by Kira Adams
Although she’s become complacent and quiet, there is a lingering sadness behind those emerald eyes. It’s hard because she has a beautiful smile. It can brighten the darkest of days, but without it, she’s not the same.
“Where are you going?” The words leave my lips as Ammo and Money reach the door of our hotel room.
“We’ve been cooped up long enough, don’t you think? We’re far enough from home that going out to a bar for a couple of drinks shouldn’t raise any red flags. You want to come?” Ammo asks, his hand on the doorknob.
Glancing back at Mikhaela, it’s the first time she’s been included as one of us. “What about you?”
Mikhaela shrugs. “I’m open, if it’s okay with you guys.”
Ammo laughs and it makes me crack a smile. “I think we are far past that point.”
“Okay, then I’d like to tag along,” she replies. “Although, I don’t have my ID so maybe this isn’t the best idea.”
“What if we went, ordered some food, and brought back some grub and beer for you guys? That work?” Ammo is always able to find a solution when it isn’t super obvious.
Mikhaela nods. “I’m good with that.”
“Okay. We will text you a pic of the menu. Make sure to send me your preferred beer.” Ammo says, slapping me on the back.
Then there were two.
She doesn’t bother looking up from her pen and paper. She’s been quieter than normal which is never a good sign in any scenario. “What are you writing?”
Finally, her gaze moves to me. “Just some things I’d like to do when…”
Even though she trails off, I catch her drift. Grabbing the paper from her, my eyes work my way through it. “Get my passport. Learn to snowboard. Travel abroad. These are awesome.”
She nods, grabbing the paper back. “It’s more like a to-do list.”
My eyebrows rise. “Good for you. It’s always better to write things down; helps manifest them. Plus, as soon as we get to Canada, you can knock one off. Have you really never snowboarded before?”
She shakes her head back and forth. “I was more like a caged bird to my father. He fed me and bathed me, but never let me see the outside world. Tito always said it had to do with the business he’s in, that he wouldn’t be able to protect me from it. Being that he was fine with me becoming a peon, it’s hard to believe he was trying to protect me from anything.”
“I can understand that.”
Mikhaela takes the piece of paper back and hugs the list close to her chest. “What is your real name?”
Her question catches me off guard. Although, we have stopped worrying if our names are slipped, we have not gone out of our way to let them be known. “Why?”
She glances back at me through lowered lashes. “We have been together for weeks now; don’t you think it’s about time?”
Sighing, my internal struggle begins. On one hand, she has proven that we can trust her. She has not turned us in; she’s been more worried about the opposite happening. “Bo.” It comes out short and with a bite and makes me feel instantly guilty.
She cocks her head to the side, her thoughts taking over. “Yeah, you do look like a Bo.”
Her words make me smile and I’m unsure why.
“What if I told you I have an idea of how to get you guys out of this mess?”
My eyes remain on her. “I’d say you better start talking.”
She places the paper down on the coffee table in front of her. “My father is going to recruit my cousin to find the money. He’s a bloodhound. If he doesn’t find us, I’ll be shocked.”
Swallowing, her words digest. “And that plan of yours…?” I trail off, hoping she will ease my nerves soon.
“My father will not stop looking while we are alive…what if we faked our deaths?” Her words make me freeze instantly. Doing this would mean we could never go back to our former lives. Bo Drake would not exist.
She senses my uneasiness. “Look, I know it’s not the ideal situation, but we both know my father and the lengths he will go to. If he finds me, there is no way he won’t immediately throw me into the family business. He was trying so hard before you took me; the only thing standing between us was Tito. He stalled him. I can’t be what he wants me to be; do what he wants me to.”
She’s terrified of being found by her father. One can only imagine the horrors that await her if she did return. If nothing else, I cannot let that happen. Faking my death means not talking to Carly or paying for her tuition. She wouldn’t be going if it weren’t for me. I’d have to figure out some way to pre-pay before disappearing. My other siblings would eventually get over it, but she and I have a different bond. We always have.
“Let me discuss it with the guys first and see what they think of everything. It’s either running for the rest of our lives or faking our deaths to be reborn and live again. The decision seems simple, but these guys are far from that.”
“Okay, I think I’m going to take a shower.” Standing up, Mikhaela makes her way toward the bathroom. Her foot catches on something along the way, tripping her. She falls face first onto the carpet.
“Whoa, are you okay?” I ask, already shuffling toward her body on the ground.
A noise comes out of her and at first, I think she might be crying, but quickly realize that she is laughing so hard she is snorting. It’s quite fascinating. “Did you just snort?”
This sends her into another fit of laughter. “Yeah, it’s just something that happens sometimes.” Within seconds she is back on her feet and heading toward the bathroom. The water turns on and for a moment before she closes the door, my eyes catch a glimpse of her bare back as she removes her shirt. There are scars littering the length of it. I’m curious about them, but not about to ask. For a slight moment, I wish I could freeze time and just live in the moment with her warm laughter and the drama from Eduardo, gone. As much as I’m enjoying her company, a guy has needs.
