by S. M. Shade
“That was amazing!” a woman says, approaching me. “Are you available to do private lessons? My daughter is having trouble with a new routine.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just helping Ryan as a favor for Lisa. I don’t teach.”
Disappointed, the woman nods. “Well, if you change your mind, Lisa has my information. I’d love to have you work with my daughter.”
After assuring the lady I’d call if I changed my mind, I say goodbye to Ryan and change into my street clothes. Lisa catches me before I can leave.
“Ayda! Ryan’s routine looks amazing. I’ve had requests from three different parents for private lessons.”
I can’t deny the little spike of happiness I feel. I’ve avoided dancing in public ever since I was attacked. To me, dance is about displaying the human body with grace and beauty, and my beauty is long gone. I assumed it would be awkward, if not downright horrifying to have to face those in the dance world with such a scarred body. It’s been suggested before that I teach, but I didn’t want to deal with cringing parents or kids who may be repulsed or even frightened.
Maybe I was wrong. Working with Ryan has brought back so much of the joy I used to feel when I danced. Maybe I can still be a part of the world I love, instead of dancing at night to block out the loneliness. I could pass on what I know and help these kids accomplish what I couldn’t.
Lisa watches my internal struggle. “I’m not asking you to teach full time,” she points out, her voice soft. “Just a few hours a week, one on one with the students who are competing.”
“Okay,” I blurt.
Lisa’s eyebrows jump and a smile bursts across her face. “You’ll do it?”
“Let’s say, two days per week? Two students per day? And you choose the students.”
“Yes! Great! Fantastic! I’ll set it up!”
Walking to my car, I worry over my impulsive decision, but I also realize something. I’m looking forward to it.
My mood plummets when my phone rings, and Dare’s number pops up. I quickly reject the call. The man has balls the size of Texas. He has to know I heard him fucking someone else not even twenty-four hours after he left my bed. It’s not like we’re exclusive, but I’m also not getting involved with a guy who fucks anything that moves.
I knew sleeping with him would be a mistake, that I’d lose him as a friend, when I don’t have a lot of those to sacrifice. Maybe we’ll eventually be able to go back to hanging out, but I won’t be fucking him again.
I have to admit, he’s been good for me, though. He’s given me some of my confidence back, and I’m not going to go back to hiding in my apartment just because it didn’t work out. Maybe there are some things I can’t have out of life, like love or marriage, but that doesn’t mean I can’t try for more than I have now, like friendship and a fulfilling career.
Don’t get me wrong, I like the work I do in graphic art, and I’ll balance it with the teaching, but I need something to do that would force me to leave the house. Sadie will be thrilled when I tell her.
Chapter Eight
Dare
When Mason called, I assumed he needed me to hack something or find out some information on someone. I didn’t expect a security job, but I couldn’t say no. He and his brothers who run Striking Back, a domestic violence shelter, always step in whenever we need them, and they must be short handed to ask me to guard a family when I’ve never done it before.
He calls me when I’m almost to the house. “All you have to do is stay with them. I’ve moved them over one hundred fifty miles from her husband, so I don’t expect he’ll find them, but I need someone there just in case. Since you’re big as a damn house, you’re nominated. Alex will be there Monday morning to relieve you,” he says.
“Got it.”
Three days trapped in a house with strangers. I’m glad I brought my laptop. Ayda has given me next to no information about who hurt her, but since she revealed it was a senator’s son and how long ago it happened, I know I can find out. The senator in question may have been able to keep it off the news, but the internet is not as forgiving, and I know there will be blog posts and chats about it. I just have to dig them up.
My mind wanders back to Ayda. Her hot little body under me, panting and calling my name. I knew there was a dirty girl hiding beneath that reserved manner. She can’t hide from me. I could see the fear and trepidation in her gaze when I ran my fingers over her scars, and it pissed me off. What the hell has she heard from those past assholes to make her so ashamed of something that was done to her, not by her?
The thin, raised skin does nothing to detract from her beauty, and I hate that she can’t see how attractive she really is. I’ve only been away from her for a few hours and I already can’t wait to get my hands on her again.
I’m not going to try to resist her anymore. I know there’s a lot she doesn’t know about me, and after she trusted me enough to tell me what happened to her, I have to come clean about my past. Even if she doesn’t hold that against me, there’s the fact I still break the law. Will it matter to her that it’s for a good reason, or will she run when she finds out?
Landon and the guys would never stop breaking my balls if they knew how twisted up this little scrap of a woman has me.
I’m met by Devon, one of Mason’s security men as soon as I pull into the drive. He fills me in on the family I’ll be protecting. “Sharon and the kids are inside,” he tells me. “There isn’t much for you to do. Just keep an eye on things and don’t let anyone inside the house. The local authorities know what’s going on, so if you do have any problems, don’t hesitate to call them. Sharon knows the code for the house alarm.”
“How dangerous is this guy?”
Devon shakes his head. “He’s a minimal threat, if any. Just about pissed himself when Parker and I came to move them out of their apartment. But she’s scared, and we want to make sure she doesn’t give in and go back to him, so the farther away we could get her, the better.”
