Flame

by Romig, Aleatha

  Of course, she didn’t know that. She didn’t know anything of what was happening.

  “Ruby,” I said calmly. It took three times. Finally she looked up.

  They say there are moments when the world stops spinning. It’s often associated with love at first sight, a carnal, physical type of love. As my eyes met hers, my world stopped spinning. The overwhelming emotion was unlike even that I’d felt for her mother. It wasn’t romantic but agape—an unconditional love that knew no bounds.

  Blue eyes such as I saw in my own reflection peered up beneath a beautiful head of dark hair.

  The young lady before me was Maddie.

  She was me.

  She was both of us.

  And for the first time, I was staring into her eyes.

  Holstering my gun, I slowly reached out my hand. “Ruby, I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. I know you’re scared. We’re here to take you to your mother.”

  “My mother?”

  “Yes,” I said, nodding. “She is very worried about you.”

  “But Andros said my mother would be gone for a while.”

  My lips moved upward—despite what she was saying, despite that she was more familiar with Andros Ivanov than me—at the sound of her voice. “He was right. Things have changed.” I opened and closed my fingers. “Please come with us.”

  Her wide eyes peered around the windows, some shattered and the others riddled with bullet holes. “Who are you?”

  “I’m a friend of your mother’s,” I replied.

  She tilted her head as she looked me up and down. “My mother doesn’t have friends. Are you a friend of Andros?”

  “No, I’m afraid I’m not.” I couldn’t lie to her at our first meeting.

  “Did you...?” She peered around. “Is Mr. Hillman...dead?”

  “I’m afraid so, Ruby. I’m sorry that had to happen with you—”

  “He killed Oleg,” she blurted out.

  It was then that she began to cry, sobs bubbling from her chest as she laid her head on the back of the seat in front of her.

  I didn’t know Oleg, but I knew genuine grief when I saw it.

  “I-I saw him do it.” She turned my way. “I-I was afraid he’d kill me.”

  My hand was still extended. The Houston Sparrows were shielding the bodies of Hillman and his partner as best as they could. “I’m sorry about Oleg. Your mother said he was a good man. Come with me, Ruby. Hillman can’t hurt you now.”

  She began to move and stopped. “How do I know that you know my mom?”

  “You choose to believe me,” I offered.

  “You killed them. You’re murderers.”

  I nodded. “We did and are, to save you.”

  “Tell me my mom’s name.”

  Any other question. I took a breath as I considered the real answer, Madeline Kelly. “When I met your mother,” I began, “her name was Madeline Alycia Tate. Today she goes by the last name Miller.”

  Ruby sat taller. “You know her middle name?”

  “Yes, her middle name is after her mother.”

  Ruby scooted from the car, still apprehensive. “Are you going to take me back to Andros?”

  “No,” I said as she came closer. I wanted nothing more than to reach out and hold her, but I knew it wouldn’t make sense. “No, we’re going to take you someplace safe, and if I have my way, your mother will be there very soon.”

  She stopped and narrowed her blue eyes. “You knew Mom before I was born?”

  “I did.”

  “And since?”

  “We lost touch for a while. I’m happy I can be here to help you and her.”

  “How can I believe you?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. Ask me something else about her. I’ll try to answer.”

  She thought for a minute. “Do you know that she has a tattoo?”

  A rush of heat ran up my neck to my cheeks. “An apple. Now will you come with us?”

  She looked around the empty road. My men were standing by our cars. Romero had a t-shirt wrapped around his arm, saturated with blood. The Houston Sparrows were standing in front of the bodies.

  “What will happen to them?” she asked, nodding her chin toward what she could see of the bodies.

  “We’ll leave them.”

  “Won’t someone find them?”

  Madeline was right. Ruby was smart and inquisitive. However, I would have preferred that our first question-and-answer session didn’t involve the proper disposal of dead bodies. “We’re not far from the border. It won’t take much digging on the part of ICE or the police to learn that at least one of these men has a questionable past. It was probably a drug deal gone bad.”

