His Greatest Redemption [REUPLOADED]

36

I wasn't exactly sure what I expected, but this was not it.

The street lamp casted her faded blue trailer in flickering light, and I watched from my car as a stray cat tiptoed up the steps and slowly sniffed around the beer bottles on the small porch. The outside of the trailer looked shabby and torn down, and the fact that it was on a secluded lot wasn't any better. The alarms in my head went off like fireworks.

Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I opened the door to Spade's Maserati and slipped out of the car, making sure to lock and check the door behind me.

I glanced at the trailer again, swallowing hard.

I couldn't fathom the fact that my mother was living so close to my childhood home all this time. I had to admit, Catalina Cavallaro was a smart woman. She remained close because she knew that no one, my father most specifically, would suspect her to stay in the States, let alone New York.

She was a fucking genius.

I treaded up the three steps to the trailer as my heart jackhammered against my rib cage. In the far distance, I could hear the faint sound of a television playing and someone from a nearby corner having a not-so-private conversation on the phone.

I knew I was making a big mistake by coming here. Probably one of the biggest. But I couldn't shake off that feeling that I owed Cam this. I knew I would probably be in the tight clutches of fear once this was all over, and that wrist would be bound by the luxury of an expensive Rolex.

But I couldn't think about Luciano right now. He'd have to punish me later.

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I knocked on the door. It shook underneath my hand, rattling loudly.

My heart paused with every bang.

But no one came to answer the door. Maybe this wasn't the right trailer, but my fear overpowered my logic. I wrapped my hand around the door knob and it turned easily with my hand, and with a small shove, I pushed the door open.

My eyes immediately zeroed in on the half naked man sprawled out on the couch, a dirty brown blanket thrown over his lower half. Underneath the coffee table was the cap to a retractable needle that lie a few feet away from the man's large combat boots.

I glanced around, taking in all the beer bottles and ugly ass living room decor, not even the slightest bit surprised. If it weren't for the people my father hired to keep the house clean, this was what my mother's room would've looked like. The only energy she had was preserved for getting high and taking drugs.

I spotted a small pocket pistol peeking out from underneath the man's discarded jeans on the floor, and with a sigh, I walked over and grabbed the gun. I flipped the pistol over and checked the chamber.

Lucky me, it was fully loaded.

I glanced down at the man again, irritation rolling between my teeth. Who even was he?