Jake’s Silence Page 5

  I had been given to someone, yet again, and used as payment. I never did find out what it was for or how much I was worth to my seller, but there I was with another man who used me how he saw fit. I assumed my role as expected and took my days as they came until another guy showed up to claim his purchase, not caring that his middleman buyer had sampled his goods before delivery. He was a horrible man, my new owner, even though he was devastatingly handsome, and to my surprise, he hadn't purchased me for his sexual needs. He bought me to care for a child. A baby. His name was William, and he was the first child I had ever been around. We took to each other right away. His mother, like his father, was a terrible woman. Apparently, they had just gotten married and wanted a nanny of sorts to care for the little one. I didn't care. It was by far the best thing that could have happened.

  We spent most of our time in some fancy hotel until the man had to leave. That was when things started to get bad again. He was gone for two days before men showed up to take us away. We were brought to a small trailer, secluded in a densely-wooded forest surrounded by mountains. It was cold, and I was always so scared little William would get sick. I kept him in my room, as per his mother’s request. She never once held the baby, and always yelled for me to keep him quiet or that he smelled. Though, she wasn't like that when his father was around.

  It took four days before one of the men, Bull, started showing interest in me. Then it took him another four days to make his move. As usual, I blocked out the bad and found my safe place until it was over. He would leave me alone for a few days, then come after me again. It was always a cycle. Luckily, one that didn’t last long. The last time he tried to touch me, Ron, the other man tasked with watching us, caught him. Surprisingly, he pulled Bull off me and told him if he ever caught him with me again, he would kill him. Ron was always nicer to me, always grabbing things at the store I needed for William. I was grateful for him being there.

  The next day was an even bigger godsend. I remembered getting a bottle ready for William when I noticed a steak knife wedged into the side of the silverware drawer. Gripping the handle, I tugged it as hard as I could until it released with a snap, then tucked it into my back pocket, careful not to let it stab me. I continued my task, but was interrupted by a blood-curdling scream. Moments later, the door to the trailer swung wide open with Bull flying through it. Only, he wasn't moving normally. It took me a second to figure out he had been shot. I hadn't even heard a gun being fired. On instinct, I took out my knife while he flailed his arms, trying in vain to stand again, and didn't think twice. I plunged the knife directly into his neck, over and over again, until his massive body fell to the floor, unmoving. I stayed there on my knees, bodied knife in hand, staring in shock.

  That’s how Vin found me. Covered in blood wearing only a small tank top and jeans. He took William and me from that place, saying he was bringing us to William’s mother. At first, I was confused, but I didn’t ask questions. I was leaving that place with the most important person in the world to me—a boy whose name turned out to be Anthony. He had been taken from his mother by his father, Avil Cantrell, and Vin was returning him to her where he belonged.

  He brought both of us to a club in a town called Rhino, and that’s where I first saw him: Jake. He was stepping out of a large black truck, dark hair cropped close on the sides, leaving the top just barely long enough to run his fingers through. His face was only slightly covered in stubble, and his Hell’s Riders MC cut was worn proudly on his back. The cut read: Prospect. He was new to the life. I had only heard stories about it, being too little to understand what it was. But I did know my father was good friends with a member of a club. At the time, though, I didn't know which one it was, or if he was dead like my dad.

  Vin instructed Jake to take us to Cental, to give Ellie her son back, and it broke my heart. I knew I was going to be separated from the boy I had grown so attached to. I loved him, and contemplated running away with him during the ride to Cental, but decided against it. That poor woman missed her son, and I had no means to care for the child. It was a really stupid idea.

  Then, when Jake dropped Anthony off with his mother, he told me the entirety of what Vin wanted him to do. I was to stay with Jake for a while until Ellie got to know her son, then I was to be brought back to live with them. He wasn't being taken away from me, and I wasn't being tossed aside. I was getting a family.

