Redemption Hills: The Complete Collection

35. Trent

THIRTY-FIVE

TRENT

LOS ANGELES, SIX YEARS AGO

Wind whipped through the barren, broken streets of the city, and hazy lights burned down through the heavy clouds that sagged in the night.

Los Angeles.

A cesspool of greed and corruption and wickedness.

Trent wondered if he could really outrun it. Flee from it. Become someone better than the monster that roamed these streets.

His bike grumbled as he slowed and pulled into the deserted lot of the warehouse at the slummy end of the docks. He killed his bike, his eyes keen as he took in the vacancy. As he peered through the howl of the wind that gusted, kicking up debris and trash that tumbled along the pitted ground.

His heart rate accelerated a notch. Not that it didn’t every time he showed for a job.

An exchange.

An observer.

An executor if the need arose.

The life he hated.

One he was leaving behind.

His chest stretched tight with the thought. With the possibility. With something new. A chance he’d never thought he’d be given.

He figured that might have been why there was an extra dose of unease that thudded through his veins as he slipped through the chaotic quiet toward the double, sliding metal doors.

One last job.

One last job.

He stilled a fraction as he heard the roar of an engine come blazing down the deserted street. Felt the fear and the disorder that blistered through the air. A connection that stretched tight.

Pulling and pulling.

That bond that screamed.

He whirled around just as a motorcycle flew around the corner and into the lot.

Careless and reckless.

Nathan.

Trent’s entire being lurched. A compulsion to get in front of his twin.

Protect and provide and keep.

Nathan braked hard, and the back tire fishtailed as he skidded to a stop. He jumped off the bike, dumping it to its side, shouting as he ran across the lot toward Trent. “Trent! Stop! It’s a trap. A fucking trap. Juna. It was Juna and Dad. They set you up. He knows we’re leaving. He knows.”

Agony shredded through Trent.

His father.

That bitch.

That fucking bitch.

Trent started to run in Nathan’s direction to head him off. To stop him before he got in the middle of it.

He made it two steps before a hail of gunshots rang out from the blacked-out windows of the metal building.

Trent stumbled and jumped behind a metal crate, screaming, “Get down! Nathan, get down. Take cover.”

Panic lanced. Spears and stakes. Trent grabbed both guns, one from his belt and the other from his boot.

From behind the crate, he fired.

Shot after shot.

“Nathan, get down! Get down!” he kept shouting. “Find cover and stay down.”

Screams and shouts rang and ricocheted and pierced.

A barrage of bullets.

A flurry of confusion.

From that spot, he took down two in different windows.

Two assholes came racing out from the main door.

Trent pushed to his feet. Happily a shield for his brother. He fired and fired.

One fell. The second after him.

Another man dressed in all black came running out from the backside of the building.

Trent took aim.

Cold cruelty seeped through his veins. That numbness that always came.

The ruthless monster sent to slay.

Ghost.

Ghost.

Ghost.

Trent walked backward, firing as he made a barricade between himself and his twin brother.

Trent took every motherfucker out.

Silence fell at the same time as the last man.

Fury in his hands and horror in his heart.

Nathan.

He whirled around just as a bolt of thunder cracked and a torrent of rain poured from the turbulent sky.

Fear clutched his throat when he saw the crumpled pile at the far end of the lot.

“No. Nathan! No.” Trent staggered forward, tried to move, to get his legs to cooperate, before he began to run.

Running toward the devastation.

The ground was pitted and cracked.

He swore, there was a crater through the middle.

Everything slowed, and he felt the world come off its hinges, splitting in two.

While the sky spun.

Spun and spun.

His mind and his soul.

He was confused.

Disoriented.

Because it was wrong.

So wrong.

Trent’s sight was blurred and bleary as he searched through the haze and the smoke.

Desperate.

Frantic.

There was no cover where he dropped to his knees at his twin’s side. No safeguard. No protection. Not a fuckin’ thing he could do.

A sob ripped up his throat as he rolled him over.

Trent searched Nathan’s chest. Blood covered his hands. The rain washed it away only for it to soak them again.

Tainting.