  She looked from them, to my men, and back to me. “I believe it was a kidnapping. I just hope this still isn’t one.”

  “I will get you to your mother. I promise.”

  “How is she doing?” Sparrow asked, still on the phone.

  “Decent but scared. She’s strong. I was able to get a message to Madeline. Madeline sent one back. Ruby’s been better since then.”

  “One at a time.”

  “Sparrow, I’m getting Madeline, too.”

  “Give me some time.”

  “I don’t know how much time we have. There’s no reason to suspect she’s in danger with Elliott, but damn, I don’t care. I need her in Chicago. Ruby will too.”

  “Come back,” he said, “get the test, and we’ll go from there. When you arrive, take her to one.”

  My neck straightened. “Two.”

  One was the floor of the Sparrow outfit that was the least secure. It was where our workers and capos came and went. It was where we held meetings with members of other factions. Two was where only we, the top of the Sparrow chain, frequented. The three men with me on this assignment had never been to two.

  “Fuck,” Sparrow replied. “Apartments then. Dr. Dixon will be in the common area. I’ll try to keep the crowd to a minimum, but the three women are...just get here.”

  I could only imagine how Sparrow, Mason, and Reid’s wives were reacting to the news that I was a father, news their husbands had known for a few days. “Why Dr. Dixon?”

  “She can check Ruby out, be sure Hillman didn’t...do anything, and initiate the DNA test. She’ll do a saliva quick test, but the blood test is more accurate.”

  “Fine,” I said. “We’re on our way.”

  Madeline

  I’d stalled as long as I could. The sun had set, filling the sky above the ranch with a twinkling of stars. Andros had arrived to the ranch hours ago, and he and Marion were waiting for me downstairs. Eloise had come to my door three times now. The first time, I informed her that I was too distraught over Ruby to go to dinner. She returned a quarter of an hour later with a tray, insisting that I try to eat. The last visit was to inform me of Mr. Elliott and Mr. Ivanov’s location and impatience.

  I didn’t give a shit about their impatience. If I didn’t believe Andros would come after me, I would wait until tomorrow. The truth was that I wasn’t actually distraught over Ruby. I had a myriad of things to cause me distress. Ruby wasn’t one of them, not since I’d received Patrick’s message and briefly corresponded with my daughter.

  Her email asked if Patrick was really my friend. That must be the description he gave her. My reply was truthful. He was my very first friend and was still a dear friend. After I sent the message, I reflected on that reality.

  The most important thing to me was that our daughter was safe. They were on their way back to Chicago and away from here.

  Would I ever be with them?

  My reasoning for my lack of appetite wasn’t Ruby but the bombshell revelation that engulfed my life in flames. For only a few days it appeared as if Ruby and I had made it to the other side. I’d lived through hell and survived in the flames of purgatory only to be thrown back into the furnace.

  I’d said thank you to Andros the night he purchased me; Marion was not receiving the same gratitude. The m
emory of the night I met Andros twisted my stomach as I recalled the room full of eyes. I now knew for certain the names of three of those sets. I’d never forget the name of the senator. Recently, I saw a news story about him being associated with a human-trafficking ring. For weeks I searched the news for updates as I wondered how many of his victims knew his name.

  I wouldn’t have known if I’d have given birth in the cell or upstairs or whatever they did. I wouldn’t know if I’d been placed back down in that cellar, or in a similar hell, after Ruby’s birth. I probably would have died.

  How many had?

  Why hadn’t I?

  The longer I paced the bedroom at Marion’s home, the more questions I had. They were questions I’d never before sought to answer. Perhaps it was my knowledge that Ruby was safe. Maybe it was my utter disgust for the men downstairs. Or there was the possibility that I was done.

  Ruby was safe and with her father.

  I was tired of fighting.

  I was tired of living as a commodity.

  I’d willingly die before I took on that role with Marion Elliott.

  As I perused the clothes hanging in the closet, I made a decision.

