A Heart of Shame (The Redemption Saga Book 2) Page 3

  “About time,” Jasper groaned. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “Yeah!” Zander jumped up.

  Vincent moved so Jasper could try to get out of the booth, then laughed as Jasper tried to stand, forgetting he needed crutches and nearly going down. Vincent and Zander caught him, making all three of them list to one side.

  “Where are your crutches, asshat?” Zander growled, hauling Jasper up. Vincent tried his best to stop laughing. He really did.

  “Uh.” Jasper frowned. Vincent saw their waitress bring them over, and he took them from her with a smile.

  “Thank you for keeping these safe,” Vincent chuckled, handing them to Jasper. The waitress only nodded with a perturbed look and left. Vincent handed them one at a time, somehow, to Jasper who bitched and moaned about it.

  “I hate this,” he grumbled.

  “We’ll get Elijah to make you a peg leg,” Zander joked, helping Jasper out of the bar. It was a disaster, Vincent realized. Jasper was too drunk to properly use the crutches, Zander was too drunk to help him, and Vincent was too drunk to really care about the collision with the door they were about to have.

  Sure enough, Jasper tripped over one crutch with the only foot he had. Zander slammed his knee into the other crutch. The door, which Zander had pushed open, swung back and slammed into Jasper.

  Vincent threw his head back and laughed, staggering into a big burly farmer who glared at him. Vincent was still laughing as he stumbled over the tangle of bodies and crutches on the floor in front of the door. He made it outside, grabbed the back of Jasper’s shirt and pulled, dragging him onto the sidewalk. Zander stumbled his own ass out, bringing along the crutches.

  “Hurry up and get out before you three break something!” The bartender yelled, and Vincent continued to laugh as he pulled Jasper to his one leg, and Zander forced a crutch into his hands.

  “Shit, let’s go,” Vincent whispered conspiratorially, trying to hold back the hilarity he was feeling.

  “Yeah, come on, Peg Leg.” Zander laughed, giving Jasper a nudge before he was properly balanced. Balance which was impossible in Jasper’s state because that nudge only led to another crash, this time onto the sidewalk and the gravel lot of the tiny bar, making them laugh more.

  “Boys, who do I need to call to get you out of here tonight?” The owner stomped out, and Vincent began to laugh harder.

  “I’ll call Elijah, Dwayne!” Vincent grinned at him.

  “Sorry. Jasper here is a leg down right now,” Zander said, laughing and pulling Jasper back up. “We’re working on it.”

  “You boys,” Dwayne grumbled, going back inside.

  Vincent pulled his phone out and hit Elijah’s face. It only rang twice, and Elijah was on the line.

  “Need a ride?” Elijah asked, a laugh evident in his voice.

  “Yeah.” Vincent chuckled. “We need a pick up at Harry’s.”

  “I’ll bring help,” Elijah told him and hung up.

  Vincent, Jasper, and Zander all ended up sitting on the curb, waiting.

  “He said he was bringing help,” Vincent whispered, though it wasn’t a quiet one. It made a passerby look at him oddly, and Vincent waved, causing the local to walk a little faster.

  “Quinn can’t drive, so it looks like our rides are going to be left here tonight.” Zander groaned.

  “Sawyer can drive,” Vincent reminded him. “She might take one of them home.”

  “That’s right!” Zander threw a finger up like he was pointing at the light bulb that must have gone off over his head. Vincent snorted.

  It took a while, but Elijah, Sawyer, and Quinn did show up. They parked right in front of them.

  Sawyer looked at her old friends, then to Vincent. “I’ll take Vincent,” she mumbled, grabbing him under arm and hauling him up. “I’m obviously driving. Are you going to bitch about that?”

  “Nope,” Vincent said brightly.

  “Good Lord, he is drunk.” Elijah laughed. “Come on, Quinn, let’s get Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum.”

  “Uh?” Quinn frowned at everyone.

  “Zander and Jasper.” Elijah sighed. Vincent laughed as Quinn realized who Elijah was referring to. They needed to catch that guy up on everything. Elijah’s Alice in Wonderland reference had flown right over his head. “I’ll explain later,” Elijah said, pulling Zander up.

