by Lilly Atlas
“Shit, Jig,” Zach said when he could talk again. He held his hand in front of his eyes. “Think about your grandma or something. No one wants to see that shit.”
Jig glanced down and, sure enough, there was a sizable tent in his jeans. What could he say? Her unique combination of warrior and woman got him every time.
IZZY FOLLOWED ROCKET through the open barn door and straight to the back where a room-sized storage closet waited. The entire place had a lingering smell of horse shit so Izzy breathed through her mouth until she got used to it.
“Have you seen them yet?” she asked Rocket as they walked.
“No. Could hear them crying, yelling. They sound fucking terrified. Zach and I didn’t want to go in first and scare them. I’ll let you go, and you can assess the situation. When you come out, we’ll all have ski masks on. Don’t want the girls getting a look at us. You want one, too?”
“Um…” She gave it a moment of thought. It probably would be wise to keep her face covered in case these girls gave her description to the cops. On the flip side, they might lose their shit if a masked person barged into their room. She’d take her chances on convincing them to leave her out of it. “Nah, I’m okay.”
“All right,” he said with a nod. “Figured you’d say that. That’s why I asked in here instead of around Jig. He won’t feel the same.”
It didn’t matter. He’d be out of her life soon enough. Sadness washed over her, but she pushed it away. No time for a pity party right now.
“Here we go.” Rocket indicated a door where she could hear sniffling and light crying behind. “It’s unlocked. I’ll be right here. Holler if you need anything.”
Izzy nodded. “I’ll be fine. Be ready with the van for the girls.”
She gripped the doorknob and stepped into a room she couldn’t have imagined in her most fucked-up nightmares. Rotting hay was strewn all over the floor, leftover from the building’s farm days. The smell she’d mistaken for horse maneuver reached foul levels in the room. It became clear the odor was human waste. Three buckets lined the wall to her right with rats and bugs crawling all around them.
Her stomach lurched, and she swallowed down the bile before turning her head to the left.
Huddled in the corner with their arms around each other were six young women, girls really, trembling, crying, and so filthy she couldn’t even tell the color of their skin.
A few had visible wounds, split lips, a black eye, cigarette burns to their arms. Izzy’s heart, which she kept safely boarded up, cracked in two and bled all over the filthy room.
The tallest, and she assumed oldest, took a step forward, all false bravado and pretend toughness. Izzy didn’t even know the girl, but at that moment, she felt so proud of the feisty teen who was trying to protect the rest of the girls.
“Who are you? What do you want?” the girl said, standing at her full height of no more than five feet three inches.
Despite the disgusting floor, Izzy sank down until she was sitting cross-legged. Looming over a bunch of terrified kids wouldn’t help the situation. “My name is Izzy. I’m here with a group of men who want to help you.”
All six of the girls shrank back at the mention of men, and Izzy’s stomach rolled. She couldn’t begin to imagine what these children had been through.
“Help us how?” the lead girl asked.
“Take you away from here. Back to your families if that’s what you want. Somewhere else safe if you don’t want that.” At the mention of family, two of the girls broke down in harsh, choking sobs. Izzy wanted to gather them all up in her arms and promise no one would lay a hand on any of these girls again, but she had no idea how they’d react if she came too close.
“Why should we trust you? Who are these men?” the bravest asked.
What should she say? How did she reassure these traumatized children that no further harm would come to them? Izzy spent her life proclaiming her independence, telling everyone she met she didn’t need anyone else. She was a pillar of strength and a self-sufficient woman. Now, the first time that strength was truly tested by life’s ugliest acts, all she wanted to do was weep and pass the challenge of soothing these girls on to someone else. Someone stronger. Someone more capable.
What she wanted was Jig. Wanted him by her side, holding her hand and bleeding some of his power into her. But it wasn’t going to happen. If she begged him to stand with her, she might plead with him to stay forever. Then someday down the road when it ended, she might not survive the heartache. This responsibility fell to her, and she’d buck up and do it alone. It was how she’d set up her life, so now she had to practice what she preached.
