Redeemed (The Dark Redemption Series Book 2) (12 page)

“No, my father sent someone to kill them. He’s the reason for everything bad that’s happened to all of us!”

“He’s dead.”

“What?” I gasp in surprise.

“The motherfucker who killed your mother is dead, and the bastard never saw it coming.”

“You…you killed my father?” I ask, not upset, just shocked that he was able to do that so soon.

“No,” he answers before taking a swig of his bottle. “I wish I had, but it was Nadia, his new wife. Now his widow.”

“Nadia? She’s the one who…”

“Hired me to kill you. Sent the man to kill my parents and me.”

“Is he dead?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“So, now we just need to kill her?”

“We?” he repeats.

“Yes. If we kill her, then we won’t have to hide anymore.”

“She thinks we’re both dead,” he says.

“Which means, she’ll never see us coming,” I reply, getting to my feet. “Brede, this is what you do, kill bad guys.”

“She’s a woman.”

“So? She’s a murderous bitch who needs to die.”

A hint of a smirk forms on his lips, but disappears a second later. Still, it was good to see a little bit of the old Brede. “I’ve missed you,” he says, the words nearly dropping me to my knees again.

A bubble of hope wells up inside me.

“I’ve missed you too, so much,” I tell him before climbing up on his lap. When he doesn’t push me away, I wrap my arms around his neck so I can bury my face in it. He smells like sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes, but I can’t get enough of his scent, taking another deep breath. I’ve been so worried about him.

“I don’t want anything to happen to you,” he says when he grabs a handful of my hair in his fist.

“Then don’t leave me again,” I tell him. “Aden’s fucking nuts.”

“He’s better for you than me.”

“No, he’s not. I don’t think he’s a federal agent or any type of law enforcement,” I confess, still clinging to Brede desperately.

“What?” Brede reels back and asks.

“I think he may believe he is, but the only person he talks to on his phone is a Dr. Allen from a 9-1-0 area code.”

“But he bugged Roger’s house and has a badge.”

“I think it’s a mental disorder. Like maybe he believes he’s an agent, but he’s sort of…unhinged. He, um, tried to have sex with me.”

Brede’s body stills and tenses underneath me.

“What do you mean?” he asks slowly.

“I told him to stop, and he wouldn’t. He held me down and tried to force himself, you know, where you’ve never been…” 

“Goddamn it! Like I don’t have enough to worry about without adding a batshit crazy, rapist brother to the pile.”

“It wasn’t like the usual Aden,” I try to explain. “He was gone, sort of like how you were when I got here.” 

“I’m sorry. So fucking sorry, baby,” he says with a kiss to my cheek. The two of us sit there, holding each other until Aden, speak of the devil, bursts through the door.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me,” Aden says. Turning to look over my shoulder at him, I watch as his eyes sweep the room and then come back to Brede and me. “Fuck,” he mutters. “How are you doing, bro?”

Before I know what’s happened, Brede’s hauling us up out of the chair. He lets me go, and then he’s at the door, shoving Aden against the wall before he starts punching him in the stomach and face.

“Brede!” I yell to try and stop him. This is nothing more than him trying to claw his way out of mourning and pursuing anger instead.

Since his right arm seems to be doing the most damage, I grab onto it with both hands, trying to stop him. It only slows his momentum down a little since he’s so much stronger.

“Brede, stop it! Stop! Please!” I scream as I continue to pull on his arm. “You’re gonna hurt me!” I say, and that finally gets him to pause and take a step back from his abused brother. I glance over at Aden to quickly check on him. While he may have deserved the first few punches, Brede probably overdid it as his brother’s back slides down the wall and crumples to the floor.

“What the fuck’s wrong with you?” Brede asks Aden.

“Um, why is everyone beating on me today?” Aden asks, rubbing his cheek.

Brede looks at me with a raised eyebrow in question.

“I smashed a lamp over his head,” I explain.

“Good girl,” he says with the hint of a smile before he pulls me against his still heaving chest. 

“I’m sorry about your folks, but it wasn’t my fault,” Aden mutters from his still slumped position on the floor.

“I beat you for her, not them,” Brede explains.

“Her?” Aden asks.

“If you ever touch her again, I’ll kill you,” Brede threatens.

“You encouraged it!” Aden exclaims indignantly.

“Only if she wanted it! And she didn’t!”

“Why didn’t she just say so instead of beating me in the head?” Aden asks.

I scoff before I respond. “I did, Aden! Over and over I said
no
and
stop,
but you ignored me! Remember when I scrambled away, and you pulled me back underneath you?”

“Oh. I thought you were just nervous,” Aden replies.

“Whathefuck ever,” Brede grumbles, running his fingers through his hair. “Touch her again, and I’ll kill you.”

