The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

  “This is wrong. We shouldn’t be doing this,” she chastises herself, pushing her hips into me as our hands wander. I take the cue and cup her ass, letting my fingers skim under her loose shorts and over the nirvana that lies between her thighs. The material is sodden with her arousal, spurring my own desire. She’s as desperate for me as I am for her.

  “You and I could never be wrong,” I pant, capturing her mouth again and grinding against her. She rotates her hips and I see stars. I lift Nyla from her feet, carrying her down the hall toward our bedroom with Benji circling us, yapping incessantly.

  “Benji shush!” I bark back, pressing Nyla against the wall in the hallway, afraid I’ll trip over the noisy beast if I keep moving forward.

  “Memphis, wait,” she protests against my lips, but drops her head to the side giving me better access to her neck.

  “No. I’ve waited long enough,” I growl, licking up the curve of her throat and nip at her chin with my teeth. Her mind is at war with her body and I need to help her body win out. I push up her shirt, smiling when I see she’s wearing purple lace—my favorite. My mouth covers the pert bud peeking through, sucking and teasing it through the gossamer material.

  Nyla lets out a pleasure-filled sigh, scraping her nails over my scalp. I pull down the cups of her bra allowing those beautiful breasts to spill out and draw a circle around her puckered nipple with my tongue. Her hands slide down to my cock, gripping it through my pants and she runs her thumb over the tip. Christ it feels good.

  Enough with the fucking foreplay. I need to be inside her. It’s been too long. I fumble with the button on her shorts with Benji pawing at my leg, adding a whine between barks. He takes off down the steps, looking back at me and lets out a loud “woof.”

  Nyla groans. “He probably has to go outside. We didn’t take him out before we left.”

  “I’ll take him out after,” I promise, afraid if I stop, she’ll have too much time to reconsider. I grip the fabric at the waistband of her shorts, yanking the stubborn button free from the eyelet. Benji reappears whining, pushing his head against my leg. We really should have named him Cockblocker.

  “If we don’t take him out, he’ll wake up …”

  “Mommy,” Conner calls from his crib.

  Nyla closes her eyes on a drawn-out sigh. “Coming baby.” She opens them again giving me a sympathetic smile while refastening the button on her shorts. “Welcome to parenthood.”

  I smile and press my lips to her forehead. “Go on. I’ll take Benji out. I’d like us to talk when I get back.”

  “Okay,” she replies, but I hate how uncertain she sounds.

  I take her face between my hands and plant a lavish kiss on her. “Stop it. Please.”

  “Stop what?”

  “Overthinking. I know you, angel. The second I walk out that door, you’re going to start beating yourself up and questioning this. I’m telling you–don’t. This is right. You and I are right.”

  She smiles, but I can see the doubt swirling in those beautiful eyes. Benji barks again, gazing down the stairs, growling. Dammit. I don’t want to leave her like this, but the poor dog needs to piss. “I’ll be right back. Come on Cockblocker. Where’s your leash?”

  He jets off down the stairs, wagging his tail. I take the first two steps and glance over my shoulder to find Nyla fiddling with her wedding ring, guilt settling in. “Angel, please. I’m telling you, Michael’s not the man you think he is.”

  “And who is it you think I am?” Mike asks, joining me on the steps, carrying a bouquet of flowers. “You want to tell me what the hell you’re doing here and why you both look like a paint factory exploded all over you?”

  “Oh, ummm, Memphis heard Conner was sick and came over to check on him and to see if we needed anything,” Nyla replies nervously.

  “How nice of him. And why exactly are you covered in paint?”

  Conner cries out again, growing impatient. Nyla takes advantage of the interruption, disappearing into the room without answering. When she returns holding him, his eyes shine when he sees Mike.

  “Daddy!” he cries, reaching for the snake he knows as his father. It’s like a knife in my heart. Nyla shifts uncomfortably, catching my reaction.

  “I told you I didn’t want him calling you that,” Nyla mutters.

