Trevor's Redemption E-Book

Amber Daulton

• Herausgeber: Amber Daulton
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The danger and lies are more than she can handle.
Shea O’Bannon feels like a fifth wheel around her romantically paired-off friends, but there’s too much slime in the dating pool for her to bother with it. Then she sees her two-timing ex, Trevor Madero, serenading the mostly female crowd at a live-music bar. God knows trouble follows him around, but her desire for him rushes back in anyway. After he rescues her from a handsy drunk, temptation takes over.
Determined to prove he never stepped out on Shea, Trevor slides back into her life—and her heart—with forever in mind. Even with the wall he keeps up to protect her, his secret criminal life weighs heavy on his soul and drives a wedge between them.
When the truth comes out and his enemies target them both, they’ll have to fight for their love, or kiss it goodbye.

– Book 3.5 in the sexy romantic suspense series, Arresting Onyx.
– Please note that Trevor's Redemption is a standalone novella that features scenes with organized crime, drug use (discussed), brief workplace assault, and kidnapping that may be uncomfortable for some readers. No cheating and HEA guaranteed!

Available in the Arresting Onyx series
Arresting Mason (Mason and Mia)
Arresting Jeremiah (Jim and Calista)
Ryan’s Temptation (Ryan and Chanel)
Arresting Benjamin (Benji and Belle)
Trevor’s Redemption (Trevor and Shea)
Arresting Alan (Alan and Hannah)

Leseprobe

Table of Contents

Cover Page

Title Page/Copyright

Trevor’s Redemption

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

Arresting Alan

Chapter One

About the Author

Read More from Amber Daulton

Trevor’s Redemption

Amber Daulton

––––––––

Trevor’s Redemption © 2023 Amber Daulton

First Edition

Published by Daulton Publishing

Cover Art by Satin Rose Designs

All rights reserved under the International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Warning: the unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in prison and a fine of $250,000.

Trevor’s Redemption

The danger and lies are more than she can handle.

Shea O’Bannon feels like a fifth wheel around her romantically paired-off friends, but there’s too much slime in the dating pool for her to bother with it. Then she sees her two-timing ex, Trevor Madero, serenading the mostly female crowd at a live-music bar. God knows trouble follows him around, but her desire for him rushes back in anyway. After he rescues her from a handsy drunk, temptation takes over.

Determined to prove he never stepped out on Shea, Trevor slides back into her life—and her heart—with forever in mind. Even with the wall he keeps up to protect her, his secret criminal life weighs heavy on his soul and drives a wedge between them.

When the truth comes out and his enemies target them both, they’ll have to fight for their love, or kiss it goodbye.

Chapter One

Shea O’Bannon scooted her chair farther back into the shadows of the dim, crowded bar. Ugh. Body odor wafted from the man who left the table next to hers. Hadn’t he ever heard of deodorant? She coughed, hacking a little. Though her table was next to the wall, she couldn’t very well duck under it or hide in the restroom until the guy she’d once dated left—or got the hell off the stage.

Trevor Madero serenaded the crowd with his throaty voice and sultry blend of blues-rock. As he shifted on a tall stool, his jeans highlighted the bulge she’d never had the chance to feel. His curly, oh-so-pullable hair bobbed as he swayed and strummed his guitar faster. The spotlight sharpened his cheekbones and gleamed off the badass dog chains around his neck. His snug black T-shirt shaped the fine chest she longed to lick.

Dear Lord. His presence, charisma, voice, everything that made Trevor irresistible washed over her with a hypnotic beat, tormenting her with what she couldn’t have. Rather, with what she denied herself. Why did she have to see him again? Why now? She tsked. Of all the bars in Denver, Colorado, she had to pick Frandare. What bad luck.

Chitchat and clanking bottles rumbled behind her like white noise. Several female patrons near the stage swooned as Trevor poured his ridiculously romantic lyrics into a microphone. As if he had any right to sing about love, desire, and forgiveness.

