Page 44 of Finn (Dirty Misfits MC 6)
“That’s good, I guess.”
She shrugged. “It’s not everyone’s thing, but I believe in redemption. I believe in second chances if people are serious about really giving it a second chance and not simply going back to their old ways. But, when I was younger, all I could think about was finding enough money so I could drop out of school, pack up, and go find my sister so we could be happy again. And of course, as you can probably imagine, it didn’t take long to jump from selling drugs to selling my body. I made more money that way, so it made sense. Right?”
It made me sick to my stomach to think about. “How old were you?”
Her sigh told me everything I needed to know. “Fifteen, at the time.”
I clenched my jaw. “I’m so fucking sorry, Sloane.”
She released the tension in her body and rested fully against me. “My best friend at the time, Maria, was the one that really talked me into it. She told me of this thing she was doing where her guy friends would protect her while she was working and nothing bad ever happened to her. She did things that made her feel good and she got paid for it. It sounded like the dream, you know? But, after my first client--who was a much older man than myself--I panicked and sort of had a breakdown and this “friend” that was supposed to be protecting me literally beat the breakdown right out of me.”
My arms clenched around her. “What I wouldn’t do to all of them if they were here right now.”
She snickered. “No fucking kidding. After that happened, though, I stopped hanging around with them. I hid away in my room and when my parents bothered me, I made sure to cover up the bruises with my clothes. It wasn’t until after I graduated that I heard that Maria had been forced into prostitution by the same guy that beat me to a pulp. And I told myself that I’d do whatever I could to get her out of that situation.”
“Is that why you became a cop?”
She nodded. “It’s exactly why. And just after I landed my first gig, Maria called me out of the blue and begged me while crying over the phone to help get her out. That’s where my interest in this particular line of work came from. I wanted to be the one helping other women get out of these types of situations.”
And finally, it clicked. “That’s why you want Summer and Cheyenne out of here so badly.”
She peered up at me. “Exactly. I don’t want either of them to end up where I have already been. I never want either of them to be near these experiences, much less have experiences of their own.”
I gazed into her eyes. “I’m so sorry for all you’ve struggled with all of these years by yourself. But, you aren’t alone. Not anymore. Not as long as you have me. All right?”
The second that tear trickled down her cheeks, the sobs followed right behind. I tucked her face against the crook of my neck as she drenched my shoulder with her tears and I held her as tightly as she could stand. I would have given anything to have taken her pain away. I would have given anything--sworn my soul to any demon--just to shoulder her pain so she didn’t have to feel like that.
Not feasible, obviously. So, I did the next best thing.
I made her a promise.
“No matter what, Sloane, you have my word that I will personally make sure that never happens again. To you, or to Summer, or to Cheyenne. And I’m most certainly a man of my word.”
She drew in broken breaths. “I--can’t--lose--them. Please, I just--can’t--do it--again.”
“Sh sh sh sh sh,” I said softly, “I won’t let that happen. I’ll do whatever you need me to do in order to make sure they are both safe. Okay?”
And as I held her tightly against me in the back of some bullshit rental car, only one thought crossed my mind.
Even if it means my life, Sloane, I’ll make sure your family is okay.
Eighteen
Sloane
After cuddling in the backseat so long that my ass started to go numb, we decided that the best thing to do was head back to the house. There wasn’t anything I could do until I knew whether Beth took the bait or not, so the least we could do was get some sleep.
But, as Finn cranked up the car and eased back down the mountain-hill we had perched on, my cell phone rang.
“You think it’s her?” he asked.
I looked down at the restricted number calling me and I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s her.”
He peeked over at me. “How do you know?”
I turned my phone toward him. “Restricted. We used to do that as well whenever we were calling out so that we didn’t get in trouble for who we were calling.”
