Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4)

by Lauren Asher

  I’m done hiding from my past. It helped me become the person I am, gutter rat and all. Anne Carter underestimated her power over me. I’ll take her down with me, if it’s the last thing I do.

  I only hope I made the right decision. I’m gambling with someone who is unhinged on her best day, and downright immoral on her worst. But I can’t let someone like her control me—my thoughts, my wishes, my happiness. My experiences with her tainted my idea of others, their intentions, and my own future. I’ve pushed boyfriends away. I’ve barely made friends, let alone settled down into anything but two jobs I’ve barely tolerated. After spending time with Santiago, I understand I’ve been letting my life pass me by as well. It took watching someone else slip into their dark thoughts over and over again to slap me out of my own.

  I’ve been living scared, which isn’t really living at all. I’m done experiencing life on pause anymore. I want to challenge myself to be better. To be someone I’m proud of, whether it’s pursuing a degree or traveling around the world.

  All I know is it’s about damn time I focused on the people who matter, rather than the ones who don’t.

  I do my best to pretend I’m not rattled after the shocking call with my mom. Santiago looks at me a couple of times for a few seconds longer than I’d like, but he doesn’t ask me if anything is wrong.

  For the rest of the day, I throw myself into playing Santiago’s dutiful girlfriend. I support him as he answers questions with reporters and visits Bandini employees. Similar to me, it was as if a switch was flipped inside of him over the weekend. It’s the best sight, with him checking in on old friends, asking about their kids and their families. I love every second of it. In fact, phone call aside, I love this weekend way more than I should. I’m sad to see it come to an end.

  It isn’t until we both enter his mansion hours later that reality hits us. His hands linger on the handles of my luggage, with him not passing them over. They stand out like a sore thumb against his marble floors and luxurious wallpaper.

  I move to grab one from him. “Listen, I’ve been thinking—”

  He speaks at the same time. “You should move in with me—”

  My eyes threaten to pop out of their sockets. “What?!”

  “What if you lived here instead of paying for a place to stay?” His golden cheeks flush with color.

  Santiago Alatorre needs to stop surprising me because I’m pretty sure my heart has officially gone into cardiac arrest. Mayday. Someone needs to call the doctor because I’m not making it out of this weekend alive.

  31

  Santiago

  Listen. I get it. Everyone thinks I’m going crazy after this weekend, with me deciding to test Noah’s new steering wheel. Even Chloe looks at me now like I told her I’m an alien. I can’t begin to explain my reasoning behind inviting her to live with me. It’s crazy and unexpected, but it’s for my own selfish reasons. Do I want to help her out when she clearly shouldn’t be spending her savings on some shitty bed-and-breakfast? Of course. But I also can’t bear the silence anymore. This massive house is lonely, with my thoughts occupying all the square footage.

  After my bravery this weekend, I’m afraid to revert back to how life was before. Experiencing Chloe’s chaos is a hell of a lot more fun than stewing in my self-hatred. I’ve grown fond of her choice words and energetic presence. And most of all, I really like her. So, yeah, I’m a selfish fucker who benefits more from having her around than the other way around. Sue me. Life is unfair, and I’ll preach that lesson until the day I die.

  Chloe blinks at me, her brows drawing together. “You want me to move in with you?”

  I nod my head.

  “Okay, haha, very funny.” She takes a hesitant step toward the door like a scared animal.

  I tread carefully because I’m afraid to scare her out of the idea. “Listen. Why bother paying for a room at a hotel when I have plenty of space?”

  She stares at her sneakers. “I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because that’s crazy.”

  “Of course it is. But since when do you shy away from crazy?”

  “Since I ended up breaking into someone’s house and faking an entire life to a long list of kind people who don’t deserve to be lied to.”

  Whatever small ground I had to stand on is slipping out from underneath me. “Well, seeing as I have sixteen bedrooms here, it’s not a huge deal if you take up one of them. It’s free room and board.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Your head just grew a little larger.”

  “What do you say? We can be roommates.”

  “Roommates?” Her lips purse.

  Shit. This is going terrible. Everything I say sounds worse by the second. “The reason I’m offering you a place to stay is because you shouldn’t be living out of a hotel for the rest of the summer. Think about it. You could stay here, right next to your dad, which could lead to more encounters. And you did offer to help me with my car remodel...and that requires 24/7 on-call service.”

  God, that sounded about as desperate as I feel.

  “24/7, huh?” She smirks.

  “Out of everything I said, you pick that?”

  She laughs up to the ceiling. “This is the weirdest summer of my life. And you call me crazy! You’re asking me to move in with you and I barely know you.”

  I frown. “You know me.”

  “Not enough to move in with you. That’s not normal.”

  “Since when do you follow the status quo?”

  “Well…when you put it that way.” She snorts.

  Damn. After our weekend, I definitely can’t let her leave. The thought of being on my own here again is…stifling.

  “Is that a yes?” My voice sounds pathetic to my own ears, but I don’t care.

  “No.”

