by Gemma Weir
“Phone hasn’t worked for about a year now,” the cashier says from his spot at the counter.
Closing my eyes, I will back the tears that are threatening to escape and slowly replace the receiver. I make my way back to the front of the store, where the cashier—an overweight man, with greasy hair and stains down the front of his gray sweater—is sat, his hand inside a huge bag of Cheetos.
“Is there another payphone anywhere in town?” I ask.
The cashier thinks about this for a minute. He lifts his finger to his ear, twists it inside the hole and then inspects the orange wax that’s now visible on his nail. “No, I can’t think of any,” he eventually says.
Disgusted, I nod and quickly leave the store. Hurrying around the corner, I eventually collapse onto a street bench. “What am I going to do now?” I say aloud. I should have considered that buses don’t run this late at night, but the last time I got a bus was the one that took me to school more than five years ago. I could go back and ask the cashier if he has a cell phone I could use, but I really don’t want to go back into the store with him.
Sitting on the bench, I try to decide how long it would take me to walk to the next town. They might have a working payphone, or at least I could wait there until the bus came along in the morning. A motorcycle engine roars loudly in the quiet night and I sit up straighter in my seat.
Daisy.
I could go to Daisy and use his cell phone to call a cab, or maybe I could ask him to take me to Houston. Daisy would help me, I’m absolutely certain of that. Even though we’ve only known each other for a very short space of time I know he would help me.
I’m up and walking in the direction of the Doomsday Sinners clubhouse before I even fully make the decision to go. Daisy had told me where it was in one of his emails, but he hadn’t needed to. Everyone in town knows where the clubhouse is, even me.
The club is only about two miles out of town, but the quiet country lanes don’t have any streetlamps and walking in the pitch black takes longer than I expect. It’s close to midnight by the time the lights of the clubhouse first come into view and I spot the high fence that circles the bikers’ compound. Huge security lights are hung on high poles, illuminating the metal gates that mark the entrance and my steps slow to an apprehensive crawl as I approach.
What if I was wrong about Daisy? What if he turns me away, or if I can’t get to see him at all? My heart races and nerves pulse through me as I step into the arc of light and toward the gates.
A small hut is situated to the left of the entrance and as I reach out to push the gate, a figure moves in the darkness from the direction of the hut. “Think you’re in the wrong place, darlin’. There’s no party here tonight.”
I jump at the voice and strain my eyes to make out what the figure looks like in the darkness. My voice is small and full of fear. “Excuse me, I’m looking for Daisy.”
A man steps into the light and openly appraises me. He’s maybe a few years older than me, tall and slim, but his eyes glint menacingly and I instinctively step back. “Get out of here, bitch. There’s no party tonight and we wouldn’t let you in dressed like that anyway.”
He starts to turn away, so I panic and shout. “I’m not here for a party. I need to see Daisy. Could you tell him I’m here please?”
The man smiles and laughs dryly. “Daisy isn’t here, darlin’, but you can come visit with me. I’ll audition you, see if you have something under that nasty dress the boys might like.” The look on his face is lascivious and his lips are twisted into a sneer.
Taking another step backward, I start to turn away, but my eyes are drawn to another figure moving in the darkness. When he moves into the light, this man is older and wearing a leather vest with colored patches on it. His eyes move from me to the young guy and back again. “What you got here, Slow?” He says to the young guy.
“This one wants in. I’ve offered to see if she’s got anything the guys might want.” The young guy says as he slides the lock across and starts to push open the gates.
My heart races and the urge to run builds in my chest. I take another step back and turn to the older man. “I’m looking for Daisy; he told me to come here.”
The older man’s face changes from leering to confused. “Daisy told you to come here?” he says stepping toward me.
“Yes,” I nod. My mind flashes back to Daisy’s emails and his offer for me to come to him. The words run through my head; he said if I had any trouble to tell them I was his. “I’m his,” I blurt loudly.
Both men stop and turn to look at me. “You’re Daisy’s?” the older guy says looking unconvinced.
