The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

  “I know. I love him too.” Nyla’s minty breath wafts over my skin, whispering the words I’ve been waiting to hear. A sense of peace envelopes me as I succumb to sleep.

  She finally believes me.

  FORTY-NINE

  The room is quiet when I wake again. The full moon provides the only light seeping in through the vertical blinds. Just outside the door, a security guard is in deep conversation with the night nurse. Across the room, Cora is slumped to the side in one of the recliners, snoring softly. Next to her, Mason is passed out on a cushioned bench with Conner asleep on his chest sucking his thumb. Their resemblance is uncanny. It makes sense. Everyone always said Mason was a miniature version of me.

  “They’ve really bonded. Mason’s been fantastic with him. Conner adores his new uncle,” Nyla says, shifting into a sitting position on the bed. “Are you okay? Do you need something?”

  “What I need is for you to lie back down and put your arm around me the way it was a second ago.” She smiles, nuzzling gingerly into my chest and slides her leg up mine. I press my lips to her forehead, the welcomed scent of honey infused with orchids filling my nose. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

  “You didn’t. I was awake. I was just lying here listening to your heart beat.”

  “Why? You afraid it’s gonna stop?” I tease.

  “Yes.”

  “Come on. It takes more than a couple bullets to stop this guy.” I tighten my hold on her as much as I can with my limited mobility. “Are you up for talking? There’s so much I want to tell you, but I know it’s been a rough few days. I understand if you’re too tired.”

  She gazes up at me, the light reflecting off the gold in her eyes making them gleam. “No, we can talk. But I think Mason and Cora have filled me in on most of it. We’ve had a lot of time to talk over the past week.”

  “I’ve been unconscious for a week?”

  “Yep. You gave us a couple good scares. I figured you were punishing me.”

  “Punishing you?”

  “Yeah. For the last month, you begged to talk to me, and I wouldn’t let you. Then when I wanted you to talk to me, I couldn’t get you to wake up. Typical man. Everything has to be on your schedule,” she kids, and I’m glad to hear it. “I was giving you one more day, and then I was having you transported to New York-Presbyterian. Trevor was on standby and Max already has a plane on the way.”

  “I guess it’s a good thing I woke up when I did. Trevor probably would have gone in and nicked an artery just to take out the competition.”

  She chuckles. “He might have.”

  My brows draw inward. “I’m surprised Max agreed to send a plane.”

  “Don’t be. He and Colin feel like shit for not believing you. My dad does, too. Especially after Max got the background check on Michael two days ago. I can’t believe I married someone like that. You were right. I do have shit taste in men.”

  “Hey now!” I mock offense.

  “Seriously, seeing it in black and white … knowing what he’s capable of … If he’d have hurt Conner, I would’ve never forgiven myself.”

  “He threatened to. That’s why I went after him in the elevator. And why I asked anyone I could think of for the five million dollars. I would’ve done anything to get him away from you guys, even if it meant losing you.”

  She snuggles me tighter. “I’m sorry I accused you of trying to con us again and even sorrier I wouldn’t listen to you.”

  “Angel, you had every reason not to trust me, and no reason to doubt him. I’m just happy you believe me now. Even if I had to get shot to make it happen.”

  “It was kind of hard to doubt you after that. How did you wind up mixed up with Tony? Mason said he works for some mobster named Vito, but he wasn’t clear on why you stayed involved with him.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t know the full story. Vito lent me the money I needed for the kidney transplant. I never told Mason because I didn’t want him to feel guilty for it.” I look over to my little brother, knowing if I had to do it all over again, I’d still have put myself in the same situation if it meant saving his life.

  “He thinks it had something to do with Sheila.”

  “It did. Originally. I guess I should start from the beginning.”

