Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

5. Eden

FIVE

EDEN

Life is a series of choices. Some are easier made than others. Some take days or weeks or even years of contemplation, while others are made in a split second. Some are destined to be mistakes and others are made of sound judgement and mind. Fueled by wisdom and foresight and discernment.

Black and white.

But sometimes?

Sometimes they are grayed. Blurred. Obscured in a hazy cloud of smoke.

Vapors and mist and uncertainty.

That’s exactly what it felt like as I slipped into the murky shadows of the hall outside the dressing room where I’d just placed my bag into a locker and pulled a clean apron over the jeans and tee I’d opted for as attire tonight.

I felt as if I were stepping into uncertainty.

Into a different world where I didn’t know the rules. Where I questioned the unsteady terrain on which I traveled.

Or maybe subconsciously I knew full well I was making a mistake by following this path. That I was begging for trouble.

Maybe I sensed it as a premonition as I edged down the confined passageway toward the kitchen. An omen that whipped and whirred through the dense, thickened air that held fast to the cramped quarters of the hall.

I was standing at a clear line where I had to make a choice. Keep moving forward or turn and run.

I supposed I was the fool who continued to edge toward that destiny.

I was almost to the turn that hooked into the kitchen when I felt the dark presence emerge from behind.

As if he’d felt me pass by his office.

Or maybe he’d just been watching.

Waiting.

The hunter who wanted to play with his prey before he went in for the kill.

My heart skittered and my flesh prickled, and I inhaled a shaky breath as I slowed and turned around.

Trent Lawson hovered at the doorway of his office, those sooty eyes taking me in like he wanted to see deep inside. Sift through my makeup.

More than likely, he’d read everything written inside, anyway. Had already picked up on the scent of who I was. Smelled the desperation. Sensed the vulnerability.

But the thing about vulnerability? It didn’t always make you weak. Sometimes the only thing it did was make you fight harder. Make you more determined to go after what you needed in your life.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t little Miss Murphy .” He tsked it like it were a sin. “You came, after all.”

My chin lifted in defiance. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

He chuckled a rough sound and moved to lean against the wall outside his door. He stuffed those tattooed hands into his pockets and slung himself back so nonchalantly that one might mistake him for blameless. But I wasn’t fool enough to believe he wouldn’t strike at any second.

“I would have thought you’d think it a…conflict of interest.” His head cocked to the side.

I tried to ignore the way my heart raced, thrumming so hard it had to be a palpable thing. “Conflict of interest?”

Undeniably, him coming at me this way was the conflict of interest . The dude was my boss. Clearly, he didn’t give a crap about that.

I got the sense he didn’t just ignore the rules, he made his own.

Coarse assumption flowed from his wicked mouth. “I have to admit I was shocked to see you standing with my son’s hand in yours when I rolled up this afternoon, but I shouldn’t have been, should have I? A place like that is exactly where you belong.”

Just like I’d known he would, he struck. Only it was slow. Like a wolf stalking…prowling…slowly stealing in closer until its target was cornered.

Nowhere to go.

My back hit the wall, and he was right there, invading my space, the man pure masculinity and greed.

Energy crackled.

A seething intensity that lashed through the air.

I inhaled a shocked breath, a mistake because the only thing it achieved was a rush of his essence sucked deep into my aching lungs.

Leather and nutmeg and the faint vestiges of cigarette smoke.

Only a fool would have the urge to lean closer and inhale.

But I did.

I had the sudden desire to press my nose to his hot flesh. To drag it up his throat over the tattoo etched there—a baby owl in full flight, its wings stretched wide around his neck, though its face was a disfigured skull.

My fingers itched with the need to trace it.

There had to be something wrong with me.

But I couldn’t help it.

The way my eyes traveled, so close, unable to stop myself from devouring as much of the exposed skin as I could.

Tonight, his tee dipped low enough that I could make out the words hidden in the whorl of colors and designs on his chest—Live to Ride, Ride to Die.

