Desolation

by Bella Jewel

  I giggle softly. “I’ll run it.”

  I walk out into the hall and run right into Maddox. His hands shoot up to my shoulders and gently push me back. His beautiful eyes scan over me, and I flush when I realize he’s only in his boxers.

  “Ah, sorry, Maddox.”

  He chuckles. “No problem, honey. How’re you feelin’?”

  “I’m okay.”

  He stares behind him, and then leans down. “You serious about that? Because what happened last night was fucked up, and you don’t have to feel good about it.”

  I swallow and look up at him. “It wasn’t nice, but Maddox . . . I’ve had so much worse.”

  His eyes flare. “If some fucker raped you, I’ll find them and fuckin’ gut them.”

  I smile; I can’t help it. I love his passion. It’s not a wonder Maddox runs his club with such ease. He might be sweet to the girls in his life, but I’ve seen him in action. He can be terrifying when he wants to be.

  “No, nothing like that. I just . . . I’ve had heartache.”

  He reaches out and cups my jaw. “You ever wanna tell me about that, you can. You know that right?”

  I nod. “I know, Maddox.”

  “You don’t have to suffer alone.”

  I’ve not told them about my time with Artreau. They know the basics—they know I was a slave, that I was hungry, and had been beaten here and there, but they don’t know the horror I saw. They’ve asked, of course, but I don’t want Santana to ever have to live with that guilt, and if I tell her that’s what will happen.

  I nod and he smiles. “Tyke still in there?”

  I flush.

  “I heard him steal my fuckin’ key and sneak in there. Figured if you didn’t want him in there, you would say so. He’s the only man I’d let in your room.”

  I smile nervously. “Yes, he’s still there. I’m running him a bath. His legs are sore.”

  Maddox frowns. “Yeah, he ran like a fuckin’ mental dude last night. Nothing was going to stop him.”

  “Well, he’s hurt himself, so I’m going to help him.”

  Maddox nods. “All right. Well, come down when you want breakfast.”

  I duck past him with a muttered thanks, and step into the bathroom. I draw a hot bath and turn to get Tyke, only to see him step into the bathroom. He’s wearing only boxers, too. I’ve never seen him in so little, and I swallow. My eyes move down his broad chest, over his narrow hips, and stop at the clear bulge in his pants. I jerk backwards, and turn away with hot cheeks. Instead, I focus on his legs. I’ve never seen his legs—he’s always been in jeans—and now I can, I see the scars that marr them.

  “That looks like it was painful,” I whisper.

  He follows my gaze and mutters, “It was.”

  “Well,” I say quickly. “I ran a bath and . . .”

  He steps forward, stopping me. “Little one, I know I’ve said it, but I want to say it again. I’m sorry about last night.”

  I look up into his eyes. “I know you are.”

  He leans down and I think he’s going to kiss my head, but instead he brushes the lightest kiss over my lips. My entire body goes rigid and I stop breathing as his soft lips caress mine before he pulls back and steps past me. I walk out numbly, fingers to my mouth. He just kissed me. Why did he just kiss me? I don’t understand.

  I walk down the stairs, still in a daze, but stop when I see everyone is here. Well, the usual’s, anyway—Mack and Jaylah, and their two boys, Diesel and Jack, as well as Krypt and Ash, with their twins Phoenix and Quinton. I squirm as all their eyes turn to me. It’s Jaylah who bounces up and rushes towards me, throwing her arms around me.

  “I just heard what happened. Are you okay?”

  I adore Jaylah; she’s bubbly and funny and cute. She’s the kind of girl I love having around. I pull back and force a smile. “I’m okay.”

  Ash stands and comes over, her gray eyes searching mine. She reaches out and takes my shoulders. “You had us worried.”

  I smile at her; I adore Ash as much as Jaylah. These girls are like my sisters, and the only members of the club that I’ve gotten close to. They’ve tried to take me out a few times, but I struggle with them. Not because I don’t love them, but because they’re so much louder than me and I don’t want to cramp their style.

  “I’m doing just fine. I just came down to get some painkillers for Tyke.”

  Their faces crack into wide grins.

  “Tyke is in your room?” Santana calls, bouncing Molly on her hip.

