Dinner.
He is really going to flip when he finds out dinner isn’t ready.
I wave my hand behind my back, trying to shoo the boys away. They don’t move. He does.
His breath comes down hot on my neck. “Lazy bitch,” he mutters as he raises his hand high in the air. The smack comes down, and I bite my lip so hard I bleed, trying not to cry out from the pain. The copper taste does nothing except send my adrenaline into overdrive. Then the punch to my stomach comes, hunching me over, and I bend farther to watch my little ones hurry away.
Hide, little ones, I think to myself.
In my distraction, I don’t prepare for the knee that comes to my face. I fall backward onto my ass as he climbs over me. My sweatpants are yanked down harshly as he straddles me, slapping my face from side to side and laughing with each roll of my neck.
He’s the dog, and I’m his toy.
I close my eyes as I feel him stand and undo his pants. Then he straddles me again, pushing my shirt up and moving my bra to rest on top of my large breasts, painfully constricting my chest. His cock is hard, sliding over my belly while he pinches my tender nipples painfully. I want to vomit.
“Love that cock, baby,” he groans as he squishes my breasts together and slides between them. “Titty fuck me good. Fuck my anger away. That’s right, my Pamela, fuck it all away.”
He scoots down and parts my legs, no doubt seeing my pants and bloody pad. He now knows this is not an ideal time, but does he care? No. He slams into me and pounds away, and my stomach lurches as my insides ache while he slaps my stomach to match each thrust.
“Gush for me, Pamela, gush,” he cries out as I feel wetness leak out of me. All I can think of is the mess on my carpet as he finally fills me with his release.
He slides out and his face pales. “Sick, bitch. Clean this up.” He stands to pull his pants up, and I see his blood-covered cock. I want to vomit, but more so, I wish it was his own blood covering his limp dick and not mine.
Dennis goes to shower and change, leaving me aching and a mess, emotionally and physically.
Slowly, I manage to make dinner while he showers—tator tot casserole is quick and easy. I feel my period getting heavier with every move I make. Somehow, I get through the night without disturbing him as I bleed through multiple times.
Once he leaves for work, I make the emergency call to my mom to watch the boys. Then I drive two counties over to the free clinic where I know they won’t push me about the bruises covering my face. I check in, and the nurse quickly offers me a rape kit that I laugh off.
“No, I’ve never bled this heavily, even after having my kids, so I just want to make sure everything is okay.”
She smiles a polite smile that screams she doesn’t believe me. After I pee in a cup, they take blood, and then I climb on the table, naked from the waist down, holding a pad to myself because I don’t want to bleed on the table while I wait for the doctor.
She is a gray-haired lady who is obviously ready to retire. She looks at my chart, looks at me, and leaves the room. Well, no one promises good bedside service at a free clinic.
She wheels in the ultrasound machine and pushes me back on the table. She wraps the wand with a condom while the nurse settles my feet into the stirrups, and she removes the pad. The wand goes in, and my body clinches automatically.
The rhythmic swish lulls me as I hear the steady thump of a strong heartbeat. Immediately, I cry. I know those sounds. That is the sound of my baby.
My baby girl. She made it through that night. I was nine weeks along, and the doctor felt she’d possibly had a twin that I lost, causing the bleeding. She couldn’t promise I wouldn’t lose this one, so I needed to take it easy and return in two days for blood work.
Two days turned into fifteen more weeks of one hard pregnancy, a pregnancy that wouldn’t make it full-term and would kill a part of me every single day after its loss. I should have left then. I didn’t, and my baby girl paid the price. My boys now do, too, living as someone they aren’t with my mother. They can’t know me.
When my phone rings, I look at the screen as dread fills me.
Unknown number.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Hello, Pamela.” Chills run down my spine at his voice. “I’m coming for you.”
Chapter Four
~Boomer~
I am a dick. I wasn’t raised to be a dick, but I sure have become one.
What’s the best way to get over pussy? Get balls deep in another one. Pamela had me for the last year. That ship has sailed.
I slap Keri’s ass. “Time to go,” I say, getting up and going to the motel bathroom without looking back. Then I freshen up, hoping she’s gone before I get out.
No such luck.
“Time to go,” I say again.
She is dressed and sitting on the edge of the bed. Her hair is wild, like we are back in the eighties, and her makeup is smeared. I know she got it good from me last night, so why hang around?
“Secrets, Boomer.”
“What about them, Keri?” I snap.
“We all got ’em.”
“Time to go,” I repeat firmly.
“I’m not talking about yours, Boomer; I know better. I’m talkin’ about Purple Pussy Pamela. You and her, I see it. Last night, you called out her name. I was sucking you off since my pussy couldn’t get the job done. I’m fucking and sucking, only for it to be her on your mind.”
“Watch yourself, Keri.”
“Secrets, Boomer, just think about it. She’s got ’em; you’ve got ’em; and not that anyone cares, I’ve got ’em, too. She cares about you, but the girl’s got secrets.”
“Last I checked, you’re a barfly, Keri, not a love doctor.”
