Hot Redemption Read online

  I’d learned that lesson the hard way from Teddy. Fear crept up my spine just from thinking of that name. My bottom lip quivered. My pulse raced. Even long gone, his name incited terror in my chest.

  Stupid son of a bitch. I won’t let thoughts of you ruin this high. You’re dead. You can’t hurt me ever again.

  Flipping on the air conditioner, I strolled by my bed to the wall across from me. The air conditioner rattled and shook the wall as it blew out air. Torn wallpaper flapped back and forth. A little smoke lifted out from the vent, but the hotel manager said that was no big deal. Not that he was a trustworthy person. He’d offered me the option to give him a daily blow job instead of paying the regular amount. An upstanding guy, that one. I’d declined. But lately as my funds dwindled into single digits, I’d been considering that option, to my upmost regret. I’d even gone back into exotic dancing, which was how I spotted those three groovy guys and came up with the awesome and yet completely uninspired plan to take the money from their next hit.

  I’d been watching the gang ever since I’d seen them hit another club I worked in a few months back.

  That night, they’d stomped in, wielding guns and blasting siphons. Everyone dove to the ground, including me. Dread had rocked me into compliance. Who knew what type of men were robbing the place—killers, rapists, sadistic assholes that got off on torture and tears. I remained on the floor and did what they asked, but I kept my gaze on them too, just in case there was a moment I could escape.

  They had marched to the club’s center stage and forced a dancer to hold the bag while men stuffed it with their money. The dancer had pissed on herself. Urine soaked her thong and streamed down her thighs. The handsome blond leader cursed, yanked off his shirt, and helped her with cleaning herself up. I’d known right then that the guys weren’t killers. A psycho wouldn’t have cared and I knew psychos. At the end, they grabbed the money and rushed out of there, harming no one but the patrons’ wallets, who’d come in for a hot night with half-naked ladies.

  The next morning, I checked the news droid, which reported the Unis gang had struck again. Their names were unknown. Their faces from the club’s video plastered all over the screen, but I knew that anyone who knew the guys wouldn’t rush up to the police station to tell on them. The Unis population held a tight bond. They stayed in their communities and kept to themselves.

  The club I’d worked at closed down due to the robbery. It so happens that the second club I worked at, they robbed too. And just like before, they had the center stage girl gather the loot and hand it to them. No casualties came from the hit. They stormed in, grabbed the money, and dashed out.

  An idea uncoiled in my mind like a satin ribbon being unwound from its spool. I’ll rob them.

  So for weeks, I’d dance at night and research them during the day. They only robbed clubs not owned by Unis and they never hit the same club twice. That had narrowed it down to ten more clubs left for them to rob. Once I decoded their pattern, I had laughed about how simple it was—they hit clubs on busy nights and when not many bouncers were scheduled to work. I cased them for two months while they—completely unaware of me—robbed strip club after strip club, in and out. They were good. Each time they finished faster than before. I was impressed with their precision and skill, but unfortunately for them, I was better, or at least less predictable.

  A woman always has the upper hand in those kinds of places. They never realized I’d been right there at the other clubs, even though I’d bumped into or stood right next to them many times. A woman has the ability to be invisible or be seen, depending on what she wants—she holds all the power.

  Too bad for their bank accounts that they didn’t get that memo.

  After tonight I should have just enough money to buy the kinds of things I’d need to move on to bigger and better things.

  Goodbye, earth with your chemical rains, mounting landfills that spread across countries, and pitiful excuse of a human job market.

  My plan: find me a wealthy sugar daddy to pay my way off this shit-hole planet. The catch-22 of it was that most of the whales I had my eyes on weren’t stupid. No, they’d see an ex-stripper like me coming a mile away. But…if I already had some money of my own…well, I’d be sitting pretty in no time.

