When all the thoughts were gone, pushed into their proper places in my head, I was finally able to fall asleep.

The last thing I felt was Robert pull away. The last thing I heard was a motorcycle down on the street below. The sound wormed its way into my fevered dreams and I woke up with the taste of J.'s lips still on my tongue.

Robert was already up and in the shower. I squirmed in bed, wondering why I was so sore, until the shock of yesterday rushed over me anew. All the carefully shelving I had done last night broke apart in the light of the day. The deep, raw hurt inside of my belly throbbed as painfully as my private places did. There was no ignoring the pain any longer.

I closed my fists around the bed sheets and gasped when I felt pain there too. Pulling my fists to my face, I rubbed my sore knuckles in wonder and confusion. I rolled over in bed and felt the soreness in my hips. Twist back and forth. Punch through my arm. I suddenly remembered why I was sore there too.

J. was teaching me how to fight.

The memory of my eyes in the mirror, shocked and terrified, propelled me from the bed. I winced as my feet hit the floor.

The water in the bathroom stopped running and I balled my fists tightly, working the stiffness from the joints of my fingers. Twist and punch. Twist and punch.

"You're up early," Robert commented, padding barefoot across the floor with a towel tucked around his waist.

I looked at him as if for the first time. He was repulsive. His furious brows, his cruel expression, how had I not seen it before? How had I been so blind to what he was, what he was capable of?

"Busy day," I lied smoothly and calmly. The story flowed from my lips like water, as easily and naturally as the truth. "Remember the commission I told you about?"

"Of course," he replied, pulling his work trousers from their hanger and shaking out the crease.

He was lying too. I could tell. But it didn't matter. All that mattered was that he believed me. "I'm meeting with the client today. He liked my work."

"Will you be alone?" he asked sharply.

I quickly embellished. "Oh no of course not. Sammie suggested I use the studios at the University to do my studies. Since I don't have studio s.p.a.ce anymore," I couldn't help but clarify. "She's going to let us in. It's the week before the summer session starts, so people will be around, but we should be able to work without people noticing I don't go there anymore."

"Hmmm," Robert didn't like it, I could tell. But pretending to support me was too important to his image. "How long will you be gone?"

I hedged. "I'll be sure I'm here for you, don't worry baby," I soothed. "What do you have going on today?" I prodded.

"Meetings, all day long," he sighed, pulling on another crisp white shirt.

"All day?" I moaned sympathetically. That was good.

"The New York office is visiting," he elaborated and I nodded enthusiastically.

"At least it's Friday," I smiled. "You don't have to work this weekend too, do you?"

He looked in the mirror, checking his profile as he straightened his tie. He looked pleased. My questions were making him feel important. This was good, it meant he'd keep talking and tell me how much time he'd be gone.

"The New York team may be staying the weekend." He chuckled. "They want me to give them a cheesesteak tour."

I smiled back, remembering the smell of perfume on his skin. "Be sure to take them to DeNic's too," I reminded him. "I think they're better than cheesesteaks."

He walked over to where I stood. My fists clenched, but he only brushed a quick kiss across my cheek. "That's a good idea. We'll show them the whole market."

I didn't realize I had been holding my breath until he left. "Have a good day!" I called to the empty room.

I stood in the middle of the room with my fists clenched. I scanned the room. It was all Robert's. Bought with his money and his name. Those things I had owned, the treasures I had rescued from my parents' home, those had been discarded. I had nothing.

Except...I ran over and pulled out the nightstand drawer, then breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the fat envelope still taped to the bottom. How much money would I have to start my life over again?

I leafed through the stack twice before laughing loudly into the empty room.

Four hundred and thirty eight dollars. It was all I had in the world.

Chapter 20.

J.

He was in the country. The air was fresh and clean and the noises of the city were replaced by the twittering of birds. The blond woman walked barefoot out onto the porch where he sat watching the trees sway in the wind. She smiled at him, her raspberry colored lips curving into a grin both sweet and wicked. He motioned for her to come to him and she leapt into his lap, resting her head on his shoulder. Her hair was soft and tickled his face. He brushed it away, laughing, knowing that there was nothing more he could ask for than what he had right then. He tipped her chin up and tasted those lips. The rush of desire that surged through him was so strong it caused him pain. He winced and groaned as she wiggled in his lap, positioning herself to make it easier for him. He was enveloped in warmth and softness, the likes of which he had never known. His groans came louder.

She punched him in the arm. Hard.

