Loving Redemption

Due out this June.

CHAPTER ONE

My ears are ringing, my head hurts, and I feel something wet trickling down my face. "Shit!" I turn and see Michaels crumple to the ground, his pants turning crimson. The sun is hot. It's beating down on me. I feel the sweat running down the side of my face, chest and back. As the wind kicks up, I feel the sand stick to my wet face. I bite down from the pain and my teeth crunch. The smell of hot burning metal and rubber infiltrates my system as I look at my best friend. My heart is racing. I can't catch my breath. "Michaels! Michaels!" I try to pick him up, but I can't move. Sweat is running down my face, or maybe it's blood. I don't know. I can't breathe. Shit, I can't breathe.

I shoot up in bed, gasping for air, blinking to find something familiar to focus on. I unconsciously place my hand on what remains of my wound, still trying to catch my breath and erase the memories of the all-too-common nightmare. I pull my legs over the side of the bed and sit there, leaning over, my elbows on my knees, as I run my hand through my sweat-dampened hair, then down my face. I walk to the bathroom and turn on cold water to splash my face. I stand there looking in the mirror, wondering if things will ever get better. It's been four years since the IED and ambush. Four fucking long years. How long are these nightmares going to last?

I walk back to my bed and turn on the nightstand light. I glance at the clock that shines bright orange numbers: 1:48 a.m. I pull out my journal and pen from the nightstand drawer and start to jot down what I remember of the nightmare.
Then I look at what has happened since my last one. I started to work with Beckett Dalton.

***

I met Beckett about nine years ago, at Krav Maga. He was still in high school; I think he was a junior. He was small for his age, nice looking kid, and smart as shit, but only stood maybe five foot five inches. He was the kind of kid that would have a “kick me” sign on his back and not know it. I didn't know it then, but he had had a real bad childhood. Verbally and physically abused and neglected by his mother all of his life. He was a very proud kid. I would ask where he got some of the bruises I saw on him, and he would play it off as being clumsy, but after watching him in class, I knew that wasn't the case.

When I was on leave, you could always find me in the Krav gym. There was something about Beckett; he was a good kid, and nice, which surprised me given what was waiting for him at home and school. He lacked self-esteem and confidence, probably because he had had it beaten out of him. One day, I went up to him and asked if he would like to work out with me, so I could help him focus on specific moves to develop his skill faster. He was graceful and efficient. He picked it up as if he had been doing it all of his life. He was a natural.

I would see him once or twice a year, depending on if I was deployed or not. Our unit was deployed right before he graduated from high school. When I returned, I went to the gym to check up on him, but couldn't find him. I actually asked the guy at the front desk where he was.

I had looked right past him, not even recognizing him. Shit, he was almost as tall as I was; he had to be close to six-three. He saw me, though, and had a big smile on his face. I guess he wanted to see if I would recognize him. He looked good. He had started working for Richard Stone, building software and apps for phones and computers.

Beckett had brought Richard into the gym to start him working out, too. Richard's a really great guy. He lost both of his parents in a plane crash and had a hard time getting over their deaths. Story is, he tried to find his way at the bottom of a bottle but, like everyone else who tries it, found it didn't work. He hired Beckett at about the same time as I met him. Beckett evidently talked Richard into joining the gym, which helped him focus on what was important.

I could see how Richard could choose that path. I know I almost did. I was on my third tour, that time in Afghanistan. We were stationed out of Leatherneck…

Trent Michaels is my best friend; we met in boot camp and didn't like each other at first. I had an attitude just because that’s the way I am. We fought a lot in boot camp, but one night a couple of dick-fuckers started screwing with him, hassling him for no fucking reason. We might not have liked each other, but he was still my brother in arms and I had his back. After that, we were thick as thieves, the proverbial Mutt and Jeff. We found out that we didn't live too far from each other, just a few hours.

