“How long?”
“Almost a year. I was doing really well in school, and was less than two years away from graduating. I wanted to get my Education degree, become a teacher, and I was told that I’d get at least a partial scholarship and that I qualified for financial aid. I really, really thought that once I’d gone, then Hal could get his life back on track.”
“He’d lost his shot at pro ball though, hadn’t he?”
“Yeah. But he had all kinds of people in his corner, people who remembered him from his football days. Coaches, fellow players, even some of his college teachers… everyone was trying to help him out, and he was being inundated with offers. Teaching gym, or coaching at a high school, or running some sports camps. He could have done any of that, no problem. I really thought he’d go with teaching, to be honest with you. He really liked kids, and he volunteered every Saturday at a local community centre, coaching at-risk kids. He was so happy to give back, and he loved spending time at the centre.”
Warren was having a hard time wrapping his mind around all of this. He’d met Crusher Alcott a few times, and the man hadn’t shown one ounce of compassion for anyone at all. He was a huge man, one of the biggest that Warren had ever laid eyes on, and the fact that the guy had a semi-pro football background made total sense. But nothing else did: not him caring so much for his baby sister, or him sacrificing his dreams to be there for her when she needed him, or him working with at-risk kids. He wasn’t known for his kindness, at all.
No, what Crusher was famous for was crushing grown men’s wind pipes with his bare hands. He’d come by his name honestly, and he was a scowling, lethal bastard. The idea that Shay was related to him was – literally – heart-stopping.
How had Hal become Crusher? How had he gone from a kid with stars in his eyes to the man that Warren knew, the one with nothing but coldness in his stare? From being a generous, loving man, to being a full-blown monster?
Warren very much feared that he already knew the answer to those questions: what had happened to Hal was the Highway Hellions. Joining the MC had started the slow, inevitable, poisonous slide downwards and Warren suspected that now that the change had taken place, there was no way to come back. He thought that Hal was lost and gone, that Crusher had moved in and taken up permanent residency; he thought that Shay knew that, too.
He also feared that what had happened to Hal was going to happen to him. That it was already happening to him. That the metamorphosis from Warren to Derby was gaining a firmer hold every day – and Warren was sure that the man that he was becoming would soon be all that he was.
But not now. Not here. Not with Shay.
“So, when did he join the Highway Hellions?” Warren asked her, beating down his dark thoughts. “And why?”
She sighed. “Yeah. The Hellions. He joined when he was twenty-one.”
“What happened?”
“The factory went bust, and Hal was out of work. It was the worst possible time, too, since I’d fallen down running for the bus and broken my wrist. The medical bills on that were staggering, and so we were already struggling when Hal lost his job.”
“Aw, hell,” Warren said softly. He knew all too well how financial hardship made you vulnerable, and how worry about loved ones made you fucking desperate. “They offered him what he needed, and in return, they got his loyalty.”
Shay nodded. “They gave him a steady job, good money, a ready-made family, a chance for things to be better. Everything that Hal wanted so badly.” She was quiet. “Everything that he’d lost.”
“He still had family,” Warren protested. “He had you.”
“Yeah. But I was part of the problem by then. I was a huge expense: a mouth to feed, a body to clothe, a school kid to take care of. I was dead weight.”
Warren was horrified. “You weren’t…”
“I was.” Her voice was soft but firm. “From Hal’s perspective, I was. We hung on by our fingernails for about a year, with Hal working odd jobs, and drinking heavily, and getting in to fights most weekends. So when the Hellions spotted him in a bar fight one night and they saw how he kicked ass, they approached him. They offered him a bouncing job at their bar, and all Hal had to do was agree to be considered as a Prospect.”
“And so it began.”
“Yeah. That was almost ten years ago now, and you can see how it’s ended. Now he’s the President.”
“You two ever talk?”
“No. Never.”
“When did you last see him?”
“Six years ago. I was twenty-one, and we agreed that things between us were over and done with. He had a new family made up entirely of brothers, and I was an orphan and only child. I was on my own.”
“What happened?” he asked again. “That final break between you – what was it?”
She tensed under his hands, and he stopped brushing her hair.
“Shay? You don’t want to tell me?”
“No. I do. It’s just…” She stared in to the fire. “I did something back then… something that I’m not proud of.”
Warren waited some more. He was willing to wait all night, if that’s what she needed him to do.
Shay bit her lip, trying to find the courage to tell him this part. Even though she’d had her reasons for doing what she’d done, she didn’t want him to think badly of her. Then again, he’d just admitted to hurting people. Killing people. Maybe Warren was the only person in her world who’d not judge her for saving herself the way that she did?
“Hal patched-in quickly,” she said at last. “Within a year of prospecting. At first, I didn’t really understand what that meant, to be honest. I guess I just thought that he was a bouncer at a biker bar, and even though it was rough, he had a group of people that he could count on watching his back. I didn’t know that he’d been given an official title and job, and it was one that played to his strengths. His strengths were beating people near-to-death.” She hesitated. “To death.”
