AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’ll do anything you say, anything, just please don’t leave me.” She’s not looking at the ground no more, her eyes are praying to mine, begging, with the same look that had me causing all this in the first place. “I… I feel safe with you,” she adds the final ball buster and makes it damn near impossible to say no.
“You don’t know who I am.” I back away from her when I realize what this feeling I can’t shake off actually is. It’s been a long fuckin’ while since I felt it, but this is, without any doubt, fucking fear. This tiny broken creature in front of me, begging for my help, scares me.
“I don’t.” She shakes her head back at me. “But I know that I feel safer than I've ever felt when…” She searches for words, and when they don’t come to her, she steps forward, closer to me. My chest compresses as she nears, and her tiny hand reaches out and takes mine. I don’t shy away from it, just stare at it like it’s scolding me.
“Please.” She hits me with those eyes again, eyes that speak straight to my fucking soul and have me going against all my better instincts.
I look at the bruise that’s starting to form on her cheek and remember the sound of her screams on the other side of the door I’d kicked my way through, to get to her. I’d squeezed all the air from that worthless piece of shit’s body, and she looks as scared now as she did then. I can’t fucking stand that look on her. The girl's been through hell and if, for some fucked up reason, it's me she needs to feel better, then so be it.
I swallow the clog of nerves in my throat and nod my head back at her. I’ll deal with the club in the morning. Right now, my priority is to get this girl, whoever the fuck she is, cleaned up and rested. Everything else we can figure out tomorrow.
My bike is still parked up in the yard from where I rode it down earlier, but I swerve it and move her toward one of the cages instead. The girl lets go of my hand when I open the passenger door for her, then smiles at me again as she climbs inside. It seems like reward enough for all the shit I’ve caused here tonight.
I move around the hood to the driver’s side, pulling out my phone to message my brother.
“Change of plan. She comes with me. Tell the others I’ll sort this out with them tomorrow.”
When I get in beside her, she slides across the bench seat to be closer to me. Her arms wrap around mine, and she clings to me like a baby koala bear. How the hell am I gonna get through the night? She’s still shaking, and I can’t allow myself to imagine what she’s endured to make her this way.
If I do, it makes me want to cause pain.
We arrive at my cabin a few minutes later, and when I show her inside, she looks around it nervously. The place is a hovel. It ain’t a home. It’s a place I use to sleep in between doing jobs and getting wasted at the clubhouse. She looks so out of place standing here in my living room, in my private space, among all my things. Her eyes widen at the Glock that's been left out on the coffee table, and I quickly snatch it up and storm into my bedroom with it, placing it up on top of the wardrobe before searching through my drawers to find something to cover her body up better.
“Bathroom’s just through here,” I instruct, after taking a T-shirt and the smallest pair of sweats I own and walking back into the open-plan space.
I try not to look at her as I open the bathroom door and place the clothes on the towel rack. Then when I step back out, she cautiously moves forward, but instead of passing me, she hovers in front of me. Her shaky hand reaches out to gently touch the gash on my side.
Her touch is delicate, like the stroke of a feather, and I’m sick for thinking that my blood is her fucking color when she holds her blood-stained fingers up between us and stares at them. The way she looks fearful, like it’s the blood of her own wound, damn near destroys me.
“I’ve had worse,” I tell her, my voice coming out croaky again. “Have a shower. I’ll clean it up.”
“I can shower?” her eyebrows lift in surprise.
“Sure,” I nod. It’s sad that such a small gesture can provoke such a reaction from her.
Her expression turns blank, and she drops to her knees to kneel in front of me. At first, I think she’s gonna kiss my feet, but it gets far worse. She starts to unbuckle my belt.
“What the fuck?” I force her hands away in shock, and it makes her cower back from me like a kicked puppy. Her hands automatically lift to guard her face.
“Sorry, sir, you said… I thought,” she quivers. Whatever fucked up shit this is, I’m struggling to keep my rage in check.
I breathe, counting to ten in my head. That’s what Squealer always reminds me to do when I'm about to lose my shit. Reaching down to her, I take her shoulders in my hands and drag her back onto her feet.
“You never do that again, you hear me?” I scold her, and she stares at the finger I'm pointing at her face through fresh tears. I’m scaring her because I don’t know how to handle her, and I feel like a fucking cunt for it.
That all-new instinct she provokes in me, the one that has me wanting to make her feel better, takes over, and I quickly tug her into my chest and hold her tight against me.
“I’m sorry,” she sobs, her tears falling onto my skin, slipping onto my chest and chilling my spine. I’ve never held anything as precious as her in my arms before, and I don’t know how to give comfort, but this feels like what she needs.
“I just thought…” she snuffles against my chest.
“All that, whatever it was, is done,” I growl, my heart starting to beat normally again.
It feels so strange to be talking to someone other than Squealer, but the girl is my responsibility for as long as she’s here. She needs me, and it’s surprising how effortlessly my words come out for her.
“There are no masters here,” I tell her again, needing to put some distance between us before I burst into fucking flames.
Pulling away, I back off, heading out onto the deck for some air.
