Redeemed (The Dark Redemption Series Book 2) (8 page)

Aden

“So when did you realize dad was innocent?” Brede asks as we head through Tennessee. The two of us have switched seats, so he’s driving while I sit in the passenger seat and Blair sleeps stretched out in the back.

“Since the day he was arrested,” I tell him. “How could you think our father, the man who worked as a heating and repair guy in the day and a security guard at night to take care of us, and  still managed to get up early enough to fix breakfast and get us ready for school, could be a murderer?”

“We were twelve. Everyone said he did it, otherwise why would he get arrested? I had no idea the DA was a piece of shit back then,” Brede argues defensively. “I was angry at dad that he would do something to leave us, and then split us up…

“I was really fucking angry too,” I tell him. “He never even got a chance to say goodbye or assure us that he didn’t do it.” The police took him into custody while we were in school, and by the time the bus dropped us off, social services was waiting for us.

“Yeah, those first few days felt like living in a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from,” Brede says with a shake of his head.

“Those days were nothing compared to the next few years,” I tell him.

“So why did you change your name?” He glances over at me, and then quickly puts his eyes back on the road. “I tried to find you, but Aden Rawls was nowhere to be found.”

“Aden Rawls died in that shithole of a house when I left it,” I mutter, tugging on my seatbelt that suddenly feels like it’s choking me. “After I ran away and turned them in, I ended up working with the feds for several months, helping them set up for the sting. They gave me room and board, kept me up at a hotel near their offices. Watching them, I knew that’s what I wanted to do too, be one of the guys who help innocent people like Dad and other kids in the same situation, you know? I thought it would be easier to help Dad’s case if we didn’t have the same last name. So I changed it, twice, hoping to bury my real one.”

“Oh,” Brede replies. “That explains why I couldn’t find you. But did you ever try to find me?”

“Yes, but there were no license or voter registrations on file for you until you were seventeen, and then a few weeks later you were on active duty in the military. I even hung out around Louisville after you came back, thinking you would show up back in town,” I admit. “When you didn’t, I tapped into your foster parents’ phone and traced you by your cell phone location for a few weeks. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that wherever you went, a man was soon found dead.”

“So you’ve been following me around but didn’t bother to reach out to me?”

“You were killing people, Brede!” I exclaim. “I was doing what I could to try and save dad, and you were doing everything you could to end up right there in prison with him.”

“It wasn’t like I was killing innocent people,” he grumbles, to which I remain silent. “What?” he asks. When he glances over at me, I nod to the back where Blair’s sleeping. “That was desperation,” he replies. “Do you really think I would’ve ever pulled the trigger on her? Because I don’t. I always take the first clear shot, and I had plenty with her.”

“If you had killed her, I would’ve finally turned you in,” I admit to him.

“If I had killed someone as innocent as her, I would’ve deserved nothing less than lethal injection,” he agrees. “But Dad would probably have killed me first. Can you believe she was supposed to be our sister?”

“Yeah, then Dad would’ve killed us for even thinking about touching her,” I snort.

“We used to swim with her. On Saturdays at the pool,” he tells me.

“That was her?” I reply, looking over my shoulder at her sleeping form again. “She was the skinny little girl that the wind could’ve blown away?”

“Yeah, thinking back, Dad always wanted to go to the pool to spend time with her mom.” Brede clears his throat and squirms in his seat, as if he’s uncomfortable before he says, “Blair thinks her mom was pregnant with Dad’s baby when she was killed,” he tells me softly.

“Jesus. Dad’s never mentioned that to me, but I know he’s still really torn up about losing her.”

“Do you think he blames himself, you know, for the DA finding out?” Brede asks.

“Of course he blames himself! That’s why he’s always thought that he belongs in prison, for putting her and Blair in danger and not saving them.”

“Man, we’re gonna end that. We’ll get him out, and then everything can go back to normal,” Brede says.

