Regretting Redemption

by Bonnie R. Paulson

  Irascible control consumed him. He pushed her behind him, to the door, taking the flannel from his arm and shaking it off before wrapping the soft material around her naked and damaged back. “Let me handle Edward. Here’s my phone, get out to the truck and stay there until the cops arrive. Don’t argue with me on this one, Mary.” His whisper was fierce.

  Edward shut off the music and called to Mary. “Get back in here and dance for me, you stupid woman.”

  “Where is he?” Ian followed Mary’s finger as she pointed toward the living room.

  She whispered even softer. “He’s by the door in the easy chair.” She gripped his arm. “He has a gun.”

  Ian’s gaze met Mary’s and he grinned humorlessly while he murmured into the silence. “Let me dance for him. Go.”

  She nodded and Ian was glad she didn’t fight him on staying. He waited until she was completely through the still open door and down the two back steps. Then Ian pushed open the door, gun held aloft and fired four or five shots without focusing in the dark room. A blast not from his own gun echoed in the room after his blasts faded.

  A grunt underscoring the last shot gave Ian pause. He didn’t lower the weapon. Eyes adjusted, he searched the room for Edward.

  The man sat in Mary’s chair with his shirt off and a gun gripped in his hand resting in his lap. A bright red hole bled from his abdomen. Little tufts of white stuffing on the seat by his shoulder showed where the other shots had hit.

  Edward groaned, clutching at the torn skin. “You shot me.” His gun slid to the ground as he struggled with his slippery skin.

  Ian didn’t comment. He didn’t care enough to waste his time.

  The sound of sirens wailed in the distance. He turned, catching a glimpse of the bullet hole in the kitchen door before leaving the house the way he came.

  Mary would be scared and he’d have to talk to the police. He had nothing to hide and for once, he’d done what he deemed necessary, despite what the cops might say. Or what anyone might say.

  For the first time since Elena died, Ian felt like he’d finally stopped standing in the corner and stepped up to help someone he cared about.

  In the split second he’d seen Mary’s ravaged skin, he’d known how much he did care about her and the emotion was overwhelming.

  Things could only grow from there, even if he did spend a few years in jail.

  Chapter 21

  Mary

  Scabs on her back and thighs caught on the material of her jeans so Mary wore her loathsome skirts.

  But at least this time, wearing them was her choice – not Edwards.

  His memorial would be the next day and since he’d died two days before, Mary had offered his parents who lived in California the things he’d given Mary. They were supposed to pick them up sometime that day.

  Who else was she expecting? Oh, the realtor. She said she’d be by later as well.

  Mary didn’t expect her sisters. She didn’t expect Ian.

  She’d stopped expecting things, anything, when she’d run from the back door of her house and into the arms of police officers. They’d taken one look at her and rushed her to the ambulance pulling into the front of her house.

  Memories of the cool-to-burning cleaning solution the paramedics had placed on her back made her shudder.

  The ambulance had driven away before she could see Ian. Make sure he was okay. According to her sister, ballistics had cleared Ian from a case based on the shot Edward had fired. He’d missed, but Ian hadn’t.

  Mary sat gingerly on the floor, her legs crossed as she packed another box. She wiped at her forehead. “When did I get so much stuff?” She closed the top of the box and pushed it toward the pile in the center of the living room. She hadn’t stopped packing since she got home.

  The house was no longer her home.

  She’d called Lisa from the hospital and asked to stay there for a little bit, until she got things in line. Her sister had been adamant that there wasn’t a time limit. And while Mary had considered her mother’s, she wasn’t ready for that kind of pressure on their relationship.

  A brown corner caught her eye from behind the sofa. She leaned forward, pulling the box out. She froze, afraid for a moment as if the staring at the unobtrusive container would free her from Edward’s grasp. She’d forgotten about Devlyn’s things. For a fleeting moment, she’d thought maybe Edward had left something for her to find. She laughed. “What are you going to do? Use a belt on my front half?”

  Jerking the box even closer, Mary yanked the flaps open and stared at the pile of papers, pictures, and odd items like a ticket stub and other small wooden boxes.

  Her mom had collected obsessively, carefully cutting around newspaper articles, stacking items with utmost care.

  Tears welled in Mary’s eyes at the sight of a picture she’d drawn of her and her dad under a rainbow. He’d brought her a small umbrella after being gone for a few weeks. She remembered the joy in seeing him after so long of an absence. She was six.

