by Harper Sloan
A month later, marking seven months since I’ve been away from home, I’ve become used to the nightmares that wake me in pain to search for my missing foot. My wails have become a constant companion for the emptiness that’s become my life. I fight with the depression that has settled over my body like a thick blanket.
The depression didn’t sink in until I got a letter from Mary, Johnson’s widow, telling me to stop trying to contact her family. The blame for her husband’s death is all mine. By allowing myself close to him, her, and their kids, I have ruined their lives.
“It should have been you, Maddox. I would have my husband and my children would have their father had you not failed them. I will never forgive you for ruining my life.”
Her words are a constant companion. I wake alone and I go to sleep alone.
The majority of my time is spent making sure the rest of my body doesn’t succumb to the darkness swirling around me. Doctors in and out, nurses, physical therapists—you name it. My room has become a revolving door of medical personnel. There’s one thing that is painfully missing from this time.
Mercy.
She was notified. I know that much. But she hasn’t come. Didn’t even pick up when I called her over and over. My letters come back unopened. My own mother and brother didn’t even care—not that I’m shocked there—but Mercy? My Mercy against the world I’ve been fighting since birth is gone, just gone. The hope is eclipsed more and more each day she isn’t here.
“Well don’t you look like shit,” a deep voice jokes from the doorway.
I turn my head and lock eyes with Reid. He’s part of my team, but he wasn’t with me out on the field. He and the other men were clearing another part of the area when we took the other.
“Won’t be winning any beauty contest. That’s for fucking sure,” Beck says, coming in behind him.
“Coop and Cage are on the way. We’re getting the hell out of here and taking you with us. Time to go home and get the fuck out of this bed,” Reid says. He gives me a lopsided smile, trying to ease some of the thickness in the air.
“Have you been able to get Mercy?” I ask. I don’t give a damn about anything else right now. I need my girl. I need to know that she and our child are okay. Everything I’ve been pushing my body to do since the day I woke has been for her. I’ll get stronger; I’ll overcome—for them.
“Yeah, brother, we have,” he says weakly.
Beck won’t meet my eyes, and that damn sense of dread starts to fall over me.
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Why don’t we focus on getting you Stateside and walking again?” Reid tries to change the subject, his green eyes boring into mine.
“Tell me where the hell she is, Reid.”
He flinches but doesn’t say anything. Until I hear the voice I hoped I wouldn’t have the displeasure of hearing again for a long time break through the silence.
“Oh you really are such stupid boy.” She clicks her tongue. “They’re not telling you because they seem to think you need to be eased into the news.” She laughs. “I would ask how you are, but it looks like that demon seed that made you finally started to nip away at you. Quite literally.”
“You fucking bitch,” Cage sneers from the doorway behind my mother.
“No need for name-calling, dear. I’m just here to make sure there isn’t anything tying me responsible for the invalid now that it’s time for him to be discharged. Can’t have that now. He’s all yours, little boy.” She pats Cage on the chest a few times before walking into the room. “It was such a long flight. Let me sit for a second before I tell you a little bedtime story.” She walks over to where Beck’s leaning back and gaping at her in the room’s only chair. “Up now,” she demands with a flick of her wrist.
Beck, being the lover and not fighter of the group, stands without argument and moves out of her way.
She sits, dusting off her black pants with her hands before folding them in her lap. I look up and meet her hard gaze, staring her straight on, refusing to let her see any weakness in me.
“Story time, bastard son of mine.” She pauses—I’m sure for dramatic flare. “Once upon a time, there was a son born out of an accidental affair with the pool boy. Such a terrible decision on the mother’s end, being that she was married with a perfect little angel already. Oh, and that her husband couldn’t have more children. Imagine the scandal that rocked the house when she became pregnant. Of course, the husband was deeply confused, determined to stand by her side while the mother worked her magic and had her husband believing in miracles.”
She laughs before her face falls and becomes serious again. “But that little bastard was nothing but trouble from day one. The mother was sick for the whole pregnancy, convinced that she was going to die from the demon inside her body. Her little prince suffered because she was feeling too unwell to care for him. Her husband—that miracle-believing fool—finally found out the truth when the baby was born. He looked nothing like his wife or other son, but instead favoring the dark complexion of a member of their staff. It was quite the time. Sure, that little bastard looked a little like his mother, but the differences were too vast for her lie to be believed. Like a thief in the night, her husband was gone.”
She pauses while I struggle to keep up with what is obviously my life story. Sure, I’ve always been a little tanner than the rest of the family, but I share my mother’s dark eyes and black hair. I always assumed that my brother just took after our father.
Holy shit.
“Ah, I see it’s sinking in now. Yes, Maddox, you are that little bastard. The rotten little baby that was,” she laughs. “Now here is where things get real fun. Your father, leaving when he did and proving that I had in fact been unfaithful, took oh so much from me. He took money that was rightfully mine. He didn’t get my company, but even that was struggling. I’ve been fighting hard to build it back up for years. I knew that, one day, because of the way my foolish father had worded his last will and testaments, my sons would retain partial control of Locke Oil. I couldn’t take the chance that your rotten hands would touch what is ours. You played right into my hands when you met little Mercedes. She’s been of great importance the last few years.” She pause, and I feel the urge to throw up.