  “Ah, yeah, he, ah . . .” I flush and turn away.

  “Did he sleep with you?” Jaylah giggles.

  “Oi,” Mack growls at his wife. “Stop being a pain in the ass and leave her alone.”

  Jaylah pokes her tongue out at him, and Ash wraps an arm around my shoulder. “So does this mean Handy Andi is gone?”

  I giggle softly at her nickname for Andi. She calls her that, because Andi thinks she knows everything. If there’s a light bulb broken, Andi can fix it; if Tyke’s chair breaks, Andi thinks she has it covered. She sucks at it all, of course, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. So she got handed the name Handy Andi.

  “No, we’re just friends,” I say.

  Ash frowns. “Boo hoo, that’s no fun.”

  “Leave her be, woman,” Krypt grunts from the table.

  Ash turns and flips him the bird just as Phoenix comes tearing into the room. The twins are the liveliest little boys I’ve ever met. Phoenix looks exactly like his daddy, and Quinn, his momma. Phoenix runs towards me and he slams into my legs, making me take a step backwards.

  “Hey there, little man.” I smile. “Are you behaving?”

  He simply giggles, not old enough to form complete sentences, and charges off.

  “Slow down there, boy,” Maddox yells at his nephew.

  “How’re the boys going?” I ask Ash.

  She rolls her eyes, and then grabs her hair. “Are you seeing this gray hair?”

  She has none, of course. “You don’t have gray hair,” I scoff.

  “It’s coming; I can feel it.”

  With that, she runs after her boys. Jaylah’s boys, Jack and Diesel, are playing at Mack’s feet. They’re good kids, but that’s because Mack doesn’t let them get away with any bad behavior. It’s his heritage; he’s a good guy.

  “Well, I’m just getting some painkillers.” I rush past Jaylah and into the kitchen. I wrap an arm around Santana’s waist and squeeze her, before kissing Molly’s cheek. “Hey Tana,” I whisper.

  She turns and wraps her free arm around me. “You worried me last night, Pippi. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I nod. “I’m okay.”

  “All right. Well, you will tell me if you want to talk, right?”

  I nod again. “Of course.”

  I grab some painkillers and toast, and rush back up the stairs. Tyke is sitting on the bed when I get in, finished with his bath.

  “How’re your legs feeling?” I ask, rushing over. He’s wearing only his boxers again.

  “A little better.”

  “Here.” I hand him the goods, and he swallows the painkillers.

  “I have this cream; it’s good for muscles,” I say hesitantly. “I can rub it on your legs . . . if you like.”

  His eyes flash to mine. “You want to rub my legs?”

  I laugh unexpectedly and he grins.

  “All right, little one, go for it.”

  I stand and find my purse, then I pull out my muscle cream. I’ve used it on my own muscles before, because sometimes they hurt. I don’t know why and neither do the doctors, but it helps. I walk back over and kneel in front of Tyke, then I squeeze some cream onto my palm and gently press it to his skin. He flinches.

  “Does this hurt?” I say softly.

  He shakes his head. “Nah.”

  He’s lying, but I don’t stop. I gently rub the cream in and slowly grip his muscles, moving over them in slow, deep circles. Tyke grunts, in pain or pleasure I don�
�t know. He shifts a little and I go off into a world all on my own, rubbing the cream into his skin, up and over his calves, over his knees and to his thighs.

  When I move up, I realize that he’s . . . oh . . . oh gosh. My cheeks burn and I pretend I don’t notice, but I did . . . I do. He’s hard. He’s . . . aroused. There’s a solid rise in his boxers and he’s looking to his left, his jaw so tight he looks angry. I remove my hands and stumble backwards, losing my balance and landing on my ass. Tyke turns and then moves quickly, reaching down and taking my hand, pulling me up. Then we both lose our balance, and I topple backwards again, only this time he comes with me. He stops his body crushing mine by putting his hands down. I gasp and squirm, but stop quickly when I feel the hard pressure between my thighs. That’s him. Oh God, that’s him. I stop breathing, he stops breathing, and our eyes meet.

  “Pippa,” he rasps.