Anyway, we were in a convoy, on the way to another FOB (Forward Operating Base). It was hot and dusty, dustier than usual. We were on our way to pick up some equipment. The next thing I knew, I must have run over an IED pressure plate that led to my best friend almost dying. Then came the bullets. I could hear them pinging off the metal of our RG-31. We had been ambushed.

We took cover on the other side of our rig as I tried to help Michaels. The blast had been directly under him. I picked him up and carried him to the safest spot I could find, where we waited for the QRF (Quick Reaction Force) to show up and get us out of there. It wasn't as if I hadn't been in that type of situation before, but this time was different. I had a hard time catching my breath, almost like a stitch in my side. I knew I was winded from carrying Michaels, but I had trained for that. It wasn't until I was getting out of the MRAP (Mine-Resistant Ambush Protected) vehicle, at base, that I collapsed.

I don't remember a lot of what happened over the next few days, other than I had been hit in the side by shrapnel that had grazed my liver. No one, including myself, knew I had been wounded. I had been covered in Michaels's blood and although I hurt, I just thought it was from the blast.

They shipped me to Germany then back to the states to recover from the wound and PTSD. Due to my type of injury, I was discharged from the service.

Up to that point, the military was all I knew. I didn't have family; I had been raised in the foster system after being taken away from my crack-addicted mother, and who knew who my father was. All I ever wanted to do was to protect my country. Now, I can't even do that.

I came home feeling sorry for myself and would find myself at the local bar. Somehow, Beckett knew. He came down to the bar, dragged me out, and took me back to his place. He wouldn't leave my side. He said that he wasn't going to let a friend kill himself when he had so much to live for.

Beckett got me thinking about starting a security business. He had actually planted the bug in my ear months before. I had been feeling sorry for myself and was floundering. I would go to the gym and beg to spar with someone, preferably someone big, who could beat the shit out of me. I had been doing security in the Marines for six years; it was my MOS (Military Occupational Specialty).

"Why don't you start your own security business?" Beckett had asked. "You've been doing it for years. You know everything there is to know about it."

"I don't know. It's different in the real world, Beckett."

"What, are you afraid of failing?"

"I just don't know. I don't know if I am capable of protecting someone."

Out of nowhere, Beckett threw a punch at my face. I hadn't been prepared for it, but I saw it coming towards my face and blocked it as he threw another. Then he tried to swipe my feet out from under me as I jumped over them before throwing another couple punches. I blocked them all.

He stopped and looked at me. "As I see it, you have quick reflexes, even when your mind is on other things. You were trained for this, Mitchell. The only way you will fail is if you don't try. You can't succeed without failing at something. Failure teaches you what mistakes not to make again."

"But Beckett, this is something that I can't fail at. People's lives depend on it."

"Mitchell, it wasn't your responsibility to protect Michaels, correct?"

"Correct."

"But you were there for him, weren't you? You stopped his bleeding and you protected him until additional help came, correct?"

"Yes."

"You risked your life for him, correct?"

"Yes."

"He survived because of you, correct?"
Looking down, I understood where Beckett was going with that. "Yes, he did."

"Mitchell, this is the perfect profession for you. You have the insight, knowledge, and expertise to make this work. Could you imagine if Michael Jordan had listened to his high school coach? He was kicked off the team because he was told he didn't have talent. I bet his coach would hide under a rock now for making that statement. I'm not saying that you won't have problems, but you will learn from them."

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. Beckett has a way of seeing all the good in you and encourages you to find it in yourself. He sees things in people that they don't see in themselves.

Beckett hired me recently to help protect his girlfriend, Harlow. From what Beckett had told me a few years ago, Harlow was his only friend as a small child. She actually protected him in grade school and junior high, but then he had to move and they lost touch with each other. I never see that part of Harlow. What I see is a scared woman who was brutally attacked by an ex-boyfriend, a guy who has threatened to come back and finish what he started five years ago. He even beat her father up, breaking his nose and bruising ribs. If her father hadn't come home, though, the ex-boyfriend, Brad, would have raped her. How sick is that?

