Chapter Thirty-Seven
Haizley
Listening to Amber share how she killed her father after years of sexual assault, I expected to feel something other than what went through me. I expected to feel disgust at her premeditation in taking a life. Condemnation at her lack of remorse. And judgment for her disregard for the life of another human.
I felt none of those things.
What I did feel was admiration at the strength it required to take her life back by any means necessary. I wanted to applaud the courage it took to put herself in a position of being abused again in order to finally put an end to it. Most of all, I accepted that life wasn’t black and white.
We lived in the gray areas. There was right and there was wrong, but in the gray area lay the power to right a wrong. Sometimes that included doing the wrong thing.
“How did you feel after?”
Amber blinked a few times, like she was returning to the room we sat in together.
“I want to say I felt guilt. I want to say that I regretted what I did. The truth is, all I felt was relief. Never again would I be at his mercy.”
“What did you do next?”
“I took a shower.” She laughed. “I cleaned myself up and then I searched the house. I needed money, and I knew he didn’t keep it all in the bank. There was nothing of any value to hock, so I dug through his wallet, his drawers, the kitchen cabinets. Anywhere I could think of, to walk away with a start.”
“How much did you find?”
She took a deep breath. “Not enough.”
For the next hour and a half, Amber shared every detail about what happened after she left her father’s house. She told me about the man who took her off the streets, only to pimp her out to his friends.
She shared about the man who bought her with flowery words of freedom, only to lock her underground until she was rescued by a motorcycle club.
She told me about a nurse in the hospital in Louisiana, who told her she couldn’t trust the club that rescued her. And the woman who arrived in her room and whisked her away. A woman named Valhalla, who had spent her life helping abused women and children.
And she told me about a man named Danny, who helped her change her identity to Amber Marks. A man she only ever spoke to on the phone until just a few months ago, sparking the memory of the warnings the nurse gave her, when she realized he was part of the club she had been told would only hurt her more.
Her nightmares had been borne out of fear of being discovered. She shared that, within days of Danny leaving, other men showed up, including one she recognized from that same club.
We discussed her conflicted feelings about what the nurse had told her and what she had experienced. She shared about the man who sat in her cell with her. How he spoke with her quietly, never moving closer until he handed her a patch and explained that it was like a get out of jail free card. She remembered it was the first time she had felt any levity in years. Considering they were sitting in a literal cell when he said it.
“He didn’t talk to me like I was a victim. He acted like he wanted to be my friend. I hadn’t had a friend since I was a kid. So, when he offered to carry me out, I let him. He held me in his arms, and I felt safe for the first time in over ten years. Like he would give his life to protect me.”
“Do you feel differently now?”
“No. I think that’s why I’m struggling. The stories the nurse told me made them sound like every other man in my life who’d offered me something only to snatch it away and make me a prisoner. But those stories don’t match the man who carried me out of that cell. They don’t match the man who showed up at the clubhouse to protect his best friend’s children. And they don’t match the man who helped me become the person I am today.”
“Is it possible the nurse projected her own trauma onto you?”
“Don’t they teach them how not to do that?”
“They do, but sometimes our trauma is embedded so deep that if we don’t get help, it can overtake us, and we strike out in fear. I would be willing to bet whatever trauma she carried caused her to reach out to save you. While her actions may have been in haste, her ultimate motivation was to protect you. Remember, we are all human. And humans make mistakes.”
“That makes sense.”
“Can I ask what made you decide to become a part of the Silver Shadows here?”
Amber smiled as she looked out the window again. Following her gaze, I spotted Gunner leaning against his bike, smoking a cigarette and scrolling through his phone. I needed to talk to him about his smoking. While he looked sexy doing it, it wasn’t healthy.
The prospect that had brought Amber here at my behest, sat against his bike as well, only he was alert. He continued to look around to ensure our safety.
“I had been moving around, looking for a place to call home. I needed something that was mine. Something that I chose for myself. For my whole life, other people had made decisions for me. Even Valhalla. While what she does is incredible, she’s bossy.”
“Bossy how?”
“When Danny contacted me, he gave me a list of instructions and said they were from Valhalla. Things like what hair color and eye color I should have. How I should dress. What hobbies I could develop and which ones to stay away from. I never had a mom, but I imagine Valhalla would have been a strict one. She had Danny set me up in Chicago.”
“Did you like Chicago?”
“I did. I could hide. There were so many people there and no one noticed me. I felt invisible.”
“Until?”
“Until I saw him.”
Amber’s eyes glazed over again, and I knew she was back in her memories. She stared into nothing as she told me about the day she decided to take her life back for the second time.