  Nyla deserves to know the truth about the kind of man I am. As much as I wanted to marry her before, I realize now our marriage would have been built on lies. If we’re going to stand a chance, she has to know the real me and decide if she can forgive me for my past. I draw in a painful breath. I haven’t asked where the bullets hit me yet, but it’s hurts like hell when my chest expands too much. With an exhale, I begin the long, convoluted story. “It all started when I was eight years old …”

  I purge myself about Sheila, Callie, Vito, Harrison, and the others, confessing all my sins to her. I tell her everything—probably more than I should. But I can’t seem to hold anything back, nor do I want to. It’s cleansing to have all these terrible secrets out in the open. Like a weight has been lifted, and now I can finally heal. Nyla listens intently, asking the occasional thoughtful question, though for the most part, she remains silent.

  “… and then I woke up in here,” I finish, spent from what feels like hours of talking. Even with the sounds from the machine and Cora’s light snoring, the room is unbearably quiet. I wait on bated breath for Nyla to say something. She hasn’t bolted out of the room screaming. I’m taking that as a good sign.

  “So, everything you’ve done since getting involved with Vito—all the conning and embezzling and illegal things—was to protect your family?”

  “Yes. To protect or provide for them.”

  “And when you left, you really thought it was the only way to protect me?”

  “Yes. Keeping you and Edward safe was all that mattered to me. Angel, I swear if I could’ve handled things another way, I would have. But I knew if I told you the truth, somehow you would have talked me into staying, and that would have put you in danger. I needed to make Vito believe I didn’t care about you. That you were just another mark. Or at least that’s what I thought I was doing. I didn’t know Mike set the whole thing up to make it look like Vito found me.”

  “I could kill him and Sheila for what they did.”

  “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it.”

  She sits up, working her lip between her teeth. “There’s one thing I don’t get. Why did Michael choose the day of your father’s funeral to say you called and told him we were having an affair? That seems calculated.”

  “You’re right, it does.” Hmmm. It only takes a minute before the answer slaps me in the face. “He’s the one who told Vito where to find me.”

  Nyla’s eyes widen with disbelief. “But you’re his brother. You really think he hates you that much?”

  “I know he does. Mike wanted me to suffer. When he gave me the deadline to get the money, he thought I’d either sleep with you to get the evidence he needed for a divorce or embezzle the money from Max. Once he had his millions, he would’ve made sure you found out what I’d done, obliterating any chance of us getting back together. It would’ve been his final ‘fuck you’ to me. He never expected me to go directly to your dad and Max for the money.”

  “And because he knew how angry I was with you for doing that, he probably figured you blew any chance you had of getting me into bed.”

  “Yep. I was no longer useful.” I shake my head replaying everything in my mind. “He had to wonder what I’d said to them, especially after I called him out in front of everyone for threatening Conner. I’m the one person who knew his real identity and could blow the lid off the whole con. Edward’s comment about me trying to scam them let him know his secret was still safe. But it made him realize how far I’d go to protect the two of you.”

  “So, he lied and me told you said we were having an affair to what? Make me doubt everything else you said?”

  “Exactly. He needed me to seem desperate and unstable. Like
I’d say anything to come between the two of you. If I lied about the affair, I was probably lying about him threatening Conner too. He wanted you to think I was still trying to con you. And when I went to Max and your Dad for the money, I played right into that.”

  “Okay, but why tell Vito?”

  “He needed me gone. If I decided to come clean about everything, we could’ve had your marriage declared a fraud and he’d have gotten nothing. He’s been working your con for almost two years and wasn’t about to let that happen. Instead of an asset, I became a liability. When I texted telling him I had to leave but that I’d be back after the funeral on Saturday, I’d unwittingly told him exactly where I’d be and when. One anonymous tip to Vito, and I’d be out of his way for good.”

  “Then why bother confronting me about the affair before that? He had to know I’d be furious and go straight to you to find out why you lied?”

  “I think he was counting on it.”

  “Why? And why choose the day of the funeral to tell me?”