  “Why can’t we go with Sawyer?” Zander whined. Jasper didn’t say a word, but if he had, Vincent would have missed it. Sawyer was patting his pockets, and Vincent nearly had a heart attack as she shoved her hand in his pocket.

  “Woah!” Vincent gasped, trying to pull away. He hadn’t been expecting this. Not that it wasn’t amazing, but he didn’t need her feeling his erection.

  “Your keys, idiot,” Sawyer growled, pulling her hand back out of his pocket and jingling the keys.

  Oh. That makes sense.

  He must have said that out loud because Sawyer responded.

  “Doesn’t it? Oh, how the mighty fall with a bit of drink in them,” Sawyer mumbled. She began to drag him toward his car, and he chuckled, remembering something wonderful.

  “You’re one to talk,” he teased, hoping to get her riled up. “A couple drinks and a cowboy. The end of the great assassin named—"

  Her hand clamped over his mouth, and his back hit his car.

  “Not. In. Public.” She snarled.

  He nodded behind her hand. He liked her there, pressed up against him, glaring. One hand on his mouth, another wrapped up in his shirt, ready to kick his ass. Something was so fucking wrong with him.

  “Get in.” She removed the hand from his mouth and let him go with the other. He heard the beep of his car being unlocked. The passenger door opened, and he was pushed in. He was still fighting with the seat belt as Sawyer walked around the front and got in the driver’s side. When the car started, and she began pulling out, she looked over to him. “Never. In. Public.”

  “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, realizing how uncomfortable he’d made her.

  “Why are you hammered?” she asked, getting them onto the road.

  “Why did you get me and not your boys?” he asked back.

  “Because I have the feeling you won’t get handsy,” Sawyer told him blandly.

  “No, I distinctly remember you molesting me,” Vincent reminded her. He’d liked it.

  “Keys, Vincent. I was getting your keys.” Sawyer sighed. “Now, I answered yours, so you answer mine. That’s the little game we play, follow the rules.”

  “I like to have a drink occasionally.” Vincent growled. He hadn’t called Elijah to get chastised by Sawyer.

  “A drink,” she muttered. Vincent loved the thick sarcasm of it.

  They sat in silence for a moment after that. Vincent crossed his arms over his chest as Sawyer frowned at his choice in music. Then he heard her start singing to it softly, and that amazed him.

  “You know Puccini?” he asked as the song ended and another started up.

  “I do.”

  “How?” He was flabbergasted. He adored it. She didn’t have a singing voice, and her Italian wasn’t the best in the world, but she knew the words to his favorite music.

  “You know how,” she answered softly, looking sad.

  Vincent swallowed and felt his blood run cold. His stomach did jumps as he realized what she was talking about. The knowledge of his music. Her ability to play chess.

  So much about her was him.

  A creature he’d created.

  “Pull over,” he groaned. She slammed the brakes and got them to the grass on the side of the road. He barely got his seat belt off and door open, falling out of the car to vomit in the grass.

  He didn’t hear her get out, only felt her hand on his back.

  “A drink, he says,” Sawyer mumbled sarcastically. She didn’t say anything else, only helped him get back into the car. This time, she handled the seatbelt, and Vincent just sat there, a bit defeated and ashamed in himself. He’d never lost it on the sid
e of the road before. That was gross. He felt dirty.

  When they were moving again, he let her change the music to a local country station without complaint. He listened to her sing along to those songs, as well.

  “What were you doing when Elijah brought you to pick us up?” Vincent asked, wishing he had a water to get the awful taste out of his mouth.

  “We were watching movies. Me, him and Quinn,” Sawyer answered, turning down their driveway. “Quinn’s knowledge of movies is terrible.”

  “Yup,” Vincent mumbled. “We’ve been trying to get him caught up, but work and other obligations always get in the way.”

  “You should show him the Godfather. He might like that one,” Sawyer offered, and Vincent knew she didn’t put any thought into it.

  “The Godfather has never been played, nor will it ever be played in this house,” Vincent grumbled, crossing his arms again.