  “There’s my boy,” Mike exclaims, ignoring her and collecting my son, shooting me that goddamn smirk. He lifts Conner’s hand to kiss it and spots a miniscule dot of green paint on the outer edge. “What the fuck does he have on his hands? This is a custom suit!”

  He thrusts Conner back into Nyla’s arms with such force she staggers backward struggling to catch him. I’m at her side in a flash to steady her making sure she doesn’t drop him. Conner’s eyes glaze with confusion, uncertain what he did to warrant such a reaction. We work to comfort him while Mike brushes non-existent paint off his lapels.

  “I’m sorry. We took him to the Children’s museum. I thought I got it all off,” Nyla rambles, padding off to the bathroom to wash the remaining paint from Conner’s hands.

  “That’s fucking great, Nyla! While I’m off working, you’re at home playing house with Memphis,” he snaps, winking at me.

  “It wasn’t like that,” she swears as she reappears, drying Conner’s hands with a towel. Red blotches form on her chest the way they always do when she’s upset or scared. Right now, she’s both.

  “And to think I came home early because I felt bad about this morning!” he fumes, whipping the flowers at the ground.

  “I’m sorry,” Nyla whispers, lowering her head.

  I hate how she shrank when Mike yelled at her. If I’d have ever freaked out on her like that, she’d have told me to get the hell over myself. I can only assume these constant blow-ups and whiplash of emotion are the norm for her and Conner since I returned. It makes my heart ache knowing they’re being put through all this shit.

  “Can I talk to you for a minute outside?” I hiss, directing the question to Mike.

  “I think that’s a fantastic idea,” he replies sarcastically, descending the stairs, leaving me to follow. Nyla looks like she’s about to shit herself. She shakes her head mouthing ‘Memphis, no.’

  “It’ll be fine. We’re just going to have a little chat,” I promise, yet for some reason that appears to make her more nervous. I stroke Conner’s head and make my way down the steps.

  Outside, Mike leans against the porch railing, waiting for me. “What the hell, man?”

  “What?” I ask confused.

  “You didn’t close. I was watching the living room and bedroom cameras on my phone waiting for you to make your move. I saw you go upstairs and thought that’s what you were doing. I’ve been standing on the bottom step for the last twenty minutes waiting to walk in on you. Why do you think the damn dog was barking? I thought for sure he was going to tip you off.”

  “We were just talking,” I lie, cringing at the thought of him having cameras in the house.

  “Just talking? It sounded like you were doing a helluva lot more than that. I would’ve come up and caught you guys making out if I had known you were too much of a pussy to get the job done. Looks like you’re losing your touch.”

  “Today was the first opportunity I had to spend any time with her. It’s only been a few weeks.”

  “It’s only been a few weeks for you. It’s been almost two years for me! I told you. Memphis. I’m bored. I want my fucking money.”

  “And I told you, I’m working on it.”

  “Work faster. If you don’t, I’ll be forced to take care of them myself.” He leans against the rail, eyeballing me. “You know that boy of yours loves to swim. Nyla and I take him to her father’s house most weekends. Be a shame if something happened to one of his floaties and he accidentally fell in. How do you think Nyla would react to finding him face down in the pool? After what happened with her cousin, it’d probably send her over the edge. You know if I get her institutionalized, I’d have access to all her ac
counts. Oooo … or maybe she’d even kill herself. Then I’d be a widower and get everything. You know now that I’m saying it out loud, maybe I should just do that.”

  I grab him by the throat bending him backwards over the railing. “You touch them, and I will end you! You hear me, you son-of-a-bitch? You’ll beg me for death.”

  The door flings open and Nyla rushes down the steps toward us. “Memphis! What the hell is wrong with you? Let him up!”

  She pulls on my arms until I release him. I continue to burn holes in Mike with my eyes while Nyla fusses over him, checking to make sure he’s not injured. Mike brushes her hands away with anger. “Do you see what I mean? This is why I don’t want him around Conner!”

  “Just try keeping me away from him, asshole.”