  I open my mouth to say more, but a throat is cleared in the doorway. Our heads swing around and see Krypt standing in the space, smirking. Tyke pushes off me and turns, jerking his jeans on. I scramble up to my feet and look anywhere but at Krypt, who is no doubt enjoying the scene presented in front of him.

  “You two having fun?” he asks.

  “I, ah . . .” I swallow and rush towards the door. “I have to go home.”

  I run out before he can say anything else. I rush down the stairs, and blurt to Maddox, “Can you take me home?”

  He narrows his eyes. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m just tired.”

  He studies me, then shrugs and stands, grabbing his keys. I say a quick goodbye to everyone, and just as we’re walking out the door, Tyke and Krypt appear. Tyke is fully dressed, his cut fitting snugly on his shoulders. Our eyes meet and my cheeks burn. I turn quickly and rush out. I don’t know what happened, but it was . . . nice.

  Maddox throws me a helmet when we reach his bike, and I pull it on, climbing onto the bike behind him. I wrap my arms around his waist, and close my eyes, and he zooms off.

  It doesn’t take him long to arrive at my apartment, and I quickly climb off. I’m about to rush inside, but there’s a question I have wanted to ask Maddox for a while now. I don’t know if it’s appropriate, considering what he and Santana have already done for me, but a huge part of me needs to know.

  “Hey Maddox?” I ask.

  He leans against his bike and crosses his arms. “Yeah?”

  “I wanted to ask . . . I mean, I know you’ve done enough for me and—”

  “Pippa, spit it out, honey.”

  I nod and swallow. “There was a guy that was at the, ah, tobacco farm when I was there. He got taken before I left, but . . . he was . . . he was my friend. I just wanted to, ah . . .”

  “You want to know if he’s still alive?”

  I look up at him. “Yes.”

  “You got a name?”

  I blink. “Pardon?”

  “A name? His name.”

  “Oh, his name is Rainer Torrence.”

  Maddox nods. “I can look into it, I have a lot of information about the slaves Artreau was running. I know a few people—I might be able to get the information.”

  “I don’t want you to do anything dangerous, or . . .”

  He steps forward. “Pip, it’s fine. I won’t put anyone in danger.”

  I nod. “O . . . o . . . okay.”

  He smiles. “Go inside and rest up. I’ll send Tana around to check on you later.”

  “Okay.”

  He winks at me and then climbs onto his bike and rides off. When he’s gone, I walk up to my house, my heart still pounding.

  These last few days have been challenging in so many different ways. I’m still not sure if they’re bad ways, or good ways.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THEN – Pippa

  My stomach twists and I press a hand over my mouth, trying not to throw up again. I’m sick. I’m guessing it’s just a stomach virus, but when I’ve got nothing to fall back on, it sucks my life away. I’m already skin and bones—throwing up every meal isn’t helping.

  I am in a cold sweat, curled up by the toilet. The one toilet we all share. If someone needs to use it, I drag myself out and then go back in as soon as they’re done. They have all yelled and told me to stop groaning, but I can’t help it—my stomach hurts so much. Rainer has come in hour after hour, wiping my face with a cool towel. He doesn’t want me to go down and work, but he doesn’t know how I can get out of it.

  The morning light on day one has come in, and is shining through my window. I’m still by the toilet, still retching, when Rainer comes in. He looks down at me, and he furrows his brow. “Jesus, Pippa, you’re sick. I need to figure out how to stop you going out into that sun today.”

  “It’s fine,” I croak. “It’s okay.”

  “No, it isn’t.”

  Before I can protest, he turns and rushes out. I crawl out of the toilet and climb into my bed. I lie my head on the hard pillow, but compared to the floor it’s heaven. I close my eyes, exhaustion and pain taking over. Voices fill my mind, scattering in and out, and then a cool hand touches my face.

  “Pippa?”

  I blink my eyes open and see Rainer leaning over me. His face is concerned.

  “I’m sorry,” I croak. “I’m coming.”

  “No, you can stay here.”

  Those words wake me up more, and I whisper, “What?”

  “It’s fine. I got permission for you to stay here until you’re better.”

  No one gets to just laze about in Artreau’s home. No one. I study Rainer’s face. “What did you do?”

