Hazel St. James - Fighting For You (Redemption#1)[

by Hazel St James

  Fighting For You

  Book One of the Redemption Series

  By Hazel St James

  Copyright Hazel St James 2013

  Kindle Edition

  Cover Model Justin Coale

  Cover Photo Golden Czermak, Furious Fotog

  Special Thanks To:

  Cover Design: Melissa Stevens

  Storyline Editor: Riane Holt

  Editor: Tanya Keetch

  Formatter: Paul Salvette

  Beta Readers: Karen Thill, Susan Foulkes and Dee Thomas

  Copyeditor: Angela Carlson

  Author Stylist: Lachelle Ingvalson

  Author Photographer: CLP Studio

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events of locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

  There are several copyrighted names used in this story. Credit is given to:

  Audi owned by the Volkswagen Group, AG

  Jeep owned by the Chrysler Group LLC

  This book is dedicated to each and every one of my readers, fans and followers…Enjoy!

  Justin Coale…forever my Apollo

  Alyssa Graham…my Sassy

  Karen and her family…“Sorrow looks down, worry looks back, faith looks up…”

  This story deals with mental illness in its untreated and treated forms. I have used my experiences with the disease as well as experiences from my muse. This is not an easy subject to incorporate into a love story, but it was necessary for both myself and Justin that I do this. I am not a medical or mental doctor…I make no claims that the information in this book is “medically appropriate,” and/or should be used as a guideline for such.

  What I do ask is that if you read this story, and feel the slightest bit of kinship with any of the feelings or issues described herein, please seek help. I have dealt with mental illness my entire life. It is not something to take lightly, and requires a life-time of support. But standing where I am now, I made the right decision all those years ago to accept the help that I was given. Justin couldn’t be…well…Justin JT Coale, if he didn’t either…

  Hugs,

  Hazel St James

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Special Thanks

  Copyright Page

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Prologue

  “Daddy, Daddy, don’t go!”

  “I have to go, Tristan. Be a good boy for Mommy,” the man answered as he continued to walk to his old Buick that was parked in the driveway.

  “But, I don’t want to stay with her. I wanna go with you,” the little boy sobbed.

  The man stopped walking and let his shoulders slump forward. Tristan grabbed a hold of his father’s waist and clutched it as hard as he possible could.

  “Mommy yells at me all the time! Don’t leave, Daddy!”

  The man pulled Tristan free from his leg and scooped him up in his arms, clutching him tightly to his chest. “Grandma is here to help take care of you. I need you to be a big boy and take care of Mommy for me.”

  Tristan clung to his father’s neck, tightly squeezing so that he couldn’t be pulled off, wailing uncontrollably. Daddy just couldn’t leave now, Tristan thought. It was his eighth birthday tomorrow and Daddy had promised to take him fishing. Plus, Mommy slept most of the time and never played catch or did anything with him. Daddy was the one that took him to school, picked him up, fed him the best macaroni and cheese and did all the fun things that Tristan liked to do. Grandma was always too busy to do anything with him, but she did make him good macaroni and cheese. Not like Daddy’s, but still good.

  “Please, Daddy. I’ll be a good boy. Please stay.”

  “Tristan, I love you. Never forget that.”

  His father turned around and headed back towards the house, letting Tristan continue to clutch at him. Once he was near the porch, he pried his little fingers free, and handed him to his grandmother. Tristan tried to pull free from Grammy, but she had her arms locked around his chest and was rocking him from side to side. She softly cooed in his ear, “Tristan, this is for the best.”

  It was mere moments before his daddy had climbed into his car, and without even looking back, he drove away. Tristan pulled free from his Grandma and stomped down the steps to watch his father leave him behind. The car was long gone from his eyes when Tristan whispered, “I love you too, Daddy.”

  Chapter One

  Tristan Hart waited in front of Club Red for the owner, Dominic Pearce to arrive. The man not only owned the club, but had reluctantly agreed to be his mentor and liaison into the BDSM world.

  “You’re here early,” Dominic answered as he stepped out of his SUV. The man pulled his shades off his head, but didn’t walk away from the door of his vehicle. “I forgot to tell you to park in the back. We leave the front spaces for our guests.”

  Tristan just nodded his answer as he climbed back into his car and pulled around to the backside of the building. He almost second-guessed the directions Dominic gave him as he pulled up in front of the log cabin-looking, pristine building that was supposedly the hottest kink club in Colorado Springs. At least that is what his Uncle Morgan had told him.

  Uncle Morgan was Tristan’s last remaining blood relative. He was actually Tristan’s mother’s half-brother, but he was only marginally better than the rest of his mother’s pathetic family, including his own mom. Tristan felt absolutely no remorse when he thought badly of his mother or her family. His uncle was the chewing gum on the bottom of humanity’s shoes, but his mother was the shit on the bottom of those shoes. A day hadn’t passed that he missed his mother, or the ways she would abuse him without leaving any physical marks. Her weapon of choice was always her words.

