Redemption (Tattoos & Tears - Brody Book 1)

by Amiee Louise

  I’m wearing Brody’s Motorhead t-shirt from last night. The material is soft against my naked body and it looks like a dress on me, but it smells of him. The sight I am greeted with stops me dead in my tracks, Brody stark bollock naked, cooking in his kitchen. His physique never ceases to amaze me, his narrow hips, his muscular thighs, and his broad, tattooed shoulders. His hair is growing out and is styled into a short, messy, faux hawk and he has a weeks’ worth of stubble on his face, he looks rugged and delicious. He turns on the coffee machine and carries on with what he’s doing, while softly humming to the music that is playing in the background, I recognise the song as Hinder What Ya Gonna Do and I take a moment to study him. Brody is extremely muscular and a few inches taller than me, I actually fell small in comparison. The working out he's been doing in his spare time has really paid off, he is all muscle and sinew. I’m admiring the view when I hear him chuckle softly to himself.

  “Enjoying the view, kitten?”

  He spins around, my eyes locking with his.

  “Mmm,” I manage as he stalks towards me gloriously naked.

  When he reaches me, he pulls me close to him. I let him take charge and I don’t stop him. He presses his lips to mine, his tongue generously probing mine, deepening the kiss with every stroke of his tongue. His lips are unusually soft for a guy and the softness of his lips and his week-old stubble is a total contrast, as he presses himself further into me. His erection digging into my lower abdomen, I trace his bottom lip with my tongue, and he buries his hand in my sleep mussed hair, as if he can't get enough of me. The low rumbling sound he makes, lets me know he's more than turned on. I wrap myself around him, telling him wordlessly that I'm more than ready to rock his world.

  “Someone’s woken up with the horn!” he grins.

  He lifts me effortlessly off my feet and I wrap my legs around his waist. His lips don’t leave mine, as he strides with purpose back up the stairs to his bedroom and deposits me as if I weigh nothing in the middle of the bed. His muscles undulate with his precise, animal-like movements, as he crawls up the bed, settling himself between my thighs. He presses a kiss to my inner thigh and my skin breaks out in goose bumps at his feather light touch.

  “You like that, huh?”

  His voice low and rough.

  “Yesss,” I hiss as he lifts his t-shirt to find I’m not wearing any underwear.

  “Fucking tease!” he whispers, swiping his split tongue up my soaking wet slit.

  “Oh God!” I mewl, desperate for him to take care of the luscious throbbing between my thighs.

  "Fuck, you're beautiful, you know that?"

  I smile shyly and he reaches up to grip the back of my head.

  "Do you know what you do to me, kitten? You drive me fucking insane, every time you're near me, I want to bury my cock so deep into you, that we both never forget what it feels like. I want to smear your lipstick and I want the neighbours to know who you fucking belong to."

  His words are my undoing, as I crash my lips urgently to his and I squeeze the back of his neck almost territorially. I can't get enough of this man, he's so beautifully damaged and so perfectly imperfect, that I couldn't let him go if my life depended on it.

  Brody

  The day goes by in a blur of slow, lazy weekend sex and just enjoying being in our own little bubble together. She’s been asleep for a while and I find myself envying the fact she gets a full night of uninterrupted sleep. The nightmare which has haunted me for years, is back with a vengeance, for the fourteenth night in a row. There isn’t a night that goes by that I don’t wake up thick with perspiration and my nightmare clinging to me like a cloak of absolute despair. Fuck me. As I lie in my queen size bed, staring up at the ceiling, the silence fucking taunts me.

  Ever since the incident with Carter, she’s stayed over at my place. Life couldn’t be more perfect, I had a beautiful woman lying in my bed. Naked may I add, yet instead of lying next to her sleeping form content to just lie next to her, I’m pacing the bathroom floor, the nightmare still fresh and clear in my brain. I sit down on the closed toilet lid and drop my head into my hands. When will this shit stop fucking haunting me? I get the familiar roil in my stomach and I leap ungracefully into action. I just about manage to lift the toilet seat up, as I projectile vomit into the toilet bowl, catching sight of my reflection in the mirror. Fuck me, I look like shit.

  I hear a soft tap on the door. Shit, shit, shit, I didn’t want to wake her.

  “Babe, is everything ok in there?” she asks softly with concern in her sleep addled voice.

  I tear off three sheets of toilet paper and wipe my mouth, flushing the toilet before I answer.

  “Everything’s fine, kitten, I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to bed, yeah? I’ll be out in a sec,” I reassure her.

  She rattles the door handle.

  “Why’s the door locked? I heard you throwing up, are you sure you’re ok?”

  She persists. Fuck my life.

  “I had a nightmare that’s all, I didn’t want to wake you, I’m fine,” I admit, aware I sound anything but convincing.

  “You can talk to me, you know? I’m a good listener,” she asks apprehensively, and I smile to myself at her thoughtfulness.

  If only she knew, I can’t allow her to know the poisonous things that roam free in my mind. She rattles the door handle again.

