Atonement: An Interracial Romance (Possession Duet Book 2) Read online

  Atonement

  Possession Duet #2

  T.K. Leigh

  ATONEMENT

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental or, if an actual place, are used fictitiously. The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

  The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not sponsored, associated, or endorsed by the trademark owner.

  Published by Carpe Per Diem, Inc. / Tracy Kellam, 25852 McBean Parkway # 806, Santa Clarita, CA 91355

  Edited by: Kim Young, Kim’s Editing Services

  Image Permission:

  People Images Copyright 2021

  Used under license from iStock

  Copyright © 2021 T. K. Leigh / Tracy Kellam

  All rights reserved.

  Contents

  Books by T.K. Leigh

  Atonement

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Temptation

  Playlist

  Free Book!

  Connect with Me

  The Other Side of Someday

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Books by T.K. Leigh

  CONTEMPORARY ROMANCE

  The Dating Games Series

  Dating Games

  Wicked Games

  Mind Games

  Dangerous Games

  Royal Games

  Tangled Games

  The Redemption Series

  Commitment (Redemption Duet #1)

  Redemption (Redemption Duet #2)

  Possession (Possession Duet #1)

  Atonement (Possession Duet #2)

  ROMANTIC COMEDY

  The Book Boyfriend Chronicles

  The Other Side of Someday

  Writing Mr. Right

  ROMANTIC SUSPENSE

  The Vault

  Inferno: Part 1

  Inferno: Part 2

  Inferno: Part 3

  Inferno: Part 4

  The Beautiful Mess Series

  A Beautiful Mess

  A Tragic Wreck

  Gorgeous Chaos

  The Deception Duet

  (A Beautiful Mess Series Spinoff Duet)

  Chasing the Dragon

  Slaying The Dragon

  Beautiful Mess Series Standalones

  Vanished

  Heart of Marley

  Heart of Light

  For more information on any of these titles and upcoming releases, please visit T.K.’s website:

  www.tkleighauthor.com

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  Atonement

  Londyn Bennett entered my world like a hurricane. One I was grossly unprepared for. But in the short time we’ve known each other, she’s opened my eyes to things I never expected. She taught me about acceptance. Compassion. Love.

  Because of her, I’ve also been forced to learn about prejudice. Cruelty. Hate.

  We may come from two different worlds, but the second we met, our hearts beat as one, nothing able to sever our connection.

  Or so I thought.

  When the bubble we’ve been living in bursts, will our love be strong enough to weather the gale-force winds threatening to upend everything? Or is hatred too powerful to overcome?

  A wise person once told me that the right path isn’t always the easy one.

  I just never realized the right path could be so treacherous.

  To everyone who’s ever said #MeToo.

  Chapter One

  Londyn

  At least once a year, my father would preach the parable of the Naked Truth and the Lie. I’d normally zone out at having to listen to the same tale yet again. But this one always fascinated me. A legend about how easy it can be to believe a lie as long as it’s cloaked in authenticity and masked in righteousness.

  Even though it’s been years since I’ve spoken to him, I can still hear his deep baritone sermonizing to his church, his voice filling the small space.

  “One day, the Truth and the Lie meet on a road,” he would say as he gripped the lectern, his suit pristine, a cross pinned to his lapel. “The Lie comments to the Truth that it’s a marvelous day. While the Truth is suspicious of the Lie, she looks at the sky and sees that it is indeed a beautiful day. So the two walk together for a while until they come to a pool of water.

  “Without testing it, the Lie tells the Truth the water is nice, then suggests they go for a swim. The Truth is suspicious of the Lie once more, but after sticking her toe into the water, discovers it is as the Lie says. The two undress and bathe in the pool.

  “Suddenly, the Lie jumps out, dons the Truth’s clothes, and runs off to a nearby village. The Truth is furious, of course. So she leaps out and runs after the Lie. But when she reaches the village, the townspeople are horrified at the sight of the Naked Truth. They look away with contempt and outrage.

  “At first, the Truth is confused about their reaction. Then she looks down and realizes she’s naked, allowing the world to see all her secrets, regardless of how raw and honest they are. Ashamed, she disappears, hiding her disgrace for all eternity, while the Lie, clothed as the Truth, travels the world.”

