by Breck, A. R.
“Wow.” She looks at them with wide eyes, like it’s the best gift she’s ever received. “Can I put them on?”
“Sure. Let me help you.” I squat down and get her dressed quickly, discarding Aziel’s shirt on the bed. I don’t see a hamper anywhere. This will have to do.
Walking back to the bag, I pull out a black tank top with the Harley logo on it, a pair of jean shorts, a bra, and underwear. Plain and simple, but now I’m curious who the hell picked these up for me. No way in hell could I picture Aziel walking his huge, tattooed self into a lingerie store to buy me a bra. How the hell does he even know my sizes?
I slip them on and admire how well they fit. My long blonde hair lays in a mass wave around me. I’ve been getting all dolled up, putting makeup on, dressing like I’m going on a date every day for the past five years. Finally, I’m makeup free, my blue eyes shining with relief, my hair natural and free, and my body… comfortable. These clothes aren’t modest by any means. The shorts are a bit short, and the top is a little skimpy, but nothing like what I was used to in Mexico. I’m comfortable, and for the first time in a while, I feel like I’m dressed for my age.
And it’s all thanks to Aziel.
For a moment, I wonder what would have happened if Aziel wouldn’t have taken me. Would I have ever made it out of the compound? Out of Mexico? Would Santiago have found me and punished me even more, this time for something I didn’t do? It wouldn’t be the first time.
My stomach growls again, and Lilah giggles. “Your tummy making funny noises. It’s going grrrrrrrrrr.” She even brings her hands up and makes claws like she’s a grizzly bear or something.
“It sure is. Let’s go find something for Mommy to eat.” I grab onto her hand and pull her down the stairs. The guys are gone from the bar area. The only people at the bar now is an older woman standing behind the bar, restocking the liquor bottles from the looks of it. Another girl, much younger, is sitting on one of the stools. She looks to be younger than me, by at least a few years. She’s scrolling through her phone, her dark hair pulled up into a messy bun on top of her head. She doesn’t look like she’s trying to impress anyone in her leggings and oversized t-shirt. She seems down to earth, and I immediately know that I’ll like her.
They both turn towards me as I get closer. The younger one smiles at me, but the older one doesn’t. She looks a little guarded, not rude, but not open towards me in the slightest.
“Hi. Aziel told me to come and get some food.”
“Of course, he did.” The older one says. Then she notices Lilah and a smile breaks out on her face. “Hi, little one, how were those pancakes?”
“Yummy!” Lilah climbs up on a stool with little trouble.
“Don’t listen to her. She’s an old hag. Come sit down. My name is Violet. And you’re Ivy.”
I blink at her. “I am. How do you know?”
“Aziel had me run into town and get you guys some clothes this morning.”
So Aziel wasn’t the one stomping through the underwear department. Thankfully. “Thank you, for them. I didn’t have anything to wear.”
“So, I was told. I’m glad they fit. You look good in them.”
“Thanks.” I smile at her as I get up on the stool next to Lilah.
“Make her something, Haley. The girl looks like she’s starving.”
Haley lifts her eyebrows at Violet, and they have some sort of silent conversation. Then she scoffs, turns around, and starts putting something together.
“You don’t have to make anything, you know. I can slap something together if you tell me where everything is.”
“Don’t be silly. So, tell me your story. Where are you from?” Violet says, turning towards me and placing her elbow on the bar and settling her cheek against her fist. Her smile is bright, and her straight, white teeth are almost blinding. Her question also throws me off guard. Is she wondering where I’m from originally, or where I was just rescued from?
“Um, I’m from Ohio. Originally. Haven’t been there in a while.”
Violet gets a sad look on her face. “I’m sorry. Were you one of those trafficked girls that they’ve been saving? They’ve helped so many.”
They have? I had no idea. Could they be such bad people after all if they’re saving them? Saving us?
“I—uh, I’m…”
“Violet, quit grilling the girl.” A stack of pancakes and sausage get set in front of me a little harder than necessary. “Anyway, Aziel will be questioning her enough. She doesn’t need you prying with your skinny little ass of yours.”
“Shut up, Haley. I’m just tryin’ to get to know her.”
“Well, she’s not comfortable. Can’t you read people?” Haley puts her hands on her hips and levels Violet a look.
Violet looks at me and winces. “I’m sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I shake my head and smile, even though her questions were making me nauseous. I don’t like talking about home—Ohio—and I don’t like talking about Mexico, either. Both are touchy subjects to me, and talking about them with someone I barely know is like pulling my toenails off with a pliers.
Excruciating.
“I’m okay. So, what’s your story? How old are you?” I ask Violet, taking a bite of the pancake and moaning as it melts in my mouth. The maple syrup tastes homemade.
“I’m sixteen.”
I nod at her. “Do your parents live here?”
The mood grows silent. A little dark. It feels like the light fades from the room a little bit. “No. I’m here by myself. My parents are junkies probably begging on the streets of Los Angeles.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.” Suddenly having lost my appetite, I push my plate away. “I didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.” Way to ruin your only chance at a friend here, Ivy.
“Rude not to eat food that someone makes for you girl. Better eat up.” Haley nods towards the plate. I pull it towards me again and force my way through another bite.
