Chapter 2
TWO
Danika
Winter is my favorite. Always has been. There’s something about the snow I couldn’t wait for. It’s cozy. Like being wrapped in a warm, fluffy blanket. Everything is quiet. Peaceful. And with each flake falling, it drowns out the world.
The busy.
The chaos.
Fills the soul with a sense of calm. Especially after the Christmas rush is through and all that’s left is time.
I descend the stairs, but wince when the immediate, throbbing pain pierces me like a knife.
Certain movements or at random times I’m left remembering what could have been.
Softly, I rub the letter permanently burned into my skin.
A constant reminder. The cage. The room.
Him. I was almost fated with a future of doom and torment.
I can’t imagine what would have happened if I was sold to the man this letter belonged to.
What being sold on the illegal market would have been like.
Agony. It would have been unbearable agony if Tequila’s boyfriend and his club hadn’t saved us.
It’s been almost three months, and I am healing.
Slowly. But some weren’t so lucky. Mya wasn’t so lucky.
She was too young and innocent to die. If she’d only stayed back and waited for them to save us.
Instead, she ran out of desperation, and I’ll never forget the image of her being shot to her death right in front of me.
Her and I were held captive together until the monsters brought Tequila in. Regardless of it all, I’m glad we made it out. I liked Tequila. Even though her nickname is ridiculous, I chuckle at the remembrance, I’ll always be grateful for her and what her friends did for me.
The positive? I stopped crying myself to sleep. At least that is something.
When I step out onto the sidewalk, the frigid air hits me and I make sure to wrap my scarf tighter.
Luckily, the diner I work at is across the street from my apartment.
Since I don’t own a car, I’d have to take a cab, Uber, or a bus.
The cost alone would wreck me, not to mention being alone with strangers gives me the worst sense of panic.
If the ambulance wasn’t racing down the street at the same time, I would have noticed the motorcycle coming from the opposite direction sooner.
Given the winter season, I’m more at ease and don’t have to be so paranoid.
I figure I have time to not obsessively scan every man on a motorcycle making sure it’s not him.
The man who abused my body for his pleasure.
But as soon as I hear the roaring of the pipes, I freeze before finally scurrying into the nearest ally cowardly hiding myself against the wall.
What crazy lunatic rides his motorcycle this time of year?
My back is flush with the cold brick, and I close my eyes waiting for them to pass.
Did he find me?
My heart beats insanely fast, feeling it in my ears with the terror gripping my lungs and squeezing.
No. It can’t be him. He’d have to be an idiot to show his face around here. He’s probably long gone by now, hopefully rotting underground somewhere. Dead. Yes, I wish for his death daily. If he’s dead, he won’t be able to hurt anyone else.
The motorcycle zooms by and then and only then am I finally able to catch my breath. The feeling is agonizing being afraid like this.
With a cautious step, I break away out from the ally. With a break in the light traffic, I make my way across the street, taking a quick glance in the direction of the motorcycle, before slipping inside the diner.
The little bell jingles, and some regulars sit at the front bar. Thomas is working on whipping up his famous egg and bacon sandwiches whistling along to an oldie song.
Do I love working here? Not exactly, but it’s a job, and one I’m lucky to have. Waitressing isn’t bad and it beats having to walk four blocks to my old job at the corner store. Not that I would ever consider working there again.
I give Thomas a quick wave as I head toward the back where the break room and lockers are.
On one of the benches, next to my locker, Lydia fails miserably trying to tie her up into a bun. Her thick blonde hair falling out at every try.
“Here.” I quickly hang my scarf and coat on one of the hooks and take the hair tie from her.
“Thanks. I can never get the stupid thing to stay in like you do. You must teach me your ways, oh powerful one.”
I softly chuckle. “I’ve had loads of practice.” A quick painful memory of my days in the yoga studio overwhelms me but I shake it off. “There. All done.”
