Chapter 6
When I walk back outside, she’s sitting on the chaise with her knees drawn up to her chest. Her arms are wrapped around her knees and she’s resting her chin on her knees.
I walk over to the chaise and set the laptop down. She leans forward and grabs the computer and blows out a breath as she logs into her email.
“Here,” she says, sliding the computer over.
I look at the screen. The email is from the police department in Stroh, Colorado.
To
From .
Subject: Case File 456781F4822
Miss. Guiler,
The requested files have been attached to this email. If you have any further questions or comments, please call my desk at 798-555-4679. If you would like to pursue charges on Mr. Lane, alert us at your earliest convenience.
Thank you, Sgt Addams.
Stroh PD
I opened the attachment and the first photo I scroll to. I hiss a breath from between my teeth. Red, boiling hot, roaring rage pumps through my veins.
In the picture, Schuyler was in a hospital bed, her face swollen beyond recognition. Both eyes swollen shut, a cut to her temple, a split lip and bruising around her throat.
I keep scrolling because I have to. I need to know what happened to this amazing woman, so when the time comes, when I catch this motherfucker, I can do the exact same thing twice as bad back to him.
The next few photos are of the same markings on her throat and wrists. Her ankles are the same, swollen as well.
I would never have been ready to see the last two photos. Never, as long as I live this life and my afterlife, will I be able to get these images out of my head. These will be with me, always.
They are shots of her hips and thighs with blood trails running down them. Her hips are fingertip bruised, along with random tiny cuts, from hipbone to hipbone. I furrow my brow as I try and figure out what the fuck they are.
“When I stopped giving him the satisfaction of screaming for him to stop, he would stab my stomach, hips, and chest to hear my cries,” she states emotionless. Again, stealing my thoughts.
I swallow the bile in my throat and keep scrolling to read the report.
Victim was drugged to a party at her father’s house, resulting in her passing out, unconscious. Victim then woke up strapped to a table at an unknown location. Evidence shows that she was violated. Miss Gulier states she was raped by Mr. Nathan Lane of 4879 South Columbia Street, Stroh, CO 90845, where victim was found. Miss. Guiler does not wish to press charges. Case will stay open for ninety days from date report was made. After ninety days, a new claim will have to be made if under the statutes of limitation.
Rape kit report is also attached.
The undersigned officer states, under penalty of the law, that everything stated above is correct to his or her knowledge.
I shut the laptop, and place it on the deck. I don’t even bother reading the report from the rape kit. I can’t. The murderous feelings flowing through my veins right now need controlled. Until I can get somewhere to expel some of this anger, I can’t do that to her.
“So now you know. My father had his VP rape me,” she says.
“Fuck, Schuy. I don’t even know what to say.” I blow out a breath feeling lame compared to how she must feel. “It’s okay. I get it,” she says, void of emotion.
“Get what?” I ask, turning to her.
“I’m damaged. I’m used. I’m literally someone’s sloppy fucking seconds,” she bites out. The fire I love blazed bright in her eyes.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I don’t yell, but my voice is firm. I will spank her ass pink if she’s talking like that about herself.
“I can see it in your eyes, Vice! The look of disgust! I’ve seen it enough in my life to pinpoint it in others.” Her eyes fill with angry tears.
“You want to know what I’m thinking?” I growl out while shoving my way into her personal space, making her fall to her back. I see her gulp at my nearness. “I’m thinking I’d love nothing fucking more than to take my knife and gut that motherfucker from here,” I point to the hollow in her neck, “all the way down…” I drag my finger down her torso, “..to here.” My voice grows raspy as I end my trail at the top of her hot heat.
Her chest is rising and falling at the pace of her rapid breaths. I trail my finger all the way back up her body, stopping at her chin. I tip it up to bring her eyes to mine.
