Redeemed (The Dark Redemption Series Book 2) (16 page)

Benjamin Rawls

Pressing on the bar, I open the heavy courthouse door and step out into the world as a free man for the first time in almost eleven long years. The moment is bittersweet.

The judge may have declared my life sentence served, but that’s not entirely true. Not a moment of any day will ever pass without me holding myself responsible for Val and Betsy’s deaths. The only two women I’ve ever loved, and I couldn’t save either of them. Their blood is on my hands and always will be.

Wiping away the wetness from underneath my eyelashes, I walk toward the parking lot, wearing the same clothes I had on the morning my entire life ended. On the day Val and I were supposed to start our lives together, I found out she was gone. Then I was handcuffed and taken from my boys. In one moment, I lost everything.

At least now I can try to make amends with one of my grown sons, while we mourn the loss of his brother together. His death certainly hasn’t been easy on him or me, but at least he died honorably, saving those he loved. A better man than me, since I’ve failed to do that twice. 

Waiting among the row of cars is my surviving son and the girl who was supposed to become my daughter what seems like a lifetime ago. Maybe I’ll still get that chance because the way my son looks at her…he obviously loves her.

I approach them as fast as my weary feet will carry me, my eyes going right to the motorcycle beside them when it comes more clearly into view. That’s not just any Harley; it’s identical to my 1981 Wide Glide, down to the red flames along the side of the gas tank. I restored that baby from scratch while working two jobs and raising two rambunctious boys. Aden and Brede used to love helping me out in the garage, and I think they were just as proud as I was the first time I cranked her up.

“Now that’s just icing on the cake,” I tell them, forcing a smile on my face even as the brutal memories assault me of the perfect day Val and I rode together. The last time I saw her alive and happy, when she told me we were gonna have a child together…

I wrap both kids up in a tight hug, one of them in each arm. “Thank you,” I tell them, trying not to get choked up and failing. “Thank you for everything.” Pulling away, I wipe my face on the sleeve of my shirt. “Now, why didn’t you tell me I was gonna be a grandpa?” I ask my son with a squeeze to his shoulder. “Congratulations! Val never would’ve believed this, my son and her daughter in love, sharing a life together and starting a family.”

“We wanted to surprise you. You’re going to come stay with us for a while, right?” Blair asks with a smile, her palm resting protectively on her swollen belly.

“Since I have no other home, I suppose I will be intruding on you for a while until I can get back on my feet.”

“Good,” my son says, loosening the knot of his navy blue tie and unbuttoning the collar of his white dress shirt. I have a feeling that this is the first time he’s ever dressed up in a suit, but he pulls it off well.

“The only thing that would make this day better was if your brother could be here to celebrate,” I tell him. “I miss him so damn much, and I’m really sorry about your foster parents.”

“He still keeps all three of them close, don’t you?” Blair asks before she tugs down the collar of his shirt and stands on her toes to press her lips over each of the three consecutive, cursive words written in ink like a permanent necklace. Stepping forward to read them, I see the names – Jim, Paula and…Aden.

“I would’ve put them over my heart but…” Brede starts.

“It’s already covered in ink,” I finish for him with a grin.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Still remember how to ride one of these things?” he asks, clearing his throat. Reaching behind him, he runs his fingertips over the handlebar lovingly as if he’s attached to the machine.

“This yours?” I ask in astonishment.

“Yeah,” he answers. “Bought and restored it when I was seventeen.”

“She’s a beauty,” I tell him honestly.

“She’s yours,” he tells me, dangling the key between us for me to take, a grin on his face. “For now.”

“Thank you, son,” I say, knowing better than to say his real name in public.

After wrapping him in another hug, I accept the key from him and straddle the bike. It takes three jumps from this old man to get her cranked; but when I do, the rumble of power coming to life is one of the best sounds in the world and one I didn’t even know I had missed so damn much.

“Here’s a phone with our address and phone numbers in it and some cash to get you to Louisville, too,” Blair says over the roar of the engine, offering me a wad of green bills and a phone that doesn’t flip open like the last one I had. Looking at the device before slipping it into my pocket, I know it’s gonna take me some time to figure out how to work it. Hell, it’s gonna take some time to remember how to live, but these two will give me something worth living for. Blair reminds me so much of her mother that it hurts remembering how she missed out on so many years with her. We all did.

“Now that’s enough spoiling this old man,” I shout so they can hear. “I’ll see you both soon so we can catch up.”

