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He slowly approaches me, running his fingers through my tangled hair. I jerk away, and so he grabs a fistful, like it belongs to him.
Does it?
“Not only can we take your sister, Charleigh, but we will probably have to shoot your father, too. Right between the eyes.”
This time, my legs buckle, but I am kept from reaching the floor due to Kir’s grip on my hair. The pain is excruciating, and my vision is littered with funny dots of different colors and sizes, and I wonder if this is what it’s like right before a person passes out.
“Up,” he roars, pulling me by the hair.
A sob escapes. Then another. I lose my shit like I never have before, and ugly cry in front of all of them, and I don’t care. I wail as my face distorts and I have snot running from my nose. I am breathing so hard I choke and cough, and no one does anything to help me catch my breath. The worst of it, though, is the pain in my chest where my heart is breaking. I clutch myself there, like I might split in two.
No one helps me.
No one is coming to help me.
* * *
CHAPTERTWELVE
Charleigh
In the farthest corner of the limo that I can, I bury my face in the expensive leather seat. The driver guns it, picking up speed, and I know we are on the freeway without even looking. I don’t care where we are going. It doesn’t matter. All that does, is that I’m being taken away.
I curl myself into a ball, a shell that will keep these men away from me. And yet, in the confines of the limo, their words easily reach my ears, no matter how much I want to drown them out.
“With a little work, she’ll do quite nicely.”
“Small tits, but what can you do?”
“Hey they’re better than those giant things so many of the girls have these days.”
I want to crawl away in shame at their offensive evaluation.
Actually, I want to die.
I don’t know what lies ahead, but I do know it can’t be good. And the fact that my father has completely and totally sold me out is a pain I’m not sure I can live with. My heart hurts. It literally hurts.
Even worse than when my mother died.
We pull up to what must be the guys’ place of business, an old warehouse-looking building with blacked-out windows, and they direct me to a door, also painted a dull black with no exterior handle. If I didn’t know better, I’d think this was another abandoned building in a bad part of town. But when the door opens from the inside as if someone’s watching for us, a statuesque woman ushers us in. For a moment, I wonder if she’ll help me. Another woman will surely understand my plight, won’t she? So, with Kir’s death grip still on my arm, I head straight for her, getting as close as I can. But when I see her eyes in the dim light, really see them, I realize I am well and truly fucked.
* * *
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
Kir
“This isher? The one you told me about?”
Dominika looks Charleigh up and down with clear displeasure. I’m not sure whether she truly disapproves or is just flexing her muscle. Until my Uncle Mikey fled the country a few weeks back, my brothers and I were only peripherally involved with the club. So, perhaps understandably, she’s resentful we’ve taken over. She feels pushed aside. Irritated by our new hands-on approach. But if she doesn’t watch her shitty attitude, she’ll really be pushed aside—likeout on the streetpushed aside.
It's no secret why my father kept her around all these years. Uncle Mikey did the same, but for different reasons, primarily so he didn’t have to do a minute of work, that is, aside from draining the club’s accounts. The woman had free rein of the place for the better part of Mikey’s reign. She’s used to being the queen bee.
But those days are over, and if she can’t hack it, she knows where the goddamn door is.
“Her name is Charleigh, Dominika. Charleigh Gates. To pay her father’s debts, she’s working for us now.”
Dominika sneers distastefully at Charleigh’s blue jeans and well-worn sneakers. I have no doubt the girl’s lack of makeup and simple braid are driving her crazy too.
