Page 71 of Golden Atonement

Shaking my head, I looked down the street at the perfectly trimmed trees, yards, and bushes. Houses in perfect mint condition, flowers blooming everywhere. Almost like someone tried to hide the truth behind layers and layers of makeup.

“I grew up on this street, but nothing is the same,” I muttered while I watched a garage door open next door and a large manslowly back a motorcycle out. Then, as if all at once, several other garages opened and men backed their bikes out.

“I think we should leave,” my father whispered, stepping closer to me.

Turning toward my former home, I stared at a man that wasn’t there before.

Tall, muscular and covered in tattoos, he stood on the front porch glaring at me, waiting to see what I would do.

When I didn’t move, he asked, “Who are you and what do you want?”

“I used to live here,” I replied, pointing at him. “In that house.”

“I own everything. Have for several years now.”

“I didn’t mean to intrude. We will leave,” I said, turning to get back in the car when the man clearly said, “Didn’t say you had to.”

Stopping, I turned back toward him when a woman stepped out of the house to stand next to him.

She was beautiful, shy, and she looked vaguely familiar.

I couldn’t place her, but I felt like I knew her somehow.

The large man whispered something to the woman before he walked down the sidewalk toward me. Extending his hand, he said, “My name is Joshua Stone, and you are?”

Taking his hand, I frowned. “Stone? Are you related to Montana Stone?”

The man growled, yanking his hand out of mine. “Get the fuck off my property.”

“Wait,” I quickly said, holding up my hand. “I didn’t come here to start anything. I’m just looking for answers.”

“Go fucking find them somewhere else,” the man sneered, marching back toward the house.

Running after him, I shouted, “My name is Remi. My husband is Maxwell Doherty!”

The woman gasped while the man stopped dead in his tracks.

Turning to face me, he seethed, “What the fuck did you just say?”

“My husband is Maxwell Doherty.”

The man looked at the woman, who now stood frozen to her spot, tears running down her face. Rushing over to her, he whispered something in her ear as she nodded and quickly returned inside the house, shutting the door behind her.

Walking back over to me, the large man glared. “I don’t know what the fuck you think you are looking for, but you won’t find answers here. I have absolutely nothing to do with my fucking cousin or that goddamned club of his. I run a clean club, the way it was supposed to have been run all along. So, take your ass and get the fuck out of here and tell your fucking husband—”

The sound of glass shattering had the large man running toward the house.

I don’t know why, but I followed.

The second I entered, I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as memories of my time here assailed me, almost suffocating me. I could feel the walls closing in as the surrounding air screamed, begging me to leave.

“Put down the glass, honey,” the man cautiously said. The frightened woman held a shard of glass to her throat.

Tears streamed down her face while her body shook in terror.

“He’s coming for me.”

“No one is coming for you, honey. Just put the glass down.”

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