Page 3 of Redeemed (Redeemed #1)

Chapter Three

Alexander

S weat pours down my forehead as my feet slap against the surface of the treadmill. I know I should slow the speed and not push myself so hard—it will be a long night—but I keep going. This is the only time I’m able to clear my mind enough to think through everything that’s going on in my life.

One day, my life will be back in forward motion, and I won’t feel as if I’m running in place as fast as I can.

It’s been two years since I made the decision to abandon the dangerous life I knew and bet on a future I could build for myself.

For years, my identity was tied to The Reapers, a ruthless mercenary group only loyal to the highest bidder, until an unexpected wake-up call had me severing ties with the group for good.

One of the best decisions I’ve made to date, even if leaving came with complexities.

Honestly, the stress probably wouldn’t plague me as much, if I was only responsible for the success and safety of my own life.

Considering I uprooted my baby sister and best friend from the life they knew too, failure is not an option.

Neither of them would hold me accountable for their wellbeing, but they don’t need to. I put that responsibility on myself.

The three of us moved to Georgia from New York a few years ago, putting physical distance from our past. My sister Victoria had an idea to start a high-end lounge club in the entertainment district, and I funded the plan.

The concept to incorporate a secret VIP area that operates as a neutral meeting ground for criminals was mine.

If there’s one thing my past experiences have taught me, it’s that the powerful men that run those criminal organizations rarely have a public safe space.

So, I tapped into the market and made one for the Atlanta area, providing a location where kingpins and mob bosses can meet, settle disputes, and broker deals civically.

Some would say I left one dangerous situation for another, but Emerald Nights lounge is mine, and I answer to no one.

The music blaring through my headphones is interrupted by the ringtone assigned to my mother. I slow the treadmill down to a walk before answering her weekly call. For once, I’m in a good mood and relish the opportunity to catch up.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Hi, honey, how are you?”

It doesn’t matter how long she’s lived in New York, my mother’s southern drawl never left. Originally from Georgia, she and my father moved north when they were pregnant with me after my father received a job offer he couldn’t refuse.

“I’m good, just getting a quick workout in before getting ready for work. How are you?”

She goes on to tell me about the latest book her book club is discussing this month, and how thrillers are her new favorite genre. I’m happy to hear that her life sounds normal because it’s exactly what she deserves after the hell my father has put her through.

“Sweetie, I’m proud of you and Tori working together—running a successful business. How is your sister? I think she’s avoiding my calls again.”

It wouldn’t surprise me if Tori is avoiding Mom.

Since we left home, she has been very selective about the type of energy she brings into her life.

Yes, our mother has always been the stronger parent, but Tori hasn’t forgiven her for staying with Dad throughout his addiction.

So, if she’s setting a boundary, there must be a reason why.

“Tori is doing fine—don’t worry too much about her. She’s just been busy with running the lounge. Things are calming down here since the weather is getting cooler, though, so I’ll ask her to give you a call when she’s free.”

“Oh okay, well, as long as she’s doing well, don’t pressure her to call me. I know how she likes her space, and I don’t want to encroach.”

The sadness in her tone makes me want to comfort her, but we’ve all set boundaries when it comes to our family relationship. It’s taken a long time to get to this point and it’s not time to start forcing connections.

“Just give her time, Mom.”

My mother clicks her tongue before moving on to her next line of business. “Your father is going strong with his gamblers anonymous meetings. It’s been a full year since he had a slip up.”

I make a non-committal noise, acknowledging I heard her statement, but not going down that path.

The topic of Dad is the boundary I set. She can provide me updates, but I don’t comment on it.

I’m definitely not ready to forgive the turmoil my father’s decisions caused our family.

Gambling away savings, using bill money to feed into his addiction, and forcing me to grow up much quicker than I needed to.

I’ve worked since I was fifteen, helping Mom pay the bills, and when I’d had enough and finally left home, Tori came with me because she’d had enough too.

Mom and I thought we were shielding her from the destruction Dad was causing, but she was smart enough to see it.

