CHAPTER ONE
Taffy paused at the end of her living room and glanced up toward the entry.
Lefty and Gia stood by the door, whispering to one another. The six-foot plus biker had his large hand wrapped around Gia's waist. He stood at an angle.
The couple made her sick. She rolled her eyes at the protective position. Like she needs protection from me. Imaginary slivers of glass cut her from the inside out. She has everything and I have lingering nightmares along with a face not even a mother could love. Jealousy reared its ugly head. Gia's done well for herself in so many ways. It’s not her fault this happened to me. We both knew the risks and took them. The rational side of her brain understood, but her heart. That traitorous organ had become twisted, black and irrevocably damaged.
Being used was nothing new. From the day she hit sixteen, when her virginity was auctioned to the highest bidder, her body had become nothing more than a tool to keep her fed and clothed. She could deal with that. It’d been another thing entirely to be abused and beaten down so low mentally and physically, she never got a chance to catch her breath. Life after she'd been caught trying to escape had been hell on earth. Every day she woke, expecting to find herself trapped in a ring of fire. Feeling like a voyeur, she cleared her throat.
Lefty looked up at her and scowled.
I don’t like you much either. Mentally Taffy smirked.
Gia’s face clouded over with a troubled look.
Her joy at her previous best friend’s discomfort broke open the scabs she wore on the inside. She knew something was wrong with her, but she didn’t know how to fix it. The best thing to do for everyone was to stay away. “I think we’re all done here,” she stated. The smallest piece of her that had survived screamed out in protest. Don’t leave me alone. Please help me. Taffy drowned out the sorrowful pleas by wrapping herself in the blankets of bitterness, anger and indifference. I need to do this on my own. Gia has already done more than she should have. I will not be a burden.
“Are you sure you have everything you need?” Gia asked. Her eyes searched Taffy's face.
Taffy wondered what exactly she hoped to find. “This is more than I’ve had in a long time.”
Gia glanced down.
The gesture made Taffy feel like an asshole. Every word from her mouth was a sharp razor blade that slashed Gia, the only person who gave a damn about her. The sooner they leave, the better.
“If you’re sure.” Gia held her gaze.
Taffy remained silent.
“Okay. If you need anything, you have my cell. Chase is the super, so to speak. She’ll be checking in with you sometime today and giving you the run down. Mostly, my girls live here, but there are some bikers. They’re all Dueling Devils, or guests. They won’t come at you crazy.”
“Any man who thinks he won’t get caught, will come at a woman, any way she’ll let him.”
Gia’s face fell like a cake in an oven. “Not everyone is like that—”
“Enough of them are,” Taffy snapped.
“I want you to feel safe, Taffy. I would never leave you somewhere you might be in danger.”
Good luck with that. “No one can make me feel safe, Gia. That’s long stripped from me. “
They stared at each other in a stalemate. Gia wanted her to be someone who’d died the night she escaped the island in order to survive. Taffy had buried all the softness. Taffy glanced away first, conceding victory for the staring match.
“I’ll be back later this week and we’ll see about getting you a job?”
“Yes, please,” Taffy said. Being beholden to anyone made her feel antsy.
“Alright. We’ll leave you in peace then.”
The uncertainty in Gia’s voice did funny things to her stomach. She hadn’t felt anything more than contempt, fear and numbness for so long. It was like submerging a frostbitten limb into hot water. She shrank away from the foreign sensation that burned her.
Lefty guided Gia out of the apartment with a hand on the small of her back.
Seeing the tattooed giant be so gentle perplexed her. How can a dangerous outlaw be so soft at the same time?
The door closed behind them with a click.
Taffy locked the door and silence echoed in the dwelling. She rested her head against the cool metal as relief flooded through her body. This was her peace, solitude, silence and only her company. She pushed away from the door and went to explore her place. The one-bedroom was more than adequate for her needs. It came fully furnished with a soft, dark grey couch that felt like suede, an accent chair with grey and yellow flowers and a 34-inch TV that rested against the wall.
To the left, a dining area held a circular walnut-stained wooden table for two and a tiny but efficient kitchen with new appliances. The walls were a warm off-white, and an inch long beige carpet was clean and soft looking. She toed off her sneakers, beside the couch and walked the floor. The soft strands of carpet gave under her feet. A short walk down the hallway led to a small bathroom with a mid-sized tub, shower and sink. The light yellow walls reminded her of sunshine and the white fabric in front of the clear shower curtain gave it a homey feel.
She closed her eyes, pulled back the rusty door on her supply of hope and let herself dream. This is a new start. Long lost optimism rose inside her like a bird with a freshly healed wing while flexing the still bruised appendage. Please let this work for me. It's my last chance. If she couldn’t get it together and they sent her packing, she had nothing and nowhere to go. None of that matters. Above all, I’m a survivor. I will do what I have to as long as it keeps a roof over my head and enough space to finally live.
Better for her mental pep talk, she straightened and continued down the small hall to her bedroom. The room was petite, yet held everything she needed. A queen-sized bed with a flowery comforter and a white sham rested in the center of the room. The ordinariness stole her breath. Everything she wanted sat in front of her, delivered on a silver platter. A small white desk sat against the far wall and matched the small dresser. Soon, her closet would be full of clothes of her choosing. She ran her hands over the smooth wood of the dresser, dreaming of the day she could count herself as independent.
A deep breath brought fresh air into her lungs. There was no cloying incense, perfume, or cologne. No walls opened up to reveal a playroom. She could still smell the sce
nt of leather and feel the sting of the flogger on her flesh. She didn’t mind pain when it was meant for pleasure. The torture intent to break her, killed most of her soul and a vast majority of that had been mental.
In those moments where she wanted to lay down and die, she focused on thoughts of Larissa happy and at peace to stay sane. At first, the escape had been positive. The thought that her friend had escaped and was living a life free without fear had been a circle of light in the darkness. Until—it wasn’t. When the hope dried up and shriveled like rotting fruit, the happiness went sour and turned into acidic bitterness. Guilt streaked through her. She’s the one who put me in up here.
A knock sounded at the door.
She jumped. Tension made her shoulders tight. Her muscles gave a twinge of pain. She walked to the door and peered out the peephole.
A slender woman stood there. She had shoulder-length dark blonde hair that framed a tan oval-shaped face with cheekbones sharp enough to cut glass and sky blue eyes hardened by experience.