Redeemed Love

by M. S. Brannon

  None of us think. We only move as we head out into the night, and I come face-to-face with the life I was so desperately trying to save us from. Absolutely nothing could prepare me for what I am going to see when I approach Drake’s apartment.

  As soon as I’m done with this, Carter Brown and I are going to have a little chat.

  Three hours pass before we are finally told Presley has survived her drug overdose. She had a close call and basically was told, if she doesn’t get help, she will die. Drake and Delilah have made arrangements to have her taken to a rehab facility in Memphis. I feel a slight amount of relief knowing she will be fourteen hours away from this hellhole, but the feeling is short-lived.

  The sight of my family falling apart in one uniform moment made all the slight, peaceful emotions disintegrate. Then there was the haunting look on Drake’s face that cut me to the core. His eyes were gaunt, then they flipped to a raging ocean of fury when he thought Presley had died. He snapped like we’ve never seen, tackling Jake to the hallway floor, beating the shit out of him. It took a lot of strength from Reggie and me to pull him off. He had seriously flipped, and until he knew Presley was still alive, Drake became murderous.

  Flashes of Presley’s dead eyes start reoccurring in my memory from when I watched the paramedics work on reviving her heart. My goal this entire time was to make enough money to get my family away from Sulfur Heights and I’m close—perhaps another year or less—but now it seems that my time is rapidly running out. If I don’t get the money quickly, there won’t be a single family member to take with me.

  After the news of Presley making it through, the family heads home for the night, however I have plans of my own—revenge. I climb into the Challenger and pull my cell phone from my pocket. Ronnie has left several messages. I don’t listen to my voicemail but type a brief text message.

  Carter’s fucked up for the final time.

  Ronnie will probably come looking for me, though by the time he finds me, Carter will be long gone. I have a mission of my own to complete, and it involves me tapping into my dark side to get things done.

  I swallow hard and put my mind in that sinister place. I think of all the reasons why I hate this place; I think about Presley dying on a gurney, Darcie’s battered body, and then Cami left for dead in a pile of trash. Only a place this horrible will allow such atrocities to happen. And Carter Brown is the product of the evilness this place thrives on.

  I toss my phone on the seat and fire my car to life, quickly pulling out of the parking lot and heading over to Carter’s apartment. The streets are wet from the rain shower and the air is cold, yet the chill doesn’t affect me or the emotions that are running rampant through my body. The only feeling I’m allowing myself to tap into is hate.

  I round the corner and edge the Challenger into the parking lot. As quickly as possible, I kill my headlights then slowly ease into a parking space. It’s located toward the back of the complex but has a perfect view of all the units. I’m not sure which apartment is Carter’s, however when Darcie told us he lived in the same building, it only drove my rage to acceleration. The fury was impossible to mask when Drake told Reggie and me that Carter had pulled his nine millimeter on him. He always has it tucked in the back of his pants, although luckily for my brother, Carter didn’t shoot.

  As the rain pounds down heavily against the glass of my windshield, I use the soothing sound to get myself in the game. Its rhythm is keeping time with my head as I remain collected but furious. I can hardly stand to sit in this seat, yet I need to remain here. I will not go anywhere until I give Carter the beating he so rightfully deserves.

  The apartment grounds are dark and the vegetation growing around the pool area is unkempt. It masks the apartment doors slightly, but I can stills see them. And I can see when a figure dressed in black appears from the shadows. They are walking up the sidewalk, carefully trying to keep hidden from random traffic.

  My eyes bore into the person as they creep closer and closer to the building. When the light from the street lamp hits his face, I see that it’s Carter.

  I sit still long enough to watch him slink through the apartment grounds and walk up to the gate, unlatching it. Then he moves through the wrought iron.

  It’s hard to see him from where I’m parked, so I take a chance and carefully climb out of my car. The cold rain collides with my hot skin as I keep myself low and in the shadows. I bring my body against the building, pressing my back to the wood. I keep my eyes focused on Carter’s back as I lean out to open the gate when he stops and pulls keys from his pocket. I yank myself back next to the building, blending into my surroundings as Carter unlocks his apartment door.

