by LK Shaw
“Not a chance. Even now, federal agents are on their way in here. They’ve been listening to every word you’ve said. You won’t get away with this. Just like you won’t get away with what you did to Casey. How could you do that to your own daughter, Dad? Your friend raped her, time after time. Don’t you even care?”
“She wasn’t my daughter,” he spat out. “She was some little whore your mother tried to pawn off as my daughter. She was merely a means to an end. Edward invested in some of my business dealings. He was a loyal friend who deserved a reward. Unlike you, you ungrateful little shit. You wanted for nothing growing up. Everything money could buy was given to you. And this is how you repay me? By destroying everything I’ve worked so hard for?”
“You’re a monster! Daughter or not, she was thirteen years old. Thirteen! She wasn’t a whore. She was just a little girl.” Fury raced through me, and my body shook with rage. If I had a gun, I would kill my father. He deserved to die.
A banging sounded as the front door crashed open, and Webber and Miles came barging in, both with their guns drawn. Before I could guess his intention, my father grabbed my hair and pulled me up against him, the gun digging into my ribs.
Chapter 39
“Put the gun down,” Webber commanded as he faced off against my father. A command I knew my father would ignore. He had no intention of going down without a fight. Stubbornness was definitely something I’d inherited from him.
“Not a chance. There’s no way I’m going to prison because of this bitch.” Contempt oozed from each word he spewed. It still shocked me how much my father hated me. Even before what happened with Casey, we’d never had a perfect relationship, but it was as though this loathing had been festering long before then. It didn’t matter. This man was nothing to me, and his feelings had no effect. I could give him a run for his money in the hatred department.
I couldn’t help but goad him a little. “Fuck you. You’re going to rot in prison for what you’ve done. Inside you’ll be a nobody with nothing. No money. No power. You won’t have your lackeys there to protect you.”
He dug his gun deeper into my side, drawing a wince from me.
“Shut your fucking mouth. This is your fault. If you would have just left things alone, but no, you had to stick your damn nose into what was none of your business.”
“You gave Casey to men for money. You’re out of your damn mind if you thought for one second that I would let you continue to brutalize her.”
He laughed, a sound that drew chills down my spine. It was diabolical, and something about the tone scared the shit out of me. As though he knew something I didn’t.
“I’m not going to tell you again, Mr. Santiago. Put the gun down. You’re only making things harder on yourself. You don’t want to add murder to your list of crimes.” Webber continued his steady aim at my father. All this time I’d avoided looking at Miles, but instinctively my eyes were drawn to him. His gun was also drawn, but there was an infinitesimal shake to his hands that I only noticed because I was looking for it. His face was ashen, but focused. I knew this was killing him, because of the memories it brought back. If things went from bad to worse, I prayed he wouldn’t fall back into the darkness, because this time, I didn’t think anything would reach him.
“Fuck you.”
Those were the last words I heard as my father turned his gun toward Miles and multiple shots rang out. A scream resonated through the air, and I realized it came from me. I blinked several times, but the scene in front of me didn’t change. Both Webber and Miles stood with their guns still drawn and no obvious signs of injury. I scanned Miles from head to toe, praying I wasn’t missing something. A groan of pain from next to me alerted me that someone’s bullet had hit its mark.
My head followed the sound. Standing at the back of the living room stood Agent Morgan, his gun drawn. My gaze dropped, and crumpled on the floor at my feet lay my father, blood slowly pooling beneath him, agony etched into his face. He coughed, blood spraying out of his mouth with the effort.
“You always thought you were so smart.” Even facing death, the bastard remained smug. “Yet, after all these years, you never knew about my little secret.”
“You have no secrets left. I know everything about you.”
He attempted to laugh, but it turned into another choked cough. When the cough subsided, he spoke again. “You’re not so fucking smart this time.”
I refrained from railing at him to talk. He wouldn’t tell me if he thought I couldn’t take not knowing any longer. It was best to act as though I didn’t care what secrets he took to the grave. And the grave was where he was headed. Slowly. Painfully. Just like he deserved.
My expression remained blank even though I was moments from caving and begging him to tell me. Finally, he spoke again. “At this precise moment, your sister is being prepared to be sold at an auction. And you’ll never find her. Even you’re not that good.” He coughed again, his breathing becoming shallower.
My brows furrowed in confusion. He must be delirious as he approached death. Casey was safely tucked away in a small cottage I’d bought several years ago when I began preparing to destroy my father. My curiosity forced me to ask. “What are you talking about? Casey is far from here, protected from you and your evil. There is nothing you can do to her now.”
Sinister laughter echoed in the air. “I’m not talking about Casey. I’m talking about Phebe. Your half-sister. Her mother was some whore I fucked who owed me money.”
I reeled back in shock. A half-sister? I had another sister that I’d never known about? How had I missed her in all the files I had on my dad?
Not wanting to sound desperate, even though I knew the emotion came through, I barked out my question.
“Where is she? What have you done to her?”
