I don’t see Nova for the rest of the night. I guess she took off early. I leave shortly after ten, heading back to my place as I think about tonight. Nova looked relieved when I told her about Bobby. Yeah, there’s a problem to deal with, but that won’t be for six months.
We will have plenty of time to decide how we’re going to dismantle him. I didn’t tell Nova, but he’d also been in and out of jail for domestic abuse and assault. He just can’t seem to keep his hands off women. I can’t wait to put my hands on him, and not in a good way.
I stay up way too late researching Bobby, making sure there’s nothing I missed, or if he’s working with anyone who may have been an accomplice. All bases must be covered because when that fucker is released, he’s not gonna breathe air one more day on the outside.
I open one of the files I’ve been working on in my spare time named:The Directors.
When Willow was snatched recently by a crazy stalker working for — we thought — the cartel, she mentioned this group of people that were coming to collect her from her kidnappers. A lot of people weren’t happy with the MC, or the NOPD, for taking down a massive trafficking organization a while back. But it’s like whack-a-mole with these assholes. You take one down, then another one pops up. It’s become a hobby of mine to locate these organizations and try to bring them down. Brew has never forgiven himself for not protecting his first girlfriend after traffickers murdered her. At the time they’d broken up and she went traveling, unfortunately the unthinkable happened and Brew’s kinda made it his missionin life to stop these people, as am I. I know I’m an anomaly; usually it’s women and minors that are trafficked, but I was a teenager when it happened to me. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, and that’s saying something. Some part of me knows the people I was working for groomed me and it all started from running errands. It made me feel important at first. Then upgrading to the middleman for drug deals, collecting payments, and drops offs. I was thirteen years old. Yeah, I knew right from wrong, but I was rebellious. I didn’t like authority, and I thought those people were just looking out for me. It turned out they were nothing short of demons in disguise. Ever since I got out, I’ve made it my mission in life to protect innocent people, children in particular, from the horrors. The thing that gets me is how people just bury their heads in the sand when it is happening all over the globe. It’s a worldwide pandemic, yet you hardly ever see anything about it on the news.
I swallow hard at some things I’ve seen on the dark web. Not that I seek it out, but my job sometimes requires me to hack into mainframes and people’s computers. Let me tell you, there are some fucked up people out there.
I glance down as a text pops through.
Nova
Did you get home OK?
I texted her earlier, but she hadn’t replied.
Me
Yeah, you?
Nova
Yep. Tucked up in bed
I try not to imagine her tucked up in bed and my dick stirs at the memory of her in my Guns n’ Roses t-shirt. Tonight she brought up that thing again:We both have needs.
I completely changed the subject because I didn’t know what to say. I’m a pussy, and I’m not proud of it. I need to man up.
Something is wrong with me, I know that. Being broken isn’t something I can just fix with therapy or with the click of my fingers. I wish it were that simple. I think I’ll always be damaged goods no matter what, but I also don’t want that to be my story. I don’t want a pity party or anyone to feel sorry for me. It was a long time ago, and I’ve partly shifted to the path of recovery. I don’t want to be a victim for the rest of my life, but forgetting isn’t that easy. I’ll never forget. I’ll also never forgive those that did that to me, and I’ve been hunting them down ever since with the help of the Nomad Brothers. The trouble with organizations is they move around too much. I’m lucky that the brothers’ beliefs align with mine, as do the MC, and whenever we get a whiff of trafficking in Louisiana, we’re the first to take matters into our own hands.
Me
Such a good girl
I don’t even mean that sexually, but after I send it, I immediately see the implication.
Nova
Did you have too much to drink tonight? When am I ever a good girl?
Me
You are for me
Nova
You’re such a good flirt
Me
I wasn’t even meaning to flirt. You’re a good person, Nova. I want you to know that
Jesus, why am I getting heavy all of a sudden? Maybe it’s the inner monologue, and the fact her abuser is behind bars. It buys us time, but it also makes Nova feel safe. Not that she has anything to worry about.
Nova