Ransom's Redemption Read online

  RANSOM’S

  REDEMPTION

  Rhavensfyre

  RANSOM’S REDEMPTION

  Copyright © 2016 by Rhavensfyre

  This is a work of fiction-names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  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 the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  To all of our wonderful readers, of course,

  and to our hard-working Beta Readers;

  Marion, Myra, Dava, Gail and Tammy.

  Thank you for all you do.

  Chapter One

  For what seemed like the seventh time that night, Ransom Greathouse asked herself what she was doing hanging out at a dive bar. “Wasting my time away,” she muttered under her breath. Her muttering caught the attention of the bartender who headed her way with a lazy smile that seemed to offer more than just a fresh drink. A curt shake of her head dismissed the woman before something embarrassing happened, and Ransom went back to slowly stripping the label off her lukewarm beer and pretending she was enjoying herself.

  The smoky bar didn't hold any interest to her, so why was she still there? The answer came easier than she liked, mostly because it was so damn cliché it was painful. She was there because that was what single sailors and soldiers did prior to deployment. They went out to a bar, got drunk, and if they were lucky, picked up a willing partner to spend their last few hours in the States with. Her buddies back at the unit wanted her to go out with them but she had begged out…not wanting to explain that she wasn't really interested in ogling young men in tight jeans at the local cowboy bar.

  Instead, she had headed across town to a little bar she had heard about, one better suited to her taste for the ladies and holding a very small likelihood anyone she knew would find her. Despite the fall of don't ask/don't tell, Ransom still wasn’t comfortable with the idea of coming out, not with some of the uptight assholes that were still in charge of her reserve unit, and certainly not now while she was trying to transition from enlisted to officer. It was bad timing, being reactivated now. She had just finished her Bachelor’s and was waiting for her package to go through, but there was no way she would hear a thing until they were well into their deployment.

  Disgusted, Ransom forgot herself and took a sip of warm beer that was flatter than plain water and tasted twice as bad. “Screw it,” she said, pushing the bottle away from her. It really wasn’t any of their business what she did when she was off duty.

  Ransom got tired of staring at her reflection in the mirror and turned around, hooking her elbows on the edge of the bar and leaning back against the hard, round edge. The bar was starting to fill up, with a few women running solo like herself, but there were more couples hiding in the corners or clinging to the few tables surrounding the dimly lit dance floor. Her gaze kept falling on the couples, on the way they touched, the secret smiles lost to subtle kisses and somewhat less subtle caresses no amount of shadows could hide.

  “Jesus.” She was feeling the lack of companionship more deeply than usual tonight and her melancholy mood was proving hard to shake. She was here all alone, hanging out in a dark corner and nursing a beer she wasn't really interested in, looking at the same old tired Friday night crowd that populated every gay bar in every city that was big enough to have one. Shaking her head at the morose observation, Ransom asked herself if it wouldn’t be better to just go home and spend her weekend in quiet solitude before they headed out at the requisite oh-dark-thirty on Monday morning.

  She had just peeled herself away from the bar when a slim, slightly older woman walked in, timing her entry with the jingle of Ransom’s keys. She was well dressed and had a look about her that told Ransom she had never been in a place like this before. In other words, fresh meat for the local trolls who immediately honed in on the dark haired beauty. The air practically crackled with interest as several heads turned to watch the woman wander farther into the dark interior, shadowed forms stiffening up and standing straighter, reminding Ransom of her father’s hounds. Dogs going on point at the scent of something worth chasing.

  Ransom changed her mind about leaving. Stuffing her keys back into her jeans pocket, she found herself a small table within view of the unknown woman and settled in to observe. The woman was obviously upset. Unsure of herself in that unique way that people who are uncomfortable with themselves are…a combination of fear and determination that signaled a change happening in their lives. A change that made them realize their skin no longer fit them properly, and they needed to find a way to shed it.

  A barmaid cleared the half-empty glasses and empty beer bottles from her table and asked her what she’d like to drink. She couldn’t justify sitting at a table without something in front of her so she ordered a cognac and dropped a twenty on her tray.

  Ransom took a sip of the hard liquor and grimaced at the unexpected burn. She had forgotten to specify top shelf. Still, the motion gave her the opportunity to continue observing the other woman without being obvious. Ransom wasn't a slave to high fashion, but she wasn't ignorant of it either. Her mother was quite fond of designer things, just like her father was fond of good cognac. Interesting how much of your parents you bring into adulthood with you, she thought, then smirked…and how much you leave behind. Daddy didn’t approve of her choice to join the military, and Mommy hated that she was never going to see her only child produce all those grandbabies she always wanted. Ransom took a bigger sip of her drink, using the hollow burn growing in her gut to exorcise those memories and return her attention to the woman who had changed her mind about leaving.

  She oozed with a level of sophistication that only served to highlight how alien her presence was in the seedy bar. It wasn’t just her clothes and shoes, it was the elegant way she held her neck and the curve of her spine. Supple, yet hinting at a core of iron that told Ransom the woman was politely used to getting her way. The business chic designer outfit stood out in a sea of denim and flannel like a bit of precious gold pulled from a miner’s pan, it drew your eye straight to her. Everything else, everyone else might as well have been dull bits of dirt and grit floating in river muck.

