Searching For You: A New Adult Contemporary Romance (Anything For You Book 3) Read online

  Searching For You

  “Anything For You” Series, Book 3

  Faleena Hopkins

  Contents

  Copyright

  Description

  Epigraph

  1. Brendan

  2. Tommy

  3. Annie

  4. Tommy

  5. Brendan

  6. Tommy

  7. Annie

  8. Annie

  9. Tommy

  10. Annie

  11. Annie

  12. Brendan

  13. Annie

  14. Brendan

  15. Annie

  16. Tommy

  17. Brendan

  18. Annie

  19. Brendan

  20. Tommy

  21. Brendan

  22. Annie

  23. Tommy

  24. Brendan

  25. Annie

  Epilogue

  Thank you.

  Rue - from “You Don’t Know Me.”

  You Don’t Know Me

  Also by Faleena Hopkins

  About the Author

  Copyright © 2016 by Faleena Hopkins

  All rights reserved.

  Cover images licensed through shutterstock.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Created with Vellum

  Description

  Newly married, and with their first baby coming, Mr. and Mrs. Clark learn the hard way that someone hasn’t forgiven them for being happy while others are behind bars. In this twisting sequel to their love story, we are begged to wonder, do miracles exist? Can people redeem themselves, even after they’ve done the unthinkable? Can we forgive?

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  Darkness cannot drive out darkness; only light can do that. Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

  Martin Luther King, Jr.

  Chapter One

  Brendan

  Married a few months. Wife: not happy.

  My wife looks up at me with a disapproving frown. “It’s too small. I need a bigger one.”

  I manage to keep a straight face. “Honey. Never say that to me again.”

  Annie blinks, then bursts out laughing, her bright blue eyes sparkling under the lights of the converted parking lot on Castro Street as she points to another Christmas tree further down the aisle, an eight foot tall fir dangerously being admired by another couple. “I want that one.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  She grabs my shoulder with both hands, whispering, “Steal it before they get it!”

  “Now there’s the holiday spirit,” I chuckle, to which she gives me a playful grin.

  “You can do it, honey!”

  Clearing my throat and disengaging my hands from my coat-pockets, I hastily head over to the couple, side-stepping two children running by in San Francisco winter-wear, little boots crunching along fallen pine needles, and of course, no snow.

  It’s only two days before Christmas so the lot isn’t as plentiful as it once was, but we’ve just now gotten around to shopping for our first tree since this is the first time either of us has done this since we became adults. I guess we were procrastinating out of inexperience. Mark and I never bought a tree when we were roommates for the five years after college. Sara and I had one in college but I have chosen to forget that. Annie, having been a full-on Goth girl back then, celebrated Halloween more than Christmas, and when she left that darkness behind her and went to Italy, she celebrated at her ex-boyfriend’s mother’s house. She and Christiano didn’t get a tree of their own. He was older and she told me he felt it was something meant for children.

  Well, I’m giving her one of those. And I’m going to give her her first tree, too.

  As I walk up to the nice, normal-looking conservative couple in their late thirties, I’m determined, to say the least. “Excuse me!”

  The man’s thick coat is faced away from me as he discusses the tree with a tight-lipped brunette. He turns to look at me from underneath a green beanie hat pulled tightly over short red hair. “Yes?”

  His wife–or girlfriend?–stares at me with half curiosity, half thinly disguised annoyance.

  My left hand rises up to indicate the fir in a possessive yet apologetic manner, palm up. At least, that’s the effect I’m going for. “That tree’s already sold. I’m so sorry.”

  “It is?” the brunette frowns. She scans the tree. “It doesn’t have a sold tag on it.”

  Annie, who’s a little slower lately, arrives with smiling condolences for their loss. “Oh, isn’t that awful? I know. I told them they should put a tag on it, but they said since we were taking it right away, there was no need.” She looks at me.

  I quickly glance from her to them. “No need. It’s true. That’s what the guy said.”

  The woman regards us with dripping skepticism, pursing her lips even tighter. Her boyfriend–I just noticed, no ring–starts to bend. “That’s fine, we can get another…”

  But she cuts him off. “I just saw you at the other tree over there. Why were you looking at it if you’d already bought one?”

  Annie’s eyes innocently round, which looks cute as hell under her white knitted hat, her strawberry blonde hair hanging long and loose. “That?” she asks with amused disgust. The woman gives a clipped nod. “We were laughing about how tiny it was. I mean, look at that thing! It’s a runt compared to our big boy here. I need something bigger!”

  “To which I replied, never say that again,” I smile. The boyfriend laughs but stops when he sees his girlfriend’s face.

  “Let’s just get another tree, Lily.”

  “Show me your receipt.”

  “Lily!”

  My mouth slackens. I’m impressed at the woman’s audacity. She means to win, and I can respect that. But she doesn’t know my wife, and what she just said, and with that tone? Button pushed. Missile launched. When I glance to Annie’s face, my smile turns into a bared-teeth, thin-lipped grimace.

  Here we go.

  Annie lowers her voice. “I don’t have to show you a receipt.”

