The Redemption of Memphis Drake: A Second Chance Romance

by Shay Stone

  “Holy shit.”

  Nyla’s eyes dart to mine, knowing, as I do, that this changes everything. As soon as Giovanni’s gone, she throws her arms around my neck. “This is good, right? This means you don’t have to tell Giovanni. We can give Mike his money and be done with him.”

  “No. We’re not giving Mike shit. He’s not getting anything from us.”

  “But we have to,” she says, pulling away. “He’s already threatened Conner and tried to have you killed. If we don’t pay him off, who’s to say he won’t do it again?”

  “I know he’ll do it again. Even if we give him everything he wants, at some point he’ll come back around. It’s not just about the money for him. It’s about making me suffer. As long as he’s out there, we’ll never be safe.”

  “But what can we do? It’s your word against his. Other than the picture, there’s no real evidence against him.”

  “You let me worry about that. By the time I’m finished, Mike will be out of our lives for good.”

  “How are you going to do that?”

  “By doing what I do best. Beating him at his own game.”

  FIFTY-FOUR

  Nyla sits on the edge of the hotel bed chewing her nails, her face etched in worry. “I don’t like this. Let’s just give him the money.”

  “We can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “You know why.”

  She blows out an exasperated breath and turns to Giovanni. “Can’t you talk some sense into him?”

  “Don’t look at me. He’s made up his mind. You know how he is. He’ll do anything to keep you and Conner safe.”

  “Then I’m coming, too. There are a few things I’d like to say to my soon-to-be-ex-husband,” she declares, pulling on her jacket. “Glad I brought this. It’s freezing in here.”

  As much as she deserves the right to unleash on him, it’s not smart. “Angel, you can’t. If you’re there, Mike will find a way to use you against me. I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. I’d be too worried about you. It’s safer for both of us if I go alone. Okay?”

  She worries her lip between her teeth wanting to protest, but she knows I’m right. “Okay. Just promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I promise. Nothing’s going to happen to me,” I vow, squatting in front of her and taking her hands in mine.

  “You don’t know that. You said it yourself. Mike’s dangerous. I almost lost you once. I can’t go through that again.”

  I slide my palm against her cheek. “You won’t have to. This is the best way to get Mike out of our lives. Besides, Giovanni will be right down the hall if there are any problems … which there won’t be.” I cut her off when her mouth opens to argue. “Right, Giovanni?”

  “Right. Although, I still wish you’d have let me know what we were doing so I could have come prepared and maybe arranged for a little back up,” he gripes.

  “Mike knows how to spot cops. One bellhop out of place could blow everything.” That’s not a total lie. But the truth is, I don’t want anyone else there because I don’t know what Mike’s going to say. If he implicates me in anything, it will be a lot easier to throw myself at the mercy of Giovanni than an entire police force.

  “Memphis, I’m scared,” Nyla admits, fighting back tears.

  Giovanni excuses himself to use the bathroom, but I know he’s doing it to give Nyla and me a few minutes alone. I stand, helping Nyla to her feet and slip my arms around her waist. “Everything’s going to be okay. This will all be over soon.”

  “Shouldn’t you take a gun or something?”

  “I don’t like guns. They tend to escalate things. People stop listening once guns are drawn. Besides, good con men don’t need guns.” I refrain from telling her the smash job Vito’s men did on my hand all those years ago left me incapable of squeezing a trigger, and Mike’s the only other person in the world that knows that.

  “And we all know you’re a good con man.”

  “The best.” I wink. “Until you came along.”

  “You ready to do this?” Giovanni asks, emerging from the bathroom.

  “You bet your ass I am.”

  He motions for me to come closer. “I’d feel a lot better if you could get her to wait at home … for her own safety,” he confesses a little louder than I know he intended. I shut my eyes, squeezing them tight.

  Here it comes.

  “If this is so safe and there’s not going to be any problems, why do you want me to leave?” Nyla challenges. Giovanni cringes, realizing his mistake.

  “Thanks for that,” I quip to him.

