by Katie Ashley
Mendoza jerked his gaze over his shoulder. “Didn’t I make it perfectly clear that I was not to be disturbed?” he snarled.
The man’s face paled. “Uh, yeah, but, uh, I think this is something you will want to see.”
“What is it?” Mendoza hissed.
With a shaky hand, the man thrust out a few black-and-white pictures. “I have some friends at the border. I had asked them to be on the lookout for any American girls who fit Roja’s description.”
Mendoza snatched the pictures out of his hand.
“I weeded out the ones that couldn’t possibly be her. There’s a few who have potential. Of course, they’re black and white, so that makes it harder to look for her hair.”
After staring at two of the photos, he chucked them to the ground. He had every inch of Roja memorized, so he knew when the breasts were too large or small or the face too round.
He grunted with frustration as he came to the last photograph. When he peered down at it, a mixture of hope and anger filled him. Although the image wasn’t completely clear, he knew without a shadow of a doubt it was his Roja. But as soon as he had identified her, rage coiled through him at the sight of her with a strange man. Was this the one whose name she had called out? “Find out everything you can about this man.”
“But we don’t have anything to go on. Not a license plate, and I’m sure if they were fleeing, they used fake passports.”
Mendoza narrowed his eyes. “I gave you an order.”
The man paled for a second time before he swallowed hard and said, “Yes, sir.”
When Mendoza was once again alone, he gathered his scattered thoughts. He loathed unfinished business. First, he would rebuild his camp. Every day that went by without business was money out of his pocket. Taking care of Roja could wait until he was back on his feet.
In the end, she wasn’t going anywhere. When he didn’t come after her at first, she could have her false sense of security. But then he would track her down.
He would have her tight pussy around his cock one last time before he cut her beating heart from her chest.
Roja. Was. Fucking. His.
TEN
ANNABEL
After the moments of tense scrutiny of our documents at the border, the adrenaline had left me reeling. When Rev instructed me to climb into the backseat, at first I had wanted to argue like a petulant toddler that I wasn’t tired. But instead, I had happily eased over the seat and into the back, smiling at the evidence of Breakneck’s kindness and concern—the pillow and blanket. Although it was too hot to cover up, I laid the blanket over the worn leather seat and curled up with the pillow. Soon I was lulled into a deep sleep.
I had no idea how many hours had passed when I woke up to Rev gently shaking me. “Time to stop for gas and something to eat, Sleeping Beauty.”
With a yawn, I replied, “Not hungry.”
“Nope. Don’t want to hear anything other than your chewing. You need food to build your strength back up.”
I popped one eye open to look at him. “Eesh. You’re so bossy.”
He grinned down at me. “Come on.”
“Perfect,” I mumbled as I sat up in the seat. I rubbed my aching neck with one hand and opened the car door with another. “Where are we?”
“About an hour or two from the Louisiana state line.”
I felt my mouth gape open in shock. “I slept the entire way across Texas?”
“Pretty much. ’Course, I was making good time. Cops don’t pay much notice to hunk-of-junk cars.”
I grinned. “I see.” As I gazed around the parking lot at our surroundings, I saw that Rev had stopped at some mom-and-pop greasy-spoon kind of diner. From the eighteen-wheelers lined up in the parking lot, I could tell the place catered to truckers. “We’re eating here?” I questioned, trying my best not to openly express my disappointment.
“Are you insinuating this place is a dump?”
My cheeks instantly warmed. “Of course not.”
“It’s okay, Annabel. I was just teasing you,” Rev replied. “This place does look like kind of a dump, but it just so happens to come highly recommended.”
“It does?”
He laughed. “Don’t sound so surprised. Good food doesn’t always have to come on linen tablecloths and on fine china.”
“I am well aware of that,” I countered. When he ducked his head to rummage around in the trunk, I added, “For the record, I haven’t always eaten on fine china with silver. I do know how to be normal.”
Rev closed the trunk lid. I saw then he held his leather cut in his hand—the one I hadn’t seen him wear since my first night in the hospital. He slid it on, and almost instantly, his appearance changed in front of me. The kind, approachable Rev seemed to fade away and in his place was a tougher, rough-around-the-edges guy. It was more than just a little unnerving.
He had become so in tune to my feelings that he immediately looked at me with scrutiny. “What’s wrong?”
“Why did you just put that on?”
While he tried to shrug off the question, I could see his jaw clenching like he was holding back. “It’s my cut.”
“But why now? I mean, I get you not wearing it at the border where you could be identified.” I drew in a deep breath and repeated an earlier question. “Are we in some kind of danger?”
Rev stared at me for a moment before exhaling a loud breath. “Look, Annabel, there’s a lot about my world that you don’t understand and you don’t need to understand.”
“So you can’t explain to me why putting on a piece of leather matters?” I motioned to his cut.
“Just know as long as you’re with me, you’re not in danger.”
“Especially since you’re wearing that cut now?”
Rev growled as he shoved his keys in his pocket. “You just can’t leave it alone, can you?”
