Page 13 of Scarred Redemption

“You don’t frighten me, Maxsim. Absolutely you like to try, but you fail spectacularly.”

I grabbed the chuck, tossing it toward the water as her voice lingered in my mind. While watching Shadow regain his joy, his long legs pumping as he chased after the toy, the wind managed to carry a sound across the waves.

Mina’s little giggle.

Shadow bounded toward me, the chuck in his mouth and his eyes resuming their brightness. This time, I didn’t need to command him to drop the toy. He did so between my feet. Then he goaded me, backing away and crouching on his front legs.

Since I was able to laugh, I had a feeling all those ‘experts’ in my closeknit world were right about the fresh air doing me some good. My throw was farther, hitting the surf. While he raced into the water to claim his toy, I took a gulp of my drink and studied the waning sun.

“Remember on the darkest of days, the sunlight skimming across the water will remind you that every day is precious.”

Those were words Isabel had said to me after the third time she’d been to my house.

“There you go, boy. Get it for me.” I tossed it even further while trailing behind him as I walked along the shore. Why were the memories ones that most people would take for granted?

Because that’s what I’d done most of my life. The little things had been nothing to me until after Anastasia’s murder. My wife had tried to remind me, much like Isabel had done, that the smallest, most inconspicuous activities could eventually mean the most.

It had taken my wife’s brutal murder to realize that, and my sweet Isabel’s to reinforce what a monster I’d become.

Throw after throw, I sensed what the fuck I was doing. Yes, I wanted Shadow to realize I wasn’t going anywhere, but I also needed to feel as if I could continue living when the only aspect of my life that meant anything was seeking revenge.

I threw the chuck several more times until Shadow was the one to let me know he’d gotten tired. And my drink was empty.

Plus, he needed his water refreshed and his food bowl filled. All perfunctory and very normal activities. Everything Isabel had accused me of not wanting.

The tasks felt entirely normal and yet everything that allowed the memories to invade the darkest areas of my brain. Somehow, there was another full drink in my hand. Shadow finished his food and with a single tail wag, moved toward the door leading from the kitchen to the hallway.

I knew exactly what he was hoping to see. Mina running down the stairs, squealing just before she sank to her knees. He was also waiting for her bear hug so he could finally give her the sloppy kisses she’d so adored.

My hand gripped the edge of the counter, experiencing the same agony every muscle in his body presented. But Shadow did so with grace and in the morning, I’d find him on her bed. Still hopeful. Still wishing.

Still believing.

How could I shatter his little world by finding a way to tell him she was never coming back? He all but ignored me after giving up, his head hung as he walked by and toward his bed. Maybe if I were a decent man, I’d lie down beside him offering comfort and reassurance.

But I wasn’t that man.

I was just a brutal bastard with no heart or soul.

An even more bitter laugh rose to the surface as I headed for my office. Maybe if I buried myself in work, I could ease the agony. As soon as I walked into the room, my nose captured a whiff of Isabel’s perfume and my eyes immediately scanned the space. Was that her laughter?

My skin was electrified.

But there was silence. No Isabel. No ghosts.

Christ. What the fuck was wrong with me?

My chest rose and fell and with my vision divided between a bloody haze and pure clarity, I reminded myself I was the motherfucking Pakhan of the most powerful crime syndicate in this country. No one should be able to touch me. Not a fucking soul.

Yet they had, not once but three times.

I stood in the center of the room, trying to do what I did best in circumstances that irritated the fuck out of me. Organize and process. Whereas I’d believed the attack on the Dixie mafia had been handled with precision, I’d obviously been dead wrong. I’d acted on emotion, which had led to the further act of revenge against my company and my holdings.

And had destroyed my family.

Instead of utilizing the skills provided by my father’s tutelage, all embracing cold and callous methods, I’d allowed myself to become embroiled in fury and caught off guard.

That couldn’t happen again. The hunt would need to be straightforward, the captures without added difficulties, and the decisions made around them devoid of all emotion.