Page 6

CHAPTER

FIVE

Rayleigh

One week after being found

“It’s time to wake up, sweetheart.” I hear the comforting voice that sang to me last night say. Well, I think it was last night, but I’m not really sure of how much time has passed since I was last. conscious.

“Am I dead?” I wonder out loud, my voice a slight pitch above a whisper.

“No, love, you’re not,” the voice replies.

I’m shocked that I’m able to open my eyes; I recall Enoch’s fists flying toward my face and know that both of them were pretty much swollen shut. Listening carefully, I don’t hear sounds to indicate I’m in the hospital. Besides that, the bed is far too comfortable and I’m sure the thick comforter that encases me isn’t something a medical facility would us.

“H-h-hello? Is anyone there?” I rasp out. My throat is dry yet sore, making me wince as the pain travels through me.

Hearing no response, I scan cautiously around the room. The bed I’m in is humongous; not that I’m particularly big especially since I haven’t been well-nourished in a very long time. I know I’m probably twenty to thirty pounds underweight because all my bones protrude, from the ones in my wrists to my ribs as well as my hips. I cringe thinking about how awful I must look to someone else. Not that I’m vain by any stretch of the imagination, but still, knowing that I resemble a raggedy scarecrow hurts for some reason.

Carefully, I move to a sitting position, amazed when I’m able to do so with little discomfort. Based on prior experience with my parents, I know Enoch’s kicks to my torso either cracked or broke several ribs, yet I can breathe without any issues. What on Earth happened to me that I don’t feel as though I was hit by a Mack truck? Better yet, how long was I out that I barely hurt?

“I don’t understand,” I mumble, still looking around to figure out where I ended up. The last thing I remember was snow falling on me as I lay crumpled on the ground. I should be dead. Why am I still alive?

The unending questions pouring through my brain are giving me a headache. Deciding to explore a bit, I ease myself off the bed, smiling when I’m able to stand upright. There are three doors in the room and I’m hoping one is a bathroom because my bladder has realized we’re awake. I see evidence that at some point, I must have had an IV, but it’s no longer in use. The first door I check has jeans, t-shirts, and long-sleeved Henleys hanging up, along with several coats. Several different kinds of helmets are on the shelves above the racks. The second door opens into a bathroom that has me practically drooling in envy. The walls are done in white tile with alternating black inserts, giving it a retro feel like those old timey diners I’ve seen on television. There’s a walk-in shower that’s big enough for four or five people, as well as a huge tub.

It’s been so long since I’ve been totally clean. I wish I was able to use both the shower and the tub, but not knowing where I’m at keeps me from doing so. I finally spot the toilet which is tucked in the corner complete with its own fan and door. Snickering, I move as quickly as possible and hurriedly take care of business. While washing my hands, I look in the mirror.

Deep purple circles under my sunken eyes have me wincing. I can see a white line near my temple that goes down to my jaw and realize it’s the gash Enoch left on when his ring smashed into my face. “But how is it healed?” I question.

I gaze down at myself and notice several things at once; I’m wearing clothes that are way too big for me, I’m cleaner than I’ve been in a long time, the arm that was obviously broken is totally healed, several gashes and cuts are also no longer evident except for the faint white scars.

“I must still be out of it and dreaming,” I mutter. “There’s no way I’m whole again.” Well, as whole as I can be with the scars as a reminder of my shitty life. In addition to the new ones that Enoch added to my body, I bear the evidence of my parents’ so-called love, although those marks are mostly confined to places that are not easily seen.

Hearing a noise coming from the bedroom, I begin to shake as my heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of my chest. “You can’t stay in here forever, Rae,” I scold my mirror image. “No matter what or who’s behind that door, it can’t be worse than what you’ve already apparently survived.”

Taking a deep breath, I open the door and come face-to-face with the most handsome man I’ve ever seen.

“H-h-hello,” I stammer out, looking up at him. He’s practically a giant compared to me, yet I don’t feel as if I’m in danger. Quite the opposite, actually. I feel safe, protected, secure for the first time in my life.

He clears his throat a few times then says, “Been worrying that you were never gonna wake up.”

“H-h-how long have I been sleeping?”

“A week,” he replies.