Right, things may go back to normal for him and Blair. Maybe even Dad can try to move on with his life once he’s a free man. But how the fuck do I move on? There’s no way I can pretend like everything is fine and normal when the past still has me by the dick every second of every day.

Concentrating on my job and getting our dad out of prison is the only thing that helps keep the demons at bay, the ones telling me I’m a sick bastard who only gets off on hurting people. Once he’s released, I’m not sure what I’ll do with myself. I do know that there’s no way I can sit around and watch Brede and Blair play house while I watch from a distance, just close enough to want what I know I’ll never have.

…

Hours later, we arrive in the city where Brede grew up with his new family. After I secure us a suite at a hotel, one that Brede insisted have two bedrooms because he apparently wants us together but separate, he calls his foster parents and tells them we’re coming by.

“Brede! It’s been too long,” a small, balding man old enough to be our grandfather says when he opens the front door of the one-story brick home. The two men embrace, and I’m not sure if it’s jealousy or anger I feel seeing my brother with his surrogate family. “Come in, come in,” he tells me and Blair once they break apart.

We step inside; and after the door shuts, the man looks at the two of us with a smile as Brede makes introductions. “Jim, this is Aden and Blair.”

“Wow. Aden, I’m so glad you two found each other. Brede worried himself to death over you,” the man says. And when he takes a step forward to greet me with a hug, Brede throws his arm between us.

“Go easy, old man,” Brede tells him, but Blair steps forward and hugs him without prompting.

“Such a beauty. Happy to meet you, Blair,” Jim says to her after they embrace, still holding her at an arm’s length. “Paula is gonna love you two. Come in, make yourselves at home.”

Brede leads the way into the living room. And when I walk in, he’s already on his knees beside the thin, frail woman’s recliner, hugging her. I’m more envious than ever of him at that moment because I’ve never had a mother. The woman who gave birth to us killed herself to escape raising us, and the one who took me in was rarely ever seen, either shopping or out partying all night. She only married her asshole husband because he was rich as fuck, old money from several automotive chains. And with his huge trust fund, neither he nor his worthless wife had to work.

Our “mother” knowingly left us there with the man who molested us around the clock. She had to have known that the sick fuck bought us just to play with us like we were dispensable toys, and she didn’t do shit to stop it, which is why she’s serving a prison sentence as well. My foster brother and sister weren’t the first kids to go through their house, and if I hadn’t helped the police bring them down, we wouldn’t have been the last. Why no one reported them before is beyond me. Probably because they thought that if they did, the two rich fuckers would just throw some money around and make the allegations magically disappear.

“Welcome home, Brede,” the woman says, squeezing him to her. She’s just as old as the man, with short white hair and skin so thin it looks transparent. “We’ve missed you.”

“I’m sorry I was an ungrateful asshole,” he tells her softly. “And I’m sorry you’re going through this.”

“We’ve told you before that you don’t need to apologize for the wrecking ball that came through your life. You were just a boy, Brede.”

“Thank you, for everything. I should’ve told you that sooner,” he replies.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, son. Now are you gonna introduce us?” she asks, looking at me and Blair over Brede’s shoulder.

“Wow. Seeing you two together…it was so wrong what they did to you,” she says, her eyes watering as Brede gets to his feet.

“Aden changed his name. That’s why I couldn’t find him,” he tells her. “He was trying to help our dad. Can you believe he’s innocent? He was set up by Blair’s father for the death of her mother. Blair, this is Paula. Paula, meet my girlfriend, Blair.”

Wow, aren’t they moving fast? My brother, who seemed incapable of being with one woman for more than an hour, is apparently ready to commit to Blair, the girl he was supposed to kill and instead ended up saving.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you,” Blair says when she walks across the room and bends down to hug Paula.

“I’m so glad Brede found a sweet girl like you. He may look tough on the outside, but he’s soft on the inside,” she tells her, making Blair smile.

“If it wasn’t for him, I would be dead,” Blair admits, reaching for Brede’s hand.