Standing, my legs take me all the way across the room to the door. “I’m going to get some air. I’ll be back later.”
When I left on foot, the only things I had on me was a twenty-dollar bill and the hotel key. My wallet must still be in the room with my belongings. Trudging along for far too many blocks, my eyes finally spot a hole in the wall looking bar. It’s perfect, they won’t dare card me.
The bar is small and intimate with a few high boys and stools. Strobe lights illuminate the walls and floor, dancing around to the beat. Luckily, for me, the place is dead. The music blares at the same level as if they had two hundred guests packed into the tight space.
“What can I get you?” the friendly looking blonde asks. She has chocolate colored eyes and full, pink lips. Her small breasts are pressed together by a dangerously low and lacy bra that peeks out of her shirt.
“What do you have on tap? Do you have any stout?”
She nods. “We have Guinness?”
“That works for me.” She spins around, grabbing a cold glass and heading towards the opposite direction. Her hips sway when she walks, making my imagination grow wild. My dick jolts because it’s been far too long since it’s had any action. In fact, the last time I saw Katerina, we were too busy dealing with the gun shot to get hot and heavy. She’s texted a few times since we left, but I’ve left her on read.
The sexy bartender returns, placing the cold glass in front of me. “Cash or card?”
“Cash.” Reaching into my pocket, my eyes trail her face, waiting for the total.
“Eleven dollars.”
Pulling a twenty from my pocket. I hand it to her. “Keep the change.”
Her eyes bulge out. “Are you sure? That’s…”
I cut her off before she can continue. “I’m sure.” Flashing her one of my million-dollar fake smiles works and she’s now fawning over me as she takes the extra nine dollars and adds it to the tip jar.
“So, are you from Columbia?” she asks, as she dries off a glass.
Imagining growing up in the small town
of Columbia, Pennsylvania is difficult. Shaking my head, I take a swig off my Guinness.
She seems surprised by my response. “Where are you from?”
“Tennessee.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “You’re far from home. What brought you to our small town?”
“Actually, just traveling through. Headed to New York.”
She nods, still cleaning glasses, stopping to refill a beer before continuing. “So, what is in the Big Apple?” Studying her body, my eyes rake her up and down. She is short and petite with curves in all the right places.
“A new beginning.”
She smiles mischievously before leaning over the bar, her breasts on full display. “Maybe you could experience a little of Columbia before leaving.” The way she says it lets me know that she is the ‘little’ part.
“Maybe I could,” I reply with a warm grin. The Guinness giving me the extra bit of edge needed.
“What’s your name, sugar?” she asks, batting her long lashes at me.
“Aden.” It’s habit to never give out my real name for so many different reasons. Especially now with everything going on. “What about you, gorgeous?”
She blushes, tucking her chin in. “Delilah.”
The door chimes and in walks a pair of customers. Delilah looks perturbed. “Welcome to Shanks.”
The pair acknowledges her and then seats themselves at one of the booths.
“I’ll be right back, honey. Don’t you go anywhere. We have some unfinished business.”
She is tied up giving them menus and drinks for some time before returning.
“So, where were we?” she asks, once she can finally take a breath.
I chuckle. “I’m not sure we were anywhere…”
She flashes me a flirty grin. The kind that lets me know that she’s open to getting physical. “Well, perfect. That just means we have more to cover.”
“What else do you want to know?” Because I’m horny, humoring her isn’t annoying me as much as it usually would.
“What do you do?” She leans her elbows on the counter, placing her face in her hands. Once again, her breasts are on full display with this move and I can’t complain. Even though her tits are smaller, her push up bra gives the illusion they might be bigger than they are.
“I make music.” It’s not entirely the truth, but isn’t false either. I’ve been making music first with Fruity Loops, and then Garage band, and most recently, Logic Pro. Completely self-taught, most of my training came from YouTube tutorials that were rewound and played repeatedly. Deciding not to tell her how my money is actually made seems like the smarter choice.
“Wow. That sounds so interesting.”
I nod. “Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. But I’m also a sound engineer.” With only three paid gigs under my belt, the term is used loosely.
“Well aren’t you all kinds of talented?” Her eyes light up as she stands straight. The door chimes and a family of four walks in.
“Hi, welcome to Shanks. I’ll be right with you.” She turns her attention back on me. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I need to go take care of this. Don’t you think of going anywhere.” She winks at me and then walks away.
Usually, it’s girls waiting on me not the other way around, but my dick needs this release tonight and something tells me she is going to spread like butter for me.
Sure enough, not even two hours later, I have her face down, ass up, on her kitchen table. She’s a decent fuck. She doesn’t just lay there and wait for me to do all the work. She actually moves her hips in ways that feels good for the both of us.
We spend the next forty-five minutes in a sweaty oasis of body parts tangled in one another. By the time I leave, I’m worn out. Every bone in my body aches from the rigorous workout that just took place. If only it was feasible to do workouts of the sexual kind, life would be amazing.
By the time I return to the hotel, it’s late and I have to maneuver through the room, guided by only the faint light illuminating from the television. Mikhaela is fast asleep in her bed, her back facing me.