“Yes,” I say with as much conviction as I can muster in my voice. “I’m Daisy’s. Could someone tell him I’m here please?”
The older guy pulls opens the gate and reaches for me. I flinch, but his hand wraps around my wrist and holds me tightly. “Let’s go find your man then, honey,” he says with a smirk and walks away, pulling me along behind him.
I stumble but manage to stay upright and hurry to keep up with the fast pace as he leads me across the dark courtyard and toward the main building. The windows are all lit up and I can hear music coming from inside. The guy pulls open a door and drags me through it and into a room filled with rowdy men and a few women.
I try not to stare, but my eyes dart from person to person, unsure where to look next. People are watching the guy pull me into the room and I see the curious stares and amused laughs. I search the faces for Daisy, but I don’t see him, and I question if coming here was a really stupid idea.
“Daisy,” the guy shouts. “Daisy, does this belong to you?” He coos.
Glancing around me I watch as more people stop what they’re doing and turn to stare at us. I look over my shoulder and toward the door we just entered through. Maybe I should try to break free and run for the exit? My eyes fall on the younger guy from the gatehouse. He’s standing behind me, his arms crossed and a salacious smirk on his face. I shudder. I hadn’t realized he had followed us.
“Daisy,” the older guy calls again in a singsong voice. “Daisy.” He turns back to me and drops my wrist. “Sorry, honey, doesn’t look like Daisy wants to claim you.”
Arms wrap around me from behind and the young guy’s voice speaks into my neck. “I’ll have her. Reckon this dress is hiding something wet and willing beneath it.”
I freeze. Coming here was a mistake.
“Let go of her, Slow. She don’t look like that kind of a girl. She’s practically still a child,” the older guy says, and I release a slow breath of air.
“Nah, she’s legal aren’t you, darlin’?” The younger guy says, amusement filling his tone.
“Let me go please and I’ll leave. I thought Daisy would be here, he told me to come,” I say, my voice trembling with fear.
“Get your fucking hands off her,” Daisy’s voice roars and I sag in relief.
Most nights I hang out at the bar with the guys. I play pool or indulge in the whores that like to party at the club. Tonight, I’m pissed and not in the mood to be social with anyone. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve checked my email since I left Angel’s house earlier today, but she still hasn’t replied.
I want to drive over and see her, but I know I can’t, so instead I check my email again. My TV is playing quietly in the background, but I’m too agitated to watch it. Images of Angel are running on a loop through my mind and my cock is rock hard and begging me to go find her. I pull off my t-shirt and punch my pillows to try to get comfortable, but my balls are aching and nothing I do is going to make me feel better unless I find a woman or my hand to take care of it.
I’m undoing the buttons on my jeans when a fist bangs against my door. “Yeah?” I shout.
The door opens and a smiling K.C. leans into my room. “Brother, you need to get out here. Erickson’s dragged some Amish looking girl into the club and he’s shouting about her being yours.”
I jump off the bed and push past K.
C., running toward the bar.
Angel. Her eyes are wide and full of fear and my body goes on full alert. I quickly take in the situation. Erickson is standing next to her, but Slow, the fucking bastard, has his hands on her, talking into her ear. “Get your fucking hands off her,” I roar. Angel visibly sags in relief when she hears my voice and I push people out of the way until I’m in front of her.
Slow lifts his head and smirks at me. “What’s the matter, Daisy? She doesn’t seem like your type.”
A deep feral growl escapes from my throat, “Let her go. NOW. Before I break both of your arms.”
Slow’s eyebrows snap up, but his arms don’t loosen from around Angel.
“Slow,” Erickson warns.
I take a step toward Angel, and Slow releases her, lifting his arms into the air and sneering at me. “Fuck this, you can have her. Jailbait Amish pussy isn’t worth the effort.”
Angel rushes over to me and I pull her into my arms, her tiny body is shaking and her face is pale. I quickly kiss the top of her head and hold her away from me, so I can look at her. “Are you ok?” I whisper.
