Текст книги "Redemption: A Stepbrother Romance"
Автор книги: Jessica Ashe
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REDEMPTION
Copyright © 2015 Jessica Ashe
Redemption is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons or their likeness is entirely coincidental.
This book contains mature content, including graphic sex scenes and adult language. Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this content is likely to offend you.
All characters in the book are 18+ years of age, not blood related, and all sexual acts are consensual.
All Rights Reserved.
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Escape
Score
Redemption
Redemption tells the story of Oliver and Michelle. Oliver is English and therefore his chapters are written with British English spelling and idioms. Conversely, Michelle is American and therefore her chapters are written with American English spelling and idioms.
Table of Contents
Dedication
Mailing List
Books by Jessica Ashe
A Note on Language
Table of Contents
Part One
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Interlude One
Part Two
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Interlude Two
Part Three
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Interlude Three
Part Four
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Reviews
Mailing List
Escape
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
About the Author
I made it twenty minutes into the game before a guy sat next to me in the stands and made a bad attempt at chatting me up.
“You come here often?” the man asked.
“No,” I lied. “I just stopped by because it looked like a good place to pick up men.”
Large sunglasses shielded my eyes, but he should still have picked up on the heavy notes of sarcasm in my voice. Apparently not. He looked clueless as to how to respond; with any luck he would just give up and go back to his friends.
I wasn’t in the mood for his type this afternoon. Today was my sister Maisie’s last rugby game of the season, and it coincided with the tortuous humidity that always swept through Northern Virginia in late April and lasted all the way through the summer.
I hated humidity and it hated me. I hadn’t moved a muscle the entire game, and yet sweat still dripped down my back at a ferocious pace. It didn’t help that I had to wear a sweater to keep the scar on my upper arm covered up.
“Do you want me to explain the rules of rugby?” the man asked. “It’s a complicated sport, but it’s a lot of fun when you know what’s going on.”
I’d been watching my sister play rugby for the last five years—I knew the rules better than most people at this point. The referee blew his whistle and awarded a scrum to my sister’s team.
“That was for a knock-on,” he said, oblivious to my silence and disinterest. “You’re not allowed to play the ball forward in rugby.”
“Actually, the referee awarded a penalty for an offside and the Chasers chose to take a scrum. The player came in from the side on the maul.”
“Oh,” he said, an embarrassed look appearing on his face. He now knew this might not be quite as easy as he first thought.
The scrum-half received the ball from the scrum and sent it out wide to the hooker, who then passed the ball sideways again to my sister. No matter how many times I’d watched her play, the hairs on the back of my neck still stood on end when she received the ball in these positions.
Maisie had a blistering pace, and she soon set off on one of her runs. Unfortunately, by this point in the game the opposition team knew how fast she could run, and that meant their one goal became taking her down.
My sister insisted on playing with the boys and didn’t want anyone to take it easy on her; the opposing team was only too happy to oblige.
I forced my eyes to stay open as one fourteen-year-old boy ran in from the side. He headed straight for her, but Maisie checked her run and easily sailed past him. She wasn’t so lucky with the second tackle.
A boy grabbed her around the waist and brought her down with him as they both went crashing to the floor. Maisie quickly turned on the ground and released the ball so as not to give away a foul.
“I don’t know why they let her play,” my admirer said. “She should play on a girl’s team.”
“There aren’t any girls’ teams,” I replied. “Besides, if she’s good enough then I don’t see why she shouldn’t play.”
“Just doesn’t seem right. I know if I was out there on the pitch, I wouldn’t be able to tackle a girl. It just doesn’t seem right.”
“How noble of you.”
My reluctance to get up and move was fast being overcome by this asshole’s mind-numbing conversation. Had I been this stupid and immature at nineteen? The five years between us felt like a lifetime right now.
“You want anything to drink?” he asked. “They don’t serve alcohol here unfortunately, but if you want a soft drink or something let me know.”
He wouldn’t be able to buy alcohol even if they did serve it. “Actually, I’m going to leave now.” I stood up and looked for another spot in the shade.
“Listen, how about we…” The second his hand touched my upper arm, I spun around, grabbed his wrist, and twisted him round by the arm. He let out a cry and everyone turned to stare at us.
“Don’t touch me,” I said calmly.
“Okay, okay.”
I let go and the man returned to his friends. I didn’t want to deal with all the parents talking about me, so I moved over to the opposite side of the field. The guy’s friends teased him for striking out, and I heard him mutter something about me being a lesbian.
Maisie didn’t appear to have noticed the little display I put on, although no doubt she’d hear about it at the end of the game. She always accused me of being too tense and uptight, so I was bound to get another lecture on “loosening up.” Just what I wanted from my little sister.
