Seeking Redemption

by Kylie Hillman

  Timber drags in a deep breath, holds it, and then lets it out his mouth. His shoulders sink back to a more natural position so I let go of his arm.

  “Sir,” Andi says in a firm voice. “I’m not a snob. As far as I’m concerned your money is as good as everyone else’s. However, that ring contains a diamond that’s not often seen in Australia so it was sold first thing this morning to an interstate customer. That’s what I was trying to tell you.”

  “You’re shitting me?” Timber’s voice rises and the other couple in the store turn to look at us again. Casper pokes his head back through the doorway he left by, retracting it like a turtle seeking refuge in his shell when Timber snarls at him.

  “I’m sorry but it’s gone.”

  I don’t know who I feel sorrier for—Timber or Andi. His disappointment is palpable and she’s freaking out that the giant in her store is about to lose his temper. If I’m honest, I feel the sorriest for myself, because this is the second time today I’ve been gripped by actual fucking emotions over shit that affects others, and I’m not liking it at all. The constant drama is reminding me why I enjoy the numbness of meth so much.

  “Is it gone as in left the store? Or has it just been sold pending pickup?” I question her. Turning on the charm, I make my eyes soft and give her the please-help-me, I’m-too-cute-to-say-no-to face that works on every living creature with a vagina and a pulse. She liquefies into a puddle of desire.

  As they all do.

  “It’s still in the store but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s sold.”

  If it’s still on the premise, then it’s not sold as far as I’m concerned. Shooting Timber a glance that warns him to shut the fuck up and let me handle this, I lean down and give Andi the full force of my baby blues. I even throw in my panty-melting grin for good measure.

  “Say someone offered you thirty-two thousand right now, would it be possible for a mix-up to have occurred?”

  I hold my breath while I watch Andi think over my proposition. To her credit, she makes her mind up quickly.

  “It’s possible that for thirty-five thousand cash, I might have received an earlier phone call from a customer and neglected to pass this information on to my manager. My manager isn’t back in until tomorrow morning so there’s also a chance that I can assist you with this unfortunate error right now.”

  She grins once she’s laid down her terms. This woman has a bit of devil in her; I can see it in her eyes.

  Looking at Timber, who to my surprise has heeded my earlier request to stay silent, I lift my eyebrows at him. He doesn’t seem too keen about the arrangements.

  “Timber?”

  “It’s fucking daylight robbery, but I’ll do it.”

  He grabs his envelope and stalks toward the door, throwing a terse order over his shoulder as he leaves.

  “Wait here. I need to get more money.”

  Anyone who heard his comment would assume that he’s heading to the bank to withdraw more money like a normal person. I know that he’s actually heading back to the van to grab some of the cash stashed in it. The Shamrocks run what could be termed a “cash economy”.

  “So Andi, what’s a woman who looks like you doing in a place like this?”

  I’m on auto pilot as I begin with my usual plays. Put a hot woman in front of me and I’m off—flirting without any actual intent, except to see if I can get in her pants. It’s a game to me, always has been. Today, it doesn’t feel as satisfying, and the need that typically pulls at me is missing.

  Lacey. Her name floats around my mind. Clanging like a bell, it haunts me, calling to me, reminding me that I need to make amends with her. My soul’s dirty, stained with the blood and tears of my family, yet the yearning I have to seek redemption from her is unmatched in its potency.

  “Are you really going to try it on with me?” Andi pulls me from my jumbled thoughts. She hits me full-force, right in the face with a sympathetic smile. “What’s your name, handsome man?”

  “Benji.”

  “Well, Benji, I’m a perceptive woman. I can see in those big, blue eyes of yours that you’re pretty fucked up at the moment and your heart’s not in this. Now, you might laugh at this after I’ve just scalped your friend for five thousand dollars, but I care about people. If I didn’t have a sick kid and medical expenses coming out of my ass, I would’ve found a way to get him the ring or one similar for no extra cost. I’m a sucker for love and a blind person can see that he’s head over heels for his girlfriend.”

