I’d begged him to let me join right then and there. But joining Solid Ground wasn’t something you could just ‘do’, he’d told me, unless I was a God, too. They went together.
So, here I was. A prospect in my Uncle’s motorcycle club, surrounded by a bunch of hard-partying do-gooders, as I liked to jokingly call them.
In reality, what they did was no joke at all. Their job was serious business and I understood why they let loose so hard when they weren’t working. They needed a break, needed to forget about the shit they’d seen. It wasn’t easy.
Neither was rejecting Cherry’s advances, which was exactly what was required in this moment.
“Hey, Cherry,” I said, grabbing a beer from the fridge, turning my ass away from her as much as possible in the tiny kitchen of the clubhouse. She smelled like flowery Avon perfume and it reminded me of my great-grandma.
“Hi, Wreck,” she said, calling me by the name that Ryder and Slade had bestowed upon me during my first night here. “Having a nice time out there?”
“Yeah, I guess so,” I said, wiping a drop of blood from my mouth before taking a swig off the bottle. The cold glass felt good against my split lip.
“Don’t let Slade hit you too hard,” she drawled, a cigarette hanging from the tip of her smeared-red lips, her copper curls bouncing around her wrinkled face. “You’re too young and pretty to let that face go to ruin so soon!”
I grunted and walked away, holding the bottle to my lip. I walked back out to the porch and sat down next to Ryder on the steps.
“How’s your lip?” he asked, staring off into the tall towering pine trees that wrapped around the cabin. The clubhouse was deep in the Tillamook Forest of Oregon, not far from the coast, but so far off the main road that it was completely hidden and private. I loved it here. I loved being so far away from civilization. I loved the freedom we enjoyed, the complete inhibition that we all experienced together. The Gods were a close-knit family, with a common mission to save the people that needed it the most, and I was proud to be a part of it.
I wore the split lip like a trophy. I felt like I’d finally won at life.
“Lip’s fine,” I mumbled. Ryder was a man of few words, but when he did speak, he commanded attention. He’d been the president of the Gods since his father died, and he was a damned good president. These days, the Gods kept busy with Solid Ground business most of the time.
To say we weren’t your typical bikers is an understatement.
We weren’t running drugs or weapons. But we were technically still criminals.
Willing to do whatever it took to get the job done, whether it was inside or outside of the law, didn’t matter. We were there to do what needed to be done, what most others wouldn’t, or couldn’t, do. The hard jobs. The difficult jobs. The jobs deemed impossible by other, ordinary people.
We were anything but ordinary.
We were there when it counted. When all else had failed, when even your last chance had come and gone, we were the ones that were called upon.
The hard part was the waiting. The time spent waiting was the time spent partying. Or fighting. Or drinking. Or fucking.
Not that I did much of that, though.
I mean, I’d tried. I had lots of sex with lots of faceless, unmemorable women. But when you’re haunted by the memory of the most perfect woman that ever lived, it kinda ruins other women for you. I’d learned long ago that the booze let me numb that part of my body, so I just kept drinking and kept my pants on, until my body insisted on a quick release.
If the yearning got too bad, then I secluded myself away with my memories until I’d spent enough time with them to be able to lock them away again. It was a slippery slope, but so far so good.
I guess that’s why being here was such a great thing. It was the perfect distraction from all the things I’d rather not think about.
Frankie. The explosion. The end of everything as I knew it.
“You’re doing good, Wreck,” Ryder said. “You did good last week on that call. You stayed alert, followed instructions, and did your job. Proud of you,” he nodded. My chin lifted a little at his words. I wanted him to be proud of me. I wanted him to let me hang out here as long as I could.
“Thanks a lot,” I replied, my voice low and gruff in the darkness. The party swirled around us, and I watched Riot and Lacey making out against a tree in the distance. “I like being here.”
“I’m glad,” Ryder said, turning his head and watching Grace walk towards us. Grace and Ryder had built their own cabin a short distance away and Grace spent most of her time there working, away from the chaos of the clubhouse. “We like having you here, too.”
