Redeemed (Dirty Air Series Book 4) Read online

  Well, shit. This guy is an absolute asshole.

  “Who sent you?” he snaps.

  Who sent me? What does this guy think I am? A hitman?

  Something rustles as his silhouette moves into my direct eyesight. A gust of wind carries his scent. It’s crisp and mouth-watering, and I attempt to get another sniff.

  “I’m calling the police. They can deal with you like the others.” He lifts his phone to his ear. The light from the screen casts his sharp eyes in an ominous glow.

  I jolt from my stupor, rushing to stand on shaky legs. The last thing I need is a run-in with the cops. A memory of the last time I saw them causes me to shudder. I hold up my hands to show him they’re empty of any weapons. “Don’t! Please! I come in peace.” I come in peace? Who the hell do I think I am? E motherfucking T?

  He steps into my personal bubble. The shift in the clouds has the moon illuminating his face. Shadows dance along his sharp cheekbones, emphasizing his rough edges and plump lips. His strong jaw covered in stubble ticks, and his dark eyes narrow at my face. They have a wild look to them, scanning me in the same way. Thick, dark hair brushes the tops of his shoulders, shifting from the gust of wind.

  Damn, the stranger has a rugged look I need to stop and appreciate for a second. I itch to reach out and touch his short beard, but I refrain.

  “Are you done gawking?” He scowls.

  His snappiness shocks me, pulling me out of my inappropriate thoughts. Great. Lusting after an unhinged man who wants to call the police on you. We have stooped to new levels of low, Chloe.

  “No. Yes. Kind of?” I squeak out.

  His jaw clenches. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t press the button right now and have them dispose of you.”

  Holy shit. Dispose of me? The unfairly beautiful man holds the phone to his ear as he steps closer. Everything about him screams intimidation, from his height to the snarl in his voice.

  My brain kicks into fight-or-flight mode. Flight is what I’m comfortable with. Flight is all I’ve known. Flight is what’s going to save me from being sent back to Brooke in tiny, cut-up pieces.

  “Because…” I dart to the left, but he catches me in his strong arms. Very strong based on the way they tense as I try to escape him. And oh do I try. I thrash. I kick. I knock my head back, only to be met with air as he evades the hit. I even pinch his arms with everything my small fingers can muster, hoping he lets go. He doesn’t even flinch. It’s as if he’s made of stone to match his personality.

  Chloe. Think. You’re one move away from ending up on the evening news.

  He turns me into his chest and locks my arms behind my back. “Oh no, you don’t. I’m sick of people like you trying to get a story.”

  “A story?! What are you even talking about?!” My scream turns into a rasp as his arms tighten around me.

  Is it stupid to hope that Matteo hears a woman yelling bloody murder and saves me from the clutches of a maniac? This man is absolutely paranoid. It’s the only explanation for his erratic behavior and his insistence on me being someone I’m most definitely not. I don’t know what kind of ghostbusters come creeping onto his property, but I’m not one of them.

  His body stiffens as I attempt to wiggle out of his grasp. Something that shouldn’t be hard pokes into my stomach, and I go full-blown survival mode.

  Hell. Fucking. No. I kick the stranger in the leg, hoping to incapacitate him. Another scream erupts from my mouth as my toes smashes against something that felt like the human equivalent of a cement wall. “What the hell! You’ve got to be kidding me. What are you even made of? A fucking rock?!” My big toe throbs to the crazy beat of my heart.

  He grunts, but his grip remains tight. “More like who the fuck are you and what drugs are you on?”

  “Me on drugs? You’re the one who is on the worst trip of your life, asshole.” Instead of allowing any tears to fall because of the pain in my foot, I let instinct take over. I knee the fucker in the balls with all the strength my body can manage.

  He lets go with a string of curse words as he keels over.

  No use checking out the damage. I run toward the direction of the main road, not bothering to look back at the psychopath who tried to call the cops on me and got a boner from the entire situation. I’ve watched a decent amount of horror movies. The girls who look back always get murdered first.

