Ruined by Sin (Steel Souls MC #2)

1. Faith

one

Faith

“ T wo thousand dollars and the girl is yours.” I suppress a gasp at my father’s words and press my ear to the paper-thin walls to catch the rest of his phone call. “Yeah, it’s about all she’s good for. She’s a whore, just like her mother.”

My mother ran off with some guy when I was only five years old.

I was forced to take over her role, cooking and cleaning for my father.

The only reason I was allowed to continue attending school and ultimately graduate from high school was that I had already started kindergarten by the time she left us.

Three years ago, after I graduated, we moved into this trailer park. My father has kept me locked in the trailer, with no contact with the outside world. My only role in life is as his unpaid maid. As far as I know, no one in the trailer park even knows I exist—selling me would be easy.

Life with my father hasn’t been easy. He preaches daily that a mother’s sins will be repeated by her daughter, telling me that my body was formed by the devil and that my life will one day be ruined by sin. I never imagined he would sell his own flesh and blood.

“I’ll make sure she’s ready for the exchange in thirty minutes.” The conversation ends with a grunt.

Hearing my father call me a whore and making a deal to sell me to some stranger gives me the courage I need to finally escape this hell on Earth he’s created for me. I’ve never kissed a guy or even been on a date, so how could he call me such a hateful name?

My hands shake as I reach under my bed and pull out my old backpack, filled with the few clothes I own and the hundred dollars one of my teachers gave me for graduation.

It’s all the money I have. I’ve kept it hidden from my father for three years.

Hopefully, it will get me far enough away to start a new life.

Senor Fallon was my favorite teacher, just as Spanish was my favorite subject.

Learning a foreign language felt like an escape from the real world.

One day, I want to visit the Mayan ruins of the Yucatan Peninsula that Senor Fallon told us about.

But my ultimate dream is to be a high school Spanish teacher, just like Senor Fallon.

I push the old window screen, and it pops out instantly.

I set it against the wall, throw my backpack through the opening, then climb out after it, clinging to the windowsill until the last second before dropping to the soft ground below.

I grab my backpack and crouch next to the trailer, waiting for my father to hear and rush out to punish me. But nothing stirs inside the trailer.

The roar of motorcycles echoes through the air, and I worry I’ve waited too long for my escape.

My father might not let me out of the house, but I’ve spent many lonely nights looking out my window, not to have noticed all the motorcycles that drive through the trailer park at all hours of the day and night.

I’ve noticed the club name on their patches through a pair of my father’s old binoculars—The Sons of Decimation.

All of them look like criminals, except for one—he looks out of place.

But looks can be deceiving. I don’t have time to worry about him now.

Escape is the only thing on my mind, and the fact that the hundred dollars I have won’t get me far.

The sun is beginning to set—The thought of hitchhiking after dark doesn’t appeal to me, but it might be my only option if I don’t hurry.

Looking back at the trailer that was my prison for the past three years, and knowing that my father, who was supposed to love and protect me, was planning to sell me for God only knows what reason, I feel nothing.

No loss of my old life. No hope that my mother would return and take me away from this place. No love for a man who never loved me.

Hitching my backpack over both shoulders, I take off running toward the nearest tree when I notice an increase in the number of motorcycles in the trailer park and a black SUV that is way too new to belong to anyone living in this rundown place.

Something big must be going down—all of these bikers can’t be here for only me.

If only there were a way to notify the police, but with no phone and not knowing anyone in the trailer park, there’s nothing I can do. Saving myself is my first priority.

A loud commotion from one of the trailers has me jumping up and running across the gravel to the highway, just as a man on a bike pulls up next to me.

“Get on.” He holds a hand out toward me.

My first instinct is to hit him with my backpack and run.

But something about his rakish smile has me rethinking my plan.

Until I remember evil comes in all shapes and sizes.

“No.” I shake my head and step to the side to run by him, but he inches his bike forward, blocking my path.

“Phantom sent me.” He says that name like it should mean something to me.

I bite my lip, trying to decide whether to take my chances with just one biker and ride on the back of his bike or risk being put in that black SUV, or worse, a utility van. I could always jump off the bike at a stoplight or pretend to need to stop at a gas station to use the bathroom.

Sealing my fate, I reach for his hand, notice his patch reads Steel Souls, not The Sons of Decimation, and climb onto the back of his bike.

“I’ve never been on the back of a motorcycle before.

” I wrap my arms around his waist as I’ve seen the girls do in some of the movies I watch when my father isn’t home.

“Good girl.” He places his large hand over mine, gives it a gentle squeeze, then lets go. “Make sure to hang on tight and lean when I lean.” His voice is deep and husky, almost sinful, making my heart flutter.

I mentally kick myself for falling for his sexy voice and rakish smile.

I’ve read about people being kidnapped and falling in love with their kidnapper—I just need to keep these feelings in check until we reach a gas station.

But it won’t hurt to rest my head for a few minutes to save my energy for the rest of my escape plan.

With a sigh, I rest my head against his back, feeling the heat of him between my thighs.

I try to scoot back, but he grabs my leg and pulls me closer to him, my denim cutoff shorts dampen with my lust as my covered pussy rubs against his back.

He places his hand back on the handlebars, and I miss having his hand on my bare leg.

Snap out of it, Faith. You cannot fall for a guy you don’t even know who might or might not want to sell you.

Then why do I feel so safe holding on to him?