

  While we’ve talked on the phone a lot and been to Hudson’s a few times, he’s yet to come here and I’ve yet to invite him. Nor have I been to his place.

  I’m nervous.

  We’re extremely flirty. We hardly watch the game at Hudson’s, too busy talking to each other over a pint of beer.

  He’s put his hand on the small of my back when he’s walked me to my car. I’ve pushed his shoulder when he’s told me something ridiculous.

  We’ve given each other looks that could light the building on fire, and I’d be lying if I said I haven’t thought about him between my legs more than once. I’ve stared after the bathroom door at the pub, thinking we could slip in there really quickly and ease this burn.

  It’s borderline torture.

  And I call Malcom after every time and he’s even questioned it.

  “What’s with you lately?” he asks as he buttons his jeans.

  I turn back to look at him “What do you mean?”

  He lifts a brow. “I don’t know… Something’s different. You’re different. It’s almost like you’re not here when we fuck. Like you’re thinking of something else, but you’re so turned on at the same time.”

  I swallow and look away.

  “Hey, it’s none of my business.”

  I look back at him. I haven’t been able to talk to anyone about Jace and the feelings I’m having. I can’t talk to Davy, because he’d tell me I was getting too close.

  I don’t really have any friends, besides Malcom here, and I’ve skipped out on the last few therapy sessions without Davy knowing, of course. He’ll be pissed w
hen he finds out.

  “I’ve met someone,” I say.

  He gives me a surprised look. “You’ve met someone and you’re still sleeping with me?”

  “It’s complicated,” I say.

  “You really like this guy?”

  “Yeah, but it will never work,” I tell him with a regretful smile.

  “Why?”

  “He’s a job,” I say.

  He sits down beside me on the bed. “Like a case?” he asks.

  “Exactly. I’m using him to get information on someone close to him.”

  “Damn, Harlow. That’s tough.”

  “Who you tellin’?” I laugh.

  “Do you think he likes you, too? I mean, I’m sure he does. You’re a great catch. A little uptight, but still,” he says with a smile.

  “Hey, I’m working on it,” I reply, hitting him on the shoulder playfully.

  He laughs. “Yeah, you’ve been through a lot. That whole thing with Chloe. The wall of pictures is a little off-putting, though.”

  I nod and look down. “Yeah, I guess it is, huh?”

  We grow quiet for a moment, and then he says, “So have you been thinking about him while we…”

  I clear my throat, feeling as guilty as I’m sure I look.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “That’s not fair.”

  “Hey, we both knew what this was before we started. If you’ve been thinking about another man while we fuck, that’s not an issue for me. You do what you gotta do. But Harlow?” he says. “I think it’s a little unhealthy, and I think we might need to chill out a bit until things calm down for you.”

  I know he’s right. Shit, maybe I do need to get back into therapy.

  Really give this thing a go.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “We should cool it.”

  “But as soon as you’re done, I’m here,” he says.

  I laugh. “Thanks.”

  I stand up on my tiptoes and pull the thumbtacks out one by one, laying the photos down onto the desk. I walk over to the side table and open the drawer before putting the photos inside.

  My eyes go back to the wall. It’s weird and empty now. But this is good. I shouldn’t have had them up for so long anyway.

  Shit, Harlow, it’s been over fifteen years.

  I rub a hand over my face, looking down at the pictures in the open drawer. This isn’t me giving up. This is me taking a small break.

  That’s all.

  I shut the drawer and finish straightening up before Jace arrives.

  Chapter Twenty

  Jace

  I’m not even thinking when I get into my truck. I start it, yank it in reverse, and hit the gas, burning rubber as I exit the parking lot. My truck hits bottom when I pull out into the street and I gun it down the road, heading to Michelle’s house.

  I hit the steering wheel, my mind on overdrive.

  How could Bryce do this?

  How could he keep something like this from me?

  I know I’m a fuck-up, I know I do shit that doesn’t make sense, but I never thought he’d hide anything this big from me.

  It’s our mom.

  She left us both, but apparently, not him, just me.

  He’s the savior in this situation, and I’m just the guy left out of the loop.

  I turn into Michelle’s apartment complex and jump out of the truck. Walking inside, I choose the stairs instead of the elevator. Hitting the top step, I push open the door to her hall and narrow my eyes when I see her standing there talking to some guy.

  “Hey,” I call out. She turns to me, giving me a smile, but I’m not in the fucking mood for smiles.

  The man looks at me, too. “You must be Jace?” he says as I near them. “Good to meet you. I’m the neighbor.”

  I narrow my eyes but shake his hand. “Same, man.”

  “Thanks for the sugar,” he says to Michelle, but something flashes across his face.

  “Anytime,” she replies after clearing her throat. He walks past me, giving me a tight smile. I don’t return it. Something is up here. “This one yours?” I signal to the open door.

  “Yeah,” she says. “Come in.”

  I walk past her and hear her shut the door behind me.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “You fucking that guy?” I counter.

