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Chapter Sixteen
Alex
I’VE BEEN AT Reaper’s house for a few days now. The days have been long and busy even though I really have nothing to do. One of the Prospects got us groceries after I made a list and filled Reaper’s kitchen with food, drinks, and anything else I could think of. He didn’t complain once as he shopped, brought them back, and helped me put them away. I think that one’s name is Jay. If he can’t stay with me, a kid named Jameson is with me. Both guys are very respectful and stay outside whether I invite them into the house or not. I’m not sure what that’s about, but I don’t force the issue and haven’t talked to Reaper about it yet.
While Reaper is gone during the day, I try to find things to occupy me. There really isn’t anything for me to do here other than clean a house that’s already clean and sit around. Most days, I sit at the pool’s edge with my feet in the water. One thing not a lot of people know about me is I have no clue how to swim. I was never allowed to go to friends’ houses because I didn’t have any. We didn’t take family vacations to the lake or ocean. Even when I moved in with Troy, who has a large pool at his home, I was never allowed in the water. Now, even though I stay at the shallow end, I’m scared of falling into the water and drowning. That’s not something Reaper needs to come home to. Still, I can’t stay away from the pool when the sun is shining bright in the sky and it’s hot as Hades outside.
If Jameson is watching over me, he’ll sit back with me. He’s never once asked why I don’t get in or wear something other than a tank top and shorts. Rebel went shopping for me as Reaper said she would. She bought me shorts, jeans, tank tops, some tee shirts, and the toiletries I put on the list. Things I know Troy would never let me use or wear. Items I wanted because I like the way they smell.
Another thing I was never allowed to do with my family and Troy. The shorts she bought me aren’t too short and somewhat loose on me. With the lack of appetite, I’m not surprised I’ve lost weight.
Reaper came home yesterday with a new phone for me. It’s a smartphone and one my parents don’t know about. When I left Troy’s house, one of the things I left behind was the phone he’d bought me. There is no doubt in my mind he had a tracker on the damn thing and would know exactly where I was before I even knew where I was. That’s one of the reasons I took enough cash with me to buy a new car, so he couldn’t track the one he allowed me to drive. Well, when I needed to go to the store for him or do one errand or another, he demanded I do. You know, it’s a wife’s job and not one of his many mistresses.
Doc came to see me too. He’s an older gentleman with salt and pepper hair and a pleasant smile. As he checked me over and looked closely at the medicine the horrible doctor in the hospital prescribed me, I could see the anger filling his eyes as he took in the healing cuts, fading bruising, and other damage Troy inflicted on my body. When he saw the scar I’ve had for over a year now on my forehead, I thought the man’s head was going to burst into flames. Troy gave me a cut in my hairline when he pushed me so hard I slammed into the rough edging of the fireplace and sliced a two-and-a-half-inch gash in my forehead. Still, he looked at me with a smile on his face and a gentleness I’ve only experienced with Reaper. He let us know the medications were okay and told me I didn’t need to take the pain medicine if I didn’t want to. However, I did need to finish up the few days I had left of the antibiotics.
Today, it’s chilly and rainy outside, so I’m going to spend the day cooking and baking. Something I love to do and have never really been given a chance to do so. One of the many cooks, Rosita, my father hired, would let me help her in the kitchen. At least until he found out and fired her ass. I cried for days on end because she loved me like a grandmother and didn’t care about the million and one questions I asked whenever she was cooking or baking something. After she was fired, I never once stepped foot in my parent’s kitchen again. Or tried to get close to any of their staff. Even at a young age, I didn’t want the guilt of them losing their job in my head.
Walking around the kitchen, I pull out all the ingredients I’ll need to make chocolate chip muffins, brownies with peanut butter in them, and a roast with all the fixings for dinner. Reaper has a crockpot, and I plan on putting it to use today. Cutting up all the vegetables, I add them to the pot where the roast is already resting. Adding in the seasoning, I pour water over the mixture and place the lid on top before turning it on. With that ready to go, I begin making the muffins and brownies. The brownies were always one of my favorites when Rosita was still employed. She would make them for me at least once a month; they were our secret. I’m still not sure how she pulled it off, but she did.
When I was a little girl, my parents enrolled me in dance. I loved to dance and twirl around all over the place. It was the only thing my father allowed me to do because he believed it would make me graceful and gain the poise I was so clearly lacking in his mind. Three times a week, I would be in my element with other little girls as we learned new dances and were taught to twirl and flow with the songs playing over the speakers. Neither one of my parents ever stayed to watch me practice. They didn’t ever come to my recitals either. My gram did, though. Well, my mother’s mom did. She was my only grandparent and knew how horrible I was treated at home. There was nothing she could do to help me. So, she did the next best thing, showed up to any event I was in, and made sure to leave me a trust fund no one else could touch.
