Apollo (Cerberus MC)

There’s only so much that can penetrate a broken heart, and mine was cracked into pieces, shattered beyond recognition before I ever left California.

“Are you sure about this, young lady?” the old man asks as he pulls up outside of a community of houses that look like they belong in a magazine. The only thing out of place really is the huge shop-looking building and the rows of SUVs and motorcycles.

“Is this the Cerberus clubhouse?”

“It is,” he answers. “I’ve lived in Farmington for more than forty years. I remember when this area of town was nothing but red dirt.”

“Are they bad people?”

He looks over at me, his wrinkled, weathered face somehow comforting—what I imagine a good grandfather would look like, but hell, what do I know.

“They’re good men,” he says with a certainty that makes me want to believe him.

My sister lives here. After being sex-trafficked from where she was living in Seattle and taken to El Salvador, South America, this is where she landed. She has said as much—they’re good people, April. You’ll like them.

I want to believe her, but a group of unrelated people who live in one localized area… sounds a lot like a cult to me. I don’t know Cara well. She took off from Knight Salvation years and years ago, escaping before she was forced to walk down the aisle and become Charles’s latest wife, and despite keeping in pretty regular contact with each other over the years, you can’t really get to know someone through hasty text messages and letters.

This could be another trap, another way to draw me in, but then I think about Apollo and Legend, the two men she sent to California several months ago to get me out of that place. It couldn’t have come soon enough. It was D-day, my wedding day and eighteenth birthday. The men were not only nice to look at, but they were also respectful and kind. Their eyes didn’t linger. They didn’t look at me and lick their lips. They didn’t make suggestive comments or encourage me to perform lewd acts on them. They were gentlemen. The type of guys you only read about or see in romantic comedies. Apollo especially. He interacted with me with kid gloves, treated me like I was valuable, worthy of the world.

He, not Cara, is the reason I’m here today.

“Thank you so very much for the ride,” I tell the elderly gentleman.

“Good luck to you, young lady. I’d help with the bags but…” He points down to the hinged brace encircling his left knee.

“You’ve been a blessing. Thank you again.”

I climb out of the cab and grab the two bags my grandparents allowed me to pack before they told me to get out of their house and never come back.

You’re an embarrassment to this family. You should be ashamed.

I swallow my pain, shoving it deep inside where all the other hurtful experiences tend to collect, and walk toward the front door. I chance the clubhouse rather than one of the houses because over numerous phone calls, Cara pinpointed this building as the place she calls home.

I don’t think about this choice or other life choices. I don’t let the knowledge that if things were different, I’d be getting ready to go to college, another offering that came with strings from my grandparents, another thing for them to brag to their friends about.

Knocking on the heavy wooden door makes my knuckles ache, but I resist the urge to rub at them. Admitting to pain shows weakness, and if you’re holy, meant for strolling down the streets of Heaven, pain is only an illusion.

A woman with a welcoming smile opens the door.

“Hello,” she says, standing to the side so I can enter without question. “Can I help you?”

“I’m—” I look around the vast room, the wide open common area. Several sofas are arranged in a way that makes me feel like this place is more of a home than the little southern mansion I was thrown out of yesterday. There’s a wet bar on the far side, along with an air hockey and pool table, as well as dart boards.

“Dear?”

I look back over at the woman, noticing that my presence has garnered the attention of several other people.

“I’m looking for… Cara?” I say, seeing my sister just over the woman’s shoulder.

“April!” she squeals as if she’s genuinely happy to see me.

It’s the first time in as long as I can remember that I haven’t felt like a burden.

She runs to me, arms around my body before I can step away and guard my secret.

“I thought you were going to Cabo with some friends before coming here. I wasn’t expecting you for another—” Her eyes drop to my stomach, and I want to drop to my knees and beg her to keep her mouth shut.