  “Sorry,” he mouths, shrinking under the weight of my dirty look. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.” I wish he’d try to sell this a little more for Nyla’s sake.

  I rest my hands on her arms and blow out a breath. “I couldn’t fall in love with some naive, self-absorbed bimbo. No, I had to go and fall in love with an intelligent, challenging, bombshell who catches everything,” I tease, earning me an eye roll and a small smile. I’ll take it. “You trust me, right?”

  She sighs. “You know I do. It’s him I don’t trust. I’m scared.”

  I tug her to my chest, taking comfort in knowing this is the last time I’ll have to put her through anything like this. She presses her lips to mine, seducing me into a deep, sensual kiss full of meaning. I can taste the fear on her lips. And there’s nothing I can say that will ease her mind.

  Giovanni groans. “Alright, you two. Break it up. You can do that after. Let’s get this over with.”

  “You better come back to me,” Nyla states, but it’s really a plea.

  “I will,” I promise, kissing her once more before I head out on my mission. “Keep an eye on her, Giovanni.”

  “You got it. But I’m telling you right now, if you don’t come back, I’m marrying her just to get my mom off my back.” As the door closes, I hear him call Nyla over, tasking her with something.

  I’m thankful he’s saddling her with a project to distract her. If the situations were reversed, there’s no way in hell I could sit there idle while she went off to deal with some psychopath. I trek down the hall and raise my hand to knock on the door, but stop, thrown off by the sudden influx of nerves that overtakes me. My heart is hammering, my hands are cold and clammy, and my forehead is covered in perspiration. I can’t go in there like this. Mike will see right through me. What the hell’s the matter with me? I’m usually the epitome of calm.

  I rest my back against the wall and lay my head against it, trying to figure out what my problem is. Then it hits me. I have something to lose. I always play the game like I don’t. This time I can’t. If this con goes sideways, there’s no walking away.

  Out of nowhere, our day at the museum springs to my mind. How perfect it was and how I want a million more just like it. Mike poses a threat to that. He’s already ripped me from my family once. I’ll be damned if I’ll let him do it again. Any fear I had is replaced with anger.

  With newfound determination, I wipe the sweat from my brow and rap my knuckles against the door. Mike answers, clad in only a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. His eyes damn nearly pop out of his head when he sees me. I guess he wasn’t expecting a dead man to be at the door. “Memphis! Hi.”

  “Hi. Mind if I come in?”

  “Uh, yeah. Sure,” he replies, backing away enough for me to enter. My presence has him thrown. Good. I don’t want him thinking clearly. When he turns away, I discreetly drop a pen on the floor, wedging it between the door and the jam to prevent it from clicking shut.

  Mike grabs a bottle of Southern Comfort from the bedside table and fills a glass, knocking the whole thing back in one shot. “What are you doing here? I thought you were …”

  “Dead?” I offer, linking my hands behind my back as I casually stroll around the room taking in his new digs. “No. Sorry to disappoint you. I did come pretty damn close though, thanks to you.”

  “Why thanks to me?” he asks cautiously, refilling the glass and gulping d
own another hefty swallow.

  “You’re the only one who could have told Vito’s guy where I’d be.”

  He swings around to face me. “Memphis, I swear it wasn’t me. I didn’t know what happened to you. I thought maybe you decided to cut your losses and took off after your dad’s funeral. I didn’t know someone tried to kill you. Jesus man. Are you okay?”

  I scoff. “Really, Mike? That’s how you want to play this? Fine. That’s not why I’m here anyway.”

  “Why are you here then?” he asks, setting down the glass and folding his arms across his chest.

  “I came to bring you something.” I reach into the breast pocket of my jacket, pull out a set of folded documents, and place them on the corner of the bed. “These are for you. Nyla asked me to bring them over.”

  “Nyla? You two are talking? How the hell did you manage to worm your way … you know what? I don’t even care. Are these what I think they are?” he asks reaching for the papers, his greedy eyes gleaming.

