The point is, when he finds out what I’m really doing, he’s going to hate me.
He’s going to truly hate me.
I rest my elbow on my desk and rub my forehead. On top of all this mess I’ve gotten myself into, I’m still talking with Monroe who’s been in Maine now for weeks and still hasn’t found anything.
This shit is crazy to me. How can he be hiding so well? How, after all these years, have we not found anything?
I look at my watch and exhale. Time for therapy. Grabbing my coffee, I stand, sliding my hand into the back of my pants to make sure my shirt is tucked in.
I wave to Davy as I head out. “Dalton,” he says.
I stop and backtrack, slipping my head inside his office. “Yeah?”
“How’s the case going? Are we getting any closer to shutting this down?”
“Working on it,” I reply.
He narrows his eyes at me. “Get that boy’s trust already and get this shit done. This should have been easy for you.”
“It’s not as easy as you’d think. I can’t just ask the man if his brother has an illegal gambling operation under his club.”
“No, but you can get him to take you there. Get him drunk, get him talking. Do whatever it takes.”
“Yes, sir,” I reply. “Can I go to therapy now?”
“Yes.” I nod and hit the edge of the door as I walk away. “Oh, Dalton?” he says. I turn to look at him through the glass.
“I know you’ve been skipping out.”
I smirk. “I know you’ve been cheating on your diet.”
His lips snap shut.
I wink and then laugh before exiting the office.
_____________
It’s late as I sit in my unmarked car outside of Red. I’m scoping the place out to see if there’s a door people are entering from the back. So far, I’ve had no luck, and I’ve been here for hours. I have seen some mean-looking men walk into the club, though. One guy in all black with slicked back hair and tattoos. He stood out from the rest. I’m pretty sure he isn’t here to dance and hang out. I went in after him, but once I got inside, he was nowhere to be found. The line to get in this place is insane, and I can’t exactly flash my badge and demand they let me in.
I sigh and hit my hand across the steering wheel, thinking about how therapy went earlier today.
I decided to talk about what I’ve got going on versus talking about my past. After all, I only had Malcom to talk to, and that’s pretty much a bust now. Cathy is getting paid. I might as well get something out of it.
“Can we not talk about my past today?” I ask as I take a seat across from Cathy, my therapist. I play with my watch, looking over the office. Books cover a whole wall, and a grandfather clock sits proudly on the other side, ticking away.
“What’s on your mind?” she asks.
I lick my lips and readjust myself in the chair. “I’m on a new case. I’m undercover, and it’s turning out to be a challenge.”
“How so?”
“Because I’m falling for the guy I’m lying to.”
Her eyebrows lift.
“Let me be clear. His brother is the one breaking the law.” I look at the notepad in her hand. “I’m using him to get info.”
She rubs her chin and sits back in her chair, resting her pen on top of the notepad. “Have you slept with him?”
“No,” I reply. “But we have kissed and kinda agreed to take things farther.”
“Kinda?” she asks.
“Yeah, kinda…”
She nods and taps her pen. “So, what are your concerns?”
“That he’s going to hate me when this is all over. I’m going to take down his brother and possibly put him in prison. I would hate me.”
“Did you strictly start dating him to get to his brother?”
“No. He asked me out for a drink, and I agreed, but before I met up with him, I found out who he was. And then it was too late.”
“You could have canceled the date,” she says, crossing her leg over the other.
“Part of me wishes I would have.” I shake my head and rub my face. “I know the facts, but I didn’t know I would really start liking him. I saw an opportunity. I saw a way to do my job, and I took it.”
She nods and gives me a look. “So I think you already know what is going to happen here.”
I don’t want to hear it out loud. I know I have to put my feelings to the side, even though this is the only time in my life I’ve ever felt something more for a man. I think like a guy when it comes to relationships. I don’t know if it’s because I have other things to focus on, like finding Chloe, or if I was just made this way.
Guys come and go, but my job, my career, that stays. That’s the one thing I know how to do. I find the bad people. I get them out of society, and I return broken children back to their homes.
Except for one.
I still haven’t found the one.
“You are a workaholic. I think we can both agree with that. Your job is your life, and I don’t think you’re going to let feelings stop you from continuing your mission. Even if it ends badly for you in the end. This guy you like, if he likes you, he’ll understand why you did what you did. If he doesn’t, then you’ll still have the one thing you value most. Your career.”
She just told me exactly what I already thought.
Why am I doing this?
“Yeah,” I say, looking at my watch. “I gotta go. Working on a big case.”
She shakes her head. “You know you’re never going to get better until you talk about what actually happened?”
I look over at her bookshelf, her little whatnots and bookends. Why when tragedy happens a person feels…I don’t have a better word, so left out is all I got.
I remember watching a documentary some years ago about the attacks on 9/11. This man was hanging at the fire department that day, just filming the everyday life of a rookie fireman. And before they knew it, a plane crashed into the North Twin Tower. After the tower went down and firemen were rushing back to the firehouse, with looks on their faces that could only be described as confusing, relief to still be alive, a few of them kept saying, “Why did I make it out? Why am I the one who’s still alive?”
