Page 2 of Beat of Love
His older brother.
Rafferty lifted his hand in greeting.
The man spun about and rode away.
Rafferty dropped his arm.
Fuck.
Snapping around, he shuffled forward, only to stumble over a clump of grass.
“Easy, Lawson.” Bones placed a supporting hand under his arm, preventing him from crashing to the ground, and helped him to the SUV a few paces away.
He hated,hatedbeing so fucking weak.
Rafferty collapsed into the passenger seat and leaned his head back, exhausted despite having slept most of the flight home.
If Aidan’s rebuff was an indication of his family’s reaction to his ignoble return …
A lump formed in his throat, and he blinked away the unbidden tears.
He’d never intended to come home.
Hatred for the man who had caused his wife’s death had lived inside him for so long, it had eclipsed reason. And standing over Oliveira’s body, watching life fade from the man’s eyes, Rafferty knew he’d crossed a line, one of no return.
And when he walked away, he felt no regret.
Trekking back across the Amazon jungle, he’d planned the rest of his life.
Life in isolation.
A cabin in the woods.
A self-imposed life sentence.
But his planning had been for naught when, on a rooftop bar on the banks of the Negro River, he’d stumbled onto his path to redemption. A year later, he was left for dead — naked and broken.
Should’ve died in that godforsaken jungle.
The vehicle slowed and turned. He lifted his head, looking around.
His tears had dried, but the ever-present ache in his head had worsened, and sharp pains radiated from the base of his skull to behind his eyes.
A large gate rolled open. Sturdy sandstone pillars supporting the scrolled metal lettering spanned the width of the entrance.
Lawson’s Landing, it read.
Home.
He winced.
His last memory before lapsing into unconsciousness had been of this place. Delirious from pain, and feverish from infection and withdrawal, he’d recalled the Biblical tale of the prodigal son — the father running to his son, welcoming him home.
How he had longed for that.
But Pa was in a wheelchair. The strong man who had raised him would never walk,never run,again. And he, Rafferty Lawson, black sheep scumbag, had put his father in that fucking chair.
How can I expect forgiveness?