  For days, I was glued to Jake’s side. We went to stay at another club, though it went by the same name. I stayed quiet and kept to myself in Jake’s room, unless I was with him. One night, when I woke up from a nightmare, I found him holding me, comforting me, telling me everything was going to be okay. Ever since that night, instead of sleeping on the floor, he would sleep in the bed with me. Always in his jeans and over the covers, being thoughtful of my boundaries. After time though, I wanted to be closer—found myself thinking about him more and more each day. We talked some, watched a lot of movies, and he got me out of the shell I had carefully constructed around myself.

  Then the day came when I woke to feel him pulling my body into his. His arm wrapped around me, stroking me, gripping me, his hardness grinding into me as he breathed in my hair. The usual feeling of dread didn't creep into my thoughts. I was suddenly filled with need—a need I had never once felt before. I followed that need and turned to face him. His eyes were still closed, and that was when I heard him whisper it: Key. My body seemed to light on fire and I pressed into him as close as I could. Then, deciding to be bolder, I placed my lips on his, and it was like something ignited between us. His hands roamed my body, touching my heated flesh as he responded. Opening his mouth, he dueled his tongue with my own. A long moan escaped as a wave of pleasure took over my body, and it was like a wake-up call to him. Suddenly, he was throwing himself off me and storming out the door. He came back later, and in a gruff voice, told me to pack my things. That day, he broke my heart for the first time.

  The second time Jake broke my heart was months later, after I had turned seventeen. Vin and Ellie had come home to Anthony and me after having been put through even more shit by the same man they thought was dead: Avil. Now, though, he was dead—killed by Ellie herself. I was happy to hear the news, but devastated to find out Jake had been hurt. Shot. He’d had on a bulletproof vest, but the bullet shattered and a piece lodged in his neck. Causing his voice to be forever silenced.

  When I walked outside our house and found him getting ready to ride away without so much as a goodbye, I was furious. He wouldn't budge, though, and just drove away, taking my heart with him as he left.

  I told myself there wouldn't be a third.

  My phone goes off, alerting me to a text. Picking it up, I don’t recognize the number, but as soon as I open it, I know exactly who it is.

  Jake: Like your hair in a long braid down your back, but even better today when it was flowing in the wind. I will see you soon.

  The smile that spreads along my face stays there until I fall asleep.

  Nine

  Kimi

  The next day, during my second class, the mood shifts and everything seems to be getting better. It was found out that a professor was sleeping with one of his students, so that took the heat away from me for a bit. I feel bad for the person, but only a little. If that makes me horrible, I don’t care. Now, though, as I'm ready to leave and go back to the dorms, I'm confronted by the two people I’ve been trying to avoid. Stopping to grab a quick drink from the fountain, the small hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and a cold, dull chill rolls down my spine. “Well, look who it is, Seven, a lost little Indian princess,” Blake says, followed by Zeke’s bitter laugh.

  “Hey, princess. You got lucky the other night. Next time you won’t be so lucky.” He’s close—close enough for me to feel his breath on my cheek as I stop holding down the water button. “Next time you won’t have that fucking meathead to save you. That pussy of yours is going to be so damn…” his words fade as someone yanks him away. Pushing my f
ear to the side, I look up to see Jake holding Zeke against the wall, knife pressed firmly to his exposed throat.

  “Fuck. Let him go, ass…” Blake’s shouting dies as he realizes who has a hold of his friend. Not being far from Cental, people around here have seen a biker or two in their lifetime. If they haven’t, they’ve been living under a rock. “Hey, man. We didn't mean anything by it. Just let him down and we’ll be on our way. We won’t bother her again,” the guy whines, but it falls on deaf ears.

  “What he said, man. Promise,” Zeke whimpers out.