  “I’m not even going to ask.” Sawyer sighed. “I don’t think I need to.”

  “Good,” Vincent mumbled. He felt immature about it, but he hated that movie. It was too close to home. Mob family, madness, under-handed dealings.

  That had him thinking about his father, which had him thinking about Axel. That had him thinking about their mother, their uncles and aunts, and their cousins. Now Henry.

  Gone. All gone. Married off, in hiding, or dead. Absorbed by other families or out of the game. All that was left, for years, were Axel and Vincent and the silent war they waged against each other.

  He felt the car stop and realized they were in the garage. He pushed out of the car, stumbling a couple steps. He ran into Sawyer and frowned.

  “Blinking,” he mumbled petulantly. That was the only way she could have gotten in front of him from the other side of the car.

  “That’s right,” Sawyer sighed. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “You use your magic a lot,” he noted as she pulled him through the house and up the stairs.

  “Only recently.”

  “Why?”

  “You like asking questions,” she said, using his own curt, observant tone.

  He did. He liked to pick people apart and see how they thought, how they worked. People were puzzles, pieces of games that he could position how he wanted them once he knew their inner workings.

  Sawyer was the hardest puzzle he’d ever encountered. He just didn’t get her sometimes. The arrogance matched with a crippling guilt. Shadows in her eyes, yet a smile on her face and a laugh in her voice.

  “I do.” He leaned on wall as she opened his door. “I like understanding people.”

  “You like thinking you know everything,” she corrected him. He frowned at her. “The only difference between you and Jasper in that regard is that he likes tangible things. How mechanics work. Science. You go for the obscure stuff like how people think, what secrets they’re hiding from you. And once you think you have figured it out, you use that information like no one’s business.”

  “Don’t act like you know everything,” he huffed, going into his room. He didn’t like her observation. It made him sound like Axel. Vincent was not his fucking brother.

  “I’m not.” Sawyer sighed. Vincent didn’t like how patient she was being. He wanted an argument. He wanted the snarky remarks and the arrogant posture. All he saw right then was a woman who was tired but willing to put up with him.

  She didn’t make any fucking sense, and it was driving him batshit insane. It also intrigued him immensely.

  He tried to pull his shirt off and nearly fell over. She grabbed him and helped. She pushed him to sit down on the bed, and he prayed she wasn’t paying attention to how much he liked the idea of her pushing him around like that.

  Something was seriously wrong with him.

  She went down on a knee and he swallowed at the idea of her there. He watched her get his boots off him and then stand back up.

  “Good night, Vincent,” she said, turning and leaving him there.

  He growled. He was hard as a rock, drunk, confused, and a little pissed off.

  “Unfair,” he mumbled to himself. A reminder of a cold truth. “The world is so unfair.”

  He pulled his pants off somehow and ignored his raging hard on. It didn’t deserve his attention. It wasn’t allowed to be attracted to her. It just wasn’t, not after everything else. It was one thing for her to be Axel’s… ex. That, he might have been able to live with.

  Being Axel’s assassin? Axel’s victim in a horrible game of blackmail, extortion, and abuse?

  Vincent didn’t know how he felt about her anymore. Admiration? Terror? Ashamed of his family for what his brother did to her? Himself? He just didn’t know.

  He did know he fucking hated his brother.

  3

  Sawyer

  She closed Vincent’s door and let out a groan. They were going to kill her faster than it ever would have happened with Axel. She hadn’t missed anything about that interaction. Not a single thing. Not the way he enjoyed her dragging him around. Not the bulge in his pants, not the heat in his eyes at the end. Not the slight green tinge to his skin after she reminded him that she knew most Italian culture because of Axel.

  None of it.

  She looked over at Elijah coming out of Zander’s room. Zander was throwing a hissy fit over being tossed onto his bed without care. Quinn was leaving Jasper’s room with a frown. Jasper was actually being well-behaved about the entire thing, just agreeing to wait until he had a new leg before trying this again.

  “How was Vincent?” Elijah asked with a smile. “Jasper and Zander were very upset you took him and not them.”

