Every Sin We Erase (Redeeming Love Book 8) Read online

  Every Sin We Erase

  A Redeeming Love Novel (#8)

  J.E. Parker

  Beta Read by Christina Youngren

  Edited by Sara Miller

  Cover Design by Letitia Hasser

  Copyright © 2020 by J.E. Parker. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by the copyright law.

  Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.

  Contents

  Warning

  A Note From the Author

  Prologue

  1. James

  2. Carmen

  3. James

  4. James

  5. Carmen

  6. James

  7. Carmen

  8. James

  9. James

  10. Carmen

  11. James

  12. Carmen

  13. James

  14. Carmen

  15. Carmen

  16. Carmen

  17. James

  18. Carmen

  19. James

  20. Carmen

  21. James

  22. James

  23. Carmen

  24. James

  25. Carmen

  26. James

  27. Carmen

  28. Carmen

  29. James

  30. James

  31. Carmen

  32. James

  33. Carmen

  34. Carmen

  35. Carmen

  36. James

  37. Carmen

  Also by J.E. Parker

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  About the Author

  Warning

  This novel contains scenes and/or situations that may be triggering for some readers. For specific questions about content, please message the author directly.

  [email protected]

  A Note From the Author

  Every Sin We Erase is book one in James’s and Carmen’s two-part story.

  It is NOT a standalone.

  Book 2, Every Wound We Mend, is scheduled for release on July 16th.

  Available for preorder now.

  Dedication

  For Emily.

  I love you.

  I miss you.

  I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.

  Please forgive me.

  Prologue

  Carmen

  Medellin, Colombia

  The day I turned eighteen, they came for me.

  It was a Friday, half-past midnight, and the scorching summer sun had dipped below the horizon just hours before, blanketing the streets in darkness.

  Even so, the city still buzzed with life.

  Like always, the incessant hum of passing traffic bled through my bedroom window as drivers navigated the narrow streets surrounding the small apartment I shared with Mamá and Alejandro, my twelve-year-old brother.

  Knowing I should’ve been in bed hours before, I told myself that I hadn’t found sleep yet because of the constant noise that swirled around the room, echoing off the water-stained plaster walls.

  But it was a mentira… a lie.

  Eyes locked on the streaked mirror that hung on the back of my bedroom door, I stared at the girl who peered back at me, her tear-filled eyes a beacon for my unwavering gaze, leaving neither the time nor desire for rest.

  No dream can compare, I told myself.

  Not to this.

  Still wearing the same pageant gown I’d worn earlier in the day, a silver crown rested atop my waterfall curled hair, while a sash hung over my bare shoulder and taffeta-covered chest, the black letters sewn to its silky front a stark contrast to my light pink dress.

  Miss Colombia, they read.

  A mixture of both happiness and disbelief bloomed in my belly as I repeatedly read the words, my chest rising and falling.

  Just like Mamá had done at my age, I’d been crowned a beauty queen. And I’d done it on my birthday, gifting myself the one present I’d spent most of my life praying to receive.

  But not for the reason most would think.

  Unlike many of the other girls I’d competed against earlier in the day, the glitz and glamour that came with the title I now possessed meant nothing to me. I wasn’t vain, and I cared very little about being hailed as the most beautiful woman in the country.

  It was the prizes I’d won in addition to the crown that mattered to me. All of which included a four-year academic scholarship, modeling contracts, and more pesos than Mamá earned in a year.

  Each was an essential piece of the puzzle to my family escaping a city the cartel was destroying in waves, leaving nothing but the detritus of shattered lives in their wake.

  It was a truth I’d learned the hard way years before when a local narco kidnapped my papá, a lifelong policeman, and tortured him to death after he refused to become a puppet for the cartel.

  Like Mamá, he’d been stubborn and proud.

  And with his life, he paid for being both.

  After his death, Mamá had been thrust headfirst into a situation she wasn’t prepared to handle. Possessing no career skills and unable to secure employment, life had forced her to provide for Alejandro and me by using the only weapon she had.

  Her beauty.

  A lady of the night, I saw the burning shame that flooded her tired eyes each morning she stumbled through the front door, her makeup smeared and golden-brown hair in disarray after spending hours walking the unforgiving streets.

  “Don’t be like me, mi precioso,” she would always say, chin trembling. “Never allow someone to attach a price to something priceless. Especially not your body or p-pride.” Her voice always faltered on the last word, proving just how far she’d fallen since Papá’s unjust death. Spirit fractured, every ounce of dignity she’d ever had was long gone.

  It broke my heart to see.

  But I intended to fix it.

