Redeeming 6: Boys of Tommen #4
Redeeming 6: Part 7 – Chapter 83

AOIFE

I HAD PROBLEMS.

Many of them.

My biggest, aside from impending motherhood and my boyfriend’s drug dependency, was my inability to back the hell down from a fight.

Many would label my ability to love unwaveringly a positive personality trait, but when it led me back to the lion’s den, I knew it was a reckless fucking habit. Still, I parked my car outside the shitty, graffiti-ridden house and climbed out, poised for battle.

Gripping my car keys in one fist for protection, I stalked up to the house and hammered on the door with the other. When the door opened inwards, and Shane’s grotesque fucking face greeted me, I felt the fire of a thousand volcanos build up inside of me.

“Back for round two?”

“Before you start, I know he’s been here with you. So, I want his phone, his wallet, and everything else you stole from him,” I stated coldly, looking him dead in his eyes. “Fight with me on this, and I will rain hell down on you.”

His lips tipped upwards. “Is that so?”

“Try me, asshole.” I folded my arms across my chest. “I dare you.”

Looking more amused than annoyed with me tonight, Shane shook his head and chuckled. “You want your boyfriend’s shit? Come in and replace it yourself. I’m not his housekeeper.”

My heart sank, but I schooled my features and stepped around the drugged-up gangster.

“You know the room he stays in,” Shane called over his shoulder, as he disappeared into the sitting room, sounding thoroughly amused by my boyfriend’s downfall. “Have at it, princess.”

Swallowing down my fury, I moved for the staircase, not stopping until I was standing outside the door of the room that I found him in last year.

Deep breaths.

You can do this.

Pushing the door inwards, I held my breath and stepped inside.

Repressing the urge to shudder when my eyes landed on the blood-stained mattress that I knew Joe had slept on, I stepped over several discarded syringes and random pieces of tinfoil, feeling myself die a little more with every step I took. Filthy didn’t come close to describing the decrepit conditions of this room, and knowing this was where he came to for sanctuary sickened me.

Careful not to touch anything for fear of disease or infection, because who the fuck knew who else stayed in this hellhole, I reached for a familiar discarded hoodie.

Joey’s hoodie.

I’d bought it for him last year.

Trembling violently, I reached into the front pocket and sagged in relief when my fingers brushed over both his phone and wallet. Silently pocketing both, I bundled his hoodie under my arm and took another quick glance around the carnage before heading back downstairs.

“You can tell your boyfriend that he owes me money,” Shane called out from the sitting room when I was half-way down the staircase. “He has a week to come up with the cash or he can work it off for me.”

Unable to contain my emotions a second longer, I thundered down the staircase and stormed into the sitting room.

“Stay the fuck away from him, Shane,” I snarled, not caring about the four other men lounging around on couches in the shit hole he called his home. “I mean it, asshole. Keep your filthy fucking habits away from my boyfriend!”

“My filthy habits?” he laughed from his perch on the couch. “Don’t you mean Lynchy’s filthy habits?”

“People like you make me sick,” I hissed, glaring down at him. “Sinking your claws in vulnerable people. You’re disgusting!”

“Words,” he chuckled, mocking me with hand movements. “Get the fuck out of here, princess, and tell lover boy that I’ve a job lined up for him.” His gaze trailed over my body and when he reached my middle, his brows shot up. “Or should I call him baby-daddy?”

“You’re not having him,” I seethed, standing my ground. “I won’t let you take him from us.”

“He’s already gone, kid,” another man said. “Clear off before he takes you down with him.”

I couldn’t.

That was the problem.

I couldn’t leave him.

“How much does he owe you?” I heard myself ask, keeping my eyes glued to Shane. “Joey. What does he owe?”

“Six hundred,” he mused, arching a brow. “You got that kind of cash on you, princess?”

No, I didn’t.

I didn’t make that kind of money in a month at work.

My parents were barely breaking even, so they didn’t have cash to spare.

Neither had any of my friends.

Fuck.

Smiling knowingly, Shane inclined his head to the door. “Don’t worry. I have plenty of work for him.”

“He’s not dealing for you.”

“You get a say in this, princess.”

“I don’t need one,” I shot back, shaking. “I know Joey. He will never deal.”