Maisie’s team won—as they usually did—and she had a great game by anyone’s standards, let alone “for a girl.” She scored two tries and played a major part in two more with her pace down the flanks.
By this point, word had gotten around about the Chasers having a girl on the team, so her opponents didn’t go through that awkward fifteen-minute period where they debated whether or not they could tackle her. Or rather, try to tackle her, because for the most part she might have been covered in grease judging by her opponents’ attempts to drag her to the ground.
The main problem with Maisie playing so well was that it brought out the worst in the parents. They did not like seeing their little princes get schooled by a girl.
I heard one parent comment on how he “would be afraid to tackle a girl with a face like that” and it took all my strength not to go over and punch him. I’d done that before, but Maisie hated it. She insisted that she didn’t care about the burns covering her face, and so neither should I. Easier said than done though, especially when those burns were my fault.
Despite her protests, Maisie wasn’t allowed to go into the changing rooms after the games until all the boys had left. She couldn’t have cared less about getting changed in front of guys, but the organizers insisted the changing rooms not be mixed.
Maisie usually came over to talk to me at the end of games while we waited for the changing room to empty, but on her way over to me she was approached by a man who had been watching the game from the front row. I slowly walked down to see what was going on and saw the man hand Maisie a business card.
The overprotective big sister in me didn’t like the look of this, but Maisie seemed delighted. I tried to relax; the man didn’t touch her and he was talking to her in full view of over a hundred people. Maisie caught me standing there and subtly shooed me away with her hand while she kept talking to the man.
Maisie might only be fourteen, but she’d been through a lot in those fourteen years. She wasn’t naive in the slightest. I backed off and sat down in the stand to wait.
By the time Maisie finished speaking to the man, the changing rooms were free, so she got changed and came back out ten minutes later having put on some new clothes. She hadn’t bothered showering though.
“Are you going to tell me what all that was about?” I asked, as she came bouncing up to me. She had a remarkable amount of energy for someone who had just finished eighty minutes of rugby.
“Once we get in the car,” she replied. “I don’t want anyone to overhear.”
I cringed as Maisie threw her dirty cleats on the floor of my car and proceeded to drop bits of mud all over the place. It’s not like my car was clean at the best of times, but Maisie certainly didn’t help matters.
“He’s a scout,” Maisie said, the second we pulled out onto the road. “He watched the game today and I must have impressed him because he wants me to join a rugby summer camp.”
“You’ve done them before,” I said. Maisie always chose summer camps based on whether or not they offered the chance to play rugby. Given that rugby was basically insignificant in the US, she often had to go halfway across the country to find one that she liked.
“But this one is special. It’s specifically for girls.”
“You’d hate that. You love playing with the guys.”
“I know, but it’s specifically to boost the popularity of the girls’ game. He’s recruiting the best female players and getting them together for the summer. There’s going to be tournaments and everything.”
The man wasn’t a scout; he was a salesman. No doubt there would be a substantial fee for the camp, and even though Maisie was a great player, he was probably inviting ever female rugby player in the country to maximize the money.
“And how much is this going to cost?” I asked. “We aren’t exactly flush with cash at the moment.”
Mom didn’t work these days—or do much of anything—and my money only just stretched to paying for Maisie to be a part of the rugby team. Summer camps often required us to take out a short term loan, and this one sounded expensive.
“He said it was completely free,” Maisie said. “They even cover expenses.” I turned quickly to look at her and saw a huge grin stretching from ear to ear. I didn’t care about the burn marks on her face; that girl was truly beautiful when she smiled.
“This doesn’t sound right, sis. Why would some organization pay all that money to promote girls’ rugby when boys’ rugby needs promotion as well? The entire game is largely ignored in the US.”
“It’s not in the US,” Maisie replied casually. “The summer camp is in England.”
“England?”
“Yes. You remember, that country on the other side of the Atlantic Ocean where our dad lives.”
“Thank you for the reminder. I meant, why is someone from England over here to scout for you?”
“He’s from the England Rugby set up, and they’re looking for players from all over the world to play the game. I don’t know how he found me, but I’m not about to complain. You’re not going to go all ‘big sister’ on me, are you?”
Maisie knew my response to things like this was to be sensible—which in her eyes meant boring—but I couldn’t help it. Maisie tended to operate at a mile a minute, so if I didn’t hold her back once in a while there would be chaos.
“It sounds like an exciting opportunity,” I said softly.
“But…”
“But you’ll have to get Mom’s approval and that won’t be easy. Not after what happened last time we were in England.”
