Redeemed (Ruined and Redeemed Duet Book 2) by Marie Johnston

Author:Marie Johnston [Johnston, Marie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: LE Publishing
Published: 2020-05-10T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Jacobi

Kase shows up at ten in the morning. I have a giant contract to finish with the biggest oil company in the nation that I haven’t started on because I swam twice the distance I normally do, stood under the shower spray for three times as long as usual, and then stared at the background of my computer screen for the last hour.

It’s been like this for weeks.

Kase gives me an excuse to shut the monitor off.

He barges through the front door. “I fucking found him.” His voice echoes through the house and I fly to the top of the stairs.

Energy infuses my body. “Sully?”

“Yes. The sister’s been emailing her friends. She’s worried sick about him and what he’s up to with his drug dealer of a girlfriend.”

“Let’s go.”

He holds up a hand. “First, we talk about what exactly we’re going to do. If I’m in this with you, we aren’t barging in with our big dicks swinging and asking what the hell he’s doing.”

“Why not?”

“Because my big dick sticks to the shadows. I don’t need my name and face getting thrown around or that I deal with petty guys like Sully.”

“You can stay in the car.”

“I also don’t need you getting plugged with a couple of forties.”

“Fine, whatever you think is best. I’m going to get changed.” Since Kase is wearing black jeans and a black T-shirt, I go for the same outfit. We’ll stand out looking like some Matrix thugs in the middle of the damn day, but I can’t wear board shorts and a tan. At least I shaved this morning during my marathon shower.

If I let my scruff grow out, I’ll feel London’s fingers trailing through it.

I rush down the stairs and Kase automatically follows me to the garage. He’s helping me, and I’ll be damned if he goes down for anything I’m doing.

Besides, Sully is mine. If he runs and I have to hunt him down, it’s my fender on the line, not Kase’s.

He gives me directions, and as I weave through the streets, the buildings get older and increasingly run-down.

Kase peers out the window. “This looks more like where I grew up.”

“I thought your parents made bank.” Fixers usually need a lot of money to keep things covered up—and to keep quiet.

“White picket fences and gated communities grow pussies.” He rattled it off like it’s a family motto.

“So you guys were millionaires and lived in the projects?”

“If I couldn’t take care of myself here, then I couldn’t go into the family business. Our vacations were baller though.”

I try to picture it, growing up like I did but in reality, having a shitload of money. I can’t. As soon as I saw the light of making bank, I made as much as I could to buy my little slice of private life.

Kase points up ahead. “It’s the next block over. Turn the corner and park.”

I do as he says, deferring to his expertise. He was probably staking out targets when he was still in diapers.

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