“There is someone impatiently waiting to see you. Want me to get him?”
“Is it Uncle Peter?” I smiled excitedly. I really missed the big biker and his sweetness. While everyone around him seemed to fear him, all I remembered was the big, sweet teddy bear who read to me and watched Princess movies. Uncle Peter was one of the nicest men I’d ever known, and I loved him dearly.
Max chuckled. “Just wait a sec.” Getting to his feet, I watched as Max opened the door and nodded to someone in the hallway. My heart was racing. I hoped it was Uncle Peter. Oh, how I really wanted it to be him. Then, before I couldn’t take the suspense any longer, in walked the man I wanted next to Max.
“Hey, Princess.”
“Uncle Peter,” I sobbed as he came over to me, leaned down, wrapped his arms around me while I cried. It had been so long since I’d been comforted by his strong arms.
I was finally safe.
“Now now. Let’s have none of that. Your safe now, and we ain’t never lettin’ ya go. Are we Reaper?”
“Never.”
“You’re ours now Princess, and we take care of our own. Always.”
Over the next couple of hours, we all talked about everything, from how Hellhound crashed his bike to Max’s dad passing away. I was sad to hear that. I learned that was when Max became the new President. I also knew that the Golden Skulls was the largest motorcycle club on the West Coast, and they had chapters in almost every state. The club itself was big, and many of the chapters were big into different charities. When I asked about this club, both Max and Uncle Peter seemed to shut down but eventually nodded, saying that they took care of those who couldn’t.
I thought it was cryptic but didn’t pry. However, when they both started asking questions about me, well, I glossed over most of it. It wasn’t that I didn’t want them to know. It was just that I didn’t know how to begin. How do I start my story? It all started when my father molested me at the age of four. He then sold me when I turned eight, and when I was returned to him, thanks to your club, I was beaten daily and raped repeatedly. Then finally, we moved to Louisiana because the police were about to arrest my dad, and when we got to New Orleans, my dad sold me to a horrible man who took turns raping and beating me into submission?
Yeah, I don’t think Once Upon a Time will work in my case.
Instead, I told them about my mother and how much she loved and doted on me, which was kind of the truth, but mainly she stayed away because dad kept her drugged heavily. I did miss her, and I missed my dog Buster, who my father shot after we moved to Louisiana, but I said he just ran away.
Oh, I did mention my desire to finish school, which was the honest to God’s truth.
“Remi,” Max whispered, his eyes boring into mine. “You’re lying. Why?”
“I’m not lying.”
“Yes, you are. I can tell. You’re fiddling with your fingers and won’t look me in the eye. You did that when we were in the cages when you didn’t want to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk about that, ever,” I shouted, tears forming in my eyes. I wouldn’t do it. Not even Max could make me.
Max hugged me, rubbing my back. “Okay, Remi. You don’t have to talk about it. I won’t make you.”
Hugging him back, I held on to him for dear life.
That’s what Max was.
My lifeline.
The one person who I believed could save me. Make me smile when all I wanted was death to consume me. I’d been fighting my whole life, and I was tired. I didn’t want to fight anymore. I just wanted to sleep and pray it was peaceful.
When I looked up, Max was smiling at me, and Uncle Peter had left. “I’m sorry, I’m so emotional. I don’t know why.”
“Don’t play this off, Remi. I know, and so do you. Hell, even Healer knows, and before you say anything, he won’t say a word.”
“I don’t know how to talk about it.”
“Neither do I.”
“Maybe, we can talk. You know, just us. No one else.”
“Maybe,” Max said, looking away.
“I’m tired, Max. I think I’m gonna go back to sleep.”