Page 28 of Liberator

She shrugged and replied, “I like to shop. The computer had become my best friend.”

“You spent a lot of your money on this dress. I promise to be careful about spilling anything on it,” I said.

“It’s my gift to you, chica. I’m too curvy for it. Sit so I can fix your face,” she commanded with a flick of her hand to prevent me from thanking her.

By the time she’d finished with my face and hair the woman in the mirror was unrecognizable. I felt and looked like a little girl playing dress-up.

“This isn’t me,” I complained.

“It’s the new you. You just don’t know it yet. You’re not the abused, frightened girl anymore. We’ve changed you. You’re tougher, meaner, and a full-fledged woman. You’re badass, though not nearly as much as me. Let yourself feel it and believeit. Once you walk the walk you’ll understand. Give me some attitude!” Flame demanded.

“I’ll try that once I learn to walk in these damn heels without breaking my neck, and after we’ve made it out of here without being detected,” I answered.

“Have a little faith,” she told me.

She took my hand, glanced out the door to be certain no one was near, and guided me down the hall to a back staircase I’d never noticed because it was hidden behind a door that looked the same as all the rest.

“It was once a secret escape route for if we were ever attacked, but it was decided it was too easy to find. These days it’s rarely used unless someone wants to leave without being seen, like a married woman who stayed too long with one of the club members,” Flame explained. “I use it as an escape hatch because I don’t care for everyone always knowing my business.”

She shushed me at the bottom of the stairs. “We’re leaving through the kitchen. It should be empty, but you never know for sure.”

I breathed a sigh of relief once we were outside, and I saw the car she’d rented for us. It was a vintage Mustang in candy apple red with white interior.

“To a fabulous girls’ night out,” she said bumping her hip into mine. “Let’s raise some hell.”

She took us into the heart of the city, breaking every speed limit and with the radio blasting. Her carefree attitude mixed with the loud music emptied my mind of all that I’d learned about Rage and what I was beginning to imagine about the others. Tonight wasn’t for gloominess or past troubles. It was a celebration of life, the new one I’d been given yet never expected.

The club Flame took us to was nothing like a biker bar. It was sophisticated, new, and very possibly exclusive to the rich and famous. Yet, we didn’t have any trouble getting inside. In fact,the men at the door waved us forward the moment they set eyes on us. We drifted past the line like queens and through the door as nasty words from the crowd followed us.

“How did we do that?” I asked Flame.

“We don’t look like skanks and whores. The guards saw us as special, so they gave as a pass. Don’t second guess a fucking gift, Vikki. Hold your head high and act like you deserved it,” she commanded.

There were no men in leathers here, no biker gear, and no dart boards. The men wore suits made specifically for them, and watches that would have paid rent on a one-bedroom apartment for a year. The women looked down their noses at us, maybe because we didn’t have diamonds dripping from our ears and necks.

But we ignored all that and reveled in the stares the handsomest of the men gave us. We were instantly offered drinks by several men at the bar.

“A drink for a dance, no more,” Flame repeated as she freely flirted and took the offerings.

Dancing wasn’t something I’d done much of in my life. I’d only managed to sway to the music my foster families had listened to while I hid in a closet or did the chores I’d been assigned. So, swaying and shuffling my feet was the best I could do. It didn’t appear to matter much to my partners. Most of them were drunk or close to it. It seemed money didn’t always mean manners or self-control. These rich people weren’t so different from the rest of us, not even the Sinners.

Flame must have taken a shine to one of the men because she stole a kiss or two and let his hands roam over her curves a few times. She winked at me as we passed each other on the dance floor.

I had to admit we were having a good time. I briefly wondered how it would feel to be in Rage’s arms as he held me close while we remained clothed and had no intentions of screwing.

I had to close my eyes and think really hard to erase that picture from my mind. When I opened them again it was to see Flame twisting her partner’s ear until it was so bright red I worried she’d rip it from his head. She spoke in rapid Spanish. The words were foreign to me, but their meaning was obvious to everyone. She called him vile names and cursed him and any future children he might sire.

His friends laughed uproariously when he stumbled toward the bar and stole a shot of whiskey from one of them. Flame glared at him with daggers of death shooting from her eyes. She gave him the finger and spat at him before turning her back and giving me a brilliant smile.

“How is your night, chica? I’m having a most wonderful time,” she stated.

“Your friend is crazy,” my dance partner said.

“No, she simply doesn’t tolerate fools,” I replied. “Neither do I, so don’t think you’ll be getting more than a dance.”

“You wouldn’t try to rip off my ear, would you?” he asked with a grin that showcased his dimples, a grin that most likely was used to get women to fall at his feet asking to be taken to bed.

“Your ear? No. I’d go for a more tender area. I’d take you from a stallion to a gelding in a heartbeat,” I answered as charmingly as I knew how.

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