Beauty from Ashes: Authors & Dancers Against Cancer Anthology

by Vera Quinn

married to Claudia Reklinger – one child

  Delilah “Doll” Reklinger Crews

  Talon “Tripp” Crews

  (Catawba Hellions President in One Ride – ends up Haywood’s Landing and overall President)

  Married to Doll

  Tripp and Doll have two kids –

  Blaine Ward Crews (BW)

  Dia Nicole Crews

  Rhett “Danza” Perchton

  (Haywood’s Landing Original – overall VP – retired)

  married to Mary Alice – one child

  Savannah “Sass” Perchton Oleander

  Frank “Tank” Oleander

  (Haywood’s Landing Hellions and overall VP)

  Married to Sass

  Tank and Sass have four kids -

  Kenneth “Red” Oleander

  Rhett “Crunch” Oleander

  Kellum “Pretty Boy” Oleander

  Thomas “Tommy Boy” Oleander

  Tommy “Rocky” Fowler (Haywood’s Landing Original)

  married to Marie – one child

  Dina Renee Fowler Davenport

  Richard “Frisco” Billings (Haywood’s Landing Original - retired)

  married to Amy Mitchell – they have one child together

  He has a daughter from a previous relationship with Tilly

  Nathan “Boomer” Vaughn

  Patched in to Catawba Hellions/Moved over to Haywood’s Landing Charter

  Current Officer

  married to Purple Pussy Pamela – two children alive (lost a daughter Cannon previously)

  Colton “Kick” Vaughn

  Wesson “Knuckle Buster” Vaughn

  Ruben “Ruby” Castillo

  Married to Jenna “Vida” Natera de Castillo – three children

  Maritza Castillo

  Mariella Castillo

  Ruben “RJ” Castillo Junior

  Drexel “Rex” Crews

  Catawba Hellions President

  married to Lux – one child

  Axel Devon Crews

  Andy “Shooter” Jenkins

  Catawba Hellions VP

  Married to Tessie

  Tessie and Shooter have 7 children together and Tessie has one child with Rex–

  Axel Devon Crews

  Andrew “Drew” Jenkins

  Andrea “Dre” Jenkins

  Alexander “Alex” Jenkins

  Abigail “Abby” Jenkins

  Asante “Te’” Jenkins

  Acadia “Cadie” Jenkins

  Letter from Chelsea

  Dear Reader,

  Thank you for your patience with me as I slid this short story into the series. Please note that this book picks up where we left off with Hawk and Laura in Bleed for It. This sneak peek is for Authors and Dancers Against Cancer’s charity anthology Beauty in the Ashes. I will expand this story and continue it into a full length novel coming in 2021, so stayed tuned for the extended version next year.

  If you are new to the Hellions MC, please note this is a very soft read since it’s for charity, and the actual series and book will contain violence and sexual situations. When I write for charity anthologies, I try to include material that isn’t full of triggers, so understand the other books in this particular series may contain triggers. I would love for you to take a chance on my books, but I want to be up front that my motorcycle club books contain triggers in some instances. For the Hellions regular readers, this story will be expanded and give you all the suspense you are used to.

  Until then, I hope you enjoy this beautiful ride.

  All my heart,

  Chelsea

  Dedication

  To anyone struggling in the face of an adversity, you are stronger than you realize. Keep on keeping on.

  Laura

  “Forget your troubles. Find your rhythm and dance.” Sign on the dance studio wall.

  “You don’t have to do this,” I remind Yesnia who stands beside me at the entrance to the room.

  The open space where I hope to find peace again.

  Something has to give. Day in and day out, it’s been a year, and I’m still struggling to fight the darkness. Even my best friend doesn’t know the thoughts that devour my mind. I’m desperate for a chance to feel okay again.

  “I want to,” she replies in the same way she has for the last week, along with giving my hand a squeeze.