He accompanies me inside and introduces me to Sharon and her six year old twins before leaving. Sharon gives me a slight smile, then returns to playing with Legos with her boys. It’s clear she’d rather I not bother her, so I head back to the guest bedroom to drop off my bag, then take a seat on the front porch and pull out my laptop. I want to call Ayda, but it’s only been a few hours. This woman is turning me into a little bitch.
I spend the next few hours searching for Ayda’s attacker. Whoever this guy is, his father has done a good job of burying the story, but not good enough. I help myself to some sealed court papers and within minutes, I have his name in front of me. Talbot Coulter, age twenty-seven. This guy is a Grade-A asshole with a record going back to his eighteenth birthday. There’s a sealed juvenile record as well, but I don’t even bother with it. I’ve seen all I need to see.
His father, Senator Montgomery Coulter, has been bailing him out of trouble for years, and by the looks of it he has more than one a judge in his pocket. Add another name to my revenge list. Ayda isn’t the only woman he’s hurt over the years. The same judge dismissed a case against him brought by a young woman at his college for sexual assault just a year after Ayda’s attack.
A search using Talbot’s name and Ayda’s steers me to an article that names the dancer who put him up to it. It isn’t hard to find information on her once I have her name, since she doesn’t even have her Facebook profile set to private. It gets easier and easier to find people since the world is now steeped in narcissism. Now, everyone posts everything about their lives as if no one is watching.
I’m not sure what I want to do about her yet. I won’t use violence against a woman, even one as deserving as her, but there are lots of other ways to screw with someone’s life. They scarred Ayda for life, and not just physically. They are going to pay.
Sharon is getting the kids to bed when I go back inside, and she watches me check the locks on the doors and windows before arming the alarm. Approaching me hesitantly she asks, “Do you th
ink we could take the boys down the street to the park tomorrow? Devon went with us before. They’re getting a little restless being cooped up.”
If Devon took them, it must be okay. From what he and Mason have told me, he’s keeping a guard here just as a precaution, and to make Sharon feel secure. “Sure, just let me know when you’d like to go.”
“Thank you.” She gives me a quick smile and retires to her bedroom.
The last couple of nights with little sleep are starting to catch up with me, so I decide to head to bed. Something tells me those boys will be up early and I’m not wrong.
The sound of giggling wakes me and it takes me a second to remember where I am. Dragging myself out of bed, I do a quick check of the house and yard. Everything is fine, so I take a quick shower and grab a cup of coffee before accompanying Sharon and her boys to the park. It’s only two blocks away, but I check with Mason because I’m not sure what his protocol would be for leaving the house. When he texts to let me know they have Sharon’s ex under surveillance and he’s not even in the state, I relax and take a seat on the park bench.
It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours since I left Ayda’s, but I really want to hear her voice. I call her phone, but get her voice mail. She’s probably still asleep.
The day drags by. Sharon and her kids don’t need anything from me but to be present, so I spend most of my time researching the Coulters, the judge, and the dancer who’s responsible for Ayda’s pain.
When everyone is in bed for the night, I check my phone one last time and see Ayda still hasn’t called. When I call her phone, it only rings twice, then goes to voicemail, which means she rejected the call and sent me to voicemail. What the hell?
The next two days seem to last a week. Ayda continues to ignore my calls and texts and all I want to do is get home and see what the hell went wrong since I left her apartment Friday morning. I’m in my car and on the highway minutes after Alex shows to relieve me.
Ayda’s car isn’t in the parking lot when I return, and like a whipped bitch, I spend most of the day peeking out the window, watching for her to get back. I’m in a pissed off mood by that night when Landon shows up.
“Hey, asshole. I thought you were coming to work today. Did the job for Mason last longer than you expected?” he asks, helping himself to a beer from my fridge.
“Guess I forgot,” I grumble, flipping through a hundred channels of shit on the T.V.
“Uh-huh.” He stares at me, trying not to grin. “And would this new winning attitude have anything to do with the chick you brought to Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Nope, just a reaction to the sight of your ugly face. Where’s your fiancée? She get sick of you already?”
“I wore her out, put her out of commission for the night.” Landon sits back and props his foot on his knee. “So, you fuck her yet?”
“Are you trying to get your ass kicked? Because there are easier ways.”
Landon laughs. “This woman has really got to you, hasn’t she?”
Fuck. “We fucked and now she won’t talk to me.”
“What did you do?”
“Hell if I know. Everything was fine when I left, but she won’t return my calls or texts.”
“And you haven’t just bullied your way into her apartment to confront her?”
“She hasn’t been home.”
“Well, she lives next door. She can’t ignore you forever.”
“What’s going on with the new forum? Was Justus able to infiltrate?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Yeah, he’s in, but I’m not sure it’s a good thing. He’s really hyped up about this one for some reason. You know how he gets. It’s a big ring of human traffickers, encompassing three states, so we can’t screw this one up or go all vigilante. We need to cover our bases and make sure we can safely report it to the police. We’re having trouble nailing down all the addresses, which is why I’m here. Justus could use some help.”
