Redemption, page 1
part #2 of The One More Night Series Series
Redemption
by
Rebecca Hunter
Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Hunter
All rights reserved.
Cover Photo: Nathan Dumlao
ISBN-13: 978-0-9988548-3-0
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Jonas's past is exposed. And I know I could never be with a man like him.
But when he shows up in New York, the attraction sparks just as hot as it did in Paris. Can I ever reconcile the things he's done with the man who makes me come alive?
***
Four nights.
Three cities.
Two people, running from our pasts.
Will one more night ever be enough?
***
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Warning
1
MUFFLED VOICES CAME through the wooden conference room door, and I leaned in closer, heart thumping. Was that Jonas’s voice? Maybe he wasn’t there yet. Or maybe, after three months, I didn’t recognize his voice anymore.
No. Impossible. The words he had whispered in Paris still came to me as I lay in bed each night.
You’re looking for someone to make you stop running.
His deep, raspy voice still filled my dreams, no matter how much I tried to block it out during the day.
I smoothed back my hair into the neat bun firmly secured at the base of my neck. I had given up on falling back to sleep around five a.m., which left more than enough time to blow my hair perfectly straight. At least one thing was going my way today.
I reached for the door handle, but I couldn’t make myself turn it. My heart thumped harder. If I opened this door, I might be face to face with Jonas again. But not the Jonas I knew. The man I had spent two glorious nights with last spring didn’t exist. Reading all the details about his past had taken care of that. Every heart-twisting connection I had felt, every spark of hope he had lit was a fantasy, nothing more.
But one thing he had said in Paris rang true. Now that I knew what he had done, I didn’t want to see him again. No rational woman would.
I glanced down the empty office hallway. No one was there to witness this moment of weakness. Why couldn’t I bring myself to call in sick this morning? Nothing good could come of sitting across the conference room table from him. If Jonas was really as bad as his book suggested, the last glow of my Paris memories would burn out. I deserved those at least, didn’t I?
But the bigger danger lay in another possibility. What if I found a trace of the man who had awakened me? What if the irresistible pull of his intense blue eyes drew me in again?
In that case, I was just as messed up as I suspected. Because this man hadn’t just served time for theft and armed robbery like my father. He was worse.
It was too late to turn back. I was going to face him for the very last time. Right in front of Neil. Time to pull myself together.
A heavy hand rested on the small of my back. I flinched and whipped around. Neil laughed but didn’t take his hand away.
“Scared that monster Jonas Hällström is going to sneak up on you?”
A flush crept up my neck. He had no idea how close he’d come to the truth.
Neil smirked and rubbed his chiseled jaw. “I wonder if he’s as fucked up in person as that character in his book. He really went to prison, you know.”
I frowned. Yes, I knew.
“But you already met him in Stockholm. Is he here yet?” Neil was standing way too close. Just because we had slept together in the past didn’t give him forever rights to look down my shirt. Apparently, he didn’t see things that way.
I maneuvered to the side, out of his way. “No idea if he’s here.”
“The way he beat that guy in a bar until he was almost—”
“We’re late, Neil,” I said, cutting him off.
Neil straightened his tie and glanced down at my hand, still resting on the door handle. “Then turn the knob.”
So I did. I swallowed hard and stepped in. Slowly, I scanned the room. Sanchez. A guy from marketing, sitting next to Neil’s red-headed intern, who had somehow arrived before Neil. Why was she here?
And Jonas.
Everything stopped. My traitorous heart leapt in my chest. He wore a white, button-down shirt that covered his tattoos, but nothing could hide the slope of his heavy shoulders or the scars on his knuckles. I forced my gaze up, over his clenched jaw, over the hard, grim line of his full lips, until I reached his eyes. For one brief moment, we were back in Paris. The raw hunger from our last night flickered in his intense gaze. His eyes sparked with deep longing and pain. And then it all disappeared. His expression turned cold. Almost cruel.
Oh, God. I wasn’t going to make it through this meeting.
Sanchez stood up as Neil and I entered the room.
“This is Neil Burton from marketing,” he said to Jonas.
Jonas’s eyes narrowed. I had seen this same expression back in the bar in Stockholm: jaw set, eyes steely. I had seen glimpses of his don’t fuck with me stare, and now he was giving it to Neil. Jonas crossed the room in a few, purposeful strides, and Neil winced as Jonas’s hand closed around his.
“And you remember Alice O’Connor,” said Sanchez.
Jonas turned to me. “Of course.”
His words came out gruff, and his stare was remote, without any hint of recognition. So why did the sound of his voice echo in currents through my body?
He offered his hand. His eyes stayed cold as his warm fingers enveloped mine. He held on for a little longer than he should have. Heat crept up the base of my neck as I drew in a breath of the same aftershave he had worn last spring.
Shit. Yes, I was just as messed up as I thought.
“Nice to see you again, Ms. O’Connor,” said Jonas, but he didn’t even try to make it sound convincing.
I blinked, shaking myself out of my daze. “Likewise.”