Her nod is barely perceptible, but I see it and carefully guide her behind me. Stepping into Slow’s chest, I twist my fists into his shirt. “Don’t ever touch what’s mine again,” I snarl, my voice full of hatred. Slamming my head down onto his face, his nose explodes with the force and as I release my grip on his shirt, he drops to the floor.
I hear his cries of pain and outrage as I turn my back on him, but all my focus is now on Angel. Wrapping her in my arms I silently walk her through the crowd of my brothers who quickly clear a path for us.
Angel’s body has stopped trembling by the time we reach my room, and opening the door, I guide her inside and quietly close it behind us. She pauses a few steps ahead of me, her spine ramrod straight and her hands clenched into tight fists. I step closer to her and place my hand on her arm. She flinches.
Anger burns in my chest. Why the fuck would this beautiful, innocent woman flinch at my touch? I want to scream and demand to know who has hurt her, but I don’t want to scare her any more than she already is. Taking a deep calming breath, I swallow my rage and then as gently as I can, I slide my hand between her fingers and un-pry her fists.
“I’m so sorry, Daisy. I shouldn’t have come here. I never even considered that it would cause trouble for you. I just needed to use a phone and the only payphone in town wasn’t working and you said I could come to you. I’m just, I’m so sorry.”
The words rush from her, while her eyes stay glued to the floor beneath her feet. Using my free hand, I lift her chin and force her eyes to meet mine. I don’t say a word, just lean forward and capture her lips with my own.
The moment my mouth touches hers, tingles start to move through my nerve endings and my mind quiets. Her flowery smell surrounds me, and I lose myself in her. My body relaxes and I drop her face to wrap my arms around her back and pull her closer into my chest.
She comes willingly; her tiny hand tentatively moves up my arm and grips onto my bicep, until she’s holding me as tightly as I’m holding her. The kiss is slow, our lips massaging each other in a loving caress. I nip at her lower lip and she gasps, opening her mouth wide enough for me to slide my tongue inside and slowly tangle with hers. Her response surprises me. Her tongue moves against mine and a low and sensual moan escapes from her.
My cock pushes against my jeans as her breasts press against my bare chest. I want to throw her onto my bed and rip away that ugly dress. I want to make her moan and scream and pant. To touch and lick and stroke every perfect fucking inch of her and I want to do it now. But this is Angel, and I can’t—won’t—treat her like a club whore looking for a quick fuck.
Pulling my lips away from hers, I physically move her a step back from me and hold her at arm’s length. “What are you doing to me, Angel?” I pant.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes half-lidded and full of desire.
Her voice is breathy, and I close my eyes and groan, searching for some self-control. I pull in a deep breath and slowly release it before I open my eyes again and look at her.
Her head is still raised, and her eyes stare back at me unsure. “I’m sorry, I just needed to use your cell or maybe get a ride into Houston. I had no idea coming here would cause this much trouble.”
I blink at her words and tilt my head to the side. “Wait, what? Why would you need to go to Houston?”
She drops her eyes to the floor, but I lift her chin up so she’s looking at me. “I like those pretty eyes, Angel. Keep them on me, not the floor, okay?”
She nods.
“So, explain to me why you would need to use my cell phone or have me give you a ride to Houston at midnight.” I watch her closely; she swallows and her eyes flit from me to the door, then back to me again. I see the moment she decides to explain and wait silently for her to speak.
“I need to get out of Archer’s Creek before my father realizes I’ve gone.”
That wasn’t what I was expecting. It shouldn’t surprise me. I knew something was going on with her dad and I’d told her to come to me. But why is she running and what, if anything does Carduccio showing up today, have to do with it? “Where are you going?”
“As far away as possible,” she says.
I hear the steel in her voice and see the emotion swirling in her eyes. She means it; my Angel is running away. “Wait, what’s happened to make you run?” I ask. I can hear the panic in my own voice. If she runs I might never see her again, and that is not okay.