  I look at my watch and see that approximately a minute has gone by since he entered his apartment. I’m sure he’s not leaving just yet. So, as quickly as possible, I move out of the dark shadows and walk through the gate, hanging close to the overgrown landscaping.

  With every inch that I get closer, my alter ego comes to life. By the time I reach Carter’s door, I am completely consumed with him. I will need the element of surprise in order to gain access inside. Carter won’t open the door for me, especially since it’s an unspoken rule that we don’t bother each other at our homes and I just “happened” to discover where he lives. Yeah, I don’t think he would be too happy about that. He would know me showing up at his door meant something very bad for him.

  I cross over the walkway and get flush to the side of the building. With my left hand, I reach over and knock on his door then sink back into the wall. I can hear him scrambling behind the door. He’s probably looking out the peephole, pistol drawn. Seconds tick by, but it feels more like an eternity. Then the latch sounds. The scraping metal of the chain lock slides and the dead bolt clicks. I keep my eyes fixed to the door knob, waiting for it to turn. My eyes don’t look anywhere else as everything around me vanishes.

  The knob moves.

  Here we go.

  I release a deep breath and lunge forward. Carter is stunned as my body charges through the door. His pistol fires once, making my ears ring, but he misses my body. This enrages me even more. I physically see only him, and I’m fueled by my wrath and hate. My muscles are pulled tight across my frame as sweat mixed with rain runs down my face. There is blood-fueled fury coursing through my veins. It’s his blood I want on my hands tonight.

  As I fall onto Carter and we crash to the ground, I see his gun still in his hand and Carter is trying to pull it on me. I shift my weight, pressing my torso into his as I reach for the gun. I squeeze his wrist with enough force to cut off the blood supply to his hand, then I yank it up and slam it down onto the floor.

  Carter’s eyes connect with mine when I yank his arm up again before plowing it into the tile. His grip loosens enough for me to yank the pistol from his hand.

  When I cock the hammer back and press the nose of the gun into his temple, Carter freezes instantly. Time stops as I look into his golden eyes. I knew when we met three years ago there was something about his eyes that were heinous. Carter is a sick fucking prick, and the very sight of him chills me to the deepest parts of my core. He is twisted and thirsty for torture and blood.

  I know how Carter operates and I know I need to keep myself on alert, so I sit back on his body, keeping the gun pointed at his head when I climb off and stand to my feet.

  “Get up,” I demand. My tone is clipped as my alter ego remains in charge.

  Carter gets up off the floor, keeping his eyes connected with mine. The gun is trained on his skull still as I pull out a chair and motion with my eyes for Carter to sit down. His hands rise in a surrendering position as he moves slowly to the chair and plants himself on the seat.

  I take a step back. I need the details then it will be my pleasure to end his life.

  “You know, Jeremy, Matt will be none too pleased with you being here.” Carter lowers his hands and folds them on his lap. There’s a snakelike smile spread across his face.

  I want to
destroy him. I take a brief look at the table and find a pile of heroin haphazardly sitting out. What a useless fucking prick. He leaves his drugs laying around for everyone to see. The sight pisses me off more. He is being completely careless with the business; we are lucky the police haven’t caught on to our operation.

  “And what about you, Carter? You haven’t exactly been the model employee, now have you?” My eyes motion to the pile of heroin on the table and he follows them slowly. I keep my body tight, the gun remaining pointed at his head.

  “What do you know about it, Evans?”

  “Tell me,” I demand. Before I kill him, I need to know why.

  “Tell you what?” Carter has not stopped smiling and the sight infuriates me beyond my control.