  I’m shocked as all hell at her speech. Looking at her, with her rocking body and her uniquely colored hair, the last thing I expected was such a down-to-earth, honest conversation.

  Before I can reply, she continues, “You, on the other hand, look like you haven’t figured out yet that you’re in love. The pain in your eyes can only be put there by a woman, and I’d bet the five grand I’ve just made from your friend, on you being too big of an idiot to realize that she’s the only one who can take it away for you. So here’s a hot tip from someone who’s been there and come out the other side—tell her how you feel, do whatever it takes to make it up to her—”

  Andi pauses, her mouth widening into a cheeky smile that takes some of the sting out of her previous words. “And stop hitting on random women in jewelry stores. Especially ones who could kick your ass. We women need to stick together so I’ve got your girl’s back, even if she doesn’t know it.”

  The buzzer at the entrance sings its song, letting me know that Timber’s returned. He strides over to us. Thankfully, the ill-humor that was clouding his expression when he left is gone, and his usual amiable air has returned.

  “All right. Let’s do this.”

  He hands Andi a thick wad of fifty-dollar notes. She’s smart enough to take him at face value and not count it in front of him.

  “Casper,” she calls out loudly.

  He pokes his head into the display area, his face falling when he sees that we’re still here.

  “Yes, Andi?”

  “Bring me the four-carat, purple pear-cut diamond engagement ring with the smaller baguette diamonds.”

  “Didn’t that sell this morning?” he questions, suspicion growing in his gaze.

  “Yes, it did. This is the gentleman who phoned to purchase it,” Andi snaps. Her abrupt tone is a stark contrast to the purr we’ve heard from her since our arrival, and it makes me and Timber smile. It confirms my original thought that she has more backbone than her innocent-looking face forecasts.

  Casper turns and practically runs to do her bidding.

  Chicken shit.

  Andi uses experienced hands to sort the notes in front of her and pockets what looks like her five grand cut down the front of her top and into her bra. She winks at me, and I give her one in return.

  Bored out of my brains as I listen to Timber ask questions about resizing and some other shit, I zone out. Andi’s words about my feelings for Lacey and my need to fix what I fucked up race around my mind, and for the first time in my life, I try to examine my emotions instead of running from them. My stomach churns and nausea threatens when I think about the dozens of times that Lacey’s made it known in her quiet way that she’s falling for me. I swallow—hard—when I remember how I dismissed her with flippant comments about being fuck buddies.

  I’m a cunt. An A-grade, fair-dinkum douchelord.

  It’s a bitter pill to swallow, but it’s not a surprise judgement I’m casting on myself. The shit I’ve pulled in my life hasn’t been covered in glitter and fairy-dust. I’ve been responsible for some asshole moves on the people who care about me the most.

  A squeal of laughter tinged with fear startles me.

  Timber has picked Andi up from her position behind the counter and lifted her over it. He swings her around in the air before planting a kiss on her cheek. Depositing her back on the ground, he pats her on the top of the head. She swats him away from her and fixes her hair.

  “Even though you robbed me, I’m still
fucking thankful that you helped me out.”

  Reaching past her, he jots something down on the notepad next to the cash register. Tearing the page free, he hands it to her.

  “That’s my number. If you ever need anything, give me a call. Use it wisely, it’s good for one favor. That’s it.”

  Her mouth forms a wide ‘O’ and her eyes turn glassy.

  “Thank you so much.”

  “It’s nothing,” he replies. Grabbing the small bag with the ring in it that’s sitting on the counter, he nods at her in farewell and walks to the exit.

  “I’ll see you around,” I say as I turn to follow him. Dragging in a deep breath, I stop for a second. “And thanks for the advice.”

  She beams up at me. Fuck, she really is much tinier than her personality leads you to believe. “If it sinks into your thick male head, then you’re welcome.”

  As much as it kills me, I bite my tongue and choke on my smartass comeback.