  Lily steels her eyes. “Well, then I’ll just go ask the employee if you’re lying.”

  Annie’s eyebrows rise a half inch. “Lily, is it?”

  The boyfriend and I share a look.

  “Just out of curiosity, Lily, what made you notice us?”

  “What?”

  “Why. Were. You. Watching. Us?” She’s asking like she already knows the answer. I wish I knew where she’s headed; I’ve got no clue.

  “I saw… you were expecting, and my eyes were naturally drawn to…” She quiets as though she’s said too much, her eyes giving away something only women can see.

  Annie looks around the lot, like the subject is closed. “That’s what I thought. Well, luckily there are a lot of trees still here…”

  “There aren’t that many,” Lily argues.

  “…so why don’t you go pick another tree, be nice and easy to get along with, so your boyfriend here will want to give you one of these, too.” Annie points to her pregnant belly with both index fingers. I stifle a snort.

  “What did you just say to me?” Lily cries out, aghast.

  Annie takes a step closer. “Look. I’m nine months in. Baby was due last week. My patience is zip and my manners? Shot. My apologies for saying it like it is, but this is how it is: be nice, you get one of these
, and keep one of those. Be a frowny-faced, tight-lipped Nazi, he will go running for the hills before you can say Happy New Year.” She points to the guy whose face is now as red as his hair, the truth having been told aloud. Annie announces, without malice, “He looks like a keeper! Why don’t you take his lead?”

  Stunned speechless, Lily lets her boyfriend guide her away, gently reassuring her, “We’ll get another tree. That’s their tree. It’s fine. Okay?”

  “Okay, I’m sorry. I just…” she trails off, dumbfounded.

  “It’s okay. Let’s just forget it.” He glances back to me and guy-to-guy, I can see he’s more than a little bit grateful, if not amused.

  Eying my badass wife, I ask, “Was it worth it?” as soon as they’re out of earshot.

  Annie shrugs. “I’ve got a problem with authority. You know that.”

  “The second she demanded the receipt...”

  Annie shrugs, trying not to feel guilty. “...It was over. I can’t stop myself. But come on! She was so rude!”

  Not bothering to argue, I’m regarding the scope of this tree. “How are we going to get this bad boy home now that we’ve got it?” I glance down. She meets my eyes with a helpless look.

  “Uh oh.”

  “Yeah.”

  She stares at it, looks at me, stares at it some more. Then one corner of her mouth tugs up. “You want to tell them they can have it?”

  “No way!”

  We look at it some more, until she announces, “No, really! That’s the best thing to do anyway. Go give it to them. Tell them we changed our minds. Here, I’ll do it!”

  As she turns, I grab her around the waist and turn her to face me. Even with this baby-belly, she’s like a small paperweight to me. She gasps at the speed with which I’ve managed her body, and I lean in closely, holding her eyes. “This is the tree you wanted. We’re getting this tree home. I want you to have the best Christmas you’ve ever had.”

  “By stealing a tree from someone?”

  I kiss her nose, repeating as I nod, “By stealing a tree from someone.”

  “Isn’t that bad karma?” she murmurs against my lips.

  I kiss her softly. “You should have thought of that before. Now let’s see if they deliver.”

  Chapter Two

  Tommy

  Incarcerated a few months ago. For life. Me: not happy.

  “They’re comin’ for ya, Tommy!” whispers Dinon from the cell next to mine. He’s always watching. He sees things before everyone. Me? I don’t care to watch. I like to keep to myself. Keep my head down. Maintain my virginity. And aside from that, stay out of the game. And there’s a deadly serious game in jail, just like in the movies and T.V., only it’s worse because it’s real.

  I gotta get out of here.

  “Who’s coming, D? Santa Claus?”

  “Listen,” he hisses.

  I straighten up on my elbows on the bed. Then I hear them. Multiple pairs of methodically advancing footsteps. They could belong to anyone. It’s the not knowing that’s got my teeth on edge and goosebumps rising slowly. I keep to myself in here. But I knew that couldn’t last forever.

  “Shit,” I mutter under my breath, jumping down from the top bunk. The second I hit the cement, The Chain Gang appears in my doorway, a group of Italians I’ve carefully avoided. Until now.

  “Well, well, well. Pretty Boy. If it ain’t the pretty boy who missed,” smiles Antonio who controls the gang as well as most of the Caucasian inmate population. He’s got a scar sliced across his neck from a near fatal knife fight in here last year. The other guy missed the near and went straight to the fatal. But what’s creepier is he doesn’t blink.

  I ask with measured caution, “How’s it goin’ Antonio?”

  “We were wonderin’ why you don’t sit with us? We noticed you keep to yourself and we were wonderin’ if you might be lonely. Maybe you need some friends.”

  I blink. He doesn’t. I glance at the three guys flanking him. I look at Antonio again. I know this little speech of his means he’s got a job for me. If I don’t do it, I’ll be headed to the infirmary the second after I close my eyes to sleep. That’s what happened to the last guy. He didn’t make it back on his own two legs.