  Honestly, in my heart, I know Yesnia wants to be here with me. This is the type of woman she is, the one who stands beside her friends in every struggle. Never in my life have I had a friend like Yesnia. We are closer than sisters. Truthfully, I don’t know where I would be without her.

  I sigh, still unsure if I can do this. Going out, having a life, it shouldn’t be this hard. Things could have been much worse. Why then, is it so hard for me to heal?

  Sensing my hesitation, Yesnia moves from beside me to stand in front of me. Her brown eyes lock to mine. “You have seen me at my lowest. When my body was barely hanging on, and my mind was absolutely gone, you encouraged me. I’m alive and happy today because you are an angel who got me through. Now, I’m honored to see you through this.”

  Tears fill my eyes. I remember watching her fight for her life. I remember when every movement was pain for her. I also vividly recall how it all felt when I endured the same.

  Yesnia Dominguez-Almanza-soon to be Crews is my angel. She just doesn’t exactly know it. Yes, we met when her own uncle shot her. In the beginning, I was nothing more than hired help. I did clean her wounds, watch her heal, and encourage her. I remember the countless tears she shed as I washed her hair. Unable to do so much for herself, we bonded.

  Only I never told her she was my lifeline too.

  Back then, I was a nurse aid. I went to school at the local community college to get my certificate when my mom became ill. She needed round-the-clock care, the kind of care we couldn’t afford. Getting my certificate, I not only gained the experience to care for my mother, who at the time was dying from cancer, but I landed a job with her doctor. If it wasn’t for Yesnia’s tragedy, I don’t know where I would be today.

  As I grieved the loss of my mother, the doctor who was more than ready to retire took on one last client.

  Javier Almanza.

  He needed to hide his only daughter away to heal, while he chased down the uncle who hurt her in the first place. Granted, back then, I didn’t know any of this. The information presented to me was that we were taking on a private client where the doctor and I would give twenty-four-hour care to a single patient. Since I had no family, literally, there was no one waiting for me to come home. This job came at the perfect time. If I had to return home, I know the walls would have closed in on me. The memories would have been too much to take.

  The same feelings that swallowed me whole in those early days of my loss consume me now. Except, it’s completely different. During the daylight hours, it’s not as bad as night. At night, that’s when it all comes rushing back. Yesnia doesn’t know it because she already feels enough guilt over what happened to me, so I won’t ever tell her.

  “Yesnia, I’m fine. I just want to try something new,” I lie.

  I am anything but fine. One day, Hawk is going to move on with his life, and then where will I be? No one knows but him. I have to find a way to cope and break this dependency I have.

  “Did you dance as a little girl?” she asks, and I nod because the few fun memories I have come from dancing as a child. It’s why I decided to give this a shot.

  “We didn’t have a lot of money, but Mom, she loved to dance, so she would send me to camp every summer. I didn’t get to do dance regularly. But once a year, Mom sent me to camp. I spent a week dancing my heart out, and at the end, Mom came and got to see the performance without spending hundreds of dollars on a costume. Did you dance?”

  Yesnia shakes her head. “Unless you count in the kitchen with my mom, no. But we danced all the time, the two of us. She swears it’s a Mexican thing, and I didn’t need classes because my hips moved on their
own.” She laughs, and I smile, knowing her mom absolutely would say something like that.

  A stranger approaches. “Excuse me,” she mutters meekly. “Is this the adult beginners’ class?”

  I shrug my shoulders. “I sure hope so,” I reply softly.

  “My therapist said this would be good to build confidence. I’m thinking I should just go home,” the young woman admits, and I instantly relax.

  “I’m Laura,” I extend my hand in greeting, “This is Yesnia. We’re new to this too.”

  She shakes my hand. “I’m Martha, but everyone calls me Marty.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Yesnia adds before taking the lead and moving into the open dance room. The walls are painted in a soft lavender with a bar running across the back wall and the front wall being floor to ceiling mirrors. There are speakers hanging in the corners and recessed lighting that seems to be on different switches, since not all the lights are on currently.