“It’s really not that big of a deal.” Violet says, waving away the tension. “I was found on the street by Lynx, abandoned and dirty. He brought me here instead of a shelter. Said kids end up in the system their entire lives once they go into foster care. He moved me into his house, and this old hag over here kind of ended being an aunt I never wanted.” She points at Haley, and Haley gives her a deep scowl.
Lynx?
“Old hag? You just earned yourself a night of being the designated dishwasher.”
“What? No fucking way.”
I eat another bite, watching the exchange with wide eyes until the familiar heavy boots start echoing through the empty bar area.
“Ivy.”
I turn my head, seeing Aziel staring at me with his arms crossed over his chest. His biceps flex and twitch through his plain white tee. I nearly drool at the sight. The art crafted on his arms is detailed and angry. A masterpiece of harsh lines that swirl and mix through the next piece. No color, no life is painted on his arms, but the perfection made into each stroke created a life of its own.
“Ivy.” My name is barked, this time angry. I look up from his flexed arm, seeing him staring at me differently than he has before. His eyes are cold, empty. Full of anger and hate. I’m suddenly anxious and uneasy to be in his presence. I’ve been around men that have looked like that in the past, and the situation has never ended up being a good one.
“Yes?”
“Come with me. The club wants to talk to you about a few things. Violet, Haley, you good to watch Lilah for a bit?” A few things, meaning Santiago.
Panic seizes me. “Oh, no.” I turn to Lilah, whose been sitting nicely in the stool the entire time. “Come with me, honey.”
“You know what? I think the last thing you’ll want is for that little girl to be around during the conversation. We don’t mind she stay with us for a bit. Maybe we can make some cookies? I might be able to find some ingredients in here somewhere.”
“Yeah, cookies!” Lilah breaks out in a toothy grin.
Although, honestly, I don’t trust anyone with Lilah.
“I—” I begin.
“Ivy, she’ll be fine. Come on, the guys don’t enjoy waiting. For anyone.” Aziel says.
Something grabs my chest and squeeze tight as I hop off my stool and bring Lilah into my arms. “Mommy will be back soon, okay? You be a good girl.”
“Love you, Mommy.” She puckers her tiny lips at me.
Bending down, a press a kiss to the top of her head. “Love you, too.”
“Ivy. Let’s go.” Aziel sounds impatient now, so with one last fleeting look I leave her behind as I walk towards him. The air changes the closer I walk towards him, the warm, dry California air turning into an eerie chill by the time I’m within touching distance. He doesn’t take a moment to spare me a glance, only grabbing onto my wrist and pulling me across the room. We end up in a narrow hallway that leads to a closed door. Aziel doesn’t knock, just walks right up to it and opens the door. Six men sit inside. Six grizzly, menacing looking men that are rough and edgy and not someone I would want to mess with. Ever. I mean, there’s Santiago’s men, who I would never—in a million years—mess with. These guys put Santiago’s men to shame
When the door closes behind me, it’s with an air of finality. Aziel sits down in a chair and I receive seven sets of cold eyes staring at me accusingly.
Well, this will be interesting.
11
Aziel
I leave Ivy and Lilah in the yard as I head off for church. We haven’t had a meeting since we got back from Tijuana. It’s been chaotic. Between dealing with the new girl and getting in a fight with Cassius, I feel like my mind hasn’t stopped spinning.
The girl isn’t helping.
It’s like she webbed her way between the chaotic fibers of my brain and took hold. I haven’t been able to think straight since the moment I first saw her and it’s turning me sideways.
Pulling another cigarette out of my pocket, I light it and walk straight into church. Everyone’s already waiting for me, which seems to be the theme lately. I nod at everyone but can barely spare a glance at Cassius. I’m not even pissed at the guy, but I’m a stubborn fuck and hate being the first one to squash the shit.
Whatever.
I grab the ashtray in front of my dad and sit in my chair.
“Let’s get on with it.” Pascal adjusts his cut and sits up straight. “We took seventy-four girls from Tijuana. That’s our highest number yet, and I’m thinking that could be the highest. If that was his biggest operation and we took it down, well, he’s going to be hurting. We need to stay on top of this and figure out where he’s going next. We need to find out where he’s planning to hold his next recruits.”
“But we didn’t get Santiago.” My pops slams his fist against the table, making my ash fall into my lap. I mutter a curse as I brush my jeans off. “We saved the girls, but this hit was supposed to be the one to get that fucker. How did he know we were coming? He wasn’t even fucking there!” His fist slams onto the table again, and I stub the rest of my cigarette out in irritation.
“Someone slipped him the info. We got a rat?” West narrows his eyes as he looks at each of us. I almost reach across the table and punch him in the face. The possibility that it is any of us fucking fools sitting around this table is laughable. It’s more probable that my mother is coming back from the dead. Fat fucking chance. I also want to say it’s the same probability that one of us leaked any info, but that one isn’t as laughable. I know the men in this room like the back of my hand. I know the members of this club well, and none of them would even think of being a rat. If they were, they wouldn’t fucking be here.
