Redesigned by Passion

By A. N. Johnson

Quinn has awakened in a hospital with no memory of how she arrived there. Unable to remember the last six months, she soon learns the horrors of her attack, forcing her to view life differently. All she knows is that she is alive, but sometimes a second chance isn’t always a good thing. With Quinn’s life in danger, Connor finds himself in a world of blurred lines, where there is no good or bad, only revenge. He is determined to protect her and get justice. . . his way. He will go to any lengths to keep her safe, even if it means saving her from herself. But will she let him?
Neither of them are ready for the betrayal that comes to light. Truths will be revealed and vengeance will be sought.
With passion and pain reshaping their love, will it come to be stronger or will it break under pressure?

This book is intended for mature audiences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: A. N. Johnson
• Release date: Dec 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463208502

A. N. Johnson

After many different attempts at various careers, A. N. Johnson has found her passion in writing.To her, there is nothing better than enjoying as glass of wine and emersing herself in the world she creates through words. She has always been an avid reader of numerous genres, but especially enjoys Erotic Romance. Her first book, Enamored by Design, is one of three in her Erotic Romance and Suspense series.Writing for A. N. Johnson is therapuetic but also fun. As a busy wife and mother of two toddlers, she still makes time to dedicate to her writing and is excited to share her journey as she enters into the world of authors.

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REDESIGNED

by

Passion

By A. N. JOHNSON

Book 2 in The Design Series

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

© 2018 A. N. Johnson

Book Cover by A. N. Johnson

REDESIGNED

by

Passion

Chapter 1

Quinn

I had a plan and it was a simple one.

However, the thing about having a plan. . . life doesn’t give a damn about it.

With my heart racing, I dash for the front door. I can feel him coming for me, and the fear of what he is going to do causes my hands to tremble.

I begin to panic as I fumble with the locks. Time is of the essence and in this situation, it could be the difference between life or death.

The bolt retracts, but it’s too late.

A scorching pain courses through my head as he grabs me by my hair and pulls. My eyes water and I scream as I’m thrown down, hitting a hard surface that causes my surroundings to go dark as I hit the floor.

"Baby girl, when we go in here, I want you to give your mom a big hug and tell her how much you love her. Okay?"

"Okay, daddy."

He opens the door to mommy’s hospital room and I run in. I love when I get to see her. We only get to come a few times a week because mommy has to rest a lot. Daddy says it’s because she is sick, but she doesn’t look sick.

Beep.

I jump in bed with her and climb into her lap. I hug her around her neck and she hugs me back. I love you, mommy. I let her go and look her in the face. When are you coming home? I ask. She doesn’t answer, instead, she begins to cry.

Beep.

"What’s wrong, mommy?"

"Nothing sweetie. Mommy just loves you so much, she says, pulling me back into her for another hug. She kisses my head and squeezes me tighter. Belle, I want you to know that I will always be with you, she points to my heart, right here."

Beep.

"Come here, baby girl." Daddy picks me up and carries me over to the chair by the window. After sitting me in it, he goes to mommy’s side and holds her. He kisses her all over her face while wiping her tears away at the same time.

Beep.

He tells her he loves her and she says it back.

Beep.

"I’ll take care of her, I promise."

Beep.

"You can rest now."

The beeping stops and I call out for her. Mommy?

"She’s gone, Quinn."

I look to my left to see my best friend, Jayla, is sitting at her desk looking through a box of photos. I glance around the room and find I’m no longer in my mother’s hospital room. Now, I am back in my old dorm room.

I turn to Jayla, She can’t go yet. I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye, I cry.

"She knows how you feel, just like I know. She continues looking at the photos in her hand. You remember last Halloween when we dressed up as ketchup and mustard? She laughs. We had good times. Hold on to that."

"What do you mean, Jay?"

"You’ll see. She puts the pictures back into the box and puts it away. She walks over to me. I love you, Quinn, she says, hugging me. I have to go now, and it’s time for you to go on."

"What are you talking about?"

Jayla walks towards the door.

"Jay!"

She looks back and smiles. It’s going to be okay, you have Connor now.

"Jay, wait, I run after her. When I reach the hallway, I look both ways but she’s gone. Jayla!"

I bolt upright then grab my head as my sudden movement triggers a sharp pain, followed by dizziness. Oh, God.

Take it easy, Belle.

Mr. Moore moves to my side and hands me a cup of water. He pushes the call button for the nurse then sits beside me.

Where am I? I ask, before taking a sip of water.