It’s almost a feeling of guilt.
I guess that’s what I’m feeling right now. Guilty.
Why did I not get taken?
Why have I been given the opportunity to keep living every day and she’s stuck somewhere in hell?
It makes me angry.
Maybe I could have handled it better. Maybe I could have gotten out sooner and been home already. She was so young. She didn’t get a chance to learn how to defend herself.
No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try, I can’t shake this heavy feeling in my gut.
I’m here.
She isn’t.
I look back at Cathy. “What actually happened is a psychopath hunted down someone I love and took her. That’s what happened.”
“I know. But you haven’t told me how you’ve dealt with that. You haven’t told me how it was later for you.”
How it was? What does she mean by “how it was”? It was hell. I was never allowed to go anywhere after that. I was kept at home, under lock and key. My parents watched every move I made and wouldn’t take their damn eyes off of me. Not to mention the smothering. God, I wanted so much for things to get back to normal.
But I was the kid who was there. I was the kid who was left behind to deal with broken hearts and sad eyes.
“It was hell. It was fucking hell.” I stand up and walk to the door. “See you next week.”
I exhale and start my car. There’s nothing to see here. Bryce Grant is very sneaky. He knows what he’s doing. I’m going to have to get Jace to invite me inside.
I care about the guy, but this is my life. I have to get this case taken care of so I can get back to trying to find Chloe. I need to go to Maine myself. I need to be where the suspect was or is.
Chapt
er Twenty-Two
Jace
Early morning sun brightens the sky, coloring the vast space with the softest blue. I sit on the tractor out at Grant Ranch after cutting it off and taking in the sunrise. Dalton’s words run through my mind.
“Don’t be too hard on your brother. He was older than you.”
I rest back, kicking my feet up as I slide my hands into my pockets.
I know the man is older than me. I know he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. The reasonable side of me does anyway.
The hurt side, the side that feels lied to, abandoned? That side can’t see reason. All it sees are pain and betrayal. How can Bryce help that woman?
We were disposable to Mary.
She proved that when she gave us up at the hospital.
I know we were better off in the long run with Pops and Emily. Our time growing up on the ranch was filled with lessons and hard work, but Emily and Pops made a life for us. A stable life, which is what kids need.
They need for you to be there for them, even when they’re trying to push you away.
My brother did everything he could to push them away, but they fought for him. I was the kid who didn’t cause too much drama. I stayed quiet and did what I was told.
Bryce went wild and tried to stay away as much as possible, because even though we knew we were better off, we still missed our parents. We still loved them and wanted them and not these strangers we were put with.
Over time, I got over it, though. I missed my mom and dad less and less. I moved on from the tragedy that was our life before. Bryce couldn’t shake it. It’s still affecting him to this day.
And I couldn’t understand why the one stable in my life chose to leave me.
We both have issues but for two different reasons. You toss a little war into the mix and the shit I’ve witnessed over the past few years, and well, you’ve got a person who feels nothing but guilt, pain, and rejection.
I don’t know why I made it out. I should feel grateful, but I can’t.
And now I’ve met the most amazing woman. I should feel even more blessed to be here right now.
Dalton is funny, kind, and she tries to see both sides of the matter. She’s never even met my brother and yet, she’s taking up for him. She’s gorgeous and smart and I love the sound of her laugh, so I find myself trying to make her do it, just so I can hear it.
I’ve been giving my brother shit for falling for Harrison, but what the hell is happening to me?
I shake my head, cut the tractor back on, and head back toward the barn. I know Emily has to have breakfast cooking.
____________
I hear voices when I near the back porch that leads into the kitchen. It’s my brother and Harrison.
Shit.
I wasn’t ready for this.
I came out here to think about things and have some time alone.
Even though I can’t say I’m not missing Dalton. Thoughts of bringing her out here cross my mind, but it’s too damn soon for all of that, and besides, she’s been a little standoffish this past week. Ever since we kissed, actually.
I don’t know if she’s having second thoughts or she’s just busy. But hell, she works at a library. What the hell could she be busy with?
“It’s ready,” I hear Emily say. “Bryce, go get your brother.”
“Where is he?” Bryce asks.
“Right here,” I reply, walking into the vast kitchen. I swipe a piece of straw off my faded jeans and readjust my backwards baseball hat before rubbing my growing beard.
“You better take those boots off in Emily’s kitchen,” Pops says to me.
I stop and pull my worn boots off before peeling my socks away, too. My feet sigh a little relief as I walk to the sink and wash up. Tension grows thick in the kitchen, and I know it’s because of Bryce and me. They all seemed to be having a good, comfortable time until I walk in.
“How’s Frisk doing with that horse?” Pops asks me as I scrub up my arms, removing cut grass and dirt.
I nod. “Fine.” I reach over and take the dishtowel Emily offers me.
“Just fine, huh?” Pops asks.
“That’s what I said,” I reply. My mood is shit now. I really don’t want my brother here.
“Hey,” Bryce speaks up. “Don’t be a smartass.”