  I don’t stop running until I’m at the entrance of my hotel. Sweat clings to my clothes as I take in large gulps of air. Leaning against the wall, I sift through my backpack for my phone. Brooke is probably freaking out after everything.

  My search comes up empty. Like a cold shower, realization dawns on me.

  Shit. Motherfucking shit. I forgot my phone by the tree after I fell.

  I thought my experience with psychopaths ended once I left America. New country, same craziness. Except instead of running away from legal issues, I’m heading straight toward them.

  But hey, breaking and entering is only considered a crime if I get caught.

  5

  Santiago

  If it weren’t for the ringing cell phone on my nightstand, I would’ve considered last night the weirdest dream I’ve had in a long time. A dream starring a dark-haired trespasser who kneed me hard enough in the balls to leave a lasting impression a day later.

  I’ve had a handful of people break in since I moved here a few years ago. Reporters and heartless paparazzi can’t resist sneaking in to get a peek at my reclusive life. They’re like sharks in bloody water, desperate for a taste.

  The trespasser’s phone rings again for the third time in half an hour. Someone must be desperate to get in contact with her. At first I thought it was a worried boyfriend, but Brooke is the only person texting and calling the mysterious woman. When I answered her call, Brooke screamed into the phone about how torture is still legal in 141 countries and I better pray she doesn’t find me in one of them. At least after that phone call, she stopped calling me.

  Hopefully, the woman returns for her phone and reveals her identity. I need her arrested and taken care of. Holding people like her accountable sends a proper message to everyone else who wants to attempt the same shit.

  The ringing stops before starting up again. A random Italian number flashes across the screen, piquing my curiosity.

  I answer. “Hello.”

  A raspy voice releases a stream of curses away from the phone before returning. “You.”

  Ah, we meet again. “It’s me.”

  “I see you stole my phone.”

  “You’re confusing the word stealing with saving.”

  A mumbled fuck you on her end makes me smile like an idiot.

  “You’re welcome,” I probe.

  “While I’m being so uncharacteristically grateful, thank you for scaring me with your erection yesterday. As charming as it felt against my stomach, it’s a hard pass for me.”

  “Blame the arousal on adrenaline from finding a criminal on my property.”

  She scoffs. “Right. Let’s get two things straight. First, I’m not a criminal. Being detained isn’t the same as being arrested. And two, if that’s what you feel like from adrenaline, I’m afraid of you in the bedroom. That was...”

  The ridiculousness of her comment has me laughing to the point of my lungs burning. “Are you seriously complimenting me right now?”

  “Does it win me the points I desperately need to get my phone back? Guys love it when you hype up their dick size.”

  My good mood is washed away with the reality of her goading me to get what she wants. Typical. “No. Finders, keepers.”

  “You’ve got to be joking.”

  “Not about this.”

  “Why do you need a phone with a sparkly case?”

  I place her on speaker and check out the clear case with glitter water and sequins inside. “It complements my eyes.”

  Her scoff sounds more like a laugh. “You’re being impossible.”

  “Better than being someone who�
��s already been arrested once. Ready to add a second stint to your record?” The unfiltered words leave my mouth in a rush.

  “Cool. I was actually detained, not arrested. And to be honest, I’d rather be someone who got wrongly accused of a crime than an asshole who needs to steal shit to feel like a man. I hope you like my shitty five-year-old iPhone. Bye.” She ends the call.

  Fuck. With my phone, I call the number back. Someone picks up the phone, asking what I would like to order from a random restaurant in town.

  Damn. She’s smart, not leaving a trail for me to follow. I smile, captivated by her ingenuity. Somehow, I came across someone who doesn’t bother fitting the status quo of my life lately.

  Instead of my usual moping, I grab my laptop and research how to hack someone’s cellphone. I hope to find out some information about my mysterious trespasser. Using someone’s detailed directions from a Reddit board, I attempt to unlock the phone. All I end up doing is forcing her phone to shut down after it takes a photo of me with the Face ID.