  My mind drifted back to the blond gang leader. Too bad I’d had to shoot him, but I knew I’d only get one chance at ripping them off. I’d spent too much of my time planning to be at the right strip club at the right time. I was tired of waiting. Besides, this planet was a study in Darwinism—he should have known better than to trust someone like me. And despite everything, I almost hadn’t gotten away with it. It was those damn artificial eyes. I’d been prepared for them. I knew he would snap a few pictures of the dancers. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It didn’t matter. I’d still lost my shit for a moment—memories of Teddy with the same type of enhanced eyes battering at my nerves. Teddy would flash them right before he beat me. He loved to take pictures of his marks—the scars and burns, the gashes that were so deep at times I didn’t think skin enhancements would heal them.

  Forget about Teddy. He’s gone, far away, at least six feet deep.

  Taking off all my clothes, I collapsed onto the motel bed. The springs squeaked. Dust rose from the tattered sheets. The adrenaline of the evening was finally wearing off and exhaustion hit me hard. I crawled under the comforter and checked to make sure my extra gun rested under my pillow. A dirty mildew scent radiated from the fabric, but still, I sank into it as though the comforter were feathers encased in silk. One day it will be. I wrapped my arms around the bag that held the means to my future, clutching it to my chest. Tomorrow I would begin phase two of my plan. Tomorrow would be the beginning of my new life.

  “Epic, isn’t that fucking cute? She’s all cuddled up with our money.” An angry voice pulled me suddenly from the fog of my sleep. I kept my eyes closed and tried to control my breathing. I had no doubt who was in my dingy little motel room.

  How the hell did they find me? And so damn fast?

  I’d have time to ponder that later. For now the only thing I had time to worry about was walking away in one piece, with my money. I inched my fingers under my pillow and slipped them around the gun. Once the cold metal smoothed against my fingers, I waited and listened for the opportunity to lodge siphons in their skulls.

  “Well, what are we waiting for? Grab our money and let’s go!” the same deep voice demanded, lathered with impatience.

  “Let me wake her up first. I want her to see who took it and understand why.” The voice caused me to shiver. It had to be the blond leader.

  “Is that even necessary?” A third voice sounded from the far right.

  So all three of them are here. How did they get in without me hearing it? How did they bypass the locks?

  The floor creaked, signaling someone was on the move. I mentally steeled myself and pushed up from my prone position as fast as I could, the gun extended in the general direction the creak had come from. The blond’s face came into focus. In his right hand he held a gun. A metal bandage wrapped around his left arm where I’d shot him. Those artificial eyes flickered from blue to a reddish-orange color as they met mine. His lips turned up slightly at the corners. “Damn, if you’re not a luscious sight in only a bra and G-string, holding our money.” Light flashed from his eyes as he took a picture of me. “Is that my gun?”

  “I don’t know—is it?” I hissed.

  “Those hard nipples pressing up against your bra are messing with my focus.” He raked his gaze over my exposed skin as if daring me to stop him.

  “It seems you’re a little confused.” My hand shook, but hopefully not enough for anyone but me to notice. I arched my back ever so slightly to keep his focus on my breasts, just in case. “This is my money and my gun, lover boy. Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.”

  “Seriously, Epic. You’re going let her tal
k to you like that?” the darkest guy asked.

  Forming my lips into a smirk, I kept my gaze locked on Epic’s face. I knew who was in charge in this crew and it wasn’t the dark one with the temper or the red-headed guy at the door. It was blondie.

  “So your name is Epic?” I leaned my head to the side.

  “Heard your name was Phoenix due to the ink on your back. Nice to meet you.” He extended his hand toward me as if to give me a shake. Epic grinned when he saw me grimace. Point for him. That’s how they’d found me so fast. They’d tracked me by my ink. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Although, the fact that they were willing to let me live meant they thought I’d simply seized a convenient opportunity presented to me, not that I’d been planning on ripping them off.

  “I prefer Nix.”

  “And I’d prefer you handing over my money,” the dark one grumbled.

  “Not happening.”

