Daisy (Archer's Creek Book 2)

by Gemma Weir

  The shiny black paintwork on Carduccio’s car glistens in the Texas sun and we follow at a discreet distance, occasionally diverting down side roads only to catch up with them again a block later. The two SUV’s take a right off Maple and a prickle of unease pulses through me.

  We follow the cars along the suburban streets until they slow to a stop outside a familiar house. My heart starts to pound in my chest. Blade and I ride straight past the cars, not slowing or showing any indication that we aren’t simply heading in the same direction. We park around the corner and Blade turns to me, confusion etched across his face. “Whose house is that?”

  I scrub my hand over my face before I reply. “The Mayor’s.”

  They say silence is golden, but sometimes it’s the quiet moments that cause the most pain.

  After my father visited my room, he insisted that I cook breakfast and then sent me upstairs to ‘clean myself up’. Standing in my bathroom, I watch my mama’s reflection in the mirror as she applies enough makeup to disguise the bruises on my face. “Mama, do you know who these guests are? Why would I need to be there? He doesn’t normally introduce me to anyone.”

  My mama pointedly looks down at the makeup sponge in her hands and avoids making eye contact with me. “Mama?”

  She finally looks up, a sad smile on her face. “I don’t know who they are, just that they’re important people.”

  My mama is not a good liar, and I know she’s not telling me everything. She finishes my makeup and I look into the mirror. My skin looks flawless; the bruises are hidden, and I look fresh and beautiful. Appalled, I turn away from my reflection. It’s a lie, a façade, and I can’t stand to look at it for another minute.

  My eyes drift to my mama. From a distance she still looks the part of the perfect mayor’s wife. Blonde hair cut into a sleek bob, perfect makeup, and an omnipresent beauty queen smile. It isn’t until you look closely that you can see the cracks in her mask. She’s still a beautiful woman, but her eyes are dull and not even the artfully applied makeup can hide what the years of sadness and abuse have done to her. Her tiny frame is elegantly dressed in a silk dress and matching shoes, and she never looks less than perfect. But beneath the hair, clothes, and makeup, is a frightened, beaten-down shell created by my asshole of a father.

  Her hands shake as she undoes the braid in my hair and brushes it until it falls across my shoulders in soft waves. I turn to face her and grasp her frail fingers in my hands. “Mama, I don’t want this life for us. I don’t want to spend years covering up the bruises that man gives me. Let’s run away and find a new happy life, where we don’t have to be scared of being hurt or punished. Nicole got away from him and so can we. We can start over somewhere no one knows who we are. Let me take care of you, Mama. I want to see you smile a real smile for once. I want to see happiness in your eyes, not the emptiness that’s in there now. Please? We can go tonight. I can pack a bag now and by tomorrow we could be free. Please, Mama.”

  She weakly squeezes my fingers back for a second and then pulls her hands free from mine. “Angelique, I’m sure I don’t know where you get your imagination from. Your daddy loves us, why on earth would we want to leave him? It’s his job to look after us and he does; look at this beautiful house we live in and all the wonderful things we have. Soon you’ll find a husband of your own and all this silliness will be forgotten. You’ll start a family and have daughters of your own. My life is perfect. I couldn’t want anything more.”

  I stare at my mama in shock. I don’t honestly know if she believes the words that had just fallen from her lips. Fear, stark and real, builds in my chest until I struggle to pull in oxygen and my vision starts to go black at the corners. Tears spill from my eyes and I shake my head from side to side. “I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want you to live like this. Look at me, Mama. Look what he did to me.”

  Angrily, I pull at the skirt of my dress, lifting it high enough to expose the inflamed red marks that cover the backs of my thighs. “He did this to me. It’s not the first time. He hit me again and again and he enjoyed it.” My voice cracks and I pull in a shaky breath, my fists clenched in the fabric of my dress, my legs still exposed.

  Mama reaches out and pries my fingers loose. The dress falls, and my raw skin is hidden again. My eyes bore into hers and I search for something—anything—to say that she knows this isn’t right. Desperate, I try to find an emotion in her that says she doesn’t want this life, but instead her features remain blank and only her eyes betray her resigned sadness.

