Chapter Eight
Alex
TROY IS SITTING in the backseat with me. Today he’s got Carver, one of his assholes, driving, so there’s no way in hell I can attempt to escape the vehicle. I’d try it and not give a shit if I got hurt or died in my escape. It would be better than anything with Troy is going to be. As soon as the door closed behind him after shoving me in the backseat, he slammed his fist into the side of my head, making me fall to the floor between the two seats. He screamed and yelled at me, spittle flying all over the place in his fit of rage.
I turned my attention to look out the back window where the police cars were following us. Even though I couldn’t see Reaper, I know he’s behind us and want to be with him more than anything in the world. I’m not stupid enough to believe Troy wouldn’t tear his entire club to the ground with the help of my father. Troy doesn’t want me looking out the window toward Reaper, though. He yanks my hair again and slams my face into the window of my door.
“Listen here, you little slut. You will never see these men again. They’ll all be lucky not to end up behind bars by the time I’m done with them,” he growls out, holding my face against the window as tears of pain and thoughts of Reaper fall from my eyes.
He finally let's go, and I keep my face against the window. I know if I move an inch, Troy is going to hurt me continuously until we get where we’re going. Closing my eyes, I imagine still being in bed with Reaper as his hard, warm body consumes me. He’s the only man to ever make me believe he truly cares what happens to me and wants to protect me for me. Not have something to do with me because of who my father is and what it could possibly mean for him.
For whatever time I have left on Earth, Reaper is the man I’ll think of. Whenever I need to get lost in my head to not feel the pain being inflicted on me, I’ll see him riding his bike, the freedom of riding on the back of his bike with my body wrapped around his, and the way he made me feel when I was underneath him. Anytime Reaper has his hands on me is a time I’ll cherish and remember for as long as I still have left to live. Troy can’t ever take that from me, no matter what he does or says.
Carver pulls up to a hotel a few towns over. I’ve been staring at the scenery as it passes by without saying a word as silent tears roll down my face. Troy hasn’t said another word to me either. I can almost imagine I’m on my own. Almost. The anger and tension in Troy’s body fill the interior of the car. It’s the only reason I know he’s with me. In my mind, I’ve imagined killing him, or at the very least, hurting him in multiple different ways. I’ll more than likely never get a chance to put any plans I form into place, but the thoughts make me happy. Or as happy as I’ll ever be in the presence of the demon known as my husband.
Troy must already have rooms here because we bypass the check-in desk when Carver lets us out in front of the expensive-looking place. I loathe these hotels, if I’m being honest. Luxury has never mattered to me, even though the people in my life insist on nothing less. He leads me to a room and demands I get in the shower to wash the biker scum from my body. On top of spending time inside the clubhouse, Troy’s convinced I had sex with every man in the club from the second I stepped through the doors. It’s not the truth, but I’m not about to argue with him. At this point, I’ll savor being alone without this man anywhere near me.
I’m not stupid. This is only a brief stop on our way back home. Somewhere I can shower and change, so he doesn’t have to be anywhere near whatever those men left on me. His words, not mine. Home is a place I want to be as much as I like being on the run. The only difference is when I was on the run, I had the freedom to do what I wanted, eat what I wanted, and dress how I wanted. Now, Troy will once again control every single aspect of my life. It’s how it's been for the past two years, and I’m over it.
Stripping out of my clothes, I leave them in a pile on the floor. Turning on the shower, I stare at myself in the mirror while waiting for the water to heat up a little bit. Troy did a real number on me. My face is already sporting a bruise from where he punched me. I turn from the mirror and step into the shower. I’m not going to have much time to wash, shave, and do what I have to before Troy storms the bathroom and drags me out. It’s the only reason I didn’t attempt to lock the door. It will only piss him off even more than he already is.
The bathroom door flies open as soon as I’m out of the shower after making sure I am clean and shaved to Troy’s specifications. I don’t even have enough time to grab a towel to cover my body as Troy storms inside the room. He takes his time looking at me. It’s not long before he begins shaking his head at the look of my body. He’s not impressed, it seems. Though he’s never been impressed with how I look, so it’s nothing new for him to talk shit to me and try to beat me down about how I look.