“There’s no way!” I exclaim. “I know one of my arms was broken, and likely a few ribs too. Those don’t heal in a week. Surely, you’re mistaken.”

“Nope. One week ago, I picked you up from the side of the road and brought you back here.”

“Where’s here? I’m definitely not in a hospital.”

“My clubhouse. The Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club,” he states.

I force myself to hide the shiver that wants to take over my body at his words. I’ve heard of his club; they’re known to be ruthless in their dealings so hearing that I’m in their clubhouse has me wondering if I’ve gone from the proverbial frying pan straight into the fire. While I wasn’t allowed out and about as a rule, my parents always told me to stay away from bikers because they did bad things to people. Although I haven’t been around him for very long, I don’t get the impression he does anything like that to folks unless they deserve it.

“I didn’t know y’all were in this area,” I murmur. When I realize I’m wobbly, I continue. “I’m sorry, I need to sit down or something. I guess I’m not back to one hundred percent yet.”

Instead of moving aside, he merely picks me up, then deposits me on the bed. After that, he drags the covers up and over me. “We need to talk but first, let me get you something to eat. Any allergies?”

I shake my head then say, “Not that I know of, anyhow.”

“Be back in a few minutes, Sprite.” He looks at me once more before heading out of the door I didn’t check earlier, leaving me to my own thoughts.

From the familiar way he traversed around the room, I determine that this must be his personal space. Hell, I’m in his bed. Since the other side is still neatly made, I surmise that I’ve been by myself which raises yet another question in my mind. Where has he been sleeping if I’ve been tucked in his bed while healing?

How did he know where I was, and how did he find my exact location in the snowstorm? What about Enoch? Will he come looking for me if he realizes I’m still alive? How about my parents? Not that I give one shit about them seeing as they sold me off to Enoch to get out from under what they owed him, but it’s still one of those questions that’s swirling in my head.

I’m no closer to any answers when the man walks back inside with a tray. I can see steam rising from a bowl as my stomach starts growling. As a blush tinges my cheeks, I avoid making eye contact with him, embarrassed that my body is betraying me, and giving away the secret of his effect on me

“Don’t look away from me, there’s no reason to feel ashamed or awkward. You’re bound to be hungry seeing as you’ve been out of commission for a week. We finally got Doc to come in and hook up an IV so you wouldn’t become dehydrated.”

Shrugging, I sit up more as he sets the tray in front of me. “This smells wonderful,” I whisper, appreciating the aromatic scent. It’s actually more food than I’ve ever had offered to me at one sitting. An overly abundant bowl of what looks like homemade chicken noodle soup, two thick pieces of bread that has been substantially buttered, a container of Jell-O, a cup of what looks like apple juice, as well as a bottle of water.

“One of the brothers enjoys cooking, so he’s put a pot of soup on every morning in the hopes you’d wake up. He claims his grandmother’s recipe will cure whatever ails you. Just eat what you can, I imagine your stomach isn’t going to hold a whole lot. While you’re doing that, I’ll tell you what I know, okay?”

I nod while bringing the bread to my mouth. Biting into the crusty, yet soft bread, has me moaning out loud. “Oh, this is so good!”

He chuckles before growing serious again. “First things first. I didn’t introduce myself. My name’s Brick, and I’m the President of the Roanoke, Virginia chapter of the Royal Bastards Motorcycle Club. We’ve just patched into the club this past week and were having a celebratory party when one of the members from another chapter told me I had drop everything to find you stat.”

With eyebrows raised suspiciously, I ask, “How would he have known about me?”

“He didn’t. His grandmother, who has some unique, divine abilities, called and told him it was urgent we find you. When we finally located you, it became obvious to all of us why it was crucial we tracked you down because you were hovering at death’s door.”

I must raise my brow higher into my forehead or something because he nods as if to affirm the words he just said. “I still don’t totally understand, I guess. But I’m not very bright, or at least that’s what my parents used to tell me.” My voice is quiet, almost submissive in tone because of how I’ve been raised to be seen but not heard.

The glower that comes over his face has me cringing in fear. I never speak unless asked a direct question; I’ve learned valuable lessons the hard way for not following that directive. So why did I feel it was okay to do it right now, with him?

