by Bella Jewel
“She gave me one. We’re best friends, old man. Remember?”
“You two shut the fuck up. Give me the key, boy,” Dad barks.
“Keep your shirt on, boss,” Danny grunts. “She’ll be here.”
I gasp and drop my head to my knees and just wait. I don’t have the energy to run, even if I want to. The door opens, the lights flick on, and then I hear it—a sound I never wanted to hear escape my father’s lips. That pained, broken, ragged sound a man gets when he sees his daughter, his baby girl on the floor, sobbing, broken.
He doesn’t need to see my eyes to know I’m gone.
He just knows.
“Shit,” Spike says, his voice low.
“Ava?” Danny whispers.
A warm hand hits my cheek, soft and gentle. I turn my face into it, because I need him. I need my dad. I need him to make it go away. I need this pain to leave my chest. I want him to tell me it’s all just a dream, and that everything will be okay.
“Baby, look at me.”
I lift my head, and my eyes hit his. I don’t miss it—the moment he sees my face. His eyes scan mine, and they turn to ice. I’ve only ever seen that look in my dad’s eyes a few times over the years. His big hand slides up and runs over my puffy cheek.
“Who. Did. This? Who hurt you?”
I’ve never heard his voice like that. For a second I don’t recognize it, and I shrink into myself. Spike kneels down in front of me now, too. His brown eyes scour my face, moving over my body, looking for an answer. Danny just stands there, staring at me, looking like someone has just killed his best friend.
“I . . .” I try to speak, but my voice is pathetic and weak.
“Ava, who the fuck did this?”
“Jacks,” Spike says, calmly. “Don’t yell. Look at her—really fuckin’ look. Something has gone down; she’s been missing nearly two days. You need to breathe.”
Dad stops and his face softens. “Baby,” he says, pained, hurt. “What happened?”
“I . . . I didn’t . . . I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I . . . I was just going to my car after work,” I choke out. “I didn’t . . . I didn’t see him . . .”
Dad’s face hardens, and he cups my cheek so gently, even though he looks as though he is going to explode at any second. “Him?” he rasps out.
“Jacks, stand up, walk outside, take a breath. Let me talk to her.”
“My girl is hurt,” Dad barks. “I’m not leaving her. Someone took her and fucking hurt her.”
“Jacks,” Spike growls. “Now.”
They stare at each other, poison in their eyes, but Dad stands and he storms outside. I hear something slam. Something breaks.
Danny hasn’t moved.
“Tell me what you saw, princess?” Spike says, curling his hand around the back of my neck, gently, kindly. I’ve seen him do this to Ciara and to Mercy. Comfort.
“I didn’t see anything at the time,” I whisper. “I was just walking and then . . .”
“Then what, precious?”
“Then I woke somewhere dark. I don’t know who had me—he never told me his name. There was another girl. I don’t know who. They were saying things about Dad and . . . God . . .”
“Did they . . .?” Rape. Did they rape me? That’s what he wants to ask. The question they all fear.
“No,” I croak.
“Do you have any idea who it was?”
Dad will find out who it was, because soon the man he was working with is going to get the call that his daughter is dead. I can’t lie about that, but what I can do is lie about what it did to me. I can lie and tell them that I had no choice, when I did. I could have done more. I could have put myself forward. I let her get killed. I made the choice.
“It was a m-m-m-man that said he wanted to get back at Dad and another man . . .”
“You didn’t see him?”
“No.”
Lie.
“Hear any names?”
“No.”
Lie.
“Where did this happen?”
“I was taken from work but . . . I don’t know where they took me.”
“And they just let you go?”
“Spike,” I sob, my voice broken. “No.”
He goes quiet. “Baby girl, tell me what happened.”
I start crying so hard I can’t breathe. I don’t want to say the words. I don’t want them to know what it’s doing to me. This is what that man wanted. This is what he knew would hurt my dad. He knew it would break him. He knew seeing me sink would be his undoing.