  “Memphis, please. I think you should go,” Nyla pleads, pressing her hand on my chest to keep me from charging. “You guys can’t do this. We need to behave like adults and figure this out for Conner.”

  “She’s right,” Mike agrees, pretending to be the good guy he’s not. “Memphis, I don’t want to fight with you.” I roll my eyes, scoffing. He’s so full of shit. “Sweetheart, why don’t you go back inside and let us iron this out. I’m sure we can come to some kind of agreement.”

  Nyla’s the one to scoff now. “You’re high if you think I’m leaving the two of you out here alone after that.”

  Mike takes her hand between his, and I can’t help another eye roll. “Baby, please do as I ask. I promise we’ll behave. Won’t we, Memphis?”

  “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say.” Yes, angel. Go inside so I can finish beating this asshole until he’s nothing more than a stain on the street. Nyla hesitates, watching me. She knows me too well. I relax my shoulders and promise to be a good little boy. “We’ll behave.”

  “Fine, I’ll go inside. But only because Conner is in there alone. I’m coming back out here in two minutes to check on you,” she warns.

  Mike watches, waiting until the door clicks shut. “Damn, I love making you lose your shit.” He smirks, crossing his arms and widening his stance. “Now how easy I make this is up to you. I can go inside and behave like a jealous asshole and make their lives miserable or I can march in there, apologize, and spend the next two weeks trying to knock Nyla up. I mean it’s only fair. I raised your bastard; you should have to raise mine.”

  I move towards him again, but he steps back motioning his eyes up to the window where Nyla is staring down at us. “Uh-uh-uh,” he tsks. “I guess I have my answer.” He holds up two fingers. “You’ve got two weeks, Memphis. Two weeks and then Conner has an accident. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make up with my wife.”

  As he disappears into the house, I catch Nyla’s gaze one last time. She gives me a doleful smile that makes me long to wrap my arms around her and tell her everything is going to be alright. This entire situation is beyond fucked up.

  Two weeks to come up with five million dollars or take that motherfucker down for good. And I have no clue how to do either without putting my family in more danger and landing myself in prison, or worse.

  FORTY-FIVE

  All night long my mind tortures me with what could be happening across town. I must have texted Nyla half a dozen times, but never received a reply. Either Mike is seeing the messages and deleting them, or Nyla is racked with guilt over our indiscretion. There’s a third option too repulsive to consider. Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop my overactive imagination from playing it on a loop.

  After I left, I went to the store and had two copies made of the pictures we took yesterday and put them into frames—one for Nyla’s desk and one for mine. I also framed the artwork of our handprints forming the heart for her. Alright, so maybe I made a copy of that for myself too. Looking at it makes me incredibly happy and unexpectedly sad. It captures a perfect day with my family. A day that’s now nothing more than a memory.

  The next morning, I’m parked at my usual spot in the lobby, staring at the photo when Emily approaches me carrying two lattes. “If you’re waiting for Nyla, she’s already upstairs. She’s been here for at least an hour. I just stepped out to get us some coffee.”

  “Because she didn’t want to run into me,” I surmise.

  She shrugs and steps onto the elevator, sticking her elbow out to keep the doors from closing. “You coming?”

  “Uh, yeah.” I step inside surprised by the invitation. She’s made a concentrated effort to avoid me since I’ve been back.

  “Is that from yesterday?” she asks, noticing the picture in my hand.

  I grin down at it, angling it for her to see. “Yeah. We had a great day. I actually thought … never mind. It doesn’t matter what I thought. Obviously, I was wrong.” My smile fades, and she gives me a sympathetic one in return.

  The doors slide shut and silence falls between us. Even though my head is down, I can feel her eyes burrowing into me. The pointed toes of her cream heels come into my line of sight. I look up to find her standing in front of me with her brows pinched like I’m a puzzle she’s trying to figure out.