  As soon as I finished university and received my nursing degree, I planned to take Mamá and Alejandro far away from Medellin and out of Colombia altogether. It might’ve taken me several years to accomplish such a grande goal, but I swore that one day I would stand on the sandy white beaches of Florida as the Atlantic washed over my feet and ankles, warming the coldness that seeped from the marrow of my chilled bones.

  To my right would be Mamá.

  And to my left would be Alejandro.

  Finally safe, we’d become whole again.

  Or so I thought.

  I don’t know how long I’d been standing in front of the mirror, my head in the clouds, when a loud crashing sound echoed through the apartment as someone kicked in the flimsy backdoor, busting the weathered wood free of the rusted hinges.

  Heart lurching high into my throat, I jumped in place as Alejandro jerked upright in bed, his sleepy brown eyes swimming with confusion. “Carmen,” he mumbled, tossing back the threadbare cover that blanketed his thin legs. “What was—”

  He fell silent, lips becoming sealed as heavy footsteps pounded through the tiny living room, then the kitchen.

  Vomit climbed my esophagus as the realization that whoever had burst into our home, the place that acted as our refuge from the hell that existed on the streets of Medellin, was headed straight for us.

  Terrified, I met my brother’s wide-eyed gaze.

  “Move, hermanito!” I lunged for the window mere feet away and slammed my palm in
to it, snapping the small hook holding the glass panes closed in half. “Get outside now!”

  Alejandro moved quickly.

  Jumping off the bed, he skittered out the window, ripping his plaid pajama bottoms on a sliver of cracked wood.

  Bare feet hitting the Colombian dirt with a soft thud, he turned and grasped my dress, gripping it tight. “Vámonos!” he yelled, jerking me toward him with more force than his rail-thin frame should’ve allowed. “They’re coming!”

  Nodding, I placed my shaking hands on the open frame, but before I could climb through, my bedroom door burst open, and a lone man entered.

  I stared at him, pulse galloping.

  Why is he here?

  What does he want?

  Will he hurt us?

  All three questions raced through my head, and with one good look at him, I hurriedly figured out the answer to each one.

  Dressed in black, a red bandana hid most of his features. The only thing I could make out were his eyes, and the mere sight of them sent a chill rushing down my sweat-covered spine. Dark and menacing, they were as terrifying as the black pistol clutched in his right hand.

  “Princesa,” he said through the fabric, head cocked to the side. “You need to come with me.” He pulled his bandana down, giving me a glimpse of his filthy face. Cheeks marred with what looked like knife scars, he appeared even more terrifying unveiled. “You’re a very pretty girl,” he continued. “Even more stunning than we were told. Carlos will be pleased.”

  At the mention of Carlos, my heart stopped.

  And suddenly, everything clicked into place.

  Carlos Melendez, the man I correctly assumed he spoke of, was well known in Medellin. A cartel-connected narco, he was responsible for the disappearance of more than one woman. Everyone on our side of the city knew it too, including Mamá, who’d forbid me from going anywhere alone, especially after dark had descended.

  But right then, her rules mattered little.

  Over the years, she and Papá had both done their best to protect Alejandro and me, but at that very second, I knew their efforts had been futile because no matter how hard they’d tried to keep us safe from the streets, the streets had found their way into our home.

  And now I must save us.

  Latching on to every ounce of bravery I possessed, I prepared myself to run. “I’m not going anywhere with you, pendejo.” To my surprise, my voice didn’t shake as I fired off each word, a sneer contorting my beautiful face. “So go fuck yourself!”

  Teeth gritted, the pissed-off man lunged for me.

  But I was too fast.

  Filled with fear from toes to scalp, I jumped out of the apartment before he could touch me, knocking my coveted crown to the dirt.

  An angry roar echoed through the open window as I picked it back up and grabbed Alejandro’s hand. Adrenaline surging, I took off running, dragging my brother, a little boy I loved more than anyone else in the world, alongside me.

  “Run, hermanito!” I screamed. “Faster!”

  More terrified than I’d ever been, I wanted to stop and ask more than one person we passed while fleeing to safety for help, but I didn’t dare. The cartel had more than half the city in their pockets; it was impossible to know who we could trust.

  Even going to the police was out of the question. With the way things worked in Medellin, there was a chance we’d fall straight into the hands of one of Carlos’s puppets, who would then deliver me straight to him.

  And that couldn’t happen.

  Bolting down one alley and darting up another, we stuck to the shadows, doing our best to hide. The sounds of footsteps didn’t follow ours, so I prayed we were no longer being pursued.

  Sweat dripping from my brow, we darted through a desolate industrial area and onto a dimly lit mid-city street. How far we’d run or where we were, I didn’t have a clue. I should’ve been paying more attention, si, but the only thing that had gone through my rattled brain was finding safety, whether it be in a farm field outside the city or an abandoned building downtown.

