by J. A. Owenby
We all broke into laughter, and the conversation took a natural turn. Gemma was right—I wasn’t ready to have an open discussion about my abduction yet. The mere thought curdled my stomach like sour milk.
The rest of the afternoon was way more entertaining than I’d hoped for. Mac and Gemma were hilarious, and I found myself easily cracking jokes with them. They were also super positive, which I needed. A shred of hope rose inside me. If they were this happy after surviving trauma, maybe I could be, too. Perhaps I could still live out the dreams I’d once had, or at least find new ones.
Once the girls had helped me select a dress for the party, we shopped for more casual clothing, ballet shoes, and workout clothes. I hadn’t realized how much I had isolated myself over the last ten months until we had spent the majority of the day together.
Later that afternoon, Sutton pulled into the driveway and parked the car.
“Do you mind if I grab my bags, a light dinner, and go to the studio?” Although I’d had fun, dancing hadn’t been far from my mind, and I was eager to have some time alone.
“Of course not. I have some work to catch up on anyway. Before I forget, Pierce and I will be gone tomorrow due to work, but we’ll be home around five to get ready for the party.”
“Thanks for letting me know.” I gave her a wide smile as I excused myself to change clothes.
For the next few hours, I danced until my legs were so tired and shaky that I wondered if they would carry me up the stairs. I was seriously out of practice, but not for long. I would be here every day, building up my strength.
I grabbed the indigo-colored hand towel from the lower barre and glanced at myself in the mirror. My cheeks flamed red, and strands of my hair had escaped my bun, sticking out in multiple directions. I tried to smooth them back, to no avail.
I wiped the sweat from my face and neck, noting that there was nothing feminine about how I smelled at the moment. “Eww.” I scrunched up my nose as I turned off the studio light. Flinging the door open, I was greeted by a pair of mismatched eyes.
“Shit!” I yelped, flailing backward. I smacked the unforgiving floor ass first. Tucking my head down, I attempted to control the pain that shot through my tailbone.
“Dammit, Claire.” Vaughn kneeled beside me. “Are you okay? I didn’t realize you were in the studio. I heard the door creak and came to investigate. I was working out.”
I lifted my head and peered at Vaughn with one eye. “Give me a minute,” I whispered, attempting to control the white-hot pain.
“Let me help you up.”
Before I could object, Vaughn moved behind me and slipped his arms beneath mine. I was on my feet in seconds.
“Thanks,” I muttered. Finally, I looked up at him—all sweaty, muscular six-foot-two of him. “I’m fine.” Goosebumps dotted my arms while the discomfort began to ease.
“Are you sure?” He reached out to touch me and jerked his hands away as though I’d burned him.
“Really?” I huffed. The sudden thought of my hands wrapped around his neck flashed through my mind. He let me suck his dick, and now he wouldn’t touch me? My eyes narrowed, red-hot anger bubbling beneath the surface. I glared at him. Did he think I was disgusting? Was that why he’d stopped me from finishing him off at the wedding? “You’re afraid to touch me?”
“No. It’s not …” Vaughn’s gaze lingered on my face, then his expression softened, and he placed his hands on his hips.
I finally realized he was shirtless, and I was transfixed for a moment. It took all of my effort not to gawk while I allowed my attention to slowly travel over every toned ripple of his pecs and six-pack.
“I’m not afraid to touch you, but I’ve learned to ask for permission in my line of work. It’s how I’ve been trained. I guess I’ve already broken that rule with you, though.”
“You don’t have to ask, Vaughn.” I could give him the benefit of the doubt. It made sense, after all.
Relief flooded over me with his explanation. I wasn’t interested in tiptoeing around each other because of a fifteen-second blowjob incident. I would have to make sure we weren’t in the same workout space again, though. A bead of perspiration trickled down his chest and stomach, and it took everything inside me not to lick it off, savoring every salty droplet from his skin.
I chastised myself, forcing my attention back to the matter in front of me. “Thank you for helping me off the floor,” I said, in an attempt to smooth the awkwardness between us.