“Share with me,” Spike says softly.
“The man said Dad was working with the other man,” I sob. “He said he needed to send a message. He took his daughter, too.”
“And what happened?”
I tremble.
“Dad, stop. She’s breaking. Get Jacks.”
Spike stands, nodding. The minute he’s gone, Danny drops down to his knees in front of me, scooping me into his arms. I clutch his shirt, pressing my face into his chest.
“You’re going to be okay. I’m here. I’ve got you covered.”
I cry harder.
“Give me my daughter.”
Dad. I lift my head and see him walking towards Danny and I, his eyes softer now. He’s trying desperately to stop the pain from showing in his face. Danny moves aside and Dad comes in, leaning down and scooping me into his arms. He carries me over to the couch and places me down, holding me to his chest, letting me breathe him in.
“I need you to tell me what happened, baby girl. I need that so I can protect you.”
“I don’t know who he was. He just said he took us to send a message because you were working with someone against him. I . . . he . . . Daddy, he killed her and then let me go.”
Silence.
“Baby,” Dad rasps. “My baby. I’m so sorry.”
“I . . . I . . .”
I can’t tell him what it did to me. I can’t tell him it was on me.
“I didn’t see it,” I lie. “I just know he did it, then he sent me back and said I was the message.”
“Motherfucker,” Spike barks.
“Easy Spike,” Dad says. “Not now. Danny, call Addison and Serenity. Now.”
“Daddy,” I croak into his chest.
“Got you, darlin’. it’s going to be okay, you hear me?”
“I’m sorry,” I rasp.
“Never be sorry. Never be fuckin’ sorry, baby.”
He holds me close for a long, long time. It’s only when the front door opens, and I hear my mother’s pained cry and my sister’s sharp gasp that I know we’re no longer alone. Dad lets me go, and I’m instantly in my mom’s arms, and she’s crying and hanging onto me tightly.
“Dad,” Addi whispers. “What happened?”
“She’s okay,” Dad says. “Just shaken up.”
“What happened?” Addi asks again.
“Nothin’ for you to worry about.”
“Dad . . .”
“Addison, I said no.” His voice allows no more argument.
“Baby,” Mom whispers. “Are you okay?”
This is what he wanted; he wanted them to see me like this, broken. I take a deep breath and lift my head, wiping away my tears. “I was just scared, but I’m going to be okay.”
Mom gives me a weak smile and sits beside us, pulling me into her arms. I force a hug back.
I’m fairly sure we both know that’s a damned lie.
~*~*~*~
Two days later
The knock sounds at my door late in the afternoon. I’ve barely moved from the sofa since the night I came home. Dad and Mom have come past three times a day, but I’ve put on my brave face and pushed them out because right now I can’t seem to cope with anything or anyone. But the longer I lie on the old couch, the harder I fight to get out of this dark hole I’m drowning in.
The knock goes off again and again.
Dad has people coming past
the house every few hours and he installed an expensive alarm system, making me promise to turn it on at all times and if I go out, to let him know where I’m going so he’ll know if I’m not back on time.
I push to my feet and walk slowly towards the door. I reach out for the handle and pull it open, stopping dead when I see Detective Lucas standing at my door, arms crossed, leaning against the large wooden pole that makes up my small balcony.
The moment he sees me, he straightens.
I stare.
The night it all happened, I didn’t truly take in the man who was so kind to me. I missed how utterly beautiful he is. He isn’t beautiful in the cover model kind of way, but instead in the dangerous, deadly kind of way. His brown eyes hold an edge I didn’t notice and his hair, which I assumed was just messy, seems more unruly and wild today. He has a three-day growth on his jaw. Has he slept since I came in, or like me, have the thoughts of that night run rampant in his head?
“Ava,” he says, his voice huskier than I remember.
I don’t recall much about that night, except for feeling utterly ripped to pieces. Still, seeing him standing here, I can’t help but think he’s not the same person who encouraged me to keep breathing, to keep fighting. This man seems dangerous, a little scary and completely broken.