  Ransom sucked in her breath, caught by the graceful movements of slender fingers when the woman accepted her drink with a tip of her head, as if she was a queen accepting homage from her subjects. She pulled it off well. That haughty exterior had kept some of the less aggressive patrons from approaching her directly, but Ransom wasn't fooled. She could tell by the small, barely noticeable tremor in her hands and the stiff set to her shoulders that the other woman was scared to death and not willing to give in to her fears. Ransom pinched her lower lip between her fingers, considering what that meant. She looked down at the woman’s hands. She was too far away to determine if the telltale indent from a wedding ring marked her bare ring finger or not. Ransom flipped her gaze back up at the woman’s face.

  So, it was one of two things then, experimenting or discovering.

  Discovering, Ransom decided, finding none of the false bravado of the casual experimenter. She knew the type too well, straight women who convince themselves that it wasn't cheating if it was with another woman, then use alcohol as an excuse for their bad behavior. In the morning, they would return to their mundane lives with a promise to never drink like that again. Regret could be wa
shed away with a morning chaser and perhaps a trip to the gym to sweat away the desire. A phone call or follow up would be met with dreaded silence and stuttered excuses that only made you feel like a heel and wonder if it wouldn’t be better to just become celibate. Ransom made it a rule to avoid those types like the plague.

  No, this one wasn't experimenting, but she was using alcohol to find some kind of liquid courage.

  Ransom frowned. Despite the short amount of time, the woman had already consumed an impressive amount of alcohol, courtesy of a few of the butchier women who didn’t bother hiding their intent. Ransom found her sense of chivalry rising, offended by the obvious predatory nature of some of the women sending those drinks…indelicate souls who trolled the bars for one-night stands, falling into the macho image of the “player” that she abhorred in men or women. When one particularly obnoxious barfly clumped over to the other woman with all the finesse of a bull in a china shop and took the seat across from her without asking, Ransom held her breath. She waited for the woman to give her a glaring send off, but she was too far gone into her liquor by then and the other woman obviously knew it.

  Ransom was surprised at the level of outrage that sparked red and hot in her blood when the newcomer attempted to wrap her arm around the inebriated woman and leaned in close, whispering something in her ear that made her blush. The idea of the crass, vulgar barfly taking such an elegant woman home with her for the simple base need of a quick fuck felt so wrong, she couldn’t wait any longer. Launching herself from her chair, she walked up to the bar with quick, sure strides and ordered another cognac, then grabbed the bartender’s hand before her twenty disappeared.

  “Make sure its top shelf this time.” The bartender froze for a second, then nodded before heading for the good stuff. “And give me a water with ice,” Ransom added, smiling just enough to take the sting out of her order.

  Winding her way through the crowd to the dark haired woman's table, she had to suppress a low growl as the slab-sided butch leaned in and tried to kiss the intoxicated woman. Slapping the two glasses down on the small table with a solid thunk, she was rewarded with a beady eyed glare meant to scare her away, much like a vulture hovering over its prey. Well, Ransom wasn't too keen on vultures, so she just stared back, letting her eyes grow cold and hard as stone. It was a look that anyone in her unit knew meant trouble, usually for them, and she had reduced more than one overly large attitude to apologetic compliance with just a look and a word.

  “Excuse me,” Ransom spoke softly. Her smooth, clear voice could be heard easily above the clattering din of the music playing in the background, “But I believe you are inappropriately handling my date.”

  The denim and leather clad woman stood, proving herself taller and heavier than Ransom once she reached her full height. Ransom almost laughed at her attempt to loom. Sure she was bigger, but Ransom had a feeling a good chunk of that height difference was the heavy biker boots. Ransom ran slimmer, but due to genetics and a lot of training, she was more the sinewy sort that camouflaged her strength, a fact the other woman might soon find out if she continued her puffed up attitude.

  “Is that so?” she asked, her gravelly voice carrying the foul odor of cheap whiskey and even cheaper cigarettes on her breath. Ransom scowled at the combination. There was never an excuse to drink cheap whiskey unless your sole intent was to get pissed…and smell bad to everyone else around you.

  “It is,” Ransom answered easily. Her disarming smile should have set off alarms in the other woman's head, but Ransom figured it would have to get through the sheer density of the other woman’s skull first. Then, she would realize that Ransom, although smaller and lighter, was standing in front of her without a lick of fear in her eyes, her body calm and relaxed…waiting. It was the loose limbed posture of a true hunter, not the pale imitation of bravado that was standing before her.