“You’ve let yourself go, Alejandra. I’m going to get an outfit sent up here for you to put on before we head home. I expect you to be ready to go by the time I get back,” he orders me, his voice low and lethal.
I’ve never heard his voice sound like this before.
“What, you need to get laid before you kidnap me?” I question him, knowing it’s the wrong move to make.
The backhand landing across my face is done with more force than usual. Troy has always made sure he never leaves marks before today. I guess it doesn’t really matter to him at this point. Before I can take a breath or fully process what’s happened, he digs his manicured fingers into my scalp, pulling my hair.
“You don’t ever fucking question me. The only reason I’m taking you back is that we need you to finalize a deal, and you need to be taught a lesson about sticking your nose in other people’s business. If you think I won’t fucking gut you where you stand, you’re dead wrong. Now, do what the fuck I said. Don’t try to escape either. Carver will be right outside the door,” he says, giving me a disgusted look before throwing me to the marble floor.
Troy leaves me alone in the bathroom, and I continue to lay on the floor for a few minutes. When the pain in my head subsides a little bit, I stand up and try to find a way to get out of this room and away from my husband. There’s no way I can go back with him. Not only do they want to kill me, but now I’m supposed to be around to finalize some sort of deal. I don’t even want to know what the fuck that entails. Knowing even a small fraction of what my father and husband do, this deal I’m somehow involved in is nothing I want to do. There are simply too many possibilities of what they could want from me, though.
Knowing Carver is standing outside the door means I can’t go that way. Carver is Troy’s right-hand man, so he’ll report any move I make back to my husband. Walking over to the row of large windows, I notice the balcony to the left of the window. There’s barely a ledge to stand on, and we’re six floors up. Anything less than that is not good enough for Troy or my parents. I’m internally debating whether or not I can get out the window and over to the balcony next door without falling or alerting anyone to where I went. A knock sounds on the door, causing me to jump. It must be whoever is bringing up the outfit for me to where home.
On my way to the door, I pass a mirror and glance at my reflection. I gasp when I see more bruises forming and wonder what the fuck I’m supposed to do now. Quickly tugging the towel out of my hair, I pretend to be drying that side of my face as I slowly open the door.
The woman standing there pushes her way past Carver after looking at me and tells him she’s going to help me with my hair and make-up as Troy requested. Carver isn’t smart enough to question an order from his boss. He blindly follows along without a care in the world as long as he continues to get paid the generous wage from my husband. He nods his head in response and closes the door behind her. Taking one look at me, she puts her fingers against her lips in the universal signal to tell me to be quiet.
“I’m going to help you get out of here. I could see the bruises the second you opened the door,” she whispers, leading me further into the room.
“I can’t have you do that. He’ll come after you,” I reply, taking in the way she’s put together in an expensive outfit with her hair perfectly done and flawless make-up covering her face.
“I can handle myself. Trust me,” she says, trying to convince me she can actually help me.
The feeling I get in my gut tells me she’s not here to help me at all. Looking closer at her, I notice her hair is messed up in the back, and her dress is slightly askew. This woman just fucked around with Troy, and now she’s offering to help me get away from him. It’s a damn setup if I ever saw one.
“Can I have the outfit, please?” I ask, knowing I have no choice but to get ready to leave with him.
“You don’t need this if I’m gonna help you get away,” she tries to move the clothing bag further from my reach.
“You’re not, though. You have an agenda, and it’s not going to work. I’m guessing when he went down to pick out my outfit, you got a little ‘extra’ from him. He’s not gonna make you his. I’m his wife, and he has plans for me,” I tell her, shoving her toward the door while grabbing the bag from her hands.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she huffs.
“You think you’re the first woman he’s fucked since marrying me? He brought them into my home and then moved his pregnant mistress in. So, you can leave now,” I say, opening the door and shoving her into Carver.