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Whispers of Redemption Pt. 01

By: BeyondBlueLights



Hey Readers!! This is the first installment of Whispers of Redemption so feedback and voting would be much appreciated.

Enjoy :)

*

Prologue: "Adversity introduces a man to himself"

"What's this?" Bruce spat

"Ravioli" Kayla murmured.

"Well, hell. Did I say I wanted fuckin' ravioli?" He shoved the heavy plate off the table with a swift and brute force. Kayla flinched. She took an unconscious step back as her head began to pound.

"Girl you better speak when you're spoken to!" He jumped up and rushed towards her, Kayla tried to bolt but he caught her left wrist in an unforgiving fist. Bruce pulled her towards him and wrenched her hand behind her back; she cried out. He laced his other greasy hand through her long black curls just before he brought his lips only inches away from hers.

"Did I say I wanted ravioli, Kayla?" He whispered through clenched teeth. She lifted her free hand to push at his chest.

"You lift a hand to me and I'll break your wrist. I swear it. Answer the question." He warned

"No" Kayla managed to roar. His sinister smile grew slowly, while the hand in her hair loosened its death grip. But Kayla knew there was no such thing as alleviation when she was at his mercy. She closed her eyes hoping to God that he would let go of her wrist...that he wouldn't touch her; her stomach turned. No, she couldn't survive another attack. God never seemed too close, though. When he let go of her wrist she breathed out of a sigh of relief, a breath that would only get caught once more in her throat as he ruthlessly tore open her cotton button down cardigan. Kayla's eyes were as wide as saucers as she began to scream and claw at every inch of his body that she could come in contact with. But Bruce was so much bigger and so much taller. He would win. She didn't recognize her own voice-as she sobbed and wailed with wild abandon. 

"Please! No!" She pleaded over and over again. He punched her square in the jaw and she fell silent. As the side of her face began to swell her voice escaped, yet her hands still fought. She knew he had already won. He threw her down on the kitchen floor and grabbed her ankles. She caught a glimpse of what had to be a blade in his hand.

"Open your eyes, Kayla or I promise I'll carve a little token of my love on this pretty little thigh" He growled. Kayla would take every hit, every insult, every cut, but she couldn't bear to look. She felt her legs being spread painfully wide. Why Me? Her whole life revolved around that one question. This was the second time Bruce had won.

Chapter 1: Angel

November 1st 2000 Boston, Massachusetts 6:09 PM

Kayla Warner walked down the steps of Bruce's old townhouse. Her head throbbed and the diminutive cuts on her swollen lips protested the ruthlessness of the bitter winter wind. She struggled with numb fingers to wrap her woolen scarf around her bruised and sensitive neck. There was no coat to engulf her shivering body, no heavy snow boots to protect her toes from the heartless cold, no gloves to hide her bleeding knuckles, no arms to hold her. A long, flimsy, white cotton skirt flowed to her ankles, surrounding stocking covered legs; the hem of her long-sleeved shirt barely reaching the waistband of the skirt, exposing a slither of her mid-drift and promising full blown fever. Tears of despair fell from her hazel eyes onto the pavement with every reluctant step she took. Tall willow trees stood amongst the even taller lampposts. The dark reflection of their lengthy limbs dueling with the dim light that shone over the sidewalk provided a haunting shadow dance. She heard a glass bottle crash against the pavement in the faint distance and quickened her step. She didn't know where to go or how to get to that nowhere. Bruce was back from a two week convention in Kansas. 

Bruce Torch was a car salesman. He was also a forty-three year old alcoholic. Kayla had lost both parents to a fatal car crash when she was twelve. She was left in the custody of her father's best friend, Bruce. Bruce had abused her from day one. It had always been physical abuse though, a slap across the face for forgetting the dishes, a punch for ruining the dinner, a kick for dressing inappropriately, an insult for existing-that was until her eighteenth birthday. She had thought she had seen the regular hatred in his eyes when she had looked into those sickening orbs, but that night he wanted more than the satisfaction of bruising her; that night, she lost her soul. She resented how Bruce's heavy hand felt against her temple when he had too much to drink. She resented the vindictiveness his demeaning words elicited from her overbearing self-conscious. She resented the echoes of a belt lash in the bathroom and the cold water that followed. She resented the scars. She resented the rape. She was ashamed of the way she whimpered, begging for mercy. She was ashamed of her suicide attempts, ashamed of the immortality of the pain she felt everyday in every way. Pain. What a sad excuse of a word. What she'd been through, what she'd felt, was not pain, it was a boundless mock of hope. The ineptitude of hope was just as painful as the blows and insults. Just as damaging as her scars and just as weak as her will. 

A revolting whistle of appreciation pierced the emptiness of her solitude. The sound came from behind her. Whoever had made the vulgar gesture was close. Kayla didn't dare look back. She was losing her breath briskly, due to the agony of taking deep breaths in itself. Her chest hurt; hard boots that were not hers, hit pavement just as fast- crunching fresh snow beneath their rough soles. 

"Slow down, sweetness" a male voice called out in a drunken slur. A different voice laughed wickedly. Kayla's ears grew hot and her throat started to burn. She whimpered involuntarily when her legs began to grow numb, she was so tired. Her body was giving up but her mind was screaming fight. It was like being set on fire after paralysis. She didn't want to cry but her tears cascaded now, she needed to run faster. She needed to fly. There was no way she'd let them touch her, she'd rather die. Yes, that was the solution. Kayla glanced at the street to see if any cars were passing by. All she had to do was throw her self into the street just before one did, that way she'd get to lie down and the pain would stop. It would stop forever. She smiled through her tears and prayed for a car. Prayer answered. The excruciatingly loud engine of what was most likely a motor cycle or sports car ripped down the road, she couldn't tell the difference. Her hands commoved. Ten, nine, eight...she started to count down the seconds...two. The sports car screeched to a stop just before she jumped off the slightly elevated sidewalk. 

"Get in, now" A deep voice urged. Kayla didn't consider the possibility of this stranger being no better than her pursuers, she considered nothing but hope... the painless kind. Her movements were a blur as she ran to the car and jumped in. As her back hit the warm seat and the car sped miles away from her should-have-been death she broke down in unearthly sobs. The mysterious driver quickly turned on the heat and pulled off of the road. Kayla left her head in her hands because she couldn't stop crying. She didn't want this stranger to see her bruises; she didn't want to be judged. 

"You're okay now" He whispered. His voice was deep yet gentle in hesitation. Kayla lifted her gaze to the hood of the car and wiped at her eyes and nose. She was hardly aware of him reaching into the glove compartment. A warm hand grasped hers. She flinched back and her wide, startled eyes grew wary. 

"I'm not going to hurt you" the man murmured. He reached for the water bottle in the cup holder and opened it. After turning on the overhead light and pouring some of the water onto the napkin he began to wipe the blood from her knuckles. Kayla stared at the young man beside her. After he cleaned both of her hands, he reached for a dry napkin and handed it to her.

"Are you okay?" He asked. His voice was soothing. Kayla would have answered the question if she could but the truth was she couldn't. He had the most compelling green eyes she had ever seen. A color you could only find in a jewel or untouched fertile grassland. His hair was midnight black and cropped short, it lay against his forehead lazily, the snow must've gotten to it. He had high cheekbones and a defined jaw line. A gorgeous straight nose graced his unblemished olive skin tone, adding the finishing touch. He wore a pastel green dress shirt-sleeves rolled up to the elbow, exposing toned looking tan forearms. Thick veins intertwined under his smooth looking skin-she couldn't see them because of his lightly tanned skin but she could trace the shape of them with her fingertips if she had the audacity. Enthralling, sensual lips opened and closed and she gawked at them mutely. A second passed before she realized he had spoken. 

"Are you ok?" he had repeated. She nodded while closing her eyes and turned away. She wiped at her wet cheek and blew her nose. When she turned back to face him with the napkin balled up in her fist she found his gaze fixed on something. She followed it to her numb left leg and gasped when she saw blood, bright red, staining her white skirt. Her stitches. She hadn't even felt her stitches rip open! She had stitched a deep cut Bruce had caused on her inner thigh, only a few nights before. Before she knew it he was lifting up her skirt. She saw red. Kayla thought she would die. 

"Don't touch me!" She screamed

"Hey, hey, hey you're leg is bleeding. I have to take a look at it. I won't hurt you." He said softly "Miss, I won't hurt you." He reached for her skirt once more but Kayla flinched back into the door of his sports car. He sighed. 

"What is your name?" he asked. Kayla looked down at first and then slowly gazed into his eyes. She felt safe; she wasn't going to try to lie to herself. But then again she didn't know what safety was anymore and she wasn't going to try and guess at what exactly it felt like. 

"Kayla" Her voice was hoarse and tiny. She cleared her throat.

"Kayla, I'm Jeremy Alessi. Your leg is bleeding and I'm sure you've noticed. I'm no doctor but it would be best if you let me take a look at it. I won't hurt you, Kayla. I give you my word." Jeremy had a thick northern accent and it complemented his deep voice. He was young but his tone was that of a self assured man. He stared at Kayla cautiously. With agonizingly slow advancement he grasped the hem of her skirt and began to lift.

***

Jeremy had never seen a woman in such a bad state. Hell, she wasn't even a woman, just a girl. Her small body shivered violently and he truly felt pity for the first time. She was harmless. He turned on the heat. The girl had fresh-looking bruises covering the left side of her face ...he hadn't gotten the chance to have seen the right. Her lips were torn and her scarf had fallen loose exposing her long neck. It had a trail of black and blue bruises running down its length. She had russet colored skin-rich caramel-and a thick massive head of curls that were caught up in a pony tail- it flowed down between her shoulder blades. She was beautiful-he could tell by the way she closed her eyes, her lips slowly parting in relief when she had settled in his car seat, by the way her chest rose and fell frenetically, by the way her skin was radiant despite the bruises. 

***

Kayla struggled to suppress her impulsive urges to flee. Urges that had been trained for so long to sound the alarm, any alarm, at human contact. His finger tips were warm and his touch was gentle. She could feel her heart beating rapidly, fighting to burst out of her bruised chest when he pushed the skirt over her thighs and exposed the thin see-through stockings. He cursed as he stared at a bloody laceration and a heinous stitch job. Jeremy ripped the stocking and Kayla gasped, concurrently clenching her thighs together. 

Jeremy felt anger anew pulse through his body when she did that, when she clenched her thighs in barefaced fear. The new anger flowing through him was irrational, yet insuppressible. He hoped to god it was innocence and not habitual panic that caused her to do such a thing. He didn't want to do what he had to do next, she would certainly take it the wrong way but since he had exposed the wound, blood ran from her thigh onto his car seat. He stared into her hazel eyes and spoke slowly. 

"Kayla your losing a lot of blood, you've got to apply pressure to the gash"

She immediately reached into the glove compartment for napkins but there were no more.

"We need hand towel or something, there is a convenience store just up the block-" Jeremy ignored the gesture. He unbuttoned the buttons on his dress shirt exposing his black muscle-shirt. He never broke eye contact and saw the transition from calm to frenzy on her face the moment it happened. 

"Wha- what are you do- doing" Kayla stuttered, her hand already on the door.

"I'm going to use my shirt to apply pressure to it. I told you I wasn't gonna hurt you, don't be obtuse." He pealed off his shirt and balled it up. Kayla flushed in embarrassment. 

"This might sting" Jeremy covered the gash with his shirt and pressed down slightly. Kayla moaned throatily as she threw her head back unto seat and bit down mercilessly on her bottom lip. She was so cold. He cradled her cheek with his other hand- his finger tips brushing her earlobe in the process-and she was surprised at herself when she tried to move closer to the warmth.

His fingers slightly brushed across her upper lip.

"Don't bite, Kayla" he whispered intensely. His voice sounded as if she was causing him pain by doing so. Kayla released her bottom lip at the words; a surge of blood rushed to it. 

"I'm going to take care of you, get you to a hospital. You'll be alright. I promise you." 

"No, I can stitch myself back up, I did it before. I don't have insurance and Bruce will kill me if I leave with a bill" She blurted out. Jeremy's eyes narrowed. Bruce. He would remember.

"Don't worry about the bill" Jeremy clutched the steering wheel and stepped on the gas. 

November 2nd 2000 Boston, Massachusetts 9:30 am 

Kayla woke to the redundant beeping of an EKG monitor. She knew that sound anywhere. When her eye sight focused she looked at the IV needle and felt ill. She was definitely in the hospital. The room had huge windows that covered around seventy-five percent of the wall to her right. The blinds were pulled back and soft sunlight peered through the spotless glass. She stared out into the vastness of the dim sky and sighed. Jeremy. She remembered his eyes first, then his voice then his unforgettable visage. Next were his strong hands and the way they held her face or grasped her hand. She remembered the needle before the stitches and his sensuous lips on her forehead when he had had to step out of the room while she was being examined. Her Angel.

"Miss. Warner?" A soft feminine voice asked. Kayla shifted her head to peer at the door. A blonde-haired lady peeped her head into the room.

Kayla struggled to sit up.

"Oh no, darling, you lay back down." She said while walking across the spacious floor to Kayla's bedside. She smiled almost sadly at her.

"My name is Samantha George and I am a social worker from the Violence Intervention and Prevention center. Dr. Brody, your general doctor, thought it best I come in and see you." 

Kayla could feel her heart beats in her finger tips. If she was of a lighter complexion she would have turned cherry red. Violence Intervention and Prevention center? How the fu-

"Where's Jeremy?" She demanded, ending her own hysterical, mental break down. She felt tears fill her eyes. She couldn't justify her immediate reaction; she didn't understand why she felt so...ashamed. She did nothing wrong! She didn't even know why she was asking for Jeremy, she didn't even know him!

"I'm not sure if I know who exactly you speak of, Kayla. I need you to take deep breaths. I'm not here because you're in trouble, I'm here to help.

"I don't need help." Kayla snarled

"Explain the bruising, and I'll go. You'll never hear another word from me." She said gently.

"I-I fell" Kayla stuttered lamely as tears started to stream down her raw cheeks. Samantha pulled up the guest chair and took a resigned seat. She opened her bag and pulled out a miniature clip board. Kayla closed her eyes. She wanted the help, she wanted to get away from Bruce...but that would require the full fledged story and she wasn't ready to divulge any of that.

"Who do you live with?" Samantha asked sweetly

"My godfather" 

"And do you have a good relationship with your godfather?"

"No" Kayla said shakily. Samantha sighed and tucked the clipboard under her arm. She wasn't going to go through the regular procedure with this girl, because it was obviously not going to work that way.

"I'm going to ask a few compelling questions, Miss. Warner and you are, by law, allowed to abstain from answering. Although, if I were you, I would answer them. I can help you, Kayla" Samantha whispered "I can end the pain, and I can help put your abuser away for a very long time." Kayla nodded her head as she wiped at her blood-shot eyes.

"Who did this to you?" Samantha asked bluntly

"My godfather" Kayla sobbed. Samantha wished she hadn't forgotten her box of Kleenex. She held the girls hand as she fought to keep herself in check. Each call was so different and affected her in different ways. All the training about sexual assault calls taught her how to support a victim, but no amount of training could prepare her for the emotions she felt as a person.

"Was there only physical abuse, Kayla? Or was it sexual abuse as well?" That question seemed to be the girl's undoing. Samantha watched as she brought her right leg up, wrapping her arms around her shin and began to rock, all the while sobbing unintelligibly. Samantha wasn't allowed to touch patients. Although all she wanted to do was hold the girl before her, she knew she couldn't.

"Kayla?"

"I turned eighteen last week." Kayla wept "That's when he star-started touching m-me." She hiccupped. Samantha felt the urge to look away. What possessed man to commit such evils? 

"Did he ever force you to engage in intercourse with him?" Samantha whispered. It was always respectful to tone down the pace and blatancy when asking questions about sexual abuse. Intimacy was one of the most dreaded topics.

"This is between me and you, Kayla" Samantha reassured. Kayla nodded her head franticly.

"How often has he done this since you turned eighteen?" 

"Twice"

"Okay, Kayla. I've only one more question for you. This one involves answering and eventual compliance. I believe you sweetheart, but when dealing with such subjects, proof can certainly keep us from taking unwarranted action. Would you consent to a rape kit?"

"A what?" Kayla looked as if she was flustered.

"It's just an exam the doctors perform that will result in biological and physical evidence collected from your body of a sexual assault. In addition to leading police to the perpetrator, a rape kit will also augment the case in court, should it come to trial."

"I-" Kayla breathed deeply for a few moments, wrenching her quivering hands. She closed her eyes as she fought a wave of nausea. To her surprise the first things that she saw was fiery, green eyes. Jeremy.

"Can you find Jeremy for me?" She was losing her voice.

"Sure, sweetheart. You don't have to make the decision now. Are you related to Jeremy?"

"No"

"A boyfriend?"

"Just a friend"

"Are there any family members you would like me to contact?"

"I have none; Please just find Jeremy."

***

"I couldn't find Jeremy. But I did find out that your godfather is waiting downstairs. He wants to come up and see you. You don't have to see him though. I can even stay here with you if you'd like."


Whispers of Redemption Pt. 01



"No Actually, that's fine. Send him up. Thank you for all of your help, but I have decided that I don't want the examination. And I would rather you keep the previous conversation to yourself." Kayla had come to her conclusion. She didn't need every last soul in her small town of Brampton, Boston, knowing that she was the abused girl around the corner. She didn't want any doctor probing around in her just so they could turn around and tell her what she already knew. Your godfather raped you. She didn't need her name or her story in the newspaper (which it sure as hell would be) and she didn't need to give Bruce anymore of a reason to want to beat her...to death. She had it all planned out. She was going to run away and make a new life for herself. She was going to get tested as soon as she got out of this place. And she didn't care how stupid Samantha would think she was.

"Kayla, if you're thinking about running, let me tell you someth-"

"Don't pretend like you know me. Don't pretend like I'm being irrational. You don't know me and sure as hell don't know what I've been through. If I'm going to get out of this and if I'm going to end this...I'm going to do it my way."

Samantha stared at the fiery little wisp of a girl before her. There was a red tint to her deeply tanned skin and her black curly hair threatened to engulf her dainty face. Her chest rose and fell with pent up emotion and her eyes seemed puffy. Samantha shook her head. This girl reminded her of herself...so many years ago when she was in a situation too similar to this one. This girl had no way of knowing that she was most likely going to be the reason for her own damnation, but Samantha knew. She wanted her to prove her wrong though. She wanted her to find her redemption. She reached into her bag, plucked out a business card and dropped it on the bedside table.

"My address and my number" Drop by or give me a call if you need anything. I'm here to help you do it your way. Don't throw away your life in attempt to make a new one. It doesn't work that way, take it from someone who knows." With that she walked out of the room.

***

"Hi Miss. Warner, your godfather is here too see you" A nurse said perkily as she let Bruce step past the threshold. 

"Oh Kayla, darling!" he exclaimed bogusly. Kayla wanted to spit in his face. Of course Bruce wouldn't ignore her in the hospital where a bunch of witnesses could see, of course Bruce wouldn't beat her to a pulp until they got home.