  Quickly, I move forward and slam the butt of the gun into the side of his head. I hit him hard enough to hurt, but not so hard as to knock him unconscious. Blood races from the gash on his cheek and drips down onto the floor. “Tell me! What were you doing with her?” I scream at him then draw my hand back. This time, I slug him with my fist as I keep the gun in the other hand. His lip busts open and more blood is oozes out.

  Carter’s breathing is labored as he slumps forward in the chair. He looks confused at first, but when I raise my hand again, he stops me mid-strike, recalling what I was demanding. “Okay!” He holds his hands up again and spits blood onto the floor. “You’re referring to Presley…? That’s easy; she’s mine. She has been from the moment I saw her.”

  I roll my eyes, knowing she doesn’t want him like that and he sounds stupidly ridiculous. “What else would I be referring to? When was the first time you saw her?”

  “The first time I saw her was at the races a couple of years ago.”

  I start going through the memories in my head. I don’t recall ever seeing him there, yet when I’m in the zone, the only thing I’m focusing on is winning.

  “She was beautiful and looked so much different than she does today. Her hair was shorter back then.” Wait, short hair. When Robert Stein kidnapped Presley and held her captive for two weeks, he had chopped off all of her hair, which means Carter has been around for longer than three years. “I couldn’t take my eyes off her. She looked so young and innocent and haunted. Your fucking brother had his hooks in her every time I’d see her, though.

  “Sometime later, I followed her to an old, abandoned park. She was very sad while she sat on that swing, all alone, and I knew it was my time to finally talk to her. She just found out she was pregnant with your brother’s child and was debating on killing it. Remember?” Carter wipes the blood off with the back of his hand then spits the rest pooling in his mouth onto the floor.

  I move back through the memories in my mind, remembering how upset the family was with Presley; no one more than Drake. They didn’t talk for a while, but I was too into my double life to really understand what was going on.

  “Why Presley?” I ask in an attempt to try to understand their connection.

  “Because she’s perfect and needed to be rescued. You were all stupid enough not to see it, but I saw it. Every day, when I followed her, I knew she needed someone to understand what was going on with her. Your fucking brother is a blind idiot. He could never take care of her the way I could. I made sure she would never feel pain. I could make her feel pleasure, and until the other day, we had that. She told me she wanted me, not him.” Carter readjusts himself in the chair while I take a second to gather myself.

  I’m blown away and pissed off more at myself. I’ve had no idea Carter has been stalking Presley all this time. Why would he do this? Actually, I know why; because he’s a sick fucking prick, that’s why.

  It’s time for this fucker to die. I want to kill him and I don’t care about the consequences of my actions. I will deal with the Rykers in good time. I just need to get rid of this fucking stalker. He is a loose cannon when it comes to our business life, and he made this very personal when he openly admitted to stalking Presley.

  I move in closer to Carter’s sitting body. He is still panting with deep, heavy breaths, but the blood leaking from his face has finally stopped and is drying to his skin. I lean in close, getting my face within inches from his, feeling his hot breath against my skin that smells awful.

  As I lift the gun, pressing it once again to his temple, the golden flakes of evil shimmer in his eye while he continues sporting his snakelike grin. With one last deep breath, I summon my own evilness. I’m about to use a gun to destroy Carter for good. I pull the hammer back and put my finger on the trigger. I’ve barely held a gun, let alone shot one, however Carter will be my first and last experience with this weapon. Tonight, he dies.

  The tension is tight on the trigger, and at any moment, his brains will be splattered over the walls. When a sharp, painful sensation pierces the skin of my arm, I pull back on the trigger and the popping sound deafens me. I take a step back and Carter has not been shot. He is out of his seat and tackling me to the ground. The pain in my arm is still there, however my adrenaline is masking the intensity of it.

  My head strikes against the hard floor, stunning me, but before I can be down too long, I use my good arm and pull it back. My fist connects with Carter’s rib cage. The mere force of my blow knocks him off me and then I pounce, rolling to my side, briefly seeing steel hanging out of my arm. That fucker stabbed me. The rage explodes inside my body.