  “Open the door, Brody.”

  I lean my damp forehead against the cool tiles next to the door and briefly close my eyes. I need to get away from here, I can’t do this with her now. I’m exhausted and I need some perspective. I swing the door open and her concerned gaze locks with mine. She reaches out to stroke my face, a frown settling on her beautiful face.

  “Jesus, you look awful, are you sure you’re ok?”

  I place my hand on top of hers and nod, absentmindedly smiling to try and pacify her.

  “I’m fine, look, I just need some air,” I say brusquely as I start to dress.

  I pull on some loose grey jogging bottoms, a black t-shirt and trainers. I run my hand through my hair and back away from her. I can’t have her anywhere near me right now, I’m too tightly wound. I shake my head, grabbing my keys and my phone.

  “Brody, just fucking talk to me! I thought we were finally getting somewhere?” she snaps, and I let out a laboured breath, feeling my chest tighten.

  “I can’t do this, I just can’t, not now. I need some air, I’m sorry,” I say wearily as I turn around and leave, slamming the door behind me to the sound of her softly cursing.

  I run down the stairs and out of the front door. I gently jog towards the gate and signal Jace in the control room to let me out. The gates start to swing open, and I salute my thanks, as I begin my nightly stroll. I have no particular destination in mind, as I continue my brisk walk, I just know I have to get as far away from her as I can get. I don’t want to infect her with the vile thoughts that invade my mind. I just can’t do that to her, not after everything she’s been through, she’s too precious for that. She’s damaged as it is, she doesn’t need me making it worse for her. She’s healing and taking it one day at a time and I’m so fucking proud of her for that. She’s battling on, despite the shit life’s thrown at her, we’re the same, we’re survivors. She’s a warrior and I’ve got so much fucking respect for her for just battling through. She’s so much stronger than she gives herself credit for.

  As I walk, the light rain, becomes heavier and the usual need to get high, causes my veins to buzz and my body to physically ache with need. The craving to just forget is at the forefront of my mind and it’s all I can fucking think about. I begin to walk faster, and my walk turns to a full-on jog. I jog with renewed purpose until I get that delicious soreness in my calf muscles and my mind becomes clearer. I’m aware of the ridiculously late hour and I feel awful for turning up here unannounced, but it’s the place I seem to gravitate towards when I’m feeling particularly out of control.

  I sniff and knock on the door tentatively, almost
instantly regretting it. I’m considering turning around and walking away, as I see a shadow in the frosted glass door. The door swings open and I’m greeted by Lenny’s looming figure in a burgundy dressing gown, black silk pyjama bottoms and his salt and pepper hair dishevelled. He reminds me of Hugh Hefner.

  “Fuck me, son.”

  Lenny’s gruff voice, thick with sleep oddly comforts me.

  “Len, who’s that, love? Do they not know what time it is?”

  I hear Nancy call out and I find myself smiling.

  “It’s just Brody, sweetheart, go back to bed,” he placates her, and he beckons me inside, closing the door behind me.

  I step inside, the heat and cosiness of the house, feels like home. This is what my home should have been like when I was a kid.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly as a wave of guilt washes over me for just showing up without calling ahead.

  A look of concern mars Lenny’s features.

  “Don’t be silly, I know there’s a good reason for you to turn up here so late, out with it.”

  I hang my head, following him into the kitchen.

  “I had the nightmare again, Len, when will it just fucking stop? It’s exhausting, I’m exhausted.”

  The kitchen is blue and white, the appliances match the style of the kitchen, including a blue kettle, a blue microwave, navy, and chrome built-in cooker, a blue Smeg fridge with various magnets of past holidays him and Nancy have been on, a few Polaroid pictures, including one of Lenny, Nancy, and Daryl, bringing back once happy memories of my friend. Blue tea, coffee, and sugar canisters neatly lined up on the blue marble worktop. Over the cooker are blue and white splash back tiles, and the floor consists of blue linoleum. Tucked away in the corner of the kitchen, is a round white table with four blue chairs around it.

  I stand awkwardly off to the side, suddenly feeling like I shouldn’t be here. Lenny breaks me from my dark reverie by throwing a towel in my direction. I catch it easily and begin to dry myself off from the downpour.

  “You want the truth, boy? It will eventually get easier, but it won’t stop. Not until you make peace with it, I know you feel responsible for it in some way. Surely you’ve got to know by now, you were just a kid, your mum made a choice, in my opinion, the wrong fucking one, but that’s probably just my fathering instinct kicking in. For all Daryl’s faults, he was our son, but he was responsible for his own destiny that night and there’s no one else to blame but himself. Just like you weren’t to blame for Imogen’s death.”

  He pours us both large glasses of Haig Club whiskey and gestures to the table. We both pull out chairs and sit down. I lean my head on my hand, suddenly feeling exhausted, both mentally and physically.

  “I’m so fucking tired of it all, Len,” I sigh as he takes a long slug of his whiskey.

  "Did I ever tell you about my time as a copper?"

