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“FreakFlag”—IceNineKills
Guilt started eating at me when he told me everything about him and our situation. If we were going to give being together a shot, he needed to know everything about me.
“I found the background check in your truck,” I mumbled.
“Mmm” was his non-answer to that. It didn’t give me much to go on, so I forged ahead.
“When I’m done with my story, you may change your mind, but I hope not.” I took a deep breath and gave an emotional exhale. Then I sat back on my heels and began.
“Once upon a time I was a good kid. Straight As, held down a job, plans to go to college.” He nodded, telling he was listening.
“My senior year, I met this guy. He came through my line at the grocery store. He was cute, had that bad-boy thing going and all.” At that, Decker snorted, and I gave him a look.
“Sorry, continue,” he said, placing his broad hand on my thigh. It left me momentarily distracted before I shook it off and resumed speaking.
“It started out as smoking a little weed.” My gaze nervously flitted away and around the room. “It quickly progressed. A little Xanax, a Perc here or there, maybe some coke to keep me awake for class. Everything, he supplied. At first.”
The grip on my leg tightened infinitesimally.
“Before I knew it, I needed those drugs. But they weren’t free anymore. There was a price. First, it was stealing from my parents, then my friends. My parents were at a loss. They didn’t know what was going on. I was distant, moody, skipping school, barely graduated. They tried to help me when they found out, but it was a dismal failure because I wasn’t ready for the help. You see, I didn’t think I had a problem.”
A self-deprecating laugh escaped me as I thought about how ignorant I’d been. Decker patiently waited as his hand made soothing circles over the fabric on my thigh.
“Eventually, they washed their hands of me. They couldn’t trust me. By then, I’d lost their backing, lost my friends, hell, I lost myself. He—” I swallowed with difficulty as my mouth went dry. “He started, um, selling me—for money.”
That I’d prostituted myself in exchange for drugs left me filled with such shame that I couldn’t say the actual words.
“By then I’d nearly ceased to exist. My next fix was the only thing that really mattered because it was the only way I could survive what I was doing without losing my mind. It was a vicious circle. Until one day, he went into the gas station for smokes and some food.”
Pressing both palms to my face, I worked up the nerve to finish my shitty story.
“He had me wait at the pump after we got gas. Told me to start the car because it was hot and he wanted the AC on when he came out. Suddenly, he was climbing in and telling me to hurry. I panicked.”
I dropped my hands and tipped my head to stare at the ceiling.
“The next thing I knew, the cops were chasing us. I was freaking out. I was screaming, he was yelling, the sirens, still being a little strung out from the night before, I—” Tears spilled, silently tracking down my cheeks. A stuttering breath calmed me enough to finish.
“I wrecked the car. We got arrested. He’d committed armed robbery in the gas station. I got charged with accessory after the fact. Judge felt bad for me because I was only eighteen, had previously been a good kid, was obviously manipulated, and he had mercy on me.” Jesus, it was hard telling my story. I hadn’t had to do it in years.
“I ended up going to state prison in Gatesville, Texas, for seven years. Mandatory drug rehab program while I was serving my time. After two years, I got out early for good behavior and all that shit. Five years parole, then I hightailed it to Iowa for a fresh start. Only I quickly found out that my past would always follow me.”
“How’s that?” Spoken softly, the words should’ve thrown me for a loop. I’d expected more judgement, so I was surprised when he seemed supportive.
“A few of the cops back in Grantsville. They found out. It was little things. Harassing me, pulling me over for no reason, making innuendos, threats, offering veiled requests for bribes.”
At the grinding sound, I looked down at him to see his jaw clenching. Sorry that he was getting pulled into my mess, I reached out and softly stroked his cheek and over his beard. “Say something,” I whispered.
“Besides me now wanting to murder your stupid fucking ex and the dirty goddamn cops back there, I really don’t know what to do or say,” he finally growled out.
“Nothing for you to say, I guess. I just thought you might want to consider the ramifications of my past on your club. Which I didn’t realize you were part of, by the way,” I said in apology. He appeared to consider it, then he absently pulled on his lip piercings with his teeth before he spoke.
“I’m not worried about your past. Not the way you think I am. Jesus fucking Christ, you were a kid. How old was that guy?”
“He was twenty-seven,” I mumbled.
“You really do have a thing for older guys, don’t you?” he said, and I opened my mouth to argue, but he placed a finger over my mouth. “Easy, babe. I was teasing you. Look, we can keep you safe here. There are things that are club business that I can’t get into with you, but trust me when I say your past is of no concern to me.” He reached up and gripped the back of my neck, pulling me down.
“Why didn’t you just ask me about my past? Instead of running a background check?” I asked when our lips were a hairsbreadth apart.
