Page 59 of Give Me Redemption

I’ve tried to deny the feelings I have for Jace Grant, but every time I think about him, I get butterflies along with a feeling of dread. It’s a fucked-up combination, one that I’m sick of having.

My therapist told me exactly what I already know. I have a job to do and I won’t let anything mess that up, but seeing him makes it harder. He wants to go for drinks tonight. Well, I want him for more than just drinks.

I can’t get off with Malcom anymore. He shut that shit down, which is understandable. It wasn’t healthy using him. It was working, though.

When I closed my eyes, I could see Jace. I could pretend he was the one making me feel weightless, but something tells me, Jace would make me feel more than that.

He’d make me feel like I had a purpose. Like my life was worth more than what I’ve made it.

Don’t get me wrong. I love my job, but this is my life. I’ve built it that way. I’ve cast everything else to the side. Love, friendship—hell, even my family comes second. I think the reason Jace scares me so much is because I know how bad it’s going to hurt when it’s done.

I don’t reply to Jace. I ignore him for the time being, knowing I can’t handle being around him right now. My feelings for him are too strong, I’ve got to step away and reevaluate.

I pull up to the house, seeing Monroe’s already here along with a team. I climb out of my car and walk over to him.

“What’s the update?” I ask.

“You look like shit,” he says.

“Yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” I reply, popping a stick of gum into my mouth before grabbing my sunglasses from my shirt collar and sliding them on.

“She’s in there,” he says. “It’s been quiet, so we think he’s sleeping.”

“Let’s go get this motherfucker.”

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The girl was found, the man arrested. She’d been banged up a bit, and we took her to the hospital to get checked out. He’s going to prison and there, men who are on death row will rape him.

Say what you will, but there’s a difference in evil.

There are men who’ve killed people barehanded, who’ve tortured, and committed violent crimes.

But the ones who do things to little kids—that’s a whole other level to me.

That asshole who decided to take Abby Foster from the parking lot she was in and use her for his sick pleasure will be used up in prison by those same men who have done horrendous crimes. Because even the evil men have a line they don’t cross.

After an eighteen-hour day, I shut my computer off, slide empty coffee cups into the trash, and stand up, stretching and popping my back. I exhale, looking over at Monroe, who’s already looking at me.

“Today was a good day,” he says, leaning back in his chair.

“Yeah,” I agree.

“How’s everything going with you?” he asks.

“Fine,” I reply, crossing my arms.

“How’s the case Davy has you working on?”

I look past him into Davy’s office. He’s also still working.

“It’s going slowly,” I reply to Monroe.

“This should be a walk in the park for you,” he says. “What’s the holdup?”

I look back at him. “I can’t seem to get in the place. There’s only hearsay about it even existing. There’s no proof.”

“Davy said you know the brother?” I nod. “Can’t you get him to talk?”

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