Mercedes? What does she have to do with this fucked-up tale?
I look up and lock eyes with the four other men listening to this shit—each of them wearing the same expression of shock and outrage.
“I’m sure that, at some point in your ridiculously long relationship, she might have cared a little. It didn’t take us much to persuade her to come work for our side of things. The money and power you can’t provide her with can persuade even the strongest of souls. And of course it didn’t hurt that your brother is quite fond of her. We offered her the world, something you would have never been able to give her. It was all planned out. All we had to do was wait for her to get that pathetic ring on her finger, have all those prenuptial papers drafted with the additional paperwork that relinquished your right to anything Locke Oil related, and wait for you to leave for another little game in the sandbox.”
“The fuck you say!” Coop shouts, startling her enough to flinch.
“Hush, boy,” she scolds.
“I got your fucking boy,” he crudely yells back, grabbing his crotch.
“Let her finish,” I interrupt before Coop can start bellowing again.
“Oh yes. We are getting to the best part. And the reason that I just sat on that dreadful plane. It really is a pity that you made it out alive. I’m not sure how you’re going to be able to face the fact that, once again, your vile soul has tainted more lives. Those poor men . . . dying because of you.”
Coop isn’t the only one who lashes out at that. I hear them all start to yell over each other. I just sit there and stare her in the eyes, refusing to give her what she wants—my pain.
“As I was saying,” she continues. “Since the day you were conceived, you have destroyed eve
rything you touch. Every relationship in direct contact with you suffers. It wasn’t enough that my husband left me, cleaning me out and making it so we couldn’t have the best of the best. Mason had to suffer the disgusting public school system for years before I rebuilt our empire. You have been nothing but trouble from the beginning. Always doing something ridiculously careless in school. The early drinking and partying. And then disgracing the family by joining the military. Everything you have ever touched is shit, and Mercedes is lucky that she and my grandson got out when they did. Enjoy what’s left of your life, Maddox.” She goes to stand, and her words hit me like a Mack truck.
“Hey!” I scream when she is halfway through the room, walking fearlessly through the testosterone-driven minefield. “That’s my son and I won’t let her keep him from me!”
Judging by her smile, I would guess that my reaction is just what she was hoping for. After all, how would she dig the knife deeper if I hadn’t spoken up?
“Oh, silly me. I forgot the best part of your bedtime story. He isn’t yours. He’s Mason’s.” She throws her head back and lets out an evil cackle. “That’s right. Mason and Mercedes—they’ve been sleeping together for the last four years. They’ve been trying for a baby for the last two. Didn’t you find it odd that the woman who made you wear a condom ended up pregnant? Took longer than they thought since she had to be careful not to show her hand to you and your brother had to finalize his divorce and all.”
Before she leaves, she pushes her hand into her purse and throws something on my lap. Then she turns her back to my shocked face and clicks out the door on her heels.
She doesn’t even spare her son a second thought as she takes off. How she can just so carelessly throw me away again and again will never make sense to me. Nevertheless, she’s finally won. Taken everything I had left to live for and slapped me in the face with what she’s been drilling into my head my whole life.
Everything and everyone I’ve ever touched has been ruined. The evilness she embodies and the demons that have been nipping at my heels since I started walking have won.
With nothing left to give, I pick up the item on my lap and feel that hope inside me die a painful death.
Mason, with his arms around Mercedes, is the first thing I see in the close-up shot. The second is the little baby in her arms. The little baby that looks nothing like me. Mason’s son. I close my eyes and allow the only tear I’ll ever shed over my life to roll down my cheek.
Never again. I will never allow myself to harm someone else.
I’m a broken man.
A broken man with black hole left where his heart used to be.
I’ll get past this, but I will never open myself up to this kind of pain again.
A blessed life is something I have never known, so I’m not sure why I ever hoped to feel its glory.
CHAPTER 5
Emmy
Past
Night after night, all I have is the stage, my spotlight, and Shawn. Since the night he raped me in the back dressing room six months ago, things have gotten out of hand. The Ram just looks past his rough hands, and Ivy thinks it’s just wonderful that I have such a strong and handsome man. When I tried to tell her that that ‘strong and handsome man’ was raping her daughter daily, she laughed. Told me that I needed to grow up and start learning how to please my man.
What the hell is wrong with these people?!
It will be over soon, I remind myself. That’s the only thing that pushes me to keep going, to not give up. I’ve saved every single dollar I’ve made at Syn. Being the ‘Princess of Syn’ and knowing what the hell I’m doing when I take the stage have their benefits. They toss money to me left and right. I could leave tonight, but I want to get past this last weekend and get the high rollers who always hit Syn when it’s the end of the month. Payday for most, and that’s when the biggest money gets tossed onto my stage.
“You’re up in ten, Rose!” Diamond yells as she rushes past me to go change, her huge, fake tits bouncing up and down.