“Talk about crazy, Shea. The machine gave off enough sparks to set the room on fire, but I saved the day.”

The words penetrated the fog in her mind like nails tearing across the blackboard. She cringed as her coworker, Gordy Maher, boasted as if maintaining some computer equipment should earn him an award. His handsome face and short blond hair did nothing for her. Why had she agreed to meet him for drinks? So what if he’d been pestering her? Dating a coworker ranked high on her Don’t You Dare list. Players like Gordy weren’t her type, not anymore.

She downed a mouthful of her martini and moaned as the delicious spice skimmed across her tongue. Better not go there. No more thoughts of Trevor, but how could she lock her memories back in their cage when he crooned some twenty feet away? His very essence glued her ass to the seat.

“Shea? Hello? Anyone there in that pretty blonde head?”

She scowled at Gordy. Was he serious? If not for Trevor trapping her in place, she would leave Gordy’s sorry ass right then and there.

The prick chugged his beer before lifting it to flag the waitress for another bottle. “You haven’t said much, but that’s all right. Mouthy women have no substance.”

She snorted. “Neither do mouthy men.” How could she talk when he wouldn’t shut up? “I don’t see a point in prattling on about nothing.”

The fine hair on the back of her neck rose. Oh, no. Please. She turned back to the stage. Air lodged in her throat. Damn it. Trevor stared right at her. She forced in a breath and closed her eyes. Everything would be fine. She didn’t matter to him, so he wouldn’t bother her with more than a cursory glance. She rubbed her sweaty palms on her slacks and looked back at him. Their gazes locked. Electricity arced between them in bands of red-hot heat, or was she imagining that?

After a waitress delivered Gordy another beer, he gulped the brew and cleared his throat. “I don’t get musicians. Rock stars, sure. They make tons of cash and groupies flock to them. Nobodies like him”—he hiked his thumb toward Trevor—“need to cut their hair and find a real job. He’s a thug, believe me.”

She snapped her shoulders back. “My friend Belle is the best musician I’ve ever heard. Trevor is damn good too.”

He lifted his eyebrow. “You know that guy?”

As if he deserved the truth. She crossed her arms and glanced back at the stage.

Belle had introduced her to Trevor four months earlier at the Blue Magick Music Hall, one of the biggest independent music venues in the city. After two weeks and a handful of dates, Shea had dumped him and set her love life on the shelf.

Trevor stared at Gordy with pursed lips. As he strummed an ending note, he faced the audience and smiled.

People clapped and cheered. Someone whistled.

“Thank you. It’s been great.” Trevor announced the next performer and fist-bumped him as the crowd cheered even louder. He descended the steps at the right of the stage and passed through an open doorway to the backstage area.

Now. No more waiting. She stood and grabbed her purse from the back of her chair. “I have to go, Gordy. It’s getting late.”

He frowned and checked his phone. “It’s only seven. You haven’t finished your drink.”

She eyed the half-empty glass and shrugged. “Feel free to stick around. See you on Monday.” She dashed across the busy room. Would Trevor approach her? Try to talk with her? Any of the women who clapped for the bearded rocker now seducing them with a sexually overt number could be warming Trevor’s bed. She’d probably hurl chunks if some bimbo jumped into his arms when he came back out.

She pushed open a large metal door and stepped outside. Yes! Freedom. Warm, muggy summer air slammed into her, the early evening light stinging her eyes after the dimness of the bar. Who cared? She wove around passersby en route to the bus stop and lifted her ponytail as a breeze swept down the street. Ooh. Nice. The sweat on her nape dried. A car horn blasted as someone from behind her suddenly grabbed her arm. What the hell? Her heart leapt and stomach sank. She jerked free and flipped around, drawing up her purse as a weapon.

“Whoa. It’s me.” Gordy raised his hands, palms out, and laughed. “Don’t do the crazy woman thing and rail on your date.”