“That was eight years ago.”
“And we haven’t gone back since. I’m just saying, don’t get your hopes up just yet, okay?”
“Will you tell her it’s a good idea? You know she listens to you.”
I paused while concentrating on merging onto the highway, but I could sense Maisie getting desperate for a response.
“I want to check out this scout who gave you his card,” I replied. “If he is who he says he is then maybe I will recommend you go.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” Maisie said, practically jumping up and down in her seat. Not for the first time, I wished I had half of her energy and general enthusiasm for life.
“I said maybe.”
“Maybe always means yes,” Maisie replied. “I’m going to England. Yay.” She started trying to sing God Save the Queen, but quickly gave up when she realized she only knew the first line.
Mom wasn’t in when we got home, so I had enough time to verify that the scout was actually from England Rugby. Everything checked out based on an online search. I’d look into it more later, but for now it passed the smell test.
Things would be weird without Maisie around for the summer, but it did mean I would have weekends to myself again. I’d had to drop the Saturday self-defense class I taught to drive Maisie to her rugby games; maybe I could start that back up again.
Maisie pounced on Mom the second she walked through the door, taking the shopping bags from her hands and talking quickly, without stopping for breath, about the amazing opportunity she’d been offered for the summer which wouldn’t cost a penny.
“No,” Mom said flatly, when Maisie had finally stopped for breath. “Absolutely not.”
Maisie looked like she’d been slapped. “But Michelle thinks it’s a good idea, don’t you Michelle?”
I took a deep breath. Mom would go with whatever I said and Maisie knew it. If I said no, she’d blame me not Mom. I spent every day of my life trying to make up for my mistake with Maisie eight years ago. The mistake that left her disfigured, with a horrible burn mark on her face. If I denied her this opportunity, then it would set our relationship back years.
“It’s a great opportunity,” I told Mom. “And it would only be for the summer, so it won’t affect her schoolwork.” I turned to look at Maisie who was about to celebrate. “And I’m sure she’ll work hard to improve her grades next year, won’t you, Maisie?”
“Of course,” she said sweetly, before sticking her tongue out at me when Mom wasn’t looking.
“I don’t like the idea of you going back to England,” Mom said. “After what happened there last time…”
“That was just bad luck,” Maisie said. “England is a much safer place than the US. If I’d been attacked here we would have been shot. At least the acid only burned my skin.”
Only burned my skin. I had no idea how Maisie could act so chill about the entire thing. That attack had scarred her for life, and yet she barely gave a second thought about going back to the country where it happened.
“Okay,” Mom said predictably. “But Michelle has to go with you.”
“That’s fine,” Maisie replied instantly.
“Wait, what? I can’t just drop everything and go to England.”
“Then Maisie can’t go,” Mom insisted.
Maisie looked up at me with sad puppy dog eyes and fluttered her eyelashes. “When was the last time you took a vacation?” she asked me. “You need a break.”
“Traveling with you will be anything but a break,” I said, before letting out a long sigh. There was only one way this was going to end, and I suspected Maisie had had the entire thing planned out from the beginning. “Okay, fine, I’ll go.”
I did need some time away and my schedule for the summer didn’t look all that busy. The student bar I worked at was always dead over the summer and they’d already cut my hours. The self-defense courses I taught also had lower numbers, so—while I hated leaving people in the lurch—this was as good a time as any to take a break.
“This is going to be such an awesome summer,” Maisie said, as she pulled out her phone, no doubt texting all her friends. “We can pop in and see Dad if you want.”
“That would be nice,” I replied, with absolutely no enthusiasm.
Neither Maisie nor I wanted to see Dad, but Mom didn’t like us badmouthing him in front of her. Ever since our last visit eight years ago, we’d only ever seen Dad when he’d visited the US, and that was becoming less and less frequent. He wasn’t completely to blame, but I did get the impression that spending time with his children wasn’t high on his list of priorities.
“OMG, maybe we can see Olly as well,” Maisie screamed excitedly. “I still chat to him all the time online. I reckon he’d meet up with us.”
“No,” I replied, far too quickly. “We’re not meeting Oliver. Absolutely not.” Way to play it cool, Michelle.
Maisie still worshipped our stepbrother, but I knew better. She had no idea what a jerk he’d been to me when we’d last spoken eight years ago. As far as Maisie was concerned, Oliver was the hotshot rugby player who’d introduced her to the game when she’d been six years old.
To me, he was the asshole who acted nice one minute and then blamed me for his own fuck ups. I hadn’t seen him in eight years, and I could quite happily go another eight.
