Chapter 13
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN
NOVA
We spend copious amounts of time in each room as they take things in and absorb them.
The wonder in their eyes as they take in the furniture and pictures on my walls have me tightening my fists into balls.
This shouldn’t be a whimsical experience for them.
I didn’t take stock of the walls surrounding them at that piece of shit’s house long enough to notice they didn’t have a single thing hanging on them.
There were no proud fatherly moments plastered for visitors to reminisce on.
There were no photographs of the girls as they aged, no paintings or growth chart marks on the paneling.
If I hadn’t found them in their prison, nobody would’ve ever known they existed.
That thought makes me sick to my stomach, knowing that he left them there while he went to dispose his latest victim, not knowing if he’d ever make it back to them or not.
Once we make it to the room I had in mind for them, I step out and let them roam so I can make a call to my president, Riptide.
Christmas is around the corner and I want to give them a good one because I doubt they’ve ever seen a real tree or had a present underneath it that’s been gift wrapped with their name on the tag.
It only rings four times before he answers. “Nova. How’d it go?”
“It was an unexpected experience,” I state before going into further details, letting my frustrations out.
When I finish telling him about my discoveries, I get into the facts surrounding the ladies.
“Rip, these girls don’t have names and there are no birth records of their existence.
They were living in squalor. They pissed and shit in a bucket and the motherfucker had jail bars put in the basement where he kept them for their entire damn lives. ”
“And they’re staying with you?” he asks, surprise laced in his voice.
“Marsten asked for me to watch over them. My place is their safe house,” I inform him.
“Interesting,” he murmurs. “Did he not have someplace he trusts for them to go, or did you volunteer to take them in?”
“It was his idea,” I admit. “But that’s because he’s starting to have doubts about his team and the ones assigned to him.” Then I go into telling him how Marlon fucking Jennings got away when he should’ve been easily captured.
“That’s fishy,” he sighs before offering, “I’ll get with Booker and see if he can catch anything amiss on that computer of his. If anyone can follow his trail and see how he managed to get away, it’d be him.”
“Booker was my next call, but if you can take care of that for me, I’d appreciate it, pres. There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about, though.”
“What’s that, Nova?” he inquires.
“How do you think the club would feel about adopting the girls for Christmas, Rip? They’ve never had one before and everything they have is tattered and torn. They need everything from clothes, to personal hygiene products, to books and electronics.”
“Books? Are you telling me that even with them living a life of poverty and enslavement, they know how to read? That’s admirable, Nova.”
“They taught themselves to read and write by watching television and devouring the encyclopedia, dictionary, and thesaurus as well as any educational books their father brought them from the consignment shop. They’re smart but naive at the same time.”
“Send me a list of their sizes, requirements, and wants,” Rip orders.
“It’d be a shorter list if I sent you what they have,” I harrumph. “I’m going to order a tree from the farm, put my name on the lists for Ma Grady’s Christmas dinner, and cheer up my house for the holidays.”
“You sound enthusiastic about that,” Rip chuckles.
“It’s not my thing, Rip, but I’m damn determined to give them a great first Christmas.”
“We’ll help. I’ll enlist some men to come and put strings of lights on the outside of your house. We’ll light that shit up like it’s the fourth of July.”
“You’re enjoying my misery a little too much, Rip,” I grumble.
“Stop pouting, Nova. Badass bikers don’t do that shit,” he chuckles.
“What the fuck ever,” I gnarl. “I don’t pout, I ruminate and I don’t always like what I see in my head. Sue me.”
“Now who’s full of shit?” he counters. “And there’s not enough money in your account to pay me my penance owed for dealing with your grouchy ass.
Send me that list, Nova, and stop your whining.
Come up with names for the girls so we can get Booker to create an identity for them.
Do we even know their birthdays or how old they are? ”
“Not a clue, and from what I’ve gathered, they don’t either,” I convey.
“That’s goddamn sad,” Rip mumbles. “I can’t even imagine how they’re feeling after discovering the things they have in regard to their father and themselves.”
“They’re taking it in stride. These girls are survivors, Rip. They’re going to be okay,” I predict.
“They’d have to be, Nova. Now, before I let you go, do you want me to put a man on your house?”
“Naw, I’ll set my alarms and my system is good. Nobody will be able to get past my driveway without them sounding off,” I tell him.
“Alright. I’m going to start volunteering some brothers for decoration and shopping detail. They’re gonna be thrilled. I can’t wait. Talk to you later, Nova.”
“Later, pres,” I say, hanging up, my lips quirking in a smile. Tucking my phone back into my pocket, I head out to my truck and gather the girls’ belongings and my evidence.
The girls must smell the aroma of the meat on the grill because shortly after I toss the steaks on, they come ambling outdoors.
“Sorry it took us so long to join you, we fell asleep,” Two says, apologizing.
“No sorries needed, Two. Y’all have been through an ordeal today.
Have a seat and I’ll grab y’all something to drink.
We have a few things we need to discuss while the food is cooking,” I state, putting my tongs down and heading toward the cooler.
I open the lid and dig through the ice, realizing I have no clue what they like and what they don’t.
“I have Coke, Dr. Pepper, water, and beer, what’s your preference? ”
“The only thing I’ve ever had on that list is water. What’s good?” One asks.
I emit a sigh because that’s not something I considered when I posed that question. Who goes their entire life without trying a soda? I check off another thing on the list I’m compiling toward their father of reasons why he needs an old fashioned ass beating.
Coming up with what I consider as being a brilliant idea, I propose, “How about I give you each a cold drink and y’all share? You can let me know which you like and which you don’t. Will that work?”
“Sure,” they simultaneously agree.
I set two cans on the table and a bottle of beer.
I show them how to pull the tabs and pop the top of the beer.
They each take a small sip and I hold my stomach to hold in the laughter when Two crinkles her nose after trying the beer, pushing it away and toward her sister.
One tries it and licks her lips. That’s one outta two I can share one of my favorite brews with.
I slide the Coke and Dr. Pepper in front of Two.
I watch with rapture as she tests them with small samples.
“I like this one the best,” she tells me, pointing to the Dr. Pepper can before shifting her finger toward the Coke.
“But this one’s alright too.” One drags the beer bottle closer to her and starts taking shallow drinks.
I nod my head and head back to the grill so I can flip the steaks, giving them a moment to enjoy trying something new.
“I ordered a book of names from the bookstore in town. In order for me to get you a birth certificate, we need to choose a first, middle, and last name for y’all as well as come up with birthdays. Would you like to read through it now or wait until after we eat?”
“Now please,” Two says, her eyes alight with excitement.
“I’ll go grab that while y’all relax.”