  A sob escapes me, and I turn away from her. She’s gone, buried so deep in the bullshit my father has fed her for the last thirty years, that she doesn’t realize that this life is wrong. I’ve lost her. She’s beyond my reach and even though glimpses of my loving, caring mother still exist in her, they’re hidden so deep, I don’t know if I can help her anymore.

  But I can help myself before it’s too late.

  My mother leaves my room without another word. There’s nothing left to say, so I fix my makeup and then sit on my bed and wait. I want to get my laptop out and message Daisy. We’ve only exchanged a handful of emails, but I know that talking to him—even if it’s only through written words—would make me feel better. He makes me feel like there’s a world out there and that maybe I can escape this prison of a life. But I can’t risk my father walking in on me, so instead I sit quietly and plan my escape.

  The doorbell rings a few minutes later and I hear voices and footsteps moving through the foyer and into the family room. A sense of dread pools in my stomach—my father never introduces me to people; honestly, I think a lot of the folk in this town don’t even know I exist. So why does he want me to meet these visitors?

  Several minutes later, my mama pushes open my bedroom door. Her face is taut, and her perfect smile has slipped slightly. “Your daddy would like you to meet some people, so come on downstairs.”

  I silently follow her, trepidation building with every step. When we enter the family room, the conversation halts and all eyes turn to me. I scan the guests. An older man is sat on one side of my father and a petite woman is next to him; on the other side of my father is a younger man who’s openly assessing me. Several large men are standing sentry around the room and the urge to turn and flee is so strong I actually start to move.

  “Angelique, sweetheart,” my father calls, rising from his seat and walking over to me. His meaty arms wrap around my waist and pull me into his chest. I stiffen. He leans down and kisses my forehead and I know my eyes must be comically large.

  “Gentlemen, let me introduce you to my daughter, Angelique. She just turned eighteen and I’m sure you’ll agree she’s the most beautiful young lady you’ve ever seen.”

  My mouth drops open in shock and my father looks down and notices. His hand tightens around my hip and squeezes to the point of pain. I close my mouth and hold my breath to stop the wince of pain escaping me.

  My father releases me but remains standing beside me and I turn my eyes back to the visitors. The older man has risen and is making his way over to me. He’s not that tall, maybe five feet ten, with a lean build. His hair is short and although he was obviously once dark, gray covers the sides, and peppers through the top. I’m unsure of his age, but I’d guess at mid-to-late fifties; his face is lined, and his dark assessing eyes don’t hold any youthfulness.

  When he reaches me, he lifts my hand to his lips and kisses it. “Miss Angelique, it’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Eric Carduccio, you might have heard of me before? I’m one of the Senators for the great state of New Mexico.”

  Something about this man makes me uneasy. He’s being cordial and polite, but his eyes hold a hardness that suggests that he isn’t always this nice.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senator Carduccio.”

  He releases me, moving his hand to the base of my spine and guiding me forward a step. I instinctively flinch at his touch. Mr. Carduccio looks down at me and a grin twitches at the edge of
his lips.

  “Angelique, let me introduce my wife, Marissa,” he points to the woman sat on the sofa.

  She rises and steps toward me, holding her hand out. I take it but instead of shaking it she wraps the other hand across mine and greets me. “Hello, Angelique. It’s lovely to meet you. You are absolutely stunning and so young.”

  Unsure what else to do, I smile. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Carduccio.”

  She squeezes my hand and then releases me and returns to her seat. The hand on the base of my spine pushes and turns me slightly. “And lastly, this is my son, Jeremy,” Mr. Carduccio says.

  Jeremy rises from his seat. Taller than his father, he’s at least six feet tall. His shoulders are broad, and his pitch-black hair is styled back from his face. His thin mouth is twisted into a scowl and his dark eyes start at my feet and assess every inch of me. I feel his gaze move over my body and linger on my breasts before slowly looking at my face. Where his father exudes charm, Jeremy is all anger and disapproval. When our eyes meet, his lips lift into a sneer. “It’s a pleasure, Angelique.” His voice doesn’t make it sound like it’s a pleasure, in fact he sounds bored and annoyed.