“Thanks, Ryder. Means a lot,” I said. He patted me on the back and flashed me a warm smile, before standing up and pulling Grace into his arms as she walked up. They kissed and I looked away. It was so good to see Ryder so in love, but damned if it didn’t slice right through my heart, too. I used to have that. A love that deep. Fuck, I missed it.
I stood up, nodding to Grace as they pulled away from each other.
“Hey, Wreck,” she said, flashing me a smile. She was so fucking pretty, but most of all, she was the strongest woman I’d ever known. Ryder was a lucky man.
“Hi, Grace,” I nodded.
“What’s going on, love?” Ryder asked. “Coming to join the party?”
“Hardly,” she said, with a playful wink. “I got a call.”
“Another one?” Ryder asked.
“It’s a big one, babe,” she nodded slowly. “Probably the biggest one yet.”
CHAPTER THREE
Vanessa
“What’s the password?” the woman on the other end of the phone asked in a clipped tone.
“Sanctuary,” I whispered.
“Hello,” she replied, her voice instantly turning warm and calming. “My name is Grace. You’ve reached Solid Ground. We’re here to help you. Are you in a safe place?”
“Yes,” I replied, my voice shaking, along with the rest of my body. This call was the first step in my plan and I’d summoned every ounce of courage I had to pick up the phone.
“What’s your name?”
“Vanessa,” I whispered, looking over my shoulder. Royce’s goon Travis was never far from ear shot. I’d retreated to my private bathroom and turned on the shower, hoping it was enough to keep him from intruding.
“Tell me what we can do to help, Vanessa,” Grace said.
I took a deep breath and the words spilled out in a frantic explosion.
“I’ve been held captive for ten years…by this man, this monster…” I began, trying desperately to hold it together. I’d dreamed about this day for so long, planned it perfectly so that I knew exactly what I wanted to say, but now that the time had come, I was tripping over my words and overcome by anxiety.
“You don’t have to tell me the whole story right now, Vanessa. We’ll have plenty of time to talk later. Right now, I want to make sure you're safe. What can we do to help you right now?”
“It’s a long story,” I said. “I’m safe enough, right now. He doesn’t hit me. It’s not like that. He’s a very powerful man, very rich, extremely ruthless. He - he - he’s a sex trafficker. He’s got connections everywhere - cops, politicians, judges - everyone. He’s untouchable. I just need to get away from him, from his men, so I can try to save all the other girls.”
“We can help you, Vanessa,” she said, her voice sounding so reassuring it was like a warm rain washing over me. “You sound like you’ve thought this out. Do you have a plan of your own?”
“Thank you, oh, thank you so much!” I replied, relief flooding my veins. “I do have a plan, I think it might work…”
I went on for another five minutes, explaining how things worked around Royce’s mansion, about my schedule, his lifestyle, fucking Travis, my constant follower that Royce pretended was my bodyguard but was really just a guard. It was complicated, and I’d never be able to do it alone, but if the little inform
ation I had about Solid Ground was true, then maybe together we could pull it off.
By the time I hung up the phone, the bathroom was full of steam. I wiped the fog from the mirror, and stared at my face. I hated this fucking face with a passion.
Because it wasn’t mine. It was the remnants of a terrible tale, the only lasting evidence of a personal history I wished I could erase from my brain. But how can you forget something that stares you in the eye every time you look in the mirror? Shit, who was I kidding?
I’d never forget.
Even if I get out of here alive, I’ll never forget. I’ll still have this hideous reminder.
I missed my face, but I also missed my old self, my old life. I was just a kid then, but I was filled with love.
Now? I was filled with bitterness. There was no saving me. It was way too late for that. That girl died years ago, in an explosion that took everything else with it. But maybe, just maybe, there was still time to save the dozens of girls that my monstrous husband had enslaved.
