Jonny's Redemption (Gemini Group Book 7) Read online

  Jonny’s Redemption

  Gemini Group

  Riley Edwards

  Jonny’s Redemption

  Gemini Group Book 7

  Riley Edwards

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2021 Riley Edwards

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover design: Lori Jackson Designs

  Cover Image by: PAUL HENRY SERRES

  Written by: Riley Edwards

  Published by: Riley Edwards/Rebels Romance

  Edited by: Rebecca Hodgkins

  Proofreader: Julie Deaton, Rebecca Kendall

  Jonny’s Redemption

  eBook ISBN: 978-1-951567-11-8

  Print ISBN:978-1-951567-14-9

  First edition: February 23, 2021

  Copyright © 2021 Riley Edwards

  All rights reserved

  To my family - my team – my tribe.

  This is for you.

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Also by Riley Edwards

  Be A Rebel

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Lieutenant Jonny Spencer stared down at the dead body.

  A life gone too soon.

  The man looked like he was sleeping. Not all of them did. It was the ones who didn’t that plagued his dreams.

  His gaze went to the letter. Not a suicide note—a confession.

  A tale of a woman’s pain. Years of suffering until she could take it no longer. A wife forced to take the law into her own hands.

  I failed again.

  Protect and serve.

  What a goddamned joke.

  “Miss Cassie finally snapped,” Johnson, the county coroner, noted. “Surprised it took her so long.”

  Jonny wasn’t.

  Cassie Hampton had called dozens of times. Jonny himself had been out to this very house over ten times. Domestic disturbance, domestic violence, now murder. Each time Cassie had refused to press charges. She’d call it in, a deputy would come out, Scott would stop whaling on her, and he’d leave to cool down. But Miss Cassie would never press charges, and Scott would leave peacefully only to come back, and a month later, the sheriff’s department would get another call.

  Red tape.

  So much damn red tape Jonny’s hands were tied. There was nothing he could do if the victim refused to make a report.

  Nothing he could do unless the evidence was such the State’s Attorney had an airtight-open-and-shut case.

  It didn’t matter that everyone in Cliff City knew Scott Hampton beat the ever-loving hell out of his wife. It didn’t matter every sheriff’s deputy, town cop, and state trooper knew Scott was a wife-beating motherfucker. There was not a damn thing Jonny could do.

  And that was the last straw.

  Without acknowledging his fellow officers or the coroner’s offhand remark, Jonny left the bedroom.

  It wasn’t the stench of body decomp that filled his lungs and made his gut roil. It wasn’t the frantic 911 call from Cassie Hampton declaring her husband dead. It wasn’t even the damn note written in pretty cursive explaining how the woman had poisoned her husband and why. It wasn’t the dead body.

  It was all of it.

  All. Of. It.

  Years of trying his damndest to help but failing.

  It was his dead brother.

  His dead father.

  I’d failed them, too.

  It was a good woman who’d been beaten down, who’d after years of abuse did not snap but plotted. And now she’d have to live with what she’d done.

  Yeah, Jonny’s gut roiled all the way through the house. Not even when he stepped out on to the porch did the fresh air quell the anger that churned.

  And by the time he’d made it to his county-issued SUV he was no less agitated. The drive to the station only made his disturbing thoughts turn into a plan.

  “Shit,” Sheriff Baker muttered under his breath when Jonny walked into his office.

  Jonny Spencer didn’t sit, he also didn’t speak.

  Baker was smart, he knew what was coming.

  “Anything I can do to change your mind?” Baker asked.

  “No.”

  “The county can’t afford to lose more, Spencer. Think on that before you do this.”

  Baker was wrong.

  Kent County had recovered after the last sheriff had tormented the citizens he’d sworn to protect. No one was happier to see Sheriff Richard Dillinger go down than Jonny was. He’d spent a long time working for the dirty sheriff trying to get his department clear of the filth that sat in the chair that Baker now had.

  Jonny didn’t raise the taunt.

  “I wish you’d reconsider,” Baker went on.

  There was a beat of silence before Baker shook his head and closed his eyes.

  “I quit.”

  And with that, Jonny left.

  The pain in his chest didn’t subside.

  It never would.

  2

  “What are you gonna do about Jonny Spencer?”

  The question came out of the blue.

  Well, sort of. I had a feeling Miss Lola had been plotting her sneak attack since I’d arrived. I was actually impressed she’d made it all the way through lunch, me cleaning her kitchen, and us retiring to her front porch before she went for it.

  “Miss Lola,” I started, but got no further.

  “Don’t Miss Lola me, child.”

  I kept my eyes on the empty street in front of me and smiled.

  Lola Lane was a kick in the pants. I’d fallen in love with the old woman the first time I’d met her. The mother I never had. But she wasn’t mine, she was my friend, Kennedy’s mom.

