Chapter 12
Chapter Twelve
Allora
The arrival of my new phone feels like Christmas.
Luna was nice enough to set it up for me, including getting everything off the cloud from my old phone, so I have my contacts and everything, even though it’s a new phone number.
I don’t know how Luna did it, but I don’t care—I’m just so relieved to have access to the outside world.
And the first call I make is to my friend Lacy.
“Hey!” She answers on the first ring. “Where have you been? Your phone has been going straight to voicemail for over a week.”
I pull in a breath, steeling myself for the conversation we’re about to have.
Because I have to tell someone.
I have to be able to talk about this—for my own sanity. Otherwise, it stays buried deep, where it’s simmering and I spend far too much time overthinking all my life choices.
“Something happened,” I say slowly.
“What happened?” she demands. “Are you okay?”
“I was kidnapped.”
“What?!” Her voice is slightly less volatile than a shriek.
“I had dinner with Jillian and Sage. We got done around 10:30, and I walked back to my car. I was parked on the street…it was only a block away. I got the keys out, clicked the button to unlock it and someone grabbed me from behind.” I pause, trying to breathe as memories momentarily overwhelm me.
“Oh fuck, Allora.” Lacy’s voice is filled with concern.
“They knocked my phone out of my hand, and I guess they used chloroform or something because he put a cloth over my face and that’s all I remember until I woke up.”
“Jesus.”
“It was a sex trafficking ring,” I say, since that’s easier than jumping right into what they did to me.
“What?!” Her voice is low but filled with shock.
“When I woke up, my ankle was chained to a bed. The room was dark. There was no food or water, no windows, nothing but four walls and this horrible smelly mattress on a platform.”
“Allora.” Lacy’s voice is soft but filled with horror. “Did he—”
“Yes.” I blurt out the response quickly, before I chicken out. “And there were two of them.”
The silence on the other end of the phone speaks volumes. Since I know her well, I have a feeling she’s doing some version of counting to ten before she explodes with anger or empathy or whatever it is she’s feeling.
“I’m okay, Lace,” I say softly. “I was rescued. It took two days but I managed to fight through the drugs and signal for help. A man saw it and followed us. When it became clear that he wasn’t giving up, my captor stopped the van in the middle of nowhere, jumped out and ran, leaving me behind.”
“And a good Samaritan rescued you?”
“Yes. And believe it or not, he’s a professional bodyguard. Former Special Forces. He’s badass as hell. His name is Landon. My father hired him to protect me until we can sort this out.”
“Why do you need protection?” she asks slowly.
“Because they have my wallet with my ID and stuff. And I saw their faces. My dad and Daniil think—”
“I thought his name was Landon?”
I do my best to explain about Shadow Security and how it all came together. It’s certainly easier than talking about what happened to me.
“But how are you otherwise?” she asks. “I mean…physically?”
“I’m okay. I had some bruised ribs and they still hurt, but it gets better every day. The bruising on my face is almost gone so that’s a plus.”
“What about the less visible injuries?”
“I was examined at the hospital. They used condoms so there was no DNA but also very little chance for diseases.”
“Or pregnancy.”
“Well, I still have my implant, so I’m fairly safe in that regard. Diseases were more my concern.”
“Are you seeing a psychologist?”
“Not yet. I’ve been busy getting new ID, canceling credit cards, shit like that. And then two guys showed up at my apartment and trashed it. So now we know for sure, they are looking for me.”
“And you’re living with your bodyguard? Landon?”
“Yes. It was either here or the clubhouse, and you know that’s not happening.”
“Yeah, definitely not.” She pauses again. “Should I come out there? I can stay at a hotel nearby, but I’d be close if you needed me.”
I love that she offered, but it’s probably not the right time.
“You’re the best,” I say softly, “but right now it’s better for me to just stay out of sight. Both Shadow Security and the club are looking for them.”
“To what end?”
“To take down the whole trafficking ring. I mean, Dad’s club has been involved in sketchy stuff over the years, but never anything like this.”
“Don’t they run some kind of brothel?”
“Yes, but it’s mostly on the up and up. Women have to be twenty-one—they check ID—and no one is forced to do anything. They’re there because they want to be. I don’t love it but the girls are well taken care of. Like they don’t get beat up or hurt—the guys make sure of it.”
“So, they’re pimps but pimps with a conscience.”
“Essentially. Those women were going to do what they’re doing anyway. At least with the club, they have protection. My mom made sure of it, and I’m ninety-nine-percent sure my dad is strict about that.”
“If you don’t want me to come to California, what can I do to help? What do you need?”
I sigh, because I have no idea.