  My eyes widen at his admission. What the fuck? After over fourteen years of knowing Lenny Nicholas, I thought I knew everything about him. He laughs throatily, taking another sip of his drink.

  "Don't look so shocked, son. I know what you're thinking, how could a corrupt, dodgy, old fucker like me, have ever been a man of the law?"

  I smirk. It’s like he read my mind!

  "Amongst other things, Len! How come you never told me any of this before?" I ask, curiosity getting the better of me as I take a sip of my whiskey and place the glass on the table.

  "Because I was a copper long before all the corruption. I was a copper when there was integrity in the job, when bringing people to justice meant something. I gave up that game a long fucking time ago."

  He looks into the distance thoughtfully and I cock my eyebrow.

  "I'm sensing there's more to it than just that. Don't hold out on me, old man!"

  I try to make a joke of it, but he doesn't smile.

  "I watched my partner get murdered, stabbed to death. The bloke who did it, he got away with it, insufficient evidence, total fucking bullshit, but I couldn't prove a fucking thing. Trevor Queen was the best man I knew, and we'd had each other's back since the first day of training at Hendon. But do you know the worse part about it? I couldn't fucking save him, that's what sent me into my downward spiral. I couldn't sleep at night; I'd wake up in a cold sweat. All I'd hear was Trev screaming, don't let me die, Len. I'll never forget that, for as long as I live." He runs his hand through his salt and pepper hair and his gravelly voice trembles. "Fucking hell, it's been years since I talked about this. You're killing me, son."

  He flashes me a watery smile and I tap his arm.

  "You've been there for me for over ten years, Len. It works both ways, you've listened to me whine so many times… Fuck me, what I'm trying to say is, I'm here for you. You're like a father to me, you're the best man I know. You're there when no one else is. Besides the boys, you're the only constant in my life."

  He places his hand on mine.

  "Don't go getting all sentimental on me, boy," he says wryly, and I smile softly.

  "It's ok to talk about it, I spent years bottling up my feelings and look where that fucking got me, a drug addiction and ten fucking years in and out of rehab. I'm every shrinks wet fucking dream, action packed with issues. But all those years, I wouldn't trade them for anything, Len. It bought me closer to you."

  He leans over and pulls me in for a hug.

  “Come here, you soppy fucker!” Lenny laughs gruffly.

  “You good though, B? You’re more than welcome to stay here, the spare beds always made up.”

  I smile at his thoughtfulness and shake my head.

  “I’m good, Len and thanks for the offer, but Raleigh’s staying over at my place.”

  He cocks his eyebrow.

  “It must be serious with this one, son. That’s what, two weeks she’s been at your place?” he asks curiously, and I smirk.

  “Stop fucking fishing! We’re just taking it slow, one day at a time and all that,” I say nonchalantly, and he nods.

  Lenny has an uncanny knack of seeing through my bullshit, which is both a good thing and a bad thing all at the same time.

  “Course, son, course!”

  He laughs gruffly and squeezes my shoulder. I look at the time on the clock above the fridge, two fifteen. Fuck, I didn’t realise it was that late.

  “Now, are you going to fuck off and leave this old dog to get his beauty sleep?” he jokes, and I laugh.

  “Yeah, I’m sorry for turning up so late,” I say apologetically, and he pulls me in for a hug.

  “Never apologise for needing an ear to bend, son.”

  I cling to him for dear life, I’d be lost without this man. He’s put me back together, and he’s been there when it’s felt like no one else has been. I owe him my life. I’ll be forever grateful to have him.

  “Tell Nance’ I’m sorry for turning up so late and give her a kiss from me.”

  Lenny nods and looks at me with concerned eyes.

  “Are you sure you don’t need the spare bed, B?”

  I know Lenny’s silently asking me if I’m going to score and I smile softly at his quiet concern.

  “I’m sure, I’m going home to my girl.”

  Lenny nods curtly, as we walk to the front door.

  “Call me if you need anything at all. It doesn’t matter what time it is; I’ll be there.”

  I slap his shoulder.

  “Thanks Len, I’ll call you, I promise. Night’.”

  I walk back down the street and the darkness spurs me on to pull my phone out of my pocket. I dial the number I seemingly need right now, and it rings five times before it connects. I’m well aware I’m taking a risk calling her at this late hour, but I have to see her. I need to see her, I’m incapable of staying away from her, even after our last encounter.

  "I know I have no right to ask you, but please, L, I need to see you."

  I'm hyper aware of the desperation in my voice, but she's my weakness. She makes me feel weak. I’ve had time to think, and I couldn’t
let it go, not after what happened a few weeks ago. The overwhelming silence on the other end of the phone, convinces me that she's hung up on me.

  "Lorna, are you there?"

  I hear a soft sniffle.

  "Yeah, I'm here," she says quietly.

  She's fucking crying because of you, you fucking absolute arsehole.

  "Please don't cry, look, I need to see you. I can’t stop thinking about what happened between us, we need to talk."