The Nomad Series-Collectors Edition

by Janine Infante Bosco

  As much as I wanted to argue, I didn’t have it in me. The truth was I didn’t know if therapy would help but the thought of opening my chamber of secrets scared me more than anything. Isn’t that funny? I survived a life of torment, lived through the darkest of nightmares and reliving them scares me more than living through them did.

  I didn’t understand how urging me to acknowledge the destruction I came from would help me lay the foundation of a new life. Everyone thinks talking about traumatic experiences and confessing what plagues you will somehow heal you. How was a complete stranger supposed to fix me?

  Once inside the hospital, I reluctantly follow Lacey to the therapist’s office. She checks me in with the receptionist as I take a seat in the waiting room. Seconds later she turns to me and tells me either her or her father will be waiting for me in an hour when my session is over.

  I watch her leave and glance around the empty room noticing the rich leather chairs and fancy paintings that line the walls. It makes me wonder who is flipping the bill for this and what it will cost me in return. Everything has a price. Something I learned far younger than most.

  While most kids my age were working at saving their money for a car, I was standing in line; naked and praying my body would be enough to keep me alive. Survival wasn’t free, it came at the price of my own shame.

  My body involuntary shudders at the memory and panic begins to set in. If one memory can entice so much anxiety how will I feel when the therapist probes me with questions, forcing the horrible truth to spill from my mouth. Things aren’t real until they’re spoken aloud and once you say it, well, you can’t take it back. Those words won’t be my dirty little secret. They will be the words that define me.

  Too weak to relive what I’ve tried so hard to forget my lungs constrict and I gasp for air. In a flash, I’m on my feet running toward the door. I don’t think twice, I just run.

  I run like I should have ran the day I was abducted.

  Fast.

  Furious.

  Terrified.

  Desperate.

  I run until I slam into a hard wall of muscle. My first instinct is to scream, to do all the things I didn’t do all those years ago. The things I never had a chance to do because I was too young, too naïve and too fucking slow.

  “Get off me!”

  “Whoa, Ally. It’s me, it’s Stryker.”

  Another piece of me crumbles at the familiarity of both his voice and his tenderness. I used to believe in that voice, in that tender tone. I used to think Stryker was different, that he cared. At one point, I even hoped he’d see past the filth and notice I was more than just a body. There were nights when I dreamed he’d be the guy who made it all go away, and not because he was holding a needle, but because he had the ability to see what no one else could.

  Me.

  I prayed he’d see me.

  “Let go, please,” I plead hoarsely.

  Hesitantly he stares at me for a moment before he releases his hold on me and takes a step back.

  “Are you okay?”

  The concern in his eyes is too much. It strips me down to nothing, exposing the pieces of me only he knows.

  “I’m fine,” I reply as I move to walk around him but his moves are sharper than mine and he blocks me.

  “Can we talk?”

  A humorless laugh escapes my lips as I lift my eyes to his.

  “Please don’t pretend to care now,” I sneer.

  “Ally, come on—”

  “Come on what? Are we really going to stand here pretending you gave a damn about me? That you were any different than any of the guys back in Albany?”

  Anger filters through his dark eyes, eyes that were always so cold and empty. Eyes that used to make me wonder if he was as broken as I was.

  “I guess I deserve that,” he grits.

  “They’re your words,” I retort.

  “I didn’t know, Ally. I had no fucking idea what kind of torture you were the victim of. All I knew was what Rush told us. For fuck’s sake, he told us your father owed the club money.”

  My nostrils flare at the mention of my father and I lose it. The idea of my father ever being compared to the monster who took me and who made me call him Papa for years robs the little bit of self-control I have left and I unleash my fury.

  “That man wasn’t my father! It’s a lie Rush told everyone so you wouldn’t know the truth. He couldn’t tell you that he bought me off a man who raped and kept me a prisoner for years.”

  The weight of my words slams into both of us and a gasp escapes me while shock spreads across Stryker’s face and he stumbles back. Unwilling to see the remorse in his eyes, or worse the pity, I close my eyes.

  It’s true.