You’re in the hospital, he says, taking my cup away from me so I can lie down.

Right, I had an accident.

We need to talk, he says.

About what?

Jayla. He looks down and takes a deep breath.

What about her? Is she here? I glance around my room. Flowers and Get Well Soon balloons are all over the place. To my right, is a cot and behind it is another bedside table in front of a chair, with a Mac book and papers resting on it.

No, she’s-, he clears his throat. She’s-,

What, Mr. Moore? I ask, growing anxious.

He rubs his hands over his face then stands and begins to pace by the foot of my bed. He stops and looks up towards the heavens as if he is gathering strength to say whatever is on his mind. Taking another deep breath, he lowers his head and looks at me. In his eyes I see remorse, and it immediately puts me on edge.

Mr. Moore, you’re scaring me. Is she hurt? Is she in a room nearby? I ask, tossing my covers off my legs before moving them to the side of the bed. A dull pain radiates through my side as I turn my torso, causing me to wince in pain.

Jayla is dead.

His words crackle in the air like thunder in a storm. It causes my heart rate to spike and my body to tremble. Dead? No, No! She can’t be. I’m having a nightmare. That’s it, I’m still asleep. Wake up, Quinn. Wake up.

I’m so sorry, Belle.

I look up at Mr. Moore and shake my head. No, no . . . no, please, God, no.

All the moving of my head intensifies the pain throbbing in my skull, but I try to stand anyway. Where is she? I need to see her.

You can’t.

What?! You can’t tell me I can’t see my best friend.

Belle, you can’t see her because they buried her already.

What! They can’t, I cry, I didn’t get to see her, tell her I love her. How could they take her away from me?

He rushes to catch me as I stand unsteadily on my feet, then lowers me back into the bed. You shouldn’t get up. You’re still healing.

What happened? I close my eyes and think.

Okay, yesterday Jayla was fine, still asleep when I left for work, but I’m positive she was fine. I went to work, talked with Kaylee, ran into Mr. Moore, and . . . dammit.

Think Quinn. You ran into Mr. Moore then. . .

She was shot and you were attacked.

I open my eyes and stare at him stunned. She was shot? More tears begin to fall as his words echo in my head. Shot?

Belle?

The room starts to spin and I grab onto the bed’s side rail.

Belle!

The room goes dark and I hear Mr. Moore in the distance, yelling for a nurse.

She was shot. . . Jayla is dead.

Panting, I make a run for the door but it won’t open. He pulls me by my hair and throws me to the floor.

"It’s all his fault," he yells as he backhands me.

The sting of his hand causes me to whimper in distress.

"It’s all who’s fault? I ask. The front door opens and Jayla walks in. Run, Jay, I scream, but it’s too late. His evil sights are set on her. His hand raises and that’s when I see the gun. No," I plead but he pulls the trigger anyway.

No!

Hey, it’s okay.

His hands touch my thighs and I pull away, Don’t touch me!

Belle, baby. It’s me, Connor. You’re safe.

I glance around the room and relax a little when I take in my scenery.

Standing beside me with his hands raised, Mr. Moore says, You’re okay, no one is going to hurt you.

Okay, I say, trying to slow my heart rate and control my breathing.

I’m going to hold you now, he says, coming closer to me.

I nod unsure if that’s a good idea, however, when he places his arms around me, I realize this is what I need. I start to cry into his chest and he rubs my back.

She’s gone, I sob, I’ll never see her again.

I know, Belle. I’m so sorry.

I’m picking at the potatoes on my tray when Mr. Moore’s phone rings. He stops typing on his laptop and looks at his phone. He frowns then silences the ringer, before placing it on the table and going back to work.

The nurse walks in and asks, How are you feeling, Miss Parker?

I’ve been better, I say.

Any pain?

I have a slight headache, and my side is sore.

Okay, I’ll grab you something for the pain. It’s about time for your next dose anyway. I’m just going to get your vitals first. She takes my temperature, then blood pressure. Your vitals are looking good. Dr. Raymond will be by a little later to check you out.

Dr. Raymond? But Dr. Monroe is my physician.

Yes, but Dr. Raymond is the neurosurgeon who treated your head injury.

Oh, I say, resuming my current task of poking at the potatoes on my tray.

Not hungry, dear? she asks.

Not really.

Okay, I can take it away, if you’d like.

Yes, please. I turn my attention to Mr. Moore and just watch him.

The last time I saw him, he was sporting a goatee and wearing my coffee all over him. I smile slightly. Only Mr. Moore can make a shirt covered in coffee look sexy.