Warren’s heart sank. “He was an Enforcer.”
“Yeah.” She shut her eyes briefly. “And he was the best one they’d ever had.”
Warren didn’t want to know any specifics about that. “Dammit.”
“I know. Anyway, not long after he became a full member, he moved in to the clubhouse.” She shuddered. “We moved in.”
Warren froze. “Wait. You moved in too?”
“Yeah,” she whispered. “I’d just graduated from high school and Hal gave up our apartment, then refused to let me go to college or find a job because the club demanded that we be a package deal. If he wanted to commit for life, then by extension, I was club property. He agreed to that on my behalf… I never had a say in any of it. I had no choice.”
“Shit.” Warren was appalled, but not shocked. “He dragged you in.”
“Yeah. It took me that long to really get what Hal was in to. But by then, it was too late, of course. My sweet, protective brother was long gone, and a ruthless one-percenter biker was standing in his place.”
“Crusher,” he said heavily.
“Mmm-hmmm. The transition was complete by then, and he told me that I was to do whatever was asked of me by his brothers.”
Warren held his breath. “Including… what?”
Shay felt tears gathering in her eyes. “Cooking. Cleaning the clubhouse. Doing laundry. Wearing what they told me to, which wasn’t very much at all.” The tears rolled down her cheeks now, scalding hot and bitter. “Losing my virginity to the club President, and then being considered fair game to pass around to everyone else, no matter how many times I said no.” She bit her lip, bit down a sob. “Some of them were careful or gentle with me, and tried to make it good for me… but it wasn’t ever good because it wasn’t ever my choice.”
Warren felt the rage moving up his body, and he almost shook with the force of it. She didn’t need that, though,
didn’t need his anger. He sucked in a deep breath, prepared himself to say something – fucking anything – to soothe her, but she spoke first:
“It went on like that for over two years.” Shay hunched her shoulders, curled up and in on herself. “I thought about killing myself every day. I – I even tried a few times, but they were watching me too closely for me to manage it. And I didn’t want to die, not really. I just wanted it all to stop.”
“Fuck,” he growled, beyond horrified now. He hauled her in to his arms, felt how her body trembled. “Shay, I’m sorry. God, baby, I’m so, so sorry.”
She cried then, her face buried in her arms. She couldn’t face him in this moment, and he didn’t force the issue. He just held her, her shaking back pressed tight to his powerful chest, and let her cry. He rocked her back and forth, pressed his lips to her tumbled hair, told her that he had her now.
Warren found that he needed a few minutes to get his head together, anyway. He was remembering what he’d said to Shay that morning, about how if the mood struck him, he could tie her down and rape her until she begged for him to stop. Fuck, what must she have been thinking right then? What memories had resurfaced after he’d stormed on out of there and locked her in?
As she wept, Warren berated himself for his stupidity, his cruelty. And he promised himself that this woman wasn’t going to feel unsafe or unprotected in his presence. Never again.
Gradually, she quieted. Warren held on, waited some more. At long last, she sat up and sighed. She took off her glasses and wiped her face with her hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice trembling. “I hate being weak.”
“Don’t,” he said, anger at what had happened to her making the word come out too harshly. “Don’t you ever apologize to me for showing hurt, Shay. We clear?”
She nodded, but he needed to see her eyes. Slowly, he leaned forward, turned her face to him. She gazed up, and all he saw was an endless ocean of pain in those green depths. His heart squeezed, and he traced the curve of her cheek with his thumb.
“Alright?” he said softly.
“Yes.”
“For real?”
Shay gave him a quick smile. “For real.”
“C’mere.” He tugged her down to the rug, settled her against his massive frame, her head on his bicep. He stretched out next to her, almost eye-to-eye. “Is this OK?”
She nodded, and he stroked her wavy hair with his hand now. Over and over, the movement soothing and calming, and she felt her whole body warm under his gentle ministrations. She closed her eyes, and let him comfort her. Again. Some more.
Warren felt her go soft and pliant in his arms, saw her face go sweet and relaxed. The longing to kiss her was huge, but no way he was giving in to it. She’d been forced in to bed by MC assholes, and rape had been her introduction to what should have been a beautiful act of consent, so she may well be afraid of sex. Whatever happened between them – if anything – it was going to happen at her initiative.
End of fucking discussion.
She curled up closer, and he smiled down at her. God, she was like a kitten in this moment, all small, burrowing softness. Her hands came up now, held on to him. Her breath was warm on his throat, her hair tickled his skin, and he felt her come back to herself.
“I’m OK, Warren,” she said. “I’m good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes.”
“Shay?”
“Yes?”
“How’d you get away from that whole life?” He paused, wondering if it was a bad idea to make a joke, decided to go for it. “Did you hit someone with a frying pan and head for the hills?”
Her eyes flew open, and she stared at him. “Did I – what?”
“Go all Ninja stealth-attack on some Highway Hellion ass? ‘Cause God knows, baby, you’re more than up to the job.”