“They’re good men, who would never lay a hand on you. They are enemies of the men who kidnapped you, and they have all those men tied up outside. None of them can hurt you ever again. I can take you all out of here right now. The men with me will all have masks covering their faces”—two of the girls gasped—“just to protect their identity. I will lead you out to a van, and then I will ride in the back with you away from here. To a shelter where there are only women, no men. And those women will get you anything and everything you need to help you be okay.”
The oldest snorted. “Okay?” she asked. “Don’t think any of us will ever be okay again.” She spoke with a surety that had Izzy’s eyes filling. There was no way in hell she’d allow herself to cry in front of these girls. If anyone ever needed her to be strong, it was these girls. “How old are all of you? What are your names?”
The leader stared at Izzy for a moment before saying, “I’m Jenny. I’m seventeen. Youngest is twelve.”
Good thing she was sitting because that would have knocked the starch right out of Izzy’s knees. Instead of tearing the place down board by board like she wanted, she just nodded. “Will you come with me?”
She was studied again while Jenny seemed to consider their options, which were none. If they stayed, they were prime targets for more abuse and horrors. Not that the Handlers would ever leave them there. Plan B was to drag them out kicking and screaming, but Izzy hoped to avoid any further trauma. Jenny was a smart kid and must have come to the same conclusion. She spoke for the group when she said, “We’ll come. I don’t want any of the men to touch any of us. Not at all.”
“I promise,” Izzy said. “No one will touch you.”
“Okay. Then we’ll come.”
Izzy rose and stuck her head out the door where Rocket still waited. “They’re ready. It’s not good. But there’s one girl who seems to be in charge. She’s asked that none of you touch any of them in any way. Not even to help them in the van or anything. Okay?”
Rocket nodded, face solemn. “You have my word.”
“Okay, I’ll lead them out.” She started back into the room then popped her head out again. “Oh, I’m going to ride with them…wherever you’re taking them.”
With a small smile, Rocket said, “You’re a damn good woman, Iz. Jig’s a lucky fucker.”
Ouch. Straight shot to the ticker. She filed it under To Be Dealt With Later and returned to the frightened girls. As she led them out of the barn, Rocket stayed a safe distance away, arms crossed over his chest so the girls had a good view of him. Yet each one stared at the masked biker with wide, fearful eyes as though he might lunge forward and attack at any moment.
Despite the thick cloud cover, all the girls flinched at the brightness the moment they stepped outside. “This way,” Izzy said, pointing to the open van. One of the girls shook her head and stopped walking, her entire small body trembling.
Shit. She’d probably been tossed in the back of a similar van only to emerge in a nightmare of epic proportions. “It’s all right,” Izzy told the quaking girl. She kept her hands fisted so she wouldn’t reach out and wrap her arms around the poor child. She was smaller than the others. Probably the twelve-year-old. “No one will hurt you anymore. I swear it on my life.”
She pointed to where Jig and Zach waited, well off to the side, masks on. “Tho
se men are the good guys, honey. They only want to help and get you far away from what hurt you. They won’t be in the van. One guy will drive, but I will be the only one with you in the back of the van. Just me. Okay?”
Lower lip quivering, the girl finally nodded and followed her new family borne of tragedy into the van. Each girl walked with a stiff posture as though sore. Some hobbled along with a hitch in their step Izzy refused to think about too deeply. Her heart ached with each step they took, and when the last girl was in the van, she turned to Rocket. “Give me a minute?”
“Sure,” he said, assessing her closely. Too closely.
Izzy stepped around the side of the van, out of sight of all the men and leaned her forearms against the cold metal, dropping her head to her chin. A beachball-sized lump lodged in the center of her throat and tears puddled in the corners of her eyes. The sensation of a thick rubber band wrapping around her chest kept her from drawing air, and she sucked in short, shallow breaths.
How could anyone…?