  Uncle Morgan owned and ran the assembly line plant, J-View Plastics, Inc. The production company was just a front for some of the more shady business deals that Morgan participated in, but Tristan never really got too involved in any of the specifics. Sure, he’d been on the team that was privy to some of the more “intimate” negotiations, but Tristan never really knew what any of it was about, other than to be able to spot key players.

  Dominic Pearce was not only the owner of a kink club, he was also a professor at the community college in town. Highly respected by his peers, he was not the kind of man that would associate with his Uncle Morgan. But there was some history there, as the two warmly greeted each other the day that Dominic came by the plant not too long ago. Tristan just happened to be in the office at the time, instead of out running the line like normal. The camaraderie ended there as they privately dis
cussed something behind closed doors, and Tristan didn’t pay them any attention. Not that he didn’t care, but honestly, as long as his uncle could get him into the posh club, the how wasn’t important.

  There were five large parking spots crowding the back entrance of Club Red. Dominic parked in the one closest to the front door, and Tristan pulled alongside of him. The door on his Audi TTS Coupe didn’t make a single noise as he opened it, and he brushed a piece of lint off the two-tone black and red leather seats before climbing out.

  His red pearl two-hundred plus horsepower luxury sports car was his pride and joy, and he was meticulous about keeping it clean. Tristan worked hard at J-View Plastics so he could have the car, but had spent every last penny he’d saved on the down payment and now could only afford a tiny apartment in the shittiest part of Colorado Springs. A smart man would have ditched the expensive car payments and found a cleaner and safer place to live, but having a tight car that could do zero to sixty in less than five seconds had a way of making hot chicks bend over and grab their ankles, which was a plus.

  The two men walked through the back entrance of the building and past a darkened area with bench seating to the right. Directly in front of them, was a gigantic rectangular room, with an empty banquet table in the very center. A man was leaning over the table, reading some papers that were spread out before him.

  “Chris, thank you for doing this today. This is Tristan Hart. We’re going to give him a crash course on Club Red protocols before he scenes tonight with Valerie. Are you ready to proceed?” Dominic asked using an overly loud, almost angry voice.

  Chris must have sensed something amiss as well, because he didn’t answer, instead stood up straight, and turned around to stare at Dominic with a blank look on his face. The stare down proceeded for a short amount of time, and Chris sighed and lowered his shoulders.

  “Yes, Dominic. If you’re absolutely sure you know…”

  “I’m sure. Now, let’s give Tristan a tour of the club first, shall we?”

  Chris gave a noncommittal grunt and extended his hand towards Tristan. “Chris Lake. I run Club Red with Dominic. I understand you have an interest in BDSM play, but lack the patience to participate in the official training period that we require?”

  The snide tone of voice that he used instantly pushed Tristan to def-com five. “Listen, douchebag, I’ve played around with this before. I’m not a fucking newbie. If you don’t want to be here, who’s stopping you from leaving?”

  In an instant, Chris was standing toe to toe with Tristan, and the blond haired, fairly built dude was eye level with him. There was a cold and menacing look in the man’s face, but Tristan didn’t feel the slightest bit intimidated. Shit, there was very little anymore that made him back down, and the death glare he was getting right now didn’t even phase him.

  For the last three months, Tristan had been riding the ultimate high on life. He had a good job that paid decent, made a good down payment on his little beauty of a car, and had fucked half the mid-twenties female population in town. Plus, he didn’t have to deal with anymore shit from the little that was left from mother’s estate, now that it was finally settled. Tristan was so pumped about everything these days, and his euphoric outlook on life didn’t seem to be waning.

  The only thing that seemed to be less than perfect for the twenty four year old, was his lackluster encounters with the opposite sex. There were countless women that he had banged recently, but none of them even left a tiny bit of memory on him. He’d even experimented with tying up a few of the more willing women and issuing a few spankings here and there. At first, Tristan just assumed that they were all lackluster fucks and he needed to be a bit choosier with his selection of ass that he brought home.

  But after the three way with two ultra-hot and horny blondes, Tristan thought that possibly he was wired to need something more than just your average up against the wall, get them primed, make ‘em scream sex that he was used to. So after a frank discussion with his Uncle Morgan over a few beers, his drunken lips spilled this revelation to his uncle. With a shit-eating grin on his face, he offered to get him “inside” Club Red and experience a different level of power play.

  Tristan continued to stare Chris down and calmly told him, “I don’t think it is necessary for me to go through months and months of training, when I have already participated in this stuff, just not full-time in a club. If this initiation session works out well for both of us, then I’ll go through the full training program. Work for you?”

  Tristan didn’t want to actually take the training program, but he could see from the set to Chris’ jaw that he was not going to win that battle with him, and he needed another ally in order to proceed. As a gesture of good faith, Tristan held out his hand for Chris, and the man reluctantly gave him a quick handshake.

