Page 5 of Comforted By The Mountain Man
It's a good question. Why would I help a complete stranger who just tried to assault me with bathroom equipment? Why would I offer to fix her problems when I've got enough of my own?
I look at her standing there in her makeshift sheet, water dripping from her hair, exhaustion written in every line of her body. And I think about the kid she mentioned, probably sleeping in one of the bedrooms, completely unaware that his world just got a little more complicated.
"Because it's the right thing to do," I tell her, and realize I mean it completely.
She stares at me for a long moment, searching my face for something. Whatever she finds there must satisfy her, because she nods slowly.
"Okay," she says. "But I can't pay you. I don't have any money."
"I didn't ask for money."
"Then what do you want?"
The question hangs in the air between us, loaded with implications I'm not ready to examine. I want to know why she's here, why she chose a falling-down cabin in the middle of nowhere to start over. I want to know about the fear I saw in her eyes when she thought I was going to hurt her. I want to know everything about her, and that realization should scare the hell out of me.
Instead, I just say, "I want to make sure you and your kid are safe."
Her expression softens around the edges of her face.
"I'm Sierra," she says quietly. "Sierra Martinez."
"Nice to meet you, Sierra Martinez," I reply, and despite the circumstances, I find myself meaning that too. "Even if you did try to murder me with a plunger."
That earns me a small smile, the first one I've seen from her, and it transforms her entire face. Beautiful doesn't even begin to cover it.
"Sorry about that," she says, not sounding sorry at all. "I thought you were..."
"Someone else," I finish when she trails off. There's a story there, one that involves the kind of fear I saw in her eyes. But that's for another time.
"Yeah," she says simply.
I look around the water-damaged room, already mentally cataloging what needs to be fixed and how long it'll take. This isn't a small job, but I've handled worse. And something tells me that helping Sierra Martinez might be the most important thing I've done in a very long time.
"Well," I say, "we should probably start cleaning up this mess."
3
SIERRA
“Mira como tiembla,” cackles Viper about my trembling body, standing in the center of their clubhouse common room.
I frantically look between the vile, sweaty men whose pores ooze sour liquor, trying to find my little boy.
“Oscar, where’s Ryder?” I cry out, but I can’t see Oscar either.
“Bitch has had it coming. No one to protect her now,” Sulfer’s yellow-stained teeth proudly display as he approaches.
He’s the MC club member I’ve done everything in my power to avoid all these years. Too many have tried something—anything—when Oscar wasn’t looking, but even what they call, Club Whores, have stepped in to shield me, tempting the MC members into a corner with their mouths.
“Ryder!” I dart under Sulfer, the Club’s VP, but he grabs my arm, yanking me into his beer belly. “Oscar!” A blood curdling cry rips from my throat.
The other men mock me, also crying out Oscar’s name in their attempted female impersonation.
“When I’m done with that clean pussy,” Sulfer’s rancid breath suffocates me as he bends down, making me suck in the same air. “Your boy is next,” he smiles.
I scream.
“Mama?”