“I’m sorry it came across wrong. Hell, I shouldn’t have even picked you up without your permission. It just freaked me out. I thought you were really hurt.” Vaughn wiped his forehead with the back of his hand.
“I think I’m okay. My ass hurts, but I’m going to soak in an Epsom salt bath tonight anyway. After that workout, my entire body will be screaming at me tomorrow, but I’ll be back regardless.” A smile pulled at the corner of my mouth.
In a fleeting second, Vaughn’s guard dropped, and his attention wavered from my face as he greedily assessed me. He paused quickly on my chest, then his gaze lingered on my flat stomach and down my long, toned legs. My booty shorts didn’t cover much, which was by design. They allowed unrestricted movement while dancing, but apparently they were teasing the forbidden fruit.
He swallowed hard, jerking his eyes back to my face. “How long have you danced?” Vaughn walked backward a few steps, only looking away while he sat down on the cushion of the weight bench. He grabbed his grey hand towel and wiped his forehead and chest.
“Since I was five.” I folded my arms over my stomach and waited to see if he would continue to ply me with small talk.
“You’re eighteen, right?” He frowned as his full lips formed the word eighteen.
“Nope. I’ll be twenty in two more months, so I’ve been dancing for almost fifteen years, more or less.”
“That’s a long time. Have you ever wanted to dance professionally?”
“You mean like with a pole?” I wanted to giggle my ass off at the stunned expression on his face. I would have bet a hundred dollars that he was imagining me topless with one leg wrapped around a stripper pole.
“N-N-No,” he stuttered, waving his hands in front of himself. The poor guy wasn’t catching a break tonight.
I barked out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying making him uncomfortable. “I knew what you meant, but it was a great opportunity to fuck with you. To answer your question, no. I’ve danced competitively, but I don’t have the perfect build for a professional dancer. My boobs are too big, and I refuse to starve myself so I’m acceptable enough to perform with a company. No guy has ever had an issue performing lifts with me anyway.”
His chuckle rumbled through his chest, sending delicious shivers over my sweat-soaked body.
“I need to go take a hot bath, but thanks for making sure I wasn’t injured.” Without another glance in his direction, I left the gym. Once I was safely in my bedroom, I closed the door and stripped out of my dance clothes. My iPhone chimed with a text alert, and I strolled toward my nightstand. As I tapped the screen, a sickening combination of fear and shock overwhelmed me. My hands shook violently, and my phone clattered to the floor.
5
I hauled ass to the bathroom and flipped up the lid of the commode before my dinner landed noisily in the toilet. Sweat dotted my forehead as I tried to calm my frantic pulse, but the moment I closed my eyes, Coen’s blank stare was all I saw. He was gone. He’d warned me, then the MC club had caught him and slit his throat. He’d bled out on the floor with no one there to comfort him. If there had been any part of me that thought they were just fucking around, it was gone. I was a hundred percent certain they would come after me next.
Sobs wracked my body, and I collapsed to my knees, my shoulders shaking with grief. There was no more hiding my mess from my family. They had to know. They needed protection as much as I did. I wiped the tears from my cheeks and stood on wobbly legs. Flushing the toilet, I leaned against the wall for support, my
skin clammy from my still churning stomach.
The text had come from an unknown number, but there was no doubt in my mind that Saul had sent the picture and the message. You can’t hide for long, little bitch. He had named me Little Bitch. Not Tucker, but Saul.
Unsteadily, I made my way to the faucet and turned on the cold water. I splashed my face, brushed my teeth, and inhaled sharply. What was I going to tell Sutton? I had been sworn to secrecy, but this shit show now included her, Mom, and Dad. I had enough secrets to understand how devastating they could be. Unfortunately, she and Pierce would be gone all day tomorrow. But no matter what, I promised myself I would tell them first thing after the party.
I smoothed my hands over the emerald, floor-length dress, the silk material tickling my palms. I blew out a long breath. After last night’s text, fear had wrapped her cold fingers around my chest and refused to let go. Sleep had evaded me, and I was exhausted. But for tonight, I had to tuck my emotions away into a little box and lock it down tightly. At one time, I’d hoped being surrounded by sexy, badass bodyguards would be an advantage. What I hadn’t counted on was how perceptive they all were. Even though I had ramped up my attempts to protect them from the truth, it would all come to light later, when I sat Sutton and Pierce down and begged for mercy. If they didn’t forgive me, what was left of my heart would wither and fade away into nothing. My family was the only thing that mattered to me anymore. I tightened my hands into fists and allowed the pain of my fingernails to dig into my skin. It was better than thinking about what I had to do tonight.