“Love has nothing to do with it. I’m a woman who sees a woman who could use a friend. You’re the only one she’s let close.”
“What is this, the sisterhood now? You should shut the fuck up.”
“Get your head outta your ass, Boomer. You’re better than that. All the Hellions, badass as you are, have got a heart. That woman needs a friend. Be that friend, Boomer.”
Without another word, she leaves while my anger boils.
Who the fuck does she think she is? I’m a mother fucking Hellion, and she wants to tell me to get my head outta my ass? No more fucking that one.
I rub my beard. She sure wasn’t telling me to get my head from between her legs. Even if I was picturing a purple pussy with polka dots while I ate her hard, she still got hers.
I grumble as I gather my wallet, phone, and helmet. Then I set the no-tell motel room key on the bed and leave.
Getting on my bike, I hit the open road and don’t look back.
The mountains take my focus. My mind can’t drift. The gravel is solid beneath me, the wind blowing against my face, and the miles breeze by.
I haven’t been this twisted since I came home and faced Melonie.
She pounds on my chest, crying, sobbing, and her belly shaking with the baby inside who doesn’t know what he lost.
“He promised to love, honor, and protect, Boomer.” She pounds against my chest. “How can he protect me from the grave? How can he honor me when he’s no longer with me? He promised me forever, Boomer,” she screams at me, hitting me again with each word. “He promised to love me forever.”
“He did, he does, he will,” I reply as I take each hit from the grieving widow in my arms.
She stills, looking at me with swollen eyes, the tears falling down her face. “You ever been in love, Boomer?”
“No, I can’t say that I have,” I reply honestly.
“It’s all-consuming. I can’t breathe without him.”
I can’t breathe. The entire world stops in this moment. My brother in arms is gone, and his pregnant wife is hurting. She is going to live the ultimate sacrifice. I thought leaving on each mission, fighting, and killing were the sacrifices I made for my country. I thought my duty, my life on the line, was the greatest risk an
d the greatest pain to bear.
I was wrong.
I was wrong. The greatest pain is to survive; the greatest sacrifice is to those who are left behind. Melonie made the greatest sacrifice to our country, my country, in losing the man she loved, the man she had built a life with and trusted with her future. She gave it up in the name of freedom.
Where I am weak, she is strong. It hasn’t been easy, but she has gotten by for herself and for Taylor, their son.
I ride on. I press forward. The sounds around me fade to the steady tick of the engine beneath me. I could do this forever.
I was made for solitary life.
Then, as if I was being slapped in the face, I remember the sensation of her wrapped around me. I remember the pull of Pami’s fingers on my stomach and the squeeze of her thighs around me. Her presence soothes me.
Why?
She’s no different to me than Keri: a place to dip my stick every so often; release given and taken, no strings. So why do I want Pami on my bike? Why, in the middle of my darkest of thoughts, does my mind go back to her? Why can she pull me out of the sadness and make me want nothing more than to turn around and go back?
How, in all this time of riding free, do I suddenly find someone who can call me back home yet doesn’t want me there?
Secrets.
We all have them. Keri is right about that.
What would my purple-pussy lover think if she knew it would have been better to have been me that died, not Skid? What would everyone think if they knew that, in my mind, I beg to go back and take his place? I want nothing more than to trade my life for his. I have no woman, no love, no kid, no family … He had it all, lost it all, and here I am, running away again.
One of the elite, my ass.
I am nothing more than a pawn in Uncle’s Sam’s game against the world, now reduced to a bitter former soldier, the warrior inside me dead.
My stomach burns. My chest aches. There is nothing left to fight for.
~Pamela~
Don’t panic. Don’t panic. He will not win, I remind myself over and over to stay calm.
If he knew where I was, I would certainly be dead. If he knew where the boys were, I would be dead. I can’t mess this up by becoming careless now.
Absently, I rub my belly, the place where each of my children began. Day by day, they grew inside of me. My body provided them safety, nutrition, and love from the very beginning. I lost my precious baby girl, but I won’t lose my boys.
He hasn’t found them, I tell myself over and over. Think, Pami, think. How did he find me?
Absently, I straighten up my trailer, refusing to peek out of the windows. If he’s watching, I won’t give him the satisfaction of rattling me. Maybe he only has my phone number … Hopefully, he hasn’t found me yet.
Time to plan.
Today, I have to clean Doll’s house. Then I will give her my one-week notice. I can’t make any sudden moves if he has found me.
Going to the kitchen, I take out the cereal box—Lucky Charms, their favorite. I smile, thinking of my boys and the many times they have probably had this since I have been gone. My wish is for the end of the rainbow.
I pull out the money I have been saving and count it out. Although three thousand dollars won’t get me far, it will get me to another state and set up until I can find a job waitressing or something.
I hate to leave North Carolina, but if he’s found me, being in the same state as my boys is too close. If he can find me in Catawba, he can find them on the coast. Maybe my mistake was moving them and me to small towns. Maybe the city would hide us better. I will keep that in mind for my next location. Then, when it’s safe, maybe Momma should go to Raleigh or Charlotte. I now know I won’t keep us in the same state again, so wherever she goes, it will be far from wherever I am. Of course, that is going to take money, too.