My mind spun, no clue why I felt compelled to understand. Why I wanted to ask him to explain. Who he was and why he was. How this hardened, terrifying man was the father to that adorable little boy. And why I cared so much.

I’d only met him yesterday, and the few interactions had already left me caught up. Swept away in a torrent.

“Aren’t I right, Miss Murphy?” He angled in closer, his voice dropping to a lure. “You’re meant to be there…with those children. Amid all that innocence.”

His lips were suddenly at my jaw.

Touching.

Igniting.

Destroying something inside me.

Chills streaked, and my head rocked back as sensation rushed across my skin and desire leapt in my belly.

Those lips murmured the words like an accusation as he ran them up to my ear. “I bet you even teach Sunday School.”

God.

What a dick.

I forced myself to pull back. “And what if I do?”

I totally did.

But I didn’t owe him a single explanation. Funny, how I wanted one from him.

Trent chuckled a menacing sound. “It would prove exactly what I’d recognized about you the second I saw you last night. You don’t belong here.”

I crossed my arms over my chest to put some space between us. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“One look at you, and I know everything I need to know.”

“What is your freaking problem?” I hissed.

He shocked me by suddenly moving to the other side of the hall, taking my breath with him as he went. He propped his back against the wall, smirking the whole time.

Even with the three feet separating us, he filled the space. Everything about him overwhelming.

Intoxicating.

I knew better than letting myself get drunk on this man.

“My problem? Not the one with a problem here. I’m doing you a solid, Kitten.”

“Wow, aren’t you ever the knight in shining armor?”

He scraped out a raw laugh. “Nah, not even close, but for you, I just might try.”

Was he serious? I had no doubt this guy would gladly rip me to shreds.

He roughed a hand through the longer pieces of his black hair, and for the first time, something genuine filled his tone. “Listen…this isn’t a good place, Eden.”

The air shifted, and I swore I saw the slightest edge of vulnerability slip into his features, and I found myself digging again. “And you’re not a good man?”

There was no missing the bare truth of the question.

Another of my sicknesses claimed by Tessa. I dug around to find the good bits in everyone. Believed it was there. That we all had something to offer, no matter what we’d done in our pasts.

And I felt desperate to find his.

His voice twisted into a threat, that moment of softness stiffening to steel. “What do you think, Miss Murphy?”

“I think we’ve all made mistakes, Mr. Lawson.”

His nostrils flared, and he was moving again, edging my direction, eclipsing me in his towering frame. He stopped right before he plastered his body against mine, and he angled in so close our noses almost touched.

That energy sizzled.

“Tell me, is it a mistake if you make the choice to do it, again and again? If the sins you’ve committed make up the foundation of your life? If they make you who you are?”

Involuntarily…instinctively…stupidly—I didn’t know—I reached out and let my fingertips flutter over the words imprinted on his chest.

“Are you…a biker?”

Like, a real biker? Was this bar a front? Doubt and fear thrashed and boomed, banging through my brain in a flashfire of warnings while I stood staring up at him as if the question had been a plea.

A shuddered breath left him.

A moment held.

Then he reached out and snatched me by the wrist as if it took him those stilled seconds to realize I was trying to dip my fingers inside and discover a little of who he was, the same way as I could feel him doing to me.

Fury filled his expression. “What do you think you’re doing?”

My head shook, and the words left me like confusion. “I honestly don’t know.”

Severity twisted his brow, and his fierce jaw ticked in restraint. In need. In dark desperation. “You should stay away from me,” he growled.

“Should I?” It was out before I could stop it. But I knew there was something there. Something unseen. Something I could feel pulsating in the atmosphere that I’d never felt before.

It stretched between us.

Keening and alive.

Something my spirit warned would ruin me in the end.

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

Gathering my courage, I asked, “Then why is it you have me pinned to the wall?”

“Ah…” A single fingertip trailed down the angle of my face, and he was watching me with those eyes, devouring the way a shiver raced across my skin.

Trent tipped his head to the side, raven hair pitching that way. “Now that is the question, isn’t it? Why I couldn’t look away from you from the start. Why once you were outta sight, I still went to bed thinking about you. Wondering just how soft your skin might be.” His mouth moved closer to my ear. “Wondering how you’d taste.”

