by Aden Lowe
Too tired to examine the ferocity of my feelings for the kids, I dropped my jeans and stretched out, getting all up close and personal with the lumpy sofa. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew, my fucking phone buzzed until I could no longer ignore it.
Only a few people had the number, so I answered without looking to see who it was. "Yeah."
"Fabio?" A female voice, slightly familiar, sounded small and scared.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry, I don't know who else to call."
Wide awake, I sat up and glanced at the screen to confirm my thought. "Justine, what's wrong?"
"I…Never mind, I shouldn't have bothered you. Good—"
"Wait! Just tell me."
The breath she drew sounded awfully close to a sob. "I shouldn't…"
"Look, I gave you my number. I told you to call if you needed anything. I meant that." Impatience tried to inject itself into my voice, but I shut it down.
Okay, no mistaking the sob this time. "I just…I'm ashamed. And in trouble."
"Where are you?" I fished my jeans off the floor and started pulling them on.
She made an unintelligible sound, then seemed to give up. "In the guest room closet at my parents' house."
"The closet? Is someone in the house?" I could think of no other reason for her to hide like that.
"Not now. There was a break-in today." The half-laugh she gave raised the hair on the back of my neck. "I shouldn't have bothered you with this."
"Key still under the patio stone?" I pulled my boots on.
"Key?"
"Yeah, the one I used to use to sneak into the house with. Remember?"
"I d-don't know."
Well, shit. "If it's not, I'll call you to come down and let me in. Ten minutes, Justine." I ended the call before she could change her mind. The dark stairs slowed me down a little, but I made it to Crank's door, at least.
I knocked and opened it. "Hey, Crank?"
He woke immediately, like always. "Yeah, man, what's up?"
Fuck, how to explain this one? "Uh, I need to go out for a bit. You keep an ear out for the kids?"
He sat up. "Don't give me that shit, man. What's up?"
I sighed and ran my hand over my hair. "I don't have time to explain. An old friend needs some help." The silent promise to tell him the full story would have to do.
"A'ight, man, just leave the door open so I can hear them."
"Thanks, man." I headed back down, and out to my bike. Normally when there were houses around, I made a little effort to stay quiet at night. I didn't have time for that, now, though. I just started the bike and gunned it hard, then rolled out fast.
The good thing about blasting through town in the middle of the night was the nonexistent traffic. The bad thing about blasting through town in the middle of the night was the cops had no other traffic to look at. It took the local law about ten whole seconds to decide I was a threat and turn on the blue lights.
Fuck. I did not have time for this shit. Still, a pursuit would not end well, and I had the kids to think of, not to mention Justine waiting for me. I pulled the fuck over, even if it went against everything in me.
I turned the engine off and waited for the officer to approach.
"Evening, sir. In a bit of a hurry, weren't you?" He came up beside me.
"Sorry, Officer. My friend called and she's upset. I was just in a hurry to get to her." Fucking stupid. I should have been more careful.
"License and registration, please." He didn't seem very sympathetic.
I handed my documents over, and waited while he went back to his car to run them. A moment later, he returned and handed them back. "Thanks."
"Your sister is the one that was killed in the accident the other day? With her husband?"
"Yeah. That's me."
"Sorry for your loss. Slow it down a little, alright? Have a good evening."
I couldn't fucking believe it, but I wasn't about to question the pass. "Thanks, Officer. Have a good night." I pulled away, careful to keep my speed down.
Fuck, riding down the street where Justine's parents lived brought back memories. Too bad I didn't have the time to go through them all. I coasted my bike into their driveway, shut it off, and went in search of the old secret key.
24
Justine
I felt like an idiot sitting in that stupid closet, but I couldn't bring myself to leave it, either. After I fainted, Dad woke me, and he and the Officer tried to get me to wait, but I went to my room. I had to see what they did, how they'd chosen to violate me this time.
When I went in the door, I tried to distance myself, see it as if it belonged to someone else. That didn't work so well. Each new horror jumped out at me, exactly the way they wanted.
The first thing I noticed was my panties and bras. They'd been pulled out of the drawer and scattered around. Then I got a closer look. My bras were slashed to pieces and my panties ripped apart at the crotch. Just like that night. But when I saw my bed, terror chilled my veins so I couldn't move, only stand there and look. A dried, slimy mess of semen covered my pillow and a pair of panties tossed in the middle.
When I stopped vomiting finally, I ran to the guest room and locked myself in, and wedged myself into the closet, beside boxes of holiday decorations and seasonal clothing. Thank God the police officer had returned my gun after he realized I was no threat.
I sat there for hours, holding my gun, waiting for them. When they came back, I was going to shoot them. My parents took turns trying to talk me out of the closet, but I never wavered, and eventually, they decided to give me time and space to come to terms, as my mother put it.
Long after the house went quiet for the night, Sam and Hudson barked outside, where my mother still forced them to stay. I panicked. What if those men had returned? The dogs quieted soon, but still, terror kept me cowering in the closet.
At some point, I remembered Fabio's text. Call if I needed anything. The facts I had collected about him began to run through my mind. International security firm. Imposing. Strong. Biker. If anyone could protect me, he could.