The thought of my upbringing always leaves a sour taste in my mouth.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve learned that addiction is a mental disease.

I understand why Mom didn’t leave, and I don’t hold it against her.

Tori and I just haven’t found it within ourselves to forgive our father.

Is it hypocritical to hold a grudge against my father when I run a business for criminals?

Maybe, but I do what it takes to keep my family protected—something he failed to accomplish.

I slow the treadmill to a stop and grab my phone off the holder.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta get going. Patrick should be here to pick me up for work. We’ll catch up again soon. If you need anything, let me know.”

We say our goodbyes, with a promise to chat again next week.

Mom says she wants to come visit Emerald Nights and let her hair down like old times. Once things settle for the season, maybe I’ll extend the invitation.

I quickly shower and style my hair, noting that it’s about time for a haircut.

Then I take a stroll through my closet of suits to choose my armor for the day.

There’s something about dressing for the business I own that makes me feel in control of my fate.

When people see someone in a well-tailored suit, they respect the power the wearer wields. Or at least, that’s what I tell myself.

My home office is where a lot of my work takes place, so I don’t have to spend as much time at the lounge.

Although, I make it a point to have my presence known at Emerald Nights a few times a week so my employees know I’m paying attention.

It also gives me a chance to show my face on the VIP floor.

It’s important to remind our unique clientele that I promise fatal consequences if our strict rules are broken.

I round my desk to find a note from Patrick, my head of security, letting me know that he drove Tori to the office early and would be back for me around ten.

She must have a new VIP applicant to meet with—that tends to be the only time we don’t ride into work together.

Tori and Patrick handle the interview and application process, but I issue the final approval.

I wasn’t thrilled about her being involved with the VIP business, but she swears by her ability to read people.

She’s almost never wrong so who am I to disregard her.

The thought of a new applicant reminds me that I have a list of potential new clients to deny or approve.

I spend the next couple of hours going through the financial account of Emerald Nights.

We are passing our goals for the second quarter in a row and I breathe a little easier knowing this entrepreneurial endeavor wasn’t in vain.

While the VIP memberships bring in good money, Tori deserves all the credit for the design, marketing, and workforce that keeps the legal side of the business moving.

We’ve been listed in many local magazines as the up-and-coming luxury lounge to watch.

I couldn’t be prouder of what we’ve accomplished together.

Patrick: I’m parked out front when you’re ready.

True to his word, Patrick arrives at the house ten minutes before he said he would. Normally, I would drive myself in when Tori and Patrick go in early, but his note also stated we had private information to discuss.

When I get in the car, Patrick is looking through a black file folder. He closes it as I settle in, securing my seatbelt and begins to talk, but my phone rings, cutting him off.

“This is Alex,” I answer briskly, not having the patience for most people.

“Alex, it’s Jonah, with Lockdown Security. I’m scheduling equipment upgrades, and I wanted to reach out before we’re booked out for months.” Jonah’s raspy voice filters down the line.

We pay for the highest membership Jonah’s company offers to make sure we are up to date on the latest tech.

“Whatcha got for me?” I glance toward Patrick, watching as his hand taps restlessly on his leg.

“We just received a shipment of new facial recognition cameras and software. Just completed a three-month test run at one of our locations. It’s some high-tech shit.

I would honestly recommend it at the lounge and on your property.

” He nerds out over the specs of this new equipment, giving me far more information than I can keep up with.

“How much are we talking to upgrade both locations?” Even I can hear the skepticism in my voice.

“Looking at twenty-five thousand for the lounge and ten for your home location.”

Shit, that’s a lot of money. I drag my hand over my face as I mentally calculate the numbers versus the worth of the upgrade.

“I’ll talk to Tori and have her email with you about scheduling.”

“Sounds good!”

I end the call, quickly opening an email to send to Tori regarding the upgrades. Patrick interrupts my thoughts as I finish typing. “Alex, The Reapers have been spotted in town, and we don’t have a clear idea of who they’re here for.”