by Ashley Lane
“My usual,” I grit through clenched teeth. Little fucker knows I always get the same thing, yet every time he plays dumb. It’s always his first tactic at getting under my skin, and I’m not proud to say it works damn near every time.
“No boyfriend today?” He smirks.
Motherfucker. His ability to hit me where it hurts never fails. The man is a fucking master manipulator and thrives at playing on all of my weaknesses.
“Nope.” Fucker knows they’re all at the courthouse for Tobias and Falcon’s adoption. He also knows I’m probably hurt as fuck that I wasn’t invited, and he’s right. It’s a knife I haven’t been able to pull from my chest since it was lodged there two days ago.
The way Priest hinted at Maddox—Angel—to extend the invitation was not missed by anyone in the room. Including Maddox. What they didn’t know was that for weeks he’s been pulling away from me. We’ve been dancing this dance for years and like clockwork, when Maddox catches himself getting too close, he throws on the brakes.
I knew it was coming. He’s been long overdue for a withdrawal into his broken, lonely shell. No matter how many times it happens, I can see it coming from a mile away, and it still shreds my soul to pieces every time.
The very heart that beats only for him, has also died by him a thousand times, only to be resurrected by the same hands. And the dance starts again. A never-ending encore I’m forced to endure as though I’m the unwanted co-star in his fractured fairytale.
“Excuse me, do you know who I talk to about applying for a job?” The question directed at Malcolm comes from the soft voice next to me. I glance to my right, curious at the newcomer. I can’t see the woman’s face due to the black hoodie that she has pulled over her head.
I roll my eyes when Malcolm turns, a prince charming grin already in place. But his grin is quickly replaced with a look of disgust. “I guess that depends which position you were looking to fill,” his words drip with undisguised revulsion.
The woman shifts uncomfortably before clearing her throat. “I um—I saw a sign out front that said you were looking for dancers, but I’ll take whatever I can get.” she admits quietly, causing Malcolm to snort.
“Listen Quasimodo, I think you’re in the wrong place. This ain’t no Burlesque Club. Our dancers don’t wear masks…” he trails off, making a show of eyeing her up and down. “And the only way a man’s dick would get hard for you is if he was blind or desperate.”
Her intake of breath is swift and quiet, but it flays my chest open with the power of a thousand knives. I’m off my stool before I can comprehend what’s happening.
My hands fist in Malcolm’s shirt and I easily haul the waste of space across the bar. “That’s enough,” my words are gritted through clenched teeth and even though I know I have murder dancing in my eyes, he doesn’t back down. Looks like he’s stupider than I thought.
“What’s the matter, lap dog? You don’t want to hurt the stray’s feelings?” he sneers.
“Fuck you,” I seethe as I shove him away from me and into the counter opposite the bar. He barely hides his wince as his back meets the unforgiving wood, and I get a thrill knowing I caused him even a small amount of pain. Choosing to ignore the scum, I turn to address the girl, but the seat she once occupied is empty.
My eyes dart around the darkened club, searching for her black hoodie, but she’s nowhere to be seen.
“She’s gone,” Shelly, a sweet single mother and one of our dancers tells me. “Ran out the back exit by the bathrooms.” She nods her head in the direction the girl went.
I squeeze her arm as I run past. “Thanks, Shell.”
Pushing my way through the tables and lingering bodies by the stage, I reach the back hall where the bathrooms are located and I zero in on the exit. The door slams against the building as I exit, bouncing off the wall from the force of my push.
My arm instinctively lifts to cover my eyes as they struggle to adjust from the dark of the club to the harsh midday sun. My head swivels left and right as I search for the woman, but the alley is empty.
“Fuck!” She couldn’t have gone far. The woman’s a complete stranger, a drifter for all I know, but the need to make sure she’s alright after the hate Malcolm spewed at her eats away at me.