  “Bobby,” she prompted.

  “I’m not going to do anything about Jonny.”

  My statement made my heart throb. I wanted to do something about Jonny. But the stubborn man didn’t want anything to do with me. No, that was untrue. He did want something, but he was too damn pig-headed to act on it. And over the years I’d known him, he’d had plenty of opportunities. There had been a time right after Holden and Charleigh had gotten back together I thought he’d take his shot. Then a case he’d been working on turned to shit and he’d withdrawn so far into himself he was now lost to me.

  Lost to all of us. He’d quit his job a month ago and had taken off. I knew where he was, we all did, but with his hasty departure, he’d made it clear he wanted to be left alone.

  “Someone needs to sort that boy out.”

  I couldn’t contain my sn
ort of amusement. Jonny was the opposite of a boy. No part of him could be described as such. Not his icy-blue eyes, not his solid, muscled frame, not his rugged good looks. Jonny Spencer was all man.

  “He’s been off since before his daddy died,” Miss Lola continued.

  “His daddy didn’t die,” I murmured. “Mr. Spencer was murdered.”

  “Indeed he was, Bobby. I’ve known the Spencers a good long while. Good people, caring, so much love to give they took in Doug and raised him like he was their blood. That boy wasn’t treated any different than Jonny was. There was nothing they could’ve done differently. That Doug was born evil. There’re times when nature overpowers nurture—Doug Spencer proves that to be true. Doug’s issues started before he met that sweet Macy. But the Devil got him something fierce. Only reason a man would take his hand to a woman, especially Macy. And he was a lying cheat. Made no attempts to hide it, he was a skirt chaser before he married Macy and he was a skirt chaser after. Only good thing that came from Doug and Macy are those two beautiful children. And they are their mamma. Good all the way through.”

  I was good friends with Jonny’s ex-sister-in-law, Macy. Thus I knew the scandalous story, all of it. Down to Doug being in debt up to his eyeballs with some seriously bad men, kidnapping Macy’s daughter Rory, Doug shooting and killing his father because Mr. Spencer wouldn’t give him money. And ultimately Jonny killing his brother.

  Thankfully, Macy was now married to Alec Hall and he was nowhere near evil. As far as I was concerned, the man was a saint. I loved that Macy, Caleb, and Rory now had a good man in their lives. But I loved more that Alec and his daughter Jocelyn had them.

  “I’m not sure why you’re telling me all of this. You know I know the story.”

  “I don’t think you do,” Miss Lola returned. “I don’t think you know how responsible Jonny felt—still feels. Jonny was the younger brother but he was always taking care of Doug. As long as I can remember- it was Jonny protecting Doug, getting him out of trouble, feeling guilty for how badly Doug behaved. Worried about how folks were whispering behind his parents’ backs. There’s a reason that boy grew up to be police. Some people are just born with it, a need to protect. That’s Jonny all the way back when he was a kid trying to shield his brother, shield his family, shield his mamma from the heartbreak. His whole life Jonny’s been looking out for everyone around him. Time’s come, someone needs to shield him and that’s gonna be you, child.”

  I gave up my contemplation of Miss Lola’s quiet street and I shifted in the wicker chair to look at the woman herself. Shrewd hazel eyes stared at me. Her once-blonde hair had long since turned silver. A look I’d spent time hoping I could pull off one day. But right then I wasn’t musing about what I’d look like in thirty years and if I could rock the silver the way Miss Lola did. No, I was squirming under the woman’s heavy examination.

  “I’ve chewed on it awhile, thinkin’ on our boy, Jonny, and it has to be you.”

  “Miss Lola, I think you have it all wrong.”

  “Nope.” She popped the P in nope and shook her head. “Mullin’ on it, I realized that boy’s been waiting on you his whole life, he just don’t know it. But I do. And I bet you ask that Nixon Swagger or my girl’s Jameson they’ll tell you the same. You’re the one. Perfect for him in every way.”

  I loved that Miss Lola thought that about me. Loved it with all my heart.

  Unfortunately, she was wrong. I wasn’t perfect for him or Jonny would’ve already done something about it.

  “I wish that were true but it’s not me—”

  “You stop playing games, you’ll see I’m right.”

  Me, playing games? I’d practically thrown myself at the man—twice. Once when I first met him and a second time after I’d…no, I wasn’t going to think about the second time. Not only was my ego still bruised but I never allowed myself to think about how close I’d come to dying on the floor of a dirty shack. How close Bent Bromley came to kidnapping Genevieve and killing Holden. How I still woke up in a cold sweat, scared, alone, and scared.

  “I’m not playing a game,” I denied. “Jonny knows how I feel.”