“Never gonna lift a hand to you, hit you, or any woman for that matter, Sprite. But I can’t have you putting yourself down that way, it’s unacceptable. I’m giving you a lot of information and leeway seeing as you just woke up after a near-death experience, so you not grasping it all at once is understandable. Now, what can I call you?”

“Rayleigh,” I reply while attempting to open the bottle of water, but my shaky hands prevent me from getting a tight enough grip to twist off the plastic cap.

He hurriedly reaches out, takes the bottle from my quivering hold, the pliable bottle seems so small in his masculine hands, and quickly opens the top before handing it back to me.

A faint smile crosses my face when he finishes. The kindness he’s already shown me is far more than I can ever remember in my life. “Thank you. I’m being one hundred percent honest though, Brick. I didn’t finish school; my education level is subpar at best.”

“A lot of people dropped out of school, Rayleigh, doesn’t make them less smart than others. Why didn’t you finish?” he asks.

As shame courses through me, I remind myself that what happened to me wasn’t my fault. “When I was a little girl, too many teachers noticed I was what they called “neglected”. After multiple reports of malnutrition to child services, my parents freaked out and unenrolled me from school.”

“Do you remember how old you were when that happened?”

I close my eyes while I go through my memories, reliving key points in my life like they’re listed in order on a Rolodex. “If my recollection is correct, it’d be the fifth grade? Maybe the fourth? I don’t know with exact certainty, Brick, to be honest with you.” Something else comes to mind and I blurt out, “I don’t even know when my birthday is!”

I can see the anger welling up in him with my abrupt confession because now he knows I’ve never celebrated my birthday, never had a party, never got a fucking gift. He takes a few deep breaths, likely to calm himself before he states, “I’ll see what Hawg can find out for you because everyone should know when they were born. As for right now, you’re free from them and we’re going to help you anyway we possibly can. First, however, I need a name.“”

“A name?” I gave him my name; does he think I’m lying to him? I’ve been steadily sipping on my meal as we talk, and find I’m getting full, despite only eating half the giant-sized bowl of soup.

“Yeah, of the dead motherfucker who hurt you, then dumped you on the side of the road like you were no better than trash.”

Now, with him bringing up my torturer, I feel as though I’m going to throw up everything I’ve just eaten, so I convulsively swallow until the feeling passes. As fear engulfs me, and I begin to shake, and I find my eyes growing misty. “What if he finds out I’m still alive?” I lower my voice to where it comes out as a whisper, fearful that someone else might hear us.

“Oh, he’s going to know, right before I end his miserable existence,” Brick promises. “My brothers and I will ensure that before he draws his last breath, he feels every bit of pain you did, sweetheart.”

I’m not sure if I like him calling me sprite or sweetheart better, I just know that when he does so, I feel flutters dancing in my stomach. Never having had that happen before, I don’t know how to act. Finally, I decide to provide him with the information he’s asking for.

“So, my parents owed him money they didn’t have. They gave me to him to pay their debt.” When he goes to reply, I hold up my hand to stop him. “My home life wasn’t great either, Brick. How Enoch treated me was nothing new at all. My parents may not have gone to the extremes that he did, but I’m no stranger to their brand of love and affection.”

I have no clue why I feel so darned comfortable around him that I’m spewing responses out which are somewhat sassy. This is so not me, but I can’t stop.

“Bruises, broken bones, cuts and gashes, those were my everyday experiences,” I mutter, shame engulfing me once again at how pitiful I must sound to this huge man. “Little to no food, locked in my room whenever they’d leave, sometimes for days at a time. That’s what I’m used to, Brick.”

“Not anymore, Rayleigh.” His voice vibrates, sounding close to an animalistic growl, low and husky, and I can see his fists clenched at his sides as he physically reacts at my words. “You will never be hurt like that ever again. We’re going to find this fucker and end his life, then we’re going after your parents. People like them don’t deserve to breathe air. Now, I’m going to meet with my brothers so we can work out a plan. You need anything before I go?”

I shake my head, sleep calling me after filling my belly. “I may want to take a bath later, but I’m not sure what I can change into.”

“I’ll find you something you can wear if you’d like.”

A thought I had earlier comes back to me, so I ask, “Who cleaned me up after I was found?”

“I did.”