Second Chances: A Control Series Spin-off Read online

  Second Chances

  “Exactly.” My father is animated and claps his hands together. “Son, our first born, we can’t turn back time, but we can move forward together, and the only way to do that is to get you out of here and living again.”

  “S-Son?” My voice catches on the word.

  “That is what you are.” My father comes over and places his left hand on my shoulder and takes my mother’s hand in the other when she offers it.

  “I’m a member of your family with James and Sophie?”

  “Yes,” both my parents reply at once.

  I get to my feet, and the three of us embrace. It’s the first time since we were on the roof, and I savor every moment of it. I’ve been reborn again. I’ll always carry a dark streak with me—it’s who I am, but I know the direction I need to take now. The path of protecting my family, not trying to destroy them. They’re my everything.

  My counselor coughs behind us. We turn and look at him. I’m in the middle, and my parents are either side of me.

  “I would say that’s a pretty phenomenal breakthrough in your treatment. How would you like to try and get back to some sort of normality?”

  “Normality?”

  Second Chances

  A Control Series Spin-off

  Anna Edwards

  Contents

  Dedication

  Foreword

  Prologue

  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

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  The Control Series

  The Glacial Blood Series

  Dark Sovereignty Series

  Also by Anna Edwards

  Evergreen series by Cat Hughes

  Copyright © 2019 by Anna Edwards

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, without prior written permission.

  www.AuthorAnnaEdwards.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.

  Warning: This book contains sexually explicit scenes, adult language, and may be considered offensive to some readers. This book is for sale to adults only, as defined by the laws of the country in which you made your purchase.

  Disclaimer: Please do not try any sexual practice without the guidance of an experienced practitioner. Neither the publisher nor the author will be responsible for any loss, harm, injury, or death resulting from the use of the information contained in this book.

  Cover Design by www.CharityHendry.com

  Logo Design by Charity Hendry

  Editing by Tracy Roelle

  Proofreading by Sheena Taylor

  Formatting by Anna Edwards

  Cover Model: Jered Youngblood

  Photography by: CJC Photography

  Second Chances/ Anna Edwards -- 1st ed.

  If you are still breathing, you have a second chance.

  Oprah Winfrey

  Second Chances is a spin off from the first series I wrote when starting out in my career. It follows Ryan North and Elena Lopez, characters in The Control Series.

  This book is a standalone and can be read without reading The Control Series first, doing so, however, may improve your pleasure of falling in love with all my characters. I know I have done while writing them and will find leaving them behind so hard.

  The Control Series Complete Boxset

  Surrendered Control

  Divided Control

  Misguided Control

  Controlling Darkness

  Controlling Heritage

  Controlling Disgrace

  Controlling Expectations

  Controlling the Past

  Prologue

  Ryan

  “You good-for-nothing, lazy, disgusting brat. Why I keep you around, I don’t know? It’s not as though the money they give me for you is worth it even.” My foster mother, Chantelle, screeches as she whacks me hard across the ear. I’m sure I can feel my brain rattling around in my head. My arm is still in a cast from where my foster father, Dwayne, broke it a few weeks back. I curse my birth parents for leaving me here—it’s become a daily ritual I perform in my head.

  I’d been trying to help Chantelle out by cleaning the house because I thought it would make her happy. It wasn’t my fault that I knocked into the table and sent the plates crashing to the floor, breaking them.

  “I’ll be asking for more money to replace all of my stuff you’ve broken. Do you even know how much plates cost?” Chantelle asks.

  The ones I’m given to eat off are probably no more than a pound each from one of the cheap shops on the high street, but I know better than to argue with my foster mother when she’s in this sort of mood.

  “I don’t. I’m sorry.” I hold my uninjured arm across my face to ward off another attack.

  “You’re a good-for-nothing freak. No wonder they gave you to me. Wish I’d said no. Get the fuck out of my sight. You can go without dinner tonight. I’ve got better things to do than cook for you.”

  I scamper out of the room as quickly as my lanky legs can take me. Dwayne is on the sofa in the lounge with the TV playing, but he isn’t watching it. The needle sticking out of his arm tells me that the lights are on, but nobody’s home in my foster father’s head. The man is lost to his latest heroin fix. That’s the true reason why they keep me—it means they can afford to stick rubbish into their veins.

  I open the front door and step outside onto the walkway of the run-down east London council house we live in. There is a chill in the air. Winter is on the way, but there’s no point in asking for a coat—the only thing I’d be given is a beating. I’m not enrolled in school or any clubs, and I don’t have regular meals, because the people who are supposed to be looking after me aren’t prepared to spend any money on me.