  I shrug. “See for yourself.”

  A smug smile plays at his lips before he even opens them. “You know, I’m glad Tony didn’t kill you because now I get to ask you in person. How does it feel?”

  “How does what feel?”

  “How does it feel knowing I beat you?”

  “You think you beat me?”

  “You saying I didn’t? You never made this much money in your life. And you know why?”

  “No, but I’m certain you’re going to tell me.”

  He points the papers at me. “Because unlike you, I have the balls to do what needs to be done. I kept my eye on the prize and figured out a way to spin anything you threw at me.”

  “That you did,” I give him.

  The bed creaks, dipping down as he sits on the mattress. “I’ll admit, I never thought you’d go directly to Edward and Max for the money. I thought for sure you came clean and blew the whole con. But I stayed cool and managed to turn it on you, making you look like the crazy one. And it worked out better than I planned.”

  I check my watch with a huff. “Are you done congratulating yourself? Will you sign the damn papers so I can take them back to Nyla and tell her we never have to see you again?”

  “The papers should already be signed,” he says, getting up from the bed to accept the pen I offer. “You know, I tried to give you a second chance. I really did. You could have helped me embezzle from Moreau. I had it all set up for Harrison to take the fall. We could’ve made millions. But noooooo. You wouldn’t betray Nyla.”

  “No, I wouldn’t,” I concur.

  “But you had no problem betraying me. Your own brother.”

  “Well, you posed as James Hamilton, embezzled from the church and framed me for murdering Angie, and then you tried to have me killed. I’d say as far as shitty brothers go, you’re in the lead.”

  “I did what had to be done. And now it’s about to pay off.” He sneers, opening the papers. The arrogant smirk quickly falls from his face when he begins reading them. “What the hell is this? These aren’t the divorce papers my lawyer sent over.”

  “No, they’re not. Those are annulment papers. You see, that’s what you serve someone when they trick you into a fraudulent marriage.”

  He whips the document at me. “What the hell are you trying to pull? You better take those back to Nyla and fix this shit. I want my goddamn money!”

  “I’m sure you do, but you’re not getting it.”

  “Is that so? Well, then you leave me know choice. If you don’t have Nyla sign them by the end of the day, I’ll put in a call to Vito’s crew and tell them exactly where to find her and your little bastard kid.”

  “Go ahead. Although you might want to contact a medium first. They’re all dead.”

  “Bullshit!”

  “It’s not bullshit. Vito and his whole crew were taken out by the Russians. How do you not know this?” I waggle my finger at him. “Oh, that’s right. I never could get you to read a paper or watch the news. It involved too much thinking.”

  He shakes his head vigorously. “No. You’re lying. You’re hustling me, hoping I’m dumb enough to fall for it.”

  “Check your phone if you don’t believe me.”

  He snatches his cell from the table, moving his thumbs frantically across the screen. His mouth gapes and his shoulders sag in defeat. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

  “Told you. It’s over, Mike. You’re done. As usual, you lost. I beat you.” I smirk, purposely provoking him.

  He paces a trench in the floor. “No, no … not this time. I beat you! I. Beat. You!” he shouts, punching each word.

  The muscle in his jaw twitches. He’s angry. But I need him furious. “If you beat me, how come I’m the one walking with the girl and the money? Face it, Mike. Sheila was right. You’ll never be as good as me. You’ll always be second best.”

  That did it. The veins in his neck bulge. Rage consumes him. “You motherfucker! I’m gonna kill you! I’m gonna choke the shit out of you until you’re begging me for breath just like that bitch Angie. Or maybe I’ll beat your fucking skull in so I never have to look at that damn smug face of yours again!”

  “Like you did with Sally Reed?”

  “No, like I did with Sheila,” he spits.

  Now I’m the one confounded. “You killed Sheila?”

  “You’re goddamn right I did! Don’t act like that bitch didn’t deserve it. She always favored you. I was her own goddamn son, but she loved you more.”

  “Jesus, Mike. When? How?” I stammer, shocked by his admission.

