Chapter 10: GABRIEL

"He just came out of the bathroom. I guess he's finished his call."

"Did we get the trace?"

"Working on it now, boss."

"Good, keep me posted. By the way, I don't think we should get rid of this one just yet. He seems to be the link we were missing."

"I think so too."

"Have you boys started working on him yet?"

'" Nope, we thought we'd let him sweat a little bit first, let his guard down, and that's exactly what he did." Yes, he did.

I hung up the phone and sat back in my chair in the home office at dad's place. It never ceases to amaze me just how fucking dumb the criminal element truly is. Then again, no one here would expect me to take the measures I have.

All phones had been cloned and tagged. Any calls going in and out were recorded. Like the one Billy just made in the bathroom. Even the bathrooms were bugged for sound, but only where it wouldn't infringe on anyone's privacy in a court of fucked up law. I don't need to hear the men taking a shit or pissing. But I am very interested in anything they have to say when they think no one else is listening.

I'd found a place away from the compound where I could question anyone who needed it without being disturbed. Two of my men were now there, with Billy keeping watch after he'd been dropped off by Sebastian and Garret earlier. Now I'm just waiting for those two to return with Silla and Audrey, her mom.

In the time I've been home, Mace had gotten the guestrooms ready, and I'd stopped hearing his disrespectful mumbles about ten minutes ago. I was still a bit unsettled by my decision to bring her here. Like I said, I came prepared. I knew from what little my dad had told me that there were some things I might need and set about taking care of that beforehand.

Like a safe house to keep any of the runaways we rescued going forward. The old man had started a program with some other biker chapters to save kids off the streets in their hometowns. Some of these guys were trying to right the wrongs of their past, and this was the thing they'd chosen to do to make reparations.

Somewhere along the way, someone had gotten it into their head that the kids they were saving could bring in more revenue if they sold them instead of housing and schooling them, which had been the original purpose of the whole mission.

Dad had stumbled upon something just before he became ill, and that's where I come in. I've done my homework and called in some favors from some friends who are on standby if needed. My mind drifted back to her again, and I gave in. Looks like I'm going to have to split my time between dealing with what I came here for and her since it doesn't seem like I can stop my mind from conjuring her up every few seconds.

***

SILLA

***

I'm too drained to think clearly, but the embarrassment of someone like him knowing that my own father was willing to sell me to the highest bidder is a humiliation I don't think I can ever overcome. I don't know how I'll ever face him again, or didn't think I could until we were brought back to the house.

Not only was I battling embarrassment, but I seem to be coming down with a serious case of fangirling. Instead of worrying about Sam and what he might do next, my mind has been preoccupied with bottle-green eyes that seem to see way too much. I haven't had time for boys and relationships, and if I did, I certainly wouldn't have chosen any of the ones I'm acquainted with around here. But I'm pretty sure these are the heart palpitations my one and only friend Chantal is always going on about. She gets them at least once a week over some K-Pop group or idol.

Why am I thinking about this nonsense right now? Oh yeah, because I'm nervous as all hell. That's why I'm hiding out in the room that had been assigned to me. The room was better than any I've ever had. More spacious and brighter with furniture that didn't look like it had been salvaged off the sidewalk somewhere.

I laid back across the bed, waiting for my heart to get back to normal, but it was taking its sweet time. I'm not sure how much more of this it can take. Too much exposure to Mr. Hottie just might do me in where Sam had failed.

All the way here, I'd tried convincing myself that there's no way he could be as perfectly handsome as I thought, but I was wrong; in this light and without anger clouding his countenance, he was even more superb. It's no wonder I'm attracted; who wouldn't be? But I'm smart enough to know that he isn't for me. Men like him don't usually go for a little 'nobody' like me. There's nothing stopping me from enjoying the view while I'm here, though, is there?

He's not what I expected. Not, from the speculation between Sam, and his friends, when it was rumored that he was coming here, nor from the whispers once he stepped in. One had him being a city greenhorn with manicured nails and more money than sense. While the other couldn't seem to quite get a bead on him.

He'd been described as untamed, and it was the first time I've heard the men in my dad's crew speak of anyone with such…' fear?' In their voices. It had led me to believe that he was somehow like the man who had raised me. Rough, uncouth, abusive.

Nothing had prepared me for the reality. Maybe he has two faces since from all the descriptions I've heard; they seem to be describing two separate people. So who was the man I'd met for the briefest of moments but whose presence had left such an impact?

Through my embarrassment earlier, I'd seen the anger he held back in his eyes. How he kept his tone so level and nonthreatening while talking to mom, I'll never know. But I'd learned in that little bit of time that he knew how to control his anger and not let it control him. It's the first time I'd seen that in a man.

All my life, living with Sam, I knew only one thing about men; that they hit. Men were to be feared and avoided at all costs. When in their presence, I kept my head down and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible or hide away out of view once my body started to mature.

Before then, mom was the one who suffered his wrath. I got away with a few smacks here and there, but nothing like she did until I reached the age of thirteen and began to blossom. It seems like my puberty had a direct link to Sam's decline into complete abuse.

Our home became a battlefield, and I found myself being the brunt of all of his anger whenever we were in the same space together. It was as if just the sight of me enraged him to the point where mom and I had to make up a schedule so that I was not in the same room as him at any given time.

I still have no idea what had set him off, what had turned his ire from the wife who he seemed to hate with a passion, when he wasn't obsessed with her, onto me. But everything I did seemed to send him into a rage, which ended with this morning's confrontation.