Vomit rises in my throat. It’s a dream, a bad dream. I’ll wake up soon.
“There’s full security on my land, so don’t think about running. You will be chained to a partner, so the action of one will result in the punishment of the person with you. Consider that before trying to escape me. You will be fed once a day, and only if you’ve completed your full day’s work. This is your accommodation.” He waves his hand at the room. “You will shower here, and once a week your clothes and bedding will be washed and returned to you.”
This is a nightmare. It has to be.
“Now, don’t bother to argue because there is no way out. You will be released only when you’ve repaid the debt owed to me. That can take years, even decades, so get comfortable. This is your life now.”
With that, he turns and walks out.
An older man from the back of the room leaps up and runs towards the door, but it’s already been slammed and locked. He pummels his fists against the wood, screaming over and over, but there’s no point. There is no way out. A silent tear slips down my cheek as a horrible reality sets in.
I’ll never be free.
My heart aches. Santana. God, help me, please.
~*~*~*~
NOW – Pippa
My tired feet drag me to my front door after a long night at work. I put my key in the lock but jump when a voice comes from the shadows. “I don’t want visitors tonight, but thanks.”
Tyke.
I turn and see him slowly emerge from my patio, arms crossed over his big chest. He’s limping slightly and I know it’s because his legs are sore, but he constantly insists on walking instead of being in his chair.
“Ah, Tyke, what are you doing here?” I whisper.
“What kind of message was that, Pip?”
Dammit. I did offend him with my message.
“I was just—”
“I don’t want visitors tonight, but thanks,” he repeats, stepping closer.
I look away, my cheeks warming. “I’m sorry. I was just tired.”
“That’s a lie.”
I flinch and he notices, because he takes my chin and turns my face towards his. His brown eyes search my face. “What happened, little one?”
“Nothing, Tyke. I’m honestly tired.”
“Since when did you start tellin’ me lies?”
I swallow, and I can’t help it—the events of the night catch up with me and big, angry tears rise forth and spill down my cheeks. Tyke’s eyes follow them, and his face goes hard. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, I just—”
“Darlin’,” he says gently. “What happened?”
I can’t tell him what happened. I’ve seen how the club reacts when one of their girls is upset, or hurt by someone else. If I tell Tyke about my boss, he’ll storm in there and probably beat him to a pulp. It’s the first and only job I’ve ever had; I can’t afford to lose it. So . . . I lie. I hate lying, but I don’t want things to spiral out of control.
“Tyke,” I say, so quietly my voice is barely there. “What’s daft?”
He flinches and his jaw goes so tight I can see the muscle bulging from his cheek. “What did you say?”
“I . . .”
“Did someone call you that?”
I look away.
“Who?” he demands, his voice like steel. “Who called you that, Pip?”
“It was a customer . . .”
I hate lying. I hate it. I hate it.
“Why would any customer call you that?” he questions.
I glance hesitantly at his face, and it’s still hard. “I dropped the serving tray. He got angry and called me daft.”
Tyke drops my chin. “Is he still there?” he asks, pulling out his phone.
Panic swells in my chest. “No, Tyke!”
“No one calls you daft, and no one makes you cry. Is. He. Still. There?”
He’s scaring me.
“No . . . he checked out. Tyke, please.”
His eyes flash and he looks over me again. “What sort of piece of shit ass calls a girl daft? Especially a girl like you.”
Tears burn once more.
“Probably because I am,” I whisper.
Tyke flinches and his eyes flood with pain. “Pippa,” he says, his voice thick. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ say something like that again.”
I drop my eyes to the floor, and his hand returns to my chin, tilting it back up. “Look at me, darlin’.”
I look at him.
“Don’t you ever let anyone make you feel like that. You’re not daft, you’re not stupid—you’re fucking amazing and beautiful, and so damned special anyone would be lucky to have you. Do you understand me?”
He thinks I’m beautiful?
God. He thinks I’m beautiful.
I nod, unable to do anything else.
“Good, baby. Now let’s go inside, because my legs are fucking killing me.”
Baby.
He called me baby.
And beautiful.
I’m stuck to the ground for a long moment, so long he has to call my name to gain my attention once more. I stumble forward and unlock the door, then I push it open and rush in. I have a decent sized two-bedroom apartment just up the street from Maddox’s house. The guys all pitched in and got it for me so I could have my own space. There was only so long I wanted to live with Santana and Maddox for. I didn’t want them to forever feel like they had to keep me at their house. They needed their space, too. Though they never said it.