With his earbuds in, he works diligently on his laptop. His hazel green eyes are glued to his screen and his eyebrows are creased as he concentrates on whatever he’s doing. His goatee is now a trimmed beard, making him look rugged and dangerous, but the good kind of dangerous.

Belle?

His voice brings me back and I look away. The last thing I need to be doing is daydreaming about him, even if it feels good. How long did you say we were together? I ask, looking back at him.

Mr. Moore removes his earbuds, We have been together for about four months now.

That’s not a lot of time.

I agree, that’s why I plan on having you forever.

I look down at my hospital gown and begin to play with the hem of it. Forever? Is that dependent on if I get my memory back?

And we’ve had sex? I ask.

Yes. Many times, and you loved it every single time.

I smile then shake my head. I bet I did. I can only imagine the things he did to me and the lack of remembrance makes me want to find out.

Tell me, what are you thinking about, Belle?

I just wish I could remember, and make sense of what I’m feeling. I hold back that last part because I don’t want to give him false hopes. I don’t know what will happen between us now that I can’t remember. I want to know why his presence comforts me, why his embrace eases my mind, or why I feel drawn to him. How did we get to this point?

From what he’s told me, we have been through a lot of things and it doesn’t seem like something fate would do to two people who are meant to be together. Now, our entire relationship has been wiped from my memory and I’m supposed to not believe this is a sign. Perhaps, this is a chance for me to start over, get back on track with my plan to achieve my goals. Love can wait, right?

Mr. Moore gets out of his chair and sits on the side of my bed. You will remember, just give yourself time.

Okay, I say. He’s right, I need time.

Good morning, Mr. Parker. I apologize for calling you so early, but I wanted to catch you before work. Quinn is awake. . . Yes, sir. . . I know. . . No, she doesn’t. . . Alright, I’ll make sure she does. . . Alright, sir. See you then.

Mr. Moore, I sit up and wipe my eyes, Was that my dad?

Yes. He said he’ll try to be here later today.

You’ve met my dad? I ask. I wonder how that went and can only imagine what he had to say to Mr. Moore. I’m pretty sure I’ll be getting an earful when he arrives later.

Yes, we’ve met and he knows everything. He moves to my side. How do you feel?

Nervous. If my dad knows everything, he’s going to be upset. I’m not ready to deal with that just yet.

Hey, Mr. Moore caresses my cheek, soothing my anxiety. Let’s not get worked up over him coming. He wants to see that you’re okay, not voice his disappointment. If he does, then I’ll put him out.

I smile and nod slowly, then lie back down. The throbbing in my head begins to intensify so I grab a hold of Mr. Moore’s hand.

What’s wrong, Belle? Is it your head? he asks, noticing my discomfort.

Yes, I whisper.

Alright, hold on, beautiful. I’ll get the nurse.

He pushes the button and I wince as a loud high-pitched woman asks how she can help.

Miss Parker is awake and in pain, he says, covering the speaker to muffle the sound.

Okay, the nurse will be right in, she says.

They’re coming, Belle. Just hold on.

Okay, I say, then close my eyes.

Everything makes my headache worse, the light, the noise, and movement. I try to think about anything but the pain, but I can’t. It’s too intense. I feel tears roll down my cheeks and Mr. Moore’s hand wiping them away.

I’ll be right back. I feel the bed shift as he gets up and listen as his footsteps fade away.

I place my hand to my head and cry softly. The pain is paralyzing and overbearing. I can’t do anything but cry and pray. Please God, make the pain stop. The machine monitoring my heart rate starts going off and I cry harder.

I hear the door open followed by multiple footsteps, then the beeping stops.

I’m sorry, honey. This should help, the nurse says.

How long before her pain subsides? Mr. Moore asks.

A few minutes, if not sooner. Just hang in there, honey.

I feel the nurse check the bandages on my head then pull back the covers. She begins pressing and feeling my side, which causes a sharp pain to shoot through it, causing me to gasp. She pushes again, closer to my ribs and I cry out in agony.

For fuck's sake, can’t you wait to do that? She’s in enough pain as it is.

I know and I’m sorry, but I have to check her out.

She eases the amount of pressure she applies to my side but continues her exam. The pounding in my head begins to ease, so I open my eyes. I see Mr. Moore pacing beside my bed, running his hands over his low-cut hair and mumbling curses under his breath.

How’s your head, honey? the nurse asks.

Getting better, I say, still watching Mr. Moore. When he hears me speak, he looks at me with pain filled eyes. My chest constricts.

