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I can barely keep the tears at bay as I press my hands over my eyes, the visions of the man from the Kings fading into thin air.
“Molly!” he repeats, angrier this time and already slurring his words.
“I’m coming!” I snap. I gather myself together and head to the door, my face already a mask of indifference. Any sign that I was just masturbating to thoughts of the new visitor is completely gone. Not that any of these morons would ever be observant enough to notice.
As I cross the hall to head to the bathroom, I cut a glance over to Hammerhead’s office down the hall, where they are speaking in low tones now, and my heart pangs with the thoughts again of that man, the Ruthless King, getting me out of here.
You’d think with everything I’ve endured, I would be afraid of sex. That I’d have a complete distaste for it. But I don’t. Like the hope that continues to fuel me, I still find myself wanting to believe that I can have a healthy relationship with somebody. One that includes physical intimacy. Even though I’ve experienced so many horrible things, I still have to remember what true intimacy could mean. Before I was abducted, I always thought it was a beautiful thing that two people could share. Against the odds, I still believe that.
I’m not saying the Kings’ VP is the man for me. I’m not saying we’re even compatible that way. Or any way for that matter. Hell, I don’t even know his name. But there was a kindness and compassion in his eyes that struck a chord in me. When his eyes met mine and I saw a look in his eye that said he saw me—really saw me—and not just as a sex toy, I felt something inside of me shift. I have no idea what it was, but it ushered in a lot of thoughts I’ve kept hidden from everybody—especially from Hammerhead.
The way he looked at me filled me with a warmth that started in my belly and spread outward. That warmth filled every square inch of my body, and I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. I don’t know what came over me just now to have a full-blown sex fantasy about the man. It was only a fleeting glance. But feeling like I’d really been seen by somebody blew a little more oxygen onto those tiny flames inside of me, giving them a little more life.
Of course, there’s a cynical voice in my mind that always has to chime in, and this time, it’s telling me that I’m only feeling this way because the VP is somebody new. Somebody different. And God knows when the last time was that I saw somebody who wasn’t a Howler. That cynical voice is trying to tell me that what I feel is false only because of a lack of options. Not because it’s a real feeling.
It’s also telling me that I might have seen in his gaze what I wanted to see. Not what was really there. It tells me I’m so desperate for something, for anything, to break up the monotony of my days that I’ll grasp onto anything and make it out to be something it’s not. Maybe I’m reading way too much into what really was only a fleeting glance. For all I’m letting myself believe, the VP might be in Hammerhead’s office trying to buy me off. Another trafficker just like the Deviants.
I admit, it’s possible. But something tells me that’s not what’s going on. I want to believe his gaze was more meaningful than my cynical voice will give it credit for. He didn’t have that, “I just want to use you for sex” look on his face. I’ve seen that many more times than I can count on the faces of the Howlers, and this man just didn’t have that. His was a look of curiosity, open and honest sincerity—and of course, one of attraction.
I can’t say that I didn’t look at him the same way. Especially after where my mind just went. It’s like what we shared was a spark. Of what, I’m not so sure. But there was something between us.
I have nothing to back it up and no way to prove that of course. But that’s what I’m going to choose to believe since I know that believing those things will nurture that spark inside of me. It will fuel the hope that sustains me. And there will hopefully come a time when I can utilize that hope to find a way out of this mess.
A way out of this mess and into the life I want. The life I deserve.
CHAPTERSIX
Hammerhead drops his considerable bulk into the chair behind his desk. It groans ominously but manages to avoid collapsing beneath him. I lower myself into the hard plastic lawn chair in front of his desk, setting the bag down at my feet. I light up another cigarette and take a drag. Tilting my head back, I blow a plume of smoke toward the ceiling, then lower my gaze to Hammerhead again.
“What’s going on out here, man?” I start.
“Not much,” he says. “Just doing our thing—”
“That’s not what I mean,” I cut him off. “Your place looks like absolute dogshit and you look even worse.”
His face darkens and he looks down at himself, frowning. I can see my words pissed him off, but he knows what’s in my bag, so he holds his tongue. But I want some answers.
“Listen, man, I didn’t want to do this in front of your boys but you’re falling apart. You can’t fill out a football team with your club membership, morale seems like it’s in the toilet, and the only one who looks like he still has his head on straight is Hogwild,” I tell him, my voice low and hard. “You’re supposed to be looking after our interests, but it looks like your entire house is coming down around your ears, man. It doesn’t look like we’re getting value for the money we’re paying you. So, let me ask again—what in the hell is going on out here?”
He sighs and runs a hand across his face, the stubble on his cheeks making a dry, scratchy sound. Hammerhead starts bouncing his leg underneath his desk, acting squirrely. Like a junkie who needs his fix.
“Things got complicated, man,” he finally admits. “We had some guys who weren’t loyal to the club… had to clean those fuckers out. We’ve had some pushback from the Desert Deviants… things have been gettin’ hairy out here.”
“Hairy how?”
“The Deviants been trying to take back what’s ours,” he explains. “Some of my guys… they made a side deal. We suffered some losses. But listen, I’m on top of it. We’re good here.”
“It doesn’t look like it from where I stand,” I tell him. “You’re supposed to be keepin’ our territory and our supply lines open.”
“And we are, man. There hasn’t been no disruption in supply, has there?”
“Actually, there has. We’ve missed a couple of shipments the last few months,” I tell him. “Reaper tells me—”
“When the hell did Reaper get to be Prez anyway?” he interrupts me.
“A while back,” I reply noncommittally.
“Seems to me you should be letting your allies know what’s really going on. Here I thought we’d be working with Old Grim, and I come to find his own son has deposed him and installed you as VP?”
