by Deja Voss
“Mama, let me help you,” I plead. I’m scared to touch her. She looks like she’s about to break. Every part on her looks painful, and it radiates over to me. I don’t know why, but every time she hurts, I hurt, too. I think that’s part of their plan.
“Eat your lunch, sweetie,” she says. Her voice is strained and hoarse like she’s been crying a lot. “Eat your lunch and we’ll do your schoolwork.”
“Why?” I ask. “What’s the point, Mother?”
Other than glimpses into the hallway, I’ve never seen the outside world. The older I get, the more I realize I probably won’t ever, and when I do, it’s not like being educated is going to serve me any good.
“One of these days we won’t be here anymore, and I don’t want you to struggle when it’s time for you to acclimate to society.”
“I don’t even know what that means,” I say with a huff. I instantly feel guilty. My mother, Lucy, is the only person in this world I have, but sometimes I get so angry I need to hurt someone. I don’t like hurting her.
“Well maybe if you opened up a book, you would,” she taunts back.
I dump the bag of food out on the bed and start tearing the crust off the peanut butter and jelly sandwich, shoving it all in my mouth at once. I pretend like I don’t like the inside because I know my mom needs this food more than I do. I might not like to read or do schoolwork, but I’m not stupid.
I reach under the bed and pull out the only book I really have any interest in. An Album of Horses. I still don’t believe they really exist, even though my mom tells me they do. I’m not sure if that’s just her way of trying to get me excited about reading, or if maybe somewhere out there there really are these glorious creatures wandering around. Either way, I like to look at them.
I get wrapped up in the illustrations, studying every single one, reading every single word underneath out loud until it makes sense, even if I have to repeat it over and over.
The door to our room swings open, and a giant man with big scars all over his face storms over to my mother, grabbing her by the hair.
I toss my book at him, and he looks over at me and smiles, his golden teeth razor sharp.
“You gotta get back out there, Lucy,” he says, his hand tightening around her neck.
“Please, sir, I am hurt. I can’t do anymore today. I wouldn’t be any use to any clients.”
I don’t like the way he’s jerking her around. He never comes in the room to do it. This is our safe haven, at least, my mom has done her best to make it that way.
He looks at me with big dark eyes and smiles. I don’t know a lot about people, but I know he’s not being friendly. I’m frightened. I want my mom. I throw myself in between the two of them, squeezing tight to her waist.
“She’s almost old enough,” he says with a gruff laugh. “Maybe it’s time we put you out to pasture, Lucy.”
I have never seen my mother so angry in her life. Even through all this, she’s always been patient and kind. She’s always said prayers instead of swears.
“You motherfucker,” she shouts, pushing me out of the way. She tackles the man to the ground and starts punching him in the face. He is much stronger than her, and soon he rolls his body on top of her, pinning her to the ground. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do, but I’m not going to let him hurt her like that. Not in our safe space.
I run over to him and start kicking him in the side, kicking as hard as my tiny body can. I don’t know if I’m accomplishing anything, but it feels really good.
It doesn’t even faze him. He grabs my mom by the ankles and starts dragging her out of the room as she flails wildly. “We have a deal!” she screams. “You will never lay a finger on my baby!”
“You got some fight in you, Annabella. You’re gonna be a big hit,” he says with a laugh. He slams the door behind him and I instantly burst into tears. I don’t know where they’re taking her. I don’t know when I’m ever going to see her again. I crawl to the door on my hands and knees and start pounding, screaming until my voice is raw. Nobody can hear me. Nobody cares.
I’m angrier than I’ve ever have been in my life, crying so hard I feel like I’m going to throw up. There is no point. There are no horses, only monsters.
19
Ransom:
“She’s sleeping,” I growl, slamming dish after dish into the sink. “We’ll fucking deal with it tomorrow.”
I’m pissed off. I let this bitch in my house. I tried to understand her. I’m trying to fucking help her, and all she does is fight. I brought her into my home to keep her safe. My home. My space. She has zero respect.
Now I got Romeo on my ass trying to shake me down for information.
“Something strange is going down, Ransom. Don’t you let her out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” I say. She’s locked in that room until I can figure out what to do with her. I don’t like being shady with Romeo. He’s been my sponsor since the day I turned up at the clubhouse looking for work. I had nothing and that man taught me how to tear down engines and install custom exhausts in two weeks flat. He gave me my job, he gave me my skills, he changed me from a street thug into a decent hardworking man. A Dead Ringer. I owe him my life, and I don’t even have the decency in me to give him the truth right now.
A glass slips out of my hand onto the hardwood floor, shattering at my feet.
“The fuck are you doing, man?” Romeo asks. “You need to get some rest. You want me to send a prospect over to keep an eye out?”
“It’s under control.” I reach down and grab a chunk of the glass, and it snags on my finger until I bleed. I can’t even feel it.
“I’m just glad you’re ok. That was a close call. You and Driller got a lot of explaining to do, son. Don’t put yourself in shit like that anymore. You know I’m here for you.”
“Got it, chief,” I say, staring at the blood running down my hand, tuning him out.