“Then he’ll pay with his arms,” one of the men joked.

“And his legs,” laughed another.

Panic-stricken, I racked my brain for a solution to the mess my boyfriend had gotten himself into. “I can get you the money.”

“Now you’re speaking my language.”

“But that’s it,” I warned. “I get the money, and you leave him alone.”

The men around me all laughed again like it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard.

“I’m not fucking joking,” I snapped. “I’ll pay what he owes, but you have to back off, do you hear me?”

“You get me what he owes, and we’ll talk,” Shane replied, eyes dancing with amusement.

I knew I was being played.

I knew these men had no intention of following my wishes, but what could I do? Walk away knowing what they had planned for my boyfriend?

Never.

Trembling when I reached my car, I sank into the driver’s seat and locked all the doors, while I waited for my recently acquired pal to pick up.

“You rang, Mrs. Joey the hurler?”

“Gibsie?” Pressing the heel of my hand to my forehead, I exhaled a ragged breath. “I need a favor.”

A little while later, a silver Ford Focus parked up behind my car. With bated breath, I watched from the rearview mirror as Gibsie climbed out of his car and walked to the passenger side of mine.

“I know I have no right to ask you for anything,” I blurted out the minute he climbed into the passenger seat beside me. “We barely know each other, and you’re probably thinking that I’m some sort of crazy person for showing up on your doorstep earlier, and for phoning you, but I’m so damn desperate and he’s—”

“You said six hundred?” Gibsie cut me off by asking, as he retrieved a wad of cash from his coat pocket and placed it on my lap. “It’s all there.”

“Thank you.” Shoulders slumping in both guilt and relief, I nodded wearily. “Seriously, thank you so damn much, Gibsie. I know it was a lot to ask of you, and I promise you that I will pay you back every cent. It might take me a while, but I will get it all back to you with interest—”

“Relax, I don’t care about the money,” he cut me off and said, turning in his seat to face me. “It’s yours. No strings attached.”

“No, I can’t,” I hurried to protest. “I’ll pay you back, I swear.”

“You can try, but I won’t take it,” he replied calmly. “The fact that you needed it badly enough to come to me in the first place is the scary part.” He stared at me for a long moment before saying, “Lynchy’s in deep, isn’t he?”

I debated lying to him, but how the hell could I?

Whether he realized it or not, this boy had unintentionally spared my boyfriend another hospitalization.

Or worse, an early grave.

“So deep, Gibs,” I squeezed out, heart racing wildly. “And I’m trying…” I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I’m trying so hard to save him, but it’s just getting harder and harder.”

“How bad are we talking?”

“It’s heroin,” I choked out, quickly batting a rogue tear from my cheek. “And oxy, and coke, and pretty much anything he can snort up his nose or inject in his veins.”

“And the money?”

“For his dealer,” I admitted, pressing my temples. “If I don’t pay up, he’ll make Joe work it off or worse.”

Gibsie blew out a harsh breath. “Shit.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, demoralized and weary. “He’s also really unwell. Like, physically unwell. Everyone is looking at Shannon and I get it, I do, but what about Joe?” Shaking my head, I bit back a sob. “He could have died in the kitchen that day, too.”

“I didn’t know that,” Gibsie replied quietly.

“Because his entire family treats him like an afterthought,” I choked out. “And no, I don’t mean Shan and the little ones. I mean his mother and his brother and his…” Breaking off before I had a nervous breakdown, I sucked in several calming breaths before trying again. “I just need him to be okay, Gibs. I just… I need that boy.”

“Because you’ve got a bun in the oven?”

“What?” I stilled, frowning. “How did you—”

“Don’t worry, I can keep secrets, too,” he surprised me by saying. “Word of advice, though. I would start doubling up on those oversized hoodies if you don’t want people catching on, because, and I mean this in the kindest of ways, you’re blooming.”

“Oh fuck.”

“I’m guessing Shannon doesn’t know?” he mused. “Which means Johnny doesn’t know, because if Johnny knew, I would know.”

“No, and you can’t tell them yet because—”

“Like I said, I can keep a secret,” he offered with a wink. “I’ve got your back, Mrs. Joey the hurler.”