  Fluffing her hair, like Timber did earlier, I chuckle when I hear her cursing me as the exit doors swing shut behind us.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  LACEY

  Eighteen Months Earlier

  “Come on,” Connor snaps at me. “Stop being such a whiny little bitch and try it. Wouldn’t hurt you to loosen up a bit, might make you a better fuck. Last night it felt like I was sticking my cock in a corpse.”

  I gulp down half of my glass of wine and look at the loaded glass pipe Connor’s holding out to me. He’s been trying to talk me into smoking crystal meth with him for a while now.

  “I can’t. My job randomly drug tests.”

  Grabbing my hair, he pulls my head back and leers down at me. His eyes are glazed and red-ringed, showing that he’s already high. I thought he was when I got home from work half an hour earlier, but I’d been too afraid to ask. Connor’s been spending so much time at the Clubhouse lately that I was surprised to find him waiting for me with takeout and wine. He boasted that something he’d been working toward for a long time was finally cemented today so he wanted to celebrate with me.

  Why would he want to celebrate with me? That was the first question that’d sprung to mind when he handed me a plate of Thai food and a glass of my favorite wine. Recently, Shadow and Sherri have been his constant companions, and I’ve just been the nagging girlfriend that he pushes around when he comes home hungover.

  My subconscious strikes; reminding me that the bruises on my ribs and my sprained wrist aren’t from him pushing me around. The injuries are from him beating me up last weekend because his dinner was cold when he returned home after midnight, without even a text to say he was going to be late.

  “Stick your fucking excuses up your ass, Lacey. We both know you’re off for a week.” He lets go of my hair and I blink back the tears that are forming beneath my eyelids—from the memories or his current anger, I can’t tell. What I do know is, if I cry, he’s going to get worse.

  “All right.” I concede. “Just this once though.”

  Connor pushes the pipe toward me again and this time I take it. Placing my wine glass on the coffee table, I put the pipe to my lips and hold out my hand for the lighter. He passes it to me, the glimmer of triumph shining from his handsome features grows bigger as I spark the lighter and touch the flame to the rock in the pipe.

  I inhale, mimicking the movements I’ve watched Connor make many times before during this past year. Holding the sweet tasting smoke in my lungs, I wait for some kind of reaction. I’ve smoked pot many times before, although not that often since I finished most of my on-campus study and began rotations at the hospital. I’m expecting a similar feeling.

  What hits me is nothing like weed. The high is like a rush of liquid courage. My heart starts pounding in my chest, my head spins, and once it stops the world appears crisper, more real, almost fuller in some weird way. It’s similar to when I put my reading glasses on and everything becomes clearer, although this feeling is less about vision and more about perception.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Connor breaks through my rambling considerations. He laughs when I look at him. I can imagine the astonishment in my expression because I’ve been told many times that every emotion I have appears on my face.

  “It’s certainly different,” I laugh. Why? I don’t know, but everything seems funny.

  Connor perches on the arm of my chair and pulls me into him. He nuzzles the top of my head with his cheek and runs a finger down my cleavage. For the first time in months, I don’t feel repulsed by his touch.

  “Wait there, baby.”

  I watch with wide eyes as Connor moves to the couch and sends a message on his mobile. He looks at me with a sly gleam in his eyes that sets my teeth on edge. He’s up to something.

  “Come here,” he crooks a finger in my direction as he speaks. Without thought, I rise to my feet and walk to him. When I move to sit next to him, he grabs hold of my hips and stops me.

  “Undress for me.”

  “Connor...”

  “No, Lacey. Don’t start. Just do what you’re told tonight. Can’t we have a good night together, for once?”

  In spite of the good feelings my drug-induced high has coursing through my system, Connor’s tone manages to make me feel afraid. I begin to peel my top off, dropping it onto the floor at his feet before I unclasp my bra and pull it from my chest.

  “That’s it, babe. See? You can be so sexy when you try.”

  Clenching my teeth together, I make his words wash over me. This is the nicest he’s been for a while so I don’t want to ruin it by getting upset at his back-handed compliment.