She shook her head. This wasn’t a situation she was equipped to deal with. Not something she knew how to process. This was the greatest depth of human depravity. How did one move on smiling day after day with firsthand knowledge of these acts?
Strong arms closed around her waist, and an immediate feeling of safety surrounded her. After the argument in the car, Jig was the last person she expected to attempt to support her. She wanted to sink into his embrace and let him erase the past hour of her life.
But it would only draw her closer to being dependent on him and thus make the eventual crash and burn that much more devastating.
Straightening, Izzy sniffed, wiped any errant moisture from her eyes and stepped out of his embrace. The moment she was free of him, she felt the weight of loneliness collapsing down on her.
Proof of why she had to do this. Now, she could control the situation. Choose to be alone and on her own. Later? If he left, after she dared let herself love him, she’d never survive that fall. “Hey,” she said, squaring her shoulders and turning to face him.
Eyes grim, scar prominent, mouth flat, hair mussed from the mask that he’d removed, he looked about as wrecked as she felt. “You did a good thing for those girls, sweetheart. You were right, they never would have come with us.”
Not the “sweethearts.” It was hard enough to stay strong without the endearment.
She nodded. “Thanks. I’m, uh, going to ride to the shelter with Rocket.” Sticking her hands in her back pockets, she tried to act like her insides weren’t crumbling to dust.
“I heard. Want me to tag along?” He stepped closer, and she took one back. If he touched her again, she might crack and lose herself in his arms.
“Nah, I promised them none of you would come along. We’ll be good.”
One of his eyes twitched, and she had the distinct impression he was biting off what he really wanted to say. “Okay. I’ll wait for you at the clubhouse.”
She could do this. Just had to spit it out. “Look, Jig…”
He sighed and dropped his head as though he’d been expecting it.
“Don’t do it, Izzy,” he said, stepping forward and sliding his palms up her arms until he cupped the balls of her shoulders. “I’m sorry for my reaction in the truck earlier. I was a real asshole. Please don’t let it ruin this.”
“This?” she asked once again, stepping away. Every time he put his hands on her, her body reacted, wanting more. She’d never have the guts to get the words out if he kept touching her. “Come on, Jig. Neither of us is cut out for this. We agreed on that from the start. Better to end it now, make a clean break. No messiness.”
No chance for you to crush my heart. Except with every word that fell from her lying mouth, she carved a little chunk out of her own heart.
“Iz, you’re upset about today. Rightfully so. Anyone would be. Let me help you through this.”
Her arms hung limply at her sides, feeling like thousand-pound weights. Suddenly, exhaustion claimed her. “You don’t get it, Jig. I don’t need you to help me through this or anything else. I take care of myself. Always have, always will.” For the first time in her life, those words left a sour taste in her mouth. Despite all her protests, she’d come to rely on him at her side.
“Don’t push me away because you’re upset.” He stepped toward her again, but this time she held a hand up to ward him off. “Sweetheart…” he started.
“No,” she whispered because that beach ball in her throat wouldn’t allow anything louder. Shit, she was going to cry. Ugly cry. “Please,” she said as the first tear fell. She pressed one hand against her stomach, checking to make sure her insides weren’t truly pouring out. “Please just let me get in that van and go.”
Jig didn’t respond for a long moment, then he lifted his hands in surrender. “Okay, sweetheart. But this isn’t over. Get through today, and we’ll talk.”
She nodded. It was the fastest way to get him to walk away and leave her with some of her dignity still intact.
As she watched him go, tears streaming down her face, Izzy knew it was already too late. She’d broken her most strict, firmest rule.
She’d fallen in love with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
SIX HOURS LATER, Jig sat alone at the bar in the clubhouse, well into a bottle of Scotch. Hadn’t done a damn thing to numb the gnawing pain in his gut.
Rocket strode through the door alone, and Jig’s shoulders sagged. Izzy hadn’t even come to talk to him. That pretty much put the last nail in his coffin, didn’t it? “She okay?” he asked as Rocket wandered up and swiped the bottle.