He’s the kind of broken that runs deep. I can tell that just by looking into his eyes. Did he just have a mask on for me that night? Was he being kind because I was so damaged? Now the mask is down, I can see the hardness that lies deep within his heart, and the pain that shields itself behind his eyes. I think it’s highly possible that Lucas is the most broken person I’ve ever met in my life. And I don’t even know him.
“W-w-w-what are you doing here?”
“I wanted to check in, talk to you, let you know what’s happenin’.”
I study him again. He’s tall, really tall, and he has tattoos peeking out from his rolled up white button-up. Is his whole body like that? Does he have a picture of a woman or a baby or maybe a brother or sister etched into his skin that would explain the damage written all over his face?
“I . . . okay,” I say quietly. “Come in.”
I push the door open, and he goes to step inside when a booming voice stops him.
“What the fuck are you doin’ here?”
Lucas stiffens and turns slowly. Dad, Cade and Muff are all walking up the front steps followed by the prospect who was watching my house earlier. I didn’t hear them arrive because they came in Muff’s truck. No warning. Probably a sneaky drive by or maybe they got a call and were in the area. Dad stops in front of Lucas and his big arms cross over his chest, angrily, like he knows him.
Does he know him?
“Jacks, it’s been a long time,” Lucas says, his voice hard and unlike any voice I’ve heard him use.
“What the fuck are you doin’ on my little girl’s front porch, Shadow?”
Lucas turns and glances at me, shock in the brown depths of his eyes. Who the hell is Shadow?
“I’m—” Lucas begins, but I cut him off.
“He’s a cop. He found me on the street after I was kidnapped,” I say, my voice so pathetic I barely recognize it.
Dad looks to me, his blue eyes icy—I know he’s wondering what I’ve told Lucas. Then they flicker back to Lucas. “You helped her?”
“I found her. She told me what happened, and I made sure she was okay,” Lucas says, his voice tight.
“And what exactly did she tell you?”
I flinch.
Lucas narrows his eyes. “I’m sure she told you what happened, Jackson. It’s not my place to share. Why, do you have information on who took her? Seems pretty suspicious. I wonder if you know why something like this would happen.”
Something flickers in Dad’s eyes, and I know he knows that I haven’t told Lucas, because if I did, Lucas wouldn’t be questioning Dad to see if he had something to do with it.
“No fuckin’ idea who took her. I just know whoever it is will fucking pay when I figure it out.”
“You and me both,” Lucas mutters. “And believe me, I’ll figure it out. I always fuckin’ do.”
The two glare at each other, a deep, scary challenge. “I don’t know what you think you know, Detective, but I can assure you, it’s all wrong. My club had nothing to do with this. You’re just clutchin’ at straws because you’ve been wantin’ to get something on me for years, and we both know why.”
Lucas leans forward. “What I know, Jackson, is that your fucking boys know more than they’re saying, and I won’t rest until I find out what happened to her. You can play your high-and-mighty bullshit to the rest of the world, but I know what you are, and I know what you’re capable of.”
Why do I get the feeling the her he’s referring to isn’t me? In fact, it seems these two know each other, and whatever story pulled them together isn’t pretty.
Dad steps forward, his fists clenched, but Cade wraps a hand around his arm, jerking him back. “Not now, Prez. Not now.”
“Dad?” I whisper.
He turns to me, his eyes softening. “I’m sorry, baby. How’re you feeling?”
I shrug lightly. “If you don’t mind, I want to hear what Lucas has to say to me.”
“You want me to stay?”
I shake my head.
“Fine, but I’m waitin’ out here.”
“Dad . . .”
His eyes flash. “I’m waitin’, kid.”
I sigh and glance at Lucas. “We can talk inside.”
He nods and glares at Dad, whose jaw tics, before stepping inside my house. I close the door softly behind him and when it’s locked, Lucas turns to me. “I didn’t know your dad was a biker.”