  My stomach rumbles, and I’m reminded I’ve not eaten since I had a slice of stale toast that morning. I’m tall for my ten years, but there isn’t an ounce of fat on me. When Dwayne and Chantelle had reluctantly taken me to hospital for my broken arm, the doctors had told them I needed to have more milk, cheese, and spinach because my bones aren’t strong enough for someone my age. I had to ask them what spinach was because I’d never heard of it before. I was shocked there were such things as fresh vegetables. I couldn’t recall a time I’d ever had any. Most of my meals consist of takeaways or baked beans on toast.

  My belly groans again, and I put my good hand over it to relieve the pain that spasms through it. If Chantelle isn’t going to feed me, then I’ll have to find my own dinner. I know just the place. My long and lanky legs set off at a running pace, and I reach the back of the pizza shop in no time at all. The delicious smells make the knot of agony in my stom
ach twist even more. But when I open the lid to the first bin, a rancid smell meets my nostrils.

  “Nope, too old.” I replace the lid and dry heave a few times to rid myself of the nausea induced by the rotting food.

  I open the next one.

  “Bingo.” The remnants of lunchtime food rest at the top of the bin. I grab a few pieces and am lucky enough to find some full slices containing my favorite topping, pepperoni. Today is a good day.

  I bring the first slice to my lips.

  “Don’t eat that.” A deep voice comes from behind me.

  Spinning around, I see an old man watching me. His hair is white at the edges, and he’s dressed well. On either side of him are two stocky men. They look scary.

  “Who are you?” I ask but back away from them at the same time.

  “I’m a concerned party,” the man offers and steps closer.

  “A what?”

  “A friend.”

  “You aren’t my friend. I don’t know who you are. If Chantelle and Dwayne owe you money for that stuff they inject into themselves, then you need to go threaten them. I don’t have any cash, or I’d be in the shop buying the pizza not getting it out of the waste.”

  I learned at the age of five there were people who would try and use me to get money from my foster parents. I was taken one day and kept locked in a house with a woman who seemed to have lots of men visiting her. I was there for a week before Chantelle and Dwayne showed up with a fistful of cash, and I was allowed to go home. I kind of liked it at the other house, though. They gave me food and let me watch what I wanted to on the TV. They all laughed at me when I asked if I could stay there. The second time it happened the experience wasn’t so pleasurable. I was beaten with a stick, and it left a big scar on my back.

  “Would you like a pizza from inside the shop?” the man asks.

  “What?”

  “Would you like a pizza from inside the shop? A hot one.” The old man tapped one of the men standing beside him. “Get Ryan a pizza of his choice. We’ll be in the car.”

  “Pepperoni!” I shout at the man as he heads to the front of the shop. It occurs to me I should be worried the stranger knew my name, but I’m so damn hungry I’m beyond caring.

  “Shall we?” The man motions for me to follow.

  I don’t move.

  “You going to hit me?”

  “Pardon.”

  “You going to hit me?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Kill me?”

  “Hadn’t even crossed my mind.”

  “Do that thing I saw Dwayne doing to Chantelle once with his dick? Pushing it in her arse.”

  “I can assure you that’s something I’ll never do.” The old man’s cheeks redden with fury.

  “Ok. What car you got?”

  “I have a BMW.”

  “Cool. You’ve got some money.”

  “I have.” the man agrees, and I start to follow him.

  “Yeah, that’s a posh car. I’ve seen it on the programs Dwayne watches. I like the car programs he has on a lot better than some of the other ones. I really don’t like the ones with all the women together. It looks yucky.”

  “Your foster father has an interesting choice of television viewing.”

  “Yeah. I’m not sure why I can’t watch my programs. Half the time, he doesn’t even know what’s on.”

  We approach a black BMW, and I let out a wolf whistle.

  “This is such a cool car.”

  “Thank you.” The old man chuckles.

  The man who’d gone off to get pizza reappears. The smell distracts me from the car. I grab the pizza box, pull the first slice out and shove it in my mouth before anyone can take it away from me. It's probably the most delicious thing I’ve ever tasted. I moan with delight around the cheese and tomato goodness as its sustenance slides down and fills my tummy.

  “Is that good?” the old man asks, raising an eyebrow toward me.

  “The best,” I mumble back with a mouth full of food.

  “Good. Ryan, do you know who I might be?”

  I stop mid-bite.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Do you know who I am?” the man asks again.

