Page 4 of Liberator

“You don’t learn skills when you’re locked up in a room that has nothing but a mattress on the floor and a bucket to go to the bathroom. I’ve heard that you don’t need too many skills to work in a fast-food place or to bag groceries. I can do that or I can do what I started out as. I was used for sex. Maybe next time I can get paid for it,” she replied, sounding defeated.

“Don’t even mention that route. It’s not what you’re meant to do. You were simply a victim of circumstance. Stay here. Don’t do this to yourself. I might be able to get you a job in the bar,” I answered too quickly.

Vikki patted my hand and said, “It’s not your job to take care of me. I’ve got to learn to do that for myself. You all gave me sanctuary when I needed it. Now that time is over. Don’t worry about me.”

“Wait!”

Why the hell was I so insistent about this? I just couldn’t stand the idea of seeing her go.

It had to be because I rescued her and didn’t want that to go to waste…right?

“I have a crazy idea. Ask Prime if you can become a prospect. You’ll be able to stay here where you’re safe from the cartel. You’ll get food and housing while you learn. I’m not saying it’ll be easy. You’ll need to toughen up some more and build some muscle, but you’re capable of it,” I stated in desperation.

Prime was going to flip shit. I’d just asked this sick and battered girl to join the MC. But it was better than the alternative.

I’ll take a hit so she won’t have to ever again.

Chapter 3

The pain around mybroken heart was so strong I figured I’d be dead before morning.

Watching Liz leave with my baby in her arms and not running after her was the hardest thing I’d ever done in my life. It was worse than experiencing the rape that had given the baby life. It ripped at my soul.

I’d cried until there were no more tears, then realized I was most likely not welcome to remain at the Sinner’s clubhouse any longer. The crisis was over.

It was time for me to go.

I didn’t have a destination just as I hadn’t when I’d left foster care. The biggest difference between then and now was how much I’d learned and how hardened I’d become. I wasn’t a naïve little girl anymore. My experiences had been a painful wake up call. I know knew there was more evil in the world than I’d ever imagined. It wasn’t a fairytale, though I’d not expected thatanyway, not after the years I’d spent being sent from home to home.

I just hadn’t thought that the devil came in such a handsome package. I’d been fooled, but it wouldn’t happen again. I swore it.

The clothes and personal care items I’d been given by the cub had arrived in a beat-up duffel bag. I decided no one would get upset if I packed the little bit of shit I’d collected into it to take with me. Otherwise, I’d have to find a trash bag and lug it around, which would advertise my homelessness to everyone I ran into. That wasn’t a good way to get a job.

I’d learned quickly that you had to appear you already had a job and a home in order to actually get them for real. That was the fucked-up reality.

I’d almost finished stuffing my meager belongings into the duffel when Rage showed up at the door.

I’d hoped to escape without being noticed. Saying goodbye to my rescuers was something I preferred to avoid. I’d cried enough for an entire lifetime, yet I knew telling them goodbye would break me down again.

The confrontation with Rage dug deep into my soul into places I didn’t care to go. He was asking too many questions, ones that made me think when I didn’t wish to think. I wanted to run away, to hide from the pain and loss. I wanted to wallow in self-pity for a few days while I tried to figure out where I was going. He wasn’t letting me get away with it.

I wanted to hate him for that, but I couldn’t.

He cared, though I had no clue as to why. Everyone around me in this club seemed to care. It made no sense to me. I was nothing to them, except a bonus rescue. Maybe, that made them feel responsible for me. They weren’t, however. I’d gotten myself into the mess, and even though they’d saved my ass it was still my mess to deal with. I was sorry they were going to have to goup against the cartel, but that wasn’t entirely my fault. They’d come to save Jackson. I was a byproduct of that plan, not the main goal.

“Did you hear what I said?” Rage asked for what I realized was not the first time.

I shook my head from side to side, not only as an answer to his question but to clear away the wayward thoughts inside it.

“I said you should ask Prime if you can be a prospect. It’ll solve most of your problems. You’ll have food, shelter, and be able to stay where we can give you protection. The more I hear myself say it, the less crazy it sounds. I’m a damn genius for thinking of it!” Rage yelled.

“How much champagne did you drink? Because either you’re drunk, or you’ve lost your mind. I’m not motorcycle club material. I’m weak, lost, and don’t even know how to drive a car much less a motorcycle,” I replied.

“We call them bikes, or hogs, or rides,” he automatically corrected. “You can learn. It’s not that hard. Besides, you won’t need one for a while. You’ll have a lot of other things to learn first. Prospects do grunt work before they get on with other things,” he reminded me.

“You may have noticed when you were between my legs catching the baby that I’m a female. I don’t have a cock. You don’t have a full-fledged member that’s a woman. The closest thing you’ve got to one is Flame. She should be a member, not just a bartender. If she’s not good enough, then I’m certainly not,” I argued.

“The two of you can work together to change that. That’s the perfect plan, actually. Flame will get what she’s always deserved, and you can be dragged along. Women are always protesting and fighting for equal rights. Maybe, the Sinners need to catch up with the times, be a little more progressive. Prime has a good head on his shoulders. He listens, otherwise I’d never have beenable to bring you, Liz, and the baby here for safety. He might even like the idea of female prospects.”

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