  Once the introductions are made, Senator Carduccio steers me to a seat and then returns to my father’s side. My mother delivers drinks and I sit silently, watching the others interact. No-one speaks to me again and bemused, I try to understand why my presence was required.

  Ten minutes later, Senator Carduccio stands and glances between his wife, my mother, and me. “If you ladies will excuse us for a few minutes, we have a little business to discuss.”

  My father and Jeremy both stand, and my father leads the men out of the room and toward the patio overlooking the garden. Two of the huge men that I’m now assuming are security, follow the Senator and his son, while the other two remain in the family room.

  Mrs. Carduccio’s cell phone rings, and she looks regretfully at me and my mother. “I apologize, I’ve been expecting a call from a charity I’m involved in. It is a time-sensitive matter so I’m going to have to take the call.”

  My mother nods. “Of course, Marissa. It was so nice to see you again.”

  Marissa turns to me and smiles sweetly. “It was lovely to meet you, honey.” I smile, and she takes her phone from her purse and answers the call. One of the security guys opens the door and my mother and Marissa file into the foyer with the last security guy following behind. The front door opens and shuts and moments later my mama returns to the family room.

  I wait expectantly, hoping she’ll explain what’s going on, but she doesn’t. She walks past me and heads for the kitchen, but I jump to my feet and reach out to stop her. “Mama, what’s going on? Why is a Senator coming to visit?”

  Mama reaches out, placing her hand on my cheek and smiles. “Your daddy thinks that Senator Carduccio’s son Jeremy would be a good match for you.”

  My mouth falls open. “Mama, what are you talking about?”

  “Your father and the Senator have known each other for a while now. They both feel that Jeremy would make you a great husband and connecting our two families would be an unbelievable asset to your daddy. You know that he hopes to run for senate someday.”

  She starts to move, and I grab her frantically. “Mama, I’m eighteen. I’m not getting married to anyone and definitely not a stranger.”

  Lifting her arms up, she places her hands on my shoulders. “Baby girl, I got married at your age. Your daddy knows what’s best for you. Now, why don’t you run on back upstairs before the men folk come back inside?”

  Leaning forward, she kisses my cheek and then walks toward the kitchen. Dumbstruck, I make my way back upstairs into my bedroom and drop onto the bed. I let my head fall forward into my hands and try not to cry.

  My father’s voice disturbs my misery. My bedroom window is open and the patio they’re sitting on is directly underneath. I slowly move closer to the window. Normally, I could care less what my father does, but now that he’s trying to plan my marriage to a complete stranger, I need to know what the hell is going on.

  “Eric, it’s the perfect solution.” My father’s voice booms out.

  “This isn’t the way we normally conduct business, Jefferies,” the Senator replies curtly.

  My father laughs dryly. “I know, but you’ve seen her. She’s worth way more than I owe you.”

  “You’re a sick motherfucker, Jefferies, selling your daughter to cover your debts. I don’t deal in girls, too much hassle. What if Jeremy doesn’t want her for a wife? What if I decide to put her out to work?”

  There’s a pause and I wait with baited breath to see what my father says.

  “Then she’ll make you a hell of a lot of money,” he says smugly.

  I feel sick. Slumping onto the floor, I pull in gasps of air. I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. My father owes Senator Carduccio money, and he’s offering me up as payment.

  Fighting to pull myself together, I ignore the tears that are streaming down my face. I roll to my knees and listen to the conversation. This isn’t the time to fall apart.

  “Gentlemen, I’ll go and grab us some more whiskeys,” my father says.

  The hatred I feel when I hear his voice overwhelms me. He’s negotiating with my life, giving me a price value and offering me up to settle his debt. I’ve always thought he was a horrible father, but this right here has confirmed that he’s also a despicable human being.

