Hope's Redemption (Redemption Road Book 2), page 1
HOPE’S REDEMPTION
Savvi V
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Be a Vixen
To all of the survivors out there.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Dedication
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
Epilogue
Books by Savvi V
Copyright Page
CHAPTER ONE
Hope
So many stars.
I stared up through the overhead skylight, letting the night sky absorb me. It was clear, and the blanket of stars was mesmerizing. Mama used to tell me to focus on them when things were bad.
See those stars, girl? They’ve been survivin’ for millions of years.
You can, too.
Go get lost in them when you have trouble, Hope, because nothing can hurt you out there.
I could never get lost enough. Trouble lived inside of me from the day I was born.
Still . . . I always tried. That, and the memory of her vanilla and honey scent wrapped up in her warm hugs was all I had left of her. Mama loved me and my sisters fiercely, and died for it. I knew that as sure as I breathed. Her heart attack my senior year of high school wasn’t random. It was brought on by stress and fear and constant worry, and all that heartache finally broke her. Weakened everything inside her.
I blinked hard, choosing not to think about her weakness. It didn’t serve a purpose anymore. I forced my attention back to Orion’s Belt instead. The same three stars glared down at me here in Georgia as anywhere else. Same view here, staring up from someone else’s bed, as what I’d see from my condo’s patio. The same stars everywhere. Like they were watching me. Or mocking me.
I scoffed.
That was probably the case.
I rubbed my thumb over the small tattoo on the inside of my left wrist. Even that hadn’t taken me far enough away.
A warm hand snaked over my belly, sliding up to cup my breast. Fingers rolled my nipple, and the warm body next to me vibrated with a low growl as he pushed closer.
I covered his hand with mine and squeezed it, lifting as I pushed the covers off and slid my feet to the floor.
“Where you goin?”
“Go back to sleep,” I whispered.
“Hope.”
Damn, his voice was clearing of grogginess, and he had a freakishly tuned bullshit detector. I’d hoped to avoid this.
“I have to go, Evan,” I said. “I’ll—call you later.”
He pushed up on his elbow. “To the office? What time is it?”
I pulled on last night’s discarded pencil skirt. “Early. I have to run home and then go by the office to grab a few things . . .”
“For what?”
I sighed, hooking my bra. I glanced around the dark bedroom for my silk tank that was surely wadded in a corner somewhere. “I have a flight to catch in a few hours.”
“What?” He sat up. “To go where? We have the new client from Boston coming in for a consultation today. An actual paying client. Hope—”
“You and Richard can handle that,” I said breathlessly, finding my top and shaking it out before sliding it over my head. “I’ll be working on and off. I have scans of all the files with me, and I’m a phone call away. Sarah can help with any mediations for the next couple of weeks.” I cringed inwardly at that last word, readying myself.
“Weeks?” A naked Evan was out of his bed in seconds, grabbing a pair of sweatpants. “What the hell? Where are you going?”
I sat down and slid my feet into my oldest, yet beloved pair of navy Pradas. “I gotta take care of some things. I’ll be back when I can.”
That sounded so benign. So unaffected and unrattled by what was to come. Nothing to give away the giant monster squeezing my insides.
“When you can?” he scoffed. “Hope.”
“Evan.”
“You didn’t say anything about leaving.”
Standing, I faced him. “I don’t need your permission.”
His eyebrows shot up. “My permission? I thought we were—”
“We are this right here, Evan.” I made a circular motion with my forefinger, including us and his bed. “Don’t read more into it.”
“Seriously?”
There was no reason not to tell him the basic truth. I could still hear my sisters’ voices over the phone. Faith telling me to get my ass home. Grace babbling shit about closure. Both of them hammering the do the right thing when your father is dying mantra so hard that I could feel the strikes. I couldn’t avoid it any longer; he’d been transferred to hospice, so time was ticking, and I had to go home and help them. And there was no reason not to tell Evan any of that, except that I never would.
That was personal, and no one here knew me that way. Not anymore.
Regardless, I couldn’t have the face-off with him. My mind was already four steps ahead. Home to shower and dress. Grab the bag already waiting on the couch. Swing by the office to knock out a few emails and pack up my laptop. Drive to the airport and drink something strong for lunch.
I raked my thick dark waves back with my fingers and slid my sunglasses on top to hold it back. “I don’t know how long I’ll be gone exactly, but I got the blessing to clear at least three weeks of my calendar.”
“Three weeks.”
“Possibly more.” God, I hoped not.
Evan shook his head. “You know what? Lose my address when you get back.” He turned and scrubbed his fingers through his still-gelled-in-place hair. “I don’t have time for your games.”
“Cool, no problem.” I headed for the door.
“Go to hell, Hope.”
I chuckled, but there was no humor in it. “I’m on my way.”
A long wait in security, two highballs, and a two-hour layover later, I was back. Back in the place I swore would never see me again.
It was late afternoon, and the sticky New Orleans air wrapped around me like a blanket, invading every one of my senses. It was heavy like Atlanta was before a rain, but here was different. The smell. Thicker, earthier, spicier. More oppressive, squeezing at me like it recognized that its child was back inside the nest. I cranked up the rental car’s AC, dragging in a few deep breaths of the cold blast.
