Page 78 of Ridin' Free
“Do all your tattoos have some deeper meaning?”
“Some. Not all.”
“The cow skull on your thigh?” I probed.
“Badass.”
I narrowed my eyes at him thoughtfully before I asked, “Spartan on your bicep?”
He spoke through a grin as he replied, “Another time, a different world, I’d be a Spartan not a Stallion.”
There was something about his smile that made me sure I was admiring the little boy in him. It was remarkable, really,how anything childlike could exist inside of the hard, inked, forty-one-year-old outlaw at my side.
“Eagle on your chest?”
He shook his head. “Your turn, sparky.”
“I don’t have any tattoos. You know that,” I shot back with a shrug.
“Not what I meant.” He shifted, letting go of my thigh before extending his arm across the back of the booth behind me, turning his body toward mine. He rested his opposite forearm against the table, almost caging me in. Only, I didn’t feel cornered.
I felt shrouded.
I felt protected.
I feltsafe.
“Tell me somethin’.”
“What?”
“Somethin’ about you. Somethin’ real.” He lowered his voice a notch, his tone almost soothing as he insisted, “Tell me a secret, baby.”
My green eyes locked with his brown ones, I thought long and hard about what I could tell him. There was so much about me he didn’t know—so many secrets I kept from everyone. Phoenix was a closed box, locked tight. But with him, I was more than a pseudonym. I was Ali-Mae—and Ali-Mae wished so desperately to be seen. To be heard. To be understood.
I couldn’t tell him everything. I wouldn’t.
But I could give him a sliver of truth.
“I barely graduated high school,” I began, watching him closely as I spoke. “Things at home were shit. I got behind on homework all the time, and my grades suffered because of it. I wasn’t going to get any scholarships with my GPA, which meant no college, which meant money was going to be the only thing to get me out on my own.”
I paused for a breath, and Benson kept silent, his expression showcasing his curiosity and his patience. Still feeling safe, I kept sharing.
“Georgia worked a pole pretty much my whole life. It’s how she met Tommy. He was a manager at the club where she danced. By the time I was sixteen, Tommy was trying to recruit me as one of his girls. It wasn’t legal, but he swore up and down he’d work around the law. Not that I asked him to. I had no interest in taking my clothes of for a living, and I was pretty adamant about it.
“I was seventeen when I got my first job. I was a waitress at some shit hole in the wall for a while, but it didn’t pay nearly as much as I needed it to. After graduation, I picked up another job doing the same thing—but I couldn’t make the money I wanted fast enough.” I took another breath, willed myself to keep my eyes on his, and kept going.
“The night of my nineteenth birthday was my first shift at the strip club where Georgia danced. To say it was weird as fuck to be on the same stage as my mother is putting it mildly. I hated every second of it.”
Old memories long since locked away began to surface with my admission, crowding my mind. Unable to meet his eyes any longer, I dropped my gaze to Ben’s bearded chin, but I couldn’t stop myself from spilling the secret. The more I shared, the more desperate I felt to get it out.
“Men had to pay extra to touch, but management was shit and guys got away with getting handsy more than they should have. We were supposed to be protected and valued, and neither was true. The first opportunity I had to get the hell out of that place, I took it.”
I closed my eyes, pulling in a deep breath as the memory of my real-life monster raced to the forefront of my mind. The first night I met him, I thought he was safe—the delicate touch of hisfingers brushing mine was tender. It was innocent. I didn’t know then how taking his bait was only trading one hell for another far scarier one.
“Hey.” As Ben spoke, he curled a bent knuckle beneath my chin, lifting my face. I opened my eyes and found his warm, brown gaze intense on me. “Come back to me, Ali.”
I sucked in a deep breath, clawing my way through the darkness of my mind in search of him. Twister. Benson. Not a monster, but my Stallion.