“Oh, I haven’t done anything to her. Her loser boyfriend sold her off to some member of the Russian mafia to pay the debts he owed me. She could be anywhere. I neither know nor care.”
A maniacal laugh poured from him, but quickly turned to coughing as blood continued to bubble out of and down his mouth. His labored breathing slowed, until finally, it stopped. I could only stare at my father’s body as the impact of what I’d just discovered sank in. Warmth surrounded me as I found myself in Miles’ embrace. He pulled me close as chills threatened me. Could my father be telling the truth? My heart said yes. It would be just like him to torture me like this, even in death.
“Oh my god, Miles. The terror and pain she must be going through right now. We have to help her.”
Miles arms tightened around me, and I absorbed his strength. “We will, Josephine.”
“Son of a bitch. We got nothing from this,” Agent Morgan said in disgust.
I whipped around to face him, anger coloring my words. “Is that all you care about? That you didn’t get what you wanted? My father pulled a gun on me and could have killed any of us in this room, and you only care about your stupid info?”
In my rage, I snatched the flash drive from my pocket and hurled it at them, hitting Crocker, who’d quietly appeared next to Morgan during my father’s confession, in the chest.
“Here’s your fucking info. Everything I’ve collected on my father for the last seven years. It’s all yours. Figure that shit out on your own. In the meantime, I’m going to find my sister and get her out of whatever hell hole she’s been delivered to.”
Webber moved to stand in front of me, a conciliatory look on his face.
“We’ll do what we can to find your sister, Ms. Bishop. I’d like to speak with you later today or tomorrow. Get your statement about what happened today. I am anxious to find justice. I’ll need the evidence against the mayor and the chief.”
Absently, I nodded my head at his request. Horrifying images of what Phebe must be going through continued to race through my mind. I vowed I would do everything I could to find her.
Two months later
* * *
“I’ll call again in a coup
le days and stop by next week, okay? Oh, and please stop giving Philip a hard time when he comes by, will you? He hates making you feel so uncomfortable, and he tries to leave you alone as much as possible. He’s a friend, Casey, and I swear, he won’t hurt you. I love you. Bye.”
I hung up the phone after ending my twice-weekly call to Casey. I’d invited her to come live with Miles and me after we’d moved in together, but she declined. She said she wanted to stay in the cottage she’d been taken to when I’d liberated her from my father’s house. She still refused to go outside so I’d hired Philip, the bouncer from Eden, to stop in every few days and take her groceries and to check the property to make sure that everything was secure. I was monitoring the inside, but Philip was former military, and I trusted him to help look after Casey.
Both of us were dealing with our father’s death in our own way. For me, I still woke from the occasional nightmare. I hated that he could return from the grave like that and manage to fuck with my life. But, it was difficult to get over having a gun shoved in your face by your father no less. After his death, my mother took to her bed, alcohol and Valium her coping mechanism. Honestly, I thought she’d be relieved that she was finally free, but no. She was so mentally broken down she didn’t know how to be now that she was no longer under his control. It was as though my father had entirely removed her free will over the last thirty years. It was sad to see, but any sympathy for my mother had long been destroyed. If she wasn’t strong enough, then there was nothing I could do for her.
Other than dealing with the occasional flashback, I was happy. Miles made me happy. Knowing my father could have killed me made me truly realize how precious and short life is, and I refused to waste any time by not grabbing what I wanted and holding it tight. Three weeks after my father’s death, Miles packed up his apartment and moved into my house. A week after that, I was searching online and found a gorgeous leather cord necklace with silver O-ring.
My fingers had twitched over the keyboard as I contemplated if I was ready to take that step. Asking Miles if he’d accept my collar was a huge leap in our relationship, and I was terrified of what he would say. I’d silently argued back and forth with myself, my cursor hovering over the purchase button, before, finally, I took the plunge and bought it. He was still learning how to be submissive, and I wasn’t sure if he was ready for the level of commitment a collar represented.
The collar had been buried all the way in the back of my underwear drawer for the last month. Every few days I took it out and looked at it, picturing it around Miles’ neck. Each day the urge grew stronger to place it there, until finally, I knew it was time. This weekend, I was planning on asking Miles to accept my collar. I started sweating at the thought.
Tearing me from my musings, a ping sounded from my computer. I logged in and clicked a few icons. Praying my eyes weren’t deceiving me, my fingers flew across the keys, tapping out a staccato of sound that pierced my ears. Tears formed at the information in front of me.
“Miles,” I screamed.
Footsteps pounded down the hallway as a breathless Miles stumbled into the room, sleep still in his eyes.
“What happened? Are you all right?”
I turned my head to him as the tears poured down my face.
“I found her.”
Epilogue
Phebe
* * *
Death.
* * *
Blessed release.
Neither would be coming for me no matter how much I wished otherwise. Instead, I was stuck living in this hell I now called life. A sob disguised as a laugh escaped before I could stop it, and the echo of the sound bouncing off the walls mocked me. I thought I was going mad, and to be honest, I welcomed the madness. Perhaps if I were mad, I could forget what was happening to me. Sadly, I knew no such thing would happen. No matter what they did to me, my mind remained intact. Luck never came to people like me.