Cleo climbs on my lap as if she senses my frustration, and I absently scratch under her chin, which is her favorite. Within a few seconds, she starts to purr and it’s loud enough for Lacy to hear.
“At least Cleo wasn’t traumatized,” she says.
“Elliott got her out before—”
“Elliott?”
“Oh! Do you remember Rage the Cage?”
“Yes! Holy shit, does he work for Shadow Security?”
“Yup. And he’s Landon’s best friend. Landon, who goes by the nickname Grim.”
“So, you have Grim, Rage, and Prince Daniil?”
“Daniil is the boss and doesn’t use his title. He told me to call him Dan or Daniil. There’s also Chris, whom they call Chaos, but I don’t know that story. Grim and Rage get their names from their real surnames—Grimshaw and Rageis.”
“Sounds like they should be in the MC.”
I grimace. “Please, don’t say that. It’s hard enough dealing with my dad. I don’t need more of that in my life.”
“No shit.”
We’re quiet again, the only sound in the room from Cleo’s purring.
“Are you okay, though?” Lacy asks again. “Like, mentally?”
“I don’t know what I am,” I admit. “Generally speaking, I’m okay. The physical bruises are healing. I’ve been resting and focusing on putting pieces of my life back together, like getting replacements for my license and credit cards, but I’ve definitely been avoiding the hard stuff.”
“Like calling your therapist.” It’s more statement than question.
“Yeah. Because then I’m going to have to talk about it. In detail. And I don’t know that I’m ready for that.”
“I don’t think it’s a rule for you to talk about it. You should only do that when and if you’re ready.”
“You want the truth?”
“Of course.”
“I don’t want to talk about it. Not in any detail. Not because I’m ashamed or anything like that, but because it won’t change anything. What will be different if I sit here and give you every detail of what they did to me?”
“Absolutely nothing,” she agrees. “Which is why I don’t think talking about it is mandatory. I think you do need to deal with whatever emotions it evokes. Like, will it impact your ability to have sex in the future? Dating? Walking out to your car by yourself after a night out?”
“Yeah, I know. Right now, I’m in this little protective cocoon here at Landon’s. It’s just Landon, Cleo, and me, and he was kind enough to give up his bedroom and bed so I have privacy.”
“And while that’s lovely and kind, hiding yourself away isn’t healthy.”
“I know. I think I’m still going to Denver next week. For the Alexa Humboldt event.”
“You want me to meet you there?”
I hesitate.
Not because I don’t want to see her but because she’s a fairly well-known actress who’ll be recognized. And if the paparazzi sees us together, they’ll take pictures, and that would give away my location.
“I want to try to stay anonymous,” I admit quietly. “I hope that doesn’t hurt your feelings.”
“Honey, this isn’t about me. I’ll do whatever you need, even if it’s killing me not to be there for you.”
“But you are. Being able to talk to you, without any pressure, is the best thing you can do for me right now.”
“I’m always here.”
“I know.”
“Hey, did you hear about the Dusky Peaks reboot?”
“I read about it. Are you going to be in it?”
“Yes! And remember my friend Serena from the show?”
“She played Marissa, right?”
“Yup—she’s coming back too. We start filming in Atlanta in July.”
“That’s exciting. But aren’t you booked?”
“I have a small part in a movie coming up but I talked to them and they think they can have my stuff done by early June, which is plenty of time.”
“You think they want me to come back for another one-line cameo?” I tease. I literally appeared in one episode and spoke one line of dialogue as a bartender asking what the main characters wanted to drink.
“If you genuinely want that, I’m sure I can make it happen.” She pauses. “I’ve been hooking up with Gregory Shill.”
“For real?” I ask, chuckling. “How long has this been going on?”
“Since he reached out to ask me to reprise my role. It just happened.”
“And?”
“Nothing. I mean, it’s fun but I don’t harbor any illusions that he’s the love of my life. So, if you want me to put the bug in his ear, I can do it.”
I haven’t wanted to be in the spotlight in a few years but a one-line part on a popular TV show would be fun. Something different. And it seems like I could use something different right about now.
“If it’s possible, great. If not, no big deal.”
“I’ll talk to him this week.”
“Thanks, Lacy. You’re a good friend.”
“And I meant what I said—if you want me to come out there, or meet you in Denver, or whatever, I’m happy to do it.”
“I’ll let you know.”
We talk another few minutes before I disconnect.
Then I sit there for a long time thinking about our conversation and a million other things that have been on my mind.
Short-term, I’m fine.
Long-term, I think this ordeal is going to catch up to me one way or another and I need to find a way to make sure I’m prepared. I’m neither na?ve nor stupid; I know I went through something traumatic and I can’t just will it away.
At some point, I’m going to have to work through it all.
But I have no idea how.