Blood and Honor (2 page)

“Maybe I should check then?
Make sure you’re telling me the truth?”

She felt her forehead wrinkle momentarily as she tried to process what her stepfather was saying.

Check?
Check what?

He grabbed her, his rough hands pulling at her terry cloth shorts.
Mute with horror and confusion, Mickey prayed for Rhee to burst in, or for her mother to come home early.
Mickey kicked at him, but he grabbed her ankles.

“Don’t you touch me!”
she shrieked.

“You’ll do what I say or I’ll take it out on your mom, you hear me, you little slut?”

No!

“You want me to break a few more of her ribs, then?
Huh?”
Spittle from his mouth flew out as he roared at her, and she flinched as the spray hit her face.

Mickey forced herself to go still, to stop kicking.
Paul hurt her mom a lot lately.
She would do anything to prevent her mom from being hurt.
Her body remained rigid as he pushed her down.
Mickey fought the bile that rose up in her throat as the stench rolling off of the man assaulted her senses.
The feel of his fingers on her bare legs felt like a hundred spiders and she flinched.

He smacked her soundly on the thigh.
“You gonna obey me, Mouse?”
he whispered.

“Or are you gonna let your momma handle my bad mood?”

She wouldn’t subject her mother to more abuse—not willingly, anyhow.
She knew that his intent was evil, but Mickey was still unsure exactly what he meant to do.
And then…

With sheer horror, she realized what it was that he wanted to “check” for.
Mickey squeaked with terror as her shorts were yanked to the side and her stepfather’s fingers jabbed at her in places that no one else had ever touched.
Between her legs.
Beneath her pink flowered panties.
Down there, where a light smattering of hair had recently sprouted to signal her womanhood.

It was humiliating to feel her stepfather’s hands on her there, to hear his heavy breathing in her ear.
Then, his finger parted her dry folds, stabbing deep within her resisting body.
Mickey’s mouth opened to scream, but no sound came out.
He seemed satisfied after his finger hit a particularly sensitive spot deep inside of her.

“Yeah, you’ll work out just fine, Mouse.
Just fine,”
he muttered, as his other hand went into his pants.

At some point, her mind did this nifty thing where she just…went away.

It was a useful trick—one that Mickey thought she had perfected over the years.

***

Sometimes, when she slept, Mickey’s chest squeezed so tight that she couldn’t breathe. It was her survival instinct—the same force that had kept her alive and out of the asylum all of these years—that woke her up. Air surged into her constricted lungs. A trickle of sweat made its way into the valley between her breasts as she stared fearfully into the strange, dark surroundings.

It was a familiar space—the space between the nightmare and the reality. It was a place where she felt it all over again—the pain. The feel of his fingers still lingered, the humiliation still heated her cheeks and her neck...the sensations were enough to make her gag.

Every fucking time.

Mickey rolled to her side, the acrid sting of bile making its way up into her throat. She forced it back down, furious with herself for being so weak.

Get yourself together!

She dug her fingernails into her wrists, using another old trick to pull some of her attention from the black hole inside her mind. It worked this time. Sometimes it didn’t. But this time…Mickey wrenched herself out of the nightmare of her memories and back into the small, infested motel room. Even the roaches were welcome company compared to what danced in her mind once she closed her eyes.

Paul was gone—he was dead and buried. If there was any sort of justice in the world, his ass was most definitely burning in hell. In any case, he could never hurt her again.

There was a time when she was angry—
so
angry. At her mother. At her sister. At her sorry-ass circumstances. But after a while, she realized that the only person she should be angry at was her evil bastard of a stepfather. Unfortunately, his ghost continued to haunt her, wielding the guilt he spawned like a black hole inside of her heart.

Deep down—
way
deep down—Mickey knew that she shouldn’t have to feel guilty that she protected herself all those years ago.

But thanks to her, her mother was gone too.

Chapter Two

Dax knew what was coming. And it scared the shit outta him. He almost chuckled at the strange irony of his thoughts, but what was about to happen was too frightening to allow him to smile. It was amusing how gun-running, beat downs, and flying down a highway doing ninety on a bike paled in comparison to the situation that was brewing ominously nearby.

Never show fear,
he reminded himself. That was the most important thing.

The past few months were a total mind fuck. But when Dax took the time to reflect on what had happened, the series of events that led him to this current situation—it all seemed like it was meant to be. This thing with Rhiannon and Sirena threw him for a major fucking loop at first, but there was never a doubt in his mind about the right course of action to take.

He had been angry—so
fucking
angry with her when he learned that Rhee had given birth to his daughter after she had disappeared—and that she had failed to tell him. But, Dax wasn’t about to leave a baby without a daddy.

No fuckin’ way. It wasn’t right.

Things could happen. Bad things. Especially to a girl child. The hardcore emotions that burned in his heart for Sirena were like nothing he had ever experienced. And he would be damned if anything ever happened to her.

Or to her mother.

Dax didn’t know love—he didn’t recognize it for what it was when he first met Rhiannon. He had no clue how or why he had lost his shit to that girl, but what went down with Salazar and the cartel and then Vidal and his crew, he knew that everything came down to who his family was.

Family could be defined in a bunch of ways. His crew, his boys—they had always been there for him. But now, there was this other family—and they needed him to. In fact, they needed him more. Sirena—she was his blood. Dax couldn’t just sweep that little fact by the wayside and return to his life in Darling. They would never say shit to his face, but he knew that some of the boys would never understand why he had made the choices he had made.

Well, fuck them. He had been around long enough to know that he had a code and he needed to honor it.

