Devil's Redemption (Devil's Pawn Duet 2)

“They may well be but if there’s one thing I know about our boys in blue it’s that there’s never much rush to get to this part of town. Besides,” he says, gaze moving between my legs, to my eyes, then back down as he pushes the skirt of my dress up. “I just want a quick taste of top-shelf pussy.” He makes an obscene gesture with his tongue that makes me recoil.

He slides his hands over my thighs and it’s just like that night. Just like when his brother unzipped my jeans and slid his hands down my thighs as he shoved my jeans and panties off. I’m going to have a panic attack. I’m shaking so hard. My breath just gasps.

But then my gaze lands on one of the photos of my baby and something stills inside me, something hardens. Without consciously thinking, I act. I bring my knee up, catching him on the chin. His teeth clatter, the hit forces his head back, knocking him onto his ass. I then kick him so hard in the face that he cries out, falls hard, his head hitting the wall. My chair crashes in the opposite direction, my arms trapped beneath it, my own weight pinning me there.

I scream. Twisting my wrists. My shoulders. I hear him curse as he gets to his feet. I lift my head, trying to see what he’s going to do, bracing for the worst.

But before that can come, the door smashes open and we both turn to find two huge men entering the house.

Two familiar men.

And behind them, Julia.

46

Isabelle

Julia’s eyes meet mine and for one second, I feel relief. For one stupid moment, I actually feel relieved.

She holds my gaze briefly then takes in Gerald Gibson who is on his feet now. He’s cupping his nose with both hands, blood pouring from it.

“She broke my nose,” he tells her, moving toward Julia.

One of the men quickly closes and locks the front door, the other steps between Julia and Gerald. Julia puts a hand to his shoulder to nudge him aside.

“Get my cousin off the floor,” she says. Even though my mind is cheering, something deeper inside me tells me not to trust it. Tells me she isn’t here to help me.

The man moves around Gerald, knocking him back with just his shoulder. He approaches me and unceremoniously hauls me up by the chair. My wrists and shoulders throb with pain.

I watch Julia step toward Gerald, totally unafraid. She’s wearing a black pantsuit. Her usual high heels. Her hair isn’t quite right. It’s in a bun but the bun is falling apart, and her makeup is faded like it’s from last night. She’s also not wearing her signature red lipstick. Looking closer, the suit looks rumpled. Like she’s had it on for a while.

She touches Gerald’s face, gripping his jaw with her hand, nails digging into it as she turns it this way and that to survey the damage.

“It’s not broken, Gerald. Don’t be a pussy.” She releases him with a jerk. Gerald wipes the blood from his face on his sleeve.

“You bring the rest of the money?”

Julia loathes this man. I see it in her sneer. She shifts her gaze again to me but only momentarily before returning her attention to Gerald.

“The job isn’t quite done, is it?” she asks him, then steps around him, coming to me.

The man who straightened my chair stands at my back, his presence like that of a hulking beast.

“Cousin,” she says, looking me over. “Are you okay?”

Something crumples under her shoe before I have a chance to answer. We both look down to see the photos of the ultrasound. She lifts her foot because she’s impaled one with her heel. The sight of this, her heel through that photo, is as horrific as that teddy bear hanging by its neck in Gerald Gibson’s van. Stupidly, I feel the burn of tears as the knowledge of her betrayal fully settles.

“Was it you all along? Did Christian die because of you?”

She plucks the photo off her heel and studies it, tilting her head as she does. This is a different Julia than the one I know. Than the one she’s been careful to show me. She’s never been warm but some people are just like that. She is a good enough mother to Matty, although thinking back, there were times she was stand-offish even with him.

She turns her gaze to mine and smiles, all teeth. “Isn’t it cute.” She looks at the array of pictures scattered at our feet, disgust curling her lip.

“Did Christian die because of you?” I ask again, my voice more forceful.

She seems surprised by the question, or maybe my tone, because she drops the photo onto the floor and looks at me straight, eyes narrowing.

“That really was Carlton. Although I did help clean up his mess.”