Mica (Rebel Wayfarers MC) (19 page)

She drew in a sobbing breath that broke his heart. “Everything changed when we were seventeen. Daddy raped my best friend, Emily. You remember? She was Michael’s fiancé?” He nodded silently, holding her tightly against him. “Michael had turned sweet on her that year; we were all seniors in high school, excited about college and getting out of Longview, where we all grew up. Michael caught Daddy in the act and beat him. I think that was the first time Michael raised his hands in anger.”

“Daddy had locked me in a small room in the barn, so I heard everything, but couldn’t help until Michael let me out. That’s what I dream of, most nights—being locked in that room. The helpless feeling, and unbelievable fear, because I knew…I knew what was happening, and I could not do a single blessed thing to stop it. Daddy was charged, and there was a trial. All of us were tired and angry all the time,” her breath hitched again as she spoke, “because no matter what was happening in our personal lives, the same old chores still had to be done. ‘Animals don’t take vacations from eating’—that’s something Daddy would say.

“Mikey and I were alone for a while when Daddy was in jail. We were simply trying to take care of each other, and then he took up the role of disciplinarian. He would rain down blows with Daddy’s belt whenever he felt it was warranted. I hated him so much then,” she said simply and emotionlessly.  Mason felt sick at the detached tone in her voice, knowing that it was there because of a deep betrayal and pain.

“Mason, I don’t think I’ve ever told anyone this whole story,” she mused. “It feels so odd to speak of things I try to keep hidden all the time.” She sighed. “All that summer long, I took a lot of unnecessary risks; it seemed like everything that could have gone bad already had, so I think I felt there was nothing left to lose. I couldn’t stand to be around Em, knowing how badly my family had treated her.”

Shifting restlessly, she pressed her cheek into his chest as Mason struggled to stay still. He didn’t want to tense up or react in any way that would shut her down; she needed to talk, and he had to hear it. “So, I lost my Daddy, my brother, and my best friend all at once. Then I lost my baby sister, Molly. She got placed with my aunt, but that was probably the best thing that happened that summer. I spent a great deal of time at all the rodeos and Playdays in the area, entering event after event, running through horses and energy…and I took up with a boy—one of the bull riders.”

He tightened his arms around her again, giving her a gentle squeeze. He didn’t know what was coming next, but her reaction made him wary. She sighed again, chewing on the side of her thumb absently. “He…Ray…the bull rider, well, he put me in the hospital several times in the few months I knew him. An ER doc in Wichita gave me the wakeup call I needed. He pushed me to leave Ray, and told me he knew what was happening. I was so embarrassed I had wound up like that again; it made me wonder if I was a magnet for terrible people. You think so?”

Mason shook his head silently, caressing the length of her back and rolling her into him more tightly. Taking a deep breath, Mica shifted back and moved her head to look at him again, reaching up to tug his face towards hers for a quick, chaste kiss. “I left. I left the rodeo, the south, and Ray in order to come to Illinois and college. I never went back to Texas to live. Mikey got into trouble drinking, and he left home too. Neither of us could look at the other without pain, and we sure couldn’t stand being around Daddy.”

“I started paying some of our family to live there on the ranch and help Daddy work it. This was done with the understanding that my baby sister would never set foot back on that place, because I can’t see myself ever going back there to live, and I will not spend time imagining what her life would be like with him. So…that’s me in a nutshell. Messed up family, huh? I still have some really bad dreams, like I did tonight, where I relive everything like I’m in the middle of it again. I’m so glad you were here with me. Mason, do you think we ever really escape the bad things that happen to and around us? Or do we simply keep replaying those moments in our heads for the rest of our lives?”

Her alarm going off startled both of them as Phillip Phillips started singing
Drive Me
.

Mason held in his breath for a moment, thinking about her question. “I think we make our own way. And while we all are the sum of every one of our experiences, it is up to us to figure out which of those get the biggest real estate in our lives, the ones we build everything else around.” He snuggled her in a little tighter to his side, and his voice deepened and became rough. “I know of one experience that I want to keep front and center in my life, babe.”