After riding an intangible yet distinct line for so many years, Dax chose which side to stand on. He made the right choice. He knew he had chosen wisely by the simple way things unfolded to keep him connected to his new family. He had a brother—nah, a
braddah
—in Turtle. He had an extended family in the local crew. It was different and it was also the same.

Certain things were easier than he had expected—like the way his daughter accepted his presence, like he had always been there. He would never forget the first time she called him “daddy.” It was a morning so early that it could still be considered night. A voice, pure and innocent, beckoned him from sleep and sent him into that pink and white-checkered room to comfort her—his daughter.

“Daddy,” Sirena sighed peacefully as she settled back to sleep cradled in his good arm.

As that single word sank into his sleepy brain, a curious warmth began to heat up a place inside of Dax that he had never been aware of before. The comforting glow spread into his chest as he gazed at the child who slumbered against his tattooed arm. He had wondered how this was going to work—how he was going to make things fit together in terms of the club and his instant family…and then…he hadn’t had to do anything at all. Everything just fell into place like the island had waved a magic wand on him and everyone who mattered to him.

Other things, however, made him feel like a total fucking jackass. Right now—
this
was one of those things. Dax checked the his phone for the third time. Rhee wouldn’t be home for a good hour—working on some big fundraiser for her little studio. He was impressed with Rhee’s tenacity. All she wanted was to give back to the community that had supported her in her time of need. She wanted to help kids and give them a place to go, something to do—something to believe in.

Some new donor showed out of the blue several months ago and Rhee was all over the potential for a large grant. Dax was happy that she was living her dream, but at the same time her passion took a little bit too much of her away for his liking. It was times like this one that he really needed her, goddammit.

There would be no saving him this time.

“Daddy! Hafta poop!”

Shit!

Literally.

“Okay, honey. Where—I mean, do you need…” Dax was frozen in place—not the most convenient reaction to this particular challenge.

Jesus fucking Christ!
I’d rather deal with a thousand rookie grunts than this.

A blond blur whizzed by, making a beeline for the bathroom. Dax rushed after Sirena in a blind panic, his heart thumping in his chest. What was he supposed to do again? Oh, shit. The potty seat. Where the hell was it? Frantic, he flung open the cabinet and began rummaging around in it, to no avail.

“Daddy!”

The innocent little voice jolted Dax from his frenzy.

His heart seized up and for a moment, Dax clutched his chest. Was this a heart attack or was love a more violent emotion than he had presumed? Slowly, he turned to observe the blond haired, blue-eyed sprite sitting on her potty seat. Apparently, Sirena put it in place on her own and had successfully relieved herself. Dax felt some of his tension ease.

Until…

“Need wipies.”

Sirena regarded him, seeming to pick up on his angst, mirth in those deep blue eyes that matched his own. Then, she reached behind herself for the wipes that sat on top of the toilet tank. Frustration set into her jaw as she struggled to remove one from the plastic package.

“Uhhh!” Sirena exclaimed, in a tone that communicated she was close to a meltdown.

Fuck, give me a clubhouse full of bullet holes and hangover vomit any day!

Dax surprised himself by managing the delicate task at hand without so much as a grimace. In fact, he found himself swelling with a strange kind of pride as his independent offspring grinned at him and proclaimed,

“I do it all by myself!”

Dax was chuckling now, as Sirena refused to let him help her pull up her pink sparkly tights. Her panties—fuckin’ pink panties to boot—ended up bunched up in a massive wedgie, but he knew better than to try to fix them.

Jesus fuckin’ Christ, me and a kid who wears pink tights.

Dax shook his head as Sirena bolted from the bathroom, blatantly ignoring his request to wash her hands.

Well, fuck it.
I’ll pick my battles.

The little girl tore into the bedroom and a few minutes later, her giggles told Dax that she was up to no good.

Little troublemaker.
Yeah, she’s definitely my blood.

Dax wasn’t totally aware of the big, shit-eating grin on his face as he chased down his daughter. But as he was ushered to a set of purple toy teacups, he was completely cognizant of the joy that bubbled up from somewhere deep inside of him…and overflowed.

***

Rhee was tired, but in a good way. Never—never in her wildest dreams would she have thought her life would be this, well, great. That part of her, the one that had convinced her that a happy life with a good man was not meant to be, had been almost completely silenced.

Almost.

I don’t deserve happiness.
Not until I find Mickey.

It was a constant mental war to focus on the positive, to allow herself the joy that seeing her daughter and father together brought. How could she be happy? She agonized over the thought that her momentary happiness was causing Mickey to slip from her consciousness a little more each day.

What if my concern is the only thing keeping my sister alive?

It was a crazy thought. Right? It made no sense. But a part of Rhee couldn’t let it go. Maybe, just maybe…as long as she worried about Mickey, as long as Mickey’ absence impacted her, she kept the hope alive that one day, her little sister would be found—and that she would be in one piece.

Rhee entertained all sorts of fantasies. After Mickey’s picture of a cartel hit was sent to Rhee, Dax thought that Mickey was in Witsec, to avoid retaliation. So, maybe she was somewhere totally divine, like Paris or Greece, living as someone else. Or maybe she was living it up with her rich, handsome husband. Her little sister deserved no less. Rhee refused to think about the alternate realities that were possible. Mickey would be found, alive and well.

She had to be.

She just…had to be.

But…what if Mickey hates me?

Rhee couldn’t deny the possibility that her sister was out there but simply wanted nothing to do with her. After all, she abandoned Mickey—left her there in that house, when she knew that Paul was capable of doing terrible things. It was why she left. The moment her stepfather tried to put his filthy fucking hands on her, Rhee was out of there.

In some respects, Rhee understood that there was little she could have done to prevent what happened in that house. She had been hardly more than a child herself, and all she could think about was getting away. She never considered that Paul would go after her younger sister.