Tears fill my eyes. I send her all I can. The Hellions pay well, but what will happen at the next place? I may not make enough.
I got too comfortable. I stayed too long. That’s how he found me. Now I have to uproot my boys again because of my mistakes.
Will they ever get to live their lives out of the shadow of the past? Will they ever get to be free from the poor decisions I have made over and over again?
My heart hurts, and the tears freely fall as I can’t hold them back. Focus, I have to focus. Just like when I made the move to leave, I must be careful and every step must be thought out. I can do this. I can start over and keep my boys away from him.
I make it to Tripp and Doll’s house on time physically. Mentally, I am a million miles away from the Catawba Hellions president’s house.
I am dusting the entertainment center when, for what seems like the millionth time today, I drop something. Specifically this time, I drop Tripp and Doll’s wedding picture.
I pick up the shattered frame as tears fill my eyes again. The love and happiness between them is seen in the photo. Their children will get to look at this and know they came from real love. My boys won’t get to see pictures like that.
I was knocked up with Colton, and my ex said let’s go to the courthouse so I could be on his work insurance. There are no pictures, and in my memories—if I block out what happened after that day—it was a happy occasion. Unfortunately, it is one of very, very few good memories.
I thought he would give me the world. After all, there are few men out there who would marry a chick they knocked up after only going out three times. There are few men out there who would so easily step up and take care of their responsibilities.
On the flip side of the same coin, I would like to believe there are few men out there who wish to dominate, control, and manipulate someone they claim to love. Deep in my soul, I would like to believe there are few men out there who relish in the power of bringing pain upon someone they love. Deep in my heart, I would like to believe in the power of real love. I would like to believe unconditional love does exist.
I don’t want to become a man hater. I don’t want to become a jaded, bitter woman. I simply want to be me. I want to be loved for my talents as well as my shortcomings. I want to be accepted for my beauty and my scars. I want to be me. I want to be loved from the inside out. I want to heal from the past and look forward to the future. I want someone who can take on my baggage and carry the load with me. I want to believe this can still be possible for me and for my sons.
I have to get my emotions under control.
I sweep up the fragments on the floor and carefully remove the picture. I clean the glass out of the frame and save the shell in case this one means something to Doll. I will pay for a new frame or have the glass replaced in this one, whichever she chooses.
I sigh and mumble to myself, “Get it together, Pami. Every penny counts.”
I am just about done cleaning when Doll comes in from grocery shopping. I help her unpack her belongings before getting ready to leave.
“I accidentally dropped the picture and it broke. I’m sorry. I’ll pay for a new frame or the glass if you want to use the same frame,” I go ahead and let her know as I hand her the photo and the frame.
She looks at it and smiles. “Best day of my life other than having BW.”
I open the envelope of cash she had left to pay me today when she reaches out and touches my hand.
“No worries. I can get a new frame.” She pauses and takes me in. “Why are you shaking?”
Always perceptive, the tiny blonde is. I should have known she would see through me.
“I need to give my notice.” My voice cracks on the final word.
“Oh, hell no. Triple P, that ain’t happening. Do you know how hard it is to find someone I can trust in my house when I’m not home? No, not accepted. If you need more money, consider it done. If you need a better place to stay, Tripp will make that happen. I’m not looking for a new cleaner. I need someone I can trust at the business and at home. You’re it, Pami, and I’m not letting you go.”
Pride fills me and my he
art swells. No one has ever wanted to keep me around except my own mom. I finally found a place I belong, and I have to give it up. I have to for my boys.
“It’s not the money, Doll.”
“Okay, so I told you when you applied we could get you a nicer place to stay if you wanted. Tripp can get it done in a matter of days. The boys can move your stuff.”
“No,” I stop her from planning. “I don’t mind my place. I told you before I don’t need anything fancy. I am fine in my trailer.”
“Then what?” she asks, genuinely concerned. “Is your mom sick? We can move her here.” She states it so simply.
Oh, what a joy it would be to have my mom and boys with the Hellions where I know he couldn’t get to them. I can’t do that, though. I can’t burden the club with my problems.
“I didn’t plan to stay here this long, Doll. I’m a free spirit, you know. It’s time to move on.”
“I don’t believe you,” she states. That’s Doll, never one to hold back punches.
“I have someone who means something to me. I have to handle it,” I say, tiptoeing around the truth.
“Aw, Pami, why didn’t you tell me you’re in love?” she adds excitedly.
“It’s not exactly like that. You just gotta know when to take a chance.”
“I understand taking chances. Oh, Pami, we are gonna miss you, but I understand.”
“I’ll finish out the next week, and if you want me to train Corinne, Keri, or someone else, I’d be glad to. I need to leave by next Saturday, though.”
“Thanks for the heads up, and this gives us time to plan a going away party.” She claps her hands happily.
Oh, Doll, this is far from a happy occasion.
Chapter Five
Simple Ride (Hellions Ride Book 6) Page 3