She scoffed and lowered the bag. So mouthy women had no substance, and women startled by pricks grabbing them were crazy? Right. “This wasn’t a date. Just two coworkers having drinks.” Which would never happen again. She nodded in the bar’s direction. “Go enjoy yourself. You don’t have to leave. I just want to go home and relax.”

“Sure. That’s fine. I’m all about relaxing.” He slung his arm around her shoulders and steered her down the sidewalk. “I’ll drive. You took the bus, yeah?”

She shrugged out of his hold. Though she’d walked from the KIKA-TV Headquarters and Broadcasting station to Frandare, she always took the bus from home to work and vice versa. Better that than wage war with her colleagues for a space in the station’s parking lot. “The bus is fine. Good night.” She strode on and sighed as he followed. Couldn’t he take a hint?

“How about a kiss goodbye?” He clutched her elbow and yanked her toward him.

“Oomph.” She landed hard against his chest and coughed as his beer-tainted breath struck her face. “Stop. Let go.” She craned her head as he bent toward her, and his wet lips smashed her cheek. Yuck! Her belly roiled. “Damn it, Gordy. Let me go!”

He did. Rather, someone jerked him back.

She gulped for air and choked on exhaust fumes. After she wiped Gordy’s spit from her face, she gasped at the muscled backside of her rescuer. He stood between her and Gordy like an insurmountable tattooed wall. Splatters of blue paint with a large black musical note on the forearm inked his left limb. A dark-red guitar stamped his other forearm with gray-toned ivy twining around it and disappearing beneath his shirtsleeve. His citrus scent drifted toward her in the breeze. Why did it have to be him?

“Hit the road, man. She’s not interested.” Trevor set his leather guitar case by his feet. Sunlight gleamed off the auburn strands in his dark-brown hair and deepened his naturally tanned skin to rich sienna. He cracked his neck with an audible pop.

An intimidation tactic? Her throat tightened. Strangers veered around the three of them and cast curious stares that shot goosebumps down her arms.

“All right, fine. Whatever.” Gordy rubbed his eyes and turned. As Trevor faced Shea, Gordy whipped back around with his fist raised.

“Trevor, look out!”

He pivoted, ducked Gordy’s flying right hook, and clocked him in the jaw. The idiot stumbled back as Trevor shook his head. “What the fuck, Gordy? Get out of here.”

The groaning man clutched his face. “Shit. You’re an asshole, Alto.” His bloodshot eyes watered. He scowled back at Shea. “You aren’t worth it, bitch. You’re too mousy for me anyway.”

Trevor stomped toward him.

“Stop. It’s okay. I’m fine.” Shea grasped her defender’s elbow as Gordy shoved past a few bystanders to flee. The heat flooding her face could poach an egg. “How do you know Gordy? Why did he call you Alto?”

Trevor arched his eyebrow at her hand on his arm and drew back from her grasp. “I perform at some bars that he goes to. Don’t know what he meant by Alto, though. Maybe something to do with me being a musician?” He scratched his stubbly jawline. “How did you get mixed up with him?”

“He’s an engineer at the station.” The following Monday at work would suck, but at least she and Gordy toiled away in different departments. She massaged her stiff shoulders to relieve the tension as strangers passed. “I’m sorry. He was drunk and apparently doesn’t know the meaning of the word no. Thank you for stopping him.”

“No big deal, but stay away from him. He’s bad news.”

She frowned. “I don’t need you to tell me that.”

“All right.” He lifted his hand to placate her and flashed a crooked smile. “Need a ride?”

“No.” Her cheeks cooled even as her pulse quickened. “Why did you follow me out? Don’t you have someone waiting for you?” Like some tramp? She bit back the bitter words.

“I didn’t follow you, but I was looking for you. We haven’t spoken since—” He stepped closer to her as a trio of soccer moms dragged their whining kids past him. “—our misunderstanding.”

Her mouth fell open. “You screwed another woman.”