  “Fuck you both, you all...” I said, thinking of the other numerous men in that room and the men who found sick pleasure in screwing filthy young girls. I supposed it gave them a real rush of superiority. They were better than us. They could dominate a child.

  “Fuck you,” I said aloud to no one.

  It was cathartic. I said it again and again until I was doubled over in a fit of laughter.

  Perhaps the real assessment was that after all this time I had gone mad.

  If I were mad, I was going to share my newfound mental freedom.

  The closet contained an assortment of dresses—short, middle length, and long. It was as if whoever had made these clothing choices believed that I’d willingly accompany my new owner to his social engagements. My fingertips brushed the different materials as I surveyed the various styles.

  Removing a hanger from the rack, a smile came to my lips. “My name is Madeline Kelly and I’m done being invisible.”

  Thirty minutes later, I descended the grand staircase, the one I’d been shown earlier this morning. My head was held high. My hair was styled back with crystal combs I’d found in the bathroom drawers. Upon my feet were jewel-encrusted high heels complete with the designer name under my sole. It was the dress that I was certain would garner my audience’s attention.

  What neither of the men realized was that their bargaining chip was gone. In this game of poker, they were out of aces. Andros held me in my place for seventeen years with one ace in his pocket.

  They had no idea how far I would go to fuck them both over.

  My high heels tapped across the tile of the entry as I recalled Eloise’s instructions.

  “Mr. Elliott and Mr. Ivanov are in the library. If you don’t remember, it’s down the hallway to the right at the bottom of the stairs, next to Mr. Elliott’s office.”

  His office—the place where he told me the truth, the place he declared his proprietorship. Yes, I knew that room.

  Marion’s and Andros’s voices came into range as I neared. The door was slightly ajar. I stopped as I approached, my stomach knotting as my nose scrunched. The scent of rich cigar smoke wafted from the room.

  Willing the memories away, I moved forward, opened the door, and stood in the threshold. “Good evening, gentlemen. I believe your attraction has arrived.”

  The red dress I’d found was brighter than the ribbon. Of course, the ribbon was old and faded. This dress had a skirt whose hem fell above my knees and a bodice that scooped low, revealing the rounded tops of my breasts. The sleeves were capped and the back dipped low, forbidding the wearing of a traditional bra. The ribbon was secured around my wrist, tied in a large bow.

  Their discussion stalled as they both stared my direction. Marion was the first to stand—as if I believed either of these men were gentlemen.

  “You…look,” Marion stammered, “I-I expected—”

  Me to be broken?

  No, motherfucker, I’d been broken. Now I was visible.

  Each man held a small tumbler of an amber liquid.

  If we were going to relive our past, I was rewriting the script. Walking across the wood flooring near the roaring fire, I found the crystal decanter. With a brightly painted grin, I poured myself a glass and took a healthy sip. The bourbon coated my tongue and throat in warmth, giving me liquid strength. With a feigned grin, I sat in one of the leather chairs near the fire and crossed my ankles. “Tell me where my daughter is. Tell me how you plan on rescuing her.”

  “Madeline,” Andros began, “Hillman brought assets to the bratva. I believed...” His dead eyes came to mine. “I was wrong about him. He’s dead. And my men are tracking all flights from the area. We’ll learn something soon.”

  “Dead? At your doing?”

  “All that matters is that he’s dead.”

  I took another drink. “No, what matters, who matters is Ruby. She has always been all that mattered.” I placed my drink on the table beside the chair. “Gentlemen, I believe we’re all gamblers.”

  They both stared.

  “I have a wager.”

  The rumble of nervous laughter filled the air.

  “I wager me,” I said.

  “You can’t wager what isn’t yours,” Elliott said.

  “Oh, you see, but I can. We live in a brand-new world. Gentlemen’s agreements involving forced servitude are frowned upon. As a matter of fact, that same little issue has brought down those wealthier than either of you as well as royalty. I believe it would be a misjudgment on your part to suppose you’re immune.”