  “Very Vincent,” Sawyer mumbled, ignoring that Jasper and Zander were being whiny. She’d picked Vincent thinking he’d be easier to handle. She’d been wrong. “Very drunk. He always like that when he’s drinking?”

  “Uh, yeah.” Elijah snorted, still smiling. “You going to bed?”

  She nodded silently and looked back at Vincent’s door.

  “He was sick on the way home. Someone will need to watch him. I just left him sitting there.”

  “I’ll put Shade with him,” Quinn mumbled, moving around her and opening Vincent’s door. Ten seconds later, Shade raced up the stairs and straight into Vincent’s room.

  “Damn it! Shade, get off me! Quinn! Unnecessary!” Vincent snarled as Quinn closed the door. Sawyer raised an eyebrow then shook her head, deciding she didn’t want to know. She really didn’t. Elijah was snickering like a mad man.

  “I’m going to bed,” she sighed.

  “Can we come?” Elijah purred, and Sawyer bared her teeth at him. She passed him quickly to get to her stairs.

  “Can I sleep with you?” Quinn asked. Sawyer frowned. She turned around and looked at the two guys. Quinn hadn’t directed the question at her, it seemed. He was looking at Elijah, who yawned and nodded.

  “Of course.” Elijah chuckled, throwing an arm over Quinn’s shoulder. “You know I’ll never say no.”

  She furrowed her brow and decided to put that out of her mind too. The night was steadily getting weirder as it continued.

  The movies had been fine. Elijah and Quinn had joked around, and she’d felt nearly normal, other than needing to fill Quinn in on things that didn’t make sense. Like what a VCR was. He had no idea. He was old enough to know, but he didn’t. Elijah had told her that they tried to explain it before and Quinn was just fishing for a better answer that wasn’t Jasper’s technical jargon. Apparently, Quinn fished for information and answers that made the most sense to him.

  Then Vincent.

  Now this.

  “Nope,” she whispered to herself. “Nope. Just let them be weird, Sawyer. You have your own shit to handle.”

  She made it to her room without any more of this house’s brand of strange. The night seemed nearly normal. The guys were all being strange, she was confused, and Elijah was still very much a pervert.

  Normal.

  She was unsure how this becoming her ‘normal’ mad
e her feel. She liked her old normal. Kids in the gym, Charlie yelling at her.

  That made her curse. Charlie. Liam. Her students. Shit. Since she woke up, too much new crap was going on, and she hadn’t checked in with them. They probably had no idea what was going on.

  She would call them soon. They were probably passed out at that very moment. Liam was just starting a new semester, as well. She couldn’t call them this late.

  She rolled into bed pulled off her tank and hissed. She touched the scar running two inches down the center of her abdomen. It wasn’t thin, either. Another piece of history, marked and laid on her body, that she would never be rid of. It still had some bruising, and tenderness to it. Zander had done literally all he could before he nearly killed himself. That’s what she’d been told.

  Then she slept for four days.

  In Sawyer’s mind, those were the best four days of her life.

  Or afterlife.

  Whatever.

  She finished stripping and lay on her blankets, groaning. She was still sore from everything that had happened, still feeling the aftermath of the fight. She could ignore it and power through most of the time, but lying alone in bed, she gave herself the right to groan and whine about it.

  “They didn’t even give me painkillers.” Sawyer groaned, a bit pissed off by that. “And I need them. Not just for the pain but to be high enough to deal with these people.”

  Sawyer rolled out of bed early the next morning, cranky. A nightmare had ridden her hard all the way through the night, and every time she closed her eyes again, it was there. She rolled over and saw the box that she and Elijah had forgotten to take out. Her gear was still in the room.

  She got out of bed and left her room, ignoring it. She wasn’t in the mood to deal with it, yet. It was early, and she could remind Elijah about it later.

  She walked toward the back door. It was still dark outside, and she took a deep breath of the humid, hot night of summer in Georgia. Some people thought it was suffocating, but she found herself feeling at home in it. She still missed New York, but there wasn’t any smog out here; no cars honking constantly, no people to interrupt her thoughts.