  “Come on, Nixie baby,” Epic stepped closer to the bed, “just give us back our money and we’ll leave you alone. I hate shooting sexy women.”

  They weren’t killers, but I bet they’d kill me if I forced them. So easy. I could probably shove the money their way and they’d leave, no beating me up, choking, rape, or murder. All would be forgiven. I glanced down at the bag. No way. I was nothing if not stubborn. “Back up, Epic, or I’ll shoot you again.”

  “Friends don’t shoot friends.” He pressed the button on his gun. It hummed as it charged.

  “You’re not my friend.”

  “My brothers never miss a shot. Three guns to one. What you think your chances are?” the redhead asked with a smugness in his voice that I wanted to blast out of him with my gun.

  “I need this money more than you do,” I responded between clenched teeth. Sweat trickled down my spine.

  “I doubt that.” His face shifted to a serious expression.

  “I’m not giving it back.”

  “Yes. You are.”

  “No.” I tightened my index finger on the trigger and Epic’s face turned to stone. He glanced briefly at both brothers. Something passed between them as silence filled the air. My heart tripled in time. I knew they were about to make their move. All the guns charged in unison. They hummed and lit up at the tips.

  “Don’t,” I whispered.

  “Don’t what, Nixie baby?” Some unknown emotion rolled across Epic’s face and his eyes wavered between colors—burnt orange to pea green, bright red to lemon yellow.

  I chose that instant to pull the trigger. Unfortunately, my aim wasn’t the best. The siphon hit the ceiling. I shot again. Instead of going in his chest, the next one blasted into the same arm I’d shot at the club. The metal bandage caught it. The siphon lodged halfway in and then exploded. Bits of glass sprayed around us. I ducked under the covers, but still, jagged shards sliced the skin on my arm.

  A string of curses reached my ears just as another shot rang out in the room. Excruciating pain surged through my system, radiating from my right arm. Someone shot me. The siphon seared a path into my flesh, tearing tissue around it. My gun slipped from my numb fingers and I collapsed onto the bed, clutching at the bag of money with my good hand.

  Epic tugged on the bag and I curled my fingers into it like claws. “You can pry it from my cold, dead hands.” I met Epic’s astonished gaze and forced a smile. “Are you really going to kill me? I’m just a girl, after all.”

  “Just a girl, huh?” He pressed the barrel of his gun to my forehead at the same time he cupped the side of my face with his large hand. The coppery smell of his blood burned my nostrils. I couldn’t help the tear that slid from my eye. I really didn’t want to die, but I wouldn’t beg and I wouldn’t apologize. I’d made a promise to myself after Teddy that I’d rather die on my own terms than live on anyone else’s ever again. Epic ran his thumb slowly over my bottom lip. I fought the urge to bite it.

  A smile tipped up his full lips as if he were reading my mind. “You aren’t just anything, Nixie baby. You’re definitely not just a girl. You’re all woman.”

  Pure rage roared through my system. He was going to kill me—and he was smiling while complimenting me?

  “Fuck you.” I bared my teeth into a snarl.

  “Maybe later, after we’ve cleaned up that arm.”

  His beautiful grinning face was the last thing I saw before lights exploded behind my eyes and everything went completely dark.

  CHAPTER 3

  Epic

  “Please, Dad.” Tears singed my skin as they streamed down my face. “I can’t. Not after Mom.”

  “Epic.” He pulled me into him and wrapped those heavy dark arms around me. “It’s better this way. With my death, you’ll get a big check to last you and the kids for years—”

  “We want you, not some damn insurance money.” I buried my head in the crook of his neck like a little kid. Snow landed on my face and bare arms. I shivered, but not from the cold wind breezing by or the snow that stormed down on us. I trembled from the moment.