  A knock on the door drew her attention and she wiped at her cheek, suddenly tired. She didn’t want to talk to Edward’s parents. They would probably ask her a bunch of questions and she wasn’t up for socializing and pretending their son hadn’t destroyed so much of her life.

  She pushed her butt off the floor, tender muscles and soreness still heavily focused as she moved. “Just a second.” She finally stood, stretching before pulling open the door.

  Ian.

  Mary drew her eyebrows together. A memory flashed in her mind of him standing in front of her at the door while she stood there with nothing but an apron on. Edward pointed a gun at her behind the door.

  That was over. She was fine. She tucked her hair behind her ear, and offered a smile. Ian had saved her life after all. He didn’t know how grateful she was because she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him while he’d been talking to the police and she’d been in the hospital.

  Plus, she’d told him she didn’t want to need him.

  Apparently, she needed him a lot more than she thought.

  “Hi.” Hi? Really? Is that what she was going with? Out of everything she could say, she was going with hi.

  “Hello, Mary. How are you?” His eyes didn’t stray from her face, watched her like she might be hiding something, like he expected her to lie.

  Careful not to draw too much attention to the dark scabs on her eyebrow or along her neck, she sighed. Screwing up the left side of her mouth, she fought her sudden tears. “I’m fine.”

  Ian stepped through the door and pulled her carefully into his arms. “Ach, darlin’, you’re not fine. It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” He stroked the back of her head, trailing her hair with his fingers, holding her face softly to his chest and just cradling her.

  The absolute safety in his arms overwhelmed Mary and her tears overflowed. She wasn’t fine before, but with him she would be okay. She moved her arms from between them and wrapped them around his waist.

  Ian sidestepped them into the living room, closing the door and pulling her onto the couch to settle on his lap, treating her with exaggerated care. “I’m glad you’re finally out of the hospital. I tried visiting, but your mom said you weren’t accepting visitors yet.”

  Mary pulled back, taking in the appeal of his features. “You would’ve been welcomed. You’re always welcome.” She dashed at her cheeks. “I need to tell you something. I…” Where were her words? How did she spill everything?

  He pressed a finger to her lips. “Mary, you don’t have to tell me anything. I’m glad I was here. I’m sorry I killed him. I didn’t mean to hurt you more, but that guy was no man. Not for you. Not for anyone,” he growled out.

  She shook her head, gently pulling his hand into hers and freeing her lips. “No, I do have to say this. He wasn’t for me. Ever. I knew that even when I was with him, even when we talked about getting married. He wanted my money, which I don’t control. And he… he never made me feel the way you do. Or think the way you do.
He had me convinced I needed him, and I don’t.” She lifted her gaze to his, a swarm of butterflies fluttering her chest. “I need you. I don’t just want you, I need you. I’m safe with you and you make me feel like I can do anything or be anyone. I laugh with you. You don’t realize how rare that is for me.”

  With his calloused thumb, Ian wiped at Mary’s cheeks. “I need you, too. I didn’t realize how much until I’d almost lost you.” His eyes bright, Ian searched Mary’s face.

  Was it too soon to tell him she loved him? He seemed to fit in her heart between the guilt and the desperate desire to belong. He fit and made her feel like she fit.

  She’d never fit before.

  “I know this is fast, but I can’t stop obsessing about you. And not like clinical obsession, but every thought I have is centered around you. I don’t have time for that. I have to be able to focus on my life and work.” He gripped her shoulder. “Can I convince you to help me? If you and I are together, I’ll be able to think of something else once in a while. The only thing I can figure since I met you that makes sense, when nothing else does is… Oh, bloody hell, I’m rambling again.” Ian’s deep voice rumbled in the silence of her living room. “Is it too soon to tell you I love you?”

  Mary burst into laughter, shaking her head. He obsessed about her, thought about her all the time. She’d never been someone’s “all the time.” Or been good enough for anyone to think about for more than a fleeting moment. At least she’d never felt good enough for that.

  With Ian, she did.

  “What’s so funny?” He drew his eyebrows together.

  “I was thinking the exact same question. I don’t think it’s too soon at all.” She glanced at his lips and pushed closer to his chest, not that she could get much closer than being on his lap. “I like that you think about me. Makes me feel like I’m not completely lovesick for always thinking about you.”