  “Jake…” Reaching up to the arm holding the knife, I gently rest my hand on his forearm and squeeze slightly. “Jake, let him go. I don’t want you going to prison for killing a piece of shit like him,” I say as calmly as I can. It takes a moment, but Jake finally looks down at me, his wide eyes still full of anger. I can tell he wants to say something, but I just shake my head. “I'm fine. Just let them go. Please.” He’s reluctant as he pulls his arm away from Zeke’s neck, but he doesn't let him fully go. No, because he’s a Rider, he needs to send his message, and it happens so fast, I don’t even see it coming. Rearing forward, Jake slams his head directly into Zeke’s, effectively knocking the asshole out. His limp body drops to the floor in a heap, then Jake turns to Blake, still standing there witnessing his friend’s lack of consciousness. Slowly, Jake raises the hand holding the knife, and in a silent warning, he points the blade straight at Blake. His face instantly goes white, and he looks like he’s about to pass out.

  I hold back my smile at his cowardliness and grab Jake’s unoccupied arm, tugging it just enough to get my point across. “Jake…” I try to say, but before I can say anything further, I'm brought into his embrace and kissed. Not just kissed—owned. He’s staking his claim on me, sending out the message that I’m his and if anyone fucks with me, they fuck with the club. Seconds after it starts, it stops, making me want more. When Jake pulls away, he wastes no time tugging me to his bike. I have no words, nor do I want to try to use any as we walk—no, stalk over to his motorcycle. Without a sound or gesture, he grabs a helmet from his saddle bag and hands it over for me to put on. I go to do so, but stop, realizing it isn't the same one from yesterday. This one has more coverage going all the way down to the back of my head. It also has something on it: a shiny black raven over the matte finish of the helmet. “This is beautiful, Jake,” I tell him, placing it over my head.

  He gives me a chin tip and starts his bike up, the roar of the engine making my chest rumble right along with it. I slip my leg over the side and settle myself behind his hard body, not even giving a second glance to where we came from. Wrapping my arms around him, I hold tight as we fly out of the parking lot, the cool air whipping around us.

  We drive for only a few minutes before we pull up to a long building. Only when I get off and put my helmet away do I realize where we are. “Strikers Lane” is written in bold lettering on the front, along with some white pins being knocked away by a giant black bowling ball. “Bowling? Really? Oh my gosh, Jake, this is so cool!” Unable to hold my excitement back, I jump on the man, wrapping my arms around his neck and hugging him close. I almost don’t expect him to hug me back, but when he does, it makes this surprise that much better.

  “Go in,” he whispers into my ear before he pulls away, snaking his fingers into mine to lead the way. I'm vibrating as we walk through the door and the smell of pizza hits my nose. Instantly, my stomach growls. I didn't realize I was that hungry. The place is quiet. My brow draws in as Jake bypasses the bowling part of the place, but smooths out when I realize he’s moving toward the small tables set up opposite the lanes. He pulls out a seat for me, and we are greeted by an older woman with graying hair.

  “What can I get you two kids today? Planning on doing some bowling or just here for the best pizza in town?” she asks with a genuine smile, wrinkles forming around the corners of her eyes. I look over to Jake, and he gives me a chin tip, telling me to get what I want.

  “Here for both. Can we get a large pepperoni and two cokes, please?”

  “Good, good. You want me to set up a lane for you while you wait?”

  “That would be great. Thank you.”

  “Shoes are over there. The balls are along the wall. I will set you up in lane six, right here in front of your table.” She shoots us both a sweet smile, then walks off to the back.

  “Shall we?” I ask, my grin still not wavering. The memory of what happened earlier is long gone from my mind as we tread to where the shoes are located. I find my size, and go sit down on the bench to get my black and white chucks off. Slipping into the weird shoes, I look up to see Jake sitting down unlacing his boots. I must be staring a little too long, watching as he pulls his foot from the heavy leather boot, because when I look up at his face, I find him giving me one of his smirks. Even now, with the scruff on his face and the longish hair on his head, he still stalls my breath.

  “Ready?” he whispers, his smirk tugging into something bigger.