  It’s silent for a moment and then I hear Jeremy speak. “For fuck’s sake, dad. What are you doing? We don’t take people as payment. This asshole owes us money. I don’t want to marry this girl, she’s a mouse.”

  “She’s fucking gorgeous though. I’m almost tempted to keep her for myself. Virgin eighteen- year-old pussy that doesn’t speak or make demands. She’s the holy grail of fuck toys. I only agreed to meet with Jefferies to see if he was actually serious about this. I can’t stand the asshole and who really offers up their daughter to cover their debt? But now I’ve seen her, she’s the perfect politician’s wife, the voters would love her,” The Senator says.

  “She’s a fucking virgin.” Jeremy says, outraged.

  The Senator laughs dryly. “So Jefferies assures me. Says she’s been home schooled for the last five years. He told me her sister was a wild one, so he kept this one on a tight leash. She pure as the driven fucking snow.”

  “Maybe I should marry her. Train her up just the way I like.” Jeremy’s voice is a low growl.

  “I know how you like it. This one has to be seen in public, Jeremy.” The Senator’s voice is stern and Jeremy grumbles in response.

  I pinch myself. This is actually happening. This kind of thing only happens in films and books, not in real life. My father can’t actually sell me, can he?

  “I got us the good stuff, gentlemen. So, tell me do we have a deal?” My father says, his voice jovial.

  I want to scream at him through the window. How could he do this, offer me up as collateral to settle a debt? I’m his child—his only child since Nicole died. Why would he do this?

  The clinking of glasses pulls me from my inner turmoil. “Yes, Jefferies, you’ve got a deal. One week from now, bring the girl or the hundred grand you owe us to the warehouse. Juan will deal with the exchange. You’re a cold son of a bitch, but we’ll take her, that virgin pussy is just too tempting.”

  He isn’t a good person, but this. This is beyond inhumane. This is my life. I’m a person, not property to be sold. But this is actually happening. My father’s selling me, and a Senator—a United States Senator—is taking me as payment for a debt.

  “Excellent, she’ll make you a great wife, Jeremy. I assure you she’s untouched, and she knows her place and what happens if she forgets it,” my father says cheerfully.

  The blood in my veins turns to ice. The men laugh and chat, but I stop listening. I’ve bided my time and planned my escape for a year, but I can’t wait anymore. I didn’t want to run until I’d convinced my mama to run with me, but
it’s too late now. I’m not experienced with the ways of the world; my father has made sure of that. But I do know that if I allow him to deliver me to the Senator and his son, I’ll never be free again.

  I have to run, and I have to go tonight.

  Hidden around the corner from the mayor’s house I pace agitatedly back and forth on the sidewalk. Carduccio is in there with the mayor and my Angel. I don’t have a fucking clue why he’s here, but I do know he’s one dangerous son of a bitch and I don’t want him within a hundred fucking miles of my girl.

  My fingers clench and unclench into fists, my chest is heaving, and my teeth are gritted together so hard my jaw throbs with pain. I want to stomp across the street, beat down the door and get my girl out of there.

  “What the fuck’s up with you?” Blade asks.

  I glare at him. “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. You’re pacing like a fucking wild animal. I’ve never seen you this wound up before. What you got against the mayor, you fucking his wife or something?”

  I pull in a steadying breath and force my fists to unclench. “The mayor is a fucking dick, that’s all.”

  Blade laughs. “Yes he is. You still didn’t answer my question though. What’s got you so riled up?”

  Pointedly ignoring Blade, I pull my cell from my pocket and check my email, still nothing. It’s the fifth time I’ve checked since Carduccio, a woman, and five other men, trailed into Angel’s home forty-five minutes ago.

  The cell phone is yanked from my hands and I swing round ready to attack Blade. “You might be my V.P., Blade, but I swear to fucking God you need to back off, right now. Now give me my fucking cell.”

  Blade ignores me, his eyes focused on the screen of my cell. “Who’s Angel?”

  I growl. “That’s none of your goddamn business.”

  “She the girl? The one that’s different.”