  His hands pulled her the few inches left between them and his lips lowered to hers. The heat mounted slowly, gradually, building as their lips moved together.

  When Mary kissed Ian, she didn’t have anything missing.

  They parted and she grinned. “You wouldn’t be interested in helping me get my things to Lisa’s, would you? There’s only a few boxes. A moving company is coming for the rest this weekend.” She played with the hair at his nape, running her fingers through the shorter strands.

  “We won’t make it out of this house, if you don’t stop distracting me.” He growled in mock severity. He brought her fingers around and kissed them each. “I already spoke to Lisa. She’s going to come get your car with Rosie tomorrow. I’m here to drive you back to her place. We didn’t want you by yourself on the roads.” He lightly rubbed her arm with his finger.

  “Thank you. I would love to ride with you.” She extracted herself from his lap and stood. Hitting her shin on the open box, she knocked it over, the contents spilling to the floor. Bending down, Mary groaned. “I guess that’s one way to make myself go through his things.”

  “Whose things?” Ian knelt down and handed her papers and other items as she carefully restacked them to place in the righted box.

  “Devlyn Caracus.” A picture caught her eye. An old newspaper clipping of two girls in the park, twirling around on a tire swing. The caption read, “Friends, Mary and Jenny playing at the park on a summer day.”

  Even the grayscale of the old newspaper print couldn’t hide the similarity of their features or the shape in their eyes. One was blonde and the other a dark brunette.

  “What is it, Mary?” Ian glanced from Mary’s face to the slip of paper.

  Like she might never breathe normally again, Mary gasped. “I think I know how to find out where Jenny is.” She’d seen that park as if in a dream when her mom had driven there after their dog died. Mary had tried so hard to make friends with the little girl, played with her, even gave her a small gold locket her daddy had given her on her birthday. But the older girl never smiled at Mary. Just watched her with big round eyes. Mary had wanted to be friends so bad. As they driven away, she’d asked her mom, “Why didn’t that girl like me?”

  And her mom had replied, “You have nothing in common.”

  Jerking from the memory, Mary worked to get her aching muscles to move as fast as she wanted to, needed to. “We need to leave now. I’ll call Lisa on the way.” She bent and placed the picture on top of the rest of the items in the box and gripped either side. She wasn’t letting the collection out of her sight.

  Ian claimed the box and nodded his head. “You get the rest of your things for overnighting at Lisa’s and I’ll get the truck started.”

  Mary paused at his immediate trust in her. He didn’t question anything she said or give her an ultimatum to do something different. She placed her fingers on his forearm. “Thank you.”

  “For what?” He tilted his head her way, his eyes intent.

  “For letting me believe in myself.” She wouldn’t regret being with him, because he wouldn’t let her regret being herself.

  What more could she ask for in love?

  The end of Regretting Redemption, book #4 of the Redemption series.

  Keep reading for an excerpt from Rewarding Redemption, book #5 of the Redemption series or get it HERE.

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  Acknowledgements

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  My sincerest love and appreciation.

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  Captiva Publishing

  Bonnie R. Paulson

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  Copyright © 2015 Bonnie R. Paulson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any person, living or dead, any place, events or occurrences, is purely coincidental. The characters and story lines are created from the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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  Cover design by Ashley Byland of Redbird Designs

  Editing by Grammar Smith Editing

  Rewarding Redemption, #5

  Chapter 1

  Jenny

  Damn him. Damn everything about him. If not for him, Jenny woul
dn’t have needed to leave home in the first place.

  The last time Jenny was so close to Colby and inside the Clearwater County boundary, she’d been running from Devlyn.

  Dad.

  Jerk.

  The man responsible for her nightmares.

  And the loss of her dreams.

  Running was being kind. If she remembered correctly, when she tried running, her tears had blurred her sight and she ran into a lot of trees and tripped a couple times. To this day she regretted not galloping away on her horse. Echo, the white and black spotted mare she loved so much, would have carried Jenny far.

  Okay, far for a ten-year-old girl.

  Jenny had run onto the Salish reservation because she didn’t know anywhere else that was close enough.

  The people there were kind, sweet, and offered comfort and housing. Especially her friend Thomas Redbird and his family. So giving and loving.

  They’d understood her fear because Devlyn’s gang had just started building their reputation.