Wicked Redemption (Dark Book 2) Read online

  Amber stepped over to the bed and stroked my hair. Her touch jolted me.

  “I don’t want to turn him in, Amber. He did help us get to the hospital.” I said quietly awaiting her reaction.

  Her hand fell from my head. I watched her eyes. She appeared to be struggling to answer.

  “Amber, I know what he did was awful not just to me, but to you. If you want me to, I’ll tell the police everything.”

  She shook her head.

  “He’s your brother, Ash. I can’t forgive him right now and I don’t want any contact with him.”

  I nodded.

  “Has anyone heard from him?”

  “I haven’t seen or heard from him since he dropped us off at the hospital. I just can’t see him, Ash.”

  “I understand, Amber. He’s a dangerous guy, but he holds keys to my past. I have to know him. Can you understand?”

  Her eyes remained downcast. Outside, I could hear the reporters swarming the front lawn. I heard Omar, the security guard I’d hired, ordering them to leave.

  I took her hand and held it to my chest.

  “Amber, you’re the most important person in the world to me. If you never want me to see or speak to Ayden again, I won’t.”

  Amber looked up and met my eyes. She smiled.

  “Ash, I meant what I said before in the hospital. I love you. If you want to pursue Ayden for answers, feel free. Just be careful.”

  Looking into her eyes, I knew without a doubt I loved this woman.

  “Amber, I---“

  Suddenly, Wilma burst into the room.

  “Mr. Blackthorne! There’s a man here who is demanding to speak with you!”

  I closed my eyes briefly. I didn’t need this today.

  “Who is it, Wilma?”

  Amber moved towards the door.

  “Wilma, Mr. Blackthorne can’t be disturbed today. He’s suffered a terrible injury as you know and can’t be disturbed.”

  “Yes, I know that, Miss Michaelson, but this man demands to see Mr. Blackthorne. He says it’s urgent.”

  “It’s fine, Amber. I want to know who it is.”

  The petite, older woman appeared flustered.

  “He says it’s about your father.”

  I nearly jumped off the bed.

  “My father? What about him?”

  Amber tried to intervene between us.

  “Wilma, Mr. Blackthorne’s father has been dead for nearly two years. Just who is this man?”

  I spun my body around until my legs dangled from the bed. I searched for a pair of pants.

  “No, Ash, please. I’ll figure out who this man is.”

  Spying a pair hanging over the leather chair in the corner, I raced to get them.

  “No, Amber, I’m handling this. I’m fine.”

  Wilma and Amber followed me down the hall. Still shirtless, I descended the stairs to find an older man standing in the study. It was my father’s oldest friend, Clayton.

  “Ashton!” He held out his arms to me. He had aged quite a bit since I’d last seen him. He was tall and thin with graying hair. He was dressed in a dark blue suit.

  I was starting to feel dizzy from standing up so quickly. After embracing him, I gestured for him to have a seat. I sank down onto the leather couch.

  “So, Clayton, what brings you here?”

  Wilma and Amber appeared in the doorway looking concerned.

  “Are you okay, Ash?” Amber looked at Clayton with curiosity.

  “I’m fine. Clayton was a friend of my father’s. Please have Gloria bring in some water please.”

  In other words, I wanted to be left alone with him. I needed to know why he had come to see me. I hadn’t seen him since my father’s funeral.

  “How are you doing, Ash?” Clayton’s blue eyes looked at me full of concern.

  “As good as could be expected, Clayton.”

  He nodded.

  “So, what exactly happened, Ash?”

  I leaned back in the chair. I was starting to shake.

  “I was stabbed, Clayton. I’m sure you’ve heard the news.”

  He looked paler than he had when I first saw him.

  “Yes, Ash, about that….I wanted to apologize to you, Ash. I knew all about Ayden. Your father---“

  “What? Why are talking about Ayden?” I sat back astonished.

  So my father had confided in someone after all.