"I'm fine" Kayla retorted sardonically. If he could play the game she could to. He didn't say a word. She didn't want him in here...she didn't want to ever go back home. At least, what was supposed to be home? The nurse left them alone. 

"You better pray to Abraham, Jesus, and Mary that when you get out of here I don't get my hands on you" he gritted out. Kayla searched for the nurse's button on the side of the hospital bed covertly.

"Relax Torch, you didn't put my name on the insurance remember?" Kayla retorted flippantly. 

Jeremy walked in. Kayla gasped and Bruce's usual smug visage furrowed in confusion. Where have you been? She found her self repeating in her head. It was weird, she didn't know him but he was probably the first person she had ever met that made her feel so safe. When Jeremy had caught sight of the menacing older man he narrowed his eyes cautiously before he glanced at Kayla. He rolled up his sleeves and continued to chew on his gum. When he stood nearly a foot away from Bruce he stretched out his hand in congeniality. 

"Jeremy" He said gruffly. Bruce stared at Jeremy's out stretched hand and glanced back at Kayla. Shortly after over analyzing the situation he shook Jeremy's hand sternly.

"And what are you doing here?" He voice was seeping pure contempt. Jeremy's eyes narrowed. He withdrew his hand and walked over to where Kayla lay.

"You okay?" He asked as he pulled a few over the counter pain meds out of his pocket. Tylenol, to be exact. Kayla stared into his jade eyes and found her self speechless again. "Yea, I'm okay" She croaked. 

"Here take these" He handed her a few tablets and the cup of water on the side table. Kayla sat up and ran her hand through her hair consciously before downing the water and the tablets. Bruce cleared his throat. Jeremy turned around to face him once more. "I take it your the patriarch" He said shrewdly

"Close enough" Bruce bit back. "I'd rather you keep your hands off my daughter. I don't know you and I don't trust you." 

"The only time I had my hands on your daughter was last night, sir. And at that point I was simply trying to keep her from bleeding to death." Jeremy still wore the black muscle shirt and blood stained khaki slacks from the night before. He had chosen to stay whole night for her well being but specifically because he had wanted to see if this Bruce guy would show up.

"Fair enough. Thanks for your help. I don't got shit to pay you back with, so if that's why you're lingering around, you should probably just hit the road." Jeremy clenched his jaw. 

"Right." He turned to Kayla giving her a small smile. She was one beautiful mess. He wanted to save her, as ridiculous and far-fetched as it sounded. But that was his problem; he was always getting ahead of himself. Here he was perpetually falling in a black abyss, and somehow he wanted to keep her from falling as well.

"Stay strong kiddo" He said softly as he rested his hand upon hers. She grabbed at his hand with strength he didn't think her capable of. She stared at him with a mutual longing for different circumstances. He watched her eyes moisten. Thank You she mouthed as her healing lips quivered and a lonesome tear raced down her caramel cheek. He swallowed the urge to stay. Don't worry, he mouthed as he squeezed her hand. He reached into his pocket and slipped a white piece of paper between her back and the bed. Whatever it was he didn't want Bruce to see. And just like that he was gone and Kayla was alone in the room with Bruce once more. 

Bruce's expression was murderous; he approached her bedside all the while glaring at her with pure heated hatred. She never knew what it was that she had done to deserve such hatred.

"You spreading' your legs for that bastard too?" He jabbed angrily. Kayla searched for the nurse's call button once more. She didn't trust his temper. He grabbed her left wrist purposefully bruising the already bruised flesh. She cried out and he covered her mouth with a rough palm.

"You belong to me. You better tell Mr. nice guy to stay the fuck away from you if you want him to stay alive" Bruce said dryly. 

November 3rd 2000 Boston, Massachusetts 1: 30pm

Kayla was discharged thirty minutes before the hour. She sat at the bus stop waiting for the next bus to arrive. Her hair blew around her neck and mouth to tickle her ear. The wind was stronger today. She had considered cutting her hair a few days ago when Bruce had used it to drag her across the floor of the tiny living room. But she had decided against it, she'd rather wear it in a bun than cut it. She figured her mother had always loved her hair (it was a vain attempt at making up for what she had lost-memory of her mother), she remembered very little of her mother, almost no memories at all...only one to be exact. It was the recollection of her mother washing her hair in the bath-tub. She had lost most memory of her childhood after recovering from the car crash that had killed her parents. As the only survivor she often regretted the fact that the crash didn't kill her also. It would have been a lot less painful than what she was going through right now.

Kayla's mother was a full blooded Cherokee and her father was of Scottish and Black American decent. It was an exotic mix and she couldn't remember how it came about, how they met. Bruce never spoke about her parents. She often wondered how so many people spoke of her father as if he were a hero, yet he had a best friend like Bruce Torch. Just didn't add up.

Her eyes were a grayish hazel and her tresses were thick and curly; black with rare dark brown highlights throughout. Her skin was that of her mothers- a golden brown- but here features were her father's-soft small lips, a small round nose, almond shaped eyes, high cheek bones with trademark dimples on each. Thinking of them was tormenting...because there wasn't much to think about. She yearned to know them.

She'd have to get a better job than the one she had to pay Jeremy back half-a-grand. Five-hundred dollars to her was a fortune. More than she'd ever seen in her life, but she would pay it back regardless. He'd even left her an outfit- jeans, a light gray cashmere sweater, brand-name sneakers and a red coat. She clung to the pain medication she'd found in the pocket of her sweater with unnecessary fervor. Whoever he was, he was rich and it made her grateful but sad all at the same time. There could never be a friendship between them. He was a Good Samaritan, someone who probably had everything he wanted and didn't mind stepping off his ostentatious steeple to help out a less fortunate charity case like her. It would probably be a story to tell among the other trivial matters he discussed with mutual friends. A battered teen he'd probably thought was an unfortunate soul. Someone who had asked for what she had gotten. That's the kind of response she had always educed from people. He wouldn't be any different. He wouldn't believe that she still dreamt about traveling around the world, or watching the tide crash onto the shore when there was a full moon, sit at the park and not have people staring at her newest bruise, dance deliriously on the peak of a grassy hill-where the sun shone down like fire and darkness was impossible, play in an orchestra and have people cheer her name. He wouldn't believe that she could play every instrument you handed her. That from ages five to twelve she was a ballerina. No, that life was over and as tangible as the wind. All that awaited her was Bruce's heavy hand. No one would know the truth, ever. Life was only beautiful for those who were ignorant of its faults.

Chapter Two: Contemplation

November 3rd 2000 Boston, Massachusetts 2:00pm

"Where were you Gianni?" Paul, Jeremy's father asked. He continued to scribble notes on his legal pad with his glasses resting low on the bridge of his nose.

"Your mother was worried sick, you know that?" Paul removed his glasses and braced his hands upon his silver marbled desk. Jeremy's mother would always be worried sick. Her husband was the most successful mob boss in Massachusetts; all three of her daughters had married questionable men in different states and her only son was already fully equipped to follow his father's footsteps. Not that he would

"I was out with Rocco" Jeremy lied. His father pursed his lips and waved his index finger at Ray and Leo to leave the room. 

"Sit down" he ordered. Jeremy sat. His father stared at him with a cold expression.

"I called Rocco and he wasn't with you. He was at the Bianchi party...where you were supposed to be" Paul said dryly. "Why do you insist on lying to me Gianni?" Paul inquired. Jeremy hated the use of his first name. He stared his father in the eye; it was disrespectful to look down when Paul spoke to him. But his respect for his father was mechanical habit, not choice. He could tell him that he had left the party to escape Angela...and in doing so ran into...well, ran into Kayla, but with that an explanation would be needed. Jeremy didn't have or need to make time for an explanation. 

He sighed inwardly at the thought of her name. Yes, he was officially a psycho. He liked to watch her breathe, liked the sight of her undulating chest when she did. He liked the little sounds she made in her sleep, and how innocent her eyes looked when she would wake up from a doze, unaware of where she was. He liked that, in her sleep, she was no longer the scared, ruined girl. She held onto his hand tightly. When she did that, he could see the fighter in her...he could see the reason why she still lived. 

"You think dishonesty is gonna help you run all of this when I'm gone?" Paul taunted.

"I needed a break" Jeremy replied placidly. His mind wandered to Bruce Torch. She'd lived with them from age twelve to current, eighteen. He found it hard to sleep when he remembered the way Bruce looked, tall and baleful... (At least, he would appear baleful to Kayla). He had a long scar running from his temple to the crevice of his nose and a disdainful beer-belly. All Jeremy could picture was him beating the defenseless girl that had sat in his car last night. What was even worst was the thought of him forcing himself between her legs. It took every last cell of discipline in Jeremy's body not to get Rocco and Frankie and end Bruce Torch this morning after he had left the hospital and had Sam clean the blood from his car seat.

"From what? Or was it the fact that Angela was there that made you disappear?" Paul drawled sarcastically, shaking Jeremy from his daydreams. Jeremy clung to the sparse line of restraint left in his conscious to keep from cursing; he was always respectful to his father. It was just hard being the only son of the greatest Italian mob boss in Massachusetts sometimes. He wanted things from you that you just couldn't give...like your soul and your morality. 

From the moment he turned eighteen he had been handling the "expenses" of his father's business...he had become the head of this game they played. People no longer spoke of Paul Alessi, they spoke of Jeremy Alessi. But Jeremy refused to be involved in the illegal externalities of it all...that was mostly the result of his mother. She had made it clear that wasn't the type of life she wanted for him. He had a keen sense when it came to numbers and investments...it was what he was born to do. In high school, he had skipped ninth and tenth grade because of his academic dexterity. Gianni Jeremy Alessi wasn't exactly normal. He was fifteen in eleventh grade, amongst seventeen year olds. He played football, lacrosse, and soccer. Yea, he was a jock. His grades never slipped because of his sheer innate intellect. He began taking evening college classes in eleventh and by the time he graduated high school at the age of seventeen he had already finished two and a half years of college. 

He attended Stanford University for the remainder of his two years and earned his Bachelors degree at nineteen. He attended Princeton's cohesive Masters and Doctorate two year degree program in business management, killing two birds with one stone. At twenty-two he was more successful than the average thirty-five year old but to Jeremy it was luck. He was rich and knew exactly how to keep making that kind of money; his name was worth more than his life, his mother was the most kind-hearted, loving woman he'd ever known, and God had decided to render him competent of using just a little bit more of his brain than the Average Joe. He owned a night club off of Dixie Street and the Grand Opening of his new restaurant, Sarah's Winters, was only three days away. He was content with his life. 

"She's a good girl, Gianni." Paul said

"Don't start Pa" Jeremy retorted. Angela Pelosi was no good girl. She was a gold digging, hot headed, spoiled brat. He hated the way she held her head up so high, or the way she flicked her long auburn mane off of her shoulder with the back of her hand. Every word that left her overrated lips was condescending. She had a lot of false pride floating amongst the hot air in her dense head. So what, she had a killer body...legs that could make a man beg...on all fours...in his underwear. So what, she was the most beautiful woman at all of the Alessi dinner parties. So what. She wasn't his type, she never was. They had grown up together, always fighting. If anyone knew her best, it was Jeremy. Angela Pelosi was a cold-hearted dark angel and ominous in every way.

"Gianni don't be a fool, you'll break her heart if you keep acting like this. She will be your wi-"

"I'm not marrying Angela. I don't even like her much less love her." Paul's face hardened and he leaned in closer to his son.

"This isn't debatable. You will marry her before this year ends and that's the end of discussion. Angela will be a good wife and a good mother to your children; submissive." Jeremy scoffed in disgust. "Gianni, I've already spoken to her family. We are discussing the-"

"Che Cosa (what)?!" Jeremy bellowed. 

"Si. You know what to do, so do it soon. You don't have the freedom to look for a bride, Gianni, not with the kind of profession and family legacy you have, unless you want to be signing prenuptial documents before every doomed marriage. So I'm giving you one. You can't go wrong, don't fuck this up. Capisce?" Paul stared at his son for a few moments and slipped his reading glasses back on. 

"Forse (maybe)" He muttered through a clenched jaw. More like "never", but Jeremy didn't have time to argue. Paul stared him in the eye, displaying an intimidating warning. Jeremy sighed and looked out through the large window overlooking most of Dalton Heights, the richest Suburbia in Boston. His father had several houses and condos but spent most of his time in this three-story mansion. Jeremy, himself, owned a two-story house in Catalina, thirty minutes away from Dalton Heights. He refused to waste his money on anything more than what he would use.

"You know anything about Bruce Torch?" Jeremy murmured to his father as he studied the way the trees blew to the west and then the east...effortlessly dancing. Paul frowned at his son. He seemed unnerved. Attention was always Paul's when he was talking to his son but today Jeremy had this distant look in his eyes and every now and then he'd frown or even smile. Paul folded his arms across his chest. He knew Bruce Torch, but what was it to Jeremy?

"You in trouble, Gianni?" Paul asked

"No. Do you know him?" Jeremy insisted

"Yea, he's a car salesman. I attempted some business with him a couple years back." Paul replied

"What kind of business?"

"He wanted a loan"

"You gave it to him?"

"Hell no." Jeremy glanced at his father and then back out the window.

"He hurt a friend of mine" Jeremy admitted

"Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Who did he hurt?" 

"You don't know her." 

"Her. This is about a girl, Gianni? What, he dip his hand in the pot of gold before you got the chance?" Paul chuckled. Jeremy fiery gaze flashed towards his father. Green fire. He had a flash-point temper and it was already seeping from every pore on his face. Paul sobered. 

"Are we talking rape?" Paul asked 

"Possibly. Let's just say I couldn't recognize her face when I saw her." Jeremy said angrily. Paul knew his son. Jeremy hated murder, he hated unnecessary death. In fact, Jeremy had never taken a life. What had possessed him to have such blood-lust in his eyes? Of course, only a woman.

"What. You want him dead, Gianni?" Paul asked unbelievingly 

Paul wondered who this girl was and what Jeremy's definition of "friend" was when it came to their relationship. Jeremy was the voice-of-reason incarnate, always the peacemaker. So when his jaw set, when his eyes were unwavering and his voice deceivingly placid, they all knew his decision was final...there would be no voice of reason. 

"Gianni," Paul sighed "You can't have her, whoever she is. Stay away from what you think is love. It's infatuation. You already have a wife."

His father definitely did not know what love was. Jeremy had watched his mother slave for Paul's attention his whole life...whole damn life. If there was anyone who would die for love from the paramount of her being, it was his mother. But in any case this had nothing to do with love. It was nothing like that, he barely knew the girl. He just wanted revenge. He just wanted to give her peace. But her eyes; they were most beautiful. And her lips regardless of their state were captivating. Her voice was angelic and hauntingly magnetic. Her mere face was enticingly peregrine. She was different from him in every way but in every better way. He wanted to see her. 




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 01



"It's nothing like that." 

"I understand. Just don't let the bud blossom...because you won't be there to water it. Capisce?" Those words echoed through Jeremy's head. You won't be there to water it.

"I'm clockin' him." Jeremy admitted. By Clocking someone he meant he was assigning one of his guys to watch every movement Bruce made.

"For what purpose?" 

"I want to know when he's acting up" Jeremy retorted. Paul smiled slowly. There was no way Sarah would win this fight. The mob was in this boy's blood. He looked like a force to be reckoned with...his features, his voice, the way he carried himself. In enough time he would have to live up to the visage...he would have to become that force.

"And what will you do if he acts up?" Paul chuckled.

"That's not something you have to worry about Pa." Jeremy admitted truthfully.

3:20 pm

Kayla stepped off the local bus onto Pelham Park, two blocks away from home. She stood there for a while looking at her healing knuckles. Rain poured down in unforgiving pellets. Her hair immediately fell out of the bun she had wrapped it in and clung to the sides of her face, her neck, and her coat-covered chest; drenched. She was thankful for the red coat. She watched as people jogged past her, running for cover. Her steps were slow and calculating, wet or not, she wasn't ready to go back. Maybe if she waited long enough Bruce would whimsically leave for the road again like he sometimes did. She would be alright. No she wouldn't. She took slow steps towards hell. Then she stopped abruptly, remembering the little white piece of paper Jeremy had slipped beneath her. She reached into her coat pocket with urgency. When her fingers touched the thin paper she unfolded it:

Don't hesitate to call, Kayla. 

__JA

His number rested beneath the simple but compelling message. Her heart felt weak. Her lips began to curve upward into a wide grin; she was smiling like a fool. But she didn't care who saw. She wanted to laugh. She had a friend. Jeremy Alessi was a friend. 

November 6th 2000 Sarah's Winters 7:00 pm

Jeremy leaned against the banister of the staircase, looking down at the swarm of well-dressed businessmen, celebrities and entrepreneurs. He had to admit his new restaurant, Sarah's Winters, was a hit. He was fond of the interior designing. The walls were a dark glowing navy blue and the chandeliers were striking; the way they draped down appearing as if they were falling. The lighting was dim, providing a cozy atmosphere...private. 

"My God, you've grown" A deep raspy voice stated. Jeremy turned to see Raymond Amoretti a few steps behind him. Jeremy smiled at the old man, genuinely happy to see him. He walked up a few steps to greet him. When he offered his hand the old man pulled him into a tight embrace. Raymond was short and stocky. Jeremy hugged the man back. After a few moments he patted Raymond's back sentimentally and stepped down one step.

"It's really good to see you Raymond. Why didn't you tell me you were coming?" Jeremy asked genially.

"I wanted to surprise you and Paul" he replied through a sly smile.

"I'm surprised to see you've lasted so long without joining the administration." He said jarringly. The upper-level power structure of an organized crime family, composed of the boss, under boss, and consigliore was referred to as the administration. It was just a fancy way of referring to the Alessi family and a bunch of Paul's closest friends. Jeremy smiled and took another sip of his wine.

"Yea, me too." Jeremy sighed

"But seriously Gianni, you've taken the Omerta. You have nothing to gain from not considering yourself part of the administration." Raymond went on in an utterly low voice. When Jeremy made no move to respond, Raymond changed the subject.

"I heard their trying to make a marriage out of you guys and the Pelosi's." 

"Yeah" Jeremy said solemnly

"If you ask me it's a good idea. Alessi's and Pelosi's have been going at each other's necks for too long. A marriage would definitely solve a lot of problems."

"Nobody's asking you Raymond" Jeremy smiled through the snide remark. Raymond chuckled at the jab.

"I can understand why you're reluctant. She might be beautiful but she has had quite a run across town if you know what I'm saying." Jeremy grunted his acknowledgment of the statement. Raymond was starting to be a pain.

"Where's capo di tutti capi (Boss of the bosses)?" Raymond murmured to himself. He was looking for Paul. There were exactly three mob families in Boston, the Alessi's, the Pelosi's, and the Moretti's. Paul was considered the Boss of the bosses...the head of the commission. 

"Right over there with my mother" Jeremy pointed a ways out to his right.

"Good ears, huh?" Raymond remarked

"Guess so. It was nice seeing you Raymond." Jeremy replied

"You're a good man, Gianni." Raymond said soberly.