I shoved my head under the faucet, so my hair would be wet, as proof to Travis that I’d actually been in the shower. My thoughts drifted off to a better time, a sweeter time, and for a second, I allowed myself to remember the good moments.
Moments with my mother, who had died way too soon.
Moments with my father, who had tried so hard to give me a good life after she’d died. There were good times with my father, but I had developed such a painful hatred for him over the years that it was hard to summon them.
I didn’t hate him for agreeing to fix Royce’s ruined face after he’d been set on fire by two vengeful girls that he was abusing. I didn’t hate him for faking our deaths to flee Royce and his men afterwards.
I could forgive him for those things.
He didn’t have a choice but to agree to giving Royce a new face. I know for a fact how convincing it can be to have Royce’s goon’s guns shoved in your face or enduring Royce’s other threats.
My dad faked our deaths to try to save us from Royce.
I could even forgive him for blowing up our house, the house that contained every single memento and possession of my late mother.
Those things were forgivable, understandable, even if they were painful.
But he’d gone against my wishes, ignored my pleas, and that’s what I couldn’t forgive.
My father thought changing my face would give me a chance at a new life. He’d planned to make changes to his own appearance afterwards, because he knew Royce and his men would keep looking for us.
Instead, in his death, my father had accomplished nothing but imprisoning me in this unnatural flesh after I’d begged him not to do it. He’d waited till I was sleeping before putting me under and demolishing my face and my past in an instant.
I’d never forgive him for that - not ever.
Before he could get me away, Royce found us. My father was dead before I ever woke up. And once I did, all I had was Royce.
Royce was the one who explained everything to me, told me he’d killed my father. He was the one who unwrapped the bandages, who unveiled my hideous new face.
And, in his sick twisted way of thinking, Royce made damn sure he was the only person who’d ever touched it after that.
My father had done this to me. How could I ever forgive that?
I wrapped a towel around my head, tearing my eyes from my reflection and pushed thoughts of him away. They hurt entirely too much. Besides, there was no time to think of such things. I needed now, more than ever, to keep my cool, not rock the boat, and make Royce and Travis think that I was as submissive and complacent as that scared seventeen year old.
I shuddered to think what might happen if he found out what I had planned. I’d be killed in an instant. Probably taken to Royce’s stupid island and thrown in that goddamned tank of illegal piranhas that Royce was so proud of keeping there. I’d be disposed of completely, my absence easily explainable.
A picture from the past flashed in my head - the one thing that had kept me in line all these years, despite his threats of death. Death seemed like a sweet escape for me, but Royce had threatened to kill the one person I loved. Unfortunately, that was one part of my plan that I had no control over.
I could only hope that I’d waited long enough and that wherever Jesse was today, he was far enough away that Royce couldn’t touch him, because I was putting his very life in jeopardy, even if he didn’t even know it. I just couldn't think about that now, though.
I’d taken the first step. Now, I needed to pack a small bag and wait. In just a few days, this whole thing could be over. At least, for me.
I was determined to help the others as fast as I could, but I had to get out of here to be able to do anything for them.
The lady on the phone sounded like a real-life angel. Her confidence was comforting and all I could do was hope I’d adequately stressed Royce’s power and evilness to her.
It was a complete shot in the dark calling them anyway, but it was all I had. I had only discovered their existence by a chance encounter with another angel in the bathroom of a news station a few weeks ago.
Royce always used me as a prop, as his perfectly obedient trophy wife, but only when appropriate and necessary.
Apparently, a news segment featuring his five million dollar donation to Doernbecher’s Children’s Hospital was a necessary reason for allowing me out of his luxury dungeon. He’d insisted on choosing my outfit and approving my makeup, before ushering me to the KATU news station offices. I was forced to sit next to him, cross my legs perfectly, and smile and nod as he was profusely praised and admired by people that were just as plastic as he was.
Or, so I thought.
Later, I found myself alone with one of the female newscasters in the ladies room. Diana was a beautiful tall blonde with striking baby blue eyes that seemed to peer right through me.
