Redemption (6 page)

Chapter Seven

Chose a gun and threw away the sun

Bish

I went down into the tubes, holding my breath until I reached the bottom. I used to do that when we’d been stationed on the subs for a while and, no, I don’t fucking know why I do it. Probably the same reason Mathias holds his breath when he passes a cemetery—another superstition we knew was foolish but weren’t sure wasn’t true.

It was easier to just hold your breath.

I knew Caspar was with Tru because storms were the best time for the men and their women to catch up and man, I hated interrupting them. Tru hated the tubes, less now than several months ago but still, she was claustrophobic and Caspar usually had to try several interesting and exceedingly private methods of calming her down.

Lucky for me, Caspar was walking the halls, barefoot and looking pretty well relaxed, despite the weather. I was tense as anything but damned good at not showing it and I wished I could trade places with Mathias right now. Then again, the damned guy hadn’t gotten laid in a while and he’d suddenly gone head over heels for Princess Jessa.

Which could, of course, be the biggest mistake for both our lives, because let’s face it, we were intertwined as hell.

“Get caught at the lake?” Caspar asked me, motioning for me to walk with him. We ended up in his kitchen, where he closed the door behind me, obviously knowing I’d been hunting him down. Subtlety wasn’t my strong suit.

“Little trouble at the lake,” I clarified, and launched into what happened. Tru came to listen at some point and I could see that Caspar was torn between letting her stay and telling her to go into the other room. Habits were ingrained in him not to let women hear the problems in Defiance. I thought it was a good plan, but the majority of the women disagreed heartily with me.

Tru wasn’t going anywhere. Granted, she already knew the problems Defiance had with Keller’s mafia crew and they’d started long before Mathias and I arrived. To say that Keller wasn’t happy with Defiance was an understatement. From what I’d learned, the relationship had always been semi-contentious but Lance, the former Defiance president, had mostly managed to smooth things over. Usually using Caspar’s blunt force. Then Roan, Lance’s son, had cut deals with Keller regarding the production of the tubes, and Keller expected that deal to be honored, despite the fact that Lance and Roan were dead.

When Caspar talked about it, I didn’t bother telling him that we were sorry. Caspar knew we were. “Woulda done the same damned thing,” he added.

“I wouldn’t’ve, if I’d been alone,” I told him, and both Caspar and Tru eyed me. I shrugged unapologetically. “This shit is exactly why we don’t save people.”

“You saved me,” Tru pointed out.

“No choice. Caspar would’ve killed us.”

“If he wasn’t around, you’d have handed me to the cops?” Tru asked me.

“I’m supposed to say no, right?” I asked, could picture Mathias signing,
Say no
,
Bish
, like my conscience and so I repeated, “No, Bish,” with a grin.

“Even when you two aren’t together, you’re together,” she said with a grin of her own , then sobered. “This is serious, Cas.”

Caspar nodded. “Need some time to think on this.”

“I hear you. Gonna go rest up for a while. Mathias is keeping her company and the president’s son’s all tied up,” I said and ignored Caspar’s groan, getting out of there calling, “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

Yeah, I might’ve seemed casual, but
I
was all tied up inside. I knew what Caspar was going to want from Mathias, and I also knew how far Mathias had fallen in that single moment of seeing Jessa. Saving her only cemented his feelings.

Chapter Eight

Fool them all but baby I can tell

Jessa

Mathias mouthed things as he made love to me, and I caught some of the words like
pretty
and
gorgeous
and
want to fuck you
and I could feel him talking against my neck. I didn’t know what he was saying but it didn’t matter, not when his hands lingered on my body like he had all the time in the world.

What do you want?
he’d asked me earlier, and I’d told him, “To do whatever I want to until the storm ends. No consequences or guilt.”

Sounds like a plan
, he’d mouthed.

Now, in the aftermath, I was shy, and all I could think to ask was, “Was it hard growing up and not being able to talk?”

He shook his head, mouthed,
Dad
, then put a finger over his lips.

“Your dad couldn’t speak either?” I asked and he nodded. “Is it hard for you to communicate with everyone here?”

He studied me for a long moment before answering and I wondered if I’d offended him.
Are you finding it hard?

“No,” I told him. “Not hard at all.” As if to prove it, I ran my hands over his shoulders, pressed my lips to his neck and then fluttered over his throat like I was worshipping it. He bared his throat, granting me the access I wanted. And I wanted.

I was out of my element and yet, I somehow felt like I’d landed in the right place. The world might’ve turned dark and cold for a lot of people, but for me, it had always been that way. And finally, I’d found a light in Defiance, and more importantly, with Mathias.