  “Fine. Just so you know, I’m completely against this. But, I trust Dominic’s judgment, so we are doing this anyway.”

  Tristan gave him a curt nod. “So noted.”

  Chris led them around the club for the next two hours, showing Tristan each of the “play” stations and went through in great detail the different pieces of equipment and toys that each station stocked as well as took him to the upper floor to show him the private play rooms. Most of the information was repetitive and Tristan was having a hard time concentrating with the condescending way that Chris showed him how each and every little thing in the rooms worked. There were many times that he had to stifle a yawn or two and even shake his head a little to stay with the tutelage.

  “You both agree that it would be best for Tristan to do a scene with Valerie in one of the public rooms on the main floor, correct?”

  Dominic nodded in agreement, and Tristan just looked at them both puzzled. He wanted to ask the pair if the BDSM community was a bunch of gawkers and preferred everyone to “play” in public, but knew that these two took this shit serious. He’d just gotten on their good sides and didn’t want to fuck that up again.

  “Well, I would suggest a simple spanking scene with Valerie. She can handle quite a bit, but I’m sure we could find a way to keep her on her toes without a whip, or even a flogger.”

  Tristan hadn’t listened to a lot of the drone crap that Chris had told him as they went from room to room, but he did explicitly pay attention when they talked about the basis of BDSM and the fine line between pain and pleasure. Tristan was more interested in the pleasure aspect, but if he needed to add in more pain than just a simple hand spanking to get that ultimate endorphin rush, then so be it.

  “No, man. I’m a quick learner. We’ve got three more hours. All this stuff…” Tristan held up the small paddle that lay next to the restraints on the banquet table. “I got this. Can you show me a few more advanced things? See if I can do it before we throw away the possibility even?”

  Chris looked over to Dominic, who was absent-mindedly staring off towards the staircase on the far right side of the room. “What do you think, Dominic? I would say no, but we’re playing by your rules for this one.”

  Dominic’s face twisted when he heard his name and he snapped his attention back to the pair. Tristan could sense a serious amount of tension on the older man’s face, and his lips were pursed together tightly. He didn’t answer, nor did he even look like he heard what was said, so Chris repeated the question.

  There was a pregnant pause, and then Dominic answered, “No matter what transpired beforehand that led you inside these walls, make no mistake, I will not let you harm anyone with your inexperience, is that clear?”

  “Crystal, Dominic.” Tristan lifted the leather whip by the handle and slowly let it unfurl from its coil. He moved it from side to side a few times and felt not only the weight of the whip, but the raw power that came from the wielder. He’d been privy to a few licks from a switch by his Granny as he was growing up, but he’d never actually used anything like this in his life. Still, Tristan could feel the energy coursing from the length into the handle and then into his hand and ar
m.

  Checking around him to make sure he had the room needed to throw a full arch, he mentally prepared himself to show Dominic and Chris that he was serious about this. Remembering the way that Indiana Jones used his bullwhip, Tristan raised it above his head and circled it wide around and back down. The eight foot coil unfurled and a sonic “crack” sounded when the air connected with the end of its length. Tristan was practically high from the feeling of his strength entering the whip and in turn, the energy reaching a peak at the end and exploding with a deafening sound. His body hummed and the reverberations continued to travel over his skin, bringing every nerve ending to life.

  Tristan flicked the whip again, and a tablecloth nearby flipped up from the air whooshing by. The rush flooded his already endorphin filled body and he gave a wicked smile to no one in particular. His gaze landed on the white tablecloth that had just been fluttering about a moment ago, and he could see that the fabric was sliced perfectly in half. Tristan looked down at the whip in his hand, and the euphoria kept flowing through his veins.

  There was never a time in Tristan’s life that he enjoyed cutting, hurting or maiming others. And that certainly wasn’t what was exciting him right now, either. What did excite him was the possibility of harnessing this power in a way that could mean a new level of sexual fulfillment.

  Tristan knew without a shadow of a doubt now that he needed to do this. It was time to make it happen.

  Chapter Two

  “Have you used a whip before, Tristan?” Dominic asked with rounded eyes. Chris was watching with a similar look on his face, but his eyes were narrowed on him instead.

  “No, just saw it used on television before. It actually seems pretty simple. Mind showing me the basics with this one, Dominic? I’m pretty sure that Chris here has already written me off as a dumbass kid that isn’t worth the air that I breathe.”

  Tristan’s gaze went from Dominic to Chris in a millisecond, and the man was shooting daggers at him with his eyes. “I don’t give a fuck what your impression is of me. But I’m not a serial killer, a rapist, or a Jeffrey Dohmer wannabe. I don’t know what my long term plans are, but I’m not completely sure I’m staying in Colorado indefinitely. I know that there’s more to sex than just the physical and I want to figure it out, because I can just barely get off when I’m with the sexiest fucking chick out there.”