All my life I’ve been a fixer. It’s part of the reason I’m tethered to Maddox. From the moment I met him, I saw the broken man he hides within. A man scarred by demons of his past, a man who refuses to set them free. No one wants to open themselves up and reveal the darkness that resides within. To be flayed open and have every buried secret escape into the light of day would be torture. But it’s more than that with Maddox. His demons feed off him. His love, his happiness, and the light I catch in his eyes in those brief, fleeting moments when we’re together. They take and take until he has nothing left to give, and then they take some more.
For years I’ve tried to pry open the steel cage he keeps them in, to free him from the hold they have on his soul.
He never lets me.
Even knowing the pain they cause, Maddox chooses to keep them locked inside. He says it’s too much—too hard to face them and the scars they’ve left behind. Indelible, poison ink beneath his flesh that he believes he deserves.
That’s a lie.
I know the real reason Maddox keeps them inside, and it’s a fact that destroys what little of my heart I have left. Maddox refuses to free his demons because without them, he’s worried he won’t know who he is. And I wish more than anything he trusted me enough to help him find out.
I’m pulled from my torment when a quiet whimper and the scuffle of shoes on the pavement comes from behind the dumpster.
My heart hammers in my chest as I approach, hoping—no, praying it’s the girl from inside. I slow my steps and advance, much like I would with a scared dog.
“Miss? I’m not going to hurt you,” I start. “My name is Jax Mendez, my boyfriend Maddox and his friends own the club. I just want to check on you and see if you’re okay.” My movements are slow and methodical as I round the rusting dumpster.
A wave of relief followed quickly by anguish hits me when I see her. Cowered, knees to her chest, her knuckles holding her legs so tightly they’re white from lack of blood flow, her body literally trembles with the force of her whimpers.
“Ma’am, are you hurt?” She won’t look at me, her face tucked into her knees and with the black hood still firmly in place it’s impossible to see. “Do you need me to call an ambulance?”
As if shocked with a live wire, the woman jumps and lifts her head, finally revealing her face and all that was hidden underneath her hood. “No!” she screams, holding her hands up as if they could fend off the suggestion.
“I—I—I mean… no, thank you. I don’t need an ambulance. I’m not hurt,” she rambles, but I’m distracted by the scattered scars that cover half her face. I’m not an expert on scars and what causes them, so I can only assume that the marks covering the right side of the woman’s face are from some type of burn.
The pattern of raised, vivid pink flesh appears slightly rough and mottled, almost as though it was melted into a pattern of branches of varying thicknesses. While a large portion of the left side of her face is scarred, there’s also a portion of it that is untouched and free from the shiny appearance of what are obviously long healed scars. The untouched area must have been protected by something—clothing maybe. Or was she able to shield herself?
A lock of raven hair falls into her eyes and she absently lifts her right hand to brush the fallen strands away. The perfect line up only lasts a second, but as her hand reaches across, mottled scars matching the ones on her face are splattered along the back of her hand and trail up each finger. Suddenly it makes sense why she has such a bizarre pattern covering her face. Whatever happened, she tried to protect herself from it with her hand, and paid the price there as well. Jesus fucking Christ.
My mind is telling me I’m overreacting. There are hundreds of scenarios, natural occ
urrences, freak accidents—anything could have caused those brutal scars. But my gut is screaming at me that it’s more than that. The tremble of her voice and fear in her eyes can’t be denied. Someone did this to her. My guess is it was also deliberate.
Years of practice with Maddox has me easily schooling the rage that’s bubbling beneath the surface. Any indication of anger is likely to have her running. It’s an instinct that becomes ingrained in people and animals after suffering abuse at the hands of another.
I know what you’re thinking, oh so you’re a psychologist now, Dr. Jax? To answer your question, fuck no.
I’ve got my own issues that any doc would have a field day with, but I’ve also done hundreds of hours of research on abuse and PTSD. Add that to my personal life experiences with my mom, and I’m a goddamn wealth of knowledge.