  I concentrate on moving slower and sexier by taking my time to lower my skirt to the floor. Once I’ve stepped out of it, I wriggle my panties down my hips and step out of them as well.

  “Down.”

  I drop to my knees in front of him. He unzips his jeans and pulls his cock out.

  “I wanna blow job.”

  My stomach lurches and I begin to feel queasy. I hate giving blow jobs. I’m not good at them; my gag reflex is too sensitive and Connor always thrusts too far into my mouth and makes me feel like vomiting. I’m scared I’m going to throw up on him one day.

  He notices my hesitation but I beat him to the punch. Before he can say anything mean or force my head down, I take his hard cock between my lips and begin to slide back and forth down his shaft. Using my tongue to lick the underside in the way he likes, I have him moaning in minutes. When his hand comes down on the back of my head, I brace my palms against his thighs and try to relax my throat as much as I can.

  Letting him pillage my throat, I do my best to contain my need to gag each time he thrusts too far. Because I was expecting him to blow in my mouth, I’m shocked when he pulls away from me. Grabbing me by the arm, he swings me onto my knees on the couch and bends me so my chest is resting over the backrest.

  “I don’t know why you bothered getting this?” Connor flicks my clit piercing, disdain dripping from each word. “It’s not like it’s made it easier for me to get you off.”

  My bottom lip quivers. It’s not my fault that I don’t orgasm with him anymore. I used to...until he started belittling me. Now my body refuses to cooperate, no matter how hard I try to enjoy his touch. I press my lips together and beg the tears that are threatening to go away.

  Connor pushes one finger into me, and lackadaisically pumps it within me for a moment before removing it.

  “Dry as fuck. Frigid bitch.”

  That’s it. I can’t take this anymore. Whatever artificial contentment the crystal meth imbued in me has fled at his latest nasty comment. Lifting myself from the back of the couch, I move away from my asshole boyfriend. I don’t get far. He grabs me by the nape of my neck and bends me back over the couch again. Then, he shoves his cock into me and thrusts away.

  With one hand around the back of my neck and the other holding my right hip, he holds me in place. I lie there and let him take his fill, grinding my teeth when he starts to drive int
o me with more force. In my head, I refuse to acknowledge that I shouldn’t be laying here in pain gritting my teeth. If I had any pride left, I’d be pushing him off of me and demanding that he gets the hell out of this house. Instead of taking action, I swallow my growing feelings of shame and concentrate on praying that he’ll finish quickly.

  I’m jolted from my thoughts when our front door opens. I try to lift my head to see who the intruders are but Connor refuses to let me. He continues pumping his cock into me as if we are still alone. When the newcomers greet Connor, I recognize their voices straightaway.

  What the hell are Shadow and Sherri doing in my house?

  “Shadow.” Connor greets him.

  I can hear Sherri giggling and it makes my mouth run dry.

  Please God. Don’t let this head where I think it’s about to.

  “Looking good there, Lacey,” Shadow drawls.

  He moves around to the other side of the couch so we’re facing each other. Winking at me, he thrusts his crotch in my face. I push against Connor’s restricting arms when Shadow’s intent becomes clear but I don’t get anywhere. He simply holds me tighter.

  “No! Connor, let me up,” I beg in a shrill voice. Panic grips me and I try to get away from both men.

  Connor leans down and whispers in my ear, “Don’t fucking embarrass me. Shadow’s let me have Sherri plenty of times. Tonight, it’s my turn to pay up.”

  Shaking my head as hard as I can, bile rises in my throat when I think about Connor and Sherri in bed together. I’ve had my suspicions, yet I thought that Connor’s possessiveness might mean he’d stay faithful to me like I have to him.

  “No!”

  “Say no again and see what happens when they leave,” he threatens me at a level only I can hear. “You’re my Old Lady so you do as I fucking say.”

  My pulse pounds in my ears, racing so fast that it roars like the ocean during a hurricane. The sound drowns out whatever it is that Connor and Shadow say to each other over my head. I struggle for control of my body again without success, falling still when Connor jams his fist against my already sore ribs. Message received—loud and clear.