He edged back again. “Guess it makes me the fool who woke up this morning still wondering the same.”

Attraction.

It flickered and flared.

A vapid dance in the heated air.

It was such a terrible idea. Giving in to whatever this was would be a crime. A choice I knew full well I shouldn’t make.

Black and white.

But I felt it.

Desire.

And for me, that was a miracle. My own impossibility.

“You’re a dad.” It came out softer than it should as Gage’s sweet face filled my mind.

With a child like that? I refused to believe this man was only carved of wickedness and greed.

Affection left him on a breath. “Yeah.”

“Gage…” His name heaved out of me like a stone. Like a prayer. I guessed that was exactly what it was. “He’s…”

I’d felt a connection to the child immediately. In an intrinsic way. In a way that I should ignore.

“Adorable? A handful? Sweetest fuckin’ thing you’ve ever seen?” Trent said each one like he was checking off the child’s list of As, the slightest smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Sweet. Sweet. Sweet.

My heart fluttered in an entirely different way.

God, I really was traversing dangerous ground.

“He is,” I murmured, a smile of my own threatening my lips. “Probably one of the sweetest, most adorable children I’ve ever met.”

“Only good part of me.” He said it like he’d heard me ask the question aloud. Saw it written all over me.

“It seems he sees many good things in you.”

Trent scoffed out a rough chuckle. “Kid’s always singing my praises.”

I glanced away before I brought my gaze back to his handsome face. “Are you…”—I gulped before I forced it out—“…married?”

I realized I was shaking. My breath locked in my throat, terrified of what he might tell me.

Trent grunted, angling back just a fraction so I could meet the brutal expression on his face. “Look married to you?”

My teeth clamped down on my bottom lip. Was I supposed to answer that?

He shook his head a little. “Only commitment I’ve got is to that kid. To this club. To my brothers. Ends there.”

Right.

Okay.

It was another warning.

It also felt a whole lot like a rejection.

I blinked, trying to process what I was feeling.

This tingling in my belly. This fullness in my chest.

Was that what this was? Did I…want him? Did I want him to touch me? Want to touch him? For the sake of what? Dipping my fingers into forbidden waters? To experience something unlike I’d ever experienced before?

To sate the feeling that suddenly washed through me?

Something that was hot and sticky and twisted my stomach into a thousand knots. A feeling I hadn’t felt in so long.

A flash of guilt clutched me. Admitting it to myself felt wrong, but if I were being honest, it was something I’d never experienced before. Never before had I felt something as powerful, as inescapable, as this.

I gasped a little under the pressure of it. With the shivers that raced down my spine and spread down to throb between my thighs as he edged an inch closer.

Nothing but man towering over me.

Trent chuckled. Dark and deep. As if he’d witnessed every thought that had played out in my mind.

He reached out and stroked the pad of his thumb down the length of my cheek. “Ah, playing with fire again.”

My jaw dropped open at his touch, and he went to brushing that thumb across my bottom lip.

Fire.

Flames.

“So fuckin’ sweet,” he whispered. Those ashen eyes sparked, black flames that searched me in the night. We got held there. Just…staring at each other.

Want.

Need.

Fear.

I saw it in the fraction of a second, gone when he ripped himself away and every line of his gorgeous face went rigid. Pure, unrelenting steel. “You should get to work.”

Cold ice slicked down my spine, and my knees nearly buckled with the sudden change in his demeanor.

My chest squeezed tight.

Tied in hurt and confusion.

When he started to edge back, I reached out and grabbed him by the wrist. A fool. A fool. But I couldn’t help the way my entire body felt as if it’d come alive.

Sparked into existence after I’d been numbed into nothingness for so long.

“I…don’t understand.”

He wrung himself out of my hold and held his arms up at his sides. “Not much to understand, Kitten. I’m a bad guy and you’re a good girl. You’d do well to keep your space. Simple as that.”