  My heart sinks. The thought of Chloe leaving me to my silent, empty mansion fills me with dread. I hate the idea more than I should, but I can’t help it. Being alone is like drowning in the middle of the ocean. No one can find me, let alone save me from myself.

  She rocks back on her sneakers. “But…”

  I cover my smile with my hand. “Yes?”

  “Maybe I’ll agree if you tell me the real reason you want me to move in with you.”

  I weigh the cost of telling her the truth. Not the flowery words I shared prior, but the real deal.

  I’m tempted to call her out on her bluff, but her clutching onto her luggage and rolling it toward her has me stopping myself.

  Shit. Will she really leave?

  “The past few days in the hotel have been incredible. I don’t want to go back to how things were.”

  “And how’s that?”

  “Lonely. Without you and Marko, the thought of being on my own again is awful. Absolutely unbearable. It’s like I had a gaping hole in my chest that only started being filled over the last few weeks.”

  Her bottom lip juts out. “Oh, Santiago.”

  I step up to her, grabbing the handle of her luggage and pushing it in the opposite direction. “And most of all, you make the bad days better. I want more of that. If you go, I’m afraid I’ll go back to the way things were.”

  She runs her hand down my chest before placing it against my rapidly beating heart. “I don’t want to be a crutch. You need to fight for yourself because you want to. Not because I’m here, for however long that is.”

  Something in my chest constricts over her leaving permanently. “I do want to fight for myself. That’s the point. And you’re not a crutch. You’re part of the foundation to help me get where I want to be.”

  “And that is?”

  “Accepting that, while I can never be the man I was, I can become a man you want to be with.” I brush my thumb across her bottom lip.

  Her eyes widen. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t know each other well enough.”

  “Give me a chance then. A real chance. No faking. No pretending. Ju
st us spending time together, learning about each other.”

  She tugs her bottom lip between her teeth. The silence sets me on edge, but I hold out, hoping she will give in.

  She lets out a tense breath. “Okay. But there is one house rule.”

  “Name it and it’s yours.”

  “No sex. Until you work on yourself—for real—I’m not sleeping with you. Bottom line.”

  Mierda. I nod my head, accepting my fate. If it’s a battle with myself that Chloe wants, then it’s a battle she’s bound to get.

  Except I refuse to be a loser this time.

  “Please tell me why the fuck some woman called my assistant asking for your number, Santiago.” Noah skips the pleasantries, jumping straight into the reason behind his random call.

  “Who?”

  “Anne Carter called asking to get in contact with you. You know, Chloe’s mother?”

  Now I have a full name to the horrendous stories Chloe shared about her mother. Edginess creeps up my spine at the deranged woman attempting to infiltrate my inner circle. That stops now. Chloe’s spent her entire life escaping the grasps of her mother, and I’ll be damned if she haunts her in Europe, too.

  “What did she want?” I snarl.

  “Beats me. She left a slurred voicemail about needing to speak to you because she can’t get in contact with Chloe. I feel the need to warn you...”

  Fuck! This is all my fault. I’m the one that pushed Chloe into the spotlight, and now her mother found out.

  “Did she leave a callback number?”

  “Why don’t you ask your girlfriend?”

  “Seeing as she has a restraining order against her mom’s boyfriend, is that really the best idea?”

  Noah huffs. “No.”

  “Then give me her number.”

  Noah rattles off the number Chloe’s mom left his assistant. A part of me wants to tell Chloe about her mother contacting Noah, but I’m struck with an intense urge to protect her. I don’t want to bring up old memories, especially if it’s my fault in the first place. Her mother wouldn’t bother with Chloe if it weren’t for me.

  Chloe didn’t ask for this kind of attention. Hell, she warned me against it in the first place. It’s my responsibility to fix whatever damage has been done and hope her mother crawls back into whatever pocket of hell she came from.

  I dial the number. It rings before going to voicemail. My second attempt is a success, with Anne’s rasp of a voice answering after the third ring. “Hello.”

  “This is Santiago Alatorre.”

  “Well, I didn’t think my message would actually make it back to you.” Her voice fails to match the soothing one Chloe has.

  “I’ll start this call with telling you to never call Noah Slade again. Hell, don’t contact anyone who has anything to do with me, Chloe included.”

  “That’s a big claim for someone who is hiding an even bigger secret.”

  “What secret?” Is she high right now?

  “The fact that you’re shacking up with someone who was arrested for aggravated assault charges.”

  Fuck. I nearly drop the phone before catching it. “Excuse me?”

  “Chloe attacked my poor boyfriend, Ralph, when she was in high school. Left him with a concussion, two broken ribs, and a chipped tooth according to the hospital report I have. Somehow her social worker convinced the cops to drop the charges, but it doesn’t matter. With your fame, I doubt it’s something you want associated with your name. Now is it?”

  What the fuck happened inside of Chloe’s house when she was growing up? I can barely focus on the vile words her mother shares as I try to picture living in fear like Chloe did. Being forced to spend time inside of a closet while her mother got high with men. Fending for herself against a disgusting man who tried to take advantage of someone smaller than him.

  The whole situation makes me sick. Disgusted to the point that I want Anne Carter to disappear forever.