  “What?” she blanches, her pupils stretching across brown-green.

  “You heard me.”

  She crosses her arms and nods. “Why is that your business?”

  “I don’t want you sleeping with anybody.”

  “Okay, so we’re playing this?”

  “I’m not playing anything,” I say.

  “First off, you need to chill out with the attitude. Second, I don’t think we ever agreed to make whatever this is between us an official thing. Are you sleeping with other people?”

  “Yes,” I say honestly.

  “You don’t get to come in here and point fingers at me then.”

  I hang my hands on my hips, staring at her. She doesn’t back down, looking pissed and so fucking beautiful, I could fall at her feet and give her everything I have.

  Without thought, I rush to her, my hands going to the side of her face. Just as her arms fall from her chest, my lips press to hers, and it’s just like I imagined. Sweet seduction.

  Her back hits the door with a thud, and when her tongue touches mine, I swear I see fireworks.

  My chest fills with this odd feeling, and I never want to stop kissing her.

  I feel her hands go to my arms before one goes to the back of my neck, bringing me closer.

  She moans and I kiss her better, harder, slower. I make love to her mouth while holding her in place, and I promise I’ve never had a kiss affect me like this.

  Not once.

  She pulls back, breaking our kiss and looking down.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask her.

  I feel her breath brush against my lips when she exhales.

  “You sure you want to take things farther?” she asks me, her eyes darting up to mine.

  “Why wouldn’t I?” I ask her, like of course I do.

  She smiles slightly, looking torn, like she wants to tell me something but doesn’t know how.

  “Talk to me, Michelle,” I say. “I’m not a mind reader. If you don’t want this, then you need to say it.”

  “That’s not it,” she says.

  “Then what is it?”

  She shakes her head and smiles. “Nothing. I’ve just… I’ve never done this before. I really don’t know how this works.”

  “You’ve never taken things farther?” I ask.

  “Not with anyone I cared about, no.”

  Why does this make me so happy?

  “Good.”

  “Good?” she asks.

  “Yeah. I like that I’m your first.”

  She makes a face. “Well, you’re not my first.”

  I put my hand over her mouth. “You know what I mean.”

  She laughs behind my hand. I let go and move back a little. “You didn’t bring anything to cook.”

  I remember how pissed I was when I drove over here. I forgot to stop and get the groceries.

  “Damn, I did, didn’t I?”

  “Why were you so upset?” she asks. She moves from the door and walks to the kitchen.

  I follow her. “Oh, I just found out my brother has been secretly talking with our heroin addict mom for years without me knowing, but you know the fucked-up part?”

  She turns to look at me as she opens the fridge. “What?”

  “He’s been keeping her at his house for a few weeks, trying to get her clean. Now this woman was never, I repeat never, there for us when we were kids. She’s the reason why our father is dead, and she gave us up soon after. How can he even consider helping her?”

  She pulls out some leftover pizza. “So, you’re mad at him about this, right?”

  “Of course, I am,” I say.

  “Have you thought about it from his side?�


  “What? No? What side? The insane side? She’s an addict. She’s going to rob him blind and then take off.” I look down at the pizza box. “Also, we’re not eating that.”

  “Why? Leftover pizza is the best.”

  “It’s not the worst, but I’m not feeling pizza. Let’s go eat at Hudson’s.”

  She shrugs. “Okay.” She leaves the pizza and I turn around, almost tripping over a fucking furball.

  “Jesus,” I say, catching myself on the wall, glad I

  didn’t smush the cat.

  Michelle lets out a big laugh, and when I look back, her whole face is lit up.

  “You think that’s funny?” I ask her with a grin.

  “I almost killed your cat.”

  “Nah, he’s tough,” she says, smiling and walking

  over to pick up the cat. “Aren’t you, Slim?”

  “Slim?” I ask, looking at her weird. “That’s probably the fattest cat I’ve ever seen.”

  “Hey, you’ll hurt his feelings,” she says, giving him a kiss before putting him down.

  I hold my hand out for her. She looks down at it for a split moment before sliding hers with mine.

  “I don’t think you should be too hard on your brother,” she says. “He was older than you when the car crash happened. He probably looks at things a little differently.”

  “He fucking lied to me, Michelle.”

  “Call me Dalton,” she says.

  “What?” I ask.

  “My last name’s Dalton.”

  I smirk. “Okay.”

  We head out of the apartment, down to my truck, and to Hudson’s, our regular spot now.

  And I don’t know for sure, or if I even should think this, but I feel like we just got a little closer.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Harlow

  I don’t know what I’m doing. I really, really don’t know what I’m doing. I sit at my desk with a coffee and a headache. It’s therapy day, and I don’t think I’m skipping out this time.

  Ways that I’ve messed up:

  I’ve told the man my last name.

  I’ve agreed to take things farther when I know this can never go anywhere.

  I’ve let him kiss me.

  I know I wanted it, but that’s not the point. The point is this is my job. This was not supposed to be anything more.

 

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