“Fine!” Aden says, holding his palms up in front of him. “I’m sorry. I misunderstood…”

“Which is why…” Brede starts.

“I can never touch her again,” Aden finishes. “Okay. I won’t. I promise.”

Brede pulls me to him, wrapping me in his arms before he leans down and whispers in my ear, “I’ll never leave you alone with him again.”

Nodding my agreement against his chest, I blow out a breath of relief.

“I’m sorry I went off on you,” Brede says to Aden. “You deserved most of it, but I may have lost control.”

“You’re right. I don’t deserve to live,” Aden replies, causing Brede’s arms to tighten around me. “So what happened? How are you?”

“Fucking awful,” Brede replies. “They didn’t deserve this shit.”

“No, they didn’t,” Aden agrees, trying to pull himself off the ground and failing. “They were good people, although sort of nuts for being brave enough to raise you.”

“Yeah, they must’ve been. And now they’re dead because of me.”

“We’re gonna track down the fucker who’s responsible and tear him apart,” Aden promises.

“He’s dead. But the woman who sent him is not.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Aden asks, cracking his knuckles before he’s finally able to get to his feet again, using the wall to keep him upright.

“I need to…fuck, I’ve got to go make the funeral arrangements. I’m all the family they had,” Brede says sadly.

“We’ll help you,” I promise him, cupping his face in my hands and pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“You’re gonna have to be careful going out in public,” Aden says. “I can’t believe you were dumb enough to come back here.”

Brede and I look at him in shock for being such as asshole.

“What?” Aden asks, looking between us. “You do know you’re a wanted man, right?”

Oh, fuck!

“Wanted?” Brede asks.

“Why do you think I’ve been flipping through channels so much? Roger’s body washed up. Your bike was at his house, so of course you’re wanted for questioning in his murder. There’s probably already a court order for your DNA swab to see if it’s a match to the blood on the window.”

“Goddamn, it,” Brede grumbles, wrenching away from me to slam his head against the wall. “She fucking knows, and she turned me in!”

“Who?” Aden asks.

“Nadia Taylor. She just married Blair’s father and killed him on their honeymoon.”

“Ah, fuck! All these years wasted! I’ve been trying to figure out how to nail that bastard and get dad off, and just when we’re actually close to doing it, poof, he’s gone! Now what the fuck are we gonna do? How are we gonna get dad out? Shit, I need to talk to my boss, see if he can figure out who this bitch is and set up surveillance,” Aden rambles.

“Why don’t you check outside, you know, make sure no one’s lurking around the house,” Brede suggests.

“Yeah, sure. We’ll need disguises from now on when we go out,” Aden tells us. “You know, because we look just alike except I don’t have tattoos. You’re a masochist, by the way, for covering yourself with that crazy shit.” Then he’s gone, stepping out the door.

“He’s lying,” I whisper to Brede as soon as he’s gone.

“I know,” he replies with a sigh, physically deflating. “Maybe I’ve always known and just didn’t want to accept that he’s delusional. And if he is lying, how the fuck are we gonna get my dad out of prison?”

Blair

The next few days are a blur of planning for Paula and Jim’s cremation and small memorial service. Since he’s wanted, Brede had me go to the funeral home with a fistful of cash to make all the arrangements. He’s understandably upset. One minute he may be quiet and introspective, and then the next, he’s pacing around the hotel room, practically seething with rage, wanting revenge.

And then there’s Aden.

While he’s in the shower, I convince Brede to call the doctor on his brother’s phone to try and find out what’s going on with him.

“You’re right. There’s nothing but that same number in here and the one 9-1-1 call from the night we were back at Roger’s house,” Brede says as he scrolls through the call log. “Here goes.”

In our bedroom with the door shut, we put the phone on speaker.

“Aden? What’s going on?” the deep voice asks with a heavy exhale, as if he’s expecting the worst.

“Hi, um, this is actually Aden’s brother, Brede.”

“Right, of course. You miss your brother, which I’ve told you is natural. And since you were twins, you miss the connection with him even more, but remember, you’re Aden…”

“What the fuck?” Brede interrupts. “This really is Brede, Aden’s brother, and my girlfriend Blair.” He motions for me to say something, so I do.

“Hi, Dr. Allen, is it?” I ask.

“Take me off speaker, so I can just talk to Blair,” the man says.

Brede raises an eyebrow but does as the doctor asked, offering the phone to me.

“Okay, you’re not on speaker,” I tell him.

“Blair, are you in danger?” he asks.

“Ah, not at the moment.”

“Has Aden hurt you?”

“No. I mean, once he tied me up and left, and then the other day he didn’t stop touching me until I knocked him out. I’m starting to think he has…issues.”

“Yes. And I wouldn’t usually break doctor-patient confidentiality, but you could be in danger. Aden’s been relatively harmless in the past, but there’s no way to predict the future.”