  “How much?” I hate making deals with the scum of the earth, but to protect Chloe, I’ll do anything. Even if it means supporting a drug addict like her.

  “How much do you think Chloe’s secret is worth? I have a video of Ralph speaking out against the attack, and it’s not pretty.” Anne chuckles to herself.

  Acid rolls around in my stomach. How much does it cost to keep a drug addict quiet? Fuck if I know. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

  Anne laughs. The sound elicits the same chill as hearing nails running down a chalkboard. “You’ll have to do better than that. I googled you. Everyone knows how much you’re packing in that wallet. Do you really want to take a gamble on me revealing who your girlfriend is to the world? Something tells me the crowd you run with won’t be as accepting of someone like her.”

  My jaw clamps down. “If someone doesn’t accept her, then they were never part of my crowd to begin with.”

  “I see why she likes you.” She snickers.

  I clutch onto my phone with a death grip. “Three-hundred-thousand dollars. That’s my final offer.”

  “I knew you were willing to pay the right price. With all those fancy cars and houses, it’s barely a drop in the bucket.”

  “You’re repulsive.”

  “I never said I wasn’t. But I’m also an opportunist. The world is a harsh place, and my daughter happened to find the right kind of guy. I’m proud.”

  “This is the last time you’ll ask for any money.”

  “Don’t worry. That kind of money will keep me happy for a long time.” She sighs in a dreamy kind of way.

  “Let me be clear. I give you the money and you stay away from my family, including Chloe. That means you disappear from all of our lives. Period. While you have a lousy story and whatever half-assed evidence your drugged-out brain could muster up, I have endless connections to wipe you from the map if you mess with us again. So, if you ever crawl out of the gutter you came from to cause us problems again, I’ll have you shipped off to a facility where you’ll live the life you deserve. No drugs. No people. Nothing but sobriety and your nasty thoughts to keep you company. Got it?”

  “So testy. I see why my daughter is drawn to you.”

  My jaw clenches. “I want a real yes or no answer. Your offer is disappearing in three…tw—”

  “I promise not to contact you, your family, or Chloe.” She gives me a number to wire her money to, and I finish the deal without hesitating.

  Chloe told me she was done with that piece of trash, and I only helped her solve that problem faster.

  32

  Santiago

  Chloe’s only moved into my place as of two weeks ago and the energy is already shifting between us. The routine we have fallen into is easygoing, with both of us modeling domestic bliss. Our days with each other include cooking together and movie nights, with restoring the car in between.

  Whenever she leaves for work, I grow agitated. A discomfort builds inside of me in her absence and I become desperate to fill the time. Enough so, I spend the better part of my morning working out in the gym. But not even that is enough to satisfy the edge inside of me. I use it as an excuse to buy something stupid while Chloe is away at work.

  It takes two days for my latest purchase to arrive. The shipping company sets up my new system in an empty room on the first floor of my house, far away from anyone else.

  With hesitant steps, I walk toward the room, clutching onto the package Noah sent me after the Monza weekend. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the room. The F1 simulation system sits in front of massive monitors. My hands tremble as I walk up to the machine and rip off the brand-new plastic wrap.

  The pedals mock me and remind me of the way I used to race. I ignore the urge to run out of the room, instead choosing to remove the standard steering wheel and replace it with Noah’s custom-made one. Pieces click into place as the new wheel dominates the front of the machine.

  “If you don’t practice, you’ll never get back out there.” I hold on to the back of the leather chair and take a st
eady breath.

  I press the power button, and the machine whirs to life. Tension sizzles beneath my skin at practicing with the new wheel.

  This could be a disaster. A total and utter failure of epic proportions.

  But it could also be the best thing to happen to you in years. Imagine getting back out there.

  My dilemma is cut off by sneakers squeaking behind me.

  I turn to find Chloe gaping at the machine.

  She steps into the room. “Look at this setup! I can hear the nerds all over the world crying tears of joy.”

  “This isn’t for nerds,” I mumble under my breath.

  “Okay, sure. Whatever you say. But real talk: Can you play Mario Kart on it?”

  My jaw drops open. “Mario Kart?”

  She looks at the monitors with longing. “What I’d give to throw turtle shells and banana peels at other racers with this setup.”

  The ridiculousness of her idea has me throwing my head back and laughing. “I honestly don’t know if this newer machine is compatible with it.”

  “Then what is it for?”

  “F1 racing.”

  Her lips form an O. “Got it. Okay, well sorry to interrupt you. I’ll leave you to it then.” She walks backward before bumping into a wall.

  “Wait.”

  She halts.

  “Do you want to test it out? If I can download Mario Kart, that is?”

  Her eyes narrow. “Why do I have a feeling you’re trying to distract yourself so you don’t have to do whatever it is that you wanted to do in here?”

  I grin. “Because that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

  Her smile drops. “Then no thank you. I’ll pass.”

  The last thing I want is to be left alone in this room. “Okay, fine. How about we compete in a Mario Kart match? Whoever has the highest score wins whatever they want.”