Maybe it was stupid, but I was also nervous about the upscale event. I pulled my iPhone out of my black satin clutch and checked my hair and makeup for the umpteenth time. Sutton had swept my long blonde hair up into a bun, then curled spirals around my face. She’d also loaned me a pair of emerald-and-diamond earrings and the matching pendant. This was the first occasion in several years that I felt beautiful again. After the abduction and strange men pawing at me consistently, it had stripped away my self-worth, tossing it on the dirty ground for others to trample on. By the time I’d been rescued, only fragmented pieces of my soul were left, and I wasn’t sure how to stitch them back together.
I’d attended a ton of parties, but not like this one, with upper-class and wealthy elitists. I swallowed and concentrated on the massive mahogany front door of Sutton and Pierce’s home. I eyed the wood beams across the vaulted ceiling and focused on the slow and steady spin of the fan while I attempted to calm my nerves. Once again, my mind scrambled for the right words to say to Pierce and Sutton tonight. My stomach twisted violently at the mere thought, but after losing Coen, there was no other choice.
A low whistle sounded behind me, and I spun around on my heels.
“Absolutely stunning,” Pierce said, his smile easing across his handsome face and reflecting affection and respect.
“Thank you,” I said, suddenly feeling shy as I smoothed the snug bodice again. “You’re sure it’s okay for tonight?”
Pierce adjusted his black tux jacket and bow tie. “The green is a fantastic choice for you. Not to mention, I’m the luckiest guy alive. I have not one beautiful woman on my arm tonight, but two.”
I cursed the blush that feathered my cheeks. Although Pierce was my brother-in-law, I wasn’t used to his attention yet. There was no doubt in my mind that his intentions were pure, but that hadn’t been my experience in the past, and an uncomfortable silence hung in the air between us while I struggled for something else to say.
Pierce adjusted his cufflinks and smiled. “Claire, I realize it’s going to take some time, but I hope that while you’re here, you see first-hand that all men aren’t bastards. You deserve to be treated well.”
“They are bastards,” I said softly, appreciating his words more than he would ever realize.
“I’m coming,” Sutton said, holding up the hem of her royal-blue dress so she wouldn’t trip on it as she descended the stairs. “Wow, you look beautiful.” She assessed me, her expression lighting up with her approval.
The front door opened, and Vaughn along with Zayne Wilson sauntered into the foyer.
“Boss,” Vaughn said, saluting Pierce with a playful grin on his face.
“Reporting for duty,” Zayne added, finishing Vaughn’s sentence.
I bit my cheek in an attempt to keep my tongue in my mouth; drooling wouldn’t be appropriate. Holy shit. Three hot men were standing next to me. Heat simmered through my body while I remembered how long it had been since I’d gotten laid. Too. Damn. Long.
“Zayne, do you remember Sutton’s sister, Claire?” Pierce shoved his hands in his pockets, his penetrating gaze communicating with his employees.
“Hi.” I extended my hand to him. “We met at the wedding, but it’s nice to see you again.”
Zayne’s green eyes flashed with appreciation while his attention glided over my body, pausing on my cleavage and hips, then traveled up slowly to my face. “Welcome to Spokane, Claire.”
His deep, throaty voice sent ripples of desire through me. For the first time in my nineteen years, I considered what it would be like to have a male harem. I was accustomed to unwanted threesomes, but in this one, I would be a willing participant. Vaughn, Zayne, and me. The delicious thought bloomed to life inside me, and my core pulsed with the idea.
Vaughn cleared his throat, and Zayne released my hand. “Isn’t it time to go, boss?” His voice was hard, and his shoulders were rigid as his attention bounced between Zayne and me.