  “Carmen!”

  Alejandro and I came to an almost sliding stop when our mother’s terrified shout reached my ears. Releasing his hand, I spun around, my heart nearing the point of seizing.

  “Mamá!” I yelled as she ran toward us, her silver stilettos clicking against the cracked concrete sidewalk with each of her frantic steps. “Help us!” Moving as fast as she could, her lithe arms pumped wildly.

  Relief flooded through me at the sight.

  But that same relief died seconds later when the roar of multiple engines, followed by the sound of screeching tires reverberated off the dark buildings surrounding me.

  Alejandro screamed as three Suburbans, all of them black with tinted windows, came to screeching stops around us, blocking Mamá from our view. With a wall to our backs and the idling vehicles to our right, left, and front, we were caged in.

  Completely trapped.

  Grabbing Alejandro by the shoulders, I tucked him behind me, shielding his body with my own as one of the vehicle doors opened, followed by others, and men, close to a dozen of them, spilled out onto the desolate city street.

  I recognized one of them right away.

  “Princesa,” the scarred face intruder from before said, a malicious smile tipping his pale, chapped lips. “You shouldn’t have run from me.” Moving around the closest SUV, he came to a stop less than twelve feet away.

  Alejandro’s fingers dug into my back, his fear pouring off of him in waves, but I remained silent, refusing to cry out as my heart so desired I do.

  Instead, I stood tall.

  Defiant in the face of danger.

  “You shouldn’t have chased me then,” I spat. “Just as you shouldn’t have broken into my home, a place you had no right to be.”

  The man’s lip twitched. “You’re feisty. Carlos will enjoy it very much.”

  Anger nipped the back of my neck at such a disgusting response. “Si, just as I’m sure he enjoys you being an estúpido hijo de puta.”

  One of the other men whistled at my filthy words, while the rest laughed. The scarred faced man, however, looked ready to snap my neck with his bare hands.

  Snarling, he ripped the same gun I’d witnessed him holding back at the apartment from his waistband and charged me, murderous rage written on his features.

  “Fucking little—”

  A primal scream, one that only a mother protecting her offspring could make, ripped through the night air, drowning out whatever vile insult the man was about to spew all over me, as Mamá, who was petite in stature but hot-tempered in nature, slammed her small body into the pendejo, knocking him to the concrete.

  On impact, the gun flew from his hand and slid across the sidewalk.

  Moving fast, she picked it up before he could recover it. She then pointed the barrel at his face, her hands shaking the slightest bit.

  The man stood and took a small step back, his body tight with barely contained rage. Nodding toward the gun, he dusted gravel and dirt from the side of his black cargo pants. “What are you planning to do with that, puta?”

  Positioning her trembling body between the men and Alejandro and me, she steadied her aim, ready to fire.

  “Eight years ago, Carlos Melendez took my husband,” she said, stealing my breath. I’d known it was a narco who’d stolen Papá away, but I hadn’t known it was Carlos. Learning he was responsible made me want to vomit. “He will not take my daughter too!”

  Various chuckles floated through the night air.

  The scarred man’s included.

  “Eleven men are standing before you,” he retorted, his voice deceptively calm. “There are seven rounds in the gun you hold in your hand. Even if you make every bullet count, do the math, perra.” His cruel smile slid back into place. “One way or another, I’m taking the princesa as she no longer belongs to you.”

  The man’s words were Mamá’s undoing.

  A second scream escaped her throat as she squ
eezed the trigger. Gripping my crown tight in one hand and Alejandro’s hip in the other, I clamped my eyes shut, waiting for the gun to discharge.

  But nothing happened.

  Only silence, followed by cackling laughter resounded through the humid night air.

  My eyes popped open, and I saw the scarred man rush forward, his evil gaze locked on Mamá. Panicked, I screamed for the first time that night and wrapped my arms around her trim waist, hugging her back to my front. “Mamá, shoot him!”

  If she wouldn’t do it, then I would.

  To protect my family, I’d do anything.

  Before she could pull back on the trigger again, the gun was ripped from her hands. “Stupid fucking puta!” the man yelled, his large body looming over each of ours. “Next time, check the safety!”

  Mamá became further unhinged.

  Nothing less than enraged, she ripped herself free of my hold and once more slammed her body into him. He stumbled backward but didn’t lose his footing.

  With an audible grunt, he grasped her upper arms and held her tight while laughing at her untrained and manic attempts to free herself.

  “Mamá!” Alejandro cried. “Stop!”

  “Yeah, Mamá,” the man said, mimicking my little brother. “Stop.” Twisting her around, he pulled her back into his torso, locking his powerful arms around her.