Ten years later, Beckett finally reconnected with Harlow after running into her at the deli she owns. Beckett is concerned about Brad and where and what he has been up to. That's where I come in. Beckett wants me to find him and see what he is planning, but the guy is off the grid. There isn't any information on him. He hasn't used his bank accounts or credit cards, hasn't made a change of address at the DMV, shows no work or school history, nothing. It is as if he stepped off the earth. He is smoke.

Most of the time, Beckett and I just talk on the phone, but he asked me to come sit down and talk about the ex-boyfriend. He and Richard are also looking to hire additional staff and want background checks done on the final applicants.

Richard and Beckett just recently moved into an office building because of the amount of business they are getting. They needed something a little more professional, with a conference room to meet prospective clients in. They had been working out of Richard's home but moved to grow the business. This was the first time I was seeing their office space.

I walk through the door not expecting anything but see the most beautiful woman I have ever seen in my life. As I walk in and step toward her desk, she stands and introduces herself to me.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to Stonework's. I'm Raven." She reaches her hand out to me, and I am caught speechless. I'm never without words, but there is something about her. She's a good foot shorter than I am. Her name was perfect because her hair is a beautiful raven’s black. She has piercing green eyes, porcelain skin and she smells of vanilla and light floral and oh God, she smelled good.

She's wearing a simple black pencil skirt and green blouse that accentuates her eyes. She isn't what I am typically attracted to; I am more into tall blonde women, the type with long legs that can wrap around you twice. Raven is the polar opposite.

I reach my hand out to her "Toby" is all I can say. My dick twitches at her touch and I smile. What the fuck? Toby? I never let people know my first name. Shit, it was a good six months before I even told Beckett my name, and what's up with my dick? I know I haven't let it have company for a while, but the fuck ‘em and chuck ‘em is getting old. And fuck, how am I going to hide this from Beckett?
Of course, who turns the corner when I introduce myself but Beckett. He has a huge-ass smile on his face. I clear my throat and straighten my stance. "Uh, hey Beck, I was just uh, introducing myself to uh, Raven here." God, I feel myself turning red. Shit, why do I feel like I was just caught with my hand in the cookie jar? Although, I might not mind her cookie jar. Shit. Stop!

Beckett turns and I follow him back to his office. He sits down as I shut the door behind me, trying to nonchalantly adjust myself and then take a seat across from him. Beckett looks at me with a big-ass smile still on his face.
"What?"

"Uh huh..."

"What uh huh?

"Toby? Mitchell, how many years have we known each other? Eight, nine years or so, wouldn't you say?"

"Yeah, there about."

"And how many times have I seen you interact with a female?"

"Never."

"Exactly."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you have never interacted with a female because they didn't appeal to you. Now, little Miss Whitehorse out there, not only did you interact with her, but you flirted with her and had the biggest smile on your face that I have ever seen. Hell, you hardly smile anyway. In addition, you gave her your first name. It took six months before you gave it to me, and that was so, if you didn't make it back from your deployment, I would know who you were. If I didn't know better, I would say that you kind of like our Fair Raven."

"The last thing I need is a relationship. I don't do relationships, Beckett. I'm not like y... My childhood was shi..."

"Mitchell, I know you had a rough childhood, but that doesn't mean your whole life will be that way."

"Beckett, love is something I can't do. I don't even know that I believe in it. It's like unicorns, you want to believe in them, but have you ever seen one?"

"Mitchell, unlike unicorns, love does exist. I know it one hundred percent. If I didn't, I wouldn't be standing here today. Mitch, you know my story. Love and the hope of finding Harlow again were the only things that kept me going.”

"I know, Beck, but I've gone all my life without love. I don't know that I am capable of love.”

"I know you have, Mitch, and I think that is really sad, because it's the most wonderful feeling ever to know that someone cares for you so much that they will be there for you no matter what. I think our Ms. Whitehorse has been through a lot too. Just keep your options open. Get to know her. I'm not saying marry her." Beckett laughs.