"Thank you, Raymond" Jeremy said. Raymond pulled a cigar out of his pocket and stuck it between his teeth. 

"You got a lighter?" He asked, with the cigar still perched between his teeth

"I don't smoke." Jeremy replied. Raymond chuckled and headed down the stairs murmuring "good man" once more. As he reached the last step he turned around and smiled at Jeremy, cigar and all.

"By the way, this is a gorgeous restaurant you've got here." He winked and walked away. Jeremy walked down the restaurant steps to make his public toast and greet his guests. As he approached the miniature stage he lifted his hand towards the jazz band and the music faded away. He got up on the stage and reached for the mike smoothly. Jeremy was eloquent and suave and he knew it. He didn't have to use this knowledge as a tool either. Women actually fought each other to get near him, to talk to him, to lie in his bed...underneath him. They swooned over the power that radiated off of his athletic frame and the sensuality of his natural virility. His smile was feral yet puerile and handsome, he was finesse. 

"Good evening everyone" He said cheerily. "I'd like to thank you all for coming out on such a wonderful winter evening to keep me company" several people chuckled. "I know you'd all rather be somewhere else so I'm grateful that you decided to show up anyway" He smiled "For those who didn't see the large, black, cursive words outside, this is Sarah's Winters. I named it Sarah's Winters because we actually make the best pasta in Boston. I grew up on this pasta and I...I remember my mother, Sarah- everyone say hello to Sarah" the small spotlight fell on his mother and she blushed furiously, making a shooing gesture at Jeremy with her silk-gloved hands as the crowd greeted her nearly in unison and laughed. She wore a light pink Versace gown that hugged her beautiful womanly curves. She had four children, yet her body was nearly immaculately young looking. She had baby blue eyes-quite rare, and her black hair was pulled into a tight bun at the top of her head. Despite her looks she had a humbled soul and an altruistic approach to everything. Jeremy loved her, unconditionally. 

"I remember" Jeremy started again "she would only make this pasta in the winter... according to her it was supposed to warm us up." He chuckled. A beautiful sound that rarely ever left his lips "We would beg her all year round' to make it, but she never made it until November came and she would make this dish once a week until February ended. She never named the dish so we used to just call it winters. Long story short, I love my mother, so much" the crowed awwww-ed. "And I certainly love when she cooks. So I decided to dedicate this restaurant to the most amazing and loving person I know, Sarah." The crowed began a deafening applause and Jeremy lifted his hand slightly for silence. "Thank you all so very much for coming out, it means the world to me." He smiled a blinding smile and lifted his glass of champagne in the air; the crowd followed. He walked down the stage and into the crowd to greet his eager guests. 

When Jeremy had gotten through the thick crowds of people wanting to congratulate him and take it upon themselves to ask about his personal life, he found his mother. 

"Ma" he called

"Oh Jeremy" She said softly and stood on her tiptoes as she wrapped her arms around his neck, burying her face in his gray Armani suit jacket. "Ti amo. Jeremy, Ti amo" 

"I love you too, ma" he replied softy. She let go of him slowly and placed her hand against his cheek gently. 

"Have you seen Angela, Gianni?" She asked. She was calling him Gianni, which meant she was up to something.

"Ma" He groaned haggardly

"What?" She asked innocently "She looks beautiful. She's wearing that dress you bought her a few months back." Sarah smiled mischievously. 

"You mean the one you made me buy her when we visited Paris." He asked insensitively and sipped his champagne once more. She slapped his chest playfully.

"Behave" She warned. He smiled down at his mother. She was much shorter than him at five feet and three inches. He stood eleven inches taller than her at six feet and two inches. The world could be crashing down amongst them she would always be smiling, she would always comfort. She had an aura that surrounded her that he couldn't put a name to, even after twenty-four years. She was all he'd ever known, she taught him how to love, she taught him how to be strong, and she taught him what it was to be a man. All at once Jeremy wanted to rip his fathers face off. How could he not love this woman, how could he hurt her so much? He knew in a sense he, himself, was breaking her already broken heart. She used to bathe him in praise about how smart he was; she used to beg him to go into business or real-estate...the right way. But somehow his father had gotten the best of him; somehow the sight of a cop would now send him on sensory alert. He couldn't walk a full two feet without looking behind his back...he couldn't sleep. And yet he wasn't even apart of the administration; the true mafia. It was just this sickening feeling of premonition. That handling legit expenses would somehow turn into icing guys like it meant nothing

"Talk to her, Jeremy" Sarah pleaded, looking into his eyes. She knew he would do it if she asked. 

"Where is she?" he asked, with a resigned tone. Sarah beamed and kissed his cheek. 

"The balcony on the second floor" she said merrily. Jeremy's eyes narrowed

"Ma, I hope you didn't set this up" He said tentatively.

"Of course not!" She guffawed. Yeah, she had definitely set this up. Jeremy rolled his eyes as she pushed him off in the direction of the staircase. When Jeremy reached the outdoor balcony, Angela was leaning over the railing; elbows perched on it as her hip angled seductively, making her legs look even longer than they were. Her heels were high and thin and when he made an even more meticulous appraisal he recognized them, he had bought them with the dress. She wore a strapless, mini, Christian Lacroix red evening dress and a white cardigan-it had cost him over two grand- pocket change for Jeremy but expensive all the same. The shoes well, they were double that.

"You look beautiful, Angela" He said politely as he stood beside her and sipped on his champagne. She turned to him, smiling brightly. She was beautiful...he couldn't deny that. Not like Kayla, though. Where had that come from? Jeremy nearly frowned at his slip. Forget about her. She wouldn't have a chance in his kind of life style.

"I love this song" she whispered to him. Jeremy hadn't even realized music was playing. But as he was rendered cognizant of it, he recognized the old tune.

"The Gypsy by The Ink Spots" Jeremy said

"Isn't it beautiful, Jeremy?" She smiled, lightly humming the archaic tune. Jeremy loved the song, he truly did. He highly doubted she loved it, though. Sarah had probably asked Charles, the balcony DJ, to play the song and Angela had probably spent all week memorizing the tune. Yes, they were that adamant. He knew what she wanted, she wanted him to ask her to dance...and maybe for just one night he'd make her happy for the heck of it. Besides, it was a sin to let a good song go to waste.

"Balliamo?" He asked. She grinned with her sparkling white teeth and nodded enthusiastically. He held out his hand and she took it softly. He led her away from the railing and into the middle of the balcony and as he wrapped his arms around her waist she slunk her long arms around his neck and nuzzled her face into the warmth of his neck. Jeremy looked out at the brightly lit city. The full moon shone vibrantly but you couldn't really grasp its beauty because of all the city lights and obnoxious horn blares. He sighed and she held him tighter to her body. She kissed his neck so softly that he wasn't sure if she really had. Seconds later she licked the same exact spot and he tensed, that was not his imagination. 

"Angela" he warned

"Stavo sognando di voi" (I dream about you) She moaned. Her arm left his neck and she lightly traced his lips. Jeremy shuddered. It was not that he was attracted to Angela, because he wasn't. Her wanton advances were repulsive. Alright, maybe he was attracted, but it was strictly physical and ironically he was aroused and repulsed at the same time. That shudder was involuntary and the increasing blood flow to his groin was instinctual. He hadn't been with a woman in so long; he was too busy to pay attention to the seductive glances sent his way and the soft whispers in his ear at his parties, and in his night club. 

"Why don't you want me" she whined, looking up into his eyes. 

"Angela" he sighed. She kissed him roughly, licking his lips...begging for entrance. Jeremy groaned, eventually kissing her back. She whimpered desperately when he succumbed, delving into the scorching heat of his mouth. Their tongues intertwined in a heated passion and Angela began lifting her dress. Jeremy's conscious was screaming negations at his dumb actions. He could fuck any girl he wanted any time, he could call up one of his regulars like Gracie or Jaclyn; no one would say shit about it, and the women never complained. But if he fucked Angela, he would have to marry her or pursue some kind of relationship for the time being. She was a close family friend and even closer to his mother; it would be an insult to ignore her after he had sex with her. But damn him, if he didn't have the worst hard-on. Her hand ran down his chest and came to rest at his cock. Her eyes widened when the full length of it twitched against her hand. She gently began stroking him. He groaned hungrily, rapidly losing control.

"You feel so good" she whispered, kissing and sucking at his neck. Her tongue left a hot fire trail against his heated skin.

"Angela" Jeremy gasped when she took his hand and placed it under her dress at the apex of her legs. She groaned thickly at the contact and moved her hips against his hand wantonly. 

"We have to stop" he said hoarsely, pulling away from her. Both of their breathing was ragged and Jeremy ran his hand through his thick hair in chagrin. What the fuck was wrong with him! Shit. She would never let him live this down. She was smiling at him with the most admiration and lust in her eyes. 

"You want me don't you, Gianni Jeremy Alessi." She licked her lips seductively as her hand snaked up her body with agonizing slowness to cup her full breast.

"Oh" She moaned. Jeremy turned away, running his hand over his suit and through his hair once more. This had to end.

"Jeremy" she droned. He felt her hand at his shoulder and cringed away.

"Don't" He roared "touch me" he finished calmly. Her eyes were cold when he turned back around to face her, fully in control again. He wasn't expecting what came next. Her hand went flying towards his cheek, smacking him soundly. The sound resonated in the air. 

"Fuck you. You can't just start shit and then act like it never happened, Gianni!" she quarreled heatedly. This girl was delusional. Jeremy glared at her in shock as his temper started to win over. She had the impudence to try to slap him again. He caught her hand in a strong grip and pulled her close to him. He leaned in and whispered in her ear.

"Don't you dare disrespect me, Angela. You know fucking better than that. I don't hit women, but trust me; there are other ways to handle such situations." Angela's body quivered with fear. His voice was so bitter and piercing. His grip was firm and his stance was that of a man that was used to being in control, used to being listened to. He shoved her hand away from where he held it midair-inches away from his face- and walked away.

"Hey, Jeremy! Come meet my lovely daughter" she heard a man say in the distance. She didn't get to hear Jeremy's muffled response. Angela stood there in the chilly Boston air, feeling entirely deserted. She wanted Jeremy with an utter desperation. He was the only way to have a life worth living; with the money, the respect...her family's worth was slowly disintegrating. Poor Sarah thought Angela was actually in love. Angela didn't know the meaning of the phrase.

November 7th 2000 Sacred Haven 3:00 pm

"Sir I can cook, I can clean, and I can take orders. I've been a waitress at the local diner on Cross Roads Avenue for nearly three years. I'm eighteen" Kayla pressed. 

"What's the name of the diner?" Mr. Linden, the manager at Sacred Haven sighed, writing down Kayla's contact information. 

"Ricky's Diner" Kayla replied. Mr. Linden raised his eyes to meet Kayla's. He didn't look in her eyes for more than a few seconds before he studied the bruising on her left jaw. Most of Kayla's bruises were healing in a timely fashion except for the one on her left jaw. It was deeply battered. The manager cleared his throat and removed his glasses. He pinched the skin between his eyes and leaned back in his chair.

"Ms. Warner, our waiters have to keep...keep up their appearance. We have some high scale customers coming in here. Businessmen and A-listers. You just simply can't-"

"- my bruises will heal, sir" Kayla said defensively. 

"How long do you think that will take?" He said pessimistically 

"One week, tops. Sir, I have make-up" Kayla tried to hide the anxiety in her voice. The manager looked at her unbelievingly. 

"Does this happen regularly, Ms. Warner?"

"You won't ever see another bruise on my face, sir" Kayla promised. If he only knew how true that statement was. Currently she was staying in a cheap motel thirty minutes from what had been a living hell for so long...she had no doubt that Bruce would find her, though. Mr. Linden smiled uncomfortably and shook Kayla's hand. 

"Come in tomorrow evening" he said. Kayla smiled widely. 

"Thank you so much, sir" She said gratefully 

"Call me, Mr. Linden" He nodded 

"Mr. Linden" Kayla corrected herself before walking out.

November 8th Sacred Haven 7:00 pm

"And get this, Jeremy" Rocco said hotly "she wakes me up three am in the morning too ask if she looks fat. I didn't get angry, I didn't curse, cause' you know she doesn't like it when I curse...I even did the breathing thing that Doris taught me. After I calm my nerves I turn to her and say 'no sweetheart, of course not'. Out of nowhere she starts crying and screaming 'you're lying to me Rocco. You didn't even look at me!' I mean Jesus Christ, she's three months pregnant." Rocco rubbed his temple with two fingers as Jeremy felt a smile tug at the corner of his lips.

"Who told you to marry her, Rocco?" Jeremy was thoroughly amused.

"You did," Rocco said matter-of-factly 

"That's right. I knew I could get back at you for stealing my girl in the fifth grade." He finished in a glib tone. Rocco burst out into deep-voiced laughter and Jeremy followed. Rocco and Jeremy had been best friends since they were toddlers. They did absolutely everything together. Rocco's father had been Paul's close friend, but had died three years earlier. Rocco had met Rita, his wife, at a dinner party and the two had hit it off instantaneously. Wherever one was, you were sure to see the other close behind. They were inseparable in every sense of the word. After at least three years Jeremy had pulled Rocco aside, into his office. Rocco stood in front of him with a curios look in his eyes when Jeremy planted both feet on the ground, placed both hands in his pocket and slightly leaned closer to Rocco.




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 02



 This is the second installment (Pt.02 of Whispers of Redemption) Remember to vote and give Feedback, it is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy!

Chapter 3: An Unexpected Rapport

Chapter Themes: Thomas Newman-"Any Other Name"& Coldplay-"I'll see you soon" 

(The Entire chapter should be read with the Thomas Newman piece-keep it on replay -...it helps visualize and is actually quite soothing. There is a particular scene that should be read with the Coldplay song-it's mentioned in the story, so you'll know when) Of course this is optional but it can't hurt to go for it. 

P.S All videos are on you tube. The first selection is usually the correct video. 

November 11th  2000

Cross Roads Motel

10:00 pm

Kayla sat, tiredly perched on the foot of her motel room bed. She slowly bobbed up and down enjoying the company of the noise the old springs made as they compressed together only to push apart once more. She munched on a granola bar, laughing every now and then at the ludicrous dialogue that constituted a fifteen time Emmy Award winning series: I Love Lucy. Despite the archaic and blurry TV set she was thankful for the amenity. 

'Here, you missed something on this one.' Ethel stated as she handed a soiled plate to Lucy, who was in the midst of washing the dishes. 

'That's the design.' Lucy replied hilariously 

'It is?' Ethel asked gullably 

'Sure, can't you see. Flowers against a background of (scratches plate with nail) gravy.' Lucy proclaimed in her usual comical grace. 

Kayla burst into a fit a giggles only to cover her mouth, quickly surpressing the sound of her laughter. A saddened feeling engulfed her when she felt the back of her hand at her lips. Bruce wasn't around to tell her to shut up, or punish her for attemting to be normal, yet her movements, her demeanor, even the things she said, would never clue anyone in on his absence. It was as if he was still there sitting next to her, daring her to laugh, or enjoy the simplicity of what she was currently doing. Suddenly her stomach turned and she didn't feel so hungry anymore, she pulled the light aluminum wrapper up over the rest of the granola bar and rested it on the dusty, miniture wall unit. She refused to turn off the the television because that would mean silence and silence meant lonliness. 

Instead, she shrugged out of her work uniform and headed in the shower. After washing her hair with the nonscented shampoo the motel provided, she rested her small hands on the cold tile before her, allowing the warm water to rush down her entire body and pool at her feet before slowly being sucked down the clogged drain. Kayla willed herself to stay calm, he wasn't going to come rushing in the bathroom unannounced as he usually did. After her shower she retrieved her thin sweat pants, underwear, and old t-shirt from the heater and donned them on. 

When she finally got into bed she reached for the healing cream Jessica had given her yesterday after discovering one of her bruises and applied it to the places on her face, neck, arms, and legs that needed it the most. After tucking herself under the rough and tacky comforter she stared at the vapidly white ceiling. I Love Lucy still sounded throughout the room and she continued to take deep steadying breaths. She didn't want to close her eyes because everytime she did, a reoccuring memory would embed itself on the back of her eyelids and force her to remember. The most prevalent reoccuring memory was the first time Bruce had raped her. The memory would make her nautious before it would make her cry, but regardless of the order, it always made her depressed; depressed to the point of conscious withdrawl from everything. Sometimes she felt invisible, other times she felt like the whole world knew her predicament, yet both feelings still left her the same: numb. 

Subconciously her fingers reached above her head and underneath the pillow her head rested on, searching for the butcher's knife she stole from the restaurant kitchen. If Bruce ever showed up she was going to kill him. She was going to cut him and watch him while he bled. Despite the shame and the sadness, despite the depression and uselessness, anger never really dissapated. She could feel her optimism and normality slipping each and every time she let that man infiltrate hatred into her being. She found herself growing even more angry by the day and this anger was not healthy...it was the kind of anger that burned a heart, buried a mind, and deteriorated a soul. But niether soul, heart, nor mind mattered when you couldn't feel them, right? She wiped at the tears she hadn't felt fall from her eyes and supressed the urge to scream. She hated her continuos tears...they were the most demeaning. Kayla clasped her hands together and rested them on her tummy, waiting for sleep; her mind drifted to the little napkin and the one-thousand dollar bill that rested on the bedside table...Jeremy's notes. She couldn't even count how many times she had stopped herself from calling.

*** 

Kayla didn't know why she did what she did and even as the phone rang she found herself wishing she could just hang up. Thirty minutes into her glorious insomnia she had grabbed his napkin and dialed the numbers that rested on the bottom of the slip of paper, as she did so her fingers shook and her body grew warm at the thought of hearing his voice. For some reason a Thomas Newman piece floated- through her mind and she felt herself begin to calm remembering the way the violens and piano sounded and how it would feel if she could touch any of them just one more time. She needed someone to talk to, if not only for a few moments. She needed to know she wasn't alone...wasn't invisible. The phone rang once more only to be abruptly cut off by a deep and beautiful voice that elicited a sense of nostalgia she didn't think herself capable of.

"Alessi" He said abruptly.

"Jeremy?" She said axiously, biting her lip as she realized she had no idea what to say. The other line remained silent for what seemed like forever.

"How are you, Kayla?" He said softly. She closed her eyes briefly for the first time in a while and all she could picture was his face...there were no reoccuring memories to haunt her. She smiled childishly to herself and spoke.

"I'm okay, how are you?" She asked

"I'm well. Are the stitches holding up?" He sounded truly concerned and she decided to beat down the doubt within her conscious.

"Yeah, they are. I wanted to thank you...I wanted to thank you for everything." Kayla began "and I want to apologize for the way I acted earlier...I know you must think-"

"Don't apologize when you weren't in the wrong to begin with, Kayla" he replied firmly. Kayla didn't know how to respond, but she realized that each time she heard his voice she felt safer, so she would just have to keep him talking. 

"I-I'm working on paying you back." She said whilst scolding herself for the lame statement. 

"It wasn't a loan, it was a gift." He said simply. Selfconsciousness started to kick in and she wondered if she was bothering him. She closed her eyes one more time reveling in the absence of any bad memories. 