  I’m straddling Carter’s lap, landing punch after punch into his body, hitting him anywhere I can do damage. My fist has taken on a life of its own as I pound away at Carter’s body. He’s going to die tonight. I’m going to kill him. He will no longer be alive and nothing in this moment gives me more pleasure.

  As I look down at his face, it’s barely recognizable, but he’s still breathing. Both his eyes are swollen and I can no longer see them. I quickly roll off him and snatch his neck between my bicep and the forearm of my good arm.

  Just as I start to squeeze, Ronnie comes flying through the door. He stops, looking surprised as hell, and I have to say I feel the same way. I was planning on being long gone before Carter was discovered. Then Ronnie seems to snap out of his trance and yells at me, “Jeremy, run!” I look to him, more confused now. Run? Why would I run? I’m about to kill him. “Victor and Tank; they’re almost here. You need to get out of here. They’re coming here to confront Carter, but you’ve gotta go! They will kill you if they find out you were here. They will think you are in on it. Come on!” Ronnie’s eyes are serious and digging into my soul.

  With regret, I release Carter from my grip and toss his body to the ground.

  “Come on, man! You have to get to your car and get the hell out of here.” Ronnie yanks on my arm and pulls me out of the apartment. We leave Carter, practically dead on the floor in his kitchen. But practically is not good enough; he needs to be finished. As soon as I know it’s safe, I will be the one to finish the job.

  The rain is pouring down as we make our way out of the gate and to the parking lot. Ronnie gets into his beat up Chevy blocking the walkway while I run to my Challenger parked at the back of the lot.

  My arm is on fire and the knife is still hanging out of my muscle. I quickly fall into the driver’s door and fire my car to life. Like a rocket, I fly out of the parking space and down the opposite side of the lot. Just as I make my way onto the street, I flip on my headlights and glance out my rearview mirror. Tank’s black Ford F150 is turning into the apartment complex. I’ve just barely been able to evade them in time.

  The pain in my arm is throbbing as the blood drains from the wound. I need to get this cleaned up, but I refuse to go to a hospital. I slowly drive to my house and notice all the cars in the driveway. When I slow down, I can see the light in the garage is shining from the crack under the door. It’s nearly three in the morning, which means someone forgot to shut off the light or Reggie is working the heavy bag. I can’t risk getting caught. If Reggie sees a knife in my arm, he will push me to answer questions, and I don’t ever plan on telling
him what I’ve been up to the last few years.

  I slowly drive past my house and find myself rounding the corner to her block. When the small stucco house comes into view, my body and mind yearn to be near Cami. It’s been a month since I’ve seen her, touched her, or even talked to her. I need her now more than I need my sanity. I need to feel the comfort of my very best friend and the woman I care about.

  I end up driving the Challenger back around the block, taking it to my house. As quickly as possible, I shut off the headlights and pull the car into the driveway. I park off to the side where I can hear Reggie blasting his workout music in the garage.

  I take a moment to sit in my car and think about how Cami will feel to see me after a month of no communication. Will she be happy? Or will she shut me out of her life the way I shut her out of mine?

  I lay my head back against the seat, my arm burning and bleeding as I picture her face. I picture the version I hope to see when I reach her house. I close my eyes and envision myself running down the driveway and disappearing along the street. I picture the rain lightly falling and my arm bleeding. Then, I would find myself at her bedroom window. Without hesitation, I would lift my hand to the glass and tap. When she comes to the window, Cami would look like Heaven and the sight of her would make me grin despite myself. I would look into her eyes and just smile. In my vision, she can’t resist flashing me her radiant smile. My pain would leave my body as I take in the beauty before me.

  She is happiness and solace for me. The spirit and energy I need in order to keep myself motivated to maintain doing what I’m doing for my family. Her milk chocolate eyes, raven black hair, and silky caramel skin draws me in. I exit my car and head down the street into the rain, hoping the entire time my vision of her will be the same as reality.