  Marion sat back and crossed his ankle over his knee. “Remember the story I told you about my wife and daughter?”

  “Yes.”

  “I told you what it takes to keep things from the press. Social media is no different.”

  “Hmm,” I said. “It is. The press thirty years ago was dominated by news outlets. Today one tweet can go viral in seconds.”

  “I’m offering you more than the agreement,” Marion said. “I’m offering more than what Andros did.”

  Offering me, as if he were giving me a choice.

  I turned to Andros and shrugged. “We had our ups and downs, but I can honestly say that my and Ruby’s needs never went unmet.” I turned back to Marion. “What exactly do you propose you can offer above what Andros did?”

  As I spoke Andros’s one cheek rose—his amused expression. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing, but I had his attention.

  “Marriage,” Marion replied. “As I said, I had plans for a more gentlemanly approach to the subject. The unfortunate business with Ruby caused a detour in those plans.”

  I fiddled with the faded ribbon, tied into a bow on my right wrist. Pulling one end, I released the ribbon. Lifting it between my thumb and finger I allowed it to dangle. Only looking up with my eyes, I said, “Gentlemanly.” Wadding the ribbon into a clump, I tossed it into the fire. The flames grew as the symbol of my servitude disintegrated before our eyes. “Marion, most men who are interested in marriage offer a ring, not a seventeen-year-old ribbon. The ribbon is ashes and so are your plans, I’m afraid.”

  It was as if I didn’t speak. He continued, “You will have whatever ring you desire—ten carats or more.”

  “So let me get this straight. Instead of binding me with a ribbon, you want to bind me with a diamond. Will I be clothed when I’m introduced to your friends?”

  Marion’s face reddened. “This isn’t—”

  “The deal is complete,” Andros said. “His use of the word offer is merely for conversation. An offer was made to me and I accepted. Your fate was sealed a long time ago. Marion has known your secret as long as I. He’s kept it. I respect that.”

  “He’s kept that I was bought after being on display—”

  Andros’s head shook. “No. That wasn’t a secret.
The secret was your worth, but more importantly, your child’s worth that has remained unknown to most.”

  I sat forward, no longer as confident in my wager. “My worth is that I’m done being owned. I don’t care what deal the two of you made. I refuse.”

  The two men looked from one to the other. It was Andros who sat forward with his elbows on his knees. “Did you ever wonder why I would pay one million dollars for a damaged, pregnant, and uneducated commodity?”

  With each of his descriptors my neck straightened and the small hairs on my neck and arms came to life. It wasn’t that his depiction was inaccurate, but more that hearing the truth was painful.

  When I didn’t reply, Andros went on, “I gambled on a son.”

  “Why? My child wasn’t yours. You have never even suggested Ruby take your name.”

  “It was about her parentage,” he said. “Sometimes the most valuable weapon is one that stays hidden.”

  “Parentage,” I repeated. “Her father? I never told you.”

  Andros laughed as he sat back and lifted his tumbler to his lips. Once he set the crystal down upon the table, he smiled. “I didn’t care. Now that I know, it’s humorous.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Marion stood. “Little lady, it isn’t Ruby’s father we care about. The senator didn’t care about him.” He came closer and lifted his glass. “It’s your father.”

  My head jerked back as my skin tingled. “My father was no one. My mother was no one. They were everyday people with nowhere jobs. They didn’t even have a will or make provisions for their daughter.”

  “Their daughter wasn’t meant to survive. According to the senator, you were supposed to be in the car.”

  I began to speak, but Marion continued, “After that, you were lost in the foster care system. As soon as you were found, you would run away or move. The belief was that you’d died, and then one day you completed the paperwork for Dr. Miller. You used Tate as your last name, and listed your mother with the unique name of Alycia.”

  I lifted my hand to my throat as my eyes closed. The necklace was upstairs. It was better; this wasn’t a conversation I wanted overheard. Images came back from seventeen years ago. I remembered those forms. Kristine had told me to not add Patrick. I hadn’t. I’d completed them as Madeline Tate.