He winced. Crimson flushed his cheeks. “No, I didn’t.”

“I know what I saw. Never mind, I have to go.” She stomped away from him.

“Damn it. Hold up.” He hurried alongside her, guitar case in hand. “You’re pissed. Fine, I get it. But what about Gordy?” His voice deepened. “He could follow you or show up at your home later.”

“I’m taking the bus, and Gordy doesn’t know where I live.”

“The bus makes a lot of stops. Would you rather get home in an hour or so, or sooner? My truck is down the block.” He hitched his thumb over his shoulder.

She scoffed and stopped in mid-stride. “First Gordy badgered me into letting him drive me home; now you are. If I say no, are you going to force a kiss on me too?”

He lurched back as though she slapped him. “Jesus, Shea. I’m not the jackass you think I am.” His nostrils flared as he breathed. “Forget it. Stay safe, all right?” He stalked away.

Her heart clenched, indecision tearing through her. She couldn’t let him go. Not like this. “Trevor, wait.” She chased after him and lightly gripped his elbow, pulling him to a stop. Static prickled her fingertips and stole the air from her lungs. “I don’t live far, maybe twenty minutes away in good traffic.”

He sighed, his chest deflating. “This way.”

After they darted across the street, she jumped into the hot cab of an older model truck. Oh, my. Trevor’s citrus-and-musk scent surrounded her like an aphrodisiac. Had anything ever smelled so good? The little button between her thighs throbbed.

Stop it, girl, none of that.

She fidgeted to soothe the ache and closed her eyes. Tonight, she’d get some answers—and it was about damn time.

****

Trevor dragged in an unsteady breath as he crossed the threshold into Shea’s home. “Nice place.” Though not his style. The fancy-ass apartment with its oatmeal-beige walls and floral-print crème sofa screamed cookie-cutter, as everything else did in the Highland neighborhood.

“Thanks. Make yourself comfortable.” She locked up behind him.

Shit. Trapped like a rat. Why did he agree to come upstairs? He’d only wanted to drive her home to ensure that druggie scum Gordy didn’t follow her, but he should’ve let her take the bus. How could he get out of here without pissing her off?

“We should talk, but I’ll need some wine.” She dashed into the adjacent dining-room-and-kitchen combo and returned with a bottle and two long-stemmed glasses. “You?”

“Sure.” After he sipped from his glass of rich merlot, he moaned from the taste of black cherries and vanilla splashing across his tongue. The strong scent washed over him and teased his nostrils. “It’s good. I don’t know much about wine, but I’ve had it often enough to tell the difference between the good stuff and bad.” Like he wanted to blab about wine. How should he start—with an explanation, an apology? One wrong word and she might flip out. Talk about walking on eggshells.

She set the bottle on the low-rise coffee table.

“You seeing anyone?” Aw, shit. Why did he ask that?

“Romantically?” She shrugged as he nodded. “No, I’ve been busy. What about you?”

“I’m single.”

“Yeah, right. An attractive guy like you, and a musician to boot? No, I’m sure you have at least a few women on speed dial.” She downed a long swallow of her wine. “I’ve had a rough day. My boss dumped a huge project on my lap, so I had to stay late and finish, and I couldn’t get out of meeting Gordy. I need to relax. My head is killing me.”

“Alcohol is no fix for headaches.” He swirled the red liquid in his glass.

She smirked, nodding. “I plan to drink myself into a stupor. I have the weekend off from work and no plans with my girlfriends. All of them are married or partnered off, so I’m not hanging out with them as much as I used to. It sucks being the third wheel.”

He could imagine. “I heard Belle got married and had her baby. I texted her a few times, but she never responded.” Not that he’d expected her to. Belle was loyal to her gals, and he’d inadvertently hurt one of them.

“Benji, her husband, worships the ground she walks on. He better, or Belle would flay him alive. Lindy was born a month early, but she’s doing well.”