  “Damn you’re good,” she finally says, her eyes narrowing. “I’m never wrong about anyone, but I was wrong about you. And boy does it piss me off. Well, you may have snuck under my radar once Memphis Drake, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you do it again. I don’t know what kind of game you’re playing, but …”

  “Goddammit, I’m not playing any game!” I snap, sick and tired of being accused of the same thing over and over. “I love her. You know I love her.”

  “I know you broke her heart, and I know you don’t do that to someone you love.”

  “You do if it’s the only choice you have. You think I wanted to leave her? You think I wouldn’t have done things differently if there was any other way? It kills me knowing how much I hurt her!”

  “Then why did you?” she fires back, her temper as fiery as her choice of hair color.

  “Because there were people after me! Dangerous people. Leaving was the only way I could protect her. I’ve been trying to tell everyone that, but you’re all too busy hating me to listen!”

  “And now? Are they still after you?” she challenges. It’s a fair question and one that I don’t have the answer to. I have to assume I’m still a loose end, especially after I sent the USB drive to the police, something I wouldn’t have done if Mike hadn’t made me believe Vito was coming for me. I put a target on my own back. If it was entered into evidence, I’m the only one who can authenticate it. It’s part of why I haven’t contacted Giovanni since my return. I don’t know if he’s connected me to James Hamilton.

  “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “Then why are you here? If you left to protect her and these people are still after you, why come back?”

  “Because I believe that asshole she’s married to is more dangerous than the people trying to kill me.”

  Her eyes widen, the gravity of the statement sinking in. She sighs. “You’re a con man, Memphis. How are am I supposed to believe a damn word you say?”

  “You’re right. I was a con man. I stopped being one the second I met Nyla. I love her, Emily. She changed me. She and Conner are my life. I just want to keep them safe.”

  I don’t know why I’m bothering to tell her any of this. She’s not going to believe me. No one believes me. That’s the thing about being a professional liar. You become so good at the lies, no one believes you when you’re telling the truth.

  The elevator doors part and she crosses the threshold into the lobby of Moreau Enterprises. She pauses, gazing back at me over her shoulder. “You coming?”

  My head snaps up in disbelief. “Really? You believe me?”

  “I don’t know. The truth is, I don’t know what to believe. But I think you care about her and that little boy. And I told you before, I never trusted that Michael.”

  I scurry out of the elevator, grateful someone in Nyla’s inner circle is willing to listen. “What about Edward? He said he’d call security if
I set foot on this floor again.”

  “You let me worry about Edward.” She dips her head toward the cups. “I need to get this back to my desk before it gets cold. You think you could bring this one to Nyla?”

  “Yeah, sure,” I reply, taking the cup from her. “Thanks, Em.”

  She leaves me at the elevator, pivoting when she’s halfway down the corridor. “And Memphis, I’ve been plotting your death since the day you left. If you hurt her again, I promise those other people will be the least of your worries.”

  I acknowledge her threat and hurry towards Nyla’s office. When I arrive, her chair is facing the window overlooking the expanse of the city. The phone cord is stretched from the base up to the receiver at her ear. She twirls the excess length with her fingers continuing her conversation freely, oblivious to my presence. “I don’t know what to believe. I’m so confused. I don’t know if I should hear him out or tell him I never want to see him again.”

  “I vote for hearing him out,” I say, shutting the door behind me. The twirling stops and her chair swivels around at warp speed. I smile holding up the coffee and pictures.

  “Shit! Alex, I gotta go. I’ll call you later.” She struggles to get the phone on the receiver unaware she’s spun the cord around herself. “What are you doing here? And what the hell is wrong with this damn phone?” she asks as the receiver pops off the cradle for the third time, sliding back towards her.

  I set the coffee and pictures on the desk and slowly unwind the cord, taking my time to free her. Her eyes remain on my face, darting away when I catch her staring. “I missed you in the lobby today.”

  “Oh, ummm, I had to come in early to get some projections done,” she fibs, looking everywhere but my face. She’s a shit liar. It’s one of the things I love most about her.

  “Projections huh? For a second, I thought maybe you were avoiding me.”