  “Come now, Ash. The media is all abuzz. Someone on social media leaked to the press that Ayden Donovan is your brother. Rumors are flying that he stabbed you in a jealous rage over your inheritance.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “That’s not….that’s not the way it happened.” I choked on my words. I couldn’t believe someone had leaked this on social media. I thought only Amber, Ayden and myself knew the truth about what happened.

  “I know about Ayden, Ash. You know how close your father and I were. He came to me right after Ayden was incarcerated. He was distraught, as you might imagine, that one of his sons was in prison.” Clayton rubbed his hands together.

  “So what did he say?” I sat back trying to absorb his revelation.

  “He told me about Ayden’s story: how Debra abused him for years, how he came to be in the place he was. Terrible story, I won’t bore you with the details. Frankly, I’ve forgotten the specifics. I just know Ashler was devastated by what Ayden told him. He swore me to secrecy. He only wanted to reveal Ayden’s identity after Ayden was released from prison. As you know, unfortunately, your father passed before that could happen.” Clayton stopped and took a sip of his water.

  I ran my hands through my hair. This was all too much. I couldn’t help but wonder why hadn’t my father told me?

  “Ashler was afraid that Ayden would be a danger to you. Not physically, just emotionally. He didn’t know how you would react to having a brother. He didn’t know how Ayden would feel about you either. It was a terrible time for him. It weighed on him tremendously. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what hastened his death.”

  Shaking my head, I glared at him.

  “No, what hastened my father’s death was pancreatic cancer.”

  Clayton’s face flushed red.

  “Yes, of course. After your father died, I debated with myself about coming to you about Ayden. He was still in prison and I knew your father didn’t want you to know about him until he was released. But, after his release, he disappeared so it seemed from the New York area. During that time, I was diagnosed with lung cancer.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that, Clayton. How are you doing?”

  He waved his hand.

  “Not so good, Ash. I’ve been told I’m terminal now. That and finding out about what happened to you drove me to come here today. I wanted to explain to you some things before I---“ He broke off.

  Understanding the implication of his words, I nodded.

  “So, I wanted you to know, Ash, why your father never told you. He and I were best friends when we were younger. I followed him out to Haight Ashbury after he came back from Vietnam.”

  “Haight Ashbury?” I was stunned.

  “Yes, when your father came back from Vietnam he, like many others, had been so deeply affected by the carnage over there. He was shell shocked, as they say, for the first month or so. Once he snapped out of it, the so-called Summer of Love was happening in San Francisco and that appealed to both of us. We took off together in a VW bus! Can you believe it? We found a whole bus of girls going out there and we jumped in! It was crazy.”

  My father, a hippie?

  “When we got out there, of course, we found sex and drugs running rampant. Your father met a girl immediately who took us to her commune.”

  What? This was insanity! Clayton must be going senile.

  “My father? Clayton, I think you’re mistaken.”

  He reached into his pocket and produced a packet of photos.

  “Take a look, Ash.”

  Flipping through them, I immediately re
cognized my father even with his long hair. There were several beautiful young girls surrounding him. He held a guitar in his hand as well.

  Guitar?

  “That’s him.” I sighed, handing the photos back.

  “Keep them, Ash. There’s no use in me hanging on to old memories anymore.”

  I placed them on the table.

  “So, my dad was a hippie? It’s news to me, but what does that—“

  “—have to do with now? Quite a lot, I’m afraid. You see, your dad and I were in a band, Alice’s Attic. Oh Lord, we had such fun! Your father was the lead singer and on the guitar….”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  He nodded.

  “Of course. Didn’t you ever listen to his records?”

  I searched my memory trying to come up with some shred of recognition. Alice’s Attic. It didn’t ring a bell.

  “I heard him listening to records often. It was all old 70s glam rock. I never paid much attention. As far as singing, I heard him sing to himself once or twice, but I never heard him play any damn guitar.”

  “That’s a shame. He was very good. We had quite a following out in Southern California.”

