She squeals a little, her face flaming as she asks, “What are you doing?”
“Hands on my shoulders, babe. Hold on tight while I get you on my bike.”
“Woah, big guy! I can get on myself. Don’t worry.”
“Nope. Won’t have you stressing your body or the baby. The ride will be taxing enough on you.”
“Don’t tell me you’re one of those controlling types.”
“I’m not. I’d never control you in any way. I care about your safety and health, about your happiness and wellbeing.”
Her lower lip trembles as tears spring in her eyes. “You’re seriously sweet, you know that?” she mumbles, placing her hands on my shoulders.
“Hold on tight, Naomi.”
With her nod of assurance, I tighten my grip and lift. She yells and giggles the entire time, making me grin like a damn fool. I love hearing her sound so carefree, and yet it makes me rage inside that someone had attempted to steal this brightness from her. They better hope I never come across them, or they’ll learn what true darkness feels like when I rip them apart.
“Feet down.” I direct and watch as she reaches with her tiptoes on either side of the bike. Spinning the duffle bag to my front, I continue to have her hold on to my arm while I carefully put my leg over. Normally, I’d never get on my bike this way with someone else, but I needed to get her on it first so she didn’t hurt herself. “Wrap your hands around my waist and hold on tight.”
“Okay, I will.”
“Promise me you won’t let go until I tell you to.”
“I promise, Spin. The only way I’m coming off your bike is if I fall.”
Fuck.
She shouldn’t say something like that. Now it has me thinking about keeping her.
Chapter four
Naomi
Not gonna lie, I was way off when it came down to what I should expect. I had all sorts of vivid details conjured up, thinking Sons of Anarchy-type of clubhouse. Yeah, I couldn’t have been more wrong—it’s nothing in comparison. Spin calls it the compound, and this place definitely fits the name as it’s large, taken care of, and well-protected.
We slowly ride through a gated entrance with another biker standing guard to unlock it and let us in. A tall chain-link fence from either direction matches the entrance gate and seems to span around the entire property. Spin says it’s to keep people out so we’re always safe. I can’t help but wonder if it’s to keep people inside as well. I’m trying to take it all in with a grain of salt and be open-minded, but it’s a bit of culture shock.
The few half-naked women we passed while walking through the common area were quick to give me a once-over and turn away uninterested. I have a feeling if I were male, I’d have been welcomed differently. Spin assures me most of the MC members have an ol’ lady, so there are no other club whores around. His words, not mine. I’d never call a woman a club whore, but again, not judging. I’m here hoping for help, not to chastise them on their club terms and way of life.
Now I’m sitting in Spin’s room, minding my own business. Or at least striving to, as every bone in my body is screeching at me to get up and poke around in his stuff to find out every detail I can about him. One thing that’s for certain, without me having to snoop around, is the man loves art, and I’m not talking about any old designs. First of all, one wall is dark purple, another gray, and the final two are white. His bedspread is jet black, along with his curtains and pillows. His dresser and desk are both littered with multiple sketch pads, charcoal pencils, oil paints, markers, tattoo ink, some weird-shaped rulers, white erasers, smudge sticks, and other artsy-type stuff. There are large, elaborate hand drawings in frames on the walls, a few paintings, as well as one in ink and an easel off to the side. Something tells me this is all him—his personal works of art.
He should be selling these in galleries in big cities, not locking them away. Such creations deserve to be shared with the world, which tells me there’s a story behind him locking them away.
Who are you, Spin?
What’s your story?
Spin told me to stay in his room until he comes to get me and gives me the “all clear” or else I’d be walking around right now, checking out the entire space. After lying in the hospital bed for hours, I want to stretch my limbs a bit and explore. And don’t get me started on the ride over here. It was completely exhilarating. I can’t remember the last time I felt so peaceful and free. No wonder people love motorcycles as much as they do. I didn’t mention it to Spin, but that was my first time riding. I figured it might freak him out too badly to let me ride. He was already concerned with me being pregnant, so I kept my mouth shut about never having been on a motorcycle before.
I’ll never forget it, or him.
A knock interrupts my thoughts, making me sit up straight. It could be anyone, as I highly doubt Spin would knock on his own bedroom door to come inside. “Uh, Spin’s not here! He’ll be back soon,” I yell instead. Whoever it is, hopefully they’ll come back later.
“It’s Sadie. I want to speak with you.”
“Of course! Please come in,” I call through the door and watch as it opens. A tiny sprite of a woman enters, flashing a warm smile. She reminds me of a biker Tinkerbell, but I have a feeling her bite is a lot sharper than Tink’s.
“Hi, I’m Sadie.”
Standing, I hold my hand out. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Naomi, and I hope I didn’t stir up any trouble by coming here.” I plop back down on the comfy chair. I’m much bigger than her, and I don’t want her to feel like I’m being overbearing by randomly showing up or from my size.
“Trouble? No way. You caught everyone off guard, but it’s good to have them on their toes occasionally.” She sits on the chair’s arm, right next to me, gesturing to my stomach. “How far along are you?” she questions, and I feel like she’s genuinely curious, not just trying to fill the silence. Finding people who truly care about strangers is hard to come by these days, and it instantly notches up my respect for her to another level.
“I’m past my six-month mark. I swear it’s taking forever for my due date to get here, and this kid loves to play kickball with my bladder.”
She laughs. “It’ll be here before you know it, then you’ll be scrambling. Trust me, I felt the same way with mine. You want them to hurry up and come out, then you miss them and wish they were still in your belly at times. Motherhood is unlike any experience I’ve ever had. Never thought I could love a tiny human so much when I first met them.”
My smile’s wide by the time she stops talking. “I can’t wait for everything you just said,” I admit. I’ll have my own little person to shower with love and cuddles.
“So, Naomi, tell me what brought you here.”
Going into the same spiel I’d shared with Spin, I tell her everything, choking up at the end. I hope I don’t sound like a whiney ass who ran away from a man wanting me around. It was never like that to me, though, but rather an unhappy relationship that morphed into an even more toxic one at the end.
She nods when I finish, grabbing my hand to lightly squeeze it. I swear I can see the empathy in her eyes, and it brings me an overwhelming sense of comfort. She seems like someone who genuinely wants to help women in danger, thank God. I knew there was a chance her website could end up being fake or a front for something else. I had no idea if I’d show up and they’d sell me across the border or use my baby for some sort of twisted harvesting. Maybe lock me away as their personal sex prisoner or something else just as sick and twisted.