“Don’t get too cocky, Louisiana,” I muttered. “I won’t be here long.”
All I had to do tonight was meet Grace and Faith at the hospice facility, catch up on the particulars, then go to Grace’s house. Tomorrow was another day, and I had no doubt that my sisters already had the details sorted out for me, but tonight would be simple.
So why were my palms sweating harder with every mile that brought me closer?
The drive between sleepy, swampy Redemption and the party bustle of New Orleans used to feel like forever when I was young and sneaking out with my boyfriend on Saturdays to go do all the decadent things we could dream up in the dark and sexy French Quarter. We’d take his grandfather’s old Chevy Bel Air and burn up the road. Flash our cheap fake IDs and slip into the sketchiest bars, marveling at the levels of debauchery. Our favorite was The Rogue, a dark, loud jazz club with dollar drafts and lazy bouncers that looked the other way.
Everything I now knew about life, I learned in that place. About people. About love and life and boundaries—or lack thereof. Nothing was off-limits in there. We’d people-watch and make out and plan our futures in the dingy, smoky corners, and I fell madly in love for the first time there—for the only time. I lost my virginity in the back seat of that old Chevy, but I can say, without hesitation, that I lost my heart in The Rogue.
To this day, jazz music still stabs me in the heart.
And tonight’s two-hour drive to Redemption felt like five minutes.
My chest tightened when the pristine white sign appeared around the bend in the road, thick Magnolia trees opening their branches for it like it was Jesus himself.
Welcome to Redemption, Louisiana. Home of Redemption Road Church.
I was surprised that Home of the great Reverend Noel McMasters, snake charmer of the swamps had never been added. I had no doubt he’d thought about it. Well . . . minus the charmer bit.
Sweat broke out at my hairline just as the clouds opened up overhead and rain exploded against the windshield. A thunderstorm. Fantastic. Just the memory I needed for this demented reunion. For a split second, my foot paused, ready to brake and turn around, head anywhere but over that line, like I’d done over a decade ago.
Then my car broke the barrier, and it was too late. I was in. I felt it like a giant hand pushing me down. I hit the wipers on and took a deep breath, blowing it out slowly as I flexed my fingers on the wheel and willed my foot to stay on the gas even as the painful memories flooded back faster than the rain . . .
The thunder booms overhead, covering the sound of the door closing behind me as I sneak through the back. It’s after midnight. Everyone should be fast asleep. Grace said she’d cover for me.
I place a hand on my throat, over the hickey that Tobias left. Damn it, I told him not to, but even as the thought flickers by, I feel the sweet throb from our lovemaking between my thighs. God, I love him so much. I can’t wait to leave this house and hideous town and start a new life with him. Far from the—
“Where have you been?”
I freeze at the slow, hate-drenched inflection on each word from my father’s mouth. The coldness of his tone mixes with the dread that washes over me.
The dim light over the kitchen sink flips on and there he is, in his robe, glaring at me like the Grim Reaper in plaid.
I don’t bother saying anything. There is no point. I’ve always held my father’s contempt and wrath. Tonight will be no different.
“Come here, Hope.”
I dart a glance toward my mother, sitting submissively at the table, proving he has the power here. I swallow and take a step forward, knowing I look like a drowned rat with a bright, glowing mark on my neck that might as well be a scarlet letter.
His beady eyes slide to my throat and down my body where my soaked clothes cling to me. “Whore,” he hisses, his gaze burning back into mine. “Cavorting with that Bishop trash again. Giving yourself away like the harlot that you are.”
“I—”
“Did I ask for your excuses?” he bellows, his face mottling an angry red as he inches forward.
My trembling isn’t from the cold anymore. It’s fear. It’s hate. It’s repulsion for a man who has never loved me and a mother who will never love me enough to protect me.
“You are the abomination I knew you’d be,” he says, his words dripping in awe, like a prophecy has just been fulfilled. “A thorn in my side from the Lord. Punishment for . . . I don’t know.” He looks upward like he expects an answer. “I’m not sure why I wasn’t given the boy I was promised. If I had been, he surely would not have been such a perpetual disappointment.”
“Noel,” my mother cries out, tears filling her eyes.
He ignores her, his hate-filled glare zeroed in on me alone.
“So . . . you like being out in the rain so much, Miss Independent?” He shrugs. “You can spend the rest of the night in it.”
I open my mouth to argue, but he lifts a hand in final judgment, pointing toward the door as the familiar sound reaches my ears. The whoosh of a belt I knew too well being yanked from his trousers.
“On your knees.”
I sucked in a breath.
“Fuck.” My breaths were jerky as I shook away the memory, and I swiped at the hot tears that stung my cheeks. “Haven’t been here ten minutes and the asshole has me crying.”
I pictured my father lying in a hospital bed, weak, frustrated, and unable to speak clearly, and new tears burned behind my eyes. Tears of satisfaction.
“You can’t hurt anyone from there, you sorry son of a bitch.”
