Redeemed (Dirty Air #4)(74)

What the fuck happened inside of Chloe’s house when she was growing up? I can barely focus on the vile words her mother shares as I try to picture living in fear like Chloe did. Being forced to spend time inside of a closet while her mother got high with men. Fending for herself against a disgusting man who tried to take advantage of someone smaller than him.

The whole situation makes me sick. Disgusted to the point that I want Anne Carter to disappear forever.

“How much?” I hate making deals with the scum of the earth, but to protect Chloe, I’ll do anything. Even if it means supporting a drug addict like her.

“How much do you think Chloe’s secret is worth? I have a video of Ralph speaking out against the attack, and it’s not pretty.” Anne chuckles to herself.

Acid rolls around in my stomach. How much does it cost to keep a drug addict quiet? Fuck if I know. “Fifty thousand dollars.”

Anne laughs. The sound elicits the same chill as hearing nails running down a chalkboard. “You’ll have to do better than that. I googled you. Everyone knows how much you’re packing in that wallet. Do you really want to take a gamble on me revealing who your girlfriend is to the world? Something tells me the crowd you run with won’t be as accepting of someone like her.”

My jaw clamps down. “If someone doesn’t accept her, then they were never part of my crowd to begin with.”

“I see why she likes you.” She snickers.

I clutch onto my phone with a death grip. “Three-hundred-thousand dollars. That’s my final offer.”

“I knew you were willing to pay the right price. With all those fancy cars and houses, it’s barely a drop in the bucket.”

“You’re repulsive.”

“I never said I wasn’t. But I’m also an opportunist. The world is a harsh place, and my daughter happened to find the right kind of guy. I’m proud.”

“This is the last time you’ll ask for any money.”

“Don’t worry. That kind of money will keep me happy for a long time.” She sighs in a dreamy kind of way.

“Let me be clear. I give you the money and you stay away from my family, including Chloe. That means you disappear from all of our lives. Period. While you have a lousy story and whatever half-assed evidence your drugged-out brain could muster up, I have endless connections to wipe you from the map if you mess with us again. So, if you ever crawl out of the gutter you came from to cause us problems again, I’ll have you shipped off to a facility where you’ll live the life you deserve. No drugs. No people. Nothing but sobriety and your nasty thoughts to keep you company. Got it?”

“So testy. I see why my daughter is drawn to you.”

My jaw clenches. “I want a real yes or no answer. Your offer is disappearing in three…tw—”

“I promise not to contact you, your family, or Chloe.” She gives me a number to wire her money to, and I finish the deal without hesitating.

Chloe told me she was done with that piece of trash, and I only helped her solve that problem faster.





32





Santiago





Chloe’s only moved into my place as of two weeks ago and the energy is already shifting between us. The routine we have fallen into is easygoing, with both of us modeling domestic bliss. Our days with each other include cooking together and movie nights, with restoring the car in between.

Whenever she leaves for work, I grow agitated. A discomfort builds inside of me in her absence and I become desperate to fill the time. Enough so, I spend the better part of my morning working out in the gym. But not even that is enough to satisfy the edge inside of me. I use it as an excuse to buy something stupid while Chloe is away at work.

It takes two days for my latest purchase to arrive. The shipping company sets up my new system in an empty room on the first floor of my house, far away from anyone else.

With hesitant steps, I walk toward the room, clutching onto the package Noah sent me after the Monza weekend. Taking a deep breath, I walk into the room. The F1 simulation system sits in front of massive monitors. My hands tremble as I walk up to the machine and rip off the brand-new plastic wrap.

The pedals mock me and remind me of the way I used to race. I ignore the urge to run out of the room, instead choosing to remove the standard steering wheel and replace it with Noah’s custom-made one. Pieces click into place as the new wheel dominates the front of the machine.

“If you don’t practice, you’ll never get back out there.” I hold on to the back of the leather chair and take a steady breath.

I press the power button, and the machine whirs to life. Tension sizzles beneath my skin at practicing with the new wheel.

This could be a disaster. A total and utter failure of epic proportions.

But it could also be the best thing to happen to you in years. Imagine getting back out there.

My dilemma is cut off by sneakers squeaking behind me.

I turn to find Chloe gaping at the machine.

She steps into the room. “Look at this setup! I can hear the nerds all over the world crying tears of joy.”

“This isn’t for nerds,” I mumble under my breath.

“Okay, sure. Whatever you say. But real talk: Can you play Mario Kart on it?”

My jaw drops open. “Mario Kart?”