  “Because besting me was all he ever cared about. He thought getting the money and having me killed would be enough. But in the end, he couldn’t stand the thought of me dying without knowing he’d won; that he figured out a way to get his millions without my help. It would have eaten him alive for the rest of his life. And he knew the second he walked out the door, you would call me, and I’d figure out what he’d done.”

  “But why not call you himself? I’d think he’d want to gloat about it.”

  “I’m sure he did, but he knew Vito’s guy was going to take me out at any time. It would’ve looked pretty suspicious if he called the man he’d accused of sleeping with his wife right before he was murdered. As much as I’m certain he wanted to rub it in my face, he couldn’t risk making himself a suspect. My guess is, he picked a fight with you on Saturday and headed to the nearest bar he could find, got drunk, and made a scene. That would guarantee people would remember him, providing him with an airtight alibi.”

  A shiver courses through her. “He’s really that evil, isn’t he?”

  “Yeah, he is,” I acknowledge as much to myself as to her. It’s hard to believe someone you grew up with can hate you enough to want you dead. With Vito, it was business. With Mike, it’s personal. And that makes him twice as dangerous.

  Nyla settles into me, gliding her finger gently over my arm. “Memphis?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “What happens now?”

  I glance out the door, clocking the guard that hasn’t moved. At first, I thought he was hospital security, but now that my eyes have adjusted, his uniform and stance scream police detail. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible. If Tony was smart, he’d have stuck around to make sure I was dead. If he finds out I’m not, he’ll come to finish the job. Am I registered under my name?” I ask, knowing Mason was probably in shock and may not have had the presence of mind to give them an alias.

  “No. Mason used the name on your driver’s license. Christopher Bennett. But Tony’s not going to be an issue. The groundskeeper at the cemetery called the police when he heard gunshots. They caught Tony fleeing the scene and he was killed during a shootout. It’s been all over the news.”

  I frown. “That buys us a little time, but not much.”

  My brain fires off thoughts faster than I can keep up. The police know I wasn’t the victim of a random shooting. It was a mob hit. They’re going to ask questions. Questions I don’t want to answer. And there’s no doubt Vito will blame me for Tony’s death and seek revenge. Tony wasn’t only Vito’s brother; he was his number two in command. With Vito still behind bars, the organization must be scrambling to find a new proxy leader to avoid appearing weak to the other families, inviting turf wars. As soon as they have someone in power, they’ll come for my head next.

  There’s no time to waste. I struggle to sit up, almost passing out from the acute pain in my chest. My muscles feel like they’re being ripped from the bone.

  Nyla clambers off the bed, steadying me before I fall over. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  I draw in short gasps of air, fighting to catch my breath. My head swims. My stomach churns. It takes everything I have not to vomit. “Have … to … go,” I wheeze.

  “Oh no. You’re not going anywhere. Memphis, you were shot. Twice. You can’t just stroll out of here.”

  “Have to … not safe.” I attempt to sit up again but lack the strength. A combination of fear and pure adrenaline must’ve propelled me yesterday.

  Nyla runs her fingers along my hairline, brushing the cold sweat from my forehead. “I’ll take care of it, okay? I need you to rest.”

  I lie back because it’s the only thing I’m capable of, all my energy having been expended in my futile attempt to move. How the hell am I going to protect my family when breathing takes a concentrated effort? Nyla takes my hand and gives it a squeeze. I maintain my grip as she pulls away. “I love you. I need to know you believe that.”

  She presses a kiss to my lips. “I do. I love you, too. We’re going to be okay,” she assures me, stepping away to retrieve her phone from her purse.

  I drop my head against the bed wishing her words were true. But they’re not. I know what I have to do and she’s not going to like it.

  FIFTY

  Smuggling me out of the hospital was easier than anticipated, given my diminished state. Mason procured a wheelchair and then he and Cora helped me into it while Nyla distracted the guard. We flew back to New York where Nyla insisted we stay with her while she and Cora nursed me back to health. I didn’t argue. I want to spend as much time with her and Conner as possible over these next few weeks. It may be the last time we ever have together.

