The Art of Redemption Read Online Free PDF Page A

twinge of jealousy. She would never know what it felt like to be loved by a parent or to grow up in a happy household. All of her memories were of nothing but pain and misery. Although her mother had always been kind to her, Isabel barely remembered her and the memories she did have weren’t very pleasant ones. She stared at her knotted hands and tried to concentrate on the sound of Alex’s voice, instead of the loss of her mother and childhood. There was no point in dwelling on it. All that ugliness was in the past and things could only get better for her. They just had to.
    ***
    Dylan
    Five months of training to be a Dom and Dylan was only now beginning to feel in his element. Work was keeping him busy, but the stress of the job was ever present. The Dark Asylum and the bevy of women who were eager to pleasure him were a welcome diversion. It wouldn’t be long until he would be assisting in training submissives and he looked forward to the day when Kerian would allow him to do so. He was still earning the club members’ respect, but he valued their opinions. Not having been part of a family in so long, he was struggling to accept their open arms without feeling overwhelmed with guilt over what had happened to his parents.
    As his thoughts drifted to the hideousness of what he had caused, the cargo plane he was riding on shuddered from turbulence, breaking his entrancement. This was only his second actual field assignment and the unwelcome feeling of tension buzzed through his veins. Clutching at the seatbelt over his chest, he caught the gaze of the man in charge of the mission, Sawyer Morrison. His reputation of being a hard-ass, cold-blooded killer preceded him and Dylan watched as the man’s dark eyes appraised him and a muscle in his jaw twitched.
    He was warned not to piss off the legendary mercenary Sawyer Morrison, but Dylan stared at him defiantly anyway, not letting onto his unease. When he continued to stare unflinchingly at him, Sawyer tilted his head to one side and gave him a wry, barely noticeable smirk.
    “You’re a cocky little shit, aren’t you?” his deep voice carried over the noisy jet engine.
    Dylan narrowed his eyes in response. “You got a fuckin’ problem with me?”
    “No, just your agency,” he countered casually and without emotion. “But I’m not the one making the ultimate decisions so it looks like we’re stuck with each other. I hope you’re as smart as everyone says you are. If not, it’s our asses on the line.”
    Dylan gritted his teeth and looked away. It had always been about that. His smarts as the NSA called them. Or that big fucking brain of his, as his dad used to call it. It was the reason his agency had hired him in the first place. He had pleaded for years to be allowed to move from behind the desk to field work, and now here he was, getting the same shit from the CIA that he had been getting for years from his coworkers at the NSA. What did he expect being the youngest of his peers? What the fuck ever.
    “I hope that training of yours is still fresh in your mind, Young. Young. How appropriate.”
    Morrison was relentless and Dylan glared at him once again. It always came down to his age, and, yes, probably his attitude, too, but it was all he had. What was he supposed to do? Back down and let people walk all over him? Allow them to see the fearfulness of being found out about everything that had gone down with his parents? To hell with that. If they didn’t like who he was or his attitude, they could go fuck themselves.
    “Listen, Old Man, my training isn’t in question here. If the agency didn’t think I could get the job done, then I wouldn’t be here.”
    “Who are you calling Old Man?” Morrison’s eyes widened in mock astonishment. “I’m not even thirty yet.”
    “Oh, yeah? You could’ ve fooled me,” he shot back.
    “Yeah, you’re a cocky little asshole, all right. We’ll see how big your balls are when the bullets start flying, Baby Blue