“Are you okay?” she asked, as soon as I walked out of the stall. She’d been waiting for me, leaning up against the wall and holding a business card in her hand.
“Yes, I’m fine, thank you,” I flashed her my coolest smile and began washing my hands.
Her eyes squinted as she scrutinized me, raking her gaze over my body before speaking again.
“I’m Diana,” she said, as I turned to her after drying my hands.
“Yes, I know. I’m…Vanessa,” I replied, refusing to add the name “Randolph” at the end.
“Vanessa, right,” she said, her eyes peering deeply into mine again. “I want to give you this card, Vanessa. Something tells me you might need it sometime.”
I looked down at the card she was handing me and saw it had nothing but a phone number printed on it.
“What is this?” I asked.
“Call it intuition, but something tells me you might need some help some time. Call this number, anytime at all, morning or night. They’re safe people. If you need help getting to a safe place, and you find you can’t call the police, or anyone else, you can call them.”
“Look, Diana - I’m not some battered wife or something…” my voice trailed off. I knew Travis was right outside the door, and I had no idea what this woman’s angle was. I didn’t know her, so I didn’t trust her.
“Shh!” she said, placing a reassuring hand on my arm. “Battery is only one form of abuse. Sometimes, women need help for other reasons. Maybe I’m wrong, and you’ll never use this. I hope that’s the case. But I had to say something, just in the small chance that I’m right.”
“I see,” I said, lifting my chin, wondering what it was about me that tipped her off. I’d have to do better next time. If Royce figured out that I wasn’t being completely convincing, he’d make sure I paid for it. “Well, thank you, Diana.”
I placed the card in my purse and headed for the door.
“Sanctuary,” she said.
“Excuse me?” I asked, turning back to her.
“Sanctuary,” she whispered again. “It’s the password. Don’t forget that. Bu
t it’s also what Solid Ground provides.”
“Solid Ground?” I asked.
“Call them, Vanessa. They’re there for you. Anything you need, anything at all.”
I nodded slowly, and then turned and walked out, leaving her alone in the bathroom. My heart was racing in my chest and I could hardly breathe. I’d been on these ridiculous excursions with Royce dozens of times, and I’d never been approached like that.
At the time, all I could think of was that I’d fucked up somehow, slipped up and shown something on my face that I shouldn’t have. With shaking hands, I shoved the card in my pocket and walked away.
I didn’t realize that she’d handed me the key to my chains until days later.
CHAPTER FOUR
Wreck
“Vanessa Randolph is the wife of Royce Randolph the Third. He’s a financial advisor and investor for some of the wealthiest people in the world. He has deep pockets and lots of friends in high places. Rumors have swirled around him for years, alleging that he’s the ringleader of an elite sex-trafficking ring that caters to some of the most powerful men in the world.” Grace had called us all into the war room to discuss the phone call she’d received on the Solid Ground hotline.
As I sat around the table, surrounded by the smartest and bravest men and women I’d even known, I felt a huge surge of pride that I was a part of Solid Ground.
Grace was beautiful, but that wasn’t what made her shine. She was strong, smart and cunning. When I’d heard her story, I felt sorry for her at first. She’d suffered so many terror-filled years at the hands of her horrible family. Riot had filled me in shortly after I’d arrived. When he told me that Ryder saved her from a murderous pimp that she’d gone undercover to bring down when she was a cop, I couldn’t believe it. But when he explained that she’d woken up with amnesia and had to work to regain her memory, I was in awe.
I didn’t feel sorry for her anymore. I admired her.
No wonder Ryder loved her so much. And Ryder was a pillar of strength himself. I hadn’t been around much back then, but I’d heard about how devastated he was when his wife Julie died in a car accident a year after they’d gotten married. We didn’t think he’d ever open his heart again, but somehow Grace had managed to get him to do just that. And they were perfect for each other.
WRECKED: GODS OF CHAOS MC, BOOK FOUR Page 3