“As for you being damaged? Used? And sloppy seconds? I will bend you over my fucking knee, and smack that perfect ass until it’s just the right shade of pink, if I ever hear you talk like that about yourself again.” I search her eyes, and notice they have gone dark with desire. “Because from where I’m standing, sweetheart, you’re more than fucking perfect. Your body has my cock hard as a damn rock every time you walk near me. Your eyes make me want to fall to my knees at your mercy. The fire I see blazing within them is nearly my undoing.” I take my thumb and rub it across her lips, “and these lips… I’ve never felt something so soft, so delicious, so perfectly made for me in all my twenty-seven years. You, my sweet Schuyler, are every man’s wet dream, and I’m laying my claim right here, right now. You. Are. Mine. And I will protect you with my life.”
Her eyes fill up with tears and she blinks rapidly to make them go away.
“I’m yours,” she repeats, “What about your brotherhood? The Angels won’t be as understanding as you.”
“Let me worry about them, sweetheart. There are two things my Prez won’t stand for; drug trafficking, and forcing a woman. He ain’t gonna take to kindly to Nathan, I growl out.
I run my hand over my face again to not show my anger. She’s been through enough to recognize anger when she sees it.
Her delicate fingers grab my hand and her thumb runs across my knuckles ever so slightly.
“You have scars,” she murmurs.
I look down at my knuckles and see the tiny scars all along them.
“Yeah, I do. Each scar holds a story. Most of ‘em ain’t no good either, sweetheart. I’m not a good man. So, don’t get your ideas twisted. The only difference between my MC and your father’s is that we protect ours. We don’t sell them like slaves. Your daddy has a reputation, and, trust me; it’s not a good one.”
“Trust me when I say I understand. You have just seen what he does to people who go against him.”
“Will you tell me the story?” I ask as I push a strand of hair out of her eyes.
“My dad wants to marry me off to his vice president Nathan in the Stryker’s MC, and I’m not sure it could be the same in yours, but the men are not faithful to their ol’ ladies. So, when my dad informed me he was giving my hand away, I fought it. No way in hell will I spend the rest of my life tied to a man who can’t be faithful to me. Not only that, but Nathan disgusted me. He gets all of his women hooked on heroin. It’s not their choice, either. He forces the drug into their veins, and repeats it, until they are needing him to get the next high. They would literally end up depending on him. So, they would do whatever he asked, whenever he asked. There was no way in hell I was going to put myself in that kind of a situation. Nope. No way. So, I thought I’d just move out of my father’s and he’d take a hint. It wasn’t that easy.” A bitter laugh escapes her. “He showed up at my apartment and told me I didn’t have a choice in the matter, ended up backhanding me. Forced me to leave to go to his clubhouse and talk. My dad has two clubhouses. One is a party house and one is only allowed for higher trusted patch members. Wives are not allowed in unless approved by my father. Same with kids. So anyway, he shoves me into his SUV and we ride to the clubhouse in silence. I never even wiped the blood off of my face from the split lip he gave me. I wanted everyone to see the monster he is.”
Her eyes are blazing the fire I have grown accustomed to.
“We pull into the drive and the one house has a party going on. My father pulled me from the backseat and started walking toward the party house. He told me he had some shit to do before he could talk some sense into me. So, he ordered me to go into the party and wait for him. I walked in and go straight to the bar. I ordered a drink to deal with the bullshit I know I’ll have deal with. Not all of his members are bad. Some have no clue, because my dad only tells a trusted few. However, they are one percenters. So, they know they are ruthless.”
“I thought your father’s VP was Derrek. Who is this Nathan Lane?”
“Derrek was shot and killed over a year ago. I know Nate had something to do with that, too. My dad kept it hush hush about Nate becoming the new VP. He wanted to use him to keep doing his dirty work. People are less inclined to tell a vice president dirty shit that’s going to get ‘em killed. The rule was, not a word got out to anyone outside of the MC.”
My arm rested under her head as we lie there. I take my hand and intertwine my fingers with hers, lending her strength. I let her touch ease the anger inside of me, brewing like an uncontrollable storm.