She stared at him some more, all wide-eyed and gorgeous. Then she burst in to laughter. Relieved, he grinned back. When she finally stopped laughing, she looked like herself again. Her amazing light was back, and he loved how it made her glow. Good Christ, this woman could light up a room with her smile. She could sure as hell light up his world.
“No, I did not go all Ninja on those MC assholes,” she said, that sassy tone back in her voice. “I didn’t discover my inner Ninja until I’d already left the clubhouse for good.”
“OK,” he said. “So how’d you get away from those pricks?”
“Good, old-fashioned blackmail.”
“Atta girl. Now, tell me.”
“Long story short: my brother killed a guy and there was a witness. Not the most reliable witness on the planet, since he was a drug dealer, but still. He was willing to stand up in court and in exchange for some plea bargain, he’d testify that Hal had killed this other drug dealer. Hal came to me, said that he needed me to be his alibi.”
“Why you?”
“Because I was the most respectable person that he knew, by far. I didn’t have a criminal record, I was still sweet and innocent-looking, and I was doing some online correspondence courses in Education. I was someone that didn’t look or talk or act like everyone else in the MC world, and even though I didn’t fit in the real world, I sure as hell wasn’t like the hellions or old ladies. You know what I mean? I hadn’t been totally crushed or destroyed by the MC. Not yet.”
“Did you do it? Be his alibi?”
“I did, but only on the condition that after I did that for him, I was free.”
Stunned, Warren propped himself up on his elbow. “You – you bought your freedom from the Hellions by lying to the cops for your brother?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I told you that back then, I did something that I’m not proud of. This was it. I knew it was wrong, but I just… I just couldn’t see any other way out.”
“Oh, Shay.”
“I know.” She averted her eyes, terrified to see the disappointment on his handsome face. “It was a horrible thing to do.”
“I don’t think so.”
Her head jerked up. “You – really?”
“Yes, really. You were being held prisoner by the MC, and what they were putting you through was fucking inhumane. They’d have never let you go, and you know it, baby. You did what you had to do to survive, and even though some people might get up on their moral high horses about lying to the cops, I don’t blame you for one second. You were all alone and nobody was coming to help you. The one person who should have stopped it all and protected you was the very person who betrayed you. Your own brother threw you to the wolves, and then he turned his back on you as they set to tearing you apart. You had to get yourself out and away, and that meant being fucking ruthless.” He paused. “I’m just sorry that it’s all happening again, isn’t it? Once again, you’re having your freedom and choices taken away by a gang of bikers… and now I’m one of them.”
She winced at the self-loathing in his voice. “I don’t think of you that way. Not anymore.”
“I do.”
“No.” She ran her fingers over his beard, traced the curve of his mouth. “No, Warren. Please don’t. You’re not like them.”
He shut his eyes at her touch, amazed at how quickly he fell apart under her fingertips. This was the first time that she’d reached out to him, that she’d caressed him, and he was already putty in her small hands. If she asked him for the moon right now, he’d damn well figure out a way to drag it out of the night sky for her. He’d do anything that she asked, do it without question.
“You really think that, Shay?” He could barely get the words out, just in case she’d come to her senses and changed her mind in the past three seconds. “That I’m not like them?”
“I know you’re not.”
He opened his eyes now, held her bright gaze. And when she smiled at him, so trusting and relaxed in his arms, so fucking beautiful, he actuall
y felt his heart split wide open for her… and she just crawled right on in there.
“So that’s how you got away,” he said, trying to stay focused. “How’d you end up in Montana? Also, how’d you learn that lethal spin-kick?”
She giggled, and he was overjoyed to hear it.
“Yeah, well. I kept Hal out of jail, and the club let me go. They weren’t thrilled, but they did keep their word. I had nothing more than a suitcase and some money from some babysitting jobs and weekends working in a café all through high school. I found work as a waitress, and reapplied to teacher’s college, and applied for financial aid. I was accepted to a college up in Montana, and I went without one second of thought. I graduated, and was lucky enough to get a job at the high school where I’d done my practice teaching. I stayed there for two years, then applied to the private, all-girls school that I’m at now.” She paused. “And, uh, well. That’s it. That’s me.”
“And how are you doing with… ummm… have you…”
His voice trailed off, and he had no clue how to ask her about being around men. Being with men. Shay understood what he was driving at, though.
“I joined a rape survivor’s group,” she said quietly. “I got intensive private therapy. I’m past it all, for the most part. I’ve been lucky in that there have been men since everything that happened. Good men, men who’ve been patient and treated me well. But I never –” She hesitated. “I never told them what happened.”
“Never?” Warren was stunned. “But how’s that possible?”
“Well, I told them that I’d been raped, since they needed to go slow with me, but I never went in to details. I sort of led them to believe that it was only one guy and only one time. I haven’t told anyone anything about my life in the MC outlaw world… not until now. Not until you.”
Dark Curves (Dangerous Curves Book 6) Page 13
