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I still planned to flee when my daughter was old enough. I did my best to remain baby-free as I hid every dollar, quarter, and penny I could. Once Beau came along, though, I realized my chance at freedom was over for a while.
Until a beast of a man arrived to free me from one prison with a promise of a better one in McMurdo Valley.
During the drive to his house, I steal glances at Nomad. He always reacts, sensing my gaze on him. He isn’t like the men who owned me before. For one thing, he’s twice their size. When he hits me, it’ll do more than hurt.
I remind myself how tender he was with the kids tonight. The way he picked up Beckett’s stuffed truck. Or how he used their names as if they were real people rather than toys for his amusement.
With Nomad, I might find a man willing to pamper them and only punish me.
If my babies are safe, I’m willing to ignore my suffering.
Neal’s rage at his daughter never faded despite how she grew into a beautiful child with his bright blue eyes. He wasn’t fond of any of his offspring. Neal was embarrassed by Beau’s delays. He claimed Brooklyn acted “goofy.” I suspect her birth mom used drugs while pregnant. Brooklyn’s always had trouble settling herself.
Right now, she keeps trying to climb out of her seat. Next to her, Beckett is sound asleep and snoring. Neal used to complain about the boy’s problem.
“What the fuck is wrong with him?” he would demand as if I was giving him defective children.
When I suggested maybe we should stop making new kids so we could focus on the ones we already had, he became enraged. Neal was right to worry. Once the kids got old enough and I saved some money, I was abso-fucking-lutely planning to bolt into the night.
When Brooklyn starts flipping out in her seat, I ask Nomad, “How much longer?”
“Five minutes,” he says casually as if tonight’s events are par for the course in his life. “We’d already be there, but I’m driving slow for the kids.”
I don’t hide how I’m staring at him. Nomad is a terrifying man. He looks crazy with his wild hair and thick beard. I can imagine his huge hands wrapped around my throat, ending me with ease. Yet, the beastly biker speaks with an icy calm. I’m almost lulled by how relaxed he seems as we drive the quiet roads.
“They’ll get loud soon,” I warn him.
“Most of my club brothers and our one club sister live in a place together. The Pigsty gets so loud sometimes from them all talking over each other,” Nomad explains and smiles. “And they’re not scared little kids. People are just loud.”
His response inspires me to share his smile.Could Nomad be a good man despite the way he looks, how he rides with the Steel Berserkers Motorcycle Club, and the fact that he killed my husband?
Despite mimicking his smile, I’m not naïve enough to fully trust his response. People lie to themselves more than to others. He might actually think he’s fine with the noise. My kids are about to test his resolve.
Brooklyn screams when she can’t escape the car seat. Beckett is startled awake and begins wailing. Beau’s been so good in the very back. However, he can’t see me and isn’t used to being out in the dark. His siblings’ commotion sets off his barking-cry.
I wait for Blair to break, too. She barely cried at the clinic. She acted unbothered at the house when this large man said he killed her father. But she’s only a kid.
The SUV turns into a nearly hidden road in the woods. As the kids hit a fevered pitch, we’re surrounded by trees and complete darkness. I grip the door handle, feeling like we’re driving straight to hell.
As the trees part, I catch sight of a large house in the distance. Lights line the road now. White lights hang from trees, making the open area sparkle.
However, nothing short of getting out of the car will silence the kids.
Nomad pulls the SUV down a large driveway and parks in front of a five-car garage. I frown at him, wondering if he lives here with a bunch of his people. Is this the Pigsty? If so, the name doesn’t do it justice.
Nomad calmly climbs out of the SUV and walks around to open the door for me. I nearly fall out. I’m so tired yet I force my legs to keep moving. Brooklyn’s freedom cuts the noise in half. She stands on the paved driveway and giggles at the lights.
“Who you?” she asks a man and woman who walk over.
I suspect they’re close to Nomad’s age, maybe a little older. Based on their body language, I sense they’re a couple. Her dark hair hangs loose like her shirt and skirt, giving her a hippie vibe. His thick beard and a plaid shirt give him a lumberjack vibe.
“I’m Rosemary,” she says, bending forward to look at my messy-haired baby girl. “This is Woodrow. What’s your name?”
“Nooklyn,” she says as if they should already know that.
Once I take him out of his seat, Beckett doesn’t want me to put him down. He’s panicking now. Gripping me, he has to climb up high to get over my baby bump.
Nomad removes the car seat to allow Beau and Blair to climb out.