I wonder if Brede’s parents know about how he earns a living, going around killing people. I seriously doubt it. Part of me wants to tell them, to out him and drive a wedge between them. But that’s not fair, especially when no good would come of my jealousy. I wouldn’t feel any better at his loss. I’ll still be drowning in misery, and then Brede would be hurting too.

“Well, have a seat, and let’s catch up,” Paula tells Brede, tugging the throw blanket covering her up higher.

“Are you sure you feel like company?” Brede asks.

“Of course! Jim, get the kids something to drink,” she orders.

“No, thanks, I’m fine,” Brede and I assure her simultaneously. The two of us look at each other and grin because we used to say the same thing at the exact same time several times a day when we were kids, but it’s the first time it’s happened since we’ve found each other again. Chuckling, Jim ignores us and heads to the back of the house anyway.

Brede leads Blair over to the sofa and sits down, still holding her hand, so I take the empty seat next to her.

“Blair, you look awfully young. Are you still going to school?” Paula asks, and I can practically feel the warmth of Blair’s embarrassment radiating from her cheeks.

“She’s been locked away in a mental hospital by her father for ten years,” Brede explains bluntly, causing Paula’s eyes to widen in surprise.

“That’s terrible!” she exclaims. “You poor thing.”

“How exactly did you escape?” I can’t help but ask her.

“Well, um, there was this tiny window in my room that had been sealed shut,” Blair starts to explain, brushing her hair shyly behind her ear. “I had been refusing food and chipping away at it for what felt like years. But when I got the postcard from my dad saying he was remarrying, I stopped eating everything and worked all day and night. Every second I had, I used the bottom of a plastic fork to peel off the layers of paint. Eventually, I got it opened, waited until the middle of the night and then jumped out from the second story, feet first. After that, the chain-link fence around the property was a piece of cake to get over.”

“Jesus,” Brede mutters. “No wonder you’re so thin and eat like you’re starving,” he said, reaching over to squeeze her lower belly.

There’s a sudden shift in the air, like a heaviness weighing us down, and I realize that something’s up with my twin and Blair. Feeling like an outsider, I jump to my feet.

“Let me see if I can help Jim with the drinks,” I say, just because the room is so suffocating that I can’t take another second. I wander around the small house until I find the kitchen. “Need any help?” I ask him.

“Ah, sure Bre…I mean, Aden,” he says after he does a double take and turns around to face me. “God, you two look so much alike. And I’m not sure if he told you, but I promise you, Aden, Paula and I did everything under the sun that we could to try and adopt you too. When they told us we couldn’t because of our income…well, Paula got a job working at the grocery store down the street, and I picked up as much overtime as I could get at the factory, but they said it still wasn’t enough.”

“Um, thank you,” I say, rubbing a palm over the back of my heated neck, his words almost clogging up my throat. “I wish it had worked, but that means a lot that you tried.”

“Was your family good to you?” he asks.

“No,” I reply stiffly. “They weren’t, and now they’re in prison.”

“Oh, fuck. I’m so sorry, Aden. We hoped for the best. They wouldn’t tell us where you went even after we begged them to just let the two of you talk on the phone or write letters. They refused. But if we had known how to find you…well, let’s just say that we wouldn’t have gone the legal route.”

“I appreciate that, and it’s good to know someone thought about me. Those four years I was there…I didn’t think anyone gave a shit about me.”

“We did. We do,” he says. “Anything you need, you let us know.”

“So was Brede as bad as the kid from
Problem Child
?” I ask him to lighten the mood. Stepping up to the counter, I hold each of the glasses steady when he starts to pour tea from a pitcher into them.

“Oh, Brede was worse,” he answers with a chuckle. “The first few months he kept trying to run away. I don’t know which was harder on me and Paula, knowing that he didn’t want to stay with us, or the fact that we always found him sitting in the lobby of the train station, dejected because he didn’t have anywhere else to go.”