  While I’ve always been drawn to this allegory, I’ve never truly appreciated the meaning behind it.

  Until now.

  Now I know what it feels like to beg for help only to have people stare at you with horror and resentment.

  I know what it feels like for no one to believe you because of your appearance.

  I know what it’s like to be sent away in shame.

  But unlike the Naked Truth, I won’t disappear. Not this time. I’ll make sure people have no choice but to face the Truth head on, see the Lie for who he truly is.

  Even if I die trying.

  Chapter Two

  Londyn

  Everything is still, like I’m in a vacuum, frozen in this moment, this turning point in my existence. There’s no going back to the life I once knew. Not anymore.

  The gunshot echoes in the bakery, the sound lingering, drowning o
ut everything. Birds don’t chirp. Children don’t laugh. Music doesn’t play. There is no happiness in this new reality. Only the cold, hard truth.

  But what truth is that?

  I hold my breath, waiting for the pain from the bullet to consume me. There’s no question in my mind. Jay — Nick — ended up the victor in our battle. That seems to be the story of my life — getting so close to having it all, then losing everything I’ve worked so hard for.

  But to my surprise, the pain never comes. Instead, an anguished cry reverberates against the walls. But it’s not mine. It’s deep, guttural.

  Destructive.

  A weight crushes me to the floor, wetness soaking through my dress. Nick’s body blankets mine. Blood seeps from his shoulder, his face scrunched up in pain. If it were anyone else, I’d offer words of comfort. Tell him everything will be okay. That I’ll call for help.

  But after everything I’ve been through because of him, after everything I’ve lost because of him, after all the sleepless nights I’ve suffered because of him, I offer the same compassion he did the night he took everything from me.

  Absolutely none.

  Shoving him off me, I kick at his shoulder, which elicits a tormented wail. It’s vindictive, but I want him to hurt. Want him to suffer. Want him to cry out for help and for no one to come.

  Just like I did for years.

  I scoot as far away from him as I can, my body trembling from the aftermath of the attack. My heart races faster than I’ve ever felt before, causing an ache in my chest. What would have happened if I hadn’t taken Hazel’s advice to learn how to protect myself? Would history have repeated itself? I shudder to think of suffering through that yet again. I barely survived the first time. I doubt I’d be able to do it twice.

  But will I be able to survive this?

  His distressed moans gradually transition into more of a cackle as he manages to roll onto his side, a hand covering his wounded shoulder, blood seeping through his fingers, the red stark against the cream hue of his sweater.

  “You shot me.” His voice is breathy and amused, everything about him assured and confident, despite the blood pooling around him, staining the floor. “It’s a strange twist, if you ask me.” His sinister, blue eyes meet mine, causing bile to rise in my throat. I swallow it down.

  “What’s that?” I rest my hand on the tile beside me, trying to ward off the lightheaded sensation as the adrenaline slowly leaves my body.

  “You shooting me.”

  “What choice did I have?”

  “That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about Medusa being the victor against the final battle with Perseus when he shows up to behead her. Like I said…” He strains to breathe. “Certainly an interesting twist.”

  “Why? Because you think it’s acceptable for men, for society to keep victimizing Medusa when she never did anything wrong? When all she wanted was to be left alone?”

  “Is that what you want, Londyn? To be left alone? To be forgotten?” He falls onto his back, his breathing becoming increasingly labored as more blood flows out of his wound. His skin grows paler with each passing moment as he seems to fight losing consciousness.

  “Yes,” I answer through the tightness in my throat. “That’s all I want. To be left alone. To forget I ever met you.”

  “Oh, come now… You don’t mean that. You needed me, my fierce Medusa.”

  “You’re delusional. Life isn’t like the Greek myths you obsess over.”

  “You see, that’s where you’re wrong.” A sly smile tugs on his lips as sirens break through the stillness. My pulse accelerating, I dart my eyes to the door, then to the gun still in my hand.

  The sirens could be heading somewhere else, but I know better than to think I’ll walk away from this with no repercussions. This area of the city is notoriously upscale. I have no doubt someone enjoying their New Year’s brunch at the posh restaurant next door probably heard the shot and called the police. Dread settles deep in my stomach at what will happen when they arrive and see a black woman holding a gun, a white man bleeding on the floor.