“Good.” He could still hardly believe some gangbangers had kidnapped Belle earlier that year. Even though those fucktards now served lengthy prison sentences, the media hoopla and stress had likely sent her into premature labor.

“Have you eaten anything?” He grimaced as Shea drained her wine.

She snorted and set the glass beside the bottle. “Nope. I can’t believe you’re here. Of all the ways my crappy day could’ve ended, I didn’t picture this.” She cocked her head as a smile curled her lips. “Your hair is the first thing I noticed about you. It’s thick and wild, begging me to touch it.” She sashayed closer and threaded her fingers through the locks. “Just as soft as I imagined.”

Her breathy, wine-scented sigh fanned his face. Air shuddered through his lungs. He gently disentangled her hand from his hair and set his glass on an end table. “I should go.”

“No.” She gripped his shirt. “Stay. Talk.”

“I’m all for talking, but let’s keep our hands to ourselves.” He groaned as she stroked his chest. Heat lashed from his twitching pecs to his stomach. Back away, man. Stop this.

He didn’t move. How could he? Desire throbbed in his veins, every nerve ending waking beneath her sensual touch.

“Your tattoos are gorgeous.” She pulled up his left shirtsleeve and trailed her fingers across the mini musical notes and splashes of blue on his biceps. “Full sleeves?”

“Yeah.” As she lightly tweaked his nipple, he gasped and pulled back her hand. “Uh, Shea? What’s gotten into you?”

“Nothing yet. Maybe you’d like to remedy that?”

“Fuck.” His shaft ached. Where was the shy, hesitant woman he remembered? “Stop. You’ve had too much to drink. Don’t do something you’ll regret.”

“Why would I regret kissing you?” She wrapped her arms around him and claimed his lips.

Hell, yes! He gripped her waist and deepened the kiss. So good. The taste of cherries and her natural essence rocked through him. Her soft body molded to his, plaint beneath his hands. Warning bells rang in his ears as she unbuckled his belt. Should he surrender? If he gave her what she wanted, would she hate him in the morning?

He plucked her lips and stepped back, bumping against the large armoire and rattling the TV. He grasped her wrists in a light hold and straightened her arms at her sides. “We can’t do this. I want to, but you’re not thinking clearly.”

Something bitter pushed out the haze of lust clouding her blue eyes.

She cocked her eyebrow. “You’re refusing me? Am I not good enough for you?”

“Of course you are. You’re beautiful, kind, intelligent.” He stalked across the room for space and pinched the bridge of his nose, tension pounding behind his eyes. The overstuffed chair and coffee table between them stretched like the Great Divide.

She wrapped her arms around her middle. “Back when we were together, I wanted to take things slow, but maybe I would’ve nabbed your attention better if I’d put out. Maybe you wouldn’t have messed around behind my back.”

He shook his head. “It wasn’t like that.”

“I saw you making out with another woman.”

The truth lodged in his throat, choking off his air. If she knew everything, she would hate him more than she already did. Maybe he should let her think the worse and wash his hands of the whole damn thing? He’d done so many horrible things in his life, and someone as sweet as Shea didn’t belong in his fucked-up world. But he’d never cheated on her.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. I’m through looking for a relationship.” She braced her hands on her hips. “So you can screw me, and we’ll say goodbye afterward. I know the score now.”

He rubbed his chin, and the bristles stabbed his fingers. “I won’t sleep with you.”

“Do you only go for married women, like Alyson Deveral?”

Shit. Could his bad luck get worse?

He’d done his best to keep his relationship with Alyson on the down-low. After Shea caught them together in that backroom, he’d counted his blessings that she didn’t spread rumors sure to get him in hot water with Alyson’s husband, the district attorney.

“I figured you didn’t recognize Alyson because you didn’t rat us out. If the media caught wind of the DA’s wife having an affair...” He whistled and squeezed his tight neck.