“He’s not really a federal agent, is he?” I ask, and Brede inches closer to me to try and hear the conversation.

“No, but the fact that you believed he was for any length of time goes to show you just how convincing he can be. Aden suffers from delusions of grandeur and Dissociative Identity Disorder caused by…trauma in his childhood. Do you know about his history?”

“Um, yes, he told his brother that he was sexually abused by his foster father.”

“Wait. You’ve actually met his brother, or is it Aden pretending to be his twin brother?”

“No, his brother Brede is right here. He’s the one who called you. Aden’s in the shower.”

“Are you absolutely sure that you’re dealing with two different people?”

“Yes. Brede is covered in tattoos, and Aden doesn’t have any,” I explain. “There’s no way he could pretend to be Brede.”

“Oh, well, apologize to Brede since I assumed he was Aden.”

“Sure, and can I put you back on speaker now so he can hear you too?” I ask.

“Go ahead.”

I hit the button, and Brede squeezes my shoulder in thanks.

“So, doc, is my brother nuts or what?” he asks.

“As I told Blair, your brother suffers from several psychological issues. Because of the abuse he suffered, he has Dissociative Identity Disorder. It’s a coping mechanism. He pretends or thinks he really is a different person with unique thoughts, memories, an entirely different identity because he doesn’t want to remember his tragic childhood.”

“So, it’s easier for him to pretend to be someone else?” Brede asks.

“Yes. Although seeing you again has probably caused a bit of chaos in his life, since your presence will force him to remember who he really is, instead of continuing to deny it to himself.”

“Which is bad?” I ask.

“There’s no way for me to know how he will cope, but I think you could help him remain more stable by playing up his Aaron Burroughs identity, which is the most morally responsible one. Aden also suffers from delusions of grandeur. He believes he’s in a position of power, the law enforcement agent persona, because he wants to help your father, who he claims is innocent of murder. And that’s the only way he knows how to help since he’s unable to actually rescue him.”

“My father
is
innocent,” Brede growls. “Blair’s father killed her mother in front of her and then framed my dad.” 

“Oh, well, that’s what Aden has always told me as well, but you can see how it was hard for me to believe him when…”

“Everything he says is a lie,” Brede finishes, hanging his head and swiping his palms down his face. “Fuck! Now we’ve got to start from the beginning to try and figure out how to get my dad released. We thought Aden was helping, and now Blair’s father is dead.”

“Wait, did Aden kill him?”

“No, his new wife did. It’s a long, complicated story,” Brede explains.

“Sounds like it,” Dr. Allen remarks. “How about this, I do have real connections in law enforcement. I’ve been an expert witness in several federal cases. Let me see if I can find someone who is willing to hear you out.”

“That would be great,” Brede says. “We don’t know what else to do.”

“Do you have a phone number that I can call so I’ll know I’m talking to you and not…”

“My batshit crazy brother,” Brede mutters.

“He’s not crazy,” the doctor tells us on an exhale. “He’s been through hell, and his brain is just trying to cope the only way it knows how – by trying to forget.”

Brede grabs Roger’s phone and gives him the number for it before we disconnect the call. Then we put Aden’s phone back in his room before he realizes we’ve been on it.

…

Brede

I finally get my brother back after all these years and he’s certifiably crazy. My girlfriend is too. Guess it’s only a matter of time before I end up in the loony bin right there with them or worse, serving a life prison sentence with my dad.

In fact, I’ve never felt more like a mental head case than I do today, having to say a final goodbye to the man and woman who raised me. The guilt and sadness are an enormous weight bearing down on me. But a part of me knows that this is the punishment I deserve.

After killing men for years without a shred of remorse, now I’m getting it all at once, making the days almost unbearable.

I think back to when Paula and Jim first brought me home. If I could go back in time, I would pull that angry, scared little shit I was up by his collar and shake some appreciation into him.

Of course, when I think about going back in time, I think of Blair. What if I hadn’t taken the call from Roger? What if I had killed her on sight that first day? Would my parents still be alive? And the most fucked up, selfish part is, if I was offered a ride back in the Delorean with Doc right now, I can’t admit to myself that I would do a damn thing differently. Which, of course, makes me feel even more like a fucking asshole for wanting to be with Blair when I don’t deserve her. If she could pick the worst man in the world to end up with, it would be me. Or my brother. Both of us are neck and neck for that title.

The memorial is a small gathering of friends and neighbors that I watch from the cheap POS van Blair bought with cash. It takes all of my restraint not to lose my shit because I can’t be inside the funeral home, honoring my parents’ memory. All because I’m a murderer, and my past is finally catching up with me. While I’m drowning in mourning, I’m also miserable knowing that I can’t give Blair the normal life and family she deserves, not while every cop in the country is looking for me. We’ve talked about fleeing to Mexico, but that only seems like an even shitter option than hiding in the states. The only good news is that the media hasn’t mentioned any of my tattoos because I didn’t have them in the army, and I’ve always been careful to keep them hidden. So it’s just my face and Aden’s, of course, on the television that everyone is looking for.