“Being stubborn is part of my being normal, too,” I countered.
I was grateful when he finally smiled at me. “I know you can be normal, Annabel. In fact, I don’t know if I’ve ever seen someone able to be so ‘normal’ in spite of what all she’s been through.”
“Thank you,” I murmured.
“So come on. You need a nutritional meal, and this place is supposed to have really good food—some nutritious shit that you need.”
When I realized that was all I was going to get from him, I reluctantly agreed. “Okay.”
As we walked across the parking lot, Rev kept his hand at the small of my back. When we walked inside the diner, the bell over the door tinkled, alerting the patrons to our presence. It seemed to me that conversation momentarily halted, but it also could have been just my imagination.
A waitress who reminded me a lot of “Kiss my grits” Flo from the TV show Alice came up to us. I’d often watched old reruns on the television set in the kitchen when I was growing up. Our cook had been a big fan of the show. “Two?”
“Yes, please.”
She grabbed some menus. “Follow me.”
As we passed a row of booths and tables, the hardened-looking truckers took notice of Rev. Then I witnessed an expression of respect pass over their faces. I knew then the reason why he had put on his cut. There was unspoken power in the worn leather, and at the moment, I was grateful for it.
We slid into a booth next to a large glass window. The waitress handed us the menus. “What can I get you to drink?”
“I’ll have a Coke,” I replied.
“And you?” the waitress asked Rev.
“I’ll take a sweet tea and a milk.”
The waitress scribbled down our order. “Be right back.”
I started to glance over the menu when Rev said, “By the way, the milk is for you.”
My gaze snapped to his. “Excuse me?”
“You need the vitamins.”
“What if I don’t like milk?” I countered.
Rev ran a palm down his face in exasperation. “What if I don’t care whether you like it?”
Rev leaned his elbows on the table and shot me a no-nonsense look. “I’m not trying to control you. I’m merely showing concern for your health. You ate like a bird in the hospital, so you’re already at a nutritional deficit. I couldn’t say for sure, but I would imagine you didn’t eat well while you were with Mendoza—”
“Actually, I had all the best food available there since I ate my meals with him.” It was the truth. Whereas the girls in the barracks got the bare minimum. Mendoza was too smart to starve them because if they lost too much weight and looked unhealthy, they lost their attractiveness to potential buyers. As for me, I sat up in the main house eating lobster and steak simply because I was Mendoza’s favorite of the moment.
Rev held up one of his hands. “I stand corrected. However, with the blood you lost, coupled with your surgery, you’re going to have to fight off anemia. After you drink your milk, I would suggest you order a steak, along with some green leafy vegetables like a salad or some spinach.”
“Now you’re my nutritionist along with my rescuer?” I snapped.
“Annabel,” Rev said softly but with conviction.
I sighed. “I’m sorry. You’re just trying to be nice, and here I am taking out some shit on you, aren’t I?”
“I can understand why.”
“You can?”
He nodded. “For the last two months of your life, you were completely under someone else’s authority. It’s only natural now that you’re free that you would fight against anyone trying to exert any control over you.”
I blinked at him a few times before I could calm my emotions enough to respond. In the few days I had known him, it never ceased to amaze me how it was possible that Rev could read me so easily. None of my family or even my close friends had ever had such insight.
The waitress returned with our drinks. When she set the milk down in front of Rev, I reached out and slid it over to me. I was rewarded with a genuine smile from him.
“Know whatcha want?”
When he saw I was still uncertain, Rev went ahead with his order. “I’ll have the sirloin, well done, a loaded baked potato, and a salad with Italian dressing.”
The waitress turned to me. “And you?”
“The same. Except can you make mine a sweet potato?”
“Sure can.”
“Thanks.” When I caught Rev’s eye, I said, “They’re full of potassium, which I’m sure I could use.”
He grinned. “I’m glad you’re taking this more seriously.”
Once the waitress left, I began slowly sipping on my milk. I’d never been a big fan of milk outside of a bowl of sugary cereal, but I wanted to do everything I could to help my recovery.
We sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the hum of the conversations around us. Before I met Rev I had always rushed to fill silences with small talk. But there was something about being around him that made silence somehow more tolerable . . . more comforting.
After finishing off my milk, I asked, “So what happens when we get back to Georgia?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t thought it out that far. I assumed we could play it by ear, but most of all, I thought I would let you call the shots.”
My mouth gaped open in surprise. “Me?”
He nodded. “When it comes to you, I would assume you want to be making the decisions, right?”
“Well, yes, but at the same time, I’ll be your guest . . . or the club’s guest, or however it is. I would respect that.”
Rev appeared thoughtful. “My house is directly behind the club, so I guess you could say the two go hand in hand. But you are my guest, and my brothers will respect that.”
“I just don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“You won’t be. I’ll put you to work earning your keep.”
I laughed. “Oh, you will, huh?”
Rev grinned. “You said yourself that you didn’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“I can cook for you.”
“You cook?” Rev asked, his voice laced with doubt.
“Yes, I do.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just you didn’t strike me as the type who could cook.”