  How I wished I was only a kid. Not the man I had to be, the one who nursed my mother when she was sick, feeding her watery celery soup with a spoon, cleaning her feces-filled adult diapers, and covering her with a thin sheet when she had finally escaped the pain and passed away. The whole time I took care of Mom, Dad worked three jobs to help us survive. When he rushed home that night between breaks to tell his wife he loved her and to kiss her cheek, I was the one who had to tell him she’d died. I was the one who witnessed him crumble to the floor and drown into an unending sea of heartbreaking grief. And yet again, I was the one who stood on the roof next to this man, my dad. A man that begged me with all his heart to let him kill himself.

  “Don’t cry, Epic. I’m worth more dead than alive,” he whispered.

  “But we love you.” My bottom lip quivered.

  “Love won’t pay the bills, clothe you kids, get the twins their medicine each month, and help Mimi go to college.” Dad released me. “And even if love did provide, when your mom died…she took all of my love with her.”

  “Don’t say that. Please, Dad, don’t leave us.”

  He tightened his grip on me. “Word of advice, son. Find a nice girl to settle down with, but make sure you only care for her a little. Don’t love her too much. Life is complicated enough. Get a girl you can live without, so when the time comes and she dies, you move on. Don’t fall for one that you can’t live without.”

  He let me go. I stared at the roof’s ledge. It was several planks of silver and attached onto the apartment building’s roof with rope. Everyone who owned aerial cars used the roof as its launching pad and paid for designated spots to park each month. Some drunk had crashed his car into the ledge months ago. Now a gaping hole in the foundation and those pitifully rope-tied planks served as the ledge. The tenants and I had begged for the landlord to fix it and explained the area was a hazard. The landlord refused.

  “Take care of them, son.” Dad backed up onto the unsteady ledge. The planks quaked under his weight. Snowflakes fell to his dark skin and landed on his blond hair. “Don’t tell the others what happened tonight. Tell them it was an accident.”

  “No.” I ran his way and reached out my hand to grab him. A crack sounded as the planks broke under his feet. He fell, dropping down so many flights into the darkness. Broken silver and rope followed him.

  “No!”

  Without screaming or crying, he smashed to the pavement. Blood splattered the snow-covered ground below. From my view, his dead body looked like a sleeping bird. The blood pooling out on his sides resembled wings. And then he shifted into a huge bird. Fire blew up around him. He rose into the air, flapping his wings as the flames licked up at his claws. And then he flew away, soaring past the building into the gray clouds.

  I jerked up in my crowded bed and screamed. I scanned the room to make sure it was my bedroom. All eight of my guitars hung on
racks up on the wall—from the omnichord upgraded silver wire to the old acoustic one dad had given me for my birthday when I was a kid. Articles of my old band Chameleon and memorabilia of every performance stuck to the other wall. Mom had made it a point of collecting every club flyer announcing Chameleon’s events, our concert tickets, any interview I did with a magazine from big publications to small local rags. She even held on to musical programs of my kindergarten guitar recitals and some of the old sheets of music I’d written, even the few songs that my brothers picked on me about and the band refused to add to our selection as they doubled over in laughter. I wasn’t much of a songwriter especially when it came to the ballads. My stuff boasted of an edge and usually involved me screaming. But Mom had framed all those old song lyric sheets in gold frames—“Life is like a Wet Dog,” “Eat my Flesh,” “Pause and Piss,” and the one that Shade bothered me about for days, “Penis Voyage.”

  Mom had clapped at them all and said I was the best. Damn, I miss you, Mom. I’ll have to tell Dad about that crazy dream. He’ll . . .

  It took me several seconds to remember he was dead too. He’d committed suicide three months before by jumping off the roof. But sometimes I thought he was still around. I closed my eyes and clutched the little heart hanging on the chain around my neck. The locket monitored my heartbeats and made sure my stress didn’t place me in the red zone.

  Tears swelled behind my closed lids. I rubbed them away before they could fall down my face. It took two minutes to overcome the pain that gripped me. I checked to make sure no one stirred in their sleep as they crowded my bed.