I took my time in the bathroom, lotioning and perfuming and slapping on enough makeup that I resembled the whore he thought I was. Piling my long dark hair up on top of my head, I gave myself a quick once-over in the mirror and looked at my watch, making sure I was giving him enough time to pass out.
I was terrified the first time Aston told me what else he required of me. As if being subjected to his torture wasn’t enough, I would be pimped out to select men he’d chosen, friends he owed special favors, or politicians he wanted to ensure were under his thumb.
Now, though? It no longer struck fear into my heart. I had accepted my fate. All of this was what I had to do.
I wasn’t kept chained up or restrained in any way, although I was sure Aston was having me watched. Occasionally I’d see men behind me, tailing me when I went to the store. Or I’d see a SUV with tinted windows sitting outside my apartment. The apartment Aston had purchased.
I was at his beck and call. When he summoned me, had me picked up by one of his men, I came.
When he ordered me to sleep with one of his clients, I did.
I did whatever he asked, the man who had struck fear into my heart when I was at the finishing school in Bangkok. He was eighteen back then, an adult, and I was a child. Not so much older than me, though, not an old man like many of the others.
But more dangerous. He was the son of the man in charge of everything, the man who owned us. His father trafficked us, sold us to men who wanted child brides.
But before that was everything else, all of the horror that happened at the finishing school. And Aston had been there for all of it, had grown up steeped in it.
It made him worse. It made him a monster, even back then.
He had only grown more so with time, determined to outdo his father in every respect.
Back then, he had been obsessed with my sister and I.
I thought I had escaped his grasp, when I was sold and sent to Las Vegas, given to an old man who made me his bride. But when the old man died, Aston came calling.
I thought I could hide, thought I could get away, that the money the old man had left me would be enough. I’d held out hope. Until Aston took away everything, crushed the small bit of hope I had left, and made me his own.
It was a cruel twist of fate, that the only thing I had to live for anymore was the one thing that kept me tied to Aston. It was the thing that ensured I would do whatever Aston asked, for as long as he asked.
You see, my son’s life was in Aston’s hands.
“I’m okay, daddy,” MacKenzie said, yanking away from me. “Stop!” She wiped her cheek, as if she could brush off my kiss, and looked around. “I’m a big girl.”
Shit, she knew how to get me right in the heart.
“Ok, remember that grandma is going to be there when you get off the plane,” I said. “The flight attendant will take you to meet her. You have to stay with her, okay?”
“Dad, I know,” she said, her voice already like that of a teenager, exasperated. It was like she’d aged ten years overnight. Christ, I was going to stand here, getting choked up if I wasn’t careful.
When she gave me a hug and walked off to board the plane like she wasn’t even the least bit scared, like she wasn't the least bit sorry to leave me, I felt gutted inside.
I wondered if I would ever not feel broken.
I hoped this would save her. I hoped that this act of desperation, sending my child back to Puerto Rico to stay with her grandmother, would be enough to bring the light back to her eyes.
I hoped it wouldn't destroy me.
I inhaled deeply as I drove up to the Inferno Motorcycle clubhouse. The prospect at the guardhouse eyed me skeptically.
“Blaze is expecting me,” I said.
The prospect nodded, his eyes never leaving me. “Stay put. Don’t move.”
I put my head back against the headrest, and waited while he called Blaze to verify my claim.
Then he waved me forward. “Go ahead, sir.”
Fucking prospects.
I was irritated by having my identity verified, although I don't know what the hell else I expected. Did I think the prospect would recognize me or something? I was an outsider now.
I looked at the building, bikes lined up in the parking lot outside, the same as they always had been, back when I belonged here. Two brothers stood out front, bearded and scruffy, wearing jeans and leathers, smoking and shooting the shit. I had a pang of...jealousy? No, not jealousy. I didn’t want to be a part of this place anymore. Nostalgia, maybe. For what had been before.
Back when my wife was alive.
Back when everything was the way it should be.
I opened the car door and stepped out, feeling awkward in jeans and a t-shirt, suddenly reminded of what I used to wear. The emblem of brotherhood.
Some fucking brotherhood, after what had happened with Mad Dog. After what he had done to April.
Blaze walked outside, a grin on his face. “Good to see you, man,” he said, clapping my shoulder. “It’s been way too fucking long.”
Whatever my misgivings were about being back here, I couldn’t help but be glad to see him. Blaze used to be a friend. He still would be if I were around here any more. If I were part of the club. “You too, Blaze. How are things going?”