Page 6 of Hart of Redemption
Ikicked off the sheet, peeled the woman’s arm from my chest, and climbed out of bed. The blonde rolled over, pulling the cover with her. I’d forgotten her name. Cara or Maura. I tried not to remember their names. If I did, then I would care, and I couldn’t. Emotions other than those in keeping with my stoic nature would only create more problems for me and also for her. The last and only woman I’d let in was six feet under because of the life I led.
I crossed the wood floor into the bathroom, wincing at the pain in my jaw. I’d been grinding my teeth since I found Rosario’s men dead and the guns were stolen.
I had to call Pitt and McCauley today to ask if they could put feelers out. I needed all hands on deck for this one. More importantly, I had to alert my siblings, especially my sister. My enemies—or even Rosario’s—wouldn’t think twice about using our loved ones to fuck with us, and my sister, Grace, was a prime target. Many around me knew I would die to protect her.
I’d failed her once as a teenager, and she ended up in a sex-trafficking ring at sixteen. I blamed myself for that. I’d left her with our alcoholic father while I built a new life away from the abuse and torture of our old man.
She’d taken off for the same reasons I had and was sold to some fucker who’d beaten her into submission. After four years of torture, she’d found a way out by killing her captor. Ten years later, while she was tougher, more aware, and surrounded by my two brothers, the men we had watching her, and me, I still worried.
I flipped on the shower and slid under the cold spray, not waiting for the water to heat. My stomach felt queasy. It didn’t help that I’d polished off a bottle of bourbon or that my ulcer was becoming more of a problem.
Stop drinking, asshole.
The way I was going, I would be an alcoholic before long.Like father, like son.
I closed my eyes, feeling the water pressure beat down on me as my problems bombarded me. I needed a quiet space to think, and I knew the perfect place. Besides, I was planning to visit Savannah’s grave next week.
The only woman I’d ever loved had been murdered in prison on the orders of Tito Alvarez. I slapped a hand on the tile. Fucking Tito. If my brother hadn’t been wearing a wire, I would’ve ripped out his throat.
As it stood, guilt rode me hard for Savannah’s death. I couldn’t have stopped the choices she made, but I should’ve returned her repeated calls from prison. I was afraid if I had, my enemies might’ve gotten to her. A lot of good that had done. I failed her. I failed everyone that I loved.
I had to find a way out of the hell I was living in. It seemed for every step forward I took to redemption, I had to take five steps back. Freedom was like climbing a hill but never reaching the top.
Freedom. I’d never really felt free in the thirty-three years of my existence. I wouldn’t know what it felt like.
After my mother had abandoned us when I, the oldest of her four children, was seven, we grew up with a monster of a father. He thought his kids and wife were his personal punching bag to work out on after a long day at the factory.
I’d forgotten my mother over the years. Didn’t even know if she was alive. But one memory that seemed to bombard me over the years was the day she’d walked out the door.
I rubbed my sleepy eyes as I lifted my head off the pillow. “Mom, what’s wrong? Did Dad beat you again?”
A light in the hall spilled into my bedroom, giving me a glimpse of my mom’s tears.
She sniffled. “I’m leaving, Duke. I’ll be back when I’m settled.” She kissed me on the forehead. “You’re a good boy, Duke. I know you’ll take care of Grace, Dillon, and Denim. You’ll protect them from your father.”
I shook my head. “You can’t go,” I pleaded, throwing my arms around her, basking in her lavender scent. She loved that floral fragrance.
I’d stolen bottles of perfume from the local store and had wrapped them for her Christmas present.
She squeezed me to her. “I’ll return as soon as I can.” Then she ran out.
I bolted after her, watching her grab her suitcase and purse.
She was halfway out the door when she glanced over her shoulder. “I love you.”
I wiped the water from my face as I jolted back to the present. If she’d loved her kids, she never would’ve left.
I learned a valuable lesson after she walked out—don’t let anyone in. She’d pulled out my heart that day, and since then, I pushed away Dillon, Denim, and Grace. Love had yet to drop from my lips for anyone.
I rushed through my shower, trying to wash away the memories that haunted me. My mind was still reeling from thoughts of my family and Savannah. God, Savannah.
I had never had a steady girl in high school. Never had the desire to stay with one for too long. Over the years, I became a hardened individual. Women wanted more from me than I was willing to give—money, a safe home, my heart, hell, my fucking soul.
But I would’ve given Savannah all that and more. She got me. I got her. We both had flaws. However, she had one I couldn’t deal with—drugs. I experimented in high school. I even sold them for a while like Denim had. But I hated what drugs did to people, and seeing Savannah strung out broke my black heart.
Since her death, I slept with women at most twice. I hardly remembered their names, and if they whined or begged, I walked away. The only begging I wanted was when I was balls deep, and she pleaded for me to fuck her harder.
I rubbed my bruised knuckles as I stared at myself in the mirror. My reddish-brown eyes looked tired, although my mother would say I had chestnut-colored eyes like her. I was starting to see wrinkles on my forehead and—dare I say—gray hair amid the sandy-brown color.