“Why not?” Maisie asked, as Mom walked outside for a cigarette. “Don’t tell me you still have a crush on him?”
“Maisie,” I scolded, looking around to make sure Mom hadn’t heard. “Don’t talk like that. He’s our stepbrother.”
“Even as a six-year-old, I picked up on the tension between you two. Besides, he clearly feels the same way about you. He asks about you every time we speak online.”
“He does? Wait, what do you tell him?”
“Don’t worry, I don’t tell him how boring your life is. I pretend you have a social life and go out on dates and things.”
“I do have a… no, I’m not getting another lecture from my little sister. Let’s figure out the logistics of this trip before I change my mind about going with you.”
“You know, using words like ‘logistics’ really takes the fun out of big international adventures. Come on, let’s get online and do some shopping. I need a new summer wardrobe, and you... well, you just need an entirely new wardrobe.”
“Can you believe we’re in first class?” Maisie asked, as she tapped her cup of orange juice against my whiskey.
“No,” I replied. “I can’t.” Nothing about this trip made any sense. Once I decided to join Maisie on the trip, I called England Rugby who confirmed that the scout was real and the entire thing was legitimate. They were fine with me accompanying Maisie, but said I needed to buy my own ticket.
The flight was going to set me back nearly a thousand dollars, but just before I bought the ticket I got a call back from a representative who said that England Rugby would pay for everything. The next thing I knew, we were both booked in first class for a trip to London.
“I knew rugby was a lot bigger in England,” Maisie said, “but this is kind of insane. First class tickets for a fourteen-year-old female player is unheard of.”
“Please don’t go getting your hopes up,” I said, for what must have been the tenth time at least.
“I know, I know. This is just a summer and I’m not suddenly going to become some rich and famous rugby player like Olly.”
“You don’t want to become like Oliver.”
“Just because he made one mistake in the 2007 World Cup Final, doesn’t make him a bad rugby player overnight.”
“That’s not what I meant.” I took a long sip of my whiskey.
Just the mention of Oliver’s name made me need a drink to calm my nerves. Maisie kept insisting we meet up with him at some point, but that would be tough to arrange with Maisie at a training camp all summer and Oliver playing rugby for West London R.F.C.
Maisie started to argue with me, but she knew talking about Oliver annoyed me so she kept quiet. She still owed me for coming along on this trip with her, and that bought me a few minutes of silence.
We were the first off the plane when it landed, and our priority pass took us straight to the front of the line at “Her Majesty’s Customs.” The name sounded a little old-school, but the officers were far more cheerful and pleasant than their contemporaries at the Transportation Security Administration. Mind you, that was like saying Maisie was better than most girls at rugby; true enough, but the bar was set pretty low.
“Business or pleasure, ladies,” the officer asked as he checked our passports.
“Business,” Maisie replied. “I’m here to play rugby.”
The officer frowned—never an expression you wanted to see at Customs. “You’re being paid to play rugby here?”
“No, she’s not,” I said. “She’s here for a summer camp playing rugby.”
“Ah, good. Because otherwise you’d be on the wrong visa. What about you, Ma’am?”
“I’m here to look after her, and make sure she doesn’t get into any trouble.”
“Business then,” the officer joked.
I smiled and took the passports back from the officer and headed to pick up our bags which were first off the plane. Things were going well so far, at least.
Once into the main airport we followed the signs for the taxi stand, until I felt Maisie tugging on my sleeve.
“We have a driver,” Maisie said. “Look.”
Maisie pointed to a man holding up a sign saying ‘Maisie Portman.’ This was getting more ridiculous by the minute.
“You must be Maisie,” the driver said, as we approached. “Pleased to meet you. My name’s Bob and I’ll be your driver.”
I had never gotten the hang of British accents, but Bob sound like he was from London. A local would be able to pinpoint exactly where, but all I knew was that he didn’t sound like Oliver which meant he probably wasn’t from West London.
“Hi Bob,” Maisie said. “This is my sister, Michelle.”
I shook Bob’s hand and asked where we were going.
“Your hotel is about a forty-five-minute drive from here,” Bob replied. “The traffic’s an effin’ disaster at this time of day. Let me take your bags.”
“That’s okay, we can carry our own bags,” I said.
“Don’t be daft. I’m the driver. Besides, wouldn’t be right of me to let two beautiful ladies like you carry your own bags.”
“Thanks, Bob,” Maisie said cheerfully, handing over her bag. I reluctantly followed suit and let Bob lead the way outside, where he took us straight to a waiting limo.
“You’re kidding me,” Maisie exclaimed when she saw it. “We have a limo.”