  I waved my hand at him.

  “So why did he quit if he was so good?”

  Clayton shrugged.

  “I think it had to do with the pressure your grandfather was putting on him to come home, Rita giving birth to Angel, and of course, the terrible business with Charlie.”

  My mind was swimming. I couldn’t absorb all this new information. The room was stuffy. I stood up and pushed open all the windows.

  “Charlie?”

  Clayton waved his hand at me.

  “Manson. I know you’ve heard all about him.”

  Oh my God.

  “Clayton, are you telling me my father knew Charles Manson?”

  “Well, we only met him once. Neither of us thought much of him. It was some of the girls who hung out at his ranch mingled with the girls at our place. Once Manson and his family slaughtered those people it killed the whole movement out there. I know some people say Manson didn’t really kill the 60s, but for a lot of us he did. It sort of brought us back to our senses. At least that’s how it was for your father and me. After that, we just focused on the band for a few years. Then, Rita got pregnant.”

  I swallowed hard. This was unreal. Clayton must be having delusions from the cancer.

  “Okay, Clayton, my dad was a hippie, in a band, and knew Charles Manson. What does this mean today?”

  Clayton sighed. His hands were shaking.

  “Do you mind if I smoke? I’ve tried so hard to do this without smoking. I just can’t.”

  I shrugged.

  “I generally don’t allow it, but you can stand by the window and blow the smoke out there.”

  He stood up and shuffled towards the window. His frailty reminded me of my father before he passed. The guy didn’t have long that was for sure.

  “Dad was dating a Rita after Debra left. But that couldn’t be the same—“

  Clayton took a long drag on his cigarette.

  “Yes, it was the same woman.”

  “So, that little girl I used to play with….”

  “Was your sister.”

  What?

  That was it. I’d heard too much. Clayton obviously was suffering from terrible delusions. Perhaps it was due to his cancer treatments.

  “Well, I can’t be certain of that, Ash. Neither could your father. Rita got pregnant in ‘73. She gave birth to her daughter, Angel. Immediately, she proclaimed Ashler as the father, but it was commune. We all had sex regularly with a variety of people usually while high on something. So there was no way to really know. Your father, Rita, and Debra were in a relationship together.”

  No surprise about Debra. I wouldn’t have put anything past that woman. But to hear about my father’s sexual escapades was disconcerting to say the least.

  “Okay, so you’re telling me that my dad, Debra, and Rita were together. I buy that about Debra. I don’t remember much about Rita. She and Dad were only together for a year or so. I do remember the little girl though. They called her Amelia.”

  “That’s it! Amelia not Angel.”

  I was skeptical. This was just too unreal. I’d never heard anything about any of this. But, my father never told me about Ayden either.

  “Clayton, I’m not in the best condition as you can see. I’ve been through a lot. I’m trying to recover. This really isn’t the time.”

  He flicked his cigarette out the window.

  “I know, Ash. I’m sorry, but when I heard about what happened to you I felt guilty. I should’ve told you about Ayden when your father died. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened.” He shuffled slowly back to his chair.

  “I don’t know, Clayton. Maybe it would have, maybe it wouldn’t. I just don’t know what to make of it all. I’m still recovering. I just can’t get my mind around all this.”

  “It’s a lot, I know. I just wanted to tell you before I passed. I wanted you to know who your dad was. He wasn’t a bad person because of his past. He had wild times like a lot of people do. But I wanted you to know your father had every intention of doing right by Ayden. He never knew he had another son until Ayden walked into his office one day. He was skeptical thinking that Debra had sent him to scam money out of him. But they did a DNA test. Ayden is your brother. Your full blood brother.”

  I held my head in my hands. I knew from the moment Ayden had spit that information out to me it was true. The resemblances between us were so strong.

  “What about Amelia? Is she my sister? Whatever happened to her?”

  Clayton shook his head.