"Guess I'll uh...I'll go now" She stuttered her eyes still closed, she layed back praying she would fall asleep before he hung up, because if she didn't she never would.

"Where are you?" He asked, the hesitancy in his own voice quite apparent. Her eyes flew open and she did not think before answering.

"The Cross Roads Motel, I didn't think it was safe to go back." 

"Good. Does he know where you are?"

Kayla pondered on her answer.

"I doubt it will take long for him to find out." She replied, feeling fear seep into her body as the truth of that statement rang aloud. 

"Do you want me to come get you?" Jeremy asked. Kayla was caught off guard by the question, she frowned, slowly sitting up and staring at her hand as her breathing sped up like the fast flow of a rushing river in a hurry to meet the ocean.

"What?" was all she could get out

"Would you like me to come get you? You're obviously not safe." He restated.

"Wha-well-I...that's not why I called; I just can't sleep."She murmered shamefully.

"Close your eyes" he whispered. She complied, her heart tightly constricted by an invisible tendril of trust, his soothing voice still filtering through the speaker and his aura still as warm as ever.

"Okay" She sighed.

"I won't leave you until you fall asleep." He promised. She shuddered involuntarily at the sound of his voice-it was so magnetic to her. Her smile never faded as she kept her eyes sealed. 

"How will you know?" She questioned apprehensively. Kayla thought she heard him chuckle softly.

"Just keep your eyes closed, Kayla" He replied gently.

"Goodnight, Jeremy" she whispered

"Goodnight, Kayla" 

November 12th  2000            

Cross Roads Motel

8: 00 am

Her face was warm, really warm...flushed by heat, not the kind of heat caused by a locked up room or an overworked kitchen but the kind of heat caused by the very sun that lit up the sky. Kayla opened her eyes to the bright sun rays that shone through the thin curtains and unto her face. It was ironic how brightly the sun could shine yet the air still remained wickedly cold. She rolled over only to come in contact with a hard object. She pulled it from under her rib cage. The land phone. At first she stared at the phone in perplexity, but in no longer than a second she was smiling at the tiny seemingly meaningless object. She put it to her ears to hear a steady dial tone; the sound didn't bother her though, because for some inexplicable reason she knew he hadn't hung up until he knew she was sleeping. She hung up the phone, drew up her legs and folded them under her so that her rear-end rested on her heels. She hung her head low, allowing her tresses to fall amongst her face and shoulders. She heard his voice first and then she saw his eyes, she closed her eyes and felt his hands. 

She ran her hands through her hair and over her face before getting out of bed and heading to the bathroom to brush her teeth. Kayla was on her way out of the bathroom when she heard a loud knock at her door. She stopped mid-stride-paralyzed. Her ears grew hot and she directed her gaze at her pillow, knowing full well what lay underneath it. Her hands commoved and her legs felt heavy as she crept toward her bed. Just before she reached for the butcher knife there was another loud knock that cause her to jump. Kayla whimpered, quickly reaching for the knife and wishing that the door had a peephole. The window was too far way from the door for any good to come of her looking through it. She tightened her grip around the massive knife and walked to the door. She placed her hand on the knob after unlocking it slowly and turned. 

Kayla swung the door open, her arm raised with the knife clasped firmly in her fist. Her eyes were narrowed and her stance as strong as she could make it. But instead of Bruce's ugly black eyes she saw green ones, and instead of a grimace she saw a smirk, instead of the man she despised she saw a man she could call a friend. A small cry of relief left her lips and she dropped the knife that suddenly felt too heavy. She took several clumsy steps back as Jeremy strode into her room and eyed her cautiously.

"I didn't mean to scare you" He said in an amused tone. His arm was slightly outstretched in a gesture to reassure her. He set down a cup of what looked like coffee on the TV set and a bulging white paper bag. He then lifted the knife and placed it behind the small wall unit.

"You won't need that." He smirked.

"How did you know what room I was in?" She shifted from foot to foot completely aware of the rags she was dressed in...not that she had anything better to wear. He closed the lengthy gap between them gently capturing her jaw in his hand, and slowly turning her head from side to side as his gaze grew more intense.

"I asked the manager" he replied easily. His scent made her feel dizzy; it was pleasantly masculine...only a lingering hint of cologne to add the finishing touch. He wore dark jeans and a black Ralph Lauren sweater over a white button down collared linen shirt. His hair was a mass of windblown black waves and his skin blemish-free and glowing. She was overwhelmed and immediately dropped her head out of his hand.

"I brought you something to eat; I don't know what you like so I got the regular breakfast sandwich with an apple muffin and some peppermint tea. Sounds good?" He shuffled in the paper bag, pulling out the foods as he recalled them. She tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear and reached for the tea. The hot liquid warmed her throat and her chest, she greedily drank more.

"Thank you for staying on the phone with me last night" She said in between gulps "And for breakfast." 

He continued to study her tiny rented room with an enigmatic expression in his eyes. When he spotted her clothes strewn about the heater a fleeting thought formed in his mind: She should be with him instead...not living like this.

"No problem" He replied. He sat down at the foot of her bed and focused his stare on her. Last night when he had picked up the phone and realized it was her he couldn't describe the relief he felt...that she was okay...that she still wanted to speak with him. Her voice was tired though and laced with something he just couldn't pinpoint. This morning his mother and Doris- his grandmother had decided to go shopping and he didn't have to be at work for a few hours. His decision to get the logistics on her specific where-abouts from Rocco and buy her breakfast was impulsive. He had needed to see her again, badly. She smelled of strong lavender and light cinnamon. And baggy clothing hid the soft curves of her body he knew were there. He was tempted to trail his fingers along her face for longer but decided against it when he felt her pull away. Neither said a word as she ate and he stared longingly for several moments, they were surreal moments in which everything felt right although so much still went unexplained. He obtained this unfathomable feeling of satisfaction as he sat on her bed and watched her studiously.

"Jeremy?" Kayla said quietly. He felt pure pleasure when he heard his name wrapped in her angelic voice. Instantaneously he wanted to rip her clothes off and take her right there, pull her onto the bed and love her like she needed to be loved. The feeling was so strong that he almost carried out that sinful thought. Guilt washed over him at his loss of self-control, she had probably faced a lot worse than physical abuse with Bruce and if there was anything he wanted from her it was her trust not her fear. He bit back a groan. 

"Yes" 

She walked over to him with the sandwich in one hand and the tea in another. She sat down turning slightly towards him. Jeremy was rendered speechless in her midst; to him, the feeling was euphoria and belittling all at once. Nothing ever tripped him up...he didn't respect uncertainty or irresolution...yet here he was, resembling the epitome of both. Now that they were even closer than before, he studied the contours of her face. He couldn't see any bruising only her enticing russet skin. Jet black tresses flowed against her shoulders beautifully and those almond shaped weapons she called eyes burned intensely. A small smile curved her sensuous lips, defining the dimples in her cheeks. She was gorgeous and he knew she didn't even know it. He saw himself leaning in and capturing her lips, kissing her neck...gripping her waist. He looked away briefly to even the scattered erratic beats pounding against his chest.

"Would you like a piece?" Kayla offered him half her sandwich and he shook his head.

"No, its all yours" He said amiably. 

"Tell me about your self" She said boldly, nibbling on the sandwich. Jeremy contemplated the consequences of the truth and decided it wasn't worth the chivalrous attempt...he would just have to leave certain aspects of his life out. 

"What would you like to know?" He asked softly.

"How old are you?"

"Twenty-four"

"What's your favorite color?"

"Silver"

"How tall are you?"

"Six-two" 

"What are you?"

"Italian"

"What do you do?"

"I head an investment banking agency."

Kayla gazed into his green eyes feeling less in touch with reality with each blink of an eye. Was he real? Could someone really just waltz into her mauled life and seek a friendship with her? Especially if they knew she had nothing to offer?

"Why did you stop your car that night?" She asked cautiously, afraid of a response that she didn't necessarily want to hear.

"I knew you were in trouble." He answered truthfully. 

"Fair enough." She said mostly too herself. Jeremy smiled. She rested her hand on his and when he showed no sign of disgust or annoyance she rested her head on his shoulder and continued to chew on the last piece of her sandwich.

"Did I tell you how old I am?" She asked lightly

"No" He already knew almost everything about her but that was not something she needed to know, lest he scare her away...besides, she herself had never told him her age. Jeremy rested his chin on the crown of her head savoring every breath of air that held her scent. It was paradoxical how easy it was for them to act as if they had done this a thousand times. She was abused and he wasn't used to small talk. They were two extreme negative signs that were meant to repel, not attract as they did now.

"Eighteen" Kayla admitted

"Where did you go to high school?" 

"Brampton High...in twelfth grade I had to stop going, though"

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She shifted slightly and her hair tickled his face. She closed her eyes and wrapped her fingers around his large hand.

"They say the parts of your brain that help you make rational decisions and tame your impulses are not developed until your well into your twenties. I think most teenagers are cruel because most know no better. I don't think if they knew what I faced at home...they would treat me the way they did."

Jeremy ran his hands through her hair and down her back, hugging her to his chest. She sniffed and he immediately felt helpless. It was as if she was broken into a billion pieces of glass already and he was responsible for putting her back together without getting cut in the process.

"He won't ever hurt you again, Kayla" It was a promise he intended on keeping. Jeremy allowed her to cry in his arms; he wondered when was the last time someone held her...helped her. Anger like never before filled his heart and hardened his muscles; Bruce Torch didn't deserve life. 

"I hate crying" She said. She gradually shifted out of his embrace placing her small hands on her thighs and squaring her shoulders as if to stop the flow of her tears with good posture and deep rehearsed breaths. 

"You can't keep everything inside...that could kill you." 

"I'm tired of tears. They don't help. They just dry to your cheeks and remind you that you're alone. Their spiteful." She wiped at her eyes frustratingly.

"You're not alone, Kayla" Jeremy whispered softly into her hair, leaning into her ever so slightly before wrapping his arms around her. He felt her body tense in a seemingly impulsive way, seconds later it relaxed...trustingly.

"Oh yeah? Who says so?" She muttered bitterly, unaware of the magnitude of his previous words. He tightened his arms around her, savoring the feel of her soft body pressed against his.

"I do" He stated clearly. Kayla pushed away, only to stare into his eyes with a look in hers that depicted just how desperate she was to believe him. He lifted his hand to caress her face and she caught his wrist before he could touch her skin.

"Jeremy" She gazed down at her gray sweatpants feeling lower than before for some reason "I-I'm not worth it." She dared to raise her gaze just a little to his hand, his wrist was tense under her slight grip and his pulse quickened as she spoke. She watched him ball his hand into a fist as if he wanted to prevent it from exploding-it was the most bewitching display of human emotion she had ever witnessed. He seemed incapable of controlling his most perceptible emotion: anger. And although she should have been scared and was almost positive if it was anyone else she would have been, she wasn't. He was too interesting. She dared to look up completely into his eyes, noticing the exuberant green fire there and then his clenched jaw. His eyes served as his ultimate weakness; they were as translucent as a newly cleaned sliding glass door. You could see everything clearly: the grass, the stark blue sky, and the birds, even maybe the wind... and as riveting as such a picture would be it would also be a faultless exemplification of just how clear his scorching emerald eyes were.




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 02



"What would make you say something like that?" He nearly snarled.

"I just know it" she murmured, wholly mortified.

"What you know is what you've been taught; let that sink in." 

"When you're told something over and over and over again...it begins to look truer than anything else, until it's the only truth." Kayla whispered as her fingers traced the warm thick veins on the back of his hand. His hands captured her face and she found herself forced to look directly into his eyes, quickly realizing that was her favorite place to be: in his eyes 

"I can show you the truth" He said, his breath coating her lips and caressing her cheeks. She inhaled purposefully, basking in the mere feeling of his proximity.

"Do you trust me?" He asked broodingly. Kayla's hands grabbed at his elbows as she closed her eyes and sunk her cheek into the warmth of his palm. She nodded.

"And I don't know why" she admitted shyly. 

***

10:00 am

"Mauricio, what a pleasure" Paul Alessi kissed Mauricio Pelosi's cheeks and ushered the man into the plush seat across his desk.

"I like what you've done with the place, Paulie. I've got to admit." Mauricio chuckled as he popped a Cuban cigar between his teeth and handed another one to Paul.

"You always know how to treat a friend." Paul smiled as he placed the cigar between his lips and searched for his lighter. After lighting Mauricio's and his own he leaned back in his chair.

"You see, Paulie" Mauricio began "I've been concerned about our previous arrangement." 

Paul grunted his consent for the other man to continue.

"No one knows how to run this thing better than you, but I'm having my doubts about Gianni."

"My son?" Paul inquired rhetorically

"What about him?" Paul took another drag from his cigar

"Haven't you wondered why he hasn't joined the administration? Gianni ain't no empty suit, we all know that. But how helpful will it be having your only son separate himself from the administration. You need someone to carry on the name."

"Gianni will join the administration, Mauricio. My son doesn't concern you."

"He'll be my son soon, Paulie...I just think the boy is too smart to be pondering. He's up to something; top notch investment banker...opening up clubs, more branches...a restaurant. Get him in Paulie, and get him in now."

"If you weren't like a brother to me, I would burn (kill) you for this." Paul said solemnly. Mauricio didn't so much as squirm in his seat.

"I ain't stupid Paulie...if you don't take heed, something much worst is gonna go down than my death."

"Like?"

"There's been a shortage on girlfriends (cops persuaded to work with mobsters are referred to as girlfriends). A lot of people know about Gianni's reluctance to join; some of my men have informed me that others are willing to take matters into there own hands. No one takes the Omerta if they haven't been made, (haven't joined) and more and more of the lower-ranking mob members are beginning to resent Gianni's status. We got rats all over, Paulie, (rats were snitches) startin' a lot a shit. I suggest you sit him down and talk to him. He has too much fiscal potential to remain legit...money leaves footprints; it'll be much harder for him to join later to take over for you ten years down the road when the cops have every tax report he's ever made and all of a sudden they stop gettin' em. If he's made now, he has a lot more protection and the chances of the feebs (FBI) using those financial foot prints run real low. They can't use what they can't see.

"I want every rat brought in." Paul replied coolly

"If I knew who they were we wouldn't be having this problem."

Paul nodded at Mauricio, expressing his understanding of the situation.

"And you're afraid that when he marries Angela, those rats will have leverage."

"Don't get me wrong, I am concerned about Gianni as well, but yes...I am worried for the safety of my daughter. A lot of people see him as a threat to our secrecy. You take the Omerta as a code of silence when you're ushered into the administration, the family...but he isn't in the 'family'."

"You seem like you believe my son is a liability as well, Mauricio" Paul commented as he exhaled a cloud of cigar smoke.

"I believe the feebs (FBI) are too much of a liability for Gianni to remain in his current position." Mauricio answered smartly.

***

November 12th 2000

Loans and Investments (Jeremy's workplace)

10:05 am

"Emilio" Jeremy nodded to the mobster as he flew passed him and into his office...he was running late. Emilio didn't actually work in his office because Jeremy didn't use or deal with mobsters. He was a sort of work Body Guard; hence he worked under the guise of another one of Jeremy's secretaries. Paul had assigned him to Jeremy a couple months back when someone had attempted to kill him. Although Rocco was reluctant to take in the mobster who was similar in age to them both...things had worked out. No one working in his branch actually asked why Jeremy needed another secretary and Cassie didn't seem to mind. If anything he worked for Jeremy so no one had reason to question it. Jeremy handled the investment banking department, serving governments and organizations that issued securities. Many of his father's close friends referred to him as the handler, specifically because his father would come to him for advise on handling and investing his money and although Jeremy did advise his father and his father's investors, his name wasn't in the books and he wasn't on his father's pay roll, there was nothing fiscally connecting him to Paul and that's how he wanted it to stay. 

"Mr. Alessi" Emilio acknowledged.

Jeremy barged into his office and took a seat behind his desk, after reading all of the post-its Cassie (his official secretary) had left him; he turned on his computer and began to work. His cell-phone rang five minutes later. 

"Alessi" Jeremy had a bad habit of forgetting to look at the caller id when his phone rang. He cursed silently in chagrin.

"It's Rocco"

"Anything new?" Jeremy asked as he continued to look for the latest report on the Baker investments he was co-managing with Ryan Baker. He knew why Rocco was calling...it had something to do with Bruce Torch. Rocco called for administration issues that concerned Jeremy...or for a regular chat; but Rocco wouldn't be calling him for a regular chat if he knew he was at work.

"Dracula called me with some interesting news about Bruce Torch's latest rendezvous." Rocco replied. Jeremy slipped a hand in the pocket of his slacks and leaned back in his chair. Sam DeMarco was always referred to as Dracula, he was a high ranking mob member that always cleaned up after a messy crime scene...he also did most of the clocking since it was something he was extremely good at. He was considered one of the Alessi Headcrushers, someone chosen to deliver a hard beating to another, with intent not to kill, but to harm. 

"Go on" 

"Torch purchased a piece" Rocco began "Dracula said that he tracked him on the west highway (the only highway exclusively controlled by one of Paul's big earners). 

"Said he was headed straight for the Cross Roads Motel, that's where Kayla staying." Rocco finished.

"How soon?" Jeremy snapped. Rocco knew he was referring to how long it would take Bruce to reach her. 

"Twenty, thirty tops" Rocco confirmed. 

"Shit. Alright, find Ray and meet me outside in no more than five." Jeremy felt like a complete idiot. He closed his eyes briefly attempting to collect his thoughts before his temper won over. 

"Fuck!" He fumed. He quickly dialed Kayla's Motel room number on his cell phone and silently prayed she would pick up. She did just that on the second ring.

"Jeremy?" She sounded so hopeful-vibrant even.

"Kayla I need you to listen to what I'm about to say, but I need you to stay calm." Jeremy rushed out. He heard no reply only the quickening of loud breaths.

"Kayla" He urged

"Yeah"

"Get the gun I gave you and remove the safety...go into the bathroom and sit in the corner farthest from the door, do you understand?"

"What's happening?" She said weakly. Jeremy could tell she was already on the verge of a nervous break down. He wanted so badly to be in that room protecting her.

"Kayla I need you to do this for me."

"Okay, I can't take the phone with me, though" She stammered.

"I know, just grab the gun, remove the safety and tell me when you've done that. Then I want you to hang up and go in the bathroom." Jeremy shrugged on his jacket as he spoke to her and lifted a finger-signaling a curious looking Cassie who had just walked in to be patient. A few seconds later he heard Kayla's voice once more.

"I've got the gun" She said

"Hold it just like I showed you...never loosen that grip. Hang up."

"Jeremy...I'm scared." Her voice cracked.

"Don't be, I'm coming for you, I promise. Hang up, Kayla." Kayla hung up and Jeremy shoved his cell phone in his pocket.