I should be wondering what happened now, what happened next, but I remained in the safety of Mathias’s arms and shoved away everything else but the feel of his body against mine. I was relaxed and buzzed at the same time, and he was playing the beat of the music along my bare back and shoulders. Half massage, half caress, and I hoped the songs never stopped. The heavy bass tore through me, opened me up and broke me. Putting myself back together was up to me.

During the darkness, with the lights flickering overhead and inside the double safety of the van and the music, I felt like we were living in an entirely different world. I never wanted to leave this bubble, because when I did, there would be lots of questions and even more decisions to make. Wherever we were, there had to be a president and I’d have explaining to do.

The fact that Mathias stayed here with me while the rest of Defiance was hunkered down somewhere told me that. The fact that Charlie was in the next room made things even stranger, but my blood boiled with anger just thinking about him, so I forced myself not to. I wouldn’t worry this time away. I’d enjoy it, the way I had the past several hours.

Here, I wasn’t the vice president’s daughter. I was just Jessa and nothing else mattered until the earth stopped rumbling. Still, it didn’t stop me from blurting out, “I never do this.”

Mathias slid a glance my way and bit back a smile. Typed,
Pre
—
or post-Chaos?

“Both,” I insisted. I wanted to ask if he did this all the time, slept with random women after only knowing them for a little while, but I didn’t really want to know the answer. I was pretty sure he didn’t go around finding women to rescue, though, so at least I held a top-of-the-line position there.

Still, this could be a one-night stand. I had to prepare myself for whatever came next, including these men trying to barter me for money. At least I knew why I was naked with Mathias. I slept with him because I almost died and I’d wanted to live. Because a man I thought I loved betrayed me, while a total stranger killed for me. Literally killed for me.

You know why you did it
,
right?
Mathias typed.

“Because you’re hot?” I teased and I swore I saw the hint of blush on the tattooed biker’s face.

He shook his head and mouthed something to himself—I could’ve sworn it was,
I
walked right into that one
, before he typed,
You found out you get to keep living.

He let me digest that for a long moment and then explained,
For a lot of people who weren’t in your position
,
they think it’s about not dying.
But when you really think about it
,
you found out today that you get to keep on living instead.
And that’s a whole other ball game.

I thought about that. For the past weeks, it had been about not dying, and that simple reversal, the concept of getting to keep on living, was amazing and liberating. And a justification as to why I felt renewed.

But would those feelings stay past this moment? Already, Mathias had started to root around for his clothes, which meant that Defiance would start stirring soon enough. The sounds of the storm had abated—I could only tell because he’d put on slower music.

Before he could pull his shirt on, I caught his arm and ignored the ugly scars on my own wrist, the way I always did. I traced the tattoo on his forearm and realized there were scars under the ink that you couldn’t see. But under my fingers, I felt the ridge and I looked up at him with what must’ve been a question on my face.

On purpose
, he mouthed, but he signed too, which must be an ingrained habit. I was personally fascinated by it. And by his mouth too, which meant lip-reading certainly wasn’t a chore.

“Why?”

It’s a custom where I’m from.
A
good-luck charm.

“You did that?”

My friend did this one.

“But you tattoo.”

He nodded and I pointed to myself. He raised a brow and I said, “I’m sure.”

He nodded in agreement but really, he was simply humoring me. Neither of us knew how long I’d be there. And I was sure he’d get in some kind of trouble for getting close to me.

You look sad
, he mouthed.
Why?

“The storm’s my saving grace right now.”

Most people don’t think that way about a storm that lasts nearly twenty-four hours.

“When it’s over, then things will change. This—” I pointed between us, “—will change. And I might have to go back home and I never want to go back there, to the way things were.” I paused to take a breath. “I bet you can’t understand that.”

Don’t bet against me.

“I’m sure your friends here will have all kinds of questions for me.”

He didn’t deny that, simply said,
I’ve got one for you too.

“Okay. That’s fair.”

He studied me for a few seconds, then mouthed,
Who are you
,
Jessa?

In the past, it would’ve been so simple to answer that. I was the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the world. But I’d been fighting everything my whole life because that’s not only who I was. That’s who—what—I was supposed to be, and nothing more. Marrying Charlie to make our empire stronger during this time of political uncertainty was something that should’ve strengthened me. Instead, I was painfully aware of how much of a mistake I’d made.

“I don’t know,” I told him, my voice strangled with tears. “I really don’t know.”

Nothing wrong with that
,
as long as you’re willing to find out.

Was I? Did I have a choice?

Everyone has a choice.

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. “You really believe that?”

He nodded, then his hand was combing through my hair, pushing it off my shoulder, then rubbing my bare skin. My breasts were exposed—I’d never been this exposed and comforted at the same time.