He moves to my side and kisses my forehead gently. Are you sure you’re okay? Do you want me to get you to another hospital?

I’m sorry, sir, but you can’t have her moved, the nurse says, re-covering me with my blankets.

Say the word, Belle and I will get you to a better hospital, he says, ignoring the nurse’s comment.

No, it’s okay. I’m okay, I say, trying to put him at ease.

If you need anything else, just use your call button. The nurse looks at Mr. Moore and rolls her eyes. I don’t know what he went out there and told them to get them in here, but I’m thankful he cares enough to do something.

I know I shouldn’t, but I move over in bed and pat the empty space beside me so he can lay with me. He does so without hesitation. He wraps me in his arms and kisses my forehead. My body relaxes as I take comfort in his arms. Closing my eyes, I inhale his scent and images of him leaning in towards me flash in my head; one of him whispering in my ear, then one of him smiling seductively at me, and the last of him glaring at me.

My eyes fly open and I push him away. His eyebrows crease in confusion but before either one of us can say a word, someone knocks on the door.

In walks an older man and two police officers. The older man, I learn, is Detective Matthews. His salt and pepper colored hair is in a buzz cut which enhances the wrinkles around his eyes and the scar above his right brow. His midsection overlaps his belt where his badge and gun sit.

Behind him are officers Suller and Hayes, who both appear to be too young to be police officers. Hayes glances around my hospital room while Suller zeroes in on Mr. Moore, who gets out of the bed and stands beside me.

What can I help you with, detective? he asks.

Actually, Mr. Moore, I’m here to ask Miss Parker a few questions, he says, removing a notepad from his coat pocket.

Well, unfortunately, she cannot remember anything about that night, but if she does, I’ll be sure to give you a call. Mr. Moore says, glancing at me then back to Detective Matthews.

The detective closes his notepad and turns to Mr. Moore. What about you?

What about me? I’ve told you everything I know.

Yes, but you didn’t say where you were that night.

That’s because you didn’t ask. Mr. Moore crosses his arms over his chest.

Well, I’m asking now.

I was with my friend, Hunter, until eight and then I was at home until I went over to Quinn’s apartment.

Alone? Officer Suller asks, prompting Mr. Moore to glance at him sideways.

Yes.

Detective Matthews looks at me and I look away. I’m afraid he’ll be able to see my uncertainty with everything. I think we have taken up enough of your time, he says. Miss Parker, if you should remember anything about that night, he looks at Mr. Moore, I mean anything, please call me. He hands me his card then exits the room with the two policemen following behind.

Mr. Moore grabs his phone and begins texting someone. He has completely forgotten about me pushing him away and I’m glad.

I close my eyes and try to think about where we could have been, when he was angry with me, and what could have happened before and after that memory, but I get nothing. All I see is him glaring at me and I shudder.

Oh, no. Could he be the person who put me in here?

Later in the evening, my dad arrives at my room with a bouquet of flowers. Not that I need anymore. He hugs me then shakes Mr. Moore’s hand, who volunteers to leave and give us some privacy. Although I am afraid Mr. Moore might be the reason I’m here, a part of me wants him to stay, but I’m not sure why.

How are you, baby girl? my dad asks.

Okay, I say, avoiding his eyes.

Quinn? Quinn, look at me. I meet his eyes with mine. What’s the matter?

I take a deep breath and say, Mr. Moore told me you know everything about us and . . . well, I’m sorry.

What?

I’m sorry. I know you’re disappointed in me.

My dad sits on the bed beside me and pulls me in for another hug, careful not to squeeze too tight. I’m not disappointed, Quinn. I’m proud of you. No, I wasn’t happy at first, but when I spoke to Connor, I knew there was no one who could love you more.

I pull back and look at my dad. You don’t think us being together is a mistake?

No, I don’t. He smiles. After your miscarriage, you and I had a talk. Do you remember what it was about?

I shake my head no.

That’s okay, I’ll tell you. I told you that I was proud of you and apologized for not saying it sooner. I had no idea that you needed to hear me say it. I thought pushing you to do better was a sure way to keep you pushing for success. I never meant for it to imply you weren’t doing enough. I have always been proud of you, and I am proud of the woman I see before me.

I throw myself back into my dad’s arms and cry. I cannot believe he apologized and is proud of me even though I was in a relationship with my boss.

. . . No one is perfect but you come pretty damn close. I couldn’t have prayed for a better daughter. . . There is a lot I should have told you, but I can’t go back. . . Some days will be easier than others and, on those days, live. Enjoy every moment and move forward.