He had just left the Cross Roads Motel. After Kayla had finished her breakfast he had given her his gun, the gun he always kept in the dashboard of his Pagani Zonda. Jeremy spent nearly two hours showing her how to use it and how to remove the safety. There had been many moments when he contemplated asking her to stay with him instead of at the dreary motel room she was in; like when he showed her the pistol and the look that spread across her face felt like a punch in his gut, but she didn't ask him why he had one or if he ever used it before...which he had; or when he told her not to be afraid to shoot directly at Bruce's head and her whole body began to shake. She was extremely fragile and he had a feeling asking her to stay with him would set her on edge. So he gave her the gun highly doubtful that she would have to use it, because if Bruce was anywhere near her...Jeremy would find out and he would end this before she ever attempted too do so with that gun.

"Mr. Alessi?" Cassie murmured whilst staring at Jeremy as if he'd gone crazy

"I've got to leave for an hour or so, something has come up. I want you to get Lancaster working on the Baker investment immediately and leave my office locked. Tell Emilio not to piss his pants, I'll give him a call in a few."

"I'm on it" she said quickly.

***

November 12th 2000

Cross Roads Motel

10:30am 

Kayla sat in the corner farthest from the bathroom door clutching Jeremy's handgun like a maniac. She wasn't as scared as she usually was when she knew Bruce was 'on his way', probably because this time someone else was on their way as well...for her. Despite her optimism her hands still shook violently and her heart still threatened to burst out of her chest. Whimsically and slowly she began to hum a song she'd heard just a few days ago by Coldplay called "See You Soon". She hummed softly enjoying the feel of her heart beats slowing and her hands grow still. Surprisingly the words came floating back to her with wild abandon. She wrapped her left arm around her shins; the gun still gripped in her right, and sang her self into serenity.

"Cause in a bullet proof vest with the windows all closed, I'll be doing my best...I'll see you soon" She sang in a whispered tone rocking back and forth rhythmically. 

"They came for you...came snapping at your heels, came snapping at your heels..."

"In a telescope lens, when all you want is friends...I'll see you soon."

"You lost your trust...you lost your trust...don't lose your trust"

Loud knocks struck her front door, she could hear the muffled raucous even through the wood of the bathroom door. She sang a little louder, knowing exactly who it was that continued to knock. She closed her eyes repeating the chorus. 

"Kayla!" She heard Bruce scream. She sang louder, knowing he wouldn't hear her over his own insanity and needing to be somewhere...anywhere other than where she was.

"Kayla, open this door!!" He roared. Kayla squeezed her eyes shut; pressing her body farther into the corner, praying Jeremy was on his way; she never stopped singing.

All of a sudden she heard a loud gun shot and nearly jumped up to full height. She heard the door swing open and the hard clunk of his boots. She halted her singing resigning to a barely audible hum, a tear streaming down her face. He had a gun. 

"Lock your elbow and line the gun up with your target...the rest is up to that index finger. Don't hesitate and don't stop, empty the cylinder." Jeremy had said. The sound of his voice lingering in her mind gave her the strength she needed to stand up and take deep breaths. She lifted her right hand, and locked her elbow, training the gun on the bathroom door. Kayla bit down, clenching her jaw. Even as she toughened her exterior her insides grew numb. Tears still fell from her clear hazel eyes though they didn't hinder her focus. 

"Kayla" She heard Bruce whisper. He sounded as if he had his face pressed up against the door. 

"I don't want to hurt you Kayla" He drawled. A sickening sensation filled Kayla's stomach. She tightened the grip on Jeremy's gun as the tears came faster. Where are you, Jeremy? Where are you...where are you...where are you? The hand that held the gun began to shake and she steadied it with her left. A small involuntary whimper escaped her mouth as Bruce punched the door...swiftly losing his non existent patience.

"If I waste a bullet in this door I'll have to put one in your head." He screamed. Kayla winced. 

"Open the door!" He growled "Open the Goddamn door!"

Kayla clasped her free hand over her mouth as she began to weep. Sob after sob tore from her dry throat, stifled by her clammy fingers. She realized that Jeremy would be too late. She realized that she most likely wouldn't be able to shoot the gun. She realized that Bruce would most likely shoot his. As she realized these things another gun shot seized the air and left the bathroom door swinging lamely aside. Bruce moved so quick she wasn't sure what was happening even as it happened. Suddenly, her back hit the cold dirty tile of the bathroom and the gun was being torn from her hand. Jeremy's gun. She screamed as loud as she could, struggling to fight him off. She didn't know why she screamed the name she did...being that the man that that name belonged to was probably miles away.

"Jeeeerrrrremmmmmy!!!!" She hollered, clawing Bruce even as he pried the gun from her and threw it out of the small bathroom. He then placed the barrel of his gun at her temple. When she halted any sudden movements or sounds-only her hiccups jarring her chest- he sluggishly traced her lips with his fingers. He grabbed a fist full of her silky curls and pulled.

"Aah!" An unearthly sob flowed from her inner being, echoing in the bathroom and staining her memory. 

"Did you think that I would let you leave?" Bruce growled. Kayla continued to wail, turning her head away from him regardless of the fact that the barrel of his gun followed.

"Answer me!!" He roared into her ear. He released her hair and pressed the barrel harder into her temple, satisfied with her cry of pain. He reached down with his free hand to pull down her sweat pants eliciting an animalistic response from her.

"No!!!!" She screamed, kicking her legs and squirming away. Bruce cocked his gun and watched as she immediately stilled. 

"Every human being values life the most, so don't fight me when you know exactly what you're going to lose if you do, Kayla" He whispered lovingly into her ear as he pulled her underwear down her thighs and unbuckled his belt. 

"I've missed you" He cooed sinisterly, watching her tears drain down the corner of her eyes, along her temples and onto the barrel of his gun. He would never shoot her, but she didn't know that. At this stage in his life, she was the only thing he had any sort of power over ...he would never lose that.

"Please don't do this" She murmured over and over again all the while staring deadly at the mocking fluorescent light of the ceiling. When she felt him spread her legs a deep sorrowful scream shook her chest, it sounded like the mourning cry of a widow or the wail of a mother who had lost a child. In a way, she was about to lose something as well, a little piece of her soul. She wished she didn't want to live as much as she did in that moment, that way she could fight until he blasted her away. But she did want to live, if anything she had something...someone to live for...to look forward to: her new friend. It was an unrequited reason...but still a reason. Bruce swung the back of his hand across her face with a powerful blow and everything before her eyes darkened as stark pain attacked her. He reached down to align himself and she squeezed her eyes shut, ready for the pain. 

But before Bruce could follow through, before she could fully prepare herself for what was bound to happen, a gunshot pierced the air and a strangled cry assailed her ears. Bruce's gun hit the ground simultaneously as blood leaked from his mouth unto her face. The weight of his dying body pinned her to the ground and she was forced to witness him struggle to breathe through weak wheezing. Suddenly he was lifted off of her and into the air. And then she saw him...Jeremy, a murderous look on his face as he pinned Bruce against the wall and proceeded to beat the living hell out of him. Jeremy looked crazed as he threw fist after bruised fist in Bruce's face and abdomen. Bruce cries were of a tortured man; his pleas for mercy were cut short as Jeremy threw him to the ground before kicking him in the head. 

Kayla looked away from the bloody scene and had forced the wave of sickness down, struggling to pull up her underwear when another man with long blonde hair-the one from the restaurant-lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the bathroom. Her sweatpants were still bunched around her left ankle and she hadn't gotten the chance to fully pull her underwear over herself. Despite her total indecency she clung to the burly man that resembled an angel, gripping his shoulders as if her life depended on it. She heard another gunshot go off...and then another...and another. The man laid her gently on the bed and pulled up her underwear and sweatpants. 

"Get Dracula on the phone." He said solemnly to another man who stood by the door. Kayla's aching faced twisted into a wry look of confusion. Dracula? 

The creak of the broken bathroom door permeated through the small room and Jeremy stalked out covered in blood. As soon as Kayla caught the wild look in his eyes a new wave of tears flowed from her tired eyes; she knew he thought he was too late...it was in his green eyes buried and boiling. He dropped to his knees on the bed, his hands hesitant to touch her in fear of hurting her; they remained suspended inches above her small form depicting the very indecision that plagued his frenzied mind as he fought to get over the intensity of the blindingly white fire running through his being and embedding itself within his veins. He had never broken a promise before until now and as he stared down at her, curled up and defeated as tears ran unhindered from her shut eyes he felt as if he could walk back into that bathroom and raise Bruce Torch from the dead just to kill him again...slowly. 

He had found that once he shot his gun he couldn't stop himself from emptying every shell into that monster's body. He knew days from now the sight of the blood and the mangled body parts would come back to haunt him, but he'd never regret it. He'd killed her burden...the person who'd hurt her the most. But that didn't change the fact that he had allowed him to hurt her just one more time. He tried to block out the sight of Bruce Torch above her, between her legs...his balding head buried in her neck...his hand in between them doing God knows what; Jeremy dropped the gun to ground. It was only when he felt her small hand grab a hold of his pant leg that his heart stilled, his breath ceasing in his throat. Time couldn't catch up to his movements as he lifted her into his arms. Her hair fanning his shoulders and face and the lightness of her body weight filling his arms.




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 02



"I'm so sorry" he whispered pleadingly, his mind, void of anything but what she had gone through because he had been too slow...if one-hundred and twenty miles per hour in a sixty zone was slow. His hands were bloody along with the rest of his clothing but all Kayla could smell was his trademark scent and all she could feel was the hard muscles of his chest and arms. For some reason the blood didn't bother her the way it should have, for some reason the image she had of Jeremy, her angel, never disintegrated or morphed...it didn't feel like Bruce was dead, it didn't feel like he was alive...she couldn't feel or comprehend anything in that moment except Jeremy. She buried her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around him, allowing him to hold her.

"I guarantee the local cops and the feebs in five minutes if we don't get Dracula in here now." Rocco stated in Italian as he gathered up the clothing she had on the heater and her black Jansport bag on the ground. She had washed her clothes and laid them to dry on the heater because she didn't have enough money to use a washing machine-refusing to spend the grand Jeremy had given her.

"Dracula's outside. Lets get her out of here." Ray agreed.

Jeremy lifted her into his arms following after Rocco and Ray as Sam passed them with two huge black duffle bags that paled in comparison to the size of his arms and shoulders. Jeremy nodded at him and he nodded back succinctly.

***

November 12th 2000 

Catalina, Jeremy's Residence 

5: 30pm

"Does she eat ginger?" Doris whispered as she continued to chop up fresh onions and ginger on the vegetable cutting board. Jeremy leaned against the counter with his sleeves rolled up and crossed over his chest.

"I don't know; I think any type of soup is good, nonna." He replied solemnly. When he had brought Kayla back to his house-after stopping briefly in Rocco's garage to change his clothes and wash his hands and face- his mother and Doris had gone crazy over the girl in his arms, tending to the bruise underneath her eye and the cut on her top lip and removing her tattered blood splattered clothing. He had called Cassie and told her that he wasn't coming in for the rest of the day. He grew more worried as each hour passed. Kayla had fallen asleep in the car ride over and hadn't woken up since; it was now eight hours after he had found her. 

"How did you say you met her again?" Doris stirred the onions and tiny pieces of ginger into the boiling vegetable soup.

"I didn't" Jeremy grinned for the first time since this morning when he was with Kayla. It was obvious Doris knew he hadn't told her how they met.

"I know" Doris retorted

"A love interest?" Doris pried 

"A friend" Jeremy grabbed an apple from the bowl sitting on the island and bit into it. 

"Who hit her?" Doris asked in a more somber tone. A sad look crossed her features and she shook her head in disgust. 

"Her godfather" Jeremy replied in a tone of voice laced with anger. Doris turned to him and studied the hard set of his jaw and the pulse of his temple. He was angry...no he was more than that, he was furious. She frowned absently and wondered what he did to the man when a scary thought crossed her mind. What did he do to the man?"

"What did you do?" She whispered. Jeremy's head snapped in his grandmother's direction.

"What do you mean?" He dead-panned. Doris set the soup spoon down and stared Jeremy straight in the eye.

"What did you do to her godfather?" she repeated anxiously. Jeremy continued to stare only to look away and bite into his apple. 

"Oh no, Jeremy" Doris said softly in disbelief "No, no, no"

"Don't tell Sarah." He ran his hand through his hair.

"She would have a heart attack and die before I do." Doris murmured reaching up to place her aged hand against the side of his face and whisper something in Italian.

"Oh, figlio mio, mi stai spezzando il cuore (Oh my son, you are breaking my heart). Revenge is never justified"

"Were you not the one who said righteous revenge is redemption, nonna?"

"Was it righteous?"

"He can never hurt her again."

"I see" Doris said insightfully. "So you would take one life to save another; you somehow know the worth of each human life and can calculate which one is worth more." She concluded sardonically 

"I know she was worth it"

"I know you do, I never said she wasn't. Just be careful with that mentality of yours or you'll find yourself left in the end as the person who isn't worth it." 

"Non cambierai mai (you'll never change); always coughing up riddles." Jeremy said through a small smile. Doris chuckled softly and began to stir the soup once more.

"She's beautiful you know?" Doris noted.

"Oh yeah? I didn't even notice." Jeremy remarked sarcastically.

"And that's exactly why an hour ago you couldn't take your eyes off of her, pacing like a perplexed puppy" Doris teased ignoring his sarcasm. 

"Spare me the alliterations" Jeremy grinned despite his mood "Your going insane old woman."

"How did you meet her?" Doris turned the fire on the stove down and pulled up a bar stool from around the island next to it. For an old woman she was sturdy and quick. Jeremy admired that about her. She was eighty-one years old and a fiery woman. She stood five feet tall with a lion's heart and an angel's touch. Doris had long, blindingly whitish gray hair and dark brown eyes that could light up a room or cast a cloud of irrefutable darkness. When you studied her, the way she handled children, or the way she could scold yet compliment concurrently, the way she could make a stubborn man waver, or a proud woman humble...the reasons for Sarah's behavior were no longer such a mystery. He told her everything, from how he met Kayla to how he came upon her coincidently at Sacred Haven and about last night when she called...and this morning. Jeremy never really opened up to anyone; he wasn't talkative like Rocco or extremely sociable like most of the members of his family, but he could always open up to Doris.

"I think you should call Dr. Schneiderman. Ask her to come in and examine her." Doris said morosely. 

"The-" Jeremy cleared the innate growl from throat "The way it looked...I have this sick feeling that I was too late. She was all tears and trembling." He mumbled in Italian.

"The soup is ready, go wake her up and after she eats we'll convince her to see her."

Jeremy gave Doris a puzzled look.

"Would you want anyone probing around in you if had been through what she's been through?" 

"Right."

***

5:40 pm

"You'll suffocate her" Jeremy sighed tiredly as his mother propped a few more pillows under and around Kayla's head. 

"She'll wake up with a crick neck if her head isn't supported." Sarah whispered whilst tucking the girl's dark tresses behind her ears. Jeremy could tell Sarah liked this too much. She raised three girls...it was what she was good at: dressing them up, grooming them, nurturing them...he could tell Kayla's presence resembled that aspect of her life that had long since faded into the background. Her daughters were grown now, the youngest twenty-six years old.

"It's a shame what that man has done" Sarah remarked

"Rocco told you?" Jeremy took a seat next to his mother in the couch, staring straight ahead at the huge abstract painting of an ocean he had purchased only a couple weeks ago. He rested both hands behind his head, fingers laced, and yawned.

"Why haven't you talked about her before?" Sarah turned to Jeremy.

"I just met her a couple days ago" Jeremy sighed

"I know...Rocco even told me how you met. You could've have told me, though." Jeremy grunted. 

"What's that sound suppose to mean Gianni?" Sarah slapped her son's chest and watched as his lips turned upward in a smile. He grunted again before replying with a flippant remark.

"That's what it means" He muttered. Sarah gave a short chuckle and ran her hand over his face. It was a little habit of hers.

"You bring a random girl in your house, have her sleeping on your couch and force my mother to cook a huge pot of soup for her...and your explanation consists of..." Sarah imitated Jeremy's grunt, eliciting a chuckle from him. 

"First of all I didn't force Doris to do a thing she practically ran Serena out of the house to get the ingredients and second of all I suggested we put her in the guest room but Doris insisted that she stay on the couch were she could keep an eye on her. You know she doesn't do stairs."

"How long will she stay" His mother asked soberly.

"As long as she needs. I hardly use the second floor, anyway." Sarah stared at her son in shock. Jeremy hated house guests, he was one of the few people who enjoyed solitude...complete and utter solitude.

"What does she do?"

"She's a waitress, she works at Sacred Haven."

"Rocco told me that too. So you mean to tell me she has been working at your favorite restaurant for god knows how long and you haven't seen her until now?"

"She just got a job there."

"What a coincidence." Sarah's voice rose to a high pitch dubious exclamation.

"You'll like her, ma." Jeremy said quietly, his gaze resting on his mother's profile. She smiled at him.

"You shouldn't be concerned about my feelings; you should be concerned about your own. You've had one close friend your whole life, you're a sickening perfectionist, you've never had a girlfriend for more than a month, you hate change, you wouldn't leave work if Doris was in the hospital with a heart attack-"

"That's not tru--"

"Don't interrupt me. You wouldn't leave work if Doris was in the hospital with a heart attack, you can't stand your future wife," Jeremy glared at her for the latter remark "you're highly paranoid, and you hate house guests that are not either me, Rocco, Rita, or Doris. Yet you're sitting here five thirty pm on a work day at home, sick with anxiety because the eighteen year old girl curled up on your couch that you just met several weeks ago won't wake up. You're willing to let her stay in your house for as long as she wants and god knows what you did to her godfather. Is there something going on between you two that you'd like to tell me, Gianni?" Sarah folded her arms and eyed her youngest child.

"Stop calling me Gianni" Jeremy replied simplistically.

"That's your name." 

"Its not the name you gave me."

"It's the name your father gave you."

"Exactly."

"Don't try to change the subject."

"I want to help her."

"And that's all?"

"That's all." He said. Sarah continued to gage his stoic expression waiting for a slip in composure. 

"Okay." She succumbed. A strangled cough ended the growing silence and Sarah quickly turned around to face a drowsy looking Kayla. Jeremy stood immediately and looked down into her sleepy face.

"Kayla?" He said, rubbing the back of her hand with his finger tips. Sarah gave her son a queer look...how out of character of him. Kayla winced silently, her left hand coming up to touch the swollen bruise on her face.

"Jeremy, go get some ice." Sarah slid her hand onto the girl's.

"Maria!" Jeremy called. "Get some ice and bring it into the living room, please." He called to his maid in Spanish, reluctant to leave Kayla's side. 

"Kayla, can you sit up?" Sarah placed her hands behind the pillows and propped the girl up. 

"Aagh" Kayla groaned in protest; her back was extremely sore. Sarah readjusted the pillows and took the ice pack from Maria who was initially passing it to Jeremy. She handed it to Kayla and Kayla placed it timidly on the side of her face.

"Hi" She said through an attempted smile, her eye lids still lifting and closing drowsily.