  My phone buzzes from an incoming call, interrupting my next Reddit hack. I grab it and answer. “Hey.”

  “So...don’t be mad,” my little sister coos into the phone like I’m a child.

  I grunt in disapproval. “What did you do?”

  “Well remember how I told you I wanted to visit you soon?”

  “No, you must’ve forgotten that tiny fun fact in all three times we have talked over the past two weeks.”

  “Well, I do call, but you don’t answer.”

  I wince at the hurt in her voice. It’s not like I try to ignore her calls, but some days I can’t force myself to move, let alone speak. My reasoning doesn’t ease the guilt growing in my gut.

  She lets out a nervous laugh. “Well, I miss you and want to visit. It’s been a month since I saw you last.”

  “That’s because you’re traveling with Noah while he races.” Try harder to be nice, you irritable idiot.

  She sighs. “You know he plans on retiring in a season or two.”

  “Great. He deserves it after all his success.” I try with everything in me to not sound bitter, but the words come out like that anyway. It’s not Noah’s fault. He worked his ass off, competing and winning against the youngest talent year after year. Unlike me.

  “You’re not being fair to yourself.”

  “Life isn’t fair. Just because we’ve protected you from that lesson doesn’t mean the rest of us survive unscathed.” Shit. My mouth keeps getting me in trouble today. Maya doesn’t deserve my bitterness, no matter how much life pains me at times. “Maya, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. You know I would take on anything to make sure you were okay.”

  She stays quiet for a few seconds before she sniffs.

  Fuck. Not the sniffles. My chest tightens at upsetting the one person who means the most to me. “I’m sorry. You didn’t deserve that.”

  “It’s okay. There are some lessons you can’t protect me from, no matter how much you want to.” Her voice cracks.

  Something rumbles on the other side of the phone, and Maya protests before her voice fades away.

  “If it isn’t the dickhead of the decade. How are you doing? Not that I should care after you upset Maya,” Noah snaps.

  My life has become so fucked up that I’ve come to appreciate his dickishness toward me. It reminds me of how I’m very much still a grown-ass man. Anything is better than my parents who treat me like I’m made out of porcelain or Maya who hides stories about Noah and Marko because she doesn’t want to upset me.

  “I would say good, but since I’m talking to you when you’re angry, I’ll go with regretful.”

  He huffs. “Good idea. If you’re going to be a grumpy asshole, save it for everyone but your sister right now. Think you can manage such a small request?”

  I grind my teeth. “Most definitely.”

  “Good. I’ll save you the shock from our surprise since I know how much you love them. We will be at your house in an hour. Don’t make this an issue. We need your help, so strap on your fakest smile and drop the grumpy asshole routine for your sister.” Noah hangs up, leaving me slack-jawed and staring at my phone.

  Shit.

  My nephew, Marko, squeals as I throw him in the air. His dark hair flies around his face with the rush of air.

  “Again! Again!” His blue eyes light up.

  I carry him like an airplane, noises and all. Spending time with Marko is like chugging a glass of liquid sunshine. The little four-year-old takes away the darkness, and I love him more because of it.

  “Look at that. The beast has a soft heart after all.” Noah smirks at me.

  I switch Marko to one hand to flip Noah off.

  Maya’s eyes widen. “No, Santiago! He copies everything.”

  Marko looks at me with a wide smile, showing his tiny teeth. He attempts to flip me off with his index finger.

  I chalk it up to coincidence. “You should protect him from your husband, then.”

  “It took some work but I’ve kiddie-proofed Noah’s mouth.” Maya smiles.

  “It’s forking hard, but I try my best for you.” Noah grins before placing a soft kiss on Maya’s head.

  I sit down on the couch and place Marko on my knee. My sweatpants hide my leg, but that doesn’t stop him from lifting the hem and checking out the matte metal.

  My body tenses. I try my best to cover up my leg when I’m around others. The visual reminder sours the mood, so unless I need to, I hide that nasty fucker. It’s taken years to perfect my walk and conceal any kind of limp.