I closed my eyes and pictured sunlight. I thought about the sun and the way the rays of light would catch on a raindrop and produce the brilliant colors of the rainbow. The way it sparkled like diamonds on glistening, white snow. I could almost swear my body heated slightly with the thought of the sun shining down on it. Mentally, I absorbed the heat and forced the chills to escape my cold, half-naked form lying on the even colder floor.
A countless number of days had passed, how many I couldn’t tell. I’d lost track, and soon they ran together in nothing but one endless night. One that was nightmare filled. A shiver racked my body and my mind drifted back to the faux sunshine coming through the non-existent window in my cell wall. And it was a cell. Gray stone walls surrounded me on three sides, and I refused to open my eyes to the steel bars in front of me. I didn’t need to open them to know they were there. I received daily reminders when my captors led me through them to whatever fate awaited me on the other side.
A muffled sound came from far away, but I ignored it. My punishment would come soon enough. I didn’t think about it unless I had to. The sound grew louder, but I blocked the noise out. Sunshine was my only friend in this bleak existence I now found myself in. I heard a crash outside the entrance to the room my cell was housed in. Instinctively, I flinched when the door slammed open. I didn’t move again. Not that it would have mattered. I would have made myself smaller, and less conspicuous, if I thought it would make a difference. I remained curled on my side, my knees tucked to my chest. I’d learned after the first few days to stop fighting. My struggles only turned them on more.
“Phebe? Phebe Lawson?”
Well, shit, I guess wishes do come true. My mind had finally snapped. Knowing I wouldn’t see anything, I forced my eyes to open and raised my head, because I thought my eyes were deceiving me. Blink. Blink. A hazy outline of a man, with what appeared to be a gun drawn, stood silhouetted in the doorway. Finally, death had come to take me away. A sweet relief coursed through me, and my head sagged back down to the floor.
“She’s in here! She’s alive.” The booming voice sounded too loud in my ears.
Metal against metal scraped my eardrums as a key was thrust into the lock of my cell door. It clanged against the wall as it was hastily tore open. Tentative footsteps moved closer, and I waited for the gunshot. I hoped he made it quick. However, instead of the pain of a bullet, the bittersweet pain of a soft touch floated across my hair, gently moving it out of my face.
“Phebe.” The deep male voice came from directly above me. Why was he torturing me? Just do it and get it over with. Against my will, a tear spilled from behind my closed eyes. A thumb ghosted across my cheek taking the moisture with it, causing another involuntary flinch. “Phebe, my name is Daniel Webber. I’m with the Pinegrove Police. I’m here to take you home.”
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Thank you for reading REDEMPTION. I hope you enjoyed it. I’d greatly appreciate a review on the platform of your choice. Reviews are so important!
* * *
Katie stumbles into Webber’s life and he’ll never be the same. Find out what happens in PROTECT.
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Get PROTECT today.
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Turn the page for a preview.
Protect
My name is Detective Daniel Webber, and I am in deep shit.
It all started a year ago when I was working on what I thought was an open-and-shut case involving a murdered prostitute. We had the john in custody, and he’d confessed. That was where I fucked up. I’d let a rookie cop make the arrest. A rookie cop who made one of the biggest mistakes a cop could ever make. He neglected to read the suspect his Miranda rights.
I wasn’t diligent in my duties and a killer walked.
I was on the verge of being suspended so I made sure to tread lightly around other not so open-and-shut cases. One of which hadn’t been opened yet when it was brought to my attention. A young boy was suspected of being abused by his uncle, who had become his guardian after the death of the boy’s adoptive parents.
I was already on thin ice
with my Chief, so I had to take care with unfounded presumptions. I couldn’t start hounding a man without proof. This was where I fucked up again. The man who’d brought the allegations of abuse to me, Connor Black, was somewhat of a… frenemy, for lack of a better term. We weren’t enemies, but we certainly weren’t friends.
The boy had called his birth mother for help. I went to speak with her and instantly felt a spark of attraction. An attraction that became sort of a pissing contest between Black and me considering he was in love with her. I was so intent on pushing Black’s buttons that I lost focus on what my end goal should have been: taking care of people in need.
I forgot I was a cop.
I forgot my job was to serve and protect.
A job I failed to do. Lives were almost lost, including that of Black’s ladylove.
Then, a month ago, I was involved in yet another case, one that brought to light a significant amount of corruption within the department. Corruption in the higher echelons of the entire public service entity, starting with cops in my department, including the Chief, all the way up to the Mayor’s office. I held all the evidence and shit had been going down ever since. People I trusted and respected were dirty. With the way I was feeling about the whole situation, it made me want to take justice into my own hands, especially when it involved the trafficking of women.
Because of my connection to the collector of said evidence, my career was in even further jeopardy and my life on a downward spiral. Losing myself in booze and women became my coping mechanism. Maybe it wasn’t the best choice, but fuck it, it was how I dealt.