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Wraith lifted both hands in the air, grinning as he held the razor and jiggled it. “Don’t you want to look pretty?”
That was all Rael could handle. He flipped us both off before stalking down the hall toward his room, mumbling obscenities under his breath. Half his head was shaved bald as a newborn baby’s ass while the other was covered in shaving cream. Looked funny as fuck with the duct tape going down the center.
“I guess that means you’re off the hook,” I announced to Wraith when I was done laughing.
“Thank fuck. I couldn’t handle much more.” He tossed the razor onto a nearby table as Snooki entered the room. “Hey, honey,” he called out, sauntering her way.
Shaking my head, I stepped outside, pulling my smokes from my cut. Once the cancer stick was between my lips, I lit the bastard and inhaled deeply as I leaned against the edge of a picnic table.
Ever since Grim learned he was gonna have a kid he kept spending money on shit for the outside of the clubhouse. We had a covered picnic area, new grills, and a fucking playground that was supposed to be delivered by Friday. Some kind of bouncy turf was installed yesterday in preparation.
It wasn’t completely ridiculous. Bodie and Sasha’s son Mavy was due in September. Sasha’s best friend Gina brought her kids Rev and Olivia around often. Cindi was going to have a girl with Lucky. The club was growing and we had more ol’ ladies than anyone could remember in the Tonopah chapter in a long time.
I couldn’t imagine having a kid and bringing one into this fucked-up world. I’d seen some bad shit overseas and that wasn’t the worst of it. My Reaper had taken souls so dark and evil that I was certain it wasn’t safe to become a father. Besides, I’d murder a motherfucker in cold blood if he did something to my kid and bury the bones out in the Nevada desert where no one would ever find them.
My Reaper was already far too protective over Mimi. Wasn’t a good idea to add anyone else into the mix. The life I led wasn’t the right place for kids or family. Didn’t judge my brothers but that shit wasn’t happening for me.
No way.
An arm was slung around my waist as I awakened, briefly disoriented as I stayed completely still. Steady, even breathing could be heard as the man beside me slept soundly. Warm breath kept tickling the back of my neck and I moved slowly, pulling away as I let his arm slip to the mattress. My feet landed on the floor without a sound as I turned and watched Patriot, his expression relaxed in a way I never saw in the light of day.
It was strange to be so near to a man and not be servicing his needs. A part of me would probably always struggle with that, my body poised to run from the room and as far and fast as I could. Shivering, I wrapped my arms around my waist and tried to slow the frantic beats of my heart. There was no danger here and sometimes it was still so hard to remember that I didn’t exist for only a man’s pleasure.
My life held little worth for the last few years. I wanted to find meaning again and a place where I belonged. There was a desperate longing to be loved and accepted that probably had everything to do with the fact that I had been torn down to the basest level of survival and now that I no longer fought for every breath or clawed my way through each and every single day, I needed to feel safety, security, and love so fiercely that I thought my chest would burst with the emotion.
No one should ever be forced to endure what I did.
Maybe that was why this entire situation was so tragic. I’d had the best chance for success and still messed it all up.
My childhood had been a good one. Proud parents, a sweet sister, decent upbringing. But the drugs changed it all. Addiction didn’t care who you were, where you came from, or what life you had. Just sank their greedy little claws under your skin and burrowed deep. It was nearly impossible to pull those barbs free.
Trust me, I’d tried on many occasions. It wasn’t like I was clueless to the destruction in my life or how it affected my family. I lost count of the years and broken promises, of the regret and lies. I’d fallen so deep into the abyss that I’d never be free.
Alexi knew this. He took advantage, pushed the drugs and booze, the parties, and the sex until I wasn’t sober long enough to figure out his plans. I’d been caught in his trap. Before long, I was passed around and shoved into any open bedroom, forced to endure humiliating and degrading acts until they became the norm and I didn’t fight them anymore. I ceased to be surprised or horrified. Nothing more than a performer, a money maker with gold between her silken thighs. He used me. Abused me. Broke me down until I was nothing left.
Nylah tried to reach out to me but I kept her at a distance on purpose. They would have taken her too. I couldn’t allow that. My soul was bargained to save my sister and other girls from the same fate. Not that it mattered. The trafficking only got worse.
No one understood that loss of control or the reasons why the drugs became my savior, preventing the total loss of my sanity. I separated reality from fiction the only way I could. Addiction was my only escape. Even now, I was still going through withdrawals. I craved a cigarette and a shot of strong liquor but I wouldn’t give in. Not now. I’d come too far and sacrificed too much.
Naomi Peters would never be that addicted, unhealthy, traumatized girl again. I’d do anything to keep her safe. Anything to prevent falling that
low ever again.
I was a survivor now. I’d been rescued by a biker in a patriotic bandana in the middle of the night at my lowest point. That had to count for something.
Patriot made me want to believe in something more, that I wasn’t just lost in the past and broken beyond repair. He told me so not long ago . . .
MY ENTIRE REALITY HAD shifted. I was helpless to control a single aspect of it. Terrified and haunted, I rocked back and forth on the floor of the shower, crouching down on the tile as my tears mixed with the swirling water. I was trembling, my mind trying to grasp the fact that my reality no longer consisted of fear, intimidation, and humiliation almost every minute of the day. A sob escaped my throat and I couldn’t hold back as my shoulders shook with the force of my cries.
“Sunshine?”
Patriot’s concerned voice could be heard on the other side of the door.
Unable to answer, I stayed where I was, broken and lost.
He opened the opposite door and switched off the water, closing it again quickly. A few seconds later he opened the far side, a huge towel in his arms. Reaching in, he lifted me carefully and surrounded my body with the towel, ensuring every single inch was covered from chest to calf. Taking another, he wrapped up my hair with a tenderness I hadn’t known in so long I forgot it existed.
Patriot’s eyes never once dipped down. They didn’t linger on my body or lewdly appraise my assets. He didn’t sneer or grab me or shove his hand between my legs.