"Ciao, bella. My name is Sarah, I'm Jeremy's mother. You've been sleeping for around eight hours" Sarah grinned at Kayla. Kayla blushed under the older woman's bold scrutiny. She kept the ice on her face as she used her other hand to push herself up. Immediately she noticed what she was clothed in. She was clad in dark red pajama's...a silky soft cloud of comfort that soothed her skin. She frowned at the expensive looking clothing.

"The clothes you were in looked uncomfortable, no?" Sarah said sweetly in explanation. Kayla smiled sheepishly, wincing at the pain that seared through her face.

"Don't make any facial movements." She heard Jeremy say. Her head snapped in his direction surprised to see him standing right beside her. A warm feeling spread across her chest and down her arms into the very tips of her fingers. Intermittently the previous hours came back to her in a troubling sequence: Bruce, pain, Jeremy, Gunshot, Jeremy's arms. She looked up into his face searching ...well she didn't know what she was searching for but he possessed an unreadable expression in his eyes. She was diverted from his expression by Sarah's voice.

"Are you hungry?" She asked. Kayla's stomach growled its answer and Sarah laughed in response.

***

6:00 pm

"I don't think that would be such a great idea." Sarah said quietly. Kayla stared at her in confusion and then at the comical and genial woman she had come to know as Doris. She had just finished eating the best vegetable soup she had ever tasted. She sat on a barstool, her hands resting cautiously on each side of the empty soup bowl on the kitchen island. Sarah smiled at her sadly as Doris pushed her bowl aside and touched Kayla's hand. She had just asked to take a shower...why wouldn't they want her to do that?

"Sarah has a personal doctor. Her name is Dr. Schneiderman and I think we should call her in so she can perform a few tests and make sure you're not...injured." Doris said slowly. Kayla felt her face heat, instantly understanding why it wasn't such a good idea she took a shower.

"You mean-" she stuttered lamely.

"Yes" Doris affirmed. Kayla shook her head almost frantically.

"He didn't get to..." She had a hard time finishing the sentence. She bit her lip in shame and her fingers meddled with the edge of her empty porcelain soup bowl as she stared down at the dark marble of the kitchen island. It shone brightly and the intricate sea-like pattern of gray, black, and a seemingly forest green provided a design made for distraction. She heard Doris say something in Italian that sounded like an expression of relief before squeezing her hand.

"Jeremy thought he had." Sarah said "He'll sleep better knowing he didn't." She smiled at Kayla and Kayla smiled back.

"Did he ever...you know?" Doris asked Kayla. She had no problem saying 'rape' but it appeared Kayla did, so she took precautions. She watched as the girl's translucently hazel eyes grew dull; she closed them briefly before training them on the marble of the island once more. She nodded, her hair drastically covering her face. Doris quickly brushed her thick waves back from her face and lifted her chin with her finger tips.

"Hold your head up, child...you can't carry his shame on your back." She commanded in her elderly manner. 

"Then we should call in Dr. Schneiderman to perform some blood tests. We want to make sure you're okay, Kayla." Sarah assured. Kayla tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and sighed.

"I can take a shower right?" 

"Yes, of course" Doris smiled as Sarah answered simultaneously as well.

"Maria will help you with everything." Sarah had said. 

"Thank you so much for everything. The soup was amazing." She rubbed her stomach absentmindedly and smiled shyly. "And these pajama's are really comfortable" She turned her grin to Sarah who smile was just as wide.

"Don't speak another word of it, bella." Sarah touched Kayla's cheek amiably. Kayla hopped down from the stool and reached for both women's soup bowls. 

"Oh no, caro. We'll handle this. Go." Sarah got up to remove hers and Doris' bowl as well as Kayla's. She hit a black button on the wall by the deep steel kitchen sink. 

"Maria will escort you to your room and bathroom in a second." She said as she washed the dishes. Kayla's brows furrowed in curiosity at that black button. Did Sarah just call Maria with that? Doris noticed her expression and chuckled. 

"Whenever you see that panel with a black button you can use it to call her." She explained. "The red ones are for Leon, Jeremy's driver. And the gray ones are for his other maid Serena. If you don't see any buttons just call out. There aren't many in the living room." 

Kayla stared at the panel in disbelief. Not only did he have maids but they had beepers. She nodded disbelievingly at Doris. Maria walked into the kitchen and smiled almost mockingly at Kayla. She said something in Spanish and Doris gave her a glare, replying also in Spanish, with something that didn't sound so friendly.

Maria looked around her late twenties. She had long brown hair and dark brown eyes. Her skin was pale and her lips were set in a grim line. She wore jeans and a yellow blouse. She gave Kayla a strangely condescending look and then nodded her head towards the door leading out of the kitchen, her gaze still fixed on Kayla. Kayla guessed that was her cue to follow. They walked out of the kitchen, past the dining area, foyer, and into a hallway towards the back of the house. The ceilings were high and the walls were an elegant dark green. Pictures, portraits, and other paintings in fancy frames lined the walls in droves, lit perfectly by chandeliers of all sizes and formations. Kayla spotted one picture that was bigger than all the rest; on the bottom there was an engraving of an Italian phrase: Dio benedica la mia famiglia (God Bless my Family). She wondered what it meant.

In it she saw a young man with hazel-like green eyes and dusty brown hair-his jaw square and his lips thinly stretched over his chiseled features- dressed in a black suit. His arms were wrapped around a very young and very beautiful looking Sarah who was clad in a long red gleaming dress, her thick black hair pulled up into a high elegant ponytail. Before them, on soft looking, burgundy carpet sat three girls and a little boy. The tallest girl sat sophisticatedly before her father in a white dress with her long dark red hair flowing down her shoulder...not a strand out of place, a brilliant smile lit up her soft features and complemented the deep brown of her eyes...she resembled the man holding Sarah. The girl beside the tallest had short black hair, her eyes as blue as the sky-as blue as Sarah's. She sat Indian style, her dress-white also-flowing about her small stature like a cloud. The youngest looking girl had dark brown looking hair and light green eyes; her dress was white as well and appeared as if she had just done a twirl. The smile on her face resembled one of permanent fixture. And lastly was the little boy, no older than two. He wore a black suit just like the man who had to be his father. He smiled boyishly with two front teeth missing. His small arms were wrapped around the youngest looking girl's neck and his eyes were a liquid green fire. The little boy was Jeremy. She studied his features, the black of his hair and the tan of his skin. Besides hardened sculpted features, height, and perfect white teeth...he hadn't changed much. He made the cutest toddler.

"Are you finished?" She heard Maria say impatiently in a deep accent. Kayla was dragged out of her momentary phase and with one last look at the TV-perfect family she continued to follow Maria. 

***

"This will be your room." Maria said mechanically. She then stalked passed Kayla and into another room connected to the one she currently stood in. 

"This is the bathroom" She yelled out to Kayla. The echo was just as loud as her voice. 

"You wanna use the shower, learn to use the remote." She came back into the bedroom with a square silver device-it looked extremely complicated. 

"Ven aqui, mami" Maria grumbled. Kayla didn't know much Spanish but she knew what that meant. She followed Maria back into the bathroom.




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 03



 This is the Third installment (Pt.03 of Whispers of Redemption) Remember to vote and give Feedback, it is greatly appreciated. For all of you who have been voting, leaving public comments and emailing me feedback you have been a HUGE help! Thank you; you have no idea how much it means to me 

** One of you (you chose to remain anonymous) mentioned your appreciation for my mini soundtrack in pt.02.Just for a heads up as the story gets...darker and slightly more...'involved' you will be hearing a lot more from Thomas Newman. Kudos for commenting, it meant a lot to me. : )**

WARNING: I guess it would be in everyone's interest (although this is like the third installment : p) to warn any newcomers and even those of you that have read the last two installments. This will not be a short story (I'm anticipating at least 15 parts) and I won't have a lot of the 'good stuff' *wink wink nudge nudge* for a few more parts. It is important to me that you grow to know and understand the characters before we watch them grow to know and understand themselves and each other ...so if you're looking for a short, hot story...this isn't it; This is a narrative about people, in every sense of the word...it's bound to be long and complicated. With that being said, Enjoy.

P.S (I know I know you just want to read pt.03 hehe. Just one more thing) every chapter will start out with a quote, lyrics to be exact. It's up to you if you want to use the lyrics to find and listen to these songs; I wouldn't call it a soundtrack...just songs that literally define each chapter. Heads up! They are a tad bit cryptic...interpret and apply...and if you're interested in knowing if you're right about the link between the song and the chapter Comment or Give feedback with your idea.

Now...for real ENJOY!

Chapter 4: Premonitions

"Where will I meet my fate? Baby I'm a man, I was born to hate; And when will I meet my end?... In a better time you could be my friend."


November 13th 2000

2:55 am

Westgate Manor Rocco & Rita's Residence

He stared at her delicate form under their Egyptian cotton sheets. With each deep and quiet breath she took, her form slowly rose only to gracefully sink back down into the bed. He inaudibly stripped himself of his tie, dress shirt, shoes, slacks, socks and under shirt. In precise over-exaggerated and cautious movements he slipped under the cool cotton and fused his body to hers with a suppressed groan; his nose in her dark red fiery bob-cut hair, his chest against her elegant back, his hips nestled triumphantly against her rear, his thighs snatching the warmth of the back of hers', his cold feet seeking hers. Despite the possibility that he might wake her, he snuck an arm around her tiny waist as if that could pull her even closer than she already was. He knew she was tired but couldn't fight the insistent urge to wake her...he needed her. He placed a kiss at the nape of her neck; it was light and fleeting but electrifying all at once. She always tasted sweet, she was always so warm. His hand traveled in a caress from her hipbone to her stomach where it halted, splaying possessively across the slightly swollen area. His chest tightened inexplicably and a small smile seized his lips. 

"Your feet are cold" She murmured in her unconsciousness, still emerged in deep sleep. He kissed the area behind her ear and then her earlobe; he was on his way to the piercing at the very top of her ear when her hand came up reflexively to weakly slap him away. The back of her hand brushed against his nose and he smiled kissing each of her fingers, her hand losing life against his face as she was drawn into a deeper slumber. He chuckled at how much of a ridiculously deep sleeper she was. If he could've taken a picture of the moment he would've: her small loving hand on his face and her head buried in the pillow. He continued to kiss her fingers, his subconscious wanting her to wake up, his common sense telling him to let her sleep. She shuffled slightly and the insignificant movement sent a bolt of barefaced desire up his spine. Instantly he felt himself harden, the black silk of his boxer's egging the torturous tension on. Selfishly, his hips surged forward. On a whisper of a whimper his wife awakened. Immediately he felt guilty.

"Rocco?" She whispered wearily 

"Hey, baby" He whispered back whilst kissing the back of her neck. Rita rubbed her eye habitually and reached for the clock. 3: 00 am. She took one more glance to make sure her eyes weren't deceiving her as her even breaths faltered slightly and her ears grew hot. 3:00am. What was he doing coming home at 3:00 am?

Rocco felt her tense the moment she glanced at the small alarm clock on the bedside table. He closed his eyes in chagrin. He usually turned the bedside table clock around before he got into bed. Rita was always quarrelling with him for coming home late. 

"It's 3 o'clock in the morning" She said in a deceivingly placid voice.

"Don't get mad" He whispered into her hair. "I love you" he said teasingly. Rita pushed away and sat up abruptly. 

"Where were you?" She asked immediately, her palms sinking further into the silky scrunched up fabric of the sheet by her sides. 

"Work" 

"That's not vague," She scoffed bitterly as she buttoned the top buttons of her nightgown and readied herself to stand. Rocco simultaneously wrapped an arm around her waist and buried his face in her back. 

"I had to handle some business. If I could've made it home earlier, I would've. You know that, Rita" He said-his words muffled by the fabric of her gown.

"Let go of me, Rocco." She said slowly. He knew she was angry. It was more like fear than it was anger. His 'profession' required secrecy and ambiguity...the very two things Rita hated. She was worried that one day he wasn't going to come home and Jeremy would show up on her door step with the news. She was worried their baby would grow up without a father. She was worried that she was going to lose her best friend before she was ready to let him go. She wrapped her tiny hands around his forearm with the intention of prying it from around her waist; instead she found her hands traveling the soft toned expanse of it. She traced the veins along his arm and smiled faintly when she felt his nose nudge her spine.

"Rocco" She murmured "Please be careful" Her voice trembled. Her grip tightened on his forearm and she fought the knot growing in her throat. "Okay?" 

It was unlike Rita to cry...in fact she'd rather scream, claw, and spit than cry. Ever since she had gotten pregnant her hormones had gone completely berserk. She would cry when he left in the mornings and she would cry when he didn't come home on time. It was ridiculous and embarrassing for her because she wasn't the type of woman to stay home and mope. For god sakes, she was a corporate lawyer completely capable of digging a dying business out of its own mess and reviving it...completely capable of handling her own. Rocco refused to let her work while she was pregnant, although he had no idea that she worked three times a week now instead of everyday. Derek, her boss, wouldn't give her maternity leave until she hit her five month mark. She knew for a fact Rocco would make one hell of a scene and she would probably get fired if she told him...hence the covertness. She felt the familiar sting at the back of her eyes and took a small breath in hopes of staunching her irrationality.

"I'm always careful" Rocco replied as he tightened his arm around her waist. She nearly burst out in tears when he said that. Rocco loved to act as if he held his destiny in the palms of his hand. He liked to act like he controlled what happened and what didn't...liked to act like he was invincible. It was what had attracted her to the occasionally arrogant and unconventional man; she had loathed him at first...but that loathing had turned into liking and liking had turned into utterly adoring. The very thing that attracted her to him now scared her witless. She couldn't lose Rocco. She had lost two bothers and both parents and lived to tell the story...but she couldn't lose Rocco. Tentatively, she reached for his hand and placed it on her abdomen. 

"Be careful for us" She spoke meaningfully, her hand resting on his. She closed her eyes as he kissed his way up her back, reveling in the heat of his lips as it seared through her night gown. He rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped both arms around her. His lips caressed her ear and she shivered involuntarily. Rocco stared at the soft curve of her neck; her sleek hair cut accentuated the shape. In his peripheral he caught the slightest movement. He turned just in time to see a tear roll down her cheek. Her head was turned to the side slightly and he watched the tear roll in a painfully slow pace down the profile of her cheek. It was like a kick to his gut. Rita never cried; yet she had been crying too much lately. His fingers captured the tear before it could fall and he was whispering words of comfort before he could think of them. 

"I'm here" He said broodingly "I'm not going anywhere" He nearly growled. "Don't watch the clock, Rita. Time can't break my promise. I won't ever leave you." 

Rita broke down in soft sobs at his words. He was so oblivious to how poetic he was. Time can't break my promise. She replayed the sentence in her mind over and over again before she filed it away. She wouldn't forget. She turned around searching for the pleasure and comfort of his strong arms. Instinctively she buried her face in his neck and wrapped her arms around his sinewy abdomen. He drew her down to the bed and kissed her tear stained cheeks.

"Come sei bella (How beautiful you are)" He said through a small smile. She sniffed sheepishly and kissed his neck, then his jaw and cheek. Her lips lingered on his nose and he chuckled. Suddenly his lips were moving against hers and she whimpered in genuine pleasure. His lips were euphoric. They moved against hers in a rhythm that drove her senses crazy, their warmth threatened to consume her. His hands seized her hips and he pulled her flush against his power-built body. She moaned his name and felt his lips turn upward in a triumphant smile. His tongue wrought havoc against her lips and she parted them eagerly, he delved into the depth of her sweet mouth, his skilled tongue dueling with hers. He rolled onto his back bringing her with him, his hands never leaving her hips. She brought her hands up to his face, caressing the skin restlessly as his tongue worked wonders. His hands delved into her hair and her legs subconsciously fell to straddle him. He broke the kiss to pierce her green gaze with his cerulean one. With deliberateness about him he tightened his hands around her waist and ground his hips into hers. His eyes never left hers purposefully. The look that overcame her entire visage as his hardened cock roughly caressed her hidden nub was worth everything money couldn't buy...it was worth a stall in time. That look alone nearly set him off.


"Rocco" She moaned in a tortured tone. She wiggled her hips and he growled demandingly, holding her steady with his hands just to continue his ruthless attack. She drew in her bottom lip with her teeth as her eyes fluttered closed and her brows drew together in neediness. Her head fell forward as her hips adopted their own rate of movement; grinding into him greedily. He groaned and the sound had her reaching down to release him from his boxers and provide them both with what they wanted. He stilled her hand with his own and she whimpered in protest. He wrapped his arms around her small curvy form and suddenly she was on her back, his tall and muscular body hovering over hers. He placed his hands on either side of her head, the tension in them quite evident. He was nestled perfectly against her. 

"I need you" She pleaded softly. Italian words of frustration escaped her pink lips. 

"Not as much as I need you" He whispered back as he removed his boxers and brought his lips down on hers; the softness of them assailed him. He spread her legs with his own and her hands fell to his hips in anticipation. He trailed eruptive kisses down her neck and between her breasts; Rita ran her hands in his hair, pulling him closer to where she wanted his lips to be. He listened in pity, and with an open kiss he drew a nipple into the hot cavity of his mouth. His tongue twirled around the sensitive bud and Rita writhed beneath him as unintelligible words left her swollen lips. He chose that moment to remind her that she was his. In a quick yet brutally intense moment he entered her to the hilt. A low moan escaped his lips, her name entangled in it. Her eyes flew open as her breaths rushed out in shallow huffs. Rocco fought to keep himself in check, staunching his need to pull back and drive into her again: into the warm, wet secure glove of satin that belonged to him and only him. He cupped the side of her face.

"Are you okay?" He asked in Italian. She nodded with a look that couldn't be described as anything else but love in her eyes. She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders-her fingers splayed joyously across the hot expanse of his back- and pulled him down to her, pressing her breasts against his rock hard chest as her intimate muscles involuntarily clenched around the source of her pleasure. 

"Make love to me" She whispered into his ear. He needed no further instruction. 

***



November 13th 2000

8:00 am 

Jeremy's Residence: Guest Room

It was a soft and warm weight...not uncomfortable but certainly noticeable. She was too tired to lift her eyelids, too drawn to the peaceful sleep that claimed her to allow the weighty softness to distract her. She heard her name called by an aged yet womanly voice. Although she had only known this voice for twelve hours she could certainly picture the face of the person it belonged to, Doris. 

"Kayla" Doris shook the small girl once more. Kayla's eyes fluttered open slowly and her brows furrowed in drowsy confusion. Doris smiled her trademark smile; warming and all-consuming.

"Good Morning, Cara" She said sweetly as she leaned away with an appreciating look. Doris had climbed the stairs...something she rarely did, just to wake her up. Kayla rubbed at her eyes with her knuckles and gave a faint but appreciative smile. 

"Morning" She murmured; studying the two long beautiful white braids that fell to an end at Doris's waist. She could tell that at one point in Doris's youth she was gorgeous ; her skin did not have as many wrinkles as it should have had and her lips were a rosy healthy color... her chocolate brown eyes were ageless and glowing. Kayla was positive they had not dimmed with age or haggardness. She had been a happy woman and still was. The old woman rose to her feet slowly and walked towards the chest of drawers.

