We arrive in under ten minutes, though the ride felt like an eternity. My angel has to be exhausted beyond belief, and I want nothing more than to tuck her into bed. As soon as I dismount, I offer my hand to help her off the bike. She takes it and doesn’t let go. I don’t mind.
Once inside, Melodie clings to my side. I consider giving her a tour of her new home, but decide against it. We’ll have plenty of time for that tomorrow. Instead, I guide her to the main bathroom and show her the towels, soap, and how to work the shower.
“I’ll grab a change of clothes for you and leave them outside the door, okay?” I release her hand, but she whimpers and snatches it back, as if I’m the only thing keeping her from falling apart at the seams. “Do you… want me to stay?” It kills me to seeher shoulders drop and her gaze fall to the floor. “You can ask for what you need, angel,” I whisper.
A tiny gasp escapes her lips, and she tilts her head up to meet my gaze. “I… Um, I think I need help.”
Her tiny voice has a little more strength behind it. I pray she gives me the chance to bring more of that out in her. “We’ll figure out everything in the morning,” I assure her. “After food, shower, and sleep.”
“I meant… I…” she coughs and breaks eye contact as she folds in on herself again. “I need help getting out of… my clothes,” she whispers.
I furrow my brow, then take a closer look at her voluptuous body I’ve been trying to ignore. The tattered gray dress falls to the floor, revealing a baby blue corset that looks to be a few sizes too small. Melodie turns her back to me, and my stomach twists with anger when I see the rigid edges of the silk-covered cage encasing her torso. The wires have dug into her skin, leaving welts and open wounds. Dried blood stains the otherwise light-colored fabric, speaking to how long she’s been in these same clothes.Who the hell is this woman? Who put her in this torture contraption? Where did she come from?
Something clicks in my mind as I begin to untie the far-too-tight corset. Could this be the other woman Mika and Athena have been talking about? Both of them escaped from a vile auction-slash-human-trafficking-ring last week. My brothers and I at Wicked Riders have been working on dismantling the whole disgusting operation, and we’re almost ready to pull the trigger.
I wince when I pull the back of the corset open, hating the way my angel braces herself against the pain. I unintentionally ripped open a few sores and created new ones while trying to free her from her prison.
“I’m so sorry,” I tell her as I carefully peel the sweat and blood-soaked material away from her skin.
“No, I-I-I’m sor-ry,” she stutters out. “I’m so gross. I’m so sorry. I’m…”
I have to squeeze my eyes shut and bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself under control. She’s apologizing to me? It strikes me that this precious woman doesn’t think she’s worthy of taking up space, let alone being cared for.
“There’s nothing to apologize for,” I say in my most soothing voice. Can’t say I make a practice of soothing people, but I’d do damn near anything to ease this woman’s suffering. “You’re hurt and you’ve clearly been through something traumatic,” I continue. “Let me help. Trust me to take care of you.”
I grab a towel and wrap it around her naked body, not wanting her to feel more exposed or vulnerable than she already is. “Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.
I can’t very well tell her it’s because I want to make her my wife and have my kid growing inside her by this time next year. Instead, I settle for, “Because I don’t think you’ve ever had that.”
Tears well up in her eyes and her lower lip trembles. One day, it won’t devastate or shock her to know she’s loved. Soon, my angel will only know happiness and light.
“Thank you,” Melodie whispers, blinking away the tears before they fall. She turns and steps into the shower, and I take my cue to leave.
I grab a change of clothes for her like I said I would, leaving them right outside the door. I lean against the wall next to the bathroom and close my eyes. I have no idea what to do next, but I’m satisfied for now that she’s in my home and under my protection.
2
MELODIE
“Not this one, either,” comes the shrill, disappointed voice of the Madame as she tugs the barely-there bra off of me. “Vance will need better stock if this goddamn club is ever going to get off the ground,” she mutters to herself. “Scars up and down, left and right, and still, I’m supposed to make ‘em presentable. Impossible!”
She huffs out a frustrated breath and grabs another lingerie set, though she doesn't look hopeful about this one, either. I wrap my arms around my bare, vulnerable body, wishing I’d never picked up the call from my one-time foster brother, Heath. Then, he wouldn’t have had the chance to drug me and sell me to the highest bidder in exchange for a place in that stupid motorcycle club he’s been talking about for as long as I’ve known him.
The door to the dressing room opens, and a tall, wiry old man slips inside. He’s in a charcoal gray pinstripe suit, and he slithers toward me like a snake. I’m frozen in fear, completely naked, while strangers insult and stare at me.
“This one,” the man says. He’s pointing to something that looks like a silky cage hanging in the closet, but his eyes never leave mine. “Squeeze her into this and give her to me. She’s notgoing on stage.” He turns on his heel and abruptly leaves the room.
Two women rush in to take his place, poking and prodding my hair and face while the Madame wraps the corset around my torso. I gasp and then yelp in pain when she pulls the laces as tight as humanly possible. The air leaves my lungs in a forceful breath, and I’m finding it hard to get oxygen back into my body.
“Come on, girlie. Looks like the boss has special plans for you tonight.”
“No,” I weakly protest. “No, please just let me go.”
The Madame gives me a dead-eyed smile and chuckles cruelly. “There’s no escaping, little lamb,” she whispers close to my ear. “You’ ve caught the eye of someone very special. Vance usually doesn’t shop for himself at these things, but I guess you’re the exception.” Her hand curls around my chin and she grips my flesh with her boney fingers. “Now, shut up and do as you’re told. Vance doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
She shoves me forward and I stumble out into the hallway in my four-inch heels. The familiar old man with tiny, cold eyes and a silver cane catches me, his hand wrapping around my upper arm. Vance shoves me against the wall with more force than I’d expect from someone his age.
“Don’t fight,” he warns. “I have your life in my hands. No one gives a shit about you. No one is coming to save you. We can have a good time, just me and you. Or, if you’re going to be a brat, I might have to teach you a lesson. The choice is yours.”