  “That I’m not too sure about. I only saw Rita when she came back and was with your father. The last I heard about her was she died in a fire. As far as Amelia goes, I don’t know anything about her. She may or may not be your sister.”

  “Did my father know anything about her?”

  “He was never sure. When Rita and he started dating again, she told him Amelia wasn’t his. But Rita started getting back on drugs again which is why your father broke it off with her.”

  At this point, I didn’t care. My stomach was churning and it felt as though I had drank acid. I just wanted to go back to bed.

  “Clayton, I’m not feeling well. I must ask you to leave now. Thank you for coming.” I stood up to shake his hand.

  “Son, you’ve turned out well. Your dad would be proud. You won’t be seeing me again. I don’t think I’ll last out the month. It took all my strength to come here today. I just wanted to do right by your father. I should’ve told you this a long time ago.”

  “I’m sorry you’re ill, Clayton.”

  We briefly embraced as he turned to leave.

  “Thank you, Clayton. I know my dad considered you a good friend.”

  Tears dampened his face.

  “I loved him, Ash. He was one of the best friends I ever had. I miss him. I expect I’ll be seeing him again soon.”

  Saddened and shocked by his revelations, I watched him leave. I knew I’d never see him again.

  Clutching the banister, I ascended the stairs back to my room. Amber was waiting sitting in the chair by the window.

  “Are you okay, Ash? You’re as white as a sheet!” She jumped up to be by my side.

  “I don’t really know, Amber. I just found out some very disturbing news about my father.” I sank down on the bed.

  “I’m sorry, Ash. Who was that man?”

  “An old friend of my father’s. Amber, I can’t talk about it right now.”

  Collapsing back onto the pillow, Amber stayed by me until I drifted off to sleep.

  My dad, a hippie.

  Who would’ve thought?

  4

  Amber

  After the stabbing, I stayed with Ash. We were getting closer which pleased me to no end. I felt a special bond between us and I knew he felt it too. He had invited me to stay with him and of co
urse, I accepted.

  In the weeks following the stabbing, something began to gnaw at me. At first, I assumed it was PTSD because of what happened, but even after I’d begun to feel safe it still bothered me.

  Night after night, I began waking up drenched in sweat. My heart raced and my tongue tingled as if it had been burned. As Ash was still in recovery, I went into the office daily to attend to our business.

  “Amber, honey, how are you doing?” Mrs. Gladdenfield, one of our older secretaries, inquired.

  “I’m doing fine, Mrs. Gladdenfield.”

  “You look so pale, honey. I know you and Ash have been through a lot.” She smiled at me.

  I leaned against the receptionist’s counter for a moment. I had my arms laden with files.

  “Yes, we have. But things are getting better.”

  “You should take some time off, honey. I’m sure Ash wouldn’t mind.”

  I shook my head.

  “Someone’s got to take care of business. Ash needs me to take care of these clients.” I held up the files.

  She nodded.

  “Well, just let me know if you need some extra help. I don’t have any fancy degrees, but I’ve been in the business long enough that I might be of some assistance.” She smiled.

  “Of course. You’ve been with Ash for years.”

  “And I hope to be here for many more.” She laughed.

  Going on with my day, I put Mrs. Gladdenfield’s comments out of my head. Then, in a meeting with Nancy Bloomfeld, one of our most important clients, I started feeling sick.

  As Nancy was discussing her investments, my stomach felt as though I’d swallowed glass. It churned hard nearly doubling me over. My head pounded and my tongue began to feel thick. I could hardly swallow. I leaned forward and poured myself a glass of water. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the pitcher.

  “Amber, are you okay?” Nancy looked alarmed.

  Sipping the water, I tried to force myself to swallow. The room seemed to be closing in on me.

  “I’m fine, Nancy. Just a tough morning.” I tried to smile. She was an important client and without Ash here I had to do my best.

  As Nancy continued talking, I tried to still my shaking hands. I could no longer focus on her words. Glancing at the clock, we still had another forty five minutes to go. I didn’t think I could make it.