"I washed all of your clothing and removed the faded blood stain in your white skirt. They're all in the top drawer. I also brought up your backpack and your shoes. It's quite late in the morning you should rise and come down stairs." She smiled mischievously as she walked back to the bed and pinched Kayla's cheek "Put some meat on those sturdy bones."

It occurred to Kayla that she ought to thank Doris, she ought to tell her how no one besides Jeremy had ever done so much for her and those who did, she couldn't remember. But as her mind behooved her to do so, her throat tightened and it was as if every morsel of action in her body flooded to her hazel eyes. She knew undoubtedly that Doris could see the thankfulness in them. She prayed it was enough because speaking didn't seem likely at the moment. Doris captured her limp hand and smiled once more.

"You're welcome, bella. Come eat." She left the room at her elderly pace. 

Kayla rose from the bed, brushed her teeth and washed her face being extremely careful to avoid the bruise on her cheek just below her eye. When she got back into the bed room she opened the top drawer in the chest of drawers and reached for the two small piles of clothing in it. How pathetic, her entire wardrobe consisted of about eight pieces of clothing excluding exactly three pieces of underwear that she- by hand- washed after every shower subsequently. She stuffed the clothing somewhat neatly -for Doris's sake- into her black back pack after removing her black slacks and Sacred Haven dress shirt out of the pile. She got dressed in an unavoidable haze. Jeremy was hiding something from her-whether it was frivolous or key to the mystery of his very disposition was unknown-... but regardless...he was hiding it. A part of her felt like she had no right to feel anyway about his covertness, she was, after all, indebted to him. He had killed Bruce. She closed her eyes and ran her hands over the tight dress shirt...the smooth cotton was ironically calming. Instead of putting her hair in a bun as usual she wet her hands and ran them through the wavy tresses content to leave it to consume her shoulders and hopefully her face and the bruise Bruce had left there. She grabbed the small bottle of brand-less lotion and massaged the cream over her hands and feet. After making the bed she grabbed her back- pack and slipped on her flats. She turned off the lights in the guest room. Not knowing which winding staircase to take she chose the left one whimsically and hoped to run into the kitchen

***

There was a heavy aroma of bacon, eggs and something inexplicably sweet. It was this smell that had led her to Jeremy's large kitchen. She peeked into the room to find Doris hunched over the stove, Sarah sitting at the island peeling apples and a woman -that looked to be only a few years younger than Sarah-she had never seen before, shuffling through the high crown-molded cabinets. She ran her small hands over her shirt and adjusted a strap on her Jansport before making her presence known. As soon as her eyes locked with Sarah's the woman gave a genuinely welcoming smile.

"Good Morning, Kayla" She said

"Good Morning" Kayla replied. She slipped the backpack off of her back and headed for the kitchen sink to wash her hands in hopes of helping the women with preparing breakfast. 

"Serena this is Kayla" Sarah gestured with the apple-carving knife towards Serena and then Kayla. Unlike Maria, Serena seemed pleasant. She gave Kayla an amiable look and offered her hand for a genial shake. 

"Nice to meet you Kayla" She said with a heavy Italian accent.

"Nice to meet you Ms. Serena" Kayla said as she dried her hand and slipped it into the woman's grasp. She studied the deep blue of the woman's eyes and the bright blonde color of her hair. With Kayla's hand still grasped in her own, Serena turned to Sarah and spoke in fast Italian. Sarah replied in the same fashion and the two women shared a laugh. Kayla bit her lip self-consciously as Serena turned her gaze towards her with a brighter glint in her eyes. 

"Do you need help with anything?" Kayla directed the question in no specific direction. Immediately Sarah frowned and Serena was pushing her towards a bar stool repeatedly demanding her to sit. Doris chuckled and continued to work over whatever it was she was working on over the electric stove. She said something in Italian and Sarah shook her head disbelievingly at Kayla.

"You don't need to lift a finger, Kayla. Make yourself at home." She said, with an amused smile on her lips. Serena finally got her to sit down and concurrently handed her a peeled and halved orange. 

"Eat" She implored with both hands. Kayla did what she was told guiltily, she hated feeling like a burden. 

"Jeremy should be back soon." Sarah said softly as she started on another apple. Kayla's eyebrows rose and she stuttered...caught off guard by the statement. 

"Oh-"

"He takes these ridiculously long morning jogs" She continued unaware of the uneasy look that graced Kayla's face. 




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 03



"Oh Okay" Kayla said. 

"You don't seem to say much" Doris turned her back on the stove, appearing to have finished preparing whatever it was that she was preparing. 

Kayla blushed and pulled on one of the curls resting just above the curve of her breast. 

"I-" Doris cut her off before she could defend herself.

"I bet that's why you and Jeremy get along so well. He probably just sits and stares at you as you do the same to him. I can give you his daily word count...that's how talkative he is." Doris chatted freely and Sarah rolled her eyes exasperatingly. Kayla giggled as she admired his beautiful family.

"I talk" She said defensively. Doris gave her a dubious look that had her giggles turning into full blown laughter. It was a refreshing sound that she hadn't heard leave her lips in a very long time, maybe even years. Soon enough Sarah was laughing as well as Doris and Serena. The women hadn't heard the front door open or feel Jeremy's presence when he entered the kitchen. 

Jeremy entered his home to hear raucous laughter flowing from his kitchen; he recognized each voice of laughter as its own except for one. His mother's was high-pitched and extremely distinguished, Doris's was heavy and booming and Serena's was just loud. But the other voice of laughter was thoroughly melodic and true...it could only be Kayla's. He smiled to himself as her laughter rang in his ears; his brain pictured her head back exposing the perfect curvature of her neck...her curls wild and enthralling. He was headed for the kitchen before he even thought to remove his running sneakers. His mother had caught sight of him first.

"Don't you come in here without taking a shower!" She said feigning a seriousness that could certainly find no place in her genuine temperament. He was reaching for her before she had time to flee the embrace.

"No!" She squealed as he wrapped his sinewy arms around her, sweaty tee-shirt and all. Doris swatted him with a mini spatula and he planted a kiss on her cheek as she eyed him. 

"Eggs?" He said in complete disbelief "What happened to my prima colazione?" He said 

Doris elbowed his towering frame and sprinkled seasoning onto the scrambled eggs. 

"I am cooking an American breakfast for Kayla. Go take a shower and fix your own prima colazione." 

Her name had his body and mind freezing up. Out of character...yet unavoidable.

"Good morning, Jeremy" He heard her say. He walked around the island to do something he probably shouldn't have considered doing especially in front of the three most dramatic women in his life. Her black tresses were shining with the small amount of sunlight that peered through the kitchen windows that were built into every wall. Her skin looked radiant despite her latest bruise and her eyes shone relentlessly. Her pinkish lips parted and he suppressed the urge to claim them. A small smile curled his own as he blatantly assessed the bruise on her face before he kissed her cheek softly and bid her a good morning. Her cheeks burned a soft red that made her caramel tone look edible. When her eyes caught his he nearly forgot that his mother, grandmother and Godmother were still in the room. She stared at him with clearer eyes; it seemed as if Bruce's presence had clouded her very being...it seemed as if the abuse might have beaten down a portion of her personality that seemed to now shine through the very light hazel of her eyes. It was unnerving how ridiculously significant she was to him in that moment. Yes, significant. Her image could have suppressed every thought, word, and sound if it had wanted to in that moment. He broke their tangible connection for the sake of saving himself the jibes he would surely receive from the other woman in the room. Immediately she lowered her head to gaze at her twiddling thumbs and for nearly three seconds he had the audacity to envy those small dainty thumbs. 

"And Good Morning to you too Mr. Alessi" Serena chided quietly yet knowingly, he thanked her silently for providing distraction. He kissed her forehead as he always did and grabbed a crescent piece of an apple from Sarah's apple bowl.

"Before I forget," Sarah said quickly "Your father called" Jeremy's eyes grew cold and he rose a dark eyebrow at her. 

"He wants to talk" She explained lamely

"I have a cell phone" He said in resentment

"He wished to speak with me as well." she said slowly, suddenly that much more interested in cutting the peeled apple in her hand. Jeremy's right hand fisted in a reflex reaction but quickly relaxed.

"When are you leaving?" He said knowingly

"After breakfast" She replied tentatively

"Did he apologize?" Jeremy demanded.

"Jeremy, please" Sarah pleaded softly. Kayla watched the two carefully.

"He didn't." Jeremy stated bitterly.

"You have to learn how to forgive" Sarah retorted in a frustrated tone

"There is a difference between forgiving and excusing. He's not coming over here. I'll drop you." 

Before Sarah could respond Jeremy had walked away...gone to take a shower undoubtedly, but certainly in fumes.

"I'm sorry you had to see that" She said to Kayla. Kayla chewed on the piece of orange Serena had offered her.

"It's okay, Mrs. Alessi" She assured the anxious woman sitting across from her. Kayla wasn't exactly sure what had just taken place between Jeremy and his mother but she was sure that his mother did not live with him and he and his father did not have a good relationship. Piece by piece she was going to figure him out...learn his personality like it was the back of her hand...she was going to find out exactly who he was. A silence had fallen over the three woman and she was determined to have them talking once more...their voices were soothing and comforting. 

"Do you guys have the yellow pages?" she asked

"Why do you need it?" Doris shared out four servings of scrambled eggs bacon and stove top waffles. 

"I can get another motel room before I find an apartment" Kayla began. "I can try and get it before I leave for work, that way-"

"Why would you need a motel room if you already have a room?" Doris shook her head and set a plate of breakfast before her. "You don't have to go anywhere." 

"Those motel plaza's aren't safe." Sarah said with a worried tone. Serena nodded in agreement and gave a slight shiver as if she was remembering a bad experience. 

"This is Jeremy's home and I don't think it would be fair for me to intrude." Kayla pointed out as she nibbled on a piece of bacon. 

"Jeremy won't let you stay at a motel. You had better luck trying to convince us." Sarah scoffed good-naturedly.

"I'm sure he will. I was staying at one before." 

"Then why didn't he try to find you another motel?" Serena said teasingly. Doris laughed and Sarah chuckled.

"Well...I wasn't in a good state. Perhaps now that-"

"Tell you what" Doris said as she set up everyone else's plate. She and Serena found a seat around the island as Sarah pushed the plate of cut apples away from her food and into the middle of the island "When he comes down" she smiled wider "ask him." 

"I will" Kayla said through a small stubborn smile. Sarah began to eat and Doris slapped her hand, growling-if she even knew how- something in Italian. Sarah rolled her eyes and Serena sipped her tea. In minutes Jeremy appeared. He was wearing black slacks and a dark red burgundy dress shirt. His grayish silver tie rested around his neck untied. His hair was tousled and still obviously damp from the shower. Kayla could smell the light scent of his cologne and found an otherwise nonexistent knot tighten in her stomach. 

"Sit before I starve" Doris's quick mouth jibed. He sat at the head of the island, staring at Sarah who kept her eyes on her food. He whispered something in Italian softly and although Kayla knew nothing of the language she knew it was an apology of some sort. Sarah shook her head imperceptibly, kissing his cheek lightly and running a hand over his face.

Concurrently they all began to eat. And Kayla noticed that Doris had prepared a special breakfast for Jeremy. He had a simple loaf of herbal bread and a cup of coffee. Kayla thought of bringing up the subject of leaving but quickly and inexplicably lost her nerve. She watched the strong chiseled shape of his jaw move rhythmically as he ate. Shamefully, she yearned for the green of his eyes.

"Jeremy, Kayla has something to discuss with you." Doris said absent-mindedly as she sipped on the tea in her mug and ate a piece of sweet-smelling waffle. An incredulous look spread across Kayla's face unchecked and Serena giggled. Sarah gave her an apologetic look.

"What is it?" He asked, suddenly disinterested in his food. 

"Well I-" She stammered "I was hoping I could find another motel before I have to leave." She swallowed but found no spit to sooth her dry throat. "I don't want to prolong my stay unnecessarily; it would be rude to intrude." She watched his eyes warm. 

"I don't want you in another motel."

"Well it wouldn't be the same one, if you're worried about-"

"No. You should stay until you can find yourself an actual place. I can help you find somewhere." 

"Jeremy, I don't know how long it would take to find somewhere...I don't think that's such a good idea."

"I'm not worried about time, you're safer here." 

"I'm safe regardless" She retorted. He stared at her for a moment, his green eyes displaying no kind of indecision.

"I want you to stay" He said in an absolute tone. "I can find you a place." His eyes roved her body quickly. 

"You have work today?" He asked. She glanced at the vintage clock on the wall behind Sarah and nodded. 

"In thirty minutes" She said, chomping into a waffle. A small smile curved Jeremy's lips...a smile that only Doris caught as he watched Kayla dive into her food. 

"Slow down. I'll give Koen a call." He said in an amused tone.

"Who is that?" She swallowed a piece of her waffle. 

"Koen Linden, your boss."

"Oh, Mr. Linden"

"What did I tell you" Doris said in a smug tone. 

"I'll win next time" Kayla said contentedly. Jeremy gave her a queer look as Doris's gaze found hers at first in surprise and then in mirth. 

"We'll see" She replied, glad that the girl seemed to be opening up. Doris was always one for insight and she knew for a sure fact that a hell of a personality lay just beneath the damaged demeanor of this girl. 

***

"I would like to pay rent" Kayla said. They sat at the island alone. Sarah had gone upstairs to pack up her things and Serena and Doris were in the backyard watering plants. 

Jeremy set down a document he had been reading.

"Kayla" He sighed "That won't be necessary"

"I don't want this to be some type of human relationship of commensalism. You have no reason to keep me here if I can't pay you back, in addition to the fifteen hundred I already owe you."

"You don't owe me anything." He reached for her hands before she could speak once more. He studied them closely feigning a sort of epiphany. He was well aware of what she was good at and what she had done. She played several instruments and was a part of her county orchestra until a year ago. She had also been involved in an art club in high school in addition to the ballerina lessons she had as a child. She was what he would have called an "artsy chick" when he was in college. 

"You play instruments?"

She gasped audibly and snatched her hands back, a look of disbelief and perplexity in her eyes.

"So you do" 

She stared at her hands subconsciously before shoving them into her lap. 

"How did you know that?" She eyed him cautiously.

"I didn't. I simply asked" 

"But why would you even think to ask" Her voice raised a clear octave.

"I dated a girl who played every instrument you could think of...her hands looked like yours."

It wasn't entirely a lie. He had dated an "artsy chick" at Stanford. Her skin wasn't as soft or enticing as Kayla's...if anything it was calloused and her fingers were constantly being bandaged.

"Violin, mostly" she murmured. "But this has nothing to do with me paying rent."

"I have a niece that is moving in with my parents for some time. She's five." As he spoke he reached for her hand once more and she allowed him to capture it. His fingers traced the soft lines of her palm. 

"I would like you to give her lessons when you're not working. An hour or so, each time you have one. Teach her how to play the violin" He said almost admiringly. 

"Jeremy that's crazy. I'm no good anymore. I haven't played in nearly a year."

"I bet you're wrong."

"I bet I'm not" 

"This would be your rent"

"That's not rent. I would do it for free regardless."

"Do you know how much violin lessons cost?" He asked with a smirk.

"They are probably extremely expensive because you would be paying someone with tons of experience to teach her."

"How long have you been playing for?"

"That's irrelevant" 

"Tell me"

She bit her lip in hesitation and sighed. 

"Since I was five" she admitted "It's the only thing I can remember...how to play instruments and draw."

"What do you mean it's the only thing you can remember?" Jeremy's green eyes sought hers desperately. She turned away, feeling an old ache return to pierce her chest. Her breathing became erratic and she closed her eyes.

"Kayla" He whispered. She pushed herself farther away from his prying eyes. She felt his finger tips at her cheek and shuddered involuntarily wishing she had the capability to cringe away from him. 

"Don't shut me out" He said softly. 

"I'm not ready to talk about it" She had finally admitted that to herself...the fact that she might never be able to speak of the day that had so drastically changed her life yet remained impenetrable to her memory.

"Okay" He said, turning her face to his. He peered into her eyes with a look of determination and deep interest. He placed both hands on her face, cradling it. 

"Okay" He repeated...assuring her of his understanding. 

"You don't have to ever hide your face from me" He said. "Just promise to tell me what's going on in your head"

"Or let me see your eyes...they'll tell me" He smiled and she smiled back. Tentatively she placed her hand against his. 

"I don't want to be your burden Jeremy. What if the cops come looking for you? I shouldn't be here...I just know it. As if you haven't sacrificed enough" her voice broke "I don't want them to take you away from Sarah and Doris and Serena." She didn't want them to take him away from her. "I couldn't have that guilt on my conscious. I'm not worth life in prison, Jeremy. Let me go and find somewhere else to stay, I'll keep in touch I promise. I just-"

"Look at me" He commanded in his strong virile voice, his deep tone filling the room. "They won't come after me or you. You are safe here. Do you understand me?"

"What if-"

"Kayla" He declared, slightly shaking her "No one is coming. No one is going to punish you. You are safe, do you understand me?" His green eyes worked some kind of magic in her chest. She stared back with no inhibition knowing her translucent hazel eyes would tell him everything. 

"Yes" She whispered, drinking in his eyes as if he held her lifeline...her air. 

"You trust me?" He said softly. His thumbs caressed the sensitive skin of her face, careful to avoid the bruise that stood no chance at marring her beauty.

"I do" She exhaled. He rested his head against hers, they're eyes locked. Her heart beat slowed down to a rate of pure serenity. And she breathed in his intoxicating scent greedily. 

One would think it foolish to believe what he had just told her; stupid and disgustingly optimistic. But as his scent drowned her and his skin warmed hers she knew that she wouldn't be able to dissuade herself from believing him. For the first time in her life she was willing to trust someone wholeheartedly...she was willing to believe the impossible. 

***

Jeremy drove into Dalton Heights and turned onto Creek Drive heading straight for the home he had grown up in. 

"Christy will be here tomorrow" Sarah said with a joy in her voice that could not be mistaken. 

"I know" Jeremy sighed. He turned the steering wheel of his sleek BMW-his favorite out of the five cars he owned. Minutes later they drove unto Paul's driveway. Surprisingly he stood outside of his mansion, smoking a Cuban beside Ray and Marco. Jeremy muttered something in Italian and Sarah smacked his arm. Kayla giggled and Jeremy sent her a smile through the rear view. When Kayla got a look at Jeremy's father's home her breath literally couldn't find its way past her lips. It was three stories high and took up a substantial amount of space landscape wise. The front of the house was covered in at least five white Roman columns and the gloriously large and clear windows framed with what looked like a forest green Grecian molding. She gasped. And Sarah spoke.

"We don't need all of that space. Paul has always been ostentatious." She said. When they parked Jeremy got out, opening the door for his mother and retrieving her bag from the back. Kayla contemplated whether she should get out and almost immediately Sarah enthusiastically motioned for her to come out. Kayla took a deep breath and exited the car and instantaneously knew it wasn't what Jeremy wanted. If he had wanted her to get out he would've opened the door for her. But she was already out and she would look utterly stupid if she slipped back inside. Sarah slunk her arm around Kayla's and walked over to where the three men stood. The one in the middle had to be Jeremy's father...he was the man from Jeremy's family portrait...and looked maybe a year or two older, although she was sure he was now around twenty years older. He wore a tailored gray suit with a pastel pink dress shirt and tie. His dark brown hair was slicked back and his face newly shaven. He certainly didn't look twenty years older. Jeremy handed Sarah's Louis Vuitton to the man on his father's right. 

