“Vi’s just put another fuckin’ swear jar on the bar.”
Prez’s old lady hears me and comes over with a big grin on her face. “When Theo’s around, you watch your mouths. We’ll have another one soon when Mel and Pyro’s kid’s born.”
“Got to bring this up in church,” Liz mumbles. “This is a fuckin’ biker clubhouse, not a kindergarten.” His fingers press into his temples again.
“I can’t tell the difference sometimes.” Vi laughs, then she frowns. “You sure you’re okay, Liz?”
“Hunky dory.” Lizard opens his eyes and winks. Looks like that Advil might be kicking in. He’s certainly got a little more colour.
At that moment, the clubhouse door opens, and in walks Shayla. She’d been staying out of the way at Mo’s. Jayden’s with her.
Shayla’s critical eyes scan the room, clearly noticing Esme’s missing. I walk over to her and as soon as I’m close, she asks anxiously, “Everything go okay here?”
I notice the sadness in her face. “You’re going to miss her, aren’t you?”
“I am,” she confirms. “I thought I’d be relieved, you know? But I’ve been looking out for her all these months, and it feels a bit like I’ve lost a limb. She’s such a sweet kid, Mace.”
“Her parents love her.” Vi has appeared, overheard, and tries to put Shayla’s mind at ease. “Esme ran straight to them with no hesitation. It destroyed her dad to learn what happened to her.”
I’m glad to hear it went down well, not having been here myself. “I’m sure they’ll get her the help she needs. Time for you to think about you, now, Shayla, and what you want. Time for you to heal.” I give Vi a nod of thanks that she’d updated us, but signal with my eyes that I’ll take it from here.
I lead Shayla to a free couch and hold up two fingers to Dirt. Almost before we’ve got our asses on the seat, two beers appear in front of us. Picking up one of the bottles, she takes a long swallow.
“Needed that.” She wipes the back of her hand over her mouth. “This afternoon, with Mo, was… interesting.”
I chuckle. I expect it was. Mo’s quite a force to be reckoned with. She’s Hellfire’s wife, and when he was the prez, was the club’s first lady, even if she steered clear of the clubhouse most of the time. Of course, her history isn’t pretty. She was raped by Blackie, the prez before Hellfire, and Hellfire killed the man who was his father. While it’s never been confirmed, rather than Hell being Demon’s dad, we suspect he’s his brother. But who needs to know the true fucking family lines? Blood, as I’d told Cas, counts for nothing. Hellfire had raised Demon like a son, whatever the truth of the matter. Still, Mo had never completely gotten over her unease with the club.
That thought makes me wonder whether Shayla will ever recover.
“You talk to Mo?” I wonder if it might have helped if she had, though part of me worries. You can never tell which way Mo’s going to jump. “Mo’s been through some bad shit herself.”
Shayla’s head tilts. “No, she didn’t say anything, and I didn’t offer. She was pleasant enough but didn’t seem receptive to confidences.”
It could have been a missed chance. “I still think you should speak to someone.”
Shayla understands what I’m saying. “I don’t know, Mace. I don’t see myself talking to a therapist, or not yet. I’ve been so focused on running, on keeping Esme out of Major’s hands, that I haven’t really thought about myself, apart from getting rid of this fucking tattoo, of course. Talking means dredging everything up again. I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”
“You will, babe. You will. You’ll move on.”
She shakes her head. Her disbelief is the reason I think seeing a therapist will work. She’ll only exist, not thrive, when she distrusts all men. As I watch her drink her beer again, her throat working so gracefully as she swallows, I admit I’d like her to at least trust me. I also admit I have fantasies about her being in my bed but have no idea whether I’d ever be able to get her into it.
When she goes to lean forward and replace the empty bottle on the table, I help out by taking it from her. As our fingers accidentally touch, she jumps as though scalded, then looks sheepish.
“Babe, why don’t I look into making you an appointment?”
She frowns. “No point, Mace. Now that Esme’s gone, I was thinking of moving on.”
My brow creases. Now that she’s put it out there, I know I don’t want her to go, and not just because I don’t think it’s safe. I don’t want her leaving for selfish reasons. “Sort of getting used to you being around. Why don’t you stay? You’ve got to get the rest of your tat done for a start. You’re safe here. You’re not going to get any trouble from anyone, and Pyro’s offered you a job starting Monday.”
“The job sounded good when I had Esme to think of. Now I’m alone…” her voice trails off. “I don’t know what to do, Mace.”
“What were your plans, your dreams? Before you were taken?” Suddenly a thought hits me. “Did you have a man? Were you married?” If so, wouldn’t she have gone back to him? Asked for help at the least.
She blinks slowly. “I had a man. Well, I thought I had. When I escaped, I had no money. I managed to borrow a phone from someone at a shelter, and I called him. His voice… Hearing his voice made me hope everything would be alright. But I’d been gone a year, and he’d moved on. There was a woman talking in the background. I begged him for help, but he didn’t believe my story. Said it had hurt him too much when I’d walked out and not bothered to contact him. I tried to say it wasn’t my fault, but he refused to hear it. He’d assumed I’d left for another man. I told him I hadn’t, tried to explain...” Her face distorts with remembered pain. “He called me a whore. When I asked just for a bit of money to tide me over—a loan, not a gift—he told me to earn it on my back.”
“You want to give me his fuckin’ name?”
“Why?”
“So I can kill him for you.”
The fleeting grin breaking through her pain shows me she thinks I’m joking. I’m not.
She grows serious again. “His suggestion was not even an option. You know I can’t stand a man touching me. I can’t even stand a man being close. That time, when we first ran, and I needed a ride out of Vegas… I froze, I vomited after. I know I couldn’t do that again.”
I don’t point out we’re sitting opposite each other, so close our knees are no more than an inch apart. Leaned forward as we both are, our foreheads are all but touching. I can feel her exhaled breaths on my face. I don’t mention any of that.
“I’ve tried a new recipe.” Mel’s standing beside me, a plate in her hand. “Want to test it out?”
We both accept her offer of a delicious looking cupcake without further persuasion. Shayla takes a mouthful and groans as the flavour hits her taste buds. “Mmm. So good.”
“I’ve got another batch, I’ve just taken out of the oven.” Mel’s smiling broadly at Shayla’s obvious appreciation. “Want to be my tester?”