Destroying.

Wrong.

So wrong.

“No. No. No,” trembled from Trent’s mouth. “No, Nathan, no. Please. Oh God, please.”

Trent pressed hard against the wounds scattered over his brother’s chest. Like he could reach inside and stop it, take it away, keep it for himself the way it was supposed to be.

“No, Nathan,” Trent choked. “Nathan. No. Fuck. Please. Why? Please. Why? Please, no.”

Eyes full of fear searched Trent in the night, wide with shock and terror as blood poured out of his mouth.

His hand grappled for Trent’s shirt, dragging him close, the words a gurgled rasp at Trent’s ear. “One reason. One reason.”

Tears streaked Trent’s cheeks, burns where the wind lashed at his face. Agony slashed. Cutting him in two.

Nathan slumped down, his soul released. With it, Trent felt a piece of himself float away.

Trent lifted his face to the heavens and screamed before rage took a rebound and he stood.

He strode through the driving rain.

One reason.

He passed by the bodies he’d left littered on the ground, in search of the only one that mattered.

Both guns were raised as he stepped into the warehouse. Shadows eclipsed, only the barest light filtering through as the rain pelted at the metal.

Deafening.

Or maybe it was the hatred that had filled his soul.

He moved.

Searched.

Hunted.

The hairs lifted at Trent’s nape when he felt the movement to the side, and he whirled that direction.

Cutter.

That motherfucker who was supposed to be their father.

“You thought I’d just let you leave?” Cutter said, a gun drawn. Hatred blanketed his face, clear in the shadows, as clear as the fear Trent could feel radiating from the bastard’s pores.

Asshole was afraid.

He fuckin’ should be.

“You thought I’d just let you walk?” Cutter sneered. “Turn your back? Take your brothers? You thought wrong.”

Fury ground Trent’s teeth, though they chattered with agony.

With sorrow.

With the missing piece.

“You piece of shit. They killed Nathan. He was innocent.”

“He shouldn’t have gotten in the way. Just needed that slut to confirm what I’d thought so I could get rid of the weak link. You.”

Hatred burned.

“You killed Nathan.” Trent’s teeth ground.

“Nah, his blood is on you. You’re the one who went outta bounds, VP. You forget everything I taught you about loyalty? About who you are?”

Torment twisted. Hammered like the deluge that poured from the sky. Violence bled from his being.

Trent scented it. Cutter’s fear. The way he kept looking over Trent’s shoulder.

“They’re all dead,” Trent said, so cool, so calm. “Just you and me, asshole.”

Trent dove behind a wooden box when Cutter fired. Dust blew, the sound of the shot piercing Trent’s ears. He scrambled around in time to see Cutter duck and run.

Fucker thought he was gonna get away.

The pussy coward dipped deeper into the shadows.

Trent chased after him, jumping behind crates as Cutter kept firing over his shoulder. Through the sound of the driving rain, a door clattered open at the back.

Trent followed.

Cutter fired.

A bullet struck Trent’s arm.

He didn’t slow. Didn’t feel. Didn’t care.

He stalked forward, to the edge of the water where Cutter stood.

Cutter lifted his gun and pointed it at Trent. “You’re no son of mine.”

“Thank fuck.”

Trent pulled his trigger before Cutter got the chance.

The shot rang out, and Trent stood there with his arm still lifted as the gun dropped from Cutter’s hand. As the man clutched at the side of his neck where he’d been hit.

One reason.

One reason.

That was all Trent had.

And he wouldn’t let this scum threaten that.

Trent watched as Cutter fell backward into the water.

It was the first time he’d pulled the trigger and felt no shame. No remorse. Not an ounce of it for the man whose blood ran through his veins.

He stood there staring as the sky wept around him.

As the realization that he’d failed his mom came crashing down.

He’d lost her.

Had lost Nathan.

And he knew there was no forgiveness for a sinner like him.

His soul cast to Hell.

Sorrow ripped through him. Knives and blades.

He only had one reason not to chase it down right then. One reason not to welcome his fate.

One reason to breathe.

One reason to live.

And Trent would live it for him.