“You know, at this point, I’m not even surprised.” Everything about this trip was odd.
Maisie jumped in the limo as soon as the door opened. A second later I heard her scream.
This entire time I’d known something was up. The trip seemed too good to be true. If Maisie had been attacked again I’d never be able to forgive myself.
I looked inside the limo and saw Maisie with her arms wrapped around a man on the back seat. He saw me and my eyes locked onto his. I’d recognize those dark green eyes anywhere. He pushed Maisie off him and smiled at me.
“I have a feeling you’re surprised now,” Oliver said, leaning back and crossing his legs. “It’s been a long time, Michelle. So, are you pleased to see me?”
The limo suddenly felt small and claustrophobic, but I stepped inside and let Bob close the door behind me.
Maisie sat down opposite Oliver and I took a seat near her. I should have sat next to him; at least that way I wouldn’t have to look at him. I would have been able to smell him though. He always smelled irresistible, regardless of whether he was going out for the evening or had just finished a game of rugby.
“It’s Olly,” Maisie said, stating the obvious. “Can you believe it? This trip just gets better and better.”
“I’m glad one of you thinks so,” Oliver said. “Your sister doesn’t look so pleased to see me.”
“Ignore her,” Maisie said, clearly already doing just that. “She’s just tired from the trip.”
I wasn’t at all tired. I’d never felt more awake. What was he doing here? It had been eight years. Eight painful, frustrating years without so much as a word from him. Now he was just a few feet away, smiling at me as if we were old friends.
I stared at Oliver in his dark gray suit, with a white shirt, and pink tie. At least this way I couldn’t see his legs. I’d always been unable to resist Oliver’s thighs. They were built like tree trunks and composed entirely of muscle. Most rugby players had strong legs, but Oliver’s still stood out among the crowd.
“Would you like a drink, Michelle?” Oliver asked.
Was that it? ‘Would you like a drink?’ How about ‘sorry for acting like a fucking idiot all those years ago, Michelle?’
“Just a water,” I replied.
Oliver leaned forward with a bottle of water from the cooler in the door, and I took it gingerly by the lid to avoid making contact with Oliver’s hand. Even after all these years, I didn’t trust myself around him. He hadn’t changed much. There was more stubble around his face and his dark brown hair was more disheveled, but he was still the same old Oliver, for better and for worse. Mainly for better.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “I’m going to assume the limo and the first class flight tickets are something to do with you?”
“Yep,” Oliver replied. “Traveling first class helps with the jet lag and I didn’t want you to take a week getting acclimatized.”
“Thought as much.”
“That’s Michelle’s way of saying ‘thank you,’” Maisie added.
I looked away as Oliver smiled at me. I’d rather he think I was just rude, instead of seeing the longing I still had for him in my eyes. Even Maisie had picked up on the way I used to look at him, and she’d only been six at the time. I dreaded to think how obvious it would be now.
“Do you work for England Rugby?” I asked.
“No,” Oliver replied, “but the whole initiative with getting women playing rugby is run in conjunction with my club. I’m kind of an ambassador for the program I suppose.”
“That’s awesome,” Maisie exclaimed. “That means we’re going to see a lot of you this summer, then?”
Oliver looked over at me, still smiling. “Oh yes, I’ll be around. In fact, you won’t be able to get rid of me.”
I met his gaze this time, but inside I was trembling. Not with excitement like Maisie, but with fear for what the summer might hold. Oliver was bad news, but I was drawn to him like I’d never been drawn to another man. No one before or after him had come close.
I’d tried to move on, I really had. Maisie liked to comment on the lack of men in my life, but it wasn’t like I hadn’t been on dates or had boyfriends. I even had a relatively active sex life. Not a good sex life, but an active one.
I’d never been able to find a man that made me feel the way Oliver did. Some of them had made me laugh, and a few had been charming, but Oliver made me truly feel something. Something deep inside. Something between my legs. God, so many feelings between my legs.
But there was another side to Oliver. Maisie saw him as the cool older brother that she never got to see, but I saw him as the man who had thrown us out of his life when things went wrong. He’d accused Maisie and me of “distracting him from his game” and had made it quite clear he wanted us to stay out of his life. That was eight years ago.
I’d happily obliged, and hadn’t spoken to him since, but Maisie had been too young to remember what had happened. Now he had purposely brought us back into his life, and this time he seemed only too happy to have us around. What had changed?
One thing was for certain, if he kept smiling at me like that, it was going to be damn difficult to keep hating him. He already had Maisie’s trust and friendship, but he’d have to do more than buy us first class plane tickets to regain mine. Not after what he had done.