  Miss Lola made a disapproving clucking sound and I wondered how much she really saw. Probably too much. More than I wanted her to see. Hell, she’d paid more attention to me than my own mother did before she took off. Kathy Layne wasn’t a mom, she wasn’t a momma, and the last thing she had in her was the love of a mommy. Kathy was a mother and that was a loose description of the woman who’d birthed me. For as long as I could remember, she was more interested in a bottle of my daddy’s shine and going out. She hadn’t wanted to be a momma—she had big dreams after all. Big dreams of leaving Kentucky and making something of herself. She was going to leave that holler, and find what she’d been looking for. Not that I knew if she ever found it because she never came back to say.

  “You might have everyone else fooled but you’re not fooling me.”

  My spine went stiff and fear crept in. If she knew—really knew—who I was she wouldn’t like me for Jonny. But she didn’t know, no one knew. Not even Genevieve, and she was my best friend. And no one would ever know. I’d worked hard to hide who I really was, where I’d come from, who my kin were.

  No, Miss Lola didn’t know.

  Some of the tension started to ease but searing panic hit me hard when she continued.

  “We all have secrets,” she whispered. “Some of us are better at hiding them than others. You hide yours well. But I see you, Roberta. You’re starving for something, girl.”

  “Miss Lola—”

  “That’s all. That’s all I gotta say about that so you can relax, child. Besides, I’m not the one you gotta talk to, Jonny is. You stop playing this game and open your heart you’ll see I’m right.”

  There were a lot of things I’d wished for. They started when I was about five, with me wishing I were born into a different family. By the time I was ten, I’d wished I’d been born somewhere else. When I was fifteen, I’d wished I had no family at all. When I was eighteen, I’d wished I had a different life. There were a lot of wishes in between five and eighteen, loads of them. They never came true. Not a single one of them. So I knew wishing now was fruitless but I still did. And the thing I wished for the most was that Miss Lola was right—that somehow, someway I could help Jonny heal. That he’d open his eyes and finally see me.

  I knew that would never, ever happen.

  But I could be his friend. I was good at that. I was a good listener, a problem solver, loyal, and that was exactly what Jonny needed.

  Yeah, I could be his friend.

  God, why does that thought hurt so bad?

  3

  Jonny sat on the back balcony with his bare feet propped up on the railing, icy-cold beer in his hand, and watched as the last of the beachgoers packed up for the night.

  The sun was low in the western sky; only streaks of pink were left over the horizon. This was his favorite time of the day. It was called something, maybe the golden hour, or maybe it was the magic hour. Whatever it was called, it was the time of day where everything seemed softer. The harshness of the bright sun had worn off, the heat had cooled, the day was winding down.

  The sight before him—beautiful. The sounds of the waves crashing, hypnotic. Yet Jonny preferred the sun dipping under the woods behind his house in Cliff City. Preferred the sounds of the leaves rustling and the geese in the fall over beachgoers and waves.

  Then why the hell am I still here?

  The thought flew from his mind as quickly as it had entered. He was in Dewey Beach taking a sabbatical.

  You’re not taking a sabbatical, you’re hiding, you jackass.

  Weeks of isolation had done nothing to clear his mind. To soothe the guilt that ravaged his conscience. His friends had stopped calling after the first week. Nixon, Jameson, Weston, Alec, Chasin, and Holden had called him nonstop the first seven days. Jonny hadn’t picked up a single call. On day eight, Nix had sent a text telling Jonny he
had thirty days to get his shit together.

  It was day thirty, so Jonny wasn’t surprised when he heard the crushing of gravel. He didn’t bother to get up. The door was unlocked but even if it wasn’t, the stairs at the side of the house led straight to the second-floor balcony where Jonny was enjoying the view.

  No, you’re not, you idiot. You hate the beach.

  The sound of feet on the stairs had Jonny tipping his head back and closing his eyes. He’d been right, his thirty days was up. He’d just been wrong about who made the two-hour drive to tell him. Of all the people who could’ve come, Bobby Layne was the worst possible person.

  Bobby was…everything. Nothing. The woman he wanted more than air. The woman he never wanted to see again. She was everything and nothing and her mere presence was a stab in the heart.

  “Why are you here, Bobby?” Jonny asked, not opening his eyes.

  “How’d you know it was me?”

  Christ, her voice. He’d missed her voice. That Southern twang she tried to hide, but when she was pissed it came out in full force. Sweet and spicy, that was his Bobby.

  No, asshole, she’s not yours.

  Maybe thirty days of total seclusion hadn’t been the best idea. Not only was he talking to himself, he was now answering. Not only in his head like right then, but verbally when he was pacing the house at night. Hours and hours of wondering how his life had gone to hell. The best he could figure, it was the day his father had cheated on his mother.