Hope's Redemption (Redemption Road Book 2), page 12
I shot up to stand and folded my arms across my chest. “Dealings? You mean a meth lab and a dead body?”
I’d hand it to him. He had an amazing poker face. “Yes.”
“Then he probably is involved in planting the drugs in Tobias’ shop.”
“Maybe.”
“What do you mean, maybe? Isn’t it obvious?”
He crossed his arms. “Speculation and even gut instinct are far from provable in a court of law. You know that, Hope.”
I turned and paced a few steps. “Jesus, Mateo!”
He eyed me for a long moment. “I know you care about him. I promise—”
“This has nothing to do with that,” I interrupted, my feet halting midstep. “This is about what’s right.”
He held up a hand. “Fair enough. Still. I have to do what’s right, too, and that will be based on evidence. And right now, evidence was found in Tobias’ shop and Barnes is pointing the finger at him.”
“So discredit him,” I shot back. “Prove that Barnes has ties to the uncle. That should be a start. Pair it with the forged signature and I think you have a case.” Hell, Brandon’s drug involvement was becoming less and less relevant.
He lifted a brow. “Doing my job for me now?”
I lifted mine right back. “Do I have to?”
We stared each other down for a long moment. “I’ve got this, Hope. Let me handle the police work. You take care of your client.”
I blinked at him, praying for his sake he did not mean that like it sounded.
He didn’t flinch.
“Fine,” I bit out, grabbing the papers we’d just been looking over. “I hope these were my copies?” I said as I slid them into my bag.
He huffed out a laugh. “You must be one hell of a lawyer.”
“Well, go be one hell of a cop and we’ll get along just fine.” I moved to go just as his phone rang.
He held up a finger so I would hold on while he grabbed the line.
My gaze tracked over the photos of him and my sister again, over the open files on his desk, spying the evidence photos of the drugs and cash found in Tobias’ shop. I glanced over the pile of other files he had, wondering how in the world he kept any organization like this, before a couple of other file names caught my eye.
LeVeaux.
Darden.
Autopsy reports.
Something in my gut triggered as my sixth sense told me there was much more to all of this than met the eye, but I quickly looked up as Mateo ended the call.
He stood and we made our way to the door. “I promise you, I will look into everything we talked about today,” he said.
“You do that.”
“And you call me if you find out anything else.” He held out his hand and I took it, nodding to acknowledge the request before getting the hell out of there and getting back to work.
The rest of my day almost got away from me as I got lost in research. I made a pit stop at Redemption’s tiny local library and dug up all the public records I could on the past three police chiefs, grabbed a quick lunch, then hunkered down at Grace’s place with my laptop to add to my case notes. I honestly wasn’t sure why Mateo would have those files on his desk, mixed with ours, or if that was just a coincidence, but at this point, I put nothing past this shady town.
When I finally came up for air a few hours later, I wasn’t sure how much headway I’d made. Yes, LeVeaux had been murdered and Bollinger was in prison. But Chief Darden had apparently died of a heart attack in his home. I could find no record of an autopsy anywhere.
Then why did I see one sitting on Mateo’s desk?
What, if anything, did any of this have to do with Tobias, and could it help me get him out from under his charges?
Speaking of Tobias . . . I glanced at the time.
“Shit!” I only had an hour until I was supposed to be at his house.
Without my panties. To meet Henry.
I debated calling to cancel, but I’d never been one to back down from a dare. If it turned out to be something too skeevy, I’d figure it out. I’d certainly done worse in my life.
I grabbed a quick shower, then threw on a short summer dress and sandals, no bra or panties—he could thank me later—and headed out sans makeup.
I arrived with five minutes to spare, somewhat relieved to find only Tobias’ car in the driveway. Whoever this Henry was, he must not have arrived yet. Still, a little tingle triggered in my belly as I made my way up to the door and knocked.
That tingle grew to a full-blown shockwave when the door swung open, revealing a bare-chested Tobias in low-riding workout shorts, the fine sheen of perspiration covering his pecs, and down his abs to that sexy V I loved.
“Sorry,” he said with a smirk as my eyes slowly drifted back up to his. “I lost track of time. I was just finishing up my workout.” He stepped back. “Come on in.”
I resisted my impulse to lick his perfectly shiny chest and that phoenix tattoo as I slid by him. “So, what—?” I squeaked in surprise as he spun me around and pushed me against the nearest wall, swallowing up my question with his mouth on mine.
His hot hand traveled up my thigh as his lips and tongue ravished me, his palm blazing a trail toward my ass. “Did you wear panties?” he whispered between brutal kisses.
I moaned as his fingers found me wet and needy. “Have I ever . . .” I gasped as one, then two fingers plunged deep. “Not followed through . . .” My breath caught as his thumb grazed my clit. “Oh, God . . . on a dare?”
He dropped his head to kiss my throat. “No.” He rewarded me with a deeper thrust and more pressure as he nipped at my neck.
I was trembling, on the brink, when he pulled back and brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly sucked them clean with a hum of appreciation.
“Jesus,” I murmured under my breath as I righted my dress, my eyes falling to his impressive erection.