"God, I just love her name," I say, thinking aloud.

"Earth to Mitchell."

"Oh, sorry man. I was just..."

"Uh huh."

"Man, I don't know what it is about her, but there's just something with her. I never get involved. I'm sorry. I'll keep my hands off."

"Mitchell, I don't care if you see Raven, that's up to the two of you. It's none of my business. You're both adults. I just thought it was funny because I've never seen you act like that before."

"You really don't mind?"

"Nope."

"Okay, well, maybe I'll ask her out."

Beckett smiles and shakes his head. "Now, back to business. Have you found out anything about Harlow's ex-boyfriend, Brad?"

"No, not as of yet. Whatever he is doing, he's off the grid. He hasn't used his bank accounts or credit cards."

"So, what do we do? How can we find him?"

"We're just going to have to be patient. He will surface, and when he does, he will screw up, and then we will be able to get him."

"Mitchell, it's been five years already. What makes you think he's still holding a vendetta?"

"Beckett, do you really want to take that risk? If he weren't looking to come back after her, he wouldn't be off the grid like this. He would still see his family, and he isn't doing any of that. If what Brad did to Harlow's father is any indication of what he is capable of, then yes. Either he is still out there looking, or he has found her and is waiting for the right moment. Paul told me it wasn't easy finding anything on Harlow, either. It's because she went off the grid too. That's why you couldn't find any information on the web about her—there's nothing in her name. However, it's just a matter of time. If Brad happens to track her parents down, or he remembers anything about friends or family she might've mentioned when they were together, he can find her that way as well. He's biding his time until the time is right. Then he will make his move, and we'll be ready for him."

"I hope to God you are right. I can't imagine what Harlow's been going through the last five years."

I stand to leave. "We'll get him. It's just a matter of time."

"Thanks, Mitchell. I appreciate your help on this."

"What are friends for, Beck? I'll let you know if I find anything."

I walk out and close the door behind me.
I walk back out to the reception desk. Raven is sitting down when I approach. I lean on the desk and look her in the eyes. Shit, I haven't dated in years, not since I came home.

She smiles up at me as if waiting for my question. "It's just like riding a bike. At first, it's a little shaky, but once you start, you get your balance."

I tilt my head, looking at her. It's as if she knows what I am thinking, so I start to speak, but my words come out in a whisper. "Raven, if you're not involved with anyone, I would love to take you out sometime." I feel lightheaded.

Raven stands up, leans over, and whispers in my ear, "Breathe, Toby. Breathe." I hadn't even realized I was holding my breath. With her head still by my ear, I can feel her smile against my neck. I close my eyes as I breathe in her scent. "I would love to go out with you, Toby."

Then she nips my earlobe and licks it.
Fuck me. I instantly get hard. She pulls away, looking up at me through her thick black lashes and smiles as she runs her tongue over her bottom lip. Again... Fuuuck.

"May I see your phone?" she asks. I hand her my phone. Shit, I just handed a stranger my phone. What the hell? She puts her contact info into my phone and calls herself.

"Thank you, I'll give you a call." I turn and walk out. I can't believe I didn't say anything else to her. I just turn and walk out.

I have so many things running through my mind and body. My body never reacts to a woman like that. Then again, I haven't ever asked anyone out with the intention of dating before, either.

When I was in the Marines, I never wanted to get into a relationship with anyone just in case I didn't come home or only part of me came home, like Michaels. The last thing I want is my woman to feel obligated to stay with me.

When I did get home, I didn't think about relationships because I was too wrapped up in self-loathing to worry about anything long term. I found people who were only interested in the physical act and nothing more. That was easy. I didn't have time for relationships.

However, Raven, she's different. Why? I don't know. Just the way she struck me, which is so not typical. This is different. What is it about her that makes her different from all the other women? I don't even know her.