  Once the words are said you can’t take them back.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” he rasps. “Why did you let everyone treat you that way?”

  I open my eyes just in time to see him remove his baseball cap and run his hands over his bald head.

  “Why did you let me do that to you?” he whispers.

  Shame.

  Once you feel it, you can never escape it and when you don’t have drugs to numb you, you feel everything tenfold.

  You wear the humiliation like a brand.

  “What good would that have done? I had already given up on myself by then,” I confess.

  “If you had of told me the truth, I would’ve got you out of there. I would have saved you, Ally.”

  “Always looking to be someone’s hero,” I say sadly as I stare at him.

  Silence stretches long and wide between us and I’m thankful when he opens his mouth to break it, the words get lost on his tongue. I don’t think I can handle any more truth and I sure as hell can’t handle any more pity.

  “I’m sorry,” he says finally.

  “It’s not your fault,” I murmur as Stryker’s attention drifts over my shoulder.

  “Jack,” he mutters as I turn around.

  “What’re you doing here?” Jack questions, gripping Skylar’s hand. Narrowing his eyes toward Stryker, he pauses before pinning me with a stare. Unable to bare the weight of his skeptical eyes, I look at Reina who is standing beside him, pushing her son in the stroller.

  “I was just leaving,” Stryker says. “I’ll catch you later,” he adds quickly before giving me another glance.

  One last tender glance.

  A glance filled with sorrow.

  -Nineteen-

  DEUCE

  After I hung up with Jack, I took a walk to calm myself down, figuring it was best if I didn’t storm into Cobra’s room with steam blowing out my ears. Ten minutes and a Snickers bar later, I’m back where I started, standing in front of Cobra’s room. The only difference now is I shut my phone off.

  Fuck you, Jack Parrish.

  Take that!

  Ignoring my aching ribs, I knock on the door lightly before opening it. The room is quiet except for the machines. Celeste is standing beside the bed holding Cobra’s hand.

  “Blondie,” I greet, noticing the exhaustion in her pretty features as she drops his hand and assesses me.

  It’s not the first time she’s seen me since Skylar was rescued, but then I wasn’t a thought in her head. Too stressed about her daughter, frantic over her man, Celeste hadn’t noticed I got the shit kicked out of me.

  “Don’t look at me like that, I’m fine,” I insist, glancing over her shoulder at the man who laid it all on the line for his family. “How’s he doing?”

  “Thank you,” she blurts, ignoring my question. Diverting my eyes back to her, I watch her swallow. “Thank you for making sure she was safe,” she whispers, kicking me in the gut with her words. Keeping Skylar safe would’ve meant she was never taken to begin with—something I failed at doing.

  “I don’t deserve your gratitude, darlin’. If it wasn’t for me, she wouldn’t have been kidnapped in the first place,” I tell her regretfully.

  Feeling uncomfortable, I reach around to cup t
he back of my neck and cringe as pain ripples over my rib cage. Biting back a curse, I force myself to meet her worried gaze.

  “You want to thank someone, thank Jack for getting us out of there or thank Cobra’s sister,” I mutter as the thoughts of Ally invade my mind. Angry I can’t tune them out or forget that her hair smells like coconuts, I snap. “Bitch is crazy as all hell, but she took care of Skylar.”

  The words taste as foul as they sound and I try to ignore that revelation too. Not that it does me any good because then I start to recall her broken voice as she soothed Skylar in the midst of all the havoc.

  “Did she know who she was?” Celeste asks, drawing me away from the coconut scented mess that has me twisting in knots.

  “No,” I reply, shaking my head. “She didn’t know until Blackie didn’t pull the trigger on her. Rush had me tied up in a room that had a shit ton of articles and pictures of her, otherwise I wouldn’t have known either,” I say, tilting my head to the side as I wonder what it would have been like if I hadn’t uncovered the truth. Blackie would’ve killed Ally, and that truth hits me hard. Harder than it should.