“I told my friends and family that I dumped you for cheating, but I didn’t say who I found with you. You’re right. The media would’ve had a field day with a political sex scandal. Who knows if they would’ve dragged me into the mess, but I didn’t want to risk it.”

“Good. Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me. I kept quiet for myself, not for you.”

He’d take it any damn way he could get it. God, he’d been so stupid to get involved with a bitch like Alyson. Playing the field was one thing, but screwing a married woman? Moron!

“How did you even meet her? No offense, but I doubt you run in high-class social circles.”

He scoffed. She’d be surprised with the people he knew. “I met her at a nightclub two years ago. We talked, drank, and one thing led to another. A few weeks later, I saw her and Marlon Deveral on the news. I had no idea who she really was or that she was married until then. I should’ve broken things off with her, but I didn’t see a point. She hates her husband and wanted nothing from me but—well, you know.”

“Sex, right.” Shea filled her glass again. “Alyson and the DA seem like the perfect couple.”

“It’s a show for the cameras. Deveral is controlling and possessive. He’s cheating, too, but he could lose votes and public support in the next election if his or his wife’s affairs are plastered all over the Internet.” Trevor huffed out a breath as she gulped the wine. Damn. Her hangover in the morning would suck ass. “After I met you, I didn’t want to waste my time with her anymore, so I finally ended things.”

“That’s too little, too late.”

“C’mon, Shea. We only went on four dates and didn’t even sleep together. By all rights, I didn’t have to break things off with Alyson since you and I weren’t serious, but I wanted to be serious with you. For those two weeks we were together, Alyson was in Vail. Then she showed up at my gig, so I told her I met someone else.”

“Your tongue was down her throat when I opened the door.”

“No, her tongue was down mine.”

“You didn’t push her back until you saw me watching.”

“I was in shock. She pushed me against the wall and kissed me at the same second you walked in.” He flattened his hand on his upset stomach. His memory of the pain flaring in Shea’s eyes as she caught Alyson clinging to him clawed at his heart. How he hated himself for hurting her. If only she’d given him the chance to explain instead of running off. He swished his arms to signify the room. “Had I known where you lived, I would’ve camped outside your door until you opened up and listened to me. I’m sorry for what happened, I swear.”

“Sure, real sorry. I’ve gone to enough clubs and bars with Belle to know that backrooms are reserved for parties and for musicians to make out with groupies.”

“Yes, and for people to talk in private. Nothing happened with Alyson and me—other than the one kiss. I explained all this in those voicemails and texts I’d sent you. Did you even listen to them, read them?”

“No.” Shea stepped back and stumbled, hitting the side of a chair.

He leapt toward her and caught her before she could topple to the floor. She shuddered in his arms and peered up him with wet, wide eyes bluer than ocean gems. He set her half-empty glass down and grasped her waist to steady her.

She rested her hands on his chest. “I-I don’t know if I can trust you. Men always lie to get women into bed.”

“Not me.” He cupped her cheek. “You offered, and I refused, remember?”

Her throat expanded as she swallowed. Crimson consumed her face. “Oh, God.” She pulled from his arms and pressed the heel of her hands against her eye sockets.

He reached for her, then paused and dropped his arm. “I never meant to hurt you. If you don’t believe anything else I’ve said, please believe that.”

“You need to go, Trevor. I need time to think. I can’t even look at you.”

He flinched. Perhaps he didn’t deserve her understanding? He cursed and headed to the door. A sharp moan suddenly echoed from behind him. He whipped around as she grasped her stomach and crumbled to her knees.

“Whoa. Easy, there.” He scooped her off the carpet and held her close. God, she barely weighed anything. Had she not been eating right? As her soft, keening cries gnawed at his gut, he carried her down the hallway and found the bedroom. Moonlight pierced the blinds—how long had he been here?—and streaked the room in silver bands. “It’ll be all right. Sleep it off.” After he laid her on the queen-sized bed, he removed her shoes and tucked the blanket around her.

“I’m sorry.” She murmured the words as she rolled into a ball.