J. woke up cursing. "G.o.dd.a.m.nit, what the h.e.l.l?" he demanded, rubbing his sore arm.

Case looked alarmed. "I barely touched you, you p.u.s.s.y. You were freaking me out with all those noises you were making in your sleep." He looked down at the remnants of the dream still standing proudly in J.'s boxers and grinned pointedly.

J. grabbed his pillow and jammed it into his lap, wincing all the while. His arm was surprisingly sore. He rubbed the bruise quickly, but Case saw everything. "What'd you do to yourself?"

J. debated. Bringing women into the clubhouse was a delicate tightrope. He sucked in his breath, hoping he could trust his best friend not to ruin it. "The girl from the bar. Saw her again yesterday."

Case's blond eyebrows shot up so high they nearly disappeared into his hairline. "The chick with the great rack? Nice!" He looked at J.'s arm again. "Why'd she hit you? Dang, that's an ugly color."

J. chuckled. "I told her to. I was, ah, teaching her how to fight."

Case snorted, then looked surprised. "Oh you're serious? What's a little blond princess need to fight for?"

"To fend off a.s.sholes like you." J. felt a rush of defensiveness. He stood up from his bunk, still clutching the pillow to his groin, and stalked over to his cubby. Grabbing his shower pack, he turned towards the communal showers.

"The h.e.l.l got into you? I was just messing around." Case looked wounded and J. felt sudden remorse.

"Sorry man. It's just, she's not a princess like we thought. She got mixed up in some s.h.i.t that's turning out real bad." He thought for a minute. "I'm actually worried for her."

"Wow," Case whistled softly. "She's really got a hold of you. You guys even bang yet?"

J. laughed at his friend's ability to get to the point. "Haven't even banged yet," he echoed sarcastically.

All the mocking went out of Case's eyes. "Then she's something real. Got it. You tell me if you need backup." He extended his hand.

J. shifted the pillow into his left hand and grabbed his brother's hand with the right. "Thank you, you know I will."

Case held his gaze seriously for as long as he could, then smirked and started laughing. "I can't hold your hand when you've got a b.o.n.e.r, man. I love you and all, but that's where I draw the line."

"Aw f.u.c.k you, you're jealous and you know it."

"Saw you in the shower once. Really f.u.c.king wish I hadn't," Case grimaced and J. laughed loudly.

"That you Johnson?" Teach's voice floated from the front office.

"Yeah Teach, I'm up."

"How'd the delivery go?" The old man appeared in the doorway, a mug of steaming coffee in hand. J. could smell the whiskey he'd added and smiled.

"The guy was happy. Tipped me pretty well."

"And then you had yourself a nice day off I hope?"

"He got punched by a chick and he liked it," Case interjected. "J.'s got a new old lady." He laughed and ducked out of the way of J.'s smack.

Teach's eyebrows shot up. "You know the drill, J."

J. nodded. "The club has to agree. I got it." He sighed. "Can you f.u.c.kers at least sweep the place before I bring her by? Spray an air freshener or something? It smells like a wet ball sack in here."

Teach nodded then called over to the bunks where the sleeping forms of Crash and MacDougal still snored away. "Listen up! In an hour we hose this place down. Not your girl, J." he clarified. "The Storm Riders from down in Richmond are doing a long distance ride up to Maine and they contacted me to get permission to pa.s.s through. I invited them to party here tonight."

Case looked at J. excitedly. Crash popped up from his bunk like a jack-in-the-box. "We finally gonna have a proper f.u.c.king party around here? s.h.i.t! It's about time." He bounded from his bed, ignoring his stiff, scarred leg, and scurried over to where Teach was standing. "When're they coming?"

"Tonight, whenever they get here. I want the place in party shape. You know the drill. Sensitive s.h.i.t on lockdown. Fridges full. Ammo locked up." He nodded significantly at Case who snapped to attention.

"The Storm Riders, huh? Who're they?" J. ventured. Since he'd joined the Sons of Steel, they had kept pretty well to themselves and he was finding he preferred it that way. The less people in your circle, the less chances there were of them f.u.c.king you over.

"Support club out of Richmond. They support the Storm MC." Case whistled at the name. The Storm MC was the biggest club on the East Coast and their reputation was one of almost militant precision.

But that wasn't what concerned J. "They an integrated club?"

Teach nodded at the question. "They don't go in for that swastika, n.a.z.i s.h.i.t, if that's what you mean. They have a problem with you, they have a problem with me, they have a problem with all of us, right?"

Case and Crash both nodded, but J. was unconvinced. "I'm not dealing with any skinhead s.h.i.t in my territory." He could feel his fists balling instinctively. "They're coming to us, make sure they know that."