  “Guess we should stretch,” Marty practically whispers before moving to the back corner of the room.

  I don’t know what I’m expecting. The only thing I know is something has to change. Day in and out, everything is the same. I get up in the arms of a man I’m hopelessly in love with but will never have a chance with. After I shower, attempt to meditate, and have breakfast, I leave the house I reside in and walk next door. From there, Yesnia kisses her man Axel passionately at the front door before we both climb in her car and go to work.

  Our boutique, a quaint shop in a strip mall, is thriving. I can’t complain about work at all. It’s the best part of every day. I stay busy there. Whether it’s ordering new items, cleaning up, or checking inventory, I remain constantly working. This keeps the thoughts at bay.

  The thoughts scream inside my head that I should have bled out on the basement floor in Mexico. The voices tell me everyone around me feels sorry for me and that is the only reason they stick around. Worse, though, is the way I feel like I can’t erase his touch. The memory invades, and I fight to hold myself upright.

  I keep blinking, struggling to focus. The space is dark. They took me from the bed. My head pounds as I become aware. It all happened too fast. They hit me over the head. I was unconscious. I came to in this room with Yesnia, then passed out against her. Now, I’m waking up, and my head hurts but not as bad.

  There is a dampness in the air but more like a humid type of feeling, not necessarily like the space is wet. I feel under me— the floor is dirt, really fine, almost like sand. My eyes adjust to the light, and the ceiling shows pipes and wires like we are under a house, in a basement possibly. The walls are made of stacked concrete blocks with mortar dried between them.

  Yesnia is with me. While I hate that we are both in danger, I’m grateful to not be alone. Together, we can get out of here. I just needed a little rest from the headache. Now, I’m ready to plan and get out of here.

  The man in front of us wears cargo pants and a wife-beater white tank top. He has a devilish smirk that sends chills up my spine. I’ve never dealt with men like him before. Even growing up in Chicago, I never had to face someone with this kind of venom.

  “Yesnia Domingues-Almanza, you are a sight to behold,” he says with a thick Hispanic accent.

  Yesnia spits at his feet. I don’t know if I want to yell out, “You go girl,” or “have you lost your fucking mind?”

  “Tisk, tisk,” he mutters as pulls her up by her hair.

  I cry out as fear grips me, and I watch tears fill my friend’s eyes. She remains strong as she struggles to get balanced with her ankles bound. The man tosses her around easily.

  “Your father is a bold man, Yesnia,” he tells the room, and I’m wondering what all of this is about.

  “My father’s going to kill you,” Yesnia yells, causing the man to yank her harder. We’re going to die here, is all I keep thinking.

  The man laughs arrogantly, “She thinks her daddy will save the day like some hero. No, this is a story where I end you all.”

  Yes, we are going to die here. In all the times I wished I could stop breathing, this is not how I wanted my end to be. I have begged for death. I have prayed for God to let me die in my sleep so that I could see my mother one more time. If tears were a pathway to heaven, I would be there easily. I haven’t been okay since losing my mother. In all the pain and grieving, this is not how I want to die, though.

  Another man emerges from the shadows. Before I can react, he lifts me up by my hair. The pain radiates down my body. As I rise up, he cups between my legs as a way to steady me. I let out a whimper from the contact.

  Yesnia and I have been here for who knows how long. The need to pee has been a fierce one, but my entire body is tense as the man’s fingers wiggle around over the fabric of my pajama pants. He continues to press harder. My stomach rolls as humiliation and fear build inside of me.

  Yesnia looks to me; our eyes lock. I try to focus on her, not the man forcing his fingers inside of me with my clothing as the only barrier. My insides burn from his rough handling and my need to use the restroom.

  “Laura is not part of this,” Yesnia tells her captor. “Let her go and just use me. Whatever you’re going to do, you do it to me.”

  Oh, how my heart swells and hurts. I love that she wants to take my place. But Yesnia has endured so much already. I have to fight for her. I have to get through this for her.