  “It’s fucked up, Blondie,” I continue, gathering my bearings. “I don’t even think she realizes she’s been rescued. It’s been hell over at Jack’s, but the motherfucker won’t let me leave either. He’s afraid I’m going to pop a stitch or something,” I grunt.

  The idiot doesn’t even realize I didn’t get stitches. Shaking my head, I refocus my attention back to Celeste, watching as she gnaws on her lower lip. Poor girl. She too has had her whole world flipped upside down in a matter of days. I can imagine she’s torn between Cobra, her daughter and now Ally too. Trying to ease her conscience, I sigh and tell her what she needs to hear.

  “Anyway, she’s better off there than with you. Even if Cobra wasn’t in the hospital, I don’t think she should be around Skylar. Jack and Reina are watching her now. She’s better during the day than she is at night. The girl wakes up every night screaming, she’s all strung out looking for drugs, and in her sick mind she thinks we’re holding her captive,” I say, giving her a synopsis of what it’s been like from the beginning. I should probably tell her Ally’s on the mend; that she’s trying to get herself straightened out, but it’s too fresh, too raw. If she relapses Celeste will blame herself. So will Cobra, they’ll think because they weren’t there to take care of her themselves it’s their fault.

  I’ve been there, done that and that guilt will fucking destroy a person.

  “Crazy, fucking crazy,” I add for extra emphasis.

  “I can’t imagine what she’s been through. Actually, that’s not true, I think both me and Cobra have an idea. When no one found her we thought the worst. Every nightmare we imagined was probably her reality,” she says.

  Pausing, she shakes her head in disbelief.

  “That could’ve been Skylar,” she cries.

  “But it’s not,” I remind her. Quickly, I lay my hand on her shoulder, offering her some sort of comfort. “And it’s not Ally’s life anymore either. That don’t mean she will forget and everything will go back to normal. It’s going to take her a long time to heal and transition into life again. A life she owns herself.”

  A life where she’s the one holding the lit match.

  “Ally,” Celeste repeats. “Is that what she wants to be called now?”

  “Fuck if I know. I try not to talk to her too much. Girl’s cost me all sorts of trouble,” I hiss.

  I’m not lying. Between ratting me out to that fuck Rush to fighting with my conscience, Ally’s been causing me a shit ton of trouble and something tells me she’s not done turning my life upside down. Hell, I’m afraid to believe she’s only just begun to sink her claws into my soul.

  “She’s been asking to see Cobra, so that’s a good sign,” I add as she turns around and looks at Cobra. Sniffling, she runs her fingers through her hair and slips away into her own thoughts. Wondering what I can do to help, I glance over at my brother like he’ll miraculously wake and give me the answers.

  He doesn’t.

  Shocker.

  “Why don’t I go get you something to eat? You look like you’re fading away,” I offer, for lack of anything else.

  “I’m fine,” she replies, sounding as if she’s been switched to autopilot.

  “Who you lying to, Blondie? You ain’t fine. You’re as fucked as the rest of us and fit right in with all our chaos. Now, you got a little baby growing inside you that needs you well, so I’m going to go grab you a sandwich and you will eat it.”

  “You know about the baby?”

  “Told me right before we picked up Skylar that day. He swore me to secrecy, but fuck, Blondie, as long as I’ve known him I’ve never seen him happier.”

  Glancing back and forth between the two of them, I recall Cobra’s proud smile as he told me they were expecting. He was so fucking happy to get a chance to witness all the things he missed with Skylar and then all this shit happened.

  Life isn’t fucking fair, it’s downright nasty. They deserve better than all this, they deserve some fucking peace. A little bit of happiness. But life lacks a return and exchange policy. You’re locked into whatever you get and forced to make it work.

  “I’ll be back. I’ll get you some peanut M&M’s too,” I say finally, offering her a wink, knowing it’s something Cobra would’ve made sure to do. Taking another quick glance at my brother, I send up a silent prayer he continues to fight his way back to his girl before turning and stepping out of the room.