Jonas frowned and let my hand drop. I took a deep breath and headed for an empty chair, heart pounding in overdrive. How the hell was I going to sit across from this man for the next hour?
Last spring, the electric attraction between us started as unprofessional and a little edgy. Now it was wildly inappropriate. Dangerous. Stupid. My twisted heart had to get over it.
Sanchez smiled across the conference table. “Welcome to Boars and Allen, Mr. Hällström.”
The red-headed intern lowered the lights, and Sanchez began with an overview of the timeline and marketing ideas. I didn’t hear a word he said. My body was on full alert. I twirled my pencil and focused on keeping my face neutral. Jonas didn’t glance in my direction or show any sign that he was aware of my presence. At least no one would guess that we had slept together.
I took another quick peek at Jonas. His expression was still hard, but if this Jonas was anything like the man I had known last spring, he was angry.
“It’s a great angle,” said Neil. “There’s a long tradition of literary assholes whose memoirs sell very well, and we think this book fits perfectly into the niche.”
“It’s not a memoir,” snapped Jonas. “Though I’m not denying the asshole part.”
“Right, not a memoir,” said Neil quickly. “But your own past is similar. You also… well… readers will make the connection, and we can use that.”
Jonas’s jaw clamped down hard. I stared at him, dying to voice what Neil hadn’t had the nerve to say. You also tried to kill a man. It was in his book. He had gone to jail for it. What would Jonas do if I looked into his eyes and said those words?
“No. I’m not doing that.” Jonas’s voice cut in, cold. “I’m not using my own history as a selling point.”
“But that’s the appeal of this book,” said Neil. “Readers love violence and death. Look at your own mystery series. Now you’ve written about events that come close to your own past, and readers will want the chance to meet a real…”
Neil stopped. The room was dead silent.
Finally, Jonas leaned forward. “Are you going to finish your sentence? A real what?” His voice was dead calm.
Neil opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
Sanchez put up his hands. “Just talking ideas, Mr. Hällström. We don’t have to go in that direction.”
Jonas grunted a response. His hands rested on the table, his scarred fists clenched.
Neil’s perky intern cleared her throat. “Here’s another idea. Maybe you could write a sequel, where that guy cleans himself up, gets another chance. A redemption story.”
Jonas stared at the intern, taking her in for an extra beat. He shook his head. “A guy like that is beyond redemption.”
For one, brief moment, his eyes flitted to me. Was he looking for a sign of protest from me? He wasn’t going to find it. Or maybe I just imagined the look because the next moment, the hardened version of Jonas was back.
Neil’s intern spoke up again. “You could do interviews to put out a softer version of this kind of character. Just something for the readers to connect with.”
Jonas’s expression didn’t ease. “There is no softer version.”
The intern’s face flushed. Jonas’s gaze stayed on the woman, as if fully registering her. I closed my eyes. Another red-haired American woman for him to fixate on. Was he noting her fuller breasts? Her quicker smile? I hadn’t missed the comparisons when Neil hired her. Not that it had bothered me. Not until now, when Jonas was sizing up this younger, sexier version of me, too.
I couldn’t take one more minute of this.
“I’m sorry. I have another meeting,” I lied, standing up abruptly. “But it was nice to see you again, Mr. Hällström. I’ll talk to Sanchez about my role from here.”
Sanchez’s brow furrowed, but he said nothing. I forced a tight smile in Jonas’s direction. His eyes darkened a little, but he said nothing.
2
I LOOKED AT my watch. 12:30. Everyone would be at lunch by now. Time to sneak out.
Sanchez had planned to take Jonas somewhere, but I couldn’t see Jonas sitting through a business lunch at an upscale Midtown restaurant. Not the Jonas from Paris, and definitely not the guy that sat across from me today.
Head down, I made my way to the elevator. I had to get out of there. What if Jonas walked over to my desk and got my stupid, twisted heart pounding for all the wrong reasons? Again.
Why did I show up today? Even knowing the most awful things about him hadn’t stopped my most basic, physical response. That’s what it was, wasn’t it? Aching want. Maybe I was more like my mother than I thought.
All the more reason to leave the office for the day. And stay away until Jonas was long gone.
I stepped out of the elevator and headed for the glass doors. They slid open, and I stepped out into the cool fall air. I slowed to a stop. Jonas. Only a few steps away. Waiting, leaning against a sign pole. Hands in his pockets, shoulders turned to the cold.
He looked down at his watch. It was my chance to turn around, to slip back inside, but my feet wouldn’t move. Slowly, he lifted his gaze. For one, long moment, he just stared at me. His intense blue eyes widened, and he straightened up. I read everything I shouldn’t into his gaze—longing, frustration, anger, every emotion I had struggled with these last months. And then there was need. So much need. I sucked in a gasp as a hot spark of desire travelled through me. He parted his lips, the lips I still dreamed about. Then his mouth clamped shut into that grim line I had seen in the conference room.