“I sat there, sipping my drink, and everyone was staring. The Stryker president’s daughter having a drink in their clubhouse with a split, bloody lip. Not one of the motherfuckers came up and asked me what was wrong. What happened? If I was okay.” She grips my shirt but I don’t think she knows it. “So, I climb down from my barstool and go to the restroom. When I come back, there is a new drink waiting for me. At first, I thought it was the bartender’s way of saying he understands, or something, you know. However, what it really was – wasn’t even in the same realm as that. It was loaded with date rape drugs. I was out for eighteen hours. When I came to, I was being kicked in the ribs. A big fucking, fat boot kept smashing into my ribcage.” Her hand goes to her side and I want to murder everything in the world right now, knowing that this perfect woman went through hell.
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could take the pain away from you.”
She looks up at me and I smile back at her.
“Thank you, Vice.”
“So, what made you tell me this?” I ask.
“You know when that prospect came up to you before we left?” she asks, averting her eyes.
“Yes?”
“Well, once you told him you were not meeting with the guy asking for you, and then we got on the bike and took off? The guy at the front of the club’s guest doors, walking to his bike; tall, blonde hair,. He has an ugly scar behind his ear going the length of his neck. His eyes hold no emotion, no feeling, no remorse for the actions he’s done. His smile is pure evil, and he has one tooth longer than the others…” She catches herself rambling and the eyes that had gone distant, flick back to mine. “I’m sorry; you wouldn’t know any of that. I’m just a little freaked out he is here. “
“Mmhmm… a little freaked out?”
“Okay, a lot freaked out,” she whispers. “Anyway that guy outside of your clubhouse today; that’s him.”
“What?” I ask to make sure I heard her right.
“That’s him.” She clears her throat, to sound stronger. “I don’t know why he’s here, or why he wants to see you. I’ve been here over a year without ever making a friend outside of the diner. I have never told my story to anyone. I never have had my father’s last name, so it won’t come up on a background check. He didn’t want me at first, because I was a girl. I couldn’t carry out his name. Then the idea of my mother leaving, and taking me with her, pissed him off. He didn’t like the idea of his property walking out. So, he beat my mom, and now keeps her locked up in his clubhouse. She isn’t allowed to leave without her arm on his. She’s not even allowed to fucking visit with me unless he’s there.” She runs her hand through her hair and then blows out a breath.
“I don’t know if Nathan is here for me, or for MC business. But I’m 100 percent sure he saw me today. So that’s why I have to leave.” She rushes out.
“The fuck you do,” I growl out. No way in hell is she leaving without protection. Leaving her life behind again. Leaving me.
“I have to, Vice. My past is coming, if I want it to or not. Your brotherhood won’t accept me. They won’t overlook the fact of who I am, because you might like me. That won’t be enough. My father is ruthless. He’s cunning. He has no feelings. No morals. I can’t let my past hurt anyone. I care about you; therefore, I care about the Angels. I can’t let it hurt you, or them,” she rambles.
“Woman, you have no clue who the Angels are, do you?” I ask her.
“No, but I know who he is. My past can hurt you, Stanton! Don’t you get it!?” she jumps up from the chaise and throws her arms out. Her eyes blazing that fire I hope never leaves.
"Are you forgetting what a past is, Schuyler? It's what was. What has been. Not what is now. Your past helps pave the road you're on, not what direction it travels. That's entirely up to you. I'm not going to hold it against you, so why hold it against yourself?" I ask.
"It's not that easy, Vice. What if he comes back? What are you going to do? What if my past comes back for me? There is no stopping that monster. What he wants, he takes. What if he hurts you?" she ends on a whisper.
I reach out and grab her hand and pull her to me. My thumb brushes away a tear that escapes her beautiful brown eyes. "I swear on my brotherhood, if he tries to take anything from me, or you, I will kill your father, slowly."