“Can’t wait,” Brede says with a slap on my back.

“Take care of her,” I order him.

“Until my last breath,” he answers. Pulling her to his side, he kisses the top of Blair’s head while her arms wind around his waist.

I must have done something right in the first twelve years of their life because both of my sons make me proud to be their father.

“Love you, both,” I tell them.

“Love you, too,” they say back to me, the words warming me from the inside.

Twisting the throttle, I ride off into the sunset, trying to leave my mistakes behind. My eyes are focused on the road ahead of me. Although I’ll always carry the weight of loss for my son, their mother and the woman I loved more than anything, I feel a little lighter knowing that there are at least two people in this world who think there’s something worth redeeming in me.

Five years later…

Brede

God finally found the perfect way to punish me for my sins.

He’s given me two little girls.

So what if Anna and Macy are only just about to turn five? They’re both as beautiful and sweet as their mama, which means more sleepless nights than I can count worrying about how to keep bad boys and evil men away from them until they turn thirty.

That’s why I’m still a killer, taking out the worst scum of the earth. Nowadays it’s not for money, but to make the world a little bit safer for them so that all the other daddies and I can sleep easier.

Which is partially what led me here, lurking in the shadows outside a deserted North Carolina community park in the middle of the night. Although this one is a little more personal.

Stepping into the light of the restroom, I pull out the withered note from my jacket that I always keep close so I can read it at least once a day. The one Aden left for me while I was in the shower that day five years ago.

“
I love you, bro, and you deserve happiness, a family, a life with Blair. As long as you’re a wanted man, that’ll never happen. Those are all things I’ll never be able to have no matter what, which is why I’m doing this. Don’t feel guilty or any other nonsense. This was my decision, so live life to the fullest and take care of my kid. You know it’s mine, but you can pretend he or she is yours. Tell Dad I love him and tell Blair I’m sorry. Love, Aden”

Folding the note, I slip it back into the inside of my leather jacket, thinking about how it’s a miracle Blair didn’t have a miscarriage from the stress he caused that day. She was hysterical, thinking it was me the police killed until I finally stepped into her hospital room late that night once she was alone. At first, she assumed I was Aden, until I pulled the front of my hoodie up and showed her my tattoos, the ones the police never knew about.

It sucked that we couldn’t even mourn him by his name.

Brede
died that day, and I’ve been Aden ever since. He gave me everything, including his clean criminal record and giant bank account full of money he received as restitution for the shit his foster father did to him.

I miss my brother so goddamn much I can barely stand it. We never got to even share the news with him that we were having twins, and he never got to see or hold our daughters.

A flash of headlights coming off the exit pulls me back to the present. There’s no doubt that’s my man, the one who thinks he’s meeting the fourteen-year-old boy he’s been talking to on Facebook. What an idiot. He couldn’t have made this any easier for me.

My fingers glide over the coarse piece of rope in my pocket and pull it free while I wait for him to get out of his car. I have to remind myself over and over again not to kill this bastard right away. It’s gonna be hard, and that’s exactly why I left my guns at home, locked up tight in the safe.

I hear him clear his throat as he approaches my dark hiding spot just outside the restrooms. My pulse jacks up when he’s close enough for me to make out his lanky features. After nine years in prison, he lost a lot of weight, but it’s definitely him. For the past few weeks since his release I’ve been stalking him on Facebook, and since yesterday watching him through binoculars inside his new fortress surrounded by guards. There was no way for me to get inside, so I had to lure him out of it.

Careful not to even breathe when he’s just three feet away, I let him waltz into the bathroom, giving me his back before I lunge for him.

The rope’s up and taut around his neck before he knows what the fuck’s happening. His momentary struggle only makes his air run out that much faster, and then he’s collapsing to his knees on the dirty bathroom tile.

I actually did it. I let him live, only because the sick fuck doesn’t deserve a quick death. No, he deserves a slow, torturous one. Does it make me an asshole for wanting to stick around and watch? Probably, but I don’t give a shit. I want to see him hurt and beg for death before it’s finally given to him. I need to watch him die, just as I promised my brother. And if the time comes and they can’t take his life, I’ll gladly do it for them.

After I tie his hands behind his back with the rope I strangled him with, I pull out plastic zip ties to reinforce his wrists and add another to his ankles and knees. I don’t want him going anywhere if he wakes up while I’m driving.

Pulling out my phone, I call up Tyson.