If Mathias believed I had a choice, maybe it was time for me to start believing it too. This was the first day on a new path.

Tonight is our last stand

Mathias

Jessa was looking at my tattoo again and she was rubbing one of her wrists as she did so. Whether it was consciously or not, it didn’t matter. We both had scars, but the reasons for hers had to be different.

“Mine had nothing to do with a charm,” she said to me now. “Then again, I don’t believe in charms anyway. If I believed in charms, I’d have to believe in curses too.”

What do you believe in?

“I think you have to create your own destiny. Sometimes it’s hard, because you can’t always control what’s happening in your life.”

So you’re logical.

“The look on your face tells me you think that’s a dirty word.”

You need to live a little.

“Live a little?” She motioned around her and I nodded, because if you couldn’t free yourself now, you never had a shot. When I told her that, she rubbed her scars again and nodded, like she was considering it.

When I was younger
,
my mama used to tell me these stories—they were true stories
,
and they were always about fate and faith and finding your path.

“Did you?”

I’m still looking for my line in the sand.
And even if I find it
,
who knows if there’s a time I’d need to cross it.

“I grew up with logic. That was what my parents expected of me.”

So you don’t believe in fate either?

“I don’t think so.”

I
think you’re lying to yourself.

She blinked at me and said, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

Killing me softly

Jessa

There were dozens of tapes in several containers in the back. There were a lot of cassette tapes of groups, but also a lot of handmade tapes.

Mixed tapes
, he called them.
They were a big thing back in the ’80s
,
before CDs and shit.
You liked someone
,
you made them a tape.
You broke up with someone
,
you made a tape with sad songs.

“I did that on my iPod.” I marveled at how much work must’ve gone into the tapes. With iTunes, it was really easy to create playlists but with this, someone had obviously selected each tape, sat there while it played and listened.

This is better.

“I agree.” I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed my music until right then, how centered whatever he’d played had made me. When Mathias first put the music on in the van, it had calmed me. For weeks, my life had been silent, void of comfort, and there had been just rough conversation and fear. “I had some of these songs on my iPod.”

Bullshit.

“What? A girl can’t like Mötley Crüe?”

Not a girl like you.

“I’m hoping that’s some kind of compliment.”

It is.

“But honestly, I love their stuff. Especially their first album.” I used to search through iTunes to find songs I liked, lyrics that spoke to me.

Mathias put on “Home Sweet Home” and the opening piano notes gave me goose bumps. Because my home had never been that, but here, in this cold warehouse in the middle of a storm, I felt more at home than I ever had in my life. And because I didn’t know what that meant, I tried to bury any feeling.

My dad made these for my mom
, he explained
.
He used to say that he’d courted her hard
,
and that she played hard to get
,
but in the end
,
she couldn’t resist.

“He chased her? She must’ve loved that. Every girl wants that.”

They do?

I stared into his dark eyes and almost lost myself again. “Yeah, they do,” I said softly and the corner of his lip quirked up a little as he typed,
I’ll keep that in mind
.

“So what finally made her give in?” I asked.

She was pretty reluctant.
A
good girl who was being chased by a wild bayou guy.
In the end
,
she gave up a lot for him.
She was a really talented artist—oils and some sculpture—and she was being courted by a lot of people in the art scene.
They wanted her to study in Europe
,
and to live there
,
actually.

“Did she stop painting?”

Never.
She sold a lot of art
,
but she didn’t do the art scene.
A
gallery show here and there
, which
added to her mystery because she didn’t show up in person.
But Dad was always confident she’d be happiest in the bayou.

“So he made her these.”

Yeah.
I
was only able to save some of them.
He made her a lot of tapes when they were dating and that’s the music Bish and I grew up on.
Then he put them all together for her on her phone.
But I liked the idea of a tape.
I
liked that you could hand someone something.
It took time to make them.

I traced the plastic cassette cover, noting that the handwriting had faded a bit. “I can see that this took time.”

Every song has to mean something.
Some you like
,
some she likes
...

“It’s so different than a playlist. I know my parents didn’t make this.” I held out the tape to him. “Can we play this?”

He popped it in. He said it was the first one his father had ever made for his mom and as I sat and listened to the words, I pictured a courtship I’d never see. But I understood a lot more about Mathias, and his sentimentality. And I knew I could love him for it.

I also knew that, before this, I’d been fooling myself thinking I knew anything about love.

The music surrounded me, warm and comfortable in some ways, out of control in so many more. With Charlie, I’d been looking for escape. I’d thought Charlie understood me when really, he’d just been playing me.

Any other favorites in here?

I looked through the boxes, pointing out some of our other shared favorites. Who would’ve thought that a biker boy from the bayou and a Washington princess would have the same taste in anything.