“I had a job. I worked in a little coffee shop in the heart of downtown. I didn’t need to work. Danny had set me up with a bank account. Told me it was money that had been raised to help survivors. Something else from Valhalla and the women she worked with. But I wanted to do something, and the coffee shop was fun. I could talk to people without fear. It was probably the thing that healed me. It gave me the courage to be a part of life again.”
“Until?”
“Until he walked in. I had been in Chicago working in that little shop for months. I met people from all walks of life. Teenagers with crazy hairstyles; housewives in designer track outfits. Construction workers who flirted.” She snorted. “That took some getting used to. I had never had anyone flirt with me before. My co-workers had to explain it to me.”
“Boys in school didn’t flirt with you?”
She lost her smile, and I wanted to kick myself. “No.”
“Tell me about the others that came into the shop? Chicago is a pretty wealthy area.”
“It is. Lots of men in suits. And they knew how to wear them. You know Chicago is home to the Mafia, right?”
“The Mafia? Like the Mob? I thought those were gone in the late 90s?”
“Nope. Chicago has the Italian Mafia. The Valentinetti family. Five boys and one girl. She was always in the news. She was so beautiful. I imagine she had trouble getting dates though.”
“Why?”
“Because those five boys? They were all older than her. I imagine it would be hard for a girl with five older brothers who wouldn’t let anyone near their baby sister.”
Amber was stalling. It was a common tactic when someone didn’t want to talk about a particular event.
“Did you meet any of them?”
“Only once. I left right after.”
“Why?”
She fidgeted in her seat. Wringing her hands together as we got to the heart of what happened that had frightened her enough to make her leave a life she was building.
“He was with them.”
“Who was with them, Amber?”
“The man from the cell.”
Her eyes watered and she lifted her face to the ceiling. Her breathing quickened, and I reached out to take her hand.
“Deep breaths, Amber. Inhale and hold it. Four... Three... Two... One. Now exhale slowly. We can stop here if you need to,” I offered.
Though just as I thought, she didn’t want to stop. She wanted to forge through. Amber confessed she had never told anyone what had happened. She never told Danny she left Chicago, let alone why. She wanted to get through this, so I would sit here as long as she needed me to.
“I was behind the counter, taking orders, and four men walked in. My co-worker told me after that only two of them were Valentinettis. The other two were cousins who had disappeared years before, and only recently had returned to Chicago. She said there were rumors and stories, but no one really knew what had happened or why they were back.”
“And you recognized one of them?”
“One of the cousins. They called him Dwayne. That wasn’t the name he gave that day in the cell, and he looked different. He was in a suit instead of faded jeans, and he’d shaved. He had a beard when I met him. But there was no mistaking it was him. When they walked up to the counter, I froze. His eyes bore into mine like he recognized me but he couldn’t place from where.”
“What did you do?”
“I ran. I turned away and ran to the back room. I begged the other girl to take their orders. I could hear them teasing him. Saying things like ‘Dwayne chases all the girls away’ and ‘There’s that Buchannon charm.’
“What did he say?”
“Nothing. I peeked around the corner, and he was staring directly at me. When they finally left, my co-worker told me who they were. It didn’t matter what she said about him. I knew it was him. So, I left. I went home, packed a bag, and left Chicago.”
“Where did you go?”
“I just drove west until I found this place. It was so small. Barely even a dot on the map. Then the MC moved in and had a party. I went intending to get shit faced and let whatever happened happen. I knew I was taking a risk. I saw the 1% patch and knew what it meant. I was ready to leave this earth. My plan was to get drunk and come on to the scariest man there. I wanted to pick a fight. I knew how MCs treated women. I figured it wouldn’t take much for one of them to kill me.”
“Only that didn’t happen.”
“No, that didn’t happen. I found the one freaking club that had respect for women,” she scoffed. “They monitored the alcohol, making sure none of the women overdid it. And if they did, they called the sheriff to get her home. The sheriff? Can you believe it? Of course, I didn’t know at the time the sheriff was the president’s brother.”
“What made you stay?”
“I made a choice to have sex that night. For the first time in my life, I had sex because I wanted to. And I enjoyed it. Boy, did I enjoy it. They said they were looking for a few women who might want to live at the clubhouse. Food and board were included. And if we wanted to help keep the clubhouse clean, they would pay us a salary. They made it clear that sex was not a requirement but expected. We could say no. We could choose who we wanted to be with. I figured, why the hell not? I had been trained half my life on how to please a man. And if the others were as good as the first guy, I would benefit from it too. So, I set my boundaries, and so far, every man there has respected them. I haven’t been with all of them. I only have sex with guys younger than me. No one older. And I have no footprint here. No way to track me. The car I use is in the club’s name. One member is a doctor, so there are no medical records to hack into, and they pay us in cash. I can hide here, or so I thought.”