“Do you want a drink or something?” I say, trying to avoid his statement.
“No, thanks.”
I nod and gesture to the table, where we both sit.
“Just so you know, kid, your dad bein’ who he is changes this whole investigation.”
“He had nothing to do with it!” I snap.
The last thing I need is a detective sniffing around the club. It never ends well. My dad might be a good man, but he still belongs to a motorcycle club, and that means he does things he shouldn’t.
“You got taken and beaten—seemed like someone was trying to send a message. It makes sense.”
“He didn’t do anything, Lucas,” I whisper.
He narrows his eyes, but doesn’t push. “How you feelin’?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you lie to everyone who tries to help you?” His voice is calm, unwavering.
Intense.
I flinch. “I’m not lying; I’m coping.”
“Something happened in there—something that has your eyes looking so fuckin’ haunted it hurts me to even look at you. You can tell me or you can’t, but either way I’m going to find out, Ava.”
“I didn’t ask for your help, Detective,” I say, my voice scratchy. “You just happened to find me, and I told you what I knew.”
“It’s my job to find out, and I will.”
I say nothing. I just stare at him.
He’s so dangerous and dark, like a shadow.
Shadow.
“My dad called you Shadow.”
His eyes flash to me—pain, raw, unadulterated pain. God, now that hurts to look at. “Yeah.”
“Is that your nickname?”
“It was.”
“And now?”
“Now I’m just Lucas.”
I think he’s wrong.
I think he’s much more than that.
I say nothing.
“I came by to tell you what we’ve discovered. We’ve gotten the DNA results back from the scrapings under your nails, but we’re still waiting on the results of the blood. We traced some details we uncovered but unfortunately we have only come to a dead man. It would seem that dead man matched some of the DNA on your skin, so we can assume whoever had you is now dead. We are still looking for information on th
e other person there with you.”
It wouldn’t have been the man that took me that they found dead. He was too smart. He set this up so that anything that could lead back to him was erased. The dead man they found must have been the man he had do all his dirty work, and I have no doubt he organized for him to be killed soon after they dumped me. Such a clever, clever man.
“So he’s dead,” I croak, playing along.
“Seems like it, but we’re still investigating further.” His eyes flicker to the front door, and I know he’s thinking of my dad.
“He wasn’t part of this,” I whisper again.
“It’s my job to worry about that,” he says, turning back to me. “It’s your job to get better.”
I nod.
He holds my eyes.
We both know that isn’t happening.
CHAPTER 8
LUCAS – THEN
Rain pours down, heavy and chilling, as I watch the tiny coffin being lowered into the ground. I’ve cried, I’ve screamed, I’ve shut down—now I’m just numb. Jennifer is clutching my arm, sobbing hysterically. I want to comfort her, want to hold her, but my arms are stuck hanging limp by my side as I watch my baby girl, my light, my air, being lowered into the ground.
Agonizing pain rips up my throat, and I want to roar. I want to scream. I want to make it all go away. It shouldn’t have been her; she wasn’t meant to go before me. She wasn’t meant to suffer. I am her father, and I let her down. I didn’t hear her wake. I knew she loved the pool, and I didn’t take extra precautions to stop her dragging that damned chair over and opening the fence.
I let her down.
My mother starts crying uncontrollably as she lays down a rose. It floats to the bottom of the giant, dark hole, and her crying gets harder. Jennifer’s nails claw at my arm, and I want to flick her off. I just want it all to stop. I can’t go on like this. I can’t live without Shylie. I can’t possibly move on with my life.
A pained moan leaves my throat. I can’t stop it, no matter how hard I try. A silent tear tumbles down my cheek.
I’m so sorry, my angel.
Daddy is so sorry.
~*~*~*~
One month later
“You can’t keep ignoring me!” Jennifer screams, her hands curling into fists as she pounds at my chest over and over.