“It is. Claire will ride with us while you guys follow in one of the company cars.” Pierce extended his arm to me, and I looped mine through his. With one move, he’d re-established his protective boundary between me and the men. Typically, that would piss me the hell off, but I needed his protection more than he realized.
The half-hour drive was uneventful, but it allowed me to ponder my next step. But that was the problem. I was exhausted. Even before the abduction, I was constantly scheming of a way to take down the Motorcycle club, which left me a wide-open target if Saul or any of the others caught on. Until now, my luck had held out. A sharp stab to my heart brought tears to my eyes. Coen had risked his life to save mine.
“We’re here,” Pierce announced while he pulled the black Mercedes up to the valet parking in the circular driveway.
I forced the lump of grief down while a guy dressed in a black tux hurried to my side, opened the door, and helped me out of the vehicle.
“Thank you,” I said, squaring my shoulders and reminding myself that I was worthy of being here with Sutton and Pierce. At least that was what I told myself. I wasn’t sure I would ever ditch the shit Tucker had said to me. Whore. Slut. Worthless piece of shit. For some reason, his words gutted me, but I could handle a slap to my face or a booted kick to my back. Tucker was smart enough never to leave any bruises where my parents would see them and question what had happened.
Sutton and I waited next to the entrance while Pierce, Zayne, and Vaughn joined us. The white colonial mansion was worthy of a magazine cover. Every detail of the freshly manicured lawn, stone statues of angels, and waterfalls lulled me in.
“Are Zayne and Vaughn here as our bodyguards tonight?” I asked Sutton.
“Yes. Unless Pierce has a client that he has no other choice than to assign them to, they’re ours.” Sutton smoothed a stray curl from my cheek, her compassionate stare connecting with mine. “I’m glad you’re here.”
“Me, too.” I offered her a genuine smile, soothing her unspoken concern that I wasn’t all right. But no one could live through hell like I had and walk away unscathed. Every rape, every drug I put up my nose, every time Tucker or Saul traded me for sex—they had all left scars so deep, they would never heal. I was damaged goods. A ball of emotion worked its way into my throat, and I struggled to maintain my composure.
Pierce stepped between his wife and me, offering his arms to us while Zayne and Vaughn followed. Maybe I had imagined it, but I swore I could feel Zayne’
s and Vaughn’s heated gazes on my ass, and for a minute I swished my hips just for them. Sometimes I couldn’t switch off old habits. I was used to performing for men, but with these two, it was a little different. I liked both of them. For a change, I was surrounded by good guys other than my dad.
Pierce’s chuckle rumbled through his chest while he slipped his arm around my back. “If I land this client, I’ll take you and Sutton anywhere you want to go for a week. Fiji, the Caribbean, India. Wherever your heart desires.”
My mouth opened and closed, words escaping me at the idea of having a vacation I’d only dreamed of.
“From your expression, I’ll take that as a yes.” A lopsided grin pulled at the corner of his lips. “That is my favorite part of being wealthy, Claire. Fun surprises for the people I love.”
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Westbrook.” A tall, slim man in his late twenties opened the front door of the residence for us.
“Thank you,” Sutton said, gracing him with a beautiful smile.
“Wow!” I eeped while we joined at least a hundred people in the house. My mind scrambled to take it all in. Columns, white marble floors, painted ceilings, chandeliers, and a black baby grand piano beautifully accentuated the home. “Holy shit,” I muttered to Pierce. “I thought your penthouse in Oregon was elegant.”
“It’s exquisite, isn’t it?” he asked.
I released Pierce’s arm, my head turning in every direction while I absorbed all the beauty this mansion had to offer.
“Mr. Westbrook, I’m Anthony. Mr. Briggs has requested you and your lovely wife’s presence upon your arrival.”
“Thank you, Anthony. Please lead the way.” Pierce gave me an encouraging wink while we followed Anthony.
My heels clicked across the floor, my anxiety climbing to a new high. There were so many people, and I was about to be left alone. I grabbed a champagne flute off a tray a beautiful, dark-haired woman was carrying around. I caught myself before I slammed it down. This wasn’t the club; this was high society. I had to keep my shit together in order not to disappoint Sutton and Pierce.