I glanced around me at the others coming out of the building. No one I recognized. Good. I walked up to Jonas.
“What are you doing here?” I whispered.
Jonas frowned. “I’m waiting for you.”
“Why?”
“To say I’m sorry.”
I let out a tight laugh. “For what? For trying to kill a man? Because you’re apologizing to the wrong person.”
He looked at me for a long time. “I didn’t mean to let it get so intense between us.”
“I can’t imagine what happens when you mean to get intense,” I said dryly. “Oh, wait. I can. Because I’ve read your book.”
He closed his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a deep scowl. His chest rose and fell in a few heavy breaths before he opened them again.
“I’d never let anything like that happen,” he said, his voice hard.
“But that’s not my point,” I snapped.
I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of the receptionist leaving the building on my lunch break. I gave the woman a tight smile and turned back to Jonas. “Sadly, those days in Paris were some of my best. Ever.”
A stormy look crossed his face. “They were some of my best, too, Alice. Nothing changes that.”
His words hit me deep inside, throwing me off for a moment. Damn. Why did he have to say something like that right now? I shook my head slowly. Knowing his past changed everything. “Nothing’s the same, Jonas.”
He looked away. A cab pulled up to the curb. I could jump in it and drive away, just escape. But I didn’t. I couldn’t. Even knowing that Jonas was capable of far worse than my father wasn’t enough to make me run. That was the crux of the problem, wasn’t it?
“What the hell did you see in that guy Neil?” Jonas asked. “He’s a real asshole.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Probably why he likes your book.”
“Probably.”
I couldn’t just stand here on the city street and wait for this to get easier. I still wanted this man, and the urge to breathe in his scent and taste his mouth once more was overwhelming. It was getting worse. The sooner I walked away, the better.
But as I straightened up and drew in a shaky breath, Jonas’s eyes darted behind me.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath. “Here we go.”
I turned around just as Neil stepped out onto the sidewalk. He tipped his head in our direction. Yes, things were definitely getting worse. But my feet were still firmly planted on the sidewalk.
I had imagined this scene, even fantasized about it back in Paris. Neil was even in a suit on the Sixth Avenue sidewalk, just like I’d imagined. What the hell had I been thinking? That Jonas would come in like some Viking warrior and avenge all past wrongs, making Neil rescind the nasty things he had said to me? Right.
Jonas’s mouth was back in that grim line I had seen too many times today, and all the emotion from his eyes was gone. In the conference room Neil hadn’t hesitated to poke at Jonas’s wounds, knowingly or not. He was probably going to do it again. And next to him, Jonas was scowling, the scar on his jaw an angry red.
Nice taste in men, Alice.
The smart thing to do was to leave. Was this the tenth time the idea had come to me today?
“I thought you were out to lunch with Sanchez,” Neil said, giving Jonas a once-over.
Jonas shook his head. “I have something else I need to take care of.”
Take care of? Was that me that he needed to “take care of”?
Neil looked at both of us, and his eyes widened. I frowned. Jonas was still standing next to the street sign, but somewhere in our conversation, I had moved closer. Much too close.
“Something to take care of with Alice?” he asked. Then he smiled. “Oh, right. The red-head thing.”
Jonas’s expression turned dark.
He put his hands up. “Sorry, buddy. Just thought—”
“I’m not your buddy,” snapped Jonas. “And where the fuck do you get off talking like that about her?”
Right there, I made a decision. Probably a bad one. Probably one I’d regret. But leaving him right now felt worse.
“Jonas, let’s go somewhere else,” I said.
He flinched at my voice, his eyes still on Neil. He swallowed and worked his jaw. Then he turned to me. He narrowed his eyes, as if he wasn’t sure he trusted my invitation.
“You and Alice?” Neil said incredulously, almost to himself.
But I ignored him, and so did Jonas. His eyes were locked on mine. Finally, he nodded.
Without looking back at Neil, I headed for the taxi waiting at the curb. I climbed in, with Jonas close behind. “Twenty-Second and Third.”
The taxi swerved around the corner, and I leaned my head back against the seat. Jonas rested his head in his hands, shaking it slowly. His broad back rose and fell in heavy breaths. The taxi stopped at the light and turned down another street.
Jonas looked at me. “You’re going to hear more about this from Neil, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. “I doubt Neil will say anything. He’s got his own indiscretions.”
“I noticed.” He sat up and gave me a pointed look. “Let me guess. He hired that intern shortly after you two broke up.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. She’s cute, isn’t she? All that red hair and the peppy smile.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he snapped.
We rode for a few more blocks in silence. Jonas looked out the window at the buildings that rose up on both sides.
“Where are we going?” The crease in his brow deepened. “Your apartment?”
I glared at him. “Hell no.”
He flinched but didn’t say anything
The taxi pulled up at the corner of Twenty-Second Street and stopped. I paid the driver and climbed out. Jonas followed, keeping a good distance between us.
I nodded to the diner on the corner. “That’s where we’re going. We’ll be left alone.”
