Page 52 of Beautifully Wounded

But then, is that right? Some things Smitty said made me think Ringo didn’t have sex with anyone.

“Last is the old ladies.” He continues. “They are the property of a club member. Owned by them, and therefore off limits to anyone else. Old ladies get treated with more respect. They have the protection of the club at all times, and some members make them their wives, while others have a wife on the outside of the club, and an old lady on the inside.”

My mouth drops open at that. The entire meaning behind an old lady sounding dreadful. Well, I guess except for the respect part and the club protection.

“Which part about that is shocking?” Ringo asks, smirking at my reaction, and I snap my mouth closed and shrug.

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the part about being property. Owned. Or maybe the part about being the other woman to a married man.”

He chuckles. “It’s not always the case that a member has both a wife and an old lady. But it does happen, and I can assure you, both women know about each other most of the time.”

I scoff. “And you think it’s alright for a man to own a woman like a possession?”

“Yes.” He answers faster than I’d like, and I get a sinking feeling deep inside my chest.

Stop thinking he’s a good guy, Abbey. He’s a criminal.

“I see you don’t like my response.” He chuckles, tilting his head to study me further.

“No, I don’t like your response. As someone that was about to be forced into marrying a monster, only to be owned by him, I absolutely do not like your response.”

His smile slips away, and his expression turns serious. “Shit. Angel, I’m sorry. You’re right. A woman should not be someone’s property.”

The familiar feeling of threatening tears pricks at my eyes, and I will them to hold off. I’m sick of appearing weak. Helpless. Naïve.

“Don’t pretend to mean that for my sake. I’m nothing more than a job you’re doing for someone else’s agenda. I haven’t forgotten why I’m here.”

The neutral expression that masks him now hints at no emotions or reaction to my words. If anything, I’d say the closest emotion affecting him right now is indifference.

“You’re right.” He holds out his hand. “My phone.”

I hesitate for a moment. For some stupid reason, I don’t like the chill that’s just settled between us. Which makes no sense. We are strangers. He’s lived through years of experience in this world, and I am yet to find any semblance of hope or happiness coming my way. I know nothing of what lies out there in the real world. I only know the vile dark acts that have been forced on me, my life always at someone else’s mercy.

Slowly, I reach into the hoodie pocket and pull out the phone, noticing a number of missed calls before I reach out and place it in his hand.

His gaze dismisses me instantly, turning to the phone as he curses under his breath, standing while he taps on the screen and then holds the phone to his ear.

Then he starts pacing.

“It’s me,” he says into the phone, pausing as whoever it is speaks before he responds. “It’s okay. I got her. She’s safe.”

I straighten at his words, realising that the call he was waiting for had to do with me.

Who’s on the other end?

“Honestly? Worse than you thought. Not a good situation at all. It’s lucky we went in when we did.”

I stand, approaching him slowly as I listen, and when he turns in his pacing, his eyes find mine.

“She was a bit cut up, more self-inflicted in an attempt to protect herself, but other than that and her distressed state, she seemed okay. I did notice some bruising on her arms and her face.”

He drops his eyes as he listens to whoever is speaking and then spins and steps outside to take the rest of the call.

My heart races as he closes me off from the conversation. I want to hear it. I want to know who it is, so without thinking, I hurry to the door and tug it open in time to hear his words.

“She’ll need to be relocated after the snap lockdown. She’s not safe here.”

I can’t contain my gasp, and he spins, glaring at me as he points over my shoulder back into the room.

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