“Give me a few minutes to grab a shower, then I’ll cook us dinner.” He winked when I only stared at him in shock, then gave me a little smack on the ass and strolled down the hall. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.”
I stood there for a full two minutes until I heard the shower crank on down the hall before I turned to take in his house.
Not huge, but neat. Very him with the dark furniture with pops of color and a couple of framed art pieces from unknown artists on the walls. Gigantic television and gaming console. Impressive music collection. I strolled into the kitchen only to falter.
I glanced down the hall. The water was still running.
Tentatively, I made my way toward the cabinet of shot glasses. He had several that he’d clearly collected over the years and from all over. But, somehow, I knew what I’d find even before I saw it.
And there it was.
In the top center spot of honor. A plain, simple, clear glass with no logo. Nothing to indicate it was anything special. Except it was. It was everything.
He’d remembered and he’d kept it all these years.
The glass we smuggled out of The Rogue the night we’d committed to each other. I’d even written it on a napkin and sealed it with a kiss, then he’d given me that hickey that earned me a spot on my knees in the rain all night when I got home.
With a trembling hand, I got on my tiptoes and reached for the glass, wondering if the emotion would somehow be infused in its curves if I touched it. I wrapped my hand around it and lifted it from its spot only to see that it was sitting on something . . .
“Oh my . . . Tobias . . .”
My heart began to thump a slow painfully emotional beat in my chest as I spied ‘H + T 4Ever.’
In an automatic reaction, I curled the glass to my chest and reached for the napkin, not sure what to do with all the everything filling my heart. This was too much. Tobias was too much. We were too much. “I can’t believe you kept this,” I whispered.
“Of course I kept it.” His voice came softly behind me as I realized I’d missed the shower cutting off and his clean scent filling the room. I slowly turned to meet his assessing gaze. “It was the only way I could hold on to you.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Tobias
I never meant to tell her that, and I was pretty sure it was a mistake by the expression on her face. Hell, I’d barely acknowledged it to myself all these years. Still, something about being with her again after all this time, touching her, kissing her, being inside her body again . . . it was doing things to me that I had zero control over.
“Tobias . . .” She shook her head slowly, as if words failed her.
I shook it off. “Don’t. Let’s not go there.”
She frowned at me.
“What’s the point?” I walked over and gently pried the shot glass from her hand and put it back where it belonged. “We have a past. We both know it. No point rehashing it.” I faced her and she handed over the napkin, which I put away, too. “We’re here. Now. It’s a new day.” I turned around and brushed the hair from her shoulder. “Right?”
She didn’t seem convinced. “I guess.”
“You guess?” I let my hand drift down to the curve of her lower back. “What’s to guess about? What could we possibly do to change the past, even if we wanted to?”
Her brows dipped. “You wouldn’t want to? Change the past?”
“Hell, I don’t know.” I stepped back and raked a hand over my head, eying her closely. “In some ways, yeah, but as painful as it was, our past is what’s made us who we are. I don’t have to like it, but I can accept that.”
She sighed and blinked away.
“Why?” I asked. “Would you change things if you could?”
Her gaze slid back to mine, full of emotion and vulnerability and strength—a volatile mix of the old Hope I used to know and the new Hope I was just coming to learn. “I’m not sure.”
That was the most honest answer I’d ever heard her give, but I knew it was rooted in regret.
I shook my head. “That’s bullshit, Hope.” She gaped at me, but I pressed on. “That’s just regret talking. You wouldn’t change a thing, and we both know it.”
“Excuse—”
“Just hear me out,” I said quietly, taking her hand. “Your life here was awful. You had to get away from that.” I tilted my head. “Yes, you could have stayed here, married me, and I would have done my damnedest to take care of you. But you were made for more.” I held our arms wide. “Look at you! You made it, babe. You’re smart as hell; you’re a goddamn lawyer, and you earned every bit of your success. On your own. And I’m proud of you for that, Hope. I’m only sorry I couldn’t give you what you deserved back then and saved you from the heartache you went through. I’m sorrier than you’ll ever know.”
“You have nothing to be sorry about,” she said as tears filled her dark eyes. “You were literally the only bright spot in my miserable fucking existence back then.” She wrapped her arms around my waist. “As much as I loved my sisters and my mom, it wasn’t the same. They were trapped in the terror of that house too, so in some ways, with them, I was never free.” Her gaze dropped to my collarbone as her fingers played over my skin. “But with you . . . with you, I was free. Happy.” She looked back up at me. “I could be myself with no apologies, and I don’t know that I ever really thanked you for that, Tobias.”
I slid my fingers through her hair. “You don’t have to thank me. You were the same for me.”
She dropped her forehead to my chest and heaved a breath. “This is so messed up.”
“Yeah, well . . .” I pressed a kiss to her head. “It’s us.”
She rolled her head back and forth as if denying the fact and squeezed me tighter.
“You hungry?” I asked.
She lifted her head, and we had a whole silent conversation for several beats, where we made an unspoken agreement to let the emotional stuff go for now. “I could eat,” she finally said.