  Swallowing back my fear, I shake my head slightly at my very best friend. I will take whatever this man or these men do to me as long as they don’t hurt her.

  “Sweet Yesnia, Laura is your motivation to help us. And you, dear girl, are motivation to get your father to fall in line.”

  My head pounds, and my heartbeat races. Javier Almanza is a man I don’t take lightly. The man groping me rubs harder. It hurts as he digs his digits inside of me. The more he touches me, the more I want Javier to find them. He is scary on a good day and ruthless on a bad. For these men to think they can take him on, well, we’re all bound to die today because they are stupid. Yesnia is strong, but I don’t think either of us are equipped to take on this situation. Javier will have his retribution. I just have to hope I’m either dead or the man doesn’t rape me before we are saved.

  “I have nothing to do with my father’s business,” Yesnia explains shaking her head. “He won’t do what you want. He barely even knows me, anyway.”

  This is both a truth and a lie, I think. I know her father will move heaven and earth for his daughter, but I also know the two have spent years apart and are still learning each other.

  “He keeps me at the house only to appease my mother. We don’t even talk,” Yesnia continues on with what I know is a lie. Javier Almanza doesn’t go more than an hour or two without talking to his daughter.

  Swiftly, the man’s hand comes up and across Yesnia’s face. “Lying will only cause you pain, Yesnia.”

  “What is it you want from me?” Yesnia shrieks.

  The man holding me furiously tries to finger-fuck me through my clothes. No matter how I twist or turn, I can’t get space from his assault.

  “Have you ever heard the saying, an enemy of my enemy is my friend?” Yesnia’s captor asks, and I fight back my urge to scream.

  I don’t care about who is whose enemy. I don’t care about their bullshit. I need this man to stop touching me.

  The panic climbs inside of me. They keep talking, but the words don’t register as I fight the need to pee and the burning sensation the man brings on in my vaginal area.

  The man holding me turns his head with a smirk, flashing a gold-capped tooth on his bottom row of teeth. “If these two are of no use, then let me play with them.”

  Before I have a chance to brace myself, he presses my back against the wall and drops his head to my neck. He doesn’t suck or kiss, no, the twisted bastard bites.

  I cry out in pain.

  He pulls away, almost laughing as my blood coats his lips. The air hitting my freshly exposed skin burns as he presses me tighter to
the wall. My hands hurt as they are behind my back. I can’t move my legs much with my ankles bound.

  I can’t escape.

  Fear and helplessness hold me in place.

  Roughly, he pushes down the front of my pants. I cry out, begging him not to do what I fear he’s going to do. The man laughs in my face as his dirty hands cover my most intimate parts. He shoves what feels like two fingers inside me. My body reacts, unable to hold my bladder anymore as I pee all over his hand and myself.

  Humiliation is nothing compared to the feeling of him truly violating my body. My clothes are no longer a barrier between his flesh and my own.

  “Oh baby, so wet for me,” he sneers as my pants are saturated and the air reeks of my urine. I bite back the pain instead of crying out, only minor whimpers escape me. He doesn’t get to see what he’s done.

  He may take my body, but he’ll never have my soul.

  “This is one of my favorite songs to warm up to,” a young woman in a pair of yoga pants and a sports bra enters the room just as she clicks a button on a remote and music plays into the space.

  “This is my fight song!” she yells with the music as she begins our warm up.

  Take back my life song…

  The words play, and I begin to move. With every passing second, I find myself relaxing. It’s funny, as a child I remember instructors at Dance Camp saying dancing is a form of expression. Every routine they wanted us to pour out our emotions.

  Since our kidnapping, I’ve been numb. I haven’t allowed myself to feel anything but empty inside.

  This is my fight song!

  This is take back my life song!

  This is the beginning of me finding the beauty in it all.

  Channing

  “Fishing teaches a man to be patient. You don’t always get the right catch on the first drop of your line. You must wait until the fish is the perfect one for you.” Gramps’ favorite quote before tossing back the first catch every time he took me fishing.