So I caved. I called him.
I don't know what I expected, but I didn't think he would come, not so late.
But the deep rumble of male voices came through the floor vent, and I recognized my Dad's rumble from long familiarity. I thought he went to bed long ago.
After a moment, heavy boots thumped on the stairs and in the hall. The guest room door gave way easily, despite the lock. "Justine? Come on out of there. Talk to me."
His voice felt so familiar, so safe, even though he'd been away so long. I ached to have him hold me. "I can't."
"Your dad told me what happened. You're safe now, no one's going to hurt you." The floor creaked as he seated himself outside the closet door. "I'm here now, and no one is getting through me."
Shame coursed through me and heated my face, quickly followed by hopelessness. "You can't stop them. Police all over the state have been trying, and still, they do it."
"What do you mean?"
The helpless tears came again. I couldn't tell him, couldn't have him hate me worse than he already did. And even if I wanted to, words refused to move past the choking sobs.
"Jus, baby, open the door, or I will." The old nickname fell from his lips as easily as it used to, and broke my heart.
I allowed those men to take that away from me, and so much more. I allowed them to hurt the man I loved. Guilt and shame combined with the weakness in my muscles, brought on by hours of crouching in a small space, and kept me frozen in place.
The floor creaked again as he moved. "You heard me, Justine, I'm opening the door." The knob rattled for a moment, metal scraped over metal, then the lock clicked and the door swung open. "Here, come out of there and talk to me."
Strong hands closed around my arms and lifted me free of the tight space. He slipped the gun from my numb fingers, and lifted me into his arms. Before I knew it, he settled himself on the b
ed, back against the headboard, and cradled me in his lap.
"Tell me what's going on."
The security he offered so easily broke me. I cried into his chest, grieving for everything we lost. Eventually, the tears slowed, and I started to talk. He didn't interrupt, just listened, stroking my back, patient, waiting.
I told him everything. All of it. How badly it hurt when they pushed their penises inside me, taking what was his. How terrified I was. How they came back, tracking me down over and over, and using phone calls to force me back to that night. How they were attacking other women, and my overwhelming shame for not telling. Every bit of it.
When I stopped talking, I sat there in his lap, utterly drained and defenseless. Shattered.
He stayed silent for so long I started to think he'd fallen asleep. Then he started to shake, his whole body trembling. Suddenly he clutched me tighter, and this big, strong man wept. He cried for everything taken from us.
Finally, the storm passed. We sat there, holding each other, devastated, but together. "Baby, they will never touch you again. I promise. I will do what-the-fuck-ever it takes to keep you safe. Fuck, I'm so sorry I left."
His words moved something inside me, a heavy stone I had carried since the attack. The anger I'd held against him for leaving me alone dissolved with his apology. "I know. I am, too."
"That's why you sent the letter."
I nodded against his chest. "I couldn't face it. They took everything from me, from us."
"No, baby, that's where you're wrong. You survived. They took a lot, but your heart still beats. Everything else, we can rebuild. It's all still there, just waiting. If you're willing to try." His chest rose and fell under my head, silently promising the strength and comfort I had needed for so long.
Was he right? Could we have us again? Did I have the strength to try? "I want to try." The words came unbidden, before I even realized the thought. They were out there, in the air, changing things between us.
"Will you come back to my sister's house with me? I don't want to let you out of my sight, but the kids had a rough evening, too. They need me to be there when they wake up."
Guilt made me pull back and look up into his face. "I'm sorry. I'll be okay. Go to them." How could I have asked him to leave those poor children on such a day?
His hands came up to gently cup my face. "No. I need you near me, Jus. I can't take the chance of them getting near you again. I can keep you safe there." He looked at me for so long, I started to get uncomfortable. "Please, come with me?"
Unable to resist the need that made his voice tremble, I nodded. "Okay. I'll come."
His mouth curved into a hint of a smile. "Thank you. Let's get some stuff together for you, for a couple of days. You'll be safe at the house. My Brother, Crank, is there, too, and he'll help make sure no one can get to you."
I nodded and he helped me stand, then led me to my room. Fear of the nastiness I would face inside that door made me cringe and hold back, but he gently encouraged me onward. Inside, the worst of the mess had been cleared away. Someone, probably my mother, had stripped my bed, and gathered up the things they left scattered around. The room still held that slimy feel that threatened to cover me again, but I managed to gather up some clothes and stuff them into a bag.
Fabio took the bag and led me downstairs to where my Dad still sat in the living room. "Mr. Carson, she's coming with me for a couple of days. I'll make sure she's safe."
"Thank you, Caleb." Dad stood and offered a handshake, then turned to take me gently into his arms. "You let him take care of you, sweetheart. I love you."
More tears started to pool in my eyes, but for once, I managed to blink them away. "I love you, too, Daddy. Tell mom I love her, and thank her for me?"
He nodded. "Okay, get out of here. I'm going to get some rest."
Outside, Fabio led me to his motorcycle, helped me with a helmet, and showed me how to climb on behind him. He went slowly as I clung to him, terrified of falling off, and exhilarated by the sense of freedom. Only a few minutes later, he pulled us into the driveway at his sister's house, and led me inside as the sky lightened with morning.