The smell of her . . . arousal makes me gag. I’ll never understand how she gets off stripping. I guess, for her, it’s an exhibition type thing. She loves being watched. Not for me though. I hate showing all these men my body. That’s why I demand that the house lights get turned down and only a spotlight. It shields them from me in a way. I get up there and try to forget that I’m dancing naked for them. I let the music take over my body. At this point, it moves as if on autopilot. I go out there, do what is expected of me, and then take my money and run. Usually, I just run right into another piece of my hell.
Shawn.
Over the last month, he has become more and more violent, his hands leaving bruises against my arms and hips. Recently, he’s left them around my neck, causing me to get creative with my makeup. I stopped fighting him a while back—when it became clear that he got off on my struggles. I have a feeling that his escalated roughness is because he wants me to fight. I just don’t care anymore. I’m so close to leaving that there isn’t much more he can do to damage me.
He’s already taken so much, and I refuse to give him my pride. I’ll hold on to that until my dying breath.
It’s almost time. I’ll escape this hell, and when I do, I’m never going to look back.
* * *
My music is just coming to the end. I do my last rotation of the stage, making sure that my naked body is on display to every one of the men pulled up to the stage. Their shouts are almost loud enough to drown out the beat of my music.
I let my legs go and drop to a split, my pussy hitting the stage, and then I silently say my nightly prayer that I don’t catch anything from the exposure. Dropping onto my back, my legs spread, I throw my head back in a mock pose of ecstasy before dragging my hands from my ankles to rest at the apex of my legs. Making sure all these idiots can see every bare inch of my sex.
The crowd goes electric. Crossing my legs, I roll and get to my knees, where I continue to play with my body. Seducing the crowd to give me every last dollar.
By the time the last note of my music hits my ears, the stage is so full of money that I can’t even see the black flooring through the cash.
My escape.
It is worth every second of the humility I just endured.
I collect the money and stuff it into the bucket that Pearl tosses my way. Then she cleans off the pole as I finish cleaning my earnings off the stage.
“Thanks,” I pant as I rush past her.
I have about two minutes to dump this money into the safe I keep in my locker before Shawn finds me. Not even giving a care to my nudity, especially since he will just pull anything I put on it my body off, I dump the bucket’s contents into my safe and slam it shut.
I just know that tonight is the night I get the hell out of here.
“Emersyn, Emersyn, Emersyn. That was quite the show you put on tonight. If I didn’t know better, I would think you actually enjoyed yourself out there.” He comes up against my back. The cheap fabric of his suit roughly rubs against my oiled skin. “You going to fight me tonight, little Syn?” he rasps against my ear, biting my lobe. He’s started asking this question each night he takes me.
And every night since, I’ve answered him the same way.
“In your dreams.”
“One day, Emersyn. One day, when I have my ring on your finger and your dear old daddy gives me this club, you’re going to learn where your fucking place is. Your fucking lippy mouth will only get you so far. The Ram might put up with it, but I sure as hell won’t.”
He grips my arms and spins me before pushing me against the lockers. The metal scrapes against my back, cutting it open in some spots, but I don’t make a sound.
“Get on your knees and suck my dick, bitch,” he demands.
I drop instantly, wondering in the back of my head if it’s still rape now that I’ve stopped fighting him.
It doesn’t take him long before he grabs both sides of my head and starts thrusting into my mouth w
ith a bruising force.
“That’s right. Take it all. Take all of Daddy’s dick.”
God, how repulsive can he get?
I attempt to keep my mind from engaging. I let my body take over and try to go to my happy place. When his hand curls around my neck, it becomes obvious why he started this new game. He wants my attention, and what a better way to get it than taking my air?
When he lifts me to my feet, his needle dick falls from my mouth and I struggle to control the fear at my lack of oxygen. Roughly, he pushes me forward, causing me to crash into the table in the middle of the room. Makeup and clothing scatter around us as he lifts me, flips me, and then slams me onto my back. His hand goes back to my neck before he forcefully pushes into my body.
I’m on the verge of blacking out, his thrusts picking up speed, but then I finally come out of my head and grab ahold of his wrist with my hands. Trying desperately to get some much-needed air, I claw at his skin, begging with my eyes for him to let up.
“That’s right, Emersyn. Fucking fight me,” he pants, sweat beading around his forehead and rolling down his neck. “Fucking fight, bitch!” he screams into my face.
I’m seconds from passing out when I feel his body disappearing. I sit up, struggling to let the air in, and meet the crystal-blue eyes of my savior.
“You okay?” he asks.
I nod mutely. A million questions rush through my head, but not a single word escapes before he nods and slams his fist into Shawn’s face. I want to weep when I watch him crumple to the floor, passed out cold.
“I’m Zeke, but my friends call me Coop. I know you don’t know me, but I promise you can trust me. I was walking to the bathroom and I heard him . . . and, shit . . .” he trails off, running his hands through his thick, blond hair. “I’m not going to hurt you, but I would like to help if you’ll let me.”
I can’t stop the tears if I wanted to. Silently, I nod, still not trusting myself to speak. Then I hastily throw my clothes on, open the safe, and shovel all the cash I have into my duffel bag. There’s nothing else here I need.