I can’t spend all my time stalking the parking lot for Ayda when I should be working. “Give me a minute to get my shit together and I’ll follow you over.”
Justus and Jeremy are sitting at their computers, typing away when I arrive. Landon walks in just ahead of me and announces, “I found him mooning over the girl next door.”
Jeremy and Justus break into laughter. “Don’t make me stuff you into a tanning bed,” I growl.
“Prison has made you very unpleasant,” he laughs.
That’s when you know you’re close friends, when you can use a horrific disease and terrible prison stint to insult each other and laugh over it.
Dragging a chair over to sit beside Justus, I stare at the screen. “Fill me in on what I missed.” We spend half the night working, Justus chatting with the traffickers, pretending to be an interested customer who’s shopping for the perfect girl while I try to nail down the IP addresses. These guys are pros, and know how to conceal themselves well. A little after three a.m. the screen goes blank.
“What the fuck?” Justus shouts, slamming his fists on the desk.
“What happened?” Jeremy asks, approaching us.
“They shut it down! Fuck! I was so close!” Justus paces the room, clutching the back of his head.
It’s disappointing because we know they haven’t shut down the operation, only moved it to a new location. They suspect something’s up. I don’t know if it’s us they suspect or if something else alarmed them. If they aren’t suspicious of Justus, they’ll get in touch, since they won’t want to let a serious buyer go, but if we triggered the move, we may never find them again. Sadly, it’s not the first time it’s happened.
“Are you still connected on the gaming profile?” Jeremy asks, and Justus rushes back to his computer.
“So far.” It’s another way traffickers can communicate, using chat and messaging from large MMORPG games. They aren’t generally watched the way other avenues are.
“Give it a day and see what happens,” Landon suggests, trying to calm Justus.
“In the meantime, I need your help with something,” I tell him. I spend the next few minutes explaining what happened to Ayda and what I intend to do about it.
Justus’s grin would chill the blood of the average man, but I’m happy to see it. “We’re going to fuck them up,” he promises.
It’s nearly four in the morning when I get home and fall into bed. Ayda’s car is in the parking lot, but her apartment is quiet. As much as I want to bust in and demand to know what her problem is, I’m not going to wake her. She’ll think I’m a psycho. I’m sure I’ll catch her tomorrow.
The ringing of my phone wakes me up and my sister’s perky voice greets me when I answer. “Derek! Hi, I got your message. Sorry, it took me a while to call back. I’ve been busy.”
“College kicking your ass?” I tease.
“As usual. I found a great study group, though. And I met a guy.”
She sounds so happy, it puts a smile on my face. “What’s the dude’s name and how far do I have to drive to kick his ass?”
She giggles. “His name is Jake, and you aren’t kicking anything. He’s a real sweet guy. You’ll like him.”
“Are you bringing him home for Christmas?”
There’s a pause before she replies, “That’s kind of what I’m calling about. I’m not coming back for Christmas. There’s a big party here I want to go to.”
I can’t blame her. She’s young and full of life, and there’s nothing here for her anymore. “Be careful and don’t drink anything that’s been out of your sight,” I warn.
“I’m always careful. I promise I’ll come and visit soon, okay?”
“You’d better. Don’t make me come up there.”
“I gotta go. Love ya.”
“Love you.” I barely have the words out and she’s already hung up. A smile stretches across my face. She’s having fun, living her life and enjoying herself. It’s everything I wanted for her, and hearing how happy she is makes my time behind bars worth it.
I drag my ass out of bed, stopping to see if Ayda’s car is parked outside before jumping in the shower. She’s gone again. For a woman who works at home, she sure is gone a lot lately. Is she trying to avoid me, or is it just coincidence?
It’s late afternoon when I meet the guys back at ISH, and I find everyone in a better mood than last night. Someone messaged Justus through the gaming site with the link of the new forum, so apparently we weren’t the threat they were worried about. He has also gathered some information for me.
“This guy is a real dickhole,” he says. “And he gets it honestly. His father is just as bad. I called in a favor and managed to get the senator’s private email, and I was able to get into his personal computer. It’s full of porn, but most of it is man on man, and some may be underage. He has some amateur stuff featuring him and two boys who look a little young for eighteen. Even if they are legal, this guy is a republican and campaigns with an anti-gay platform.”
“You’re thinking the best thing to do is go public? Splash it all over the tabloids?” We’ve never gone that direction before.
“It’s a start.”
“It’s more than a start. I got the senator’s bank records and Talbot’s. Talbot has been charged four times in the past ten years. Twice for sexual assault, and twice for aggravated assault. All four times, Judge Dalton has been assigned the case. Four times the charges have been dismissed for lack of evidence. A few days before each charge, a hundred grand was transferred into the judge’s account. The first three were sent from the senator’s account, the last one from Talbot’s. There’s no doubt they’ve been paying him off.”