Three years ago I finally tracked him down, and thankfully he was still in contact with their foster sister, Faith.

“How’d it go?” Tyson answers right away.

“Out like a light and ready for transport,” I tell him.

“Good. We’re ready at the abandoned house over on Phillips Avenue.”

“Text me the address and I’ll head over,” I say before we end the call.

Fifteen minutes later, my phone’s GPS says I’ve arrived at my destination as I pull up to the pitch-black house in the middle of nowhere. There’s not a neighbor in sight at the dead end of this empty street.

Perfect.

Dickhead is starting to come to when I unload him from the back of our minivan and drag him across the ground by the front collar of his t-shirt, just to be an asshole.

Since Tyson’s watching for me, he opens up the front door without flicking on any porch lights as I walk up. Stepping inside, I see candlelight flickering around the dusty, mildew-scented space, lighting the rooms of the rundown shack.

A young woman, who I assume is Faith, is standing so stock still in the corner of the kitchen that I almost missed her frail form.

“You two sure you’re up for this?” I ask them. “I can take care of it, if not.”

“I need this,” Tyson answers, staring down at the pile of asshole I’m dragging behind me. “Faith?”

“I think I’ll just, um, watch from here,” she says.

“Then he’s all yours,” I tell Tyson, letting him go in the middle of what used to be a living room.

“What the…fuck? What’s…what’s going on?” the fucker asks as Tyson, who is taller and thicker than me, with just as many tats and jet black hair, lifts him up and into a wooden chair. “Ty? Aden?”

“Oh, I didn’t get a chance to introduce myself,” I say as I step forward for him to get a closer look at my face. “I’m not Aden tonight. I’m Azrael, the angel of death, and you, motherfucker, are about to atone for your sins until you beg us to send you to hell.”

From the row of supplies laid out neatly on the coffee table, Tyson picks up more rope and wraps it around the bastard’s midsection, securing him to the back of a rickety chair. Not wasting any time, Tyson undoes the front of the asshole’s pants and jerks them down his legs. Standing up with his chest heaving, he grabs a knife from the table. Without warning, Tyson strolls over and, no shit, starts sawing off the fucker’s dick.

My stomach clenches as the screams of agony echo around the room.

Holy fuck
.

I’m not cut out for this sort of shit
, I think to myself. Turning away, I hold on to the wall and try to keep from retching as the shrieks get louder. But then I remember the years my brother was stuck in a horrible nightmare, all because of this man. What Faith and Tyson also went through because he’s a sick son of a bitch. I realize that they’re a helluva lot stronger than me for what they survived, and nothing they do to him will ever hurt as much as the harm he inflicted on them when they were innocent children.

Steeling my spine, I turn back around just in time to see Tyson shove the bloody, severed cock into the man’s still opened mouth, muffling his cries. After that, Faith’s sniffles from the other side of the room are the loudest sounds, and much more brutal than the sounds of an asshole getting castrated. I head for her, opening my arms for her to make the decision to step into them or not, since I’m not sure if she wants the comfort. God knows my brother barely let anyone touch him.

“You…you look just like Aden,” Faith says before stepping into my embrace, her head against my chest, looking away from what’s going on in the living room.

“I wish he could be here,” I say into her hair, wondering if this would’ve been therapeutic and helped him overcome the past he was still stuck in.

“Me too,” she replies.

“When you walk away tonight, don’t look back. It’s over and done, and he’ll never hurt you or anyone else again. That’s the point of this, okay? Not just for you, Aden and Tyson, but for everyone else,” I tell her, worried that she’ll regret being here.

“I will,” she assures me.

Glancing back over, I watch as Tyson’s palms come up to cover the bastard’s nose; with the dick still in his mouth, he won’t last much longer before he suffocates. I refuse to let my eyes look away until his body goes slack in the chair. As if he’s not completely satisfied that he’s gone, Tyson jabs the knife into the left side of his chest for good measure. It’s a gruesome thing to watch, which is why I much prefer to use my guns.

Knowing that Blair witnessed something similar to this happen to her poor mother at such a young age is heartbreaking. I miss her and my girls so damn much, and in a few hours, I’ll be on the road that takes me back to them.

I may be missing the other half of my soul, but I’ll appreciate every moment of each day I have in this life. Tonight is for Aden, and tomorrow I’ll be back home with my father, my beautiful wife and our two little angels.

My brother sacrificed himself so I could have it all; and for that, I’ll always be grateful.

The End