My head shook. “It doesn’t feel so simple to me.”

Grimness lined his lips. “Have a way of turning pretty things ugly.”

Another warning.

Though this one rang with regret.

My attention darted left to right, to the ground, before I forced myself to look back at him. Unsure of his life, but sure it was dirty, unsure why I couldn’t seem to keep myself from delving farther.

Searching for a way inside.

“Does that apply to Gage? Do you think you’re a danger to him? That you could hurt him?”

I didn’t even care that my voice shook when I asked it. My students would always be my first priority. But I knew with Gage, it was more than that. That feeling that had taken me over the first time I’d seen him sitting in his tiny desk in the front row.

In a flash, the wolf struck. Trent pinned me to the wall. My palms flew behind me to keep me steady.

His hands were planted on either side of my head, and the entirety of his being vibrated with brutality.

Caging me in. A vicious, obliterating force.

The words that fell from his mouth were daggers. “Am I a danger to him? Miss Murphy…make no mistake…anyone who even thinks about hurting that child? There isn’t a soul on this Earth who could save them from me. From the pain I would inflict. From the hole where their body would lie. The only danger is to them.”

My throat tightened, and I struggled to swallow around the lump that gathered thick.

My knees knocked with the clear implication.

I knew most parents would easily claim it. Claim they would destroy anyone who hurt their child. It was only normal to want vengeance if they were faced with that horrible circumstance.

With Trent Lawson? It was clear it was no idle threat or exaggeration.

This man had blood on his hands.

I could smell it.

Taste it.

Felt it radiating around him.

An aura of iniquity.

“I pray neither of you are ever put in that position.” I meant it.

Stepping back, he released me, but not from the snare of his spirit. Our gazes were a tangle of questions as those fiery eyes glowed and glinted, calling me deeper.

Deeper and deeper.

“You really should go home.” That time, he was pleading with me.

I swallowed around the emotions locked in my throat and gave him my own truth. “You’re not the only one who has trouble in their life, Mr. Lawson. You’re not the only one who would do whatever it takes to protect their family.”

I had to wonder if we were really any different at all. If we were all only trying to figure out how to give those we loved the hope they deserved.

Harshly, he searched my face, as if he were looking for a lie. “That what this is? You need money…for your family?”

My nod was jerky.

His lips curled in distaste. “You married?”

Grief trembled, that empty space howling its sorrow. Closing it off, I angled my head to the side, my voice soft surrender as I turned his words back on him. “Do I look married to you?”

Only my commitments ran deep. My promises. My love. My soul’s innermost ache.

He wavered in the moment, like he was going to ask me why before he seemed to come to a resolution. He nodded. “Okay, then.”

Forcing a brittle smile, he stepped back.

It was as if he had made the decision to put a wall between us. Neither cold nor hot. Indifferent.

It left me feeling as if I’d just been tossed ashore after being drowned in turbulent, tormented waves.

Floundering and coughing and searching for air.

I stared at him for a beat.

At his beauty.

At his intensity.

At this man who for the first time in years made me want to look closer.

My spirit warned I might not like what was written inside.

It didn’t matter.

That hunger had lit.

A hunger I would never act on. Would never be so reckless. I knew full well my heart would never recover from the kind of breaking this man would bring.

But I guessed…I guessed I relished in the idea—in the feeling—in the simple fact he made me feel alive for the first time in so long.

“Thank you, Mr. Lawson. Truly. I needed this job.”

Peeling myself from the wall, I forced myself to turn and start toward the kitchen.

“Kitten.”

That ridiculous nickname coming from his tongue wrapped me like a sinful caress, and I stopped moving, but didn’t turn around.

“Your probationary period is over. Go change. You’ll start training as a cocktail server tonight.”

At that, I whirled around. “What?”

Trent cocked that arrogant grin. “Everyone starts off washing dishes here. Didn’t you know?”

Then he spun on his heel and disappeared into his office, slamming the door shut behind him.

I just stood there.

Stunned and confused and grateful.

My heart in my throat and my head spinning.

Whiplash.