“I mean it. You haven’t been right since you and Carley split. You shut me out. Shut all us out. Is there something going on I need to know?”
I know he’s genuine, but I also know his allegiance lies with Stoney. As long as he’s the president, it always will. Hell or high water, that man is the final word. It’s been that way since before I was born.
“How’s Stoney?” I ask.
“He’s gonna pull through. He ain’t gonna be right, though. Doctors said his brain looks like roasted cauliflower. Getting shot was probably what saved his life. He might’ve just keeled over and died any day out of the blue if he didn’t get his ass to the hospital. Ain’t that fucked up? Bitch thought she was getting away with something.” He laughs. “Still don’t mean she doesn’t need to learn a lesson.”
“Yeah,” I mumble, completely zoned out.
Annabella saved the day in more ways than one.
Just then, a scream so loud and haunting, like nothing I’ve ever heard in my life, pierces my ears. Another one follows. It’s chilling, like a mother lion finding her cub dead, like all the sadness in the world is contained in that primal howl. It’s painful. It snaps me right out of my daze.
“I gotta go,” I say. “I’ll be at work in the morning.”
“Ransom…” he says, but I hang up before I can say anymore. I run across the broken glass, the screams coming from the room I locked Annabella in growing louder, longer. It’s fucking weird and I hate it. She needs help, and I did this to her.
There’s a loud thud.
I throw open the door as fast as I can and rush inside, only to find her on the floor, looking up at me with her hands in a defensive position, her wide eyes filled with an intense and teary terror. My heart shatters into a million pieces.
She looks so vulnerable.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she stammers in a soft voice. “Please don’t be mad. I’ll be better.”
I drop down to the floor next to her, and she skittishly backs away, curling up into a ball.
“Annabella, stop! I’m not gonna hu
rt you,” I say, but it’s almost like she can’t hear me. Like she’s still asleep. She grabs the comforter off the bed and clutches to it for dear life, her fingers turning white.
She’s white as a ghost, and the instant I touch her face, she starts blinking wildly, like she’s coming back into her body.
“I’m sorry,” she says again. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“Are you alright?” I ask. I want to grab her and hold her. I want to run my fingers through her hair and tell her everything is alright. I want to make damn sure whatever just happened there never happens again. Whoever fucked this girl up did a really good job.
She slowly picks herself up off the floor, her body draped in the comforter, and sits on the edge of the bed. Her body is trembling and her eyes avoid me.
“Annabella, tell me what happened,” I demand.
“Just a bad dream,” she says. “Can you please just leave the door open while I sleep tonight? I promise I won’t go anywhere. I won’t move. I just…”
The pleading tone of her voice makes me feel like I fucked up big time. “Sure,” I say. “Yeah, sure.”
I know in my heart she’s not playing me. I ain’t never heard anybody scream like that before. I can’t take my eyes off her, the haunted look in her eyes, the way she’s still visibly trembling.
“You’re safe here, you know that, right?” I ask. “I’m done with the bullshit. We’re not playing games anymore. The more you tell me, the easier it’s going to be for me to make this all go away. I don’t bullshit. I don’t do temper tantrums, and I don’t do lies. I am who I am and I expect the same respect.”
She blinks at me, her face softening. “You lied about knowing who I was to your men, and you slammed me in this room without so much as an explanation as to what I did to set you off. Maybe you aren’t the man you think you are.”
“That hurts,” I say with a shrug. “But maybe you only see what you want to see.”
“I know why you’re doing all this,” she says. “It’s because you’re in love with my sister. I heard what Decker said.”
I sit down next to her on the bed, the mattress sagging underneath me as I hang my head in my hands and laugh.
“Annabella, you got a lot to learn about this life. That ain’t love, babe. That’s tradition. It’s how we do things around here. All it means is if anything were to ever happen to Driller, Pearl’s one of us. She’ll still be taken care of.” I don’t know why I’m at a loss for words, why I even feel the need to justify what our club’s traditions mean to this woman. Sure, I fucked her sister, but it wasn’t like that. I’m just worried about why the fuck I care.
“Oh,” she says with a shrug.
“Why, you jealous or something?” I look over at her, and her eyes grow large.
“Ha!” she shouts in my face.
“Well, ya should be. It’s considered a privilege around here to sit on this face.”
“You’re sick,” she says, rolling her eyes. I love the way she thinks I can’t tell the way she’s checking me out. The way she holds her breath when I’m near her. The way she looks at me like she’s going to devour me and then backs away and acts all shy. It comes naturally. She doesn’t even realize it, and it’s fucking delicious.
“I really am,” I say, licking my lips. “I’m sick, and I’m sad, and I’m fucked-up in my head, but I do know one thing. I made a promise to Kid to protect you no matter what.” I take her chin in my hands and she tenses her body. “I don’t want to hear you screaming like that anymore.”
The only screams I want to hear from her are the ones I bring out of that delicious mouth. The only cries I want to hear from her are of her begging me for more. The only fighting I want to do is the kind that ends with my dick inside her.
Her lip trembles and it takes all my self-control not to just bite it, to claim her here and now.