  “Pippa, it’s nothing you need to worry about. Just rest, get better.”

  “Rainer . . .”

  He leans down and kisses my head. “Hush, get to sleep. I’ll lock the door so no one bothers you. I’ll talk to you later.”

  Before I can answer, he disappears. I want to argue, but my body is so weak I fall back into a deep sleep before I even hear the front door slam.

  ~*~*~*~

  Two days I lie in that bed, tired and worn. When I wake on the third morning, I see that most of the slaves are already up and about. I glance around, panic gripping my chest. I’ve been out a long time, and I know that would have come at a cost. I just don’t know what that cost is yet.

  I climb out of bed and shower quickly, then manage to eat a piece of dried bread Rainer left at my bedside table. Then I dress. My body is aching and sore, but I can’t afford another day sleeping. Each day I’m gone, Rainer no doubt suffers. I make my way out to the crops, each step proving to be harder than I thought.

  The sun burns my skin, its heat sinking deep into my flesh as I walk down the rows to find Rainer. He’s standing at the end of the paddock, staring out at the massive fence preventing our escape. He’s slightly hunched over, and it surprises me that he hasn’t heard me approaching. I walk up and gently place my hand on his shoulder. He flinches and turns . . . slowly.

  So slowly I immediately become worried.

  “Rainer,” I whisper. “Are you okay?”

  He forces a trembling smile, and he whispers, “Yeah, Pip, I’m fine.”

  He’s lying. It’s written all over his face.

  “You’re lying,” I breathe. “What did he do to you?”

  Oh God. Has he been hurt because of me?

  I couldn’t bear it.

  “He didn’t do anything,” he says. “Are you feeling better?”

  I narrow my eyes. “I’m okay. Rainer, please, if you’re hurt . . .”

  He cuts me off with the slow wave of his hand. “I’m fine, Pippa. Let’s get this work done.”

  He doesn’t speak much to me as we work, and his movements are slow and pained. His face is scrunched in pain the entire time he works. Artreau has done something; I just don’t know what it is. I follow behind Rainer—a guard quickly attached me to him as soon as I was sighted unattached.

  When the afternoon sun falls, and the cool breeze trickles through the trees,
I help Rainer back up to the house. The guards shove us all towards our rooms, and the moment we’re in and unclipped, Rainer disappears into the bathroom, barking at everyone else to move. Something is really wrong, and the moment I hear him vomiting I decide I’m done holding back.

  I run towards the bathroom and shove the door open. Rainer is over the toilet, vomiting. He cries out in agony every single time he retches, and I’m struggling to understand. I rush over and take the towel I used this morning to shower. I wet it and gently place it against his face. He flinches but doesn’t move. He just keeps holding onto the toilet for dear life.

  “Rainer?” I whisper.

  He doesn’t answer. I place my hand on his back and he roars, literally roars, in pain. I jerk my hand away, and that’s when I see that his shirt is sticking oddly to his skin. I kneel down, and gently take the hem of his shirt. He tries to turn, barking at me to stop, but I don’t. I lift it and gasp out loud. His skin, which was once smooth, is now covered in angry lashes. Pieces of his flesh are peeled back, he’s been hit so many times.

  A strangled sob is ripped from my throat as I rasp, “Th . . . th . . . th . . . th . . . this was for me?”

  “No,” Rainer whispers. “I smart-mouthed him.”

  “You’re lying,” I scream. “Don’t lie to me.”

  His body shakes in anguish and he whispers, “Twenty lashes for each day you were sick.”

  “No,” I croak, reeling backwards. “Rainer, no.”

  He turns, reaching out for me but his face is scrunched in pain. “I would do it all over again.”

  “No,” I cry, standing and turning. I run towards the door.

  “Pippa!”

  I charge out and past the other slaves who are mostly ignoring my outburst. I reach the door and bang my fists over and over on it. I scream and yell until a guard opens the door and glares down at me.

  “Take me to him,” I cry. “Take me now!”

  “Pippa don’t!” Rainer yells from the bathroom, but he doesn’t make it to me in time.

  The guard pulls me out of the room and slams the door shut, locking it.

  I have no idea what my plan is, but I won’t leave my friend in pain.

  Not when he saved me.