Moving as slow as humanly possible, I settle myself on my ass, arms propped over my knees so they’re in her view at all times. She eyes me warily, but she doesn’t move to run and I mark that as a plus.
“Can I do anything to help you?” my voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. I’m not sure she can even hear it over the sounds of the town just outside the alley. I’m about to repeat myself when she shakes her head, silently begging me to leave her be.
“You can’t help me,” she finally whispers.
My chest cracks at the desolation and honesty bleeding from her words. It only further proves that she’s running from something, and someone. Her eyes plead with me to walk away. Leave her to brave her own battles, even though she’s already succumbing to the fight. Unfortunately, I can’t do that.
CHAPTER 2
OAKLEY
25 years old
He’s not gonna let it go. I can see it in the man’s eyes as they trace the roadmap of scars scattered on my face. He thinks he can fix me. Fix my situation, make it so I’m not afraid to close my eyes at night. He doesn’t know there’s no fighting the monsters underneath my bed.
“Thank you for the offer, but I promise I’m okay. I was just trying to… compose myself before I head home.”
The man’s jaws clench, indicating he knows why I need to compose myself. I’m no stranger to incessant stares, or the vileness that can spew from the mouths of strangers.
My scars are a thing of nightmares. Something people only see in the movies where they can convince themselves creatures like that don’t actually exist.
I knew the probability of getting a job as a dancer was slim to none. Alright, closer to none. But I also know desperate times call for desperate measures, and I’d been hoping they had another position available I could fill.
“Do you need a ride anywhere?” the man tries again.
I search my memory, trying to remember his name. Shit, did he even tell me his name?
Obviously, I fail to hide my look of “Are you out of your fucking mind? I’m not going anywhere with you.” Because a bright smile tears across the worry on his face.
“I’m not going to hurt you, little one. I know you don’t think you can trust me, but I promise you can.”
I barely manage to hold back my snort. Yeah right. The list of people I can trust is about the size of a spider’s butthole. AKA—small as fuck.
Thinking of my list and how small it’s grown in the past few years only reminds me how well and truly alone I am in this world. The few people that know I’m alive either A—Don’t know where I am or how to find me, or B—Want me dead. Not the greatest combination, and definitely not one that leaves me seeing my next birthday.
I give the man my best ‘I’m not about to cry’ smile. “Listen…” I pause, hoping he’ll fill in his name.
“Jax. Jax Mendez.”
I nod. “Listen, Jax, thank you for offering to help, but like I said, I’m fine. I was just about to head home and start my job search over.” Lies, lies, lies.
His lips purse together causing them to pucker slightly and my eyes drop there. He really is a handsome man. Naturally dark skin indicating a Hispanic or native American heritage is covered in even darker tattoos. His sharp jaw is covered in a five o’clock shadow look that I can only assume is on purpose, seeing as it’s past midday. His green eyes are a few shades lighter than my own deep jade, and his midnight black hair is cropped tight and short to his scalp.
Despite his smile, he’s everything my mother told me to stay away from. He’s the embodiment of what society teaches young girls to fear. I’m sure a more sensible woman would be running in the opposite direction. But I’ve seen true evil. I know the real monsters are the ones that live among us. They’re bankers, teachers, husbands and fathers. They hide under layers of lies and only let their demons out to play when the sun goes down and the sky is at its darkest.
Putting on a false bravado capable of getting me nominated for an Oscar, I dust my hands off on my pants and rise from my squatted position behind the bar’s dumpster.
Jax rises as well but takes two steps back and I can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes me at the distance he puts between us. I may not be afraid of him now, but my gut has been wrong before, and for that, I paid a heavy price. I can’t make the same mistake again.
“Thank you for coming to check on me, but I should get going. My roommate was expecting me back a while ago, and I don’t want her to be worried.” Liar!
This seems to pacify him and he backs away another two steps, allowing me plenty of room to walk by.