The smell of bar food wafts throughout the small space. My eyes notice the beers and to-go containers scattered amongst the table in the middle of the room. My stomach rumbles reminding me that before I left, I was starving. As my feet lead me to the table, something catches my eye.
Mikhaela has changed out of her usual sweatshirt and is now in a white tank top. The blankets cover her bottom half, but I assume she’s dressed. My eyes focus on the back of her arms as my feet take me to her.
Littered all over in various shades of pink, are scars. Her back tells a story of pain and perseverance. The scars look old and withered, and it makes me wonder how long she’d been putting up with the torture before we took her.
My fingers reach out instinctively, but I pull them back before they touch her skin. At some point, she will feel comfortable enough to tell me the stories behind the marks. I watch for a few seconds as she remains peacefully still. Someday, she will get to experience all the things she wrote on that list, and I will make sure of it, even if it’s the last thing that I do.
Mikhaela
I’ve seen a different side to the people who turned my world upside down. A side where the efforts they went through for the money is balanced by the fact that they give back. In every single city we have passed through, they have made it a point to give back to those less fortunate. It’s an anomaly. Generally speaking, most of the times when you steal something you do it for yourself not for someone else. In this instance, they play both sides of the fence.
You could relate it to Dexter, the television show. In it, the main character is a serial killer who only hunts “bad” people. Throughout the show, the writers attempt to show his humanity so the viewers relate to him and feel for his struggles. Even though he only kills by a certain set of rules, it does not mean that he isn’t a murderer.
These guys were once normal, everyday people. Circumstances in their lives led them here, but this lifestyle they live, it was learned. Violence has been weaved throughout their past. When they started the dangerous game of stealing from the rich to give to the poor, they did it because they were fed up with society. How society takes care of the powerful and evil and shits on the ones who really need the help.
Water cascades down my back, touching every one of my scars. It’s been a long time since they hurt, but that doesn’t mean I can’t feel them. My legs, arms, and back are littered with red lashes from the leather belt beatings. In the beginning, Tito would plead with Eduardo not to mark me up, using the excuse that it would be too hard to move me if they ever did bring me into the business as one of the girls. But after countless times of the same treatment, it was obvious the scars weren’t going to heal like he thought. Eventually, it got harder for him to justify trying to put me in when the damage was so extensive. No one would want me like that, and he would be looked at with scrutiny for letting it get that far.
Staying covered up isn’t usually a problem but being that it is the dead of summer and temperatures have only been rising, it’s been a challenge. Climbing out of the shower, I grab the white hotel towel and run it up and down my body. It’s coarse and rough on my skin. Looking in the mirror, my face looks skinnier. The abduction diet has been working marvelously for me.
One of the reasons Eduardo began beating me in the first place was because I didn’t have the correct look to be in the business. I was too thick, I ate too much, and that bothered him. Anytime he thought I was overeating; he would get the belt. Anytime I had anything sweet, he would punish me. He placed a lock on the fridge and told our chef to only feed me “rabbit food”. With all the lengths he went to, it should have guaranteed a skinny daughter…but giving into him was easier said than done. He took away everything from me, my freedom, my choices…if there was one thing in the world I could control, it was food. There were so many people surrounding him on a daily basis that enabled me. So many followers who could be easily manipulated to sneak
a young girl food.
By tonight we will be at the border. One side holds all the pain from my past and the other has all the possibilities for the future. Eduardo will never stop looking for his money or me, but hopefully he will go to all the wrong places before ever considering Canada.
The temperatures are already spiking and it’s inevitable that my arms, legs, and possibly even some of my shoulders and back may show. Standing in the bathroom for what feels like an eternity, my eyes rake over my exposed areas. The scars are various shapes, sizes, and colors. I’ve kept covered up since the beatings because I didn’t want people to look at me like a circus freak. There’s no other option with the sun glaring down on us every single day.
Since the abduction, I’ve been in the same clothes they gave me after a week into my stay. A sweatshirt and leggings. This probably sounds fucked up, but I wonder if Stefano would let me borrow some of Trinity’s clothes. We weren’t anywhere near the same size, but maybe there’s something that would fit me. He’s been lugging around the extra suitcase everywhere with him, which has all her belongings in it. The other guys haven’t had the heart to ask him to part with it.
Opening the bathroom door, my eyes dart around the darkened room. I’ve been staying with Stefano on this leg of the trip and he tends to stay out late and sleep in the same. Poking my head out, his tall, lanky figure comes into focus as I watch his chest rise and fall. So far, out of all three guys, the only one who snores is Kevin, so that’s been a plus for me. I get the most sleep with Bo or Stefano.
It still feels weird calling the guys by their legal names but calling them by their aliases also feels wrong. It’s a catch-22. Tiptoeing out of the bathroom, my legs take me straight to the pink suitcase in the corner of the room. It’s been untouched since everything happened, but would it be the worst thing in the world to take a quick peek and see if I can find something that may fit? Would that be disrespecting Trinity in any way? How terrible is it of me to consider stealing from a dead girl?