25
Fabio
If I thought I knew about destruction before, I had no clue. Nothing could compare to what Justine's words did to me. I felt everything she described. Every horror. Every violation. Every pain. Finally.
Remorse threatened to swallow me. I should have followed my instincts. I knew something about that letter rang false. But I let my anger, and my insecurities, get the better of me. I failed us both when it mattered most.
The price she paid to get through all that absolutely shattered her, and me along with her. The unimaginable damage of that one crime boggled the mind. If those men had chosen another target that night, I would have come back home and married Justine, right on schedule. By now, we might have had kids.
Maybe it stemmed from selfishness, but I needed to extract every single moment we missed from those men's hides. I needed them to feel even a fraction of the pain Justine and I suffered. I needed to shatter their worlds and leave them alive, broken shells of who they had been before. Just like us.
How might things have been if she'd told me back then? I had no idea how the younger me might have reacted. I preferred to think I would have been understanding, but I feared I might have sought to blame her. Things were pretty black and white for me, before the letter. Life taught me a few things since then. True black and white existed only in a vacuum.
Being around the club girls, some of whom came from rough circumstances, gave me a new understanding of exactly how vulnerable a woman was in our society. They carried nirvana around, right between their legs, and men would do absolutely anything to possess it, even for only a few moments. And when a man committed a crime for a few minutes of that heaven, society often placed the blame squarely on the woman. So many chose to bear the burden of sexual assault alone, and try to survive it.
I couldn't blame them, after seeing how the justice system worked for them. Or rather, failed them. Hell, even when it worked out, and the rapist went to jail, the sentence amounted to nothing compared to what the victim lived with. Reporting often unleashed a storm of criticism, and sometimes guilt. In the same circumstances, I would probably keep my mouth shut, too.
So the grown up me accepted what Justine said, took it all in, and built an irrepressible fury against the men who hurt us. While I vowed to keep her safe, I also made another, more sinister vow, to rain Hell Fire on their heads for what they'd done.
The Hell Raiders had an established method of dealing with rapists and pedophiles. We had the chance to refine our technique, on a large scale, in the aftermath of what happened with Trip's ol' lady, when we rained all kinds of Hell over the Saxons MC. That prolonged bloodbath also led to our term, Hell Fire.
So I brought Justine to my sister's house, where I could ensure her safety while I put things in motion. "Let's get you something to eat. You'll rest better."
She turned away. "I shouldn't be here. I'm sorry." By the time she reached the door, I was there, blocking her retreat.
"Jus, baby, I'm here now. You're not facing it alone anymore." It took everything I had not to put my hands on her. "I won't let them take you away from me again." The second thoughts came as no surprise. "We can talk about the future later. For now, it's all about keeping you safe. I failed you before. I won't again."
Allowing someone, me, to help her was uncharted territory, and it had her running scared. "I can't face them again. I just…I can't."
"I know, baby, and you're not going to. Let me help." I refused to think of the implications.
After a long moment, she nodded. "I'll try." Her voice was so low, I barely heard her. But she allowed me to lead her to the table, and ate the ham sandwich I gave her from the tray someone brought after the funeral.
I waited, watching her carefully. She stayed painfully alert, gaze continually roving, body poised for fight or flight. How the
fuck had people missed this? It was more pronounced now, following the break-in, but her behavior looked habitual. I'd seen it before, in people who lived under constant threat, in dire fear for their lives. Anyone near her on a regular basis should have spotted this shit.
"You should rest some. I'll make sure you're safe."
The moment she surrendered, and decided to trust me with her safety, I knew she still loved me. Something moved in my chest, and I refused to take a closer look. No matter what happened with this, I had to be careful, had to guard myself.
As soon as I had Justine settled on the sofa, and she dozed off, I made the call. The time didn't matter. Badger answered on the second ring.
"I need my Brothers, Badger." I gave him an abbreviated version of what was going on. "I need them ready for Hell Fire."
"Understood. I'm making the call now. They'll be there sometime tonight." He ended the call.
With those simple words, I felt better. With Hell Raiders at my back, vengeance was a foregone conclusion. It was our code, who we were. Fuck with one Hell Raider, the rest will come at you. Other clubs claimed the same code, and a few even lived by it, but we saw it a little differently.
The bond of brotherhood among the Hell Raiders gave us the strength and courage to go after obstacles no one else would even dream of attempting. These days, where other clubs operated in fear of someone rolling on them and turning evidence, we had complete confidence in our Brothers. And now that bond would bring my Brothers to my defense.
I made a quick check to be sure everything was still locked up, texted Mr. Carson to let him know we'd made it safely, then wedged my body around Justine's on the sofa. Despite the numbing exhaustion, my brain buzzed with questions, none of which had answers.
I had my woman back in my life. I could hold her in my arms, keep her safe. Now all I had to do was pray like fuck I made the right choices to either bring us back together, or at least allow us to survive.
***
"Fahv-bioooo." Tyler's whisper, complete with spit in my ear, woke me.