  As I turn down the end of the hallway, I lift my head and my feet become rooted to the linoleum as I spot Jack, Reina, their baby, Ally and Skylar in front of the elevator. I watch as Reina fusses over her son and Jack lifts Skylar into his arms. He brushes her blonde locks from her face and smiles at her, making it clear to all he wears the title of a family man as well as he wears leather. Turning toward Ally, Jack mutters something and she crosses her arms defiantly before lifting her head. Staring over Jack’s shoulder, her eyes lock with mine.

  Regretfully, I watch hope replace the anger in her eyes and for a fleeting second I see disappointment flicker as well. It’s unnerving and suddenly I feel guilty, but for what I have no fucking clue. Knowing the longer I stare at her, the more twisted my head gets, I fit a scowl to my face and turn around.

  Fuck the elevator.

  I’m taking the goddamn stairs.

  ALLY

  Wishing this day was over, I step off the elevator. Jack goes first and instructs us to keep Skylar occupied while he tells Celeste we’re here. Knowing I’m not a good distraction for anyone and that I’m still reeling from my run-in with Stryker, I fight to tame my pain, to alleviate my anxiety and prepare myself for what comes next. Wondering how I’m supposed to act around Celeste, I also fret over seeing my brother again. I push back my fear of watching him die and think of Deuce’s words. He’s right, not too many people get a second chance. If Jagger doesn’t make it through this, I’ll live the rest of my life regretting I didn’t make an effort to know the man he became.

  I wish I was stronger and that the need to be numb wasn’t stronger than me. I wish I didn’t want to escape, that I didn’t want to claw my arms and beg someone to help me disappear. I wish I was never taken at fourteen because then I wouldn’t know what it’s like to be invisible.

  As I turn to take a seat, I spot Deuce at the other end of the hallway. Our eyes lock and an unfamiliar calmness coats my nerves.

  In that moment, I’m not invisible. He doesn’t see through me, he just sees me. The good, the bad, the ugly—he sees it all. The pity is gone from his eyes, so is the empathy. It’s all been replaced by something I can’t quite place. Something dark and uninviting. Something cold. It’s not me who is invisible anymore, it’s him.

  With a scowl planted firmly on his face, he turns around, walking away as if he never saw me. I stare after him for a minute, expecting him to come back, but he doesn’t and for some reason that bothers me. It ir
ritates me. It makes me regret opening up to him and letting him inside my head, inside the darkness.

  Mindlessly, I tear my eyes away from the empty hallway and watch Skylar talk to Reina’s baby. Needing a distraction of my own, I drag my nails down the length of my arms and welcome the pain.

  Suddenly, Skylar runs down the hallway and I divert my eyes to Celeste.

  “Mama!” Skylar calls as Celeste bends down and catches her in her arms. I watch in amazement as she swoops her daughter up and spins her around enticing the most innocent giggle from her.

  “Mama’s right here, baby, and guess what? Daddy’s awake. I know he misses you a whole lot and it would make him feel so much better if he saw you,” she says, brushing the blonde mess of curls from her face. She continues to tell Skylar that Jagger is in a lot of pain and warns her to be careful.

  Positioning her little girl on her hip, Celeste turns and holds out her free hand. Hesitantly, I stare back at her, unsure what to do. When we were kids, she would offer me her hand and I would take it without question, knowing an adventure always awaited us.

  “Let’s go,” she whispers.

  I want an adventure.

  I want it as bad as I want normalcy.

  Slipping my hand into hers, I stand and let her lead me to Jagger’s room. Once we reach the door, I drop her hand and take a step back. Doubt seeps into my veins as I draw a blank. For years I thought about what I might say to Jagger if we ever had this moment, and now I can’t think of anything.

  “You should probably go in there before me,” I say quietly before turning to her. “I mean, I don't know if this is a good idea.”

  “I won't push you, but I know he would really want to see you. He hasn't been the same since…”

  “I was taken,” I say, finishing her sentence just the way I did when we were kids. She doesn’t reply at first and the silence between us is not only awkward but sad as well.

  “I'll go first,” she whispers before disappearing through the door, leaving it slightly cracked open behind her. Pulling my sleeves past my wrists, I toy with the ends as I nervously pace outside the room.