“Okay.” I leaned down and kissed her, then drew back to head to the fridge. “I don’t have a ton here. I’m going to the store in the morning before I go get Adam, but I have stuff for quesadillas if that’ll work?”
“Sure.” She sidled over to lean on the counter next to me while I prepped dinner. “Adam’s coming home tomorrow?”
A surge of pride filled my chest. “Yeah. Gets released early afternoon.”
“That’s awesome. I bet you’re excited.” She snagged a piece of cheese. “Is he nervous?”
“He hasn’t said, but I’d imagine a little bit.” I handed her the container of salsa and grabbed the bag of chips so she could snack. “Things have changed a lot since he’s been locked up.”
“Not everything,” she murmured before crunching down on a chip.
I glanced over, reading her mind. “Yeah. Faith. I think he’s probably worried about that.”
“Why?”
I plugged in the quesadilla maker to heat and began to assemble precooked chicken, cheese, and tortilla. “Well . . . did you know she’s been writing to him in prison all this time?”
“Yeah, Grace told me.” She moved to the fridge and grabbed us both a water. “And he returned them all. He never wrote her back?”
I shook my head as I closed the lid and listened to the sizzle. “Nope.”
“That’s kinda chickenshit, don’t you think?” she said. “I mean, they were friends. Good friends.”
I opened the lid and slid the food onto two plates, and we moved to the dining room table.
“He said something about not being good for her or whatever,” I said. “Personally, I think he’s an idiot. He needs to quit thinking with his dick.”
Hope nearly choked on her first bite, laughing.
“What?”
She kept giggling.
I held up a hand. “Like you said, they were friends. But if she’d ever given him the slightest chance, he’d have boned her behind the church in a heartbeat.”
She laughed again. “Popular spot.”
“Well, we were nothing if not trendy.”
“So, he really liked her, huh? Interesting,” she said around another bite.
“Because?”
“Pretty sure Saint Faith might have thrown a little caution to the wind if she’d known that,” Hope said. At my raised eyebrow, she shrugged. “Just saying.”
“Well, this ought to be entertaining.”
When we were done, we drifted to the living room sofa, and her feet ended up in my lap while we talked about our days. I told her about the couple of tattoos I’d done and the terrible jokes CJ had told over lunch, as well as the last-minute prep I’d done for Adam’s homecoming. She told me about her visit to Mateo’s office.
“Hold up,” I said. “You just took the copies from his desk and told him to go do his job?”
“Something like that.” She hummed in contentment as my palm rubbed along her calf.
I stared at her in renewed appreciation. The woman was a true badass.
“I still have more research to do on the old chiefs,” she continued. “I’m not sure if the autopsy files he had on his desk had anything to do with your case, but I’ll figure it out.”
I frowned. “Hope. Be careful. Don’t get into trouble on my account.”
Her eyes shot open. “I’m just doing my job.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
My hand drifted further up her leg to her thigh, brushing under her short dress. “You sure you’re not going just a bit beyond the call of duty on this one?”
She sucked in a breath as my fingertips found her hips and traced downward. “Not at all.”
I shoved her dress up to expose her to my gaze. “I don’t believe you, Counselor.” I moved to kiss her pussy, but she put a hand to my head.
“Wait. Where’s Henry?”
I burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny? You said—”
I gently bit the inside of her thigh and rose to my knees between her legs and reached for her hand. She took it and sat up. I shifted to point her attention toward the table next to the stereo system. “Hope McMasters, meet my buddy, Henry the Seventh. Henry, this is Hope.”
Her confused gaze flew around the room before finally settling on the bright-blue betta fish swishing around in his bowl. She looked back at me. “That’s Henry?”
“Yes.”
“A fish?”
“Yes.” I laughed. “Don’t knock him. He’s special to me. Him and the six before him, God rest their souls.”
She rose to go investigate. “You name all your fish Henry and just number them?”
I shrugged. “It works.”
She leaned down. “He’s pretty.”
“Boys aren’t pretty.”
She glanced back, her gaze raking over me. “They most certainly are.”
I narrowed my eyes at her, but she just turned back to Henry.
“You know what this means, right? The next one will be Henry the Eighth. How cool is that?”
“I thought I might commemorate the event with a second betta and name her Anne Boleyn.”
This made her laugh. “How morbid.”
I shrugged. “I’d put her in her own bowl. I wouldn’t let him kill her.”
She turned to face me, a gentle smile on her face. “Well. In that case . . .” She sauntered back over and straddled my lap, her fingers playing over my shoulders and arms. “I have to say, I’m really glad Henry is a fish and not another guy. I’m all for dares, but I was worried about that one.”
I cupped her hips and ground her down so her softness melted into my hardness. “I don’t share well. You know that, Hope.”
“Mmmm . . .” She rolled her hips against my cock again. “Thank God.”
We made love well into the night, and in between found ourselves talking about everything and nothing. It felt like the old us, yet like something so much more . . . like something dangerously new and precious.
We dozed off wrapped up in each other and tangled in my sheets.
I roused when I felt her pull away and roll to sit up. I cracked open my eyes and figured by the light in the room it was just before dawn. “Where are you going?”