"Salve" she murmured to Paul. Immediately a lazy smile claimed his lips and he slunk his arms around her waist, planting a meaningful kiss on her lips. Kayla turned away slightly on instinct and Jeremy seethed visibly. Sarah blushed and pushed away.

"Ciao Gianni" Paul said good-naturedly but Jeremy remained silent his eyes boring holes into his father. Kayla found it extremely weird. Had he called Jeremy Gianni?

Sarah cleared her throat. 

"Paul this is Kayla" She smiled and rubbed Kayla's arm. The name sparked a sharp recognition in Paul's expression and his face lit up incredulously at first and then deceivingly settled into a look of pleasantness. 

She offered her hand and he took it gently before kissing the back of it slowly, his eyes lingering on hers. Kayla smiled uncomfortably. Suddenly she felt a large warm hand enclose her free one, it was Jeremy. He tugged her off...away from the house and his father and towards the car.

"Jeremy!" Kayla yelped "That was extremely rude." His face was stoic. She turned to gaze at the scene they had left behind to see his mother with her face in her hands and Paul glaring daggers into the back of Jeremy's head. 

***

"Why don't you like him?" Kayla finally asked him. They had sat in silence for nearly ten minutes as he drove her to work. She had contemplated asking him just exactly who Dracula was again, but decided to broach the subject at a later and more fitting time.

"What?" he looked like she had shaken him out of deep thought.

"Your father. Why don't you like him?" She inquired.

"It isn't dislike, its indifference" He lied...as he had lied to many others.

"Indifference would not have moved you to literally drag me away from him." She said boldly

His eyes were on her before the last word had left her mouth.

"You don't know him. You can't trust his mouth. He would've said something stupid" He muttered. Kayla decided to leave it be. 




Whispers of Redemption Pt. 03



"He called you Gianni" She murmured.

"That's my first name...the name he gave me. My middle name is Jeremy, the name my mother gave me"

"Gianni" Kayla said slowly, testing the name on her lips. She liked it. It was authentic.

"I don't use it."

"Because he gave it to you." she said without question. The car came to a slow stop at a red light and he took that chance to glance at her.

"I suppose so" He said quietly, his eyes carefully guarded; a talent Kayla envied

***

"When is your shift over?" He put the car in park as she unbuckled her seat belt. 

"Twelve" She replied. "I can take the bus if you-"

"I'll be here. Wait inside, I'll send the valet for you."

"Why inside?"

"You didn't bring a jacket with you. It'll be colder tonight." 

She gazed down at her clothing. 

"Okay" She said "Thanks again" 

"No Problem."

November 13th 2000

5:00 pm 

Sacred Haven: Employees Room

"Total bitch" Mark shook his head. Mark tousled his blonde hair with his hand and smiled at Kayla. She had just started working at Sacred Haven and she was by far the calmest and most interesting person there. She didn't talk much but it made her words so much more profound when she did. He didn't know how he did it but he had convinced her to have lunch with him; although they both got their lunch break around the same time and most of the employees came to this room to have lunch, she was sitting with him. That was something at least. She had this subtle but completely magnetic beauty about her. He liked the way her smiles were always small and genuine and how when she really did smile everyone would stop to look. He liked the way her hair seemed to engulf her...like torrent black beach waves. He liked the light hazel if not gray color of her eyes and the integrity in everything she said. She had come to work with a bruise on her face and he had expected Koen to say something to her, maybe pull her aside...but he never did. The sight of her bruise made him want to hurt someone, not because he wanted to be heroic or possessive but just because he couldn't imagine anyone wanting even worse seeking to hurt her. He knew she was self-conscious of it because she made sure her hair was covering most of it at all times possible. Mark knew she knew he was staring at her but couldn't bring himself to look away.

"So she threw the wine on your uniform?" Kayla laughed

"Yeah, I guess I was rude. But I knew they were fake...I had to say something, you know?"

"No I don't know." she giggled "If she has fake boobs then she has fake boobs, you can't go around telling people that they might get breast cancer because of it. It's rude. I'm surprised you still have your job." 

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... truth is the truth." He bit into his turkey sandwich.

"Kayla?"

"Yeah"

"How'd you get that bruise on your cheek?"

Kayla touched the sensitive spot with her finger tips and bit her lip. He instantly regretted the prying question. It seemed as if she was in an abusive relationship. The first time she had showed up she had several bruises on her face and neck that even her make-up couldn't hide; that wasn't exactly normal. He felt anger swell in him as he thought of a man hitting her. She was so kind and quiet...so beautiful. He thought of the man in the fancy BMW that drove her here. A guy with that kind of money probably had no respect for anyone. What was she doing with him?

"Was it that guy?" He whispered "The one that drove you here? You can tell me, Kayla" 

A look of bewilderment crossed her face before her eyes flashed with understanding.

"Jeremy?" She choked, dismissing even the thought of what it would be like for him to hit her. He would never do that. "No! He would never do anything like that." She defended him with a vengeance so clear and tangible you could reach out and touch it.

"So what's the deal?" He pressed further, unwilling to let it go despite his better judgment. 

"There is no deal." She said angrily as she grabbed up her lunch and started for the swinging doors. Mark's hand stopped her. 

"I'm sorry" He stuttered quickly "I didn't mean to pry...it's just I wanted to know. And if you don't want to talk about it, I respect that." He said restlessly "Just don't leave me here alone with a turkey sandwich" A look of self-pity crossed his face and Kayla was surprised at how fast her anger dissipated. She tucked errant curls behind her ears and returned to her seat. 

"You forgive me?" Mark lowered his head to peek under the blanket of her midnight black hair with a look of chagrin on his face.

"Yeah" She murmured with a smile.

"I don't know if that's what I want though" He leaned back in his chair playfully "You're pretty hot when you're mad" He finished whilst popping a few grapes into his mouth. Her soft chuckles lit up the small room. He wanted to kiss her so bad. He settled for a promise. He reached out his hand.

"Friends, Ms. Warner?" 

"Friends, Mr. Robinson." She shook his hand firmly. 

A few minutes later all signs of awkwardness had faded. 

"Man, I mean, I know my mom wanted me to go somewhere like Harvard or Princeton. But you know what? State University is just as good. I get to stay here with all my friends and make money and shit. It's perfect."

"Options are a gift from the Gods" Kayla said 

"Sure as hell right about that. What about you? What college you attending?" He rested his chin on his knuckles and his elbow on the lunch table. 

"Um..." a slightly red hue crept into her cheeks despite her caramel tone. "I haven't applied yet."

Mark was quick to ease her discomfort.

"Cool, cool. I have a shitload of friends that are taking a break too." he assuaged.

"Yeah" she barely whispered "breaks are good."

"I could picture you at Harvard, playing the violin in a music theory class surrounded by other prodigies." He said enthusiastically. She was shaking her head half way through his sentence.

"I should've never told you I played." She sighed exasperatingly. 

"That hurt" He feigned pain. 

"I bet you're a beast" He laughed.

"Well I could probably scare you away with a violin in hand." She jibed. He laughed loudly

"You don't know how funny you are." Mark took a gulp of his water.

"You're pretty funny too." She stuck her tongue out at him. Suddenly the laughter drained from his face and a serious look graced his visage...a look of admiration entered his eyes.

"You're so beautiful" He said almost absent-mindedly as she watched his eyes take in her entire face. Immediately she fidgeted uncomfortably.

"I just had to tell you. I'm not trying to hook up or anything...I just wanted you to know." He smiled shyly

Kayla stared into Mark's light brown almost golden eyes and found herself smiling back. She liked Mark; he was funny and genuinely sweet. She wasn't interested in a relationship...that much was quite evident and permanent; but she didn't find herself wanting to shy away or run. 

"You're not too shabby yourself" She found herself saying. The bright smile that lit up his face had her grinning foolishly back. He popped the collar of his Sacred Haven Dress shirt as a smug but completely out-of-character look crossed his face.

"I know" He drawled flipping his blonde shaggy hair for a greater effect; he looked so boyish. She laughed. 

***

"Who is that girl? How old is she?" Paul sneered. Sarah sighed tiredly as she brushed her hair. 

"She's a friend of his; she's eighteen." She said truthfully. "And I'll have you know she's extremely nice." 

"Do I care whether she is nice or not Sarah?" Paul growled. "That boy is a fucking screw up, he hasn't called or spoken to Angela since the restaurant opening and while the Pelosi's sit and wait patiently for him to address them he goes out and finds himself a fucking black damsel in distress." Paul fumed as he paced the length of their master bedroom in his suit...looking like a force to be reckoned with.

Sarah swerved around in a flash of uncontrollable anger. Paul was always the bigot towards anything non-Italian. 

"What does her race have to do with anything?" Sarah retorted

"She's not Italian. And she doesn't belong to any of the 'families'. Do you think I'm stupid? A fucking twenty-four year old with an eighteen year old girl for a 'friend'...a 'friend' Sarah? He's fucking her. And I won't have it. She gets pregnant and not only does the Moretti family and all the other damn rats running around have leverage but he is stuck with her forever. This Pelosi marriage is a done deal."

"Doesn't belong to a family? Did I belong to a family, Paul?" 

"That's different" He grumbled. She knew what he meant when he emphasized different...they were in love and he was determined; the perfect components for commitment regardless of the obstacles.

"It's not different...if he's in love with her he should have the freedom to pursue a relationship" Sarah knew this wasn't the case at least she had not picked up on any signs of intimacy. He was ironically nurturing around Kayla and that said a lot about the extent of the two's strange relationship...rapport. But she had brought up love for the sake of defending her argument. 

"Oh please, Sarah. That girl is nothing more than a tool of rebellion for him to torture me with."

"You're delusional. Not every damn thing is about you, Paul! You can't see anything past this supposed business. You can't see your son's happiness, or how-how calm this girl makes him...you can't see that you hurt everyone around you. You can't see that everyone that loves you enough to die for you won't be around for very long if you keep this up. I love Angela, but if she is not what my son wants I am inclined and willing to respect that." Sarah said morosely. She tried to push past his hovering body and he grabbed her arm.

"Supposed business?" He growled "What the fuck do you think keeps you alive, Sarah?"

"What do you think put me in danger in the first place?" She spat back at him

"You put yourself in danger when you chose me."

"Yes, Paul I did. Because I love you. Can't you see that? I love you" She nearly cried. His eyes softened as did his grip. But his jaw never unclenched. This was his way of saying he loved her too. 

"Sarah I am responsible for this family" He said calmly "You can't turn back once you're in the family and I need you to understand that. I was born into this and was expected to play my role for the very same reason that Gianni must play his. To protect his family. We let go now and they'll go after our daughters first then your aunts and uncles and Doris and my uncles and father. And if I'm not dead by then they'll come for you and they'll come for me. Then they'll come for Jeremy...to strip this family of everything we have...just because they can. And I guarantee that your token son...your son that could do no harm and have no faults would kill every last soul if it meant protecting his family; if it meant protecting you. 

Sarah closed her eyes as tears streamed down her suddenly haggard face. 

"He's not as innocent as you think he is." Paul whispered as he wiped the tears from his wife's face and waited for startled baby blues to assail him.

"What?" She whispered, her tear-filled voice breaking. Paul knew how it would break her spirit if he told her what he had found out only this morning but he also knew how important it was that she made herself realize Gianni's fate.

"One of my men informed me that Gianni killed that girl's godfather." He said. Sarah scowled at him and roughly pulled her arm out of his grasp.

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" she growled despite the cry of her voice.

"Sam informed me, Sarah" He sighed. Sarah had known Sam from the day he was born; He was only five years older than Jeremy and extremely close to the family. She felt her throat tighten to the point where it became physically impossible to breathe. A cry left her lips before she could picture her son murdering another man. She covered her mouth with both hands as Paul enveloped her in his strong arms. Despite her hands a louder cry left her lips only seconds later as more tears gathered in her burning eyes. 

"You're lying!" She screamed angrily, her hoarse voice echoing throughout the spacious room. Paul tightened his arm around her as she fought him in vain. The deep sobs that wracked her body shook him to the core and slowly but surely he began to resent his decision. He loved his wife. He might be a sad excuse for a man and a recovering alcoholic and that may have rendered him incapable of expressing that love...but he loved his wife. 

"Sshh" He whispered lovingly into her ear. He fell unto the bed with her writhing in his lap. She called their son's name over and over again until her voice began to fade.

"No" She wailed softly. "Not Jeremy" She rocked back and forth mournfully. Paul buried his face in her soft neck knowing his body would eventually absorb everything she didn't want to feel. He would be her husband for a few more moments...he would forget that he had a family to save for a few more hours. 

"Don't cry, Sarah" He whispered pathetically...aware of his inability to comfort his wife. Years ago her tears would've dried immediately and she would've buried her face in his chest for ideal comfort. Things were different now because he had become worthless. He hadn't hit her in years but he had changed things that night he had decided to drink.

*** 

November 13th 2000

6:30 pm 

Loans and Investments: (Jeremy's workplace)

"What's up?" Jeremy shuffled around his desk for a file he would need in another thirty minutes for a meeting.

"Thought I'd stop by with some lunch" Rocco smiled his signature smile as he plopped a Tupperware dish on Jeremy's desk filled with Rita's famous lasagna. 

"You're kidding me?" Jeremy reached for the bowl as if his life depended on it. 

"She was quite happy today...got her to make the good stuff." 

Jeremy laughed knowing that Rocco had gotten laid. 

"Married life doesn't seem so bad" Jeremy joked as he pulled silverware out of his desk drawer and dug into the meal.

"Fuck no."

"No Pun intended?" Jeremy chuckled. Rocco's eyes narrowed.

"Keep your sick thoughts to yourself" 

"This shit is so good." Jeremy groaned.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah" Rocco lifted the picture frame off of Jeremy's desk that held a picture of him and his youngest sister.

"Her daughter's coming here soon huh?" 

"Yeah...she and Bobby are having problems." 

"What kind of problems?" Rocco frowned

"Financial" Jeremy replied.

"How often do you send money?" Rocco asked already knowing Jeremy sent money...he loved Pricilla like his own life. 

"Every week...four grand" He said between large bites. 

"She sends it back." Rocco chuckled remembering her personality with an unhealthy clarity. Thirteen years ago he had been infatuated with the girl. 

"You know her" Jeremy said dryly.

"What's Bobby doing?" 

"Something in the movie business. Bastard is delusional" Jeremy grumbled.

"Wasn't he an entrepreneur last year?" Rocco laughed as he ran a hand through his hair.

"Aspiring; Pricilla won't leave him. You know she's pregnant again." 

"Number two better be a boy. Man, he'd be everything I'm not." Rocco smiled.

"Stop trying to live your dreams through my sister's kid. You have one on the way big guy." 

"True." Rocco's expression sobered as he pondered just exactly how he was going to explain his newest notion to Jeremy.

"I'm thinking about going legit." Rocco whispered. Jeremy wiped his mouth with a napkin as his eyebrow rose.

"What the fuck did Rita do to you?" Jeremy teased, only to see Rocco's eyes harden. So this was because of Rita.

"Hit me" Jeremy urged him to continue

"She was crying last night...well this morning. I can't put her through this. I have a feeling every time I leave she wonders whether I'm coming back... I can't have that. Two days ago I found a tracker in her car and..."

"What?" Jeremy bellowed. "Why didn't you tell me?" 

"Because you're not in this Jeremy. I don't want to drag you into this anymore then you already are." 

"Fuck that, Rocco! A fucking tracker?" Jeremy ran his hands through his hair in disbelief. "You brought it to Ray?"

"He said it was a Moretti bug...recognized the spy ware." 

"Moretti?" Jeremy was taken aback.

"We're at war. Why the hell do you think Paul would ever consider ushering Angela into the Alessi family? He needs the Pelosi family. Moretti kisses Pelosi's ass the right way and we're outnumbered." Rocco admitted. Rocco would have never spoken about all this with Jeremy before...it was Rita's tears that had him sitting here admitting the Alessi family's possible demise. He was careful to never bring it up around Jeremy because not only was Jeremy his best friend but he had a part-a key role- in all of it. If he was to marry Angela or better yet join the administration he could secure the Alessi family's safety...he could single handedly secure the fading of the Moretti administration. It was the living heart in Rocco that had kept him from telling Jeremy all of this...knowing what actual love felt like, the last thing he would ever suggest was a business transaction marriage. He knew if he ever even expressed interest in the idea Jeremy would carry it out...do what he had to do for the sake of the administration and his family...knowing that he could trust Rocco's word that such actions would be necessary.

"How long have you known me?" Jeremy asked calmly.

"Too damn long."

"And you know that you going legit won't stop or fix anything." Jeremy said shrewdly "You're here because you want me to know that marrying Angela will save Rita." He said quietly.

"You break things down like a true cynic." Rocco breathed

Jeremy leaned back in his chair with an enigmatic look in his eyes. 

"I won't let anything happen to Rita" his voice was borderline soundless

"You sound as if I can't protect her." 

"There's only so much you can do." He retorted. "What is it that Frankie Moretti wants?" 

"Paul killed his son five years ago. You remember when they had to send Sarah away for months...when Ray got shot in the leg and Marco's wife was killed."

"Tony" Jeremy sighed, remembering the name of the twenty-one year old Paul had killed in the name of revenge. 

"It's gotten bigger than that...Frankie wants the Alessi fortune along with our contacts. He's been sending threats through letters and a messenger...Paul has kept it from Sarah." 

"To the house? And you kept it from me?" 

"I found out about the threats the same day I found the tracker and brought it to Ray." Rocco lowered his head in deep thought "He had three guys hold me down. Marco refused to hold me down...the night his wife died he killed ten of Frankie's men." He shook his head with a bitter laugh. "I had an AK in the back of my car; I was headed straight for Frankie's place. Make a martyr of myself." He shook his head remembering the irrationality running through his veins and blurring his vision...the fear of losing his wife. 

"Shit, Rocco" Jeremy ran his hand over his face. Rocco had a flash point temper when it came to issues dealing with Rita's safety...he had a flash point temper to begin with but everything was much worse when Rita entered the picture.

"Fuck it. You marry that bitch Angela and I'll guarantee we'll still have a shitload of problems. She's not in this for alliance; she's in it for money. She'll divorce you before you're over the threshold and rob you for everything you've got...and after that to hell with any type of Pelosi alliance." 

"You're subconsciously suggesting I enter the administration."

"I won't deny that" Rocco cleared his throat "You join and fuck going legit; we'll finish this. I understand you wanted out...I understand you never wanted in, but you stand still and the whole world will fuck you over." Rocco said. Jeremy nodded his head in agreement; he took a deep breath as he stared at his sister squeeze the life out of him in one of the last pictures they took together before she moved.