“One of the few decent people in our household was our cook. I hung out with her a lot. You pick up things.”
“I see.” Rev rubbed his hand over his beard. “So you’re willing to cook for me.”
“Of course.”
“That’s going to upset my mama.”
“How come?”
He laughed. “She usually cooks for us.”
“Oh, well, I could help her, then.”
“Actually, I like the idea of having you in my house, cooking just for me.”
“Do you now?”
With a wink and a grin, he replied, “Yes, I do.”
“Are you flirting with me, Reverend Malloy?” I couldn’t resist teasing him, and it felt good to let myself relax a little.
“Just stating facts, Annabel Percy,” he replied.
Just then our waitress appeared with our salads. At the sight of the overflowing plate, my stomach growled loudly enough for Rev to hear, which caused him to chuckle.
Once we were alone again, I was suddenly overwhelmed when I realized I had just accused him of flirting. After everything I had gone through, how could I possibly think of teasing a man about flirting? Least of all Rev. Not only did it go against the bond of friendship we had established, but it was probably insulting to a man like him. Considering how good-looking he was, never mind what a sweet side he hid, I was sure he had a constant string of women interested in him, whether he reciprocated the attention or not. He certainly didn’t need a physical and emotional mess like me.
“What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I lied as I shoved a large bite of salad into my mouth.
Rev’s fork stilled on his plate. “Something was bothering you. Your whole expression just darkened, not to mention your brows are all tense.”
I swallowed hard. After taking a sip of Coke, I finally looked at him. “I was just wondering what was wrong with me for even mentioning flirting.”
“What was so wrong with that? You were just teasing me.”
I pushed some of the salad around on my plate. “I have these thoughts about the things I shouldn’t say and do after what I experienced in captivity. What I’ve been through. Things that could be misconstrued as inappropriate and wrong. Maybe they’re crazy, maybe they’re not.”
Rev chewed thoughtfully for a moment before he spoke. “Annabel, there isn’t a handbook for people like us. They don’t make the ‘Dos and Don’ts after You’ve Been a Sex Slave’ manual.”
Just the mention of the term “sex slave” caused me to shudder in revulsion. But it was the truth—it was who I was now. A former sex slave. After living through that, I certainly couldn’t be squeamish about it now. It didn’t have to define who I was, but there was no denying it was a part of me. Somehow that title was also dictating to me how I should feel and act, which in the end felt like another form of enslavement. That would be the prime reason why a man like Rev would not be flirting with the likes of me.
While I was lost in my thoughts, Rev reached across the table for my hand. He squeezed it, and that jostled me out of my musings. “You have to do what is best for you, what makes you happy. You can’t worry whether it’s what someone else in your shoes would do. You are your own person, and you hold the keys to your healing.”
Although his words made perfect sense, it was hard to believe them. “I guess you’re right.”
“Are you afraid someone is going to judge you?”
I nodded as tears filled my eyes. “Like someone would think I was sick and disgusting for even being able to have those kinds of thoughts after what happened to me.”
“I don’t think anyone would expect you to be a nun for the rest of your lif
e simply because you were raped.”
“But to be joking with you like that so soon? Doesn’t that mean there’s something wrong with me? I should find men repulsive and the thought of sex revolting.”
Rev shook his head. “It just means the old you is slowly finding its way back to the new you. Even if the two never totally merge again, you can’t be so hard on yourself. We can’t help how we feel.”
“I guess you’re right,” I repeated.
“Take death, for example. Everyone grieves differently. Just because someone isn’t weeping uncontrollably, it doesn’t mean they loved the deceased less than someone who is crying and screaming. We all handle emotions differently. Just like you can’t tell someone the right way or wrong way to grieve, you can’t tell them how to handle life after sexual abuse.”
I tried to digest Rev’s words. They seemed so easy to accept, so logical, when they were coming from him. But in my warped frame of mind, I could say the same thing he had and still not believe it. I had hope that one day I would be okay with how I felt, but for now, I knew I had a long, long way to go.
After our waitress brought us our plates, Rev asked, “Are you okay now?” Even though I wasn’t, I nodded. “You don’t have to lie to me, Annabel.”
With a sigh, I picked up my knife and fork and began cutting into my steak. “Fine. I’m not okay. Because I know that even if I stop worrying about it right now, it’s going to come up again.”
“When it does, just push it away.”
“Easier said than done.”
“I know it is because I’ve been there before myself.”
“Really?”
He fidgeted in his seat. “Yeah, I have.”
“So how did you handle it?”
Rev groaned. “Why do you have to have an example? Can’t you just trust me on this one?”
I shrugged. “I guess I just have to have concrete examples. Call it the scientist in me.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not sure this one will help,” Rev muttered. He momentarily closed his eyes like he was trying to gather his strength. “Okay, fine. Here it is. I thought I was completely sick and twisted whenever I got erections after my attack. I turned twelve a few months later and was a preteen boy who couldn’t help what his body was doing. But in my head, I thought it was me being perverted and wanting something I shouldn’t.”