Shaking my head, I clear my thoughts as my phone begins to ring on the countertop next to me. Looking down at the screen, the caller ID shows no number or name. An uneasy chill runs through me and fills my gut. Pressing the answer button, I hold the phone to my ear as my entire body stiffens, and I can’t move a muscle.
“H-H-Hello,” I finally manage to stammer out.
“Alejandra, I don’t know what the hell game you’re playing, but you’re digging yourself a hole you will not find a way out of,” my father’s cold, stern voice fills the line. “How exactly did Troy come to find himself in jail awaiting trial? Where are you? You left the hospital early before I could get to you.”
“Where I am isn’t your concern,” I say, my voice wavering as my heart rate spikes and I can’t seem to catch my breath.
Black dots fill my vision as my grip on the edge of the counter becomes an anchor of sorts, so I don’t hit the floor. Looking down, I can barely see how white my fingertips are around the countertop. I’ve never really stood up to my father before because I was terrified of the punishment I’d receive. Now, I know Reaper won’t let him touch me. He’ll protect me and make sure my father doesn’t get anywhere near me.
“It absolutely is my concern. You should be standing by your husband’s side and trying to figure a way to get him out of this mess. I know you’re the reason he’s sitting behind bars, and you will make this right, Alejandra,” he orders me as if I’m one of his mistresses or my mother.
“No, I won’t. I’m done with the abuse, his cheating, and everything else you have both put me through over the years. I see you’ve gotten over being pissed at him. See, I heard you too when I was so beaten I could barely open my eyes. You knew he was trying to sell me off to the highest bidder and weren’t going to do anything to stop it. Instead, you were pissed the deal fell through. What kind of father does that make you? I will not be a pawn in your game any longer. You would do well to lose this number and make sure the son you always wanted doesn’t have charges pressed against you too with the crimes you commit that he knows about,” I taunt my father, knowing it’s the last thing I should be doing, but I’m so angry with him and his demands.
“Alejandra, you will not talk to me like this. I am your father, and you will do as I say. A car will be coming for you, and I suggest you get in it, or I’ll destroy the biker scum you’re shacked up with. It won’t be hard to get him put behind bars while I get Troy out. Then who’s going to save you?”
“You’re not a father. I’d say you’re more of a sperm donor. How is dear old mom? Still a doormat for you? Have you killed her yet with your beatings? You don’t have anything on Reaper, and I have a feeling you never will,” I say, pushing aside the panic filling me as I let years of pent-up anger out. “He’s got more people on his side, and from what I understand, you’re not as powerful as you believe you are. I will not get in any car you send for me. I am not getting Troy out of jail because he’s sitting exactly where he deserves to be, and I will remain where I am. Do. Not. Call me again, or I’ll go to the authorities about you as well.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” he says just before I hang up the phone.
I try to calm down by taking a minute to slowly breathe in and out. Unfortunately, I can’t. There’s only one person who will make my body stop trembling and calm my racing heart. Leaving everything on the counter as it is, I head on shaking legs to the front door of Reaper’s house. Jameson is sitting on the steps as he turns and looks up at me. Immediately he’s on his feet and by my side.
“What happened?” he asks, keeping his voice calm and quiet as he looks me over from head to toe.
“Reaper,” is the only word I can get out as the dam breaks and tears stream down my face and hit the porch below.
“You need me to take you to Reaper?” he questions, again his voice gentle and calm.
Nodding my head, Jameson wraps an arm around my shoulder and leads me from the porch. He helps me into the passenger side of an SUV before racing around to the driver’s side. Jameson doesn’t hesitate to start the engine and head straight for the clubhouse as I sit unseeing in the passenger seat with my body still shaking and sobs wracking my body. I can barely breathe with the force of each sob. When the vehicle stops, I still don’t move. I can’t. It’s as if my body is paralyzed, and no matter what I try to do, I can’t make myself move. Jameson doesn’t let it bother him as he opens my door and helps me from the seat before leading me into the clubhouse.
“Reaper!” I barely hear him call out as soon as we’re through the door. “Reaper!”
Several booted feet sound in the distance but none of them are Reaper as I finally look up at the faces surrounding us. These men are all large, muscled, and ones I’ve briefly seen since Reaper saved me. They all look menacing and filled with hate as I try to cower behind Jameson.
“What the fuck happened to her?” one of the men barks out.
“I don’t know. She was inside, and when she opened the door and stepped out, this is how she was. Is Reaper here, or did he leave?” Jameson asks, his voice merely a rumble as I press into his back.
