Page 52 of Mimic
An actual room. It was still a cell. I was locked in it anytime I wasn’t training with Dakota. But the only bars were on thewindows. That room had been filled with books. Encyclopedias, maps, medical textbooks. Nothing to read for pleasure. Only learning.
And given that I had no television, no internet, I read.
I read every book in that room. I knew how to set my own shoulder. I could stitch my own wounds. I’d learned everything there was to know about New York City.
That’s where I was. The city that never slept.
“Again.”
“Fuck you. I need to rest. You keep popping my fucking shoulder out, eventually it won’t go back in, and I’ll be useless to your precious daddy,” I sneered. “What do you think he’ll do to you if you break his favorite toy?”
There were many times over the years when Dakota had shown up busted and bruised. Those times always coincided with an injury I had received. Only the big ones, though. The broken bones that took weeks to heal.
In those weeks, I wasn’t allowed to train. So Dakota chose emotional and mental manipulation instead of physical abuse. He claimed it would make me stronger mentally. Once he was done with me, no one would ever be able to use my emotions against me.
He was full of shit. He just enjoyed torture. It didn’t matter what kind.
“You’re such a pussy.”
“And you’re a sorry excuse for a man. Always doing Daddy’s bidding. Never having a thought or an idea of your own. All you are is a fucking lackey.”
I could practically see the steam billowing out of Dakota’s ears. I was no longer the scared kid he’d snatched off the street. He’d done his job well. He’d turned me into a man. A man who would one day slice his throat.
I made the mistake of getting lost in my thoughts about how I would one day kill him and didn’t see the hit coming. Dakota moved quickly, and with a roundhouse kick to the side of the head, I was on the ground. I landed on my shoulder and groaned; the pain was so intense I almost passed out.
The only thing stopping me was the sheer will not to give Dakota the satisfaction.
“Maybe one of these days you’ll learn to keep your fucking mouth shut.”
The nightmares were coming almost every night now. Ever since I’d found my sister. They used to be sporadic. But so much shit had been dredged up in my mind. My mother, the years without my sister. Now Indie.
She wasn’t in my room when I got back yesterday, and when I went to find her, her door was locked. I could have easily picked it, but what I’d done was an asshole move.
Dakota had instilled in me that a woman’s pleasure was her own responsibility. Her body was for men to use as they saw fit. But here in the club, it was different.
Before Beck moved back and Sam moved in with Charlie, it was common for the brothers to have sex throughout the clubhouse. Wherever there was a surface to spread a woman out, you could be sure to find brothers there. The bathrooms, the pool table, the backyard. Nothing was off-limits except the kitchen and the bar top.
I’d begun to notice something as I watched the men with the club girls. The girls always came. They always got their release either before or after. Of course, I never asked about it. I didn’t want anyone to know I was still a fucking virgin.
I couldn’t take my clothes off in front of the club. If they saw my back, I wasn’t sure what King would do. It would come out eventually, but not until Dakota was dead.
Then it didn’t matter what happened to me. I knew Rose would be taken care of. Cash loved her. He wouldn’t let anyone punish her for my deceit.
I could have gone to one of the surrounding towns, but no one had ever stirred me enough. Not until Indie.
Just the thought of her lips wrapped around me had me stiffening up. I’d come twice with her. And then left. I’d planned for more when I got back, but I’d needed to talk to Johnny.
I knew King would be pissed when he heard what happened, so I had to make it right. Johnny stood there and listened. He was a prospect; he’d had no choice. But the look on his face told me that if I weren’t an officer, once he was patched in, he’d get his revenge. Who knew, maybe he still would. Brothers often sparred in the ring.
I made my way downstairs, my first stop being the coffeemaker. I peeked into the main room looking for Indie. Not seeing her anywhere, I waited by the coffeemaker, knowing she’d come here first.
As soon as she walked into the kitchen, she noticed me. Her beautiful brown eyes narrowed at me, but her coffee addiction won out. She grabbed a cup and moved closer.
“Excuse me.” Her voice was laced with anger.
I grabbed her cup from her hand and poured her coffee, holding it out to her.
She took a deep breath and stared at it before finally looking at me and saying, “You’re an ass.”