“Fuck you,” I spit. Before I can blink, Bryce’s stool is hitting the wall behind him from being slid out so hard. He grabs me by the collar and slams me against the wall.
“What did you say to me, boy?” he seethes. My eyes burn fire, but I’m not backing down from my big, bad brother. I lift my chin and look him dead in the face. Hit me, motherfucker. Let’s do this.
“That’s enough.” Pops stands up. His baritone voice sounds deep through the house. Bryce doesn’t let up, though, and it’s Emily who makes it happen.
“This isn’t happening in here.” She drops a pan onto the stove, and it makes a loud clank. Everyone grows quiet.
My brother breathes hard, but loosens his grip on my shirt, narrowing his eyes at me before retaking his seat beside Harrison. My blood boils, my anger to beat the shit out of something so strong I could lift that fucking farm table and throw it.
I straighten the stretched collar of my shirt, and instead of sitting down, I walk over to the fridge, grab a beer, and head the fuck outside.
I jog down the porch, twisting the cap off my beer and bringing it to my lips. Licking them after, I taste salt from sweat and the noticeably wrong taste of beer so early in the morning.
Why the hell did I grab this? I toss the thing over into a barrel and head out to where Frisk is training the new horse we got in. I slip my phone from my front pocket and look down at the screen. No texts from Dalton.
I know it’s early, but she isn’t just a little curious as to why I haven’t called? I send her a text.
Hey.
She replies immediately
Hey back, stranger.
I think you’re the one who’s been a stranger.
She doesn’t reply, and I look up as the horse bucks. I see Emily has brought out a pot of coffee with some cups for the boys, so I walk over and pour a cup before leaning against the fence. Resting my forearms on it, I prop my foot on the bottom.
I exhale as I think about last night’s bad dream. I woke up pouring sweat and thrashing all over the bed. Part of me thinks I need to go talk to someone. Maybe do some group counseling with other guys who have been through the same thing I have or something similar. See how they’re coping with it.
I’m coping shitty. I drink too much, party too hard, and even though Dalton and I said we wanted to take things farther, we haven’t seen each other in two weeks.
She ghosted me.
But maybe I ghosted her, too.
I left a few days after we went to Hudson’s and talked about Bryce and Mary. I still can’t believe he kept that shit from me.
I can’t seem to let it go, but hell, I can’t let a lot of things go.
I take another sip of my coffee when I hear someone walk up behind me.
“He’s at least 17 hands, right?”
I nod but don’t speak. Sniffing, I rub my nose, but not because I’m high. I’ve chilled out on that for a bit. Hell, maybe I’m done with it altogether. I rub my beard before taking another sip of my coffee. I look over at Bryce, checking out what he’s got in his hands. My helmet. He places it against my chest.
“Come on,” he says.
“What, you think we can just go riding and everything will be fine?” I ask.
“Just come the fuck on.”
I exhale and take hold of the helmet. “Fine.” I toss the coffee and we head back to the shop to grab our bikes.
The trails have grown up a bit, but we make our way through, climbing over large tree roots and turning sharp corners, snapping branches and crunching leaves beneath our tires.
We gain speed across an empty pasture before escaping deeper into the woods, climbing the mountainside.
Sweat rivers down my back, even though it’s cooler up here. The air is crisper like fall is teasing us. The sound of the bike sends me back to my teenage years when I wanted nothing more than to do this always with my big brother.
Bryce is ahead as we continue up the rough terrain. He twists the throttle, his back tire throwing up dirt as he turns sharp between two trees. He dusts me, but I shrug it off.
It’s a path we’re all too familiar with, and as we maneuver over a small log, I see the clearing up ahead past my brother. This part’s the most fun because we can race. I shift gears and give it some gas.
We haul ass to the top, and I fight for the lead as we clear the hill. We keep going, knowing the place we have to stop before flying off the mountainside. It’s a rush and a gamble, but we’re no stranger to either. We turn our bikes, sliding to a stop. I look down over the side, smiling behind my helmet because I love this shit. Dirt and grass fly up, and I look over at my brother, seeing him smiling back.
He removes his helmet and unzips the top of his suit as he kicks the stand out and hops off.
I never grow tired of this view. My brother wanted to get away from here and be in the big city. Don’t get me wrong. I know he loves it, but we’re different in that way. I could build a house right here and settle.
Well, maybe one day, when I’m done having fun. I look out at trees and patches of land as far as the eye can see. The sun glistens off the lake that’s to the right side.
Bryce rests his helmet on the handlebars and walks over to the bench that he and I placed here when I was nine.
This is our spot. This is where we’d come to get shit off our chest, or sit in silence, thinking about life and our possible futures. Although, I’m sure he thought about our past. Bryce has always been stuck there, and I’m hoping Harrison can get his ass right.
After Bryce left and moved to the city, I’d come up here by myself. It was lonely, it sucked, it’s where I decided I was going to join the Army.
Bryce walks over and takes a seat, throwing his arm over the side of the bench.
Give Me Redemption (Give Me Series Book 4) Page 10