After a long drink, Rocket wiped his mouth with the back of his fist and said. “No. She’s pretty damn fucked up right now. Not sure what went down between you two behind the van, but she’s been puffy-eyed and silent all afternoon. This business with the girls has her spiraling, too.”
“Can you blame her?”
“No.” He took another drink. “Didn’t say I did. Just giving you the facts. You gonna go see her?”
Jig considered that. Would he go see her? “Not today. She wouldn’t want anyone to see her freak out. Especially not me. I asked Shell to swing by later. Check on her.”
Rocket nodded and stared into the empty clubhouse. He wasn’t one to offer unsolicited advice. Jig appreciated that. He didn’t need one of his brothers telling him how to handle the woman he loved.
That’s right.
Fucking loved.
As he’d brooded and drank for the past few hours, he realized the sick feeling he’d had since walking away from Izzy was love. The feisty, independent, fierce, gorgeous woman had blown past all his defenses, and he was in love with her.
He’d bucked against the notion for so many years, convinced he couldn’t take the risk of losing someone in such a vicious and unexpected manner again. Convinced no woman deserved a man with a violent history, who freely admitted that violence was still a living, breathing thing inside him. And he found loving Izzy was just as terrifying as he’d anticipated, but for entirely different reasons. Izzy wasn’t the type of woman to stand behind him. She’d march that firm ass right around and stand by his side no matter what battles came their way. And as an MMA fighter, on some level, she even understood his need for violence.
And she accepted his past, his dangerous present, and even his uncertain future.
Taking the bottle from a pensive Rocket, he said, “You know, we’re at the bar. Get your own fucking liquor.”
Rocket grunted, but did just that, coming back with an unopened bottle of tequila.
“What happened with the girls?”
With a sigh, Rocket sat back down and opened the bottle. “Well, they’ll probably all be screwed up for life thanks to Lefty, but they got off okay. Seems they all took to the woman who runs the shelter. She’ll do right by them.”
“Guess that’s the best we can ask for right now.” Jig let the burn of the Scotch chase away some of the shit swirling around in
his head. Or at least tried to. Didn’t work too well.
“You guys torch the place?” Rocket asked. They sat side by side, drinking and watching the empty clubhouse.
“Mm-hmm,” Jig responded, mouth full of Scotch. After swallowing, he said, “Used the C4 to blow it the fuck up. Word is Lefty caught wind of it and went into hiding.”
“Fucking pussy.”
“Pretty much. You expect anything else?”
Rocket grunted.
“Hey, Jig,” Zach said as he walked into the clubhouse. “Oh, hey, Rock. When’d you get back?”
“About five minutes ago.”
Zach held his hand out for the tequila, which Rocket readily handed over. The skin around Zach’s knuckles was purple, cracked, and bloodied. Evidence of what he’d been up to for the past few hours.
“Jig, Cop wants you in The Box for a minute. Feel free to tag along, Rocket.” He took a drink then turned and strode back out.
With a raised eyebrow, Rocket looked to Jig. “What’s that about?”
Jig shrugged. “Don’t know. They have the guys from the barn in there. Let’s go.”
Leaving their bottles on the bar, they made their way outside and into the woods where the entrance to the box was. It was a trap door deal they kept covered with leaves and twigs most of the time. Needless to say, they didn’t want anyone stumbling upon it.
Zach held the door open as Jig and Rocket descended the long staircase, then he followed behind.
Though they’d taken the five men from the barn, only one remained. And he looked like he’d seen better days. Information extraction and a little punishment hadn’t treated him well.
“Where are the others?” Rocket asked.
Copper folded his arms across his massive chest. “Let the boy go after we scared the piss outta him. Literally. Pretty sure he’ll be steering clear of the gang from now on. Especially since we told him we’d be keeping an eye on his mom and sister.”
All bullshit. Copper would never hurt an innocent woman, but the dumb kid wouldn’t know that.