“I’m sorry,” she says. She places her hand on top of mine, her fingers ice-cold. Her eyelids droop, and the way her body tenses is like she’s carrying the weight of the world on her back. I haven’t seen her this vulnerable since the moment I met her, and it gives me a different kind of feeling of power and responsibility than I had before. I don’t care what the fuck she did.
No one is going to ever hurt this girl, and whoever has, I’ll deal with them later. She deserves to sleep easy. She deserves everything. She is mine.
“Lay down,” I say, lifting the sheets. “You’re safe. I promise.”
She crawls under the sheet without hesitation, her head sinking into the pillow.
“I believe you,” she says.
I lay the comforter over her and she’s out in an instant, but something she said is going to keep me up all night. Maybe I’m not the man I think I am. Maybe she’s here to show me exactly what kind of man I’m supposed to be.
20
Ransom:
I’ve been fiddle fucking around with the same piston for the last three hours.
Working from home has its benefits, mostly the fact that I don’t have to listen to all the chaos going on down at the shop attached to the clubhouse. Everybody has some insane theory about who Annabella is and what she’s doing here on our turf. They think she’s a Russian spy, they think she’s some woman who escaped from an insane asylum, they think she’s got more bombs planted and more hits to execute. All the more reason for me to keep her out here, which I guess works out better for all of us because I have this overwhelming feeling she’s exactly who she says she is.
I know she didn’t go through all that trouble for no reason. I know Kid sent her here with a clear plan in mind. I just can’t get down to the why. Why would a woman who is perfect in every way be tangled up in shit like this? Makes me sick thinking about how the truth is probably more fucked-up than any bullshit story floating around the clubhouse.
I figured I would hurry up and get my work done so I could take her on a ride, get her to open up a little bit, let me in on that secret life she’s got trapped deep inside. I’m sure if she told me her story, I could fix everything for her. I’m sure the guys in the club would change their tune if they knew exactly what they were dealing with. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking, but with Stoney incapacitated, Driller and I might just be able to get through to them.
I turn my stool away from the TV screen I have on the wall of the garage. Watching her on the security cameras I have set up in the house has been nothing but a major distraction. The way she moves through the rooms when she thinks nobody watching is kind of adorable. She played with the remote on the TV for a solid half hour before putting on some classic rock music channel and dancing around like nobody’s watching, flipping her wild black hair around.
I feel kind of guilty not telling her I can see her, but not guilty enough to stop looking.
I feel kind of special knowing she’s comfortable enough in my home to let herself go like that. Like I’m feeding a baby deer right out of my hand. It’s sick. Makes me feel powerful. Makes me hard.
I watch over my shoulder as she takes the gallon of chocolate milk out of my fridge and puts it right to her lips. I figured we’d be sharing spit at some point, but not quite that innocently. She makes me laugh, even though I know behind all that dancing and innocence there’s darkness.
She disappears into the bathroom, the only place I don’t have a camera set up, and I feel both disappointed in the fact that I don’t have one in there, and disappointed in myself for being such a creep. I can’t help it. It’s been a long lonely winter, and this is the closest thing to live action I’ve had in a while.
It’s the closest thing to live action I’ve even entertained in my mind for a while. Maybe this wild woman fixed me once and for all, aside from the fact that a twenty-minute engine teardown is taking me three hours.
I try to refocus my attention but every time I look at one of the bikes lined up in my garage, I keep thinking about how bad I want to get her on the back of one. I can tell a woman like her will take right to it. Hell, a
woman like her will probably want a bike of her own. I’d make sure she had the best money could buy. Do it all up custom, whatever she wanted. I’d take her everywhere, show her off like the gorgeous trophy she is.
You’re fucking losing it, I remind myself as my ratchet falls to the floor and bounces off the concrete with a loud clank. After Carley, I swore I’d never get all goopy over a bitch again. Especially not one I saw gun down four men without even batting an eye.
I pick up my wrench and damn near smash my head off the tool bench as I catch a glimpse of her coming out of the bathroom wearing nothing but my towel and a smile. I walk over to the screen, hoping maybe that towel might tug up just a little in the back so I can see more of her long curvy legs.
I put my fist to my lips and squint my eyes tight as she throws open my bedroom door. This is so wrong in every possible way. I know she doesn’t know I’m watching, and if I was a better man, I’d definitely stop now. Turn it off. Shut it down. Get back to doing the thing I need to do to put food on the table and keep the lights on.
I can’t look away.
She goes over to my closet and starts flipping through the rack of shirts. There’s something about a woman wearing nothing but a t-shirt that gets me every time. I guess I probably should’ve offered her some clothes or at least asked one of the girls to get me something for her, but I like her like this. Natural. Dependent on me for every single need down to the clothes she’s wearing. That kind of power turns me on.
She stops what she’s doing and walks over to the hamper in the corner of my room. She pulls out one of my shirts and puts it to her nose. My jaw damn near hits the ground as she drops that towel to the floor, sliding my dirty shirt over her head.
She’s definitely a little crazy, but in the best possible way—the way that makes my dick strain in my jeans. She totally wants me. She floats across the room with a little spring in her step, a goofy grin on her face, and flops down on my bed.