She shrugs again. “You’re gonna have to ask him.”
Behind the building is full of dusty dirt and another building that stretches for a ways. It’s a surprise, I wouldn’t have guessed from standing out front. I wasn’t really looking before.
“How long have you been with the gang? Is it okay if I ask that?”
Pixie pulls out a pack of smokes and lights one up. Still, she’s all smiles. “Yeah. You can ask. I’ve been here six years. After the guys saved me.”
“Like they’re trying to save me?”
A casual shrug. “Not exactly, but essentially, yeah.”
Her head whips around as Sin exits the side door behind us, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.
“Are we not supposed to be out here?” I was told not to go outside without an escort, but surely Pixie counts. Right?
Pixie rolls her eyes. “I think he’s your current shadow. I doubt you’ll go anywhere without one for a while. I’m going to show you the garage, so you know where you’re supposed to go and where you’re not supposed to go.”
We walk toward the garage where more men sit on bikes, work on bikes, and fill the high ceiling with more smoke.
I see Saint’s name on the wall—his service, his rank, the club’s code: “Sanctuary First.” Did he build all of this himself?
Did it have anything to do with the picture of his wife and son, who are obviously not here anymore? Not with him. Whatever that means.
“This is the garage. There’s meeting rooms inside and that’s where the men hold church. That’s where they handle club business. You’re not to go near it unless you’re invited. They have a lot of outsiders in there, and the girls aren’t safe.”
“I don’t want to know, do I?”
Pixie shakes her head. “Unless you like the idea of being passed around and shared…”
By strangers? No. That’s horrifying.
But I peer back at my shadow—at Sin—and I wonder if the idea of being shared is off my list of desires entirely.
“Got it. Fully warned.”
“Yeah, well, the girls who go back there know what they’re getting into. It’s a choice for some.” Her voice falters slightly, butanother smile follows as we round the side of the building where a fire pit and lawn chairs are spread out.
“I’m guessing you didn’t have a choice. Once upon a time?” It sounds similar enough to my situation for me to empathize with her already.
“The cliffnotes version? I got kidnapped from behind a club when I was a teen, drunk from my fake ID and the attention of older men. I woke up in a warehouse with other girls to be sold off for an hour at a time.”
Her frown and the glaze in her eyes makes her seem so much older. Like she’s lived too much life, but she can’t be much older than me.
“Saint and the crew crashed in and saved us. Saved me. Well, most of me, anyway. I didn’t have any family to go back to after. These men became my family, and I’m proud to be here. A part of it. They gave me my life back.”
I blink at her, absolutely horrified by what she must have gone through. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask:How long did those awful people have you?But I don’t. It will put far too much into perspective.
If given the choice between that and being beholden to one awful man, my decision would be easy enough.
I grab her hand and squeeze.
Her smile renews, cracking a few crinkles around her eyes. It’s genuine.
It shows me this club in a new way—Saint and Sin and Doc in a new way. The garage gives hints of some underground work, something more than the expected drugs and weaponssmuggling. Especially if they’re helping to take down trafficking rings.
We start walking around the front again where a few more men pull up to join the others in the bar. When they stop to watch us, I feel their eyes on me and do my best not to squirm.
It helps that Sin rounds the corner. I can feel it even before the men jerk back into motion.