Lydia spins, greeting me with a smile. “Wouldn’t want to upset the boss man. Wish the fucker would let us wear our hair however we wanted. Not like we’re the cooks.”
Eric’s the owner of the diner and our douchebag of a boss. He has a strict policy on the servers. Our uniforms must be wrinkle free, and our hair was to be worn up. Not crazy regulations but he does send unsettling chills up my spine. Though, every man makes me uncomfortable nowadays.
A loud bang echoes from somewhere inside the room, and I jump, dropping my clear purse to the floor.
Gunshots.
No. Not gunshots. I’m safe.
One of the back cooks had slammed his locker. He nods, passing us by and heading up to the front.
“Hey. You okay?” Lydia asks with her brows tucked inward.
“Yeah. I’m fine. It just startled me.”
She slowly nods telling me she’ll see me up front. Lydia was the first person I’ve made a connection with since Tequila. Having been so closed off for so long, I forgot what it’s like to make friends.
I breathe in, slowly letting the air out and I close my eyes.
I’ve been doing so much better. Making loads of progress and then something like this happens.
Something so small. But I’m okay—I’ll be okay.
He can’t hurt me now. That’s the powerful thing about your mind, you can trick it into believing anything if you allow it.
It’s slow the first half of my shift but by the middle, the evening rush picks up, and me and Lydia are the only servers left.
“Table four wants a redo on their BLT sandwich,” I’m fast at telling Thomas who moved from the front breakfast cook to back dinner cook. He rolls his eyes, and I nearly run into Lydia who just grabbed the tray for her table’s order.
“Good thing my reflexes are on par,” she quips, raising a plate overhead while scurrying away to the front.
It’s certainly a busy day.
I carry the tray of my table’s drink order to the front and catch the host seating three more guests in my section.
But my attention zooms in on the male and female, both wearing MC patches on their leathers.
My veins turn to ice. Still holding the tray of drinks, I can’t seem to lift my feet off the ground.
“Excuse me, miss. I need to squeeze by you.”
I spin, facing a woman who is smiling awkwardly at me.
“I’m sorry.” I shift to the side to let her pass, but my focus steers right back to the bikers.
The female is holding the hand of a little girl who bounces excitedly next to her.
Her partner, I assume, is tall with broad shoulders and he easily towers over each of them.
Okay. That’s good. Bad bikers wouldn’t have a cute family with them, right? It’s fine. Stay cool. I breathe and then muster the courage to walk by.
I set down the drinks at table five and then get out my notepad to take the newcomers orders. My heart is pounding, and my hands are getting clammy.
The little girl and woman, who is undeniably stunning with her jet-black hair, are facing my direction. Both laughing. Both seeming happy.
Okay. They seem innocent.
I can do this.
When I get to their table I smile at the woman and the little girl. It’s not until I get close enough that I notice her pregnant belly. “Hi. Welcome to Eric’s diner. Where we feed you quality food at a freakishly fast pace.” I roll my eyes mentally at the ridiculous tagline we’re all forced to say.
The three of them stare at me with empathetic looks.
Yeah, I hate my job.
The little girl giggles. “That’s funny.”
“Chloe,” the woman says sternly, embarrassed of the little blonde girl’s outburst and I can’t help but chuckle.
“What can I get you to drink.” I’ve avoided it too long and finally decide I need to fully glance over at the man sitting with them.
Holy hell.
With his sandy blond hair and bright blue eyes, he’s just as gorgeous as the woman he’s with. And then he smiles. I swallow, quickly darting my eyes back to my notepad pretending to scribble something.
“Hi! You’re pretty,” Chloe, who looks like a perfect mixture of them both waves at me and my heart instantly warms.
“And so are you. I love your French braids.”
“Thanks! My auntie Angel did them. She’s really good at braiding hair. Probably because hers is so long.”
My smile grows bigger.
“Chloe. I think the nice lady would like to take our order now and then get back to work,” the beautiful woman says to her.