I upped the wiper speed on the Honda, raising an eyebrow at the appearance of traffic lights at Savior and Main. How progressive. The colors swam before me in a sea of shimmering rain, going from green to yellow. I could make it, even at the crawl I was doing.
I rolled my head on my shoulders, rubbing at my neck. I had to let all that old shit go for now. Closure, my ass—I wasn’t here for him. I was here for Faith and Grace. To do the right thing. Help with arrangements and be a good sister, keep my head down and do my duty, then get the hell out of Redemption before the stink and the pain of it could seep into my blood and break me again—
Slam!
“Oh, shit!”
The crunch of metal against metal rammed me forward, then back into my seat. I tried to slam on the brake and my foot slipped off.
My rental shimmied as if I’d hit a brick wall.
“Damn it!” I pounded the wheel and put the car in park. As if it was actually going somewhere. “Damn it, damn it!”
The car in front of me was bigger and solid from what I could tell through the seconds of clarity between wiper swipes. The driver, shoving his door open in anger, looked big, too. I saw tattoos and groaned.
I ran a hand over my face. “Fuck me,” I whispered. “This is why I needed to keep my ass in Georgia.” I blew out a breath and flexed my fingers, grabbing my wallet so I could get out and do this face-to-face. In the fucking rain. No way was I going to let this big asshole come mansplain to me what I’d done wrong. I’d meet him in the middle, apologize, and take control of the situation, like I did every day in my world.
I pushed open my door and cursed not having an umbrella just as one of my heels caught in a hole in the pavement, breaking off the tip. I slammed the door shut behind me.
This day was just getting better and better.
The next two steps, however, made me forget everything before. The heel, the accident, the rain. The long day of flying. Even, for a few long seconds, the entire reason I was there.
Deep blue eyes burned into me, ready to rip me a new one, before the big guy behind them froze in the pouring rain.
“Tobias?” I croaked, my hand falling to my side as I took him in.
He was different. So different. And yet—oh my God, I’d know him anywhere. Because in all the years since I’d hitched that ride out of Redemption with nothing but a backpack, the crushing memory of the brokenhearted expression on his face had never left me.
Tobias Bishop had been my saving grace. My sanity in a crazy, messed-up existence. My heart and soul and the love of my life. At seventeen.
Yeah, yeah, who claims their soulmate at seventeen?
I would have in two blinks . . . if he would have come with me.
Oh, fucking hell.
I swallowed down the bitter pain that burned up my throat, wanting to strangle me again. The old heartbreak. The guilt. The betrayal. Maybe I was having a weak moment because I’d held on to the feeling of betrayal the hardest for years. Let it get me through being homeless and broken on the streets of Atlanta. Through the nights of sleeping in shelters or in my cardboard cubby behind a mall food court, crying for the boy I’d left behind.
Now that boy stood in front of me as a man—big and angry and tatted up, rain sluicing over him in rivers. His clothes stuck to him, highlighting how strong he’d become. His wet hair looked a little long, and scruff caught the droplets on his jaw. His full lips were the same. Oh, God, they were the same. Memories flashed with the lightning, flickering sight and smell and touch, his hands on my body, that mouth kissing me into oblivion. Bringing me to heights of intensity I’d never know again.
“Hope.”
The voice I used to hear in my dreams vibrated through me, and I clenched my hands into fists to feel my nails press into my palms. To get control.
His face was devoid of emotion. Not even the slightest bit flustered. That told me enough.
Keep it business. Don’t go down the rabbit hole.
“Okay then, I’m—” I swallowed as my voice came out croaky. I held a hand over my eyes to shield them from the rain as it started going at an angle. “I’m sorry, I—the rain, I guess. I didn’t see you.” Shit, I was babbling.
You are a lawyer, damn it.
Go there.
“Let me give you my card,” I said, opening my wallet with shaking fingers. That was okay, though. It was better than looking him in the eyes. “I’m gonna be here for a bit, helping Grace and Faith. We can deal with the damages on a drier day, don’t you think? I mean mine is a—”
The word ‘rental’ stuck in my throat as my gaze caught on his vehicle. Big. Old. The Bel Air.
I’d hit the Bel Air.
“Oh my God, you still have it,” I whispered, my gaze flashing back to meet his, which was still hard and arctic.
“And you just smashed the fender,” he growled, folding his arms across his chest, showcasing full sleeves of tattoos as the rain plastered his t-shirt along his biceps and shoulders. “Lawyers exempt from red lights in Georgia?”
CHAPTER TWO
Tobias
I’d had a shittastic couple of days. One of my tattoo artists was a no-call, no-show last night, forcing me to reschedule all of his appointments, then the rain not only gave me a killer migraine, but it also killed my plans to visit my grandparents. Well, I still could, but it wasn’t exactly my idea of a fun time to hang out in a cemetery in the pouring rain. Apparently, Mother Nature did not give a flying fuck about the anniversary of my grandfather’s passing. Bitch. The now-limp double bouquets of lilies I’d picked up earlier from the Topsy Tulip were testament to her ruthlessness.