  “Yeah. I'm ready,” I tell him, holding his gaze, my meaning going farther than just bowling. The moment passes quickly when he breaks his stare and gets up to look for a ball. I follow him out onto the floor, the shoes feeling strange to walk in as I go.

  The balls are lined up in rows upon rows on wooden dowel shelves. There are so many, I don’t even know where to start. “What kind do I need? Oh, this one is pretty,” I say, pointing to a pink ball swirled with black, and Jake pulls it off the shelf. He studies it for a moment, then puts it back, shaking his head no. He grabs a couple more, then settles on a bright solid blue one, holding it out for me to put my fingers into. “Which ones?” I ask, and he shows me, bringing up his first two fingers and thumb silently explaining where to put them.

  “Grab hold,” he says, visibly swallowing. I get caught up in watching his throat bob up and down before I scold myself and do as instructed, putting my fingers into the holes of the heavy ball. It doesn't seem too heavy, but the holes feel huge.

  “It feels weird,” I say as he takes it back.

  “This weight.” He nods at the ball, then tips his chin toward the wall of balls. “Get one,” he tells me, taking the blue ball and putting it back on the shelf.

  I venture off away from him in search of a ball, trying out the holes first to see if they feel right. It takes me a couple tries, but I find one. A red one with black swirls. I like it.

  “Found it!” I turn, shouting down to him at the far end of the shelves. He shoots me a smile and holds up a basic black ball. He found his too. “Game on.” I give him a sly grin even though I really don’t know what the hell I am doing. We walk over to our lane and get the game started. First, he shows me where to stand and how to toss the ball, being sure not to cross the line. It takes a couple tries, but I get the hang of it. His shoulders slightly bob up and down with silent laughter as I land my ball in the gutter again. “Something funny?” I ask as he comes up to take his turn. His shoulders jolt a little more and he shakes his head.

  “Should have the gutter wall up,” he jokes.

  “Trying to be funny, huh?” I say, getting close to him and poking him in the stomach. The hard planes hurt my finger more than my jabs probably hurt him. “Pizza is here. Let’s go eat.” Leaving him to his shot, I go right to the pizza, grabbing a slice. I'm so hungry, I don’t even care how hot it is and burn my tongue. Dropping it back down onto the pan, I take a quick sip of my coke in an attempt to stave off the pain. It doesn't work. Before I can take another, I feel him behind me, until my whole body is filled with heat.

  “Hot?” he asks, still visibly laughing. Only, this time, it’s at my pain.

  “Nope, dig right in,” I lie, his quirked eyebrow telling me he can see right through me. “I might be bad at this game, but this is really fun, thank you,” I tell him, getting a smile in return. Looking up at the scoreboard hanging from the ceiling, I have to squint to see, and even then, it’s hard.

  “Key?” Jake questions. When I l
ook over he has deep frown on his face. “Can you see?” he asks, sounding concerned.

  “Oh. Ah, yeah. Well. It’s blurry sometimes. Comes and goes.” I wave it off, but his scowl stays in place. “It’s fine,” I tell him with a smile, trying to be reassuring, but it falls short. I know he isn’t convinced, but he continues eating his pizza anyway, leaving it be.

  We finish our pizza and play another game. Needless to say, I lose that one too. I have fun, though, and my score improved in the second round. Now, back on Jake’s bike, we ride through town, flying past the people who give us dirty looks for passing them. When we pull up into a small crowded strip mall parking lot, I’m about to ask what we are doing when I see why. He brought me to an eye doctor.

  “Jake. Seriously? I told you I could see. Why did you bring me here?” I pout as he gets off his bike and takes my helmet from my head, placing it into his saddlebag along with his.

  “Don’t want to hear it, Key,” he grumbles before taking my hand and pulling me toward the door. My protests stop when we get inside. The place is quiet, and there are rows of glasses lined up along one side of the room.