I’m antsy from the lack of control in my life and would love nothing more than to find and kill the woman who orchestrated the murder of my parents and then turned me in. The problem is I’m no longer getting messages on Roger’s or Dalton’s phones, so I have no clue if she’s back in the country. Nadia and Blair’s father weren’t supposed to return until this past Friday; but for the next few days, we need to lay low and give the manhunt for me time to die down a little more. Next week we’ll probably try to head to North Carolina and take that bitch out. For all we know, she’s got the entire Lexington Police Department guarding her, waiting for me to show, so we need to be careful and not barge into that town with guns blazing.

“You ready to go inside?” Blair asks once there’s no longer a line of people going in or out the front of the funeral home. “I’m sorry, but the, um, funeral director said they have another service to get ready for.”

“Yeah, okay,” I agree.

“I’ll stay and keep an eye out,” Aden offers, and I pat his shoulder in the driver seat as thanks.

As soon as Blair and I meet at the front of the hood, I grab her hand and pull her inside, tugging the bill of my baseball cap down to make sure my face is hidden. It seems wrong to be dressed so casually in jeans and a tee going to honor Paula and Jim’s memory. It’s just one more reason I hate being on the run, looking over my shoulder at every turn.

The idea of ending up in prison for the rest of my life keeps me up at night, only because I don’t want to leave Blair. I would rather die than put her through that shit, the once-a-week visits and not having me be an actual part of her life. Inside, I would go insane worrying about her, knowing I should be with her, protecting her and our family…

Standing in the room of empty chairs, I say a silent thank you to the smiling faces in the framed photo Blair brought by yesterday. It’s a picture of Paula and Jim on their wedding day, forty some years ago. A memorialization of the day they vowed to spend the rest of their life together. Now, they’re together in death.

Hearing her sniffles, I glance down at Blair, who’s still clasping my hand. She shouldn’t look so sexy in her sleeveless black dress on a day like this, but she does.

“Ready?” I ask her as she wipes her eyes with a tissue. It’s sweet that she’s so upset just because she knows I am. And even though she didn’t know my foster parents long, I think she loved them.

“If you are,” she replies, so I tug her by her hand toward the door. “Ah, Brede?” she asks.

“Yeah, baby?” I ask.

“Don’t you need to take the urn and photo with you?”

“Shit,” I grumble before leading her back to the front of the room where the bronze urn sits with a weeping angel decorating the top. How can something so small look so…important? Knowing that’s all that is left of my parents is like a tidal wave of reality smacking me in the face. Drowning me.

“Do you…do you want me to carry it?” Blair asks. With my silent nod, she lifts the container and holds it against her chest like she thinks it’s something precious too, before tucking the photo in the crook of her other arm. And that small, respectful gesture, after the shittiest week of my life, is what makes me crumble.

Not wanting Blair to witness my breakdown, I storm through the funeral home and find the men’s room, where I slip inside and lock myself in a stall. There, I rest my forehead on the back of the door and let myself finally cry for the first time in ten years.

Tears cascade down my face like a roaring river, reminding me of the night they took us from our home and told us our father had been charged with murder. I didn’t think anything could hurt as much as that day, but I was wrong. He was taken away from us, but still breathing…still alive…

“Brede?” 

Aden’s voice drifts through the stall door. He was supposed to be keeping watch from the van. Swiping my damp face over the sleeve of my arm, I have to clear my throat to answer.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?” he asks. What sort of fucking question is that? “Sorry, stupid question,” he says from above me.

“Jeez, what the fuck?” I exclaim when I look up and see his head leaning down over into my stall. Before I can reach for toilet paper to dry off my face, Aden catapults down into the small space. Then, his arms are around me, pulling me to his chest for a hug that makes me feel like a child, but that I’m grateful for nonetheless.

“It’s okay to be upset. They were good people. Great ones, and I mourn the loss of them even though I only met them one day. I wanted more time with them, the foster parents I should’ve had.”

My head nods my agreement against his shoulder. For a crazy man, he sometimes makes a lot of sense.

“Now, when you’re ready, there’s a beautiful woman out there who’s worried about you. And we need to figure out how the fuck we’re gonna kill that bitch who did this and keep your ass out of prison. Blair will lose her shit if you get arrested.” 

“She might be pregnant,” I admit to Aden when he pulls away. His face is tight and tense from our brief touch, but he let me hug him me anyway.

“What?” he asks. “You’ve been fucking her bareback this week?”

“Ah, no, not this week. Last. She didn’t take the morning after pill.”