Her face turned up towards his again, a sad expression crinkling her eyes. “Mason—” she started.

“Hush,” he said, “I know, babe. It’s okay. I got you no matter what, and we’re good. I promise we’re good…just…give me this.” Twisting in the bed, he slapped snooze on the alarm, and then curled back around her for a few more stolen minutes.

29 -
            
Something doesn’t fit

Sitting in the media room at his house in Glencoe, which was situated along the exclusive North Shore expanse of the big lake, Daniel was relaxing. Dressed in an untucked, button-down shirt and comfortable jeans, he cued up another tape of one of the Milwaukee Crashers’ games. His Mallets would be playing against the Crashers in a few days, and he was doing what he did best, analyzing the opposition to find the flaws that could be exploited by his team to win the game.

He picked up a glass from the nearby table, rattling the ice against the sides and bottom, taking a quick drink of whisky. Leaning back into the butter-soft leather of the couch, he rolled up his sleeves, and then started working the remote, fast-forwarding and rewinding, watching the gameplay on the screen. Making idle popping noises with his lips, he concentrated on the movements of the forwards for this run-through, thinking he might need some music for this set. He’d watched several hours of video today, and was starting to lose his focus.

A low tone played in the room, followed by Samuel’s voice over the intercom, “Mr. Rupert, I apologize for the interruption. Mr. Lebuvar is here to see you, sir. Would you like me to show him down to the media room?” Pausing the playback, Daniel picked up his glass again, climbing to his bare feet to walk towards the bar at the back of the room. “That’s fine, Samuel; send him on down.”

Standing beside the bar, Daniel wondered what Steve was up to tonight; he hadn’t expected to see him until game day, when Steve usually pulled out his reporter credentials in order to get into the game for free. Hearing the scuffling of feet on the carpeted stairs right outside the room, he looked over his shoulder and asked, “Whatcha drinking, Steve?” as he poured himself another whiskey.

“Whatever you are having will be fine, Daniel, thanks.” He sat on one end of the couch, adjusting his jacket and slacks before putting his loafer-clad feet up on the table. He crossed his legs at the ankles, and reached wearily for the glass as Daniel passed it over to him. Daniel sat, picking up the remote and starting the playback again, sitting in comfortable silence with his longtime friend.

Steve sighed, lacing his fingers over his stomach and holding his glass loosely as he watched the liquid tilt with each breath he took. Over the next thirty minutes, they spoke occasionally about the players, plays, or handling they saw on the tapes. Steve winced as the Crashers’ enforcers slammed player after player into the boards. “Man, I don’t know how you do this every week, Daniel,” he said after watching a particularly difficult skirmish in the corner of the rink, where two opposing players had to leave the ice with bloody injuries. “That shit is brutal, and it’s going to catch up with you sooner or later.”

“Yes, Mother, I’ll watch out for the big boys down by the pond.” Daniel laughed and shook his head. “I do hear you, man, and believe me, it gets harder every year. I hope we make the playoffs this season, because this might be it for me.” He stretched one triceps across his chest with the opposite elbow, feeling the soreness along the back of his arm and chuckled. “Of course, I say that every year about this time. It’s that part of the season when everything just fucking hurts. You watch—come the end of summer, I’ll be rested, ready, and rearing to go again.”

Laughing, Steve fake-somberly nodded his head. “I think it’s all the headshots into the boards, old man. It takes your brain a while to catch up, but then you go and give it time off and you get senioritis again. It lets you forget all the pain and suffering you put yourself through during the season, until it’s the season again.”

Pulling up on the edge of the couch, Steve put his elbows on his knees. He swirled the ice in his drink. “Having fun joking at your expense is great, but I came here because I’m a little miffed at ya. If you weren’t happy with how quickly I was looking into Ms. Scott’s background, you could have simply told me you hired someone else. It’s only been two days, man. I didn’t lose that much billable time on it, but it still pisses me off. Next time, would you just call me and find out where I am?” He shook his head. “So before I give you my report, do ya want to tell me what you found out from your other guy?”