  I quickly drop the gun, kicking it away.

  “You can deny it all you want,” he continues, his voice becoming more strained, stomach rising and falling with his increasingly labored breathing. “Playing the victim fits the narrative you need, doesn’t it? That’s been your identity all your life. At least since your mother died. After that, you weren’t Londyn. You were simply that poor girl who lost her mother in a horrific church shooting.”

  He narrows his threatening eyes on me. “I made you into the woman you were always meant to be. You may not see it now, but eventually you will.” He draws in a shaky breath. “Then you’ll finally thank me,” he struggles to finish as his eyelids flutter closed, head falling back onto the floor, muscles seeming to give out as unconsciousness takes over.

  I stare at him for several moments, debating whether to go over and check his pulse. But then I notice the subtle rise and fall of his chest. I shouldn’t feel relief from that. I should want him dead.

  But I’d rather him suffer the rest of his life than be able to take the easy way out. He deserves to be held responsible for everything he’s done to me. Then maybe I can finally breathe again. Something I haven’t been able to do in years.

  The blare of nearing sirens snaps me back to the reality of my current situation, the fact that I’m sitting in a room with an unconscious white man who’s been shot. Who I shot.

  I frantically glance around the kitchen of the bakery, unsure what my next move should be. It’s not like I can just leave. That would only make matters worse. But someone should know what happened. Someone who will understand why I did what I did. As much as I want to believe that person is Wes, he’s never been in my shoes. Never been a woman whose life was threatened.

  Spying my purse nearby, I grab it and reach inside, retrieving my phone. After tapping on Hazel’s contact, I listen to it ring as a strange silence fills the space, the sirens replaced by the distant sound of feet pounding pavement and orders being shouted.

  “Come on, Haze,” I mutter, nervously glancing at the door, fearing I don’t have much time.

  Just when I expect her voicemail to pick up, her bright voice greets me instead. “What are you doing calling me when you should be having hot New Year’s sex with Wes? And please tell me you two got kinky with those masks.”

  I don’t say anything, swallowing back my emotions at everything that’s happened the past twenty-four hours. I’d been excited about the start of a new year, hopeful this was the year I finally took back control. That I’d no longer have to live with the ghosts of my past.

  I never could have anticipated not only seeing the one man I hoped to never cross paths with again, but also learning he’s married to Wes’ sister.

  “Lo?” Hazel says when I remain silent. “You okay?”

  I look up at the ceiling, shaking my head as I choke out a sob. “No, Hazel. I’m not okay.” A dam bursts as all the emotions I’ve kept inside since seeing Nick last night rush forward.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?” she asks frantically. “Was last night too much?”

  I wipe at my cheeks, trying to calm my cries, the sound of running feet getting louder.

  “I shot him.”

  “Who? Wes? What are you talking about? You’re not making any sense. Why—”

  “Jay. I shot Jay.”

  The line falls silent as Hazel processes this. “Jay? How—”

  “He was there last night.” I squeeze my eyes shut as memories of the gala play before me like a wicked pantomime. How powerful and free I felt, only for it to be shattered in one cruel twist of fate. “He attacked me. He tried to…”

  My stomach roils as the familiar scent of citrus and leather surrounds me, burning my nostrils. He’s several feet away, but that stench is permanently ingrained in my senses, smothering me, making it difficult to breathe. When I first met him, I loved the smell of his cologne. N
ow every time I walk by a man who wears it, it makes me want to vomit.

  Makes me want to curl up into a ball and disappear.

  “It’s okay. It’ll be okay,” Hazel assures me, but her words aren’t as certain as I wish they were, especially when I hear pounding on the rear service door, followed by an authoritative voice announcing it’s the Atlanta Police.

  “Tell Wes I’m sorry,” I whisper, guilt rushing through me over the lies I fed him today.

  Maybe if I’d been honest, if I’d told Wes who his brother-in-law was, I wouldn’t be in this situation. But after everything I endured all those years ago, after everyone who I thought would support me tossed me aside, I swore to never depend on anyone else to fight my battles for me. This was one I needed to fight myself.

  One I now fear I’m not meant to win.

  “What do you mean? What’s going on?” Hazel asks as the door bursts open. Nearly a dozen cops swarm through, weapons raised and pointed at me.