  The truth is, I’ve got no one to turn to in here, and I need a friend. He’s offering me what he considers friendship, which is really thinly veiled indentured servitude. But if I take it and join them, I might have some protection. Either way, it’s a horrible life.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Can we talk in private?” he asks, pretending like there is such a thing as privacy in here.

  “Sure.” I back into the cell and he walks in, but his ghouls stay back and turn around as though faced away they can’t hear us.

  Antonio lowers his voice and his chin, looking at me from underneath his eyebrows. “There’s a guy who’s not treated me with the respect I deserve.”

  My chest tightens. “Yeah?”

  He stares at me. After a few charged seconds, he finally says, “Yeah.”

  My knuckles itch, ready to defend myself as best I can. I'm beginning to sweat and I hope he can't see. But I’d lay odds he can. “Well, this guy must be a fuckin’ moron, then.”

  At this, Antonio’s eyes dance with amusement, but that could mean anything from he thinks I’m funny to he thinks I’m dead. He nods a couple times–just short, slow jerks of his head.

  “He is.” It seems like hours go by before he adds, “You know Morales?”

  I blink again, which pisses me off. “Lenny Morales? Yeah.”

  “You know how you missed with that gun of yours?”

  I don’t bother to tell him I didn’t miss, I just didn’t kill Brendan when I shot him. “Yeah.”

  “Don’t miss again.” He holds my eyes with meaning, and turns to walk out, casual as can be.

  “I don’t have a…” I start to say gun but he stops me.

  His hand goes up and he looks at me around the over-developed mound of his shoulder. “Get creative.”

  “Hey Tony, guards are comin’ this way,” one of his ghouls whispers.

  “We were just leavin’,” Antonio says. “And don’t fuckin’ call me that.” He walks past the guy and the ghouls all share a look. I watch my doorway empty again, wondering how I’m going to kill a guy with my bare hands. I don’t want to do that. I’m not a murderer. I’m a thief. Yeah, I shot my ex-friend, but we’re all capable of everything given the right circumstances. It’s not like I walk around thinking of ways to take people’s lives. Their belongings, yeah. Their lives? No.

  Before I have a chance to soak in exactly how screwed I really am, my doorway fills with a guard’s surly glare.

  “You’ve got a visitor, Pretty Boy.” The second he says that nickname, I realize he's working with Antonio, and the sense of foreboding deepens. A frown involuntarily appears and I try to hide it before he sees he’s gotten a rise out of me, but I fail. Ignoring his slimy, victorious smile, I walk out and he follows me, headed toward Visiting. As we pass Dinon’s cage, I glance over and lock eyes with him. We’re on okay terms, which means only that we don’t want to rip each other’s throats out. He just stares back at me, not showing any sign of his thoughts.

  The guard barks, “What are you staring at, Washington?”

  Dinon looks away, and witnessing it, a part of me dies inside. We’re all just trained dogs.

  In Visiting, I pick up the phone and watch my cousin pick up his on the other end of a bulletproof, fingerprint splotched, thick plastic window. He’s the only one who visits me ever since I spilled the beans to reduce my sentence for the shooting as my little fuck you to my father, the sonofabitch. With what the detectives found during the search of their home, it forced both of my parents to go deep into hiding. Over two hundred robberies have now been linked to us, and even more stolen property recovered that was thieved by my ancestors, dating all the way back to 1582.

  The place was gutted.

  I wasn’t a com
plete traitor with my testimony. I didn’t rat out Bruce or Uncle Paul, for Bruce’s sake. The way I see it, my cousin and I were born into this life and we couldn’t help that. They taught us young. But I gave my folks a chance to run, warning Bruce I was going to rat them out, so he could warn them. He’s our go-between. Otherwise they never would have escaped. Now they’re on the run, and that I’m fine with. Serves them right for doing this to me. It’s their fault I am the way I am. Why should they live a normal life when I’m stuck in here? Yeah, not gonna happen.

  “How’s it going, Brucie?”

  His brown eyes harden, but then he sees my smile. “Don’t be like him. It’s not funny,” he grumbles.

  “Well, you should know better than to come in here wearing that pink scarf.”

  Bruce rolls his eyes. “It’s magenta.”

  “Right,” I chuckle.

  He waits for me to get serious. “How are you?”

  I hit him with a stone-cold sober stare. “Seriously?” He shrugs, which irritates me to no end, forcing me to launch into him. “It’s two days to Christmas and they don’t exactly decorate in here. And this morning I got a visit from a guy who is offering friendship if I do something I don’t wanna do.” Off his look, I correct him, “No, not that. Worse.”

  Bruce’s eyebrows knit together. “Yikes.”

  “Yeah. So do me a favor and never ask me how I’m doing again? If you don’t have something good to tell me, then let’s just keep to the chitchat we normally have. I need the distraction. Alright?”

  Bruce nods, but his attention leaves the subject as he shiftily glances to the crying lady next to him who’s flanked by two little kids, plus a baby on her lap. Then he glances to the guard standing by the entrance. The familiar gleam in his eyes when he looks back to me sparks my blood. But I don’t betray my curiosity. Neither of us wants the guards paying attention. “I’ve got really good news.”