  Ransom had learned a long time ago that how you presented yourself went a long way towards garnering respect from her fellow sailors. If her body and eyes told them she could kick their ass if she chose, then they would believe it. It simplified things greatly, and it didn't hurt that she actually had the training to do what she promised, even if she chose not to. The tableau between them was unusual in its lack of motion, drawing the attention of the other bar patrons. Ransom could feel a collective breath being held, waiting to exhale in anticipation of a fight. The moment passed, and the tension in the room dissipated instantly when the other woman lowered her eyes, acquiescing the win to Ransom before walking away with a huff. Ransom didn't even care that she acted like it was her idea, the pale haired woman staring at her with an amusing "what the hell just happened" look was safe from a pitiful night of grunting and rough handling.

  Ransom sat down and slid the ice water over to the other woman.

  “Here, drink this. You need to hydrate.”

  “What is it?”

  “Just water,” Ransom said, reaching over and moving her drink off to the side. The last thing she needed was more alcohol.

  She took the water and sipped it, then her body took over. Within seconds she had consumed the entire glass. “Thank you.”

  Up close, the woman was even more gorgeous. Even in the dim lighting she could tell that her skin was ivory smooth, begging for her caress. Ransom found herself staring at the soft hair floating around her head like a halo, chocolate brown with red gold highlights that gathered the light and made the smoky room feel like a purposeful backdrop. Dark, almost obsidian, eyes glittered back at her. Sharp, intelligent eyes that, despite shining a little too brightly, held an air of sorrow only time and experience could bring about. That was what she truly found fascinating. The woman seemed so damned interesting, it made her want to know more about her. Why she was here tonight, what made her want to drown her sorrows in bad whisky and worse company, all the questions she would gladly spend hours finding answers to. She raised her glass in salute to the woman sitting across from her and drank in honor to her beauty. Then she introduced herself.

  ***

  Ransom startled awake and almost fell off the couch. She scrubbed her scalp through wildly tangled hair and stretched, taking a moment to reorient herself. She ran her tongue over her teeth and licked her lips, trying to remove the thick layer of fuzz that seemed stuck to the roof of her mouth.

  The sound of someone moaning in pain reached her, reminding her of the reason she was sleeping on the couch. Someone else was occupying her bed. Rolling off the couch and gaining vertical status presented itself with its own challenges, she hadn’t gotten much sleep last night and her body was complaining about giving up her bed.

  “Still better than a cot,” she mumbled, rolling her neck until it popped, then stumbled into the kitchen to start up the coffee maker. Another moan brought her attention back to her guest. She would need coffee, too, and Ransom realized she hadn’t a clue how she liked it. Tylenol wouldn’t hurt either, she thought, and detoured for the bathroom.

  Before heading back to her hijacked bedroom, Ransom ran some water over the worst of her bedhead and brushed her teeth. No need to scare the poor woman first thing in the morning.

  “Good morning, Sunshine,” Ransom announced, grinning at the woman curled up beneath the cover’s. “I brought you coffee, I hope black is okay.”

  That statement brought her visitor up out of the covers, eyes brightening at the mention of caffeine. Shaking the bottle of Tylenol resulted in a free hand shooting out from under the blankets to accept the offered capsules.

  “Thank you,” she murmured, sitting up enough to take the pills with a swallow of coffee.

  “You’re very welcome.” Ransom sat down on the edge of the bed. “I didn’t know how you liked your coffee.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. She rubbed her temples for a moment before opening her eyes again. “Um, I…you?”

  “Ah, yes.” Ransom cleared her throat. She knew that look. “How much of last night do you remember?”

/>   “Not much,” the other woman admitted, then looked down at the tangled bed sheets around her, “Did we?”

  Ransom shook her head. “No. You were very drunk. I tried to get you home, but you refused and insisted on accompanying me. I put you to bed, and I camped out on the couch.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “You weren’t safe there. I didn’t think you wanted to wake up finding out you did something you’d regret.” Ransom was not the type to take advantage of a woman too drunk to know what she was doing. “I’m Ransom, by the way.”

  “Victoria.”

  “I know,” Ransom smirked.

  Victoria blushed, pink crawling up her neck and tinting pale cheekbones a lovely rose color. Ransom looked away and coughed. She hadn’t meant to embarrass her, not like that. “I’m sorry. That was mean.”

  “No, I deserve that. I drank way more than I ought to have last night.” Victoria took another sip of her coffee, her expression turning thoughtful. “Ransom? That’s an odd name.”

  Not what I was expecting, Ransom thought. “Yeah, my dad was a big fan of old spaghetti westerns. He had his heart set on a boy, and I guess he wasn’t willing to give up the name when I showed up instead.”

  “I think it’s a great name. It suits you.”

  “Thank you. I uh, suspect you’ll want to be getting home soon?” She was surprised at how hard it was to ask that.

  “Um, could I get a shower first?” Victoria asked, then squeaked when she started to throw off the covers. They went back up, her fists tangled in the sheets and pressed against her throat. Ransom jumped up, a ready apology already on her lips.

  “Yeah, sorry about that. You kind of got naked last night until I could convince you that sleep was more important,” she informed her, trying to ignore the memory of Victoria’s naked body laid out on her bed, inviting her to join her. Victoria’s cheeks colored even darker, a bright pink glow against the stark bed sheets.