“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry about Malcolm. The things he said…” he trails off and I give him a small smile.
“Don’t apologize for him. One day he’ll answer for the things he’s said and done. The knowledge of that is enough for me.” I walk away before he can say anything else. From the mouth of the alley, I turn toward home and don’t look back.
***
JAX
I watch her go, unease settling in my gut. She thinks she fooled me, but I saw through her facade for what it was. Back inside the club I dial Maddox’s number as I walk to the office and pull my key from my pocket. Once inside, I take a seat at the computer, fingers typing as the phone rings.
He picks up on the third ring just as the system boots up, opening to the cameras that are situated in and outside the club.
“Jax, listen, now’s not a goo—”
“Maddox.” I stop his attempt at an ill covered brushoff.
“Talk,” he grunts, and I grit my teeth at his distant and despondent tone. Push and pull. It’s always push and pull.
I know they’re at the courthouse finalizing Falcon and Tobias’ adoption, so I don’t waste time. “Since the shop is closed today, I figured I’d head over to corrupt to see if they needed any help. I know that place basically runs itself now, but I wanted to check in. While I was here, a woman came in looking for a job—guess she saw the flyers on the doors. At the bar she asked Malcolm who she needed to speak with, and that’s when everything went south. Girl had a hood pulled over her head so I couldn’t see her at the time, but Malcolm’s reaction was enough. Told her since dancers didn’t wear masks, there was no way she could work there. Implied she needed to wear a damn bag over her head. Ran outta here like her tail was on fire.”
Maddox growls on the other end of the line, clearly losing his patience with me. “Jesus Christ, get to the fuckin’ point, Jax.”
I blow out an unsteady breath in an attempt at reign in my building anger. “Right, right. Sorry. Anyway, I don’t know why Maddox—I can’t fuckin’ explain it, but I went to find her. It was like I needed to find her,” my voice shakes with the lie. I know why I needed to find her as well as he does. I have an incessant need to fix things—people—that are broken, and that girl is the very definition of the word.
“Okay, and? Did you find her?”
I nod. “I found her.”
“Okay, and?” he repeats. His lack of care for the girl and her situation boils my fucking blood.
“And I think you need to get down here, maybe bring Demon too,” my ton
e is short and not how I would usually address him, but he’s not taking this seriously enough.
“Why do I need to bring Demon?” Now he’s listening. Fucking finally.
Why does he need to bring Demon? Because Demon is the scariest mother fucker I’ve ever met. Add in his mean streak and the man isn’t someone to be fucked with. My gut is telling me we’re going to need his brand of scary.
“Listen, I could be way off base here, but this girl—something’s wrong, Madd. She tried to put on a brave face, but she’s fucking terrified of her own shadow, and it’s not just the way she’s looking over her shoulder with every move she makes.”
“Then what is it?”
“I have a feeling the reason she’s so scared is because someone hurt her… bad Maddox.”
He pauses, “Why do you think that?”
My eyes close of their own accord as images of her flash behind my eyes. “Because the scars are written all over her face.”
I wait two hours for Maddox to show.
He never comes.
CHAPTER 3
ANGEL
As I knock on Jax’s apartment door, I can’t help but swivel my head left and right to survey my surroundings. I fucking hate that he lives here. But with his heart of gold, he’s giving the majority of his paychecks to his mom and sisters each month, and this is the best he can afford. It’s been the start of many arguments between us, and until he leaves I’m sure there will be plenty more.
The door opens and Jax stands there looking annoyed, even though he’s the one who just took five minutes to answer the door. “The hell is that look for? You’re not the one who just had to stand in the hall for five minutes,” I grumble, pushing past him into his place.
The smell of Jax’s chicken and cheese enchiladas wafts from his kitchen and I groan, my nose leading the way to where heaven awaits. I peek inside the oven and my mouth waters at the bubbling, cheesy goodness.