Parts of our conversation comes back to me and I clutch my dad tighter. It feels as if a weight has been lifted off of my shoulders. I can breathe on my own and not worry about not being good enough in my dad’s eyes. I can live my life for me.

I may not have been there through you and Connor’s relationship, but talking to him, and seeing him by your side through all of this, shows me he would move heaven and earth for you.

My dad continues talking, bringing me back to this moment and what got me here. I cry harder because the man my dad is talking about is not who I saw in that flashback. Mr. Moore looked angry as if he was ready to murder someone, but I was the only person around.

I can’t tell my dad that I think Mr. Moore would hurt me and I’m afraid to bring it up to Mr. Moore.

What if he gets upset? What was my relationship with Mr. Moore really like? Is he the cause of everything bad that has happened to me?

Chapter 2

Connor

I’m responding to Rachel’s email about prospective employees to step in for Quinn when there’s a knock on Quinn’s hospital room door.

A man in a white coat walks in and calls out for Quinn, waking her from her nap. He walks over to me and I stand to shake his hand.

Good afternoon, Mr. Moore.

Dr. Raymond.

Moving to Quinn’s side, he asks, How are we feeling today?

Quinn sits up in bed, Okay, she says, wincing. She places her hand to her side and I know it’s because of her sore ribs.

Three weeks ago, when she first woke up, was a bittersweet moment. I was elated to see her, to hear her speak again, but I knew I had to tell her about Jayla. Nothing in my life could have prepared me for such a thing.

I have never had to break such horrible news to someone I loved, and I had no idea how to do it. Should I lead up to it or dive straight in? Do I hold her in my arms or give her space? Should I be the one telling her, or should her father?

All of this raced through my mind as she looked at me through those gorgeous brown eyes of hers, and I knew I had to just rip the band-aid off. There was no way I could prolong her pain, I needed to tell her everything then try to help her heal.

She cried a lot over her first week and I didn’t know what to say or do. Her nightmares kept her up at night, but once I held her she was able to fall asleep. It was the only time I was able to hold her and it was killing me. She’s still hesitant about us, but all I can do is wait it out.

Dr. Monroe came in a few days ago to assess Quinn’s healing. The stitches above her eye were removed, and many of her bruises were beginning to fade away. Her incisions from surgery were healing well, but her cracked ribs were going to take a little more time. We were told that her neurologist, would be the one to remove the bandage on her head when the time was right.

No headache? he asks, removing a pair of bandage scissors from his coat pocket. He begins removing the gauze and inspecting the small cuts on her head.

No, well, a slight one, but it’s not unbearable.

That’s good to hear. You will notice that they will start to ease more and more with time, but until then, I will be sure to prescribe pain medicine for the headaches.

Prescribe? I ask, Are you saying she can go home?

I will have to double check with Dr. Monroe, but yes. She should be home by tomorrow evening.

He begins to look into her eyes with his penlight, then instructs her to follow his finger with her eyes, before testing her strength on her right and left side.

While he’s doing that, I run over the list of things I need to do before taking Quinn home. My leg begins to vibrate, so I reach into my pants pocket and retrieve my phone. Seeing Hunter flash on the screen, I connect the call.

Excuse me a moment, I say to Quinn and Dr. Raymond, before leaving the room. Hey man, what’s up?

She left, bro. She fucking took Junior and left.

Shit. I remember Hunter telling me that they were thinking about calling it quits, but I think Hunter was hoping for a different outcome. You alright? I ask.

Miranda’s moving to Georgia with my son, what do you think?

Right, I’m on my way.

Hanging up, I run through the list of people I trust to be by Quinn’s side while I’m gone. It’s quick. I don’t trust many and since she has been attacked, the list is even shorter. Then it hits me.

I call the office and ask Whitney to put me through to Kaylee Murphy. She had become a friend of Quinn’s her first week working for me. It seemed like every time I turned around the two of them were together talking in the break room or at one of their desks.

She had been calling Quinn ever since she found out she was awake and since Quinn remembered her, Kaylee would be my best bet.

Hello?

Kaylee, this is Connor.

Oh, hi, Mr. Moore. Is everything okay? Is Quinn alright?

Yeah, she’s getting there. I need to tend to something, but I don’t want to leave her alone. Can you be here in the next thirty minutes?

Um. . . sure, but what do I tell Mr. Bradley?

Don’t worry about him, I’ll inform him that I needed you for something.

"Okay, I am on