  It’s been almost four weeks since I was shot. Yesterday, Cora finally felt confident enough to head back home, leaving me in Nyla’s capable hands. I’m still sore, but I’m doing much better. Although you wouldn’t know it by the way Nyla is hawking me. I can’t reach for the remote without her jumping to get it for me. I keep reassuring her I’m alright, for what little good it does.

  To my delight, we’ve slept in the same bed every night since I was in the hospital. Me by choice. Her, possibly by choice, but more likely because she still thinks I might keel over at any moment. I’ve awoken several times to find her eyes focused on the rise and fall of my chest. Every night, we talk until one of us drifts off to sleep. We’ve hashed out feelings, laughed, cried, and sometimes we simply lie there, lost in each other’s eyes. I’m happy to see my future still lives in hers. I’m trying like hell to come up with a way to make that future last longer than a few measly weeks.

  I’m in the bathroom taking a leak when she knocks on the door. “Memphis, you alright?”

  I laugh to myself. “Fine angel. Just taking a piss. On second thought, I’m not supposed to be lifting anything heavy. Maybe you should come in and help.”

  I flush the toilet and wash my hands, chuckling at my own joke. When I open the door, she’s standing there with a scowl. She hands me my medicine and a glass of water and then punches me hard in the arm.

  “Ow! What kind of bedside manner is that? You’re not supposed to punch the patient.”

  “Then maybe the patient should stop being such an ass,” she counters, biting back a grin and taking the water from me after I swallow my pills. I traipse behind her into the living room, like a lovesick puppy dog.

  “The patient apologizes and has several ideas on how he would like to make it up to you,” I reply, wrapping my arm around her waist and catching her ear between my teeth. She sighs contently, leaning into me. I kiss my way up her neck while sliding my hand down her stomach. Her hand covers mine, stopping me just shy of heaven.

  She glances at me over her shoulder, sighing with regret. “We can’t. You’re not ready yet.” Her voice is breathy, and her pupils eclipse her irises.

  I push my erection into her back and trace my nose along her ear. “I beg to differ. And I bet if I get my finge
rs between your legs, you’re as wet as I am hard.”

  She sets the water on the table, making sure to press her perfect ass into my aching cock. When she faces me again, she trails her hand over the curve of her breast, inching down past the waistband of her pants. Her teeth sink into her lip on a soft moan and I know she’s dipped a finger inside her. I’m crazed with want and jealousy watching her touch herself. I want to be the one doing it. She pulls her hand out and runs a finger over my lips, coating them with her sweetness.

  “Look at that. You were right.” She winks, grabbing the water and padding off to the kitchen, leaving me panting.

  “Oh, you are one evil nurse,” I shout to her back. “Come on Nurse Ratched. What do you say we go upstairs and play doctor for a while?”

  She returns, slipping her arms around my neck and sifting my hair with her fingers the way I love. “I say Conner and Mason are two floors away.”

  “That’s right. Two. Whole. Floors.” I suck on her bottom lip and soon our tongues are tangling. The sound of the doorbell has Nyla stiffening in my arms. Benji lets out a series of barks, scurrying to his feet and racing to the door. Nyla presses a shaky hand to her heart. To her, every sound is Vito’s men coming to finish the job they started.

  “It’s okay, angel. It’s probably just the naughty nurse costume I ordered for you online,” I tease, hugging her a little tighter.

  That earns me a halfhearted smile. She breaks my hold and waves me out of sight as she answers the door. “Can I help you?”

  “Nyla Moreau-Smith?” a voice I don’t recognize asks. I’m at her side in seconds.

  “Yes?”

  He slaps an envelope against her chest. “You’ve been served.”

  I push the door open, shooing him down the steps. “Man, get the hell out of here.”

  “Hey, come on,” Nyla mutters yanking me inside, careful not to say my name. She closes the door, locking it behind us. “You shouldn’t have done that. He saw you. If he tells Michael …”