  I’m not ashamed of my leg.

  I’m ashamed of my life.

  “Tio Santi is Iron Man.” He taps the leg, looking up at me with the cutest smile ever.

  The constricting feeling in my chest lessens at his innocence. See, liquid sunshine.

  Marko is the only one I’d ever let call me Iron Man. With my nephew, it’s as if I’m his hero, rather than the washed-up has-been the media makes me out to be. It feels good to be the hero in someone else’s story, even if it’s only for a few hours. And because of that, the little kid has me tied around his pinky finger.

  Maya plucks Marko’s hand away from my leg and lowers the fabric of my sweatpants. “Marko, what did I say about touching other people without asking?”

  He tucks his chin into his chest. “No touching.”

  Maya shoots me a wobbly smile. “I’m sorry. I told him not to call you Iron Man anymore, but he must have forgo—”

  “Let him do what he wants. And stop handling me with kid gloves, Maya. While I love that you care, I think raising one kid is enough for you, don’t you think? No need to baby me too,” I snap.

  Maya stiffens.

  Noah rises from the seat parallel to mine. “Outside. Now.”

  The lethality in his tone has my spine straightening. He doesn’t bother looking back to check if I follow him.

  Regret hits me instantly, and I face my sister. “I’m sorry about what I said. I need to control myself better.” I pull Marko off my lap and place his feet on the floor.

  Maya nods, looking away from me. She swipes at her face with the sleeve of her sweater.

  “Maya, don’t cry. I’m sorry.” I tug her into a hug.

  She pushes me off after a few seconds, still not looking me in the eyes. “It’s fine. I’m just hormonal. Go talk to Noah.”

  I deserve her brushing me off. My sister is the last one I want to make cry, but I can’t avoid the surge of anger exploding out of me every time I feel weak and babied. It’s not easy going from being the provider to someone everyone coddles. It makes me feel less than. And most importantly, it reminds me of everything I lost.

  I walk outside my house, finding Noah standing by the lake’s shore.

  “Hurry the fuck up! My patience is thinning,” Noah calls out and turns his back toward me.

  Noah’s anger makes me instantly regret losing my cool with Maya. No one messes with his wife. Not even me.

&nbs
p; “I’m coming, asshole.” I walk toward him with ease. After my excruciating journey through physical therapy, I can walk like a normal person. So normal, if I wasn’t wearing pants, people wouldn’t know I was missing a key component. It’s one of the reasons I choose to wear sweats in the scorching heat. I prefer pretending. It keeps the darkness away enough for me to function around my family.

  I stop by his side but remain quiet. His anger hits me like a wave as he focuses on the lake in front of us.

  “You act like that around Maya again and I’ll rip off one of your balls to match your leg.” He doesn’t bother looking my way.

  I wince. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap like that and make her cry.”

  His shoulders drop. It’s subtle, but the change in his demeanor sets me on alert. Noah isn’t one to look defeated.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He stays silent.

  “Why did you both decide to pop in unannounced? That’s not like you two.” The words tumble out of my mouth.

  “We’re having a hard time.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” I elbow him in the ribs, trying to lighten the mood. These two are crazy about each other. Noah dotes on Maya every chance he has, and she makes him happy in return. I can’t imagine them having marital issues.

  “No. Nothing like that.” Noah sighs. He looks over at me. His eyes cloud in a way I’ve never seen before on him.

  “What’s going on, man? You’re worrying me.” I stay rooted to the ground, staring wide-eyed as he covers up a sniffle with a grunt.

  “Maya and I…” He curses under his breath. “Maya and I need you to take care of Marko for a couple of weeks while I’m on summer break from the Championship.”

  Acid rolls in my stomach. “Why? You always spend summer break prepping for the back half of the season.”

  “Something more important came up. So, Maya and I need some time to connect and take a break from everything. Go off the grid.”

  “And you want me to take care of Marko? Why not my parents?”