  I study him while finishing my mouthful. I wasn’t certain, but I had a few ideas. Maybe another mouthful would help me determine the truth. I bring the pizza up to my mouth and bite down. Slowly, I chew and then swallow.

  “Are you a relative of the woman who gave birth to me? The ‘bitch’ as Chantelle often calls her.”

  The old man laughs.

  “I am. I’m her father.”

  “So that makes you my grandfather?”

  The old man nods.

  “How do I know you aren’t lying.”

  “You don’t. You must trust me. I no longer speak to my daughter. She and the man who’s your father are no longer allowed in my house after they abandoned you. I knew she didn’t want you, but I had no idea the lengths she’d go to get rid of you. If I’d known, I’d have never let her out of my sight as her due date approached.”

  “You know my father as well?”

  The old man nods again.

  “I’m sorry to say, yes. He destroyed my family and poisoned your mother against me, not that she took much persuading. It’s my understanding it was her decision to get rid of you. The heartbreak killed my wife. She died shortly after you were born.”

  “My grandma?”

  “Yes. She would’ve been, I suppose.”

  I suddenly don't feel like any more of the pizza. The portions I’ve already eaten are sitting heavily in my stomach.

  “Do you know where my parents are?”

  “No. They left my life, and I haven’t tried to contact them since. I’ve spent all this time looking for you. I came here as soon as I found you and learned about the way your foster parents have been forcing you to live.

  “Are you going to take me with you?” Hopes for a different future suddenly spring in my heart. A life away from the drudgery of the one I currently suffer.

  “Would you like to come? I’m old but can help look after you. We must be careful, though. Your parents can’t find out I have you with me. They’d be so angry. I’d fear for my life and yours.”

  I bite my lip to temper down the anger I feel at my grandfather’s revelation.

  “I’ll keep it quiet. They won’t know.”

  “Good. We can get you clean clothes and lots of food. I know you’ve not had much schooling. I’ll hire a tutor to help you learn everything you want to know.”

  “Can I learn how to be a spy?” I lean forward, my eyes widening with excitement and my heart beating faster. “I saw this show the other day on the television. It was so good. The spies were so skilled, and they had cool weapons.”

  “If that’s what you want to be, then I’ll do everything in my power to help.”

  “Thank you.” I hand the pizza box to one of the burly men standing next to my grandfather and fling myself at my newly discovered relative. My thin arms wrap around the old man’s body, and I bury my head in his chest. “I love you, Grandfather.”

  The old man stiffens, and I put it down to the stress of having searched for me for so long.

  “Before we go, we have to do something. Your foster parents…they can’t tell anyone where you’ve gone.”

  “Ok, I’m sure I can just get in the car and go with you. They probably won’t even miss me.”

  “No. We have to do this properly.” My grandfather’s face darkens. If I’m honest, it’s a look that scares me a little, but this man is promising me a better life. My current one is shitty, so at this point, I’m willing to try anything.

  “Ok, Let’s go.” I say, jumping into the car. I immediately start to play with all the cool buttons that when pressed make phone calls, produce ice, and even play my choice of music, loudly, throughout the entire journey. The car pulls up outside my rundown estate, and I lead my grandfather and his two men to my house. When I open the door, b
oth Chantelle and Dwayne are in drug induced highs on the sofa.

  “Drugged up, waste of spaces.” I hear my grandfather mutter under his breath.

  “They’re like this whenever they inject that stuff into their arms. At least they leave me alone when they do it.”

  “No child should see this.” My grandfather frowns and slams his fist against the door. “Prepare two more syringes,” he orders his men. “Be careful what you touch.”

  The men set to work heating up the white powder until it bubbles. They pull the needles from Chantelle’s and Dwayne’s arms and re-fill them before shoving them back in.

  “Done. You want us to inject?” one of the men asks, stepping toward my foster parents.

  “No.”

  “Ryan, do you know what’ll happen to them if they take too much of this drug?”

  I do. I’ve seen it once before when I was eight. Chantelle had taken more than she should, and she got sick. An ambulance had come for her, and I’d been hidden away. It wasn’t until Chantelle had come back that Dwayne had beaten her black and blue for being so stupid and nearly dying. So I do know what happens when you take too much of the stuff.

  “You can die.”

  “They haven’t been very nice people to you, have they?” My grandfather points toward my arm. “Did he do that?”

  I nod.

  “She doesn’t feed you. They won’t let you watch what you want. They beat you. They call you names. Do they deserve to live? If you injected the liquid into their arms, it would take them away forever.”