Fuck, I’m in deep with this girl already. I didn’t know how deep until I saw her standing in my club, looking terrified. I only just found her and now she wants to run away—to run as far away as possible from Archer’s Creek and me.
“I completely understand if you can’t take me to Houston, Daisy. We barely know each other. But would it be okay if I used your cell to call a cab please?”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down. Now what the fuck’s happened? Did he hurt you?” Dropping my hold on her arms, I lift my hands to my hair and twist at the strands agitatedly. Without my touch, she drops her gaze back down to the floor and tangles her fingers together in front of her.
“Angel,” I call. Her gaze stays locked at her feet, so instead of demanding her eyes I crouch down in front of her. “Angel, it’s late. Stay here tonight, explain what’s happened to me and if you still want to go I’ll take you to Houston in the morning.”
She starts to shake her head. “No, no. I need to get out of Archer’s Creek now. If my father finds me he’ll hand me over and I’ll never get away.”
Fear laces her voice and I quickly stand and pull her against my chest, rubbing my hand soothingly up and down her back. “It’s okay, Angel, you’re safe here. I promise he can’t get to you here.”
Tiny hands push against my chest and I reluctantly release her. Angel steps back and looks up at me, tears pooling at the corners of her eyes but not spilling over the edge. “You don’t understand,” she cries.
“So explain it to me, Angel.”
Her eyes have tormented my dreams since the very first time we met, but I’ve never seen them look like they do today. Her huge amber depths are swirling with so many emotions they almost seem to glow.
Her teeth pull at her bottom lip and her eyes move from me to her hands and back again. She laughs humorlessly. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
All the air in my lungs seems to disappear and fear trickles up the back of my neck. “Try me,” I say, my voice lower than I intended.
Angel stiffens at the tone of my voice and I silently curse myself. Stepping closer to her, I slowly reach up and slide the straps of her backpack down her shoulders and place it on the floor. She turns her head to watch me as I move behind her and place a kiss on the back of her neck. I guide her jacket down her arms allowing one of my fingers to caress a path along her skin, before I step away and fold the jacket over the back of a chair.
Her eyes follow me as I step in front of her again and slide my hand down the silky skin of her arm, entwining my fingers with hers. Angel lets me lead her toward the bed and when I sink against the pillows she moves next to me. I don’t release her hand, instead I turn to face her and rub my thumb back and forth across her palm.
“Tell me what’s happened, Angel. It doesn’t matter how crazy it sounds, I promise I’ll believe you and I’ll help you.”
As she stares at me, her pupils dilate and her head tilts to the side assessing. I recognize the look in her eyes, she’s deciding if she can trust me or not. When her face softens, the breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding exhales in a relieved hiss.
“Some people came to visit my father today and he told me that they would want to meet me. That’s never happened before, my father doesn’t introduce me to people—he pretends I don’t exist most of the time. After I met them I went back up to my room and my father went out onto the patio with some of the men to talk. I could hear them from my window.”
I stiffen, her father introduced her to Carduccio. I want to scream and rage, but I need to know what else happened, so I silently wait for her to continue speaking.
“I don’t really know how to say it. I almost don’t believe it’s true and I heard it all,” she says, laughing weakly.
Pulling in a deep breath, her eyes lock with mine. “My father apparently owes these men a lot of money and he offered me up as payment. My father sold me to settle his debt. He’s supposed to deliver me or the money in a few days time.”
A single tear falls from Angel’s eyes and I lose it. Jumping from the bed I pick up a chair and fling it across the room. The wood hits the brick wall with a loud bang and then drops to the floor.
I don’t process Angel’s scream of fear until I turn to face her. All the life has disappeared from her face and an expressionless mask has replaced the myriad of emotions she had shown me tonight. Remorse hits me like a freight train.
Rushing across the room I sink to my knees at her feet and grasp her hands. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please look at me. I would never hurt you, I promise you. I’m angry at what you just told me, I’m angry that your father would do that and that he put you in danger. Please, Angel, please.”