Page 1 of Holland
Chapter One
Approximately One Year Ago
Holland
I made my way over to the petite redhead that looked like she was trying to curl herself into her own body when it happened. The one person I never thought I’d see again, my mother. She was thinner and older, but it was definitely her. I was in such a state of shock at seeing her; it took me a moment to take in all of her. Her hair was a different shade of blonde that looked like it hadn’t been washed in a few days at least, lying limp against her shoulders. Dark thick make-up coated her face, and it reminded me of a mask. She was wearing a jean mini skirt that looked to be two sizes too small and a halter-top that barely covered anything.
“Are you listening to me dumbass? I said how the hell am I supposed to make money if you take all my girls?” She didn’t recognize me, not even a little, it was like a stab to the little boy who lived inside my heart. I’m too shocked to even respond. The whimpers of the redheaded girl caught my attention, causing me to glance her way again.
“You like her? You want her? I can make that happen; me, no one else.” I looked back at the woman who gave birth to me and couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of her mouth. The girl eyed me for a minute before ducking her head back inside her cocoon. She started rocking back and forth and I could hear sounds of crying emanating from her. Choosing to ignore my mother, I strode over to the girl to make sure she was all right; sitting down close enough for us to talk, but far enough away not to spook her.
“Hey, my name is Holland. What’s yours?” She shook her head and if it was possible, she seemed to burrow further into herself.
“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you. I’m a police officer, I’m here to help.” She peeked at me from between the arms she had crossed over her knees.
“You’re with those bikers, you aren’t a cop, try another lie.” Woah, this kid had spunk, and she was definitely still a kid. Maybe sixteen or seventeen, I couldn’t be sure, but she was definitely not like the rest of the prostitutes we rounded up. I reached into my back pocket and pulled out my badge.
“Here, look. Go on take it.” She tentatively reached out her hand and snatched my badge before yanking her hand back.
“Holy shit! You are a cop. What the fuck are you doing here with all these bikers?” Her voice raised an octave and she unfurled herself a little.
“Those bikers are my buddies, my real family, they needed some help, it’s that simple.” I shrugged like that explained it all, but she didn’t look convinced. It was that simple for me, they were my family even if I wasn’t a part of the club; they were my family.
“Seriously, how did a cop get to be buddies with bikers. You dirty?” She eyed me with suspicion, and I laughed.
“No, definitely not. Maybe a little on the grey side of the law but definitely not the dirty side. What about you kid, how did you get involved with this riffraff?” She looked down at my badge rubbing it with her thumb, deep in thought.
“Doesn’t matter.” She shrugged looking lost. “Am I going to be arrested or something?”
“Do you have anyone you can call to come pick you up?” She shook her head.
“Your parents?” She shook her head.
“Aunts? Uncles? Cousins twice removed?” She continued to shake her head no.
“Come on kid you gotta have someone out there looking for you. Someone who gives a shit.” No way there wasn’t at least someone out there that cared about her.
“Who do you think sold me?” She jumped up and threw my badge at me, anger pouring off her.
“My own fucking parents that’s who. They needed money for drugs, I was the payment. This is my life now.” Tears started streaming down her face as she crumbled to the ground. What the fuck was wrong with people? First Bliss’s dad and his bullshit and now this kid's parents. It made me want to hunt these fuckers down and give them my own brand of justice.
“What’s your name kid? I can’t keep calling you kid.” I wanted to give her a hug or some kind of comfort but I knew from being around Bliss that wasn’t something I could do. She needed to know I was safe not some asshole trying to cop a feel.
“Crimson, Crimson Reed.” I blinked at her, because no fucking way was that her real name.
“I’ve had the red hair since birth, apparently my parents thought my name should match. I know it sounds like a stripper name, which considering what I’ve been doing would be better than my current occupation.” I flinch remembering where I found her, in a den of prostitution.
“How old are you Crimson? And don’t lie because I know damn well you aren’t an adult.” She looked like she was nervous or afraid that if she told me her age she’d be going to jail or juvie or something equally horrible.
“I’m not going into foster care, or any other bullshit thing you’re thinking about. I’m old enough to take care of myself, besides I learned a lot of skills working for these guys. I'm sure I can make money to support myself.” I cringed to think about the skills she was talking about. My own sisters were barely older than she was, if anyone ever touched them without their consent, I don’t know what I’d do. Probably be on trial for murder I’m pretty sure.
“Who said anything about foster care? I’m simply asking friendly questions to get to know you, that’s all. How long have you been with these assholes anyway?” Even if she was eighteen, she was barely eighteen but I highly doubted that.
“You ask a lot of questions, questions I’m pretty sure you don’t really want the answers to.” I shrugged at her in response and waited.
“Fine, I’m seventeen, there you satisfied Mr. Hot Cop.” I raised an eyebrow at the hot cop reference; I did not need her to be thinking of me in that way at all. I definitely wasn’t thinking about her in that way, she reminded me of my sisters at her age for that shit.
“Don’t act like you don’t know you’re hot.” She sighed.