  “I ran into her a few years back and told her about the Stapleton job. She always thought you were so much better than me. I wanted her to know she was wrong about us. That I was the smart one. Thought she’d be proud. You know what she did? She laughed. The fucking bitch laughed in my face. Told me I was stupid if I thought I could pull one over on you. Then she told me to get lost. Do you believe that?”

  His nostrils flare in disgust. “I was walking back to the truck–you know that Chevy you used to drive–and I couldn’t get that damn laughing out of my head. That’s when I remembered you always kept that Louisville Slugger behind the seat. I took it and bashed her fucking head in until my arms cramped. And let me tell you, the sound of her skull cracking under that bat was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard. Who’s laughing now, bitch?”

  He’s completely lost it. “You’re out of your mind.”

  “Maybe I am. All the more reason you should get me my money before Nyla and Conner end up like Angie and the rest of ’em.”

  “That’s not going to happen.”

  “You don’t think I’ll do it?”

  “Oh, I know you’ll do it. But you won’t get the chance.” I pull the tiny transmitter from my pocket and speak into it. “Did you get all that Giovanni?”

  Mike steps back, his face contorting in confusion. He snatches the device from my hand, inspecting to see if it’s real. “What the hell is this? Is this a wire? You’re wearing a fucking wire?”

  “Yep. And you’re going down for all of it, you son-of-a bitch.”

  “No, no … you’re going down. You’re James Hamilton. You’re the one who killed Angie. Not me,” he backpedals in desperation, tugging his hair with his hands.

  “No, Mike. That was all you. The police have a picture of the two of you together. They know you’re James Hamilton. That you’re the brains behind Vito’s entire operation. It was all you. I couldn’t have pulled that off. You’re so much smarter than me.”

  “You bastard!” he growls, smashing the transmitter against the nightstand and reaches under the pillow pulling out a .45.

  “What are you going to do? Shoot me? There’re ten cops outside that door about to bust in here and arrest you.”

  “Then I might as well go down shooting because there’s no way in hell I’m going to prison.”

  The door flings open, and my heart lodges in my throat when I see it’s Nyla instead of Giovanni. She bursts throu
gh kicking away the pen I had wedged, allowing the lock to click securely in place. Mike veers the barrel of the gun at her.

  “What the hell are you doing? I told you to stay in the other room.” My tone is castigating and laden with fear.

  “Your comp went out. I got scared.”

  Mike clucks his tongue. “Aww, well isn’t that sweet. She came to protect you.”

  There’s a loud crash from the other side of the door.

  “Goddammit!” Giovanni curses, slamming against the unforgiving metal door that’s supposed to be unlocked. He should have a keycard. I swiped one just in case. The handle jiggles but the door remains shut. Nyla darts toward it and Mike fires off a shot, missing her by less than an inch. Giovanni curses again from the opposite side and I pray he wasn’t hit.

  “Uh-uh-uh,” Mike tsks, motioning her away from the door and positions himself to block it. “Do it and I’ll put a bullet in his head.”

  Relief floods through me when he points the gun back in my direction. If one of us has to die, I want it to be me. Mike follows me with the barrel as I move further away from Nyla.

  “Quit moving,” he demands, shaking the .45 at me. “Quit or I’ll shoot her.”

  He redirects the gun and I freeze holding up my hands. “Okay, I’m not moving. Put the gun back on me,” I say, patting my chest. “I’m the one you want. Not her.”

  There’s pounding on the other side of the door as Giovanni rams against it, attempting to break it down. I’ve got to stall long enough to give him a chance to get through. He can’t shoot his way in because he chances hitting Nyla or me.

  “It’s over, Mike. They’re gonna get inside any second. Put the gun down. Don’t make this worse for yourself than it already is.”

  “If I’m already going down for three murders, what’s two more?” he retorts, swinging the gun between us. Nyla whimpers, trembling with fear.

  “No, it doesn’t have to be that way. I’ll tell them it was me. That I tricked you into saying those things.”