“Trust me, I’d much rather talk about braiding hair with you,” I mutter with a smile, but it drops to a frown when the man with the stunning eyes grunts then answers his phone.
“If you’ll excuse me ladies, I need to take this.
Go ahead and order for me, pretty girl. You know what I like.
” When he stands, he towers over us making me feel smaller than I already am.
He lays a kiss to the woman’s forehead, and heat rises on my cheeks feeling like I’m interrupting a private moment.
Whoever they are, they love each other. I can’t place it, but I feel like I’ve seen him before.
As he slips by, I cast another quick glance at his cut.
The Steel Valley Chains MC.
My heart leaps into my throat.
It’s them. The ones who saved me.
I turn my head back to the woman and she’s studying me with curiosity. She wears a shiny engagement ring on her left hand and she’s probably wondering why I’m staring at her fiancé.
“Is everything okay? Do you need to sit down?”
“Mommy. She looks really pale.”
When the world around me starts to spin, I don’t hesitate to slide into the booth where the handsome man recently vacated.
“I’m sorry. I…” I haven’t prepared myself on what I would say if I ever did see them again. Her club that is.
“Should I get someone for you?” Her concern is genuine and that’s when I know it’s them. It’s really them.
I hesitate but then my mouth moves before my brain can intercept. “Do you know a woman named Tequila? I blurt out, not wasting any time on being subtle.
“Auntie Tequila! Are you two friends?” the little girl named Chloe asks me.
Relief washes over me. “I suppose we are.” I dart my attention to the woman whose expression is blank yet confused. “My name is Danika. I’m not sure if you know who I am but—”
“Yes! I do.” Her face brightens as she reaches over the table and sets her hand on mine. It’s warm and I know these people are good. “I’m Jules and this ball of friendly energy is my daughter, Chloe. The walking testosterone is my ol’ man, Charger.”
Ol’ man? That must be what they call their fiancé’s.
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say with a shy smile. But with her knowing exactly who I am, the shame creeps up.
Charger walks back inside the same time my boss shows himself, popping out from the back and scanning the area. When he spots me, an angry scowl takes over his expression all while he stomps over to the table.
Shit.
I jump to my feet, not able to dodge my boss as he grips my arm tightly and my stomach lurches.
“Excuse me, folks,” he says dragging me off to the side.
But I don’t miss the look of disdain he throws their way.
“Is there any particular reason you were just sitting instead of working. In case you haven’t noticed we’re slammed.
” Eric is an out of shape fifty-year-old.
He can’t breathe just from spewing his angry words at me.
From his touch alone, I tense, and my mind starts dancing into an unpleasant nauseating frenzy.
A bodily presence appears next to me, and I glance to the side at Charger who’s shooting a death glare at Eric’s hand still holding on to me. My boss notices and quickly releases my arm.
“You okay, Danika?” Charger asks me. Jules must have caught him up rather quickly.
“This doesn’t concern you, boy. This is between me and my employee.”
“I wasn’t taking to you.” Charger shoots a mean look at Eric before sending a gentler one to me.
But I need this job.
“He’s right. I have to get back to work.” I dart pass them both not being able to get away fast enough.
Jules stops me, handing me a piece of paper on the way. “It’s our address and my number. I’m sure Tequila would love to see you.”
I glance down at it before slipping the paper inside my apron’s pocket. I never looked them up after the incident but having their address does give me a sense of comfort.
After work, I step inside my two-bedroom apartment and almost hurdle myself onto the couch.
My roommate is never home. She was always traveling with her hippie boyfriend, and I was glad about that.
Being alone didn’t dissatisfy me in any way but it is a painful reminder of the friends I don’t have.
The family I would never see again. Which makes me pull out the piece of paper.
Sure, there’s Lydia, and while we did connect on a friendship level, it’s mostly a work bond.
I’ll hold onto this, while I’m not one hundred percent certain I’ll go and see her, I’m not about to throw it away either. Jules’s number is written there as well and without thinking twice, I add her to my contacts. Just in case.