Teach nodded, his gray dreads swinging. "I wouldn't have invited them if I thought there'd be trouble. But I hear you." He turned to Case and Crash. "No getting s.h.i.tfaced tonight. We watch our backs."

Case nodded. Crash looked crestfallen, but nodded as well. MacDougal grunted in his bunk and raised his fist in understanding, then rolled back over to the wall.

"All right, one hour," Teach clapped his hands together like an elementary school teacher and the three men made to scatter. But Teach held J. by the arm. "Johnson. Your sister. She left another message. She was crying into the phone."

J. felt his blood run cold. "f.u.c.k," was his only reply.

Teach nodded. "I hope you're close to being able to deal with it. Because I'm honestly getting sick of her taking up all my tape."

"You could get voicemail and join the 21st century like the rest of us," J. pointed out. But Teach's eyes blazed at him and J. ducked his head at his mentor's fury. "Fine. Tomorrow. After the party."

"Good." The old man turned back to the front of the store. He had heard J. give his word and that meant it was law now. J. sighed and turned to the showers, hoping the hot water hadn't run out. Though a cold shower might help cool the fury that pumped through him like fire in his veins.

Chapter 21.

Emmy The woman behind the bar was ignoring me. "Excuse me?" I called, louder this time. I waved my hand to her, but she kept wiping the gla.s.ses and hanging them in the rack above her, her expression a million miles away.

Rosie's bar had just opened when the cab dropped me out front. In my panicked state, I had almost thought I was at the wrong place. It looked different in the daylight.

It had taken me longer to leave than I thought it would. I spent most of the morning turning circles in our bedroom, looking at everything for the last time. I had my backpack from my college days stuffed with a few pairs of underwear, my customized T-shirt along with a few more tops, and a pair of jeans. The four hundred and thirty eight dollars was st.i.tched into the lining of my handbag.

That was all I could take. All I felt ent.i.tled to take. All I wanted to take. Everything was tainted with the smell of Robert, the feel of Robert. Everything I saw reflected Robert's eyes in the mirror as he told me to watch while he raped me.

Thinking the word had made the strength go out of my legs and I had collapsed in the middle of the living room. The ceiling fan rotated slowly, high above, providing optimal airflow as it watched me gasp for breath. The ragged place inside my core throbbed.

When I finally found my strength again, I ran for the endtable and yanked the drawer out of its tracks. It clattered to the floor as I stabbed wildly at the b.u.t.tons on the fan remote. The fan sped up, slowed down and the jerked to a halt, reversing its course. I felt a whoosh of air hit my face and smiled grimly. f.u.c.k his airflow. I grabbed my backpack and hit the b.u.t.ton for the elevator with satisfaction.

When I walked through the lobby, I smiled and nodded to Officer Wilkens as if nothing was wrong. He gave a friendly wave back and called something to me. But I was too keyed up to stay and have a conversation.

I needed as much of a head start as I could get.

I hoped when Robert came home tonight, he wouldn't even notice what I had taken. I hoped he would wait angrily for me to get home, furiously clutching the fan remote. I pictured him sitting on the edge of our bed, dreaming of how he would punish me. But I would never come home. Slowly, he would realize he had gone too far.

And then a few days later he would get my letter. I patted my bag to make sure I had remembered it and heard the rea.s.suring crinkle in the outside pocket. I would put it in the mail today. I would tell him I was gone and to leave me alone. I was starting over again and he wasn't part of my life anymore.

I patted the bag over and over again as I raised my arm to summon the taxi that would drive me away from my penthouse prison. I tapped my foot on the pavement and laughed at the complete lack of cabs on the street. Of course. Unable to wait in front of the building, and aware that Officer Wilkens was watching, I turned downtown. I would start walking and find a cab to take me to the only place I knew to find J. Rosie's Cellar.

And now Rosie was ignoring me.

I squared my shoulders and walked directly into her line of sight. "Hi!" I said brightly, setting my handbag down on the bar and dropping my backpack to my feet. "Can I ask you a question?"

She looked at me with a neutral expression, until a flicker of recognition pa.s.sed over her face. "The boys ain't here, honey," she answered in her broad, flat accent, still wiping and putting away gla.s.ses.

I tamped down my annoyance. "I can see that. Can you tell me where I'd find them?"

"It's not even noon yet. Doubt they'd even be up."

I gritted my teeth. I didn't have much time. "Right, I know. Where do they live?"

"Seems like if they wanted you to know they would have told you, huh?"

I clenched my sore fists in frustration. She was protecting them, this was a good sign. It would make me harder to find. I decided to take another tact. "Please Rosie. I need their help. I'm in trouble."