“We need to talk to that girl.” Cassius says, and I instantly grow on edge. My nails dig into the meat of my palms and I dig them in further. My skin cracks as my voice grinds out, “You’re not doing anything.”
He scoffs. “Would someone tell bitch boy to get off the rag? Jesus, man, you’ve been on one since she got here. What’s your problem?”
I stand up and lean across the table. “My table is you, brother. You’re not doing a damn thing with or around Ivy.”
“Ivy.” He sneers. “The little bitch has got a name.”
I lay one into his eye before his sentence is even finished. My fist hits his already tender and bruised skin. He grunts but doesn’t move an inch.
“Cut it the fuck out, guys. I mean it.” My dad lashes out next to me, ripping me away from the table. I straighten up and adjust my cut. Staring down at Cassius, I say to my dad, “Tell him to back the fuck up, then. He’s been tryin’ to rile me up since last night.”
“He hasn’t.” Niles says from across the table. I look at him with narrowed eyes. “He hasn’t. Not at all. Your fucking agitated, Z. Figure your shit out.”
“Sit down, all of you.” My dad barks this time, his mallet slamming onto the table. “I’m done with all of your bitch fits. Figure it out on your own time.” I sit down quietly, feeling chastised. Pops turns towards me. “Aziel, I don’t know anything about this girl, but you do know we have to question her, right?”
“I know, I know.” I adjust my hat on my head and sigh. I just wish I could do it alone, and not with all these fuckers breathing over my shoulder.
“What’s the real deal with her? Something’s different about her.” West says from beside me.
I shrug. “I mean, you were kind of there with me. You guys were getting the girls out from that cellar and I was looking for Santiago when I stumbled upon her. She was crawling on the ground outside in the middle of an explosion. I don’t know, I haven’t been able to really question her. All I know is, she’s got a three-year-old girl with her that she says is hers, and she looks like a kid herself.”
“The kid is part Mexican, brother. You ever think she’s with them?” Pascal questions.
I shake my head, even though the thoughts have already ran through my own mind. “Can’t be. She seemed relieved when she left. Not only that, but her face is all bruised. Like someone was hurting her.”
“She could’ve been bruised from the blast, son.” My dad says, like I should know better.
I shake my head, viciously denying something that I don’t know is true. I feel it in my gut though, there’s no way she’s an accomplice of Santiago’s. My instincts told me to rescue her. “No. She was scared. She was a victim there, just like those other girls.”
“Then why wasn’t she in the cellar with them?” Cassius says, and I want to rip his esophagus out with my hand, but all he does is lift an eyebrow at me. He’s not trying to be malicious; he’s only questioning.
I would do the same.
“I don’t know.” I shake my head.
“Why wasn’t she wearing the same clothes?” Jex asks.
“I don’t know.” My head starts spinning.
“You don’t know a lot of things, son. Santiago is a lot more complex and calculated than you’re letting yourself believe. If she’s an accomplice of him, it might be as simple as you’re getting played. Don’t let your guard down around her.” My dad says seriously to me.
My head stops shaking as dread seeps into me. Have I been getting played?
“I haven’t let my guard down.” I say seriously. I look every single person sitting around the table in the eyes to let them know I’m serious. I’m not that fucking stupid, and for them to even think I might be is insulting.
“We need to question her.” Jex says.
“I know.” My stomach turns.
“Right now. We need to question her right now.” Pascal stands up.
“Wait, what’re you doing?” I stand to block his exit. He narrows his eyes at me. He’s bigger than me, older than me, and taller than me. He doesn’t scare me though. No one does
, except maybe my father. That’s a downfall for me. I’ll get killed some day for not having a fearful bone in my body.
“Going to get her?” He phrases it like a question. And like I’m dense as hell.
“Wait.” I lift my hands, and everyone looks at me in irritation. “Let me go and grab her. She’s skittish. And doesn’t know you.”
“But she knows you?” Pascal laughs at me. “After what, ten hours? You fuck her already?” The guys chuckle around the table, and I can feel my blood turn hot. Irritation spikes through my veins to the point I feel feverish.
The air in the room is choking, but the blood thumping through my body is anything but.
“No, you fuckers. I’m not fucking her. I’m about ready to lay a fist into you, too, Pas, if you keep talking about her like she’s a fucking Jessie.”
The guys quiet down but look like they want to laugh.
“I’ll go get her.” I leave the room without another word. Standing at the other side of the door, I can hear my name being mumbled. Fuckers. They’re pissing me off. Putting me on edge lately.
Or maybe I’m on edge because there’s a blonde haired, blue eyed girl that belongs on the beach but looks like she’s been trapped in a cage. For years. Her skin might glow from the rays of the sun, but the light deep within her has been burnt out. And for the life of me, I don’t understand why I want to figure out how to turn on that light again.
* * *
I can instantly tell I’ve made a mistake when I shut the door, leaving Ivy trapped in a room with the guys. She looks like she’s moments from a panic attack. The guys look like they want to rip her apart. I sit in the chair next to my father and stare at her. If I coddle her and act like her guard dog, I’ll get torn apart. Every single guy in here will tear me to shreds, and then Ivy will be left to the wolves.