Lifting one brow, Daniel looked at Steve skeptically. “What do you mean I hired someone else?”

“Oh, come on, don’t be coy. I was scouting her house and saw this other guy doing the same thing. Then, I saw the same guy near Jackson’s that evening, and then near her work the next day. I know what it looks like when someone is investigating, and he and I both were.” Steve frowned. “So what did you find out about her?”

Shaking his head, Daniel said slowly, “I didn’t hire anyone else, Steve, so who the fuck is this guy, and what is he doing watching Mica?” He tensed, rage rising in him. “Did you get a good look at the guy at least? Is he a local P.I., you think? Why would he be tracking her?”

Looking down at the floor between his feet for a moment, Steve thought about the man he’d briefly seen. “He was average height and weight, tan skin, brown hair, SUV had Texas plates, but that could be a rental; I didn’t run it. There wasn’t anything about him that stood out; he was like me, nondescript. That’s one of the reasons I’m a damn good investigator, I look like I fit in no matter where I am. This guy was the same, just normal and average.” Thinking for another minute, he made a decision. “All right, let me tell you what I found out; maybe there’s something in here that will help shed some light on why he would be tracking her movements too.”

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, Steve pulled out his phone. Tapping on the screen for a second, he pulled up the file he was looking for. He cleared his throat and began, “Michaela Trenton Scott goes by Mica. thirty years old, born in Longview, Texas. One brother—a fraternal twin, Michael Scott, and one younger sister, Molly Scott, twenty years old. Father is Trent Scott, sixty-five years old. All except Ms. Scott currently reside in Texas. The mother died when Ms. Scott was fourteen; the family lived on what is called a ‘working ranch’, which basically means they didn’t have any money, and had more work than hours in the day.”

He cut his eyes over to Daniel, watching for his reaction to the next information. “At seventeen, one month before high school graduation, she gave evidence against her father in a rape trial. He was accused of raping a seventeen-year-old minor, a close family friend. Ms. Scott provided testimony against her father, confessing that for more than three years, her father had engaged in unwelcome sexual relations with her, beginning almost immediately following the death of her mother. He had also beaten her regularly, and I can tell you it looks like it was brutal. I have photos from the trial I can print off, showing the injuries if needed. The images seem to line up with what you saw the other night, though.

“After getting a confession plea deal, her father received a slap on the wrist, and after only a few months, he moved back to the ranch. At the same time, the twins moved out, basically going their own ways. The little sister was seven at the time, and she was placed permanently into the custody of the mother’s sister. I guess they understandably didn’t trust the father after what he had done.

“Ms. Scott graduated high school; she was second in her class of 550 students. She attended University of Illinois in Springfield with a dual major in computer science and business, graduating with a 3.6 GPA. Sole owner of MishMash Development, an up-and-coming indie web development company here in Chicago, she has one full-time employee. Until she moved to Illinois, she was heavily involved in the rodeo scene, and had been training horses ‘since she could walk’, according to a couple of people in Longview. Those same folks also volunteered that she could have had a promising career in the equine training field, if she had been interested.

“Ms. Scott competed and performed in rodeos across the southwest for several months after high school, basically until it was time to move into the dorms at UI Springfield. Her roommate at that time is her employee now, Jessica Nalan, 29 years old. Tell Jason that Jess is firmly a lesbian, and in a committed relationship. I did find out something pretty cool—her girlfriend owns your favorite bakery.

“I uncovered several emergency room visits during the break between the trial and college, but there was little information to be had, since they were scattered across several towns and states, and all were so long ago. She pays her taxes, owns her house outright, leases her office space with an option to own, and owes about as much in student loans as you’d expect. She was attacked a few days ago, like you said. My contacts think it was an attempted kidnapping, not a mugging, but they see no other motive than maybe the standard sex slave ring.”