“There’s full security on my land, so don’t think about running. You will be chained to a partner, so the action of one will result in the punishment of the person with you. Consider that before trying to escape me. You will be fed once a day, and only if you’ve completed your full day’s work. This is your accommodation.” He waves his hand at the room. “You will shower here, and once a week your clothes and bedding will be washed and returned to you.”
This is a nightmare. It has to be.
“Now, don’t bother to argue because there is no way out. You will be released only when you’ve repaid the debt owed to me. That can take years, even decades, so get comfortable. This is your life now.”
With that, he turns and walks out.
An older man from the back of the room leaps up and runs towards the door, but it’s already been slammed and locked. He pummels his fists against the wood, screaming over and over, but there’s no point. There is no way out. A silent tear slips down my cheek as a horrible reality sets in.
I’ll never be free.
My heart aches. Santana. God, help me, please.
~*~*~*~
NOW – Pippa
My tired feet drag me to my front door after a long night at work. I put my key in the lock but jump when a voice comes from the shadows. “I don’t want visitors tonight, but thanks.”
Tyke.
I turn and see him slowly emerge from my patio, arms crossed over his big chest. He’s limping slightly and I know it’s because his legs are sore, but he constantly insists on walking instead of being in his chair.
“Ah, Tyke, what are you doing here?” I whisper.
“What kind of message was that, Pip?”
Dammit. I did offend him with my message.
“I was just—”
“I don’t want visitors tonight, but thanks,” he repeats, stepping closer.
I look away, my cheeks warming. “I’m sorry. I was just tired.”
“That’s a lie.”
I flinch and he notices, because he takes my chin and turns my face towards his. His brown eyes search my face. “What happened, little one?”
“Nothing, Tyke. I’m honestly tired.”
“Since when did you start tellin’ me lies?”
I swallow, and I can’t help it—the events of the night catch up with me and big, angry tears rise forth and spill down my cheeks. Tyke’s eyes follow them, and his face goes hard. “What happened?”
“It’s nothing, I just—”
“Darlin’,” he says gently. “What happened?”
I can’t tell him what happened. I’ve seen how the club reacts when one of their girls is upset, or hurt by someone else. If I tell Tyke about my boss, he’ll storm in there and probably beat him to a pulp. It’s the first and only job I’ve ever had; I can’t afford to lose it. So . . . I lie. I hate lying, but I don’t want things to spiral out of control.
“Tyke,” I say, so quietly my voice is barely there. “What’s daft?”
He flinches and his jaw goes so tight I can see the muscle bulging from his cheek. “What did you say?”
“I . . .”
“Did someone call you that?”
I look away.
“Who?” he demands, his voice like steel. “Who called you that, Pip?”
“It was a customer . . .”
I hate lying. I hate it. I hate it.
“Why would any customer call you that?” he questions.
I glance hesitantly at his face, and it’s still hard. “I dropped the serving tray. He got angry and called me daft.”
Tyke drops my chin. “Is he still there?” he asks, pulling out his phone.
Panic swells in my chest. “No, Tyke!”
“No one calls you daft, and no one makes you cry. Is. He. Still. There?”
He’s scaring me.
“No . . . he checked out. Tyke, please.”
His eyes flash and he looks over me again. “What sort of piece of shit ass calls a girl daft? Especially a girl like you.”
Tears burn once more.
“Probably because I am,” I whisper.
Tyke flinches and his eyes flood with pain. “Pippa,” he says, his voice thick. “Don’t you ever fuckin’ say something like that again.”
I drop my eyes to the floor, and his hand returns to my chin, tilting it back up. “Look at me, darlin’.”
I look at him.
“Don’t you ever let anyone make you feel like that. You’re not daft, you’re not stupid—you’re fucking amazing and beautiful, and so damned special anyone would be lucky to have you. Do you understand me?”
He thinks I’m beautiful?
God. He thinks I’m beautiful.
I nod, unable to do anything else.
“Good, baby. Now let’s go inside, because my legs are fucking killing me.”
Baby.
He called me baby.
And beautiful.
I’m stuck to the ground for a long moment, so long he has to call my name to gain my attention once more. I stumble forward and unlock the door, then I push it open and rush in. I have a decent sized two-bedroom apartment just up the street from Maddox’s house. The guys all pitched in and got it for me so I could have my own space. There was only so long I wanted to live with Santana and Maddox for. I didn’t want them to forever feel like they had to keep me at their house. They needed their space, too. Though they never said it.
