Abandoned Angel (6 page)

Sometime in the middle of the night, Justin had awakened in the dark, groggy and scared, and cried out for his mom. He was heartbroken when she did not answer. When he asked where she was, his dad had gotten mad and screamed at him to shut up. A shocked Justin cried silently for a long time after that, wanting his mother to return. He was not used to anyone yelling at him like that, and it scared him. His Daddy seemed mean, and he did not want to be with him. Finally, his small, tired body gave in to exhaustion and he fell back to sleep. That was hours ago. He was awake again, and it frustrated Rusty.

“No,” snarled Rusty, “We are not almost there!”

His strong voice shook with anger. Justin had asked him that same damn question too many times, and he was quickly losing his patience with the boy. He was hungry, tired, sick of the kid, and sick of the drive. The idea that Angelina would be desperately missing Justin, kept him on track, and kept him from completely losing it with the boy.

“Quit asking me questions and color in your coloring book,” barked Rusty. He was trying to keep his anger under control, but the longer he drove with his son in the truck, the harder it became. His knuckles turned from a light tan color to almost white as his tense hands grasped the old steering wheel tightly.

Justin had been asleep when Rusty pulled off the side of the empty road and pushed Angelina out of the passenger side of the filthy truck. She landed with a hard thud on the rough parking lot floor. She was out cold from the drugs he had given her, and the lifeless sound her body made as she hit the firm ground made Rusty smile with delight. Angelina had slept for a long time in the truck, through most of the night, and the longer she lay there, the more livid Rusty became. He had wanted the drugs to wear off so that he could inflict more pain on her. Unfortunately, he had given her more than he should have, causing her to sleep longer than he had intended. His plan had been to have Angelina watch him drive off with their son, but that hadn’t happened.

Rusty grinned at the thought of the butt of his rifle landing on her at the trailer house. It had been a long time since he had been able to hurt the wench, and the thought of it revived him. He grinned as he pictured her begging him to let them go. The bitch, she actually thought he intended to hurt his own son! In Rusty’s mind, Justin was all she had ever cared about, and now Angelina would know what it was like for Rusty, sitting in jail, no visitors, having the bitch refuse to bring the boy in to see him. He intended to make sure that she would never see Justin again. Rusty laughed at the thought, proud of what he had accomplished. He was sure that the weak woman would not survive.

Rusty had warned his wife. He told Angelina he would throw her white trash ass away if she did not start treating him right, and he did just that. Rusty smirked. He actually, literally threw her away. The thought amused him. The plan he had come up with while sitting in the grungy jail all those months excited him. He thought about it constantly, flipping the idea thru his thoughts repeatedly. He wanted Angelina to pay. Taking her son away from her would be the best revenge ever. It was just a chance of luck that he had overheard inmates talking about that biker clubhouse. It was the perfect place to drop her, being in the middle of nowhere. He imagined what it must have been like when the bikers found her lying in their parking lot, helpless and alone. He prayed that the stories he heard about the motorcycle gang that used the clubhouse were true. He hoped the bikers would rape her, repeatedly. He wanted them to torture her and then leave her to die out there in the middle of nowhere. More than anything, though, he hoped that she was alive long enough to know that he had taken their son, and that she would never again see her precious baby boy. The best part would be the pain that Angelina would feel not knowing where Justin was. Again, he snickered at the thought, his obscure eyes lighting up, reassuring himself that he had done the right thing.

Although Rusty had convinced himself that Angelina deserved what she got, he would still have to come up with a story about what had happened to her. Justin, naïve and young as he is, would be easy enough to handle. Rusty’s meddling mother would not be. The first time Justin had awoken and cried for his mom from the back of the truck, the night air was dark, and the boy still groggy from the drugs. He had fallen back to sleep clinging to that stupid white, tattered stuffed bunny he carried so often. The second time that Justin awoke and cried for Angelina was harder for Rusty to handle. The pill he had given Justin had started to wear off, and to Rusty it felt as if Justin had cried for hours. In order to get his son to stop babbling, Rusty told the kid that his mommy decided to meet them at Grandma’s house after all. He assured Justin that he would get to see his mommy again when they got there. This put a soft smile on his tear stained face and quieted him down. Kids were so easy to fool. Rusty knew that Maxine, his mother, would require a better lie.

It had been years since Rusty had been back to the small farm where his mother raised him. He hated everything about the place. As far as he was concerned, it only held bad memories. When his father died a while back, he talked cordially to his mom on the phone, telling her how sorry he was, but truth be told, Rusty was glad his old man was gone. He had taken his share of beatings from the bastard, and although he handled it like a man, starting at a young age, he would never forgive his dad for hurting him as he did. He had a rough childhood and resented his parents because of it.

It always bothered Rusty to see his dad raise a hand to his quiet mother. In his eyes, she was weak. He understood that she could do nothing about the beatings he received, but he silently blamed her for them just the same. She never stopped his father from handing out the abuse, though occasionally, when she attempted to intervene, she took abuse right along with him. Rusty left their home when he was seventeen, and had only been back to the farmhouse a handful of times since then. Not liking the connection that Angelina seemed to have made with Rusty’s mother on his last visit home, he began to refuse his mother’s calls. When Maxine finally accepted that Rusty did not want anything to do with her, she quit trying to reach him. Rusty, feeling confident and in control, told Angelina that the old bat had died, and that the aged house had been sold to the neighbors and torn down. Angelina never understood how Rusty could be so cold to his own family, but as far as Rusty knew, she bought the story. Even if the bikers let Angelina survive, she would have no reason to look for Justin there.

Justin’s light brown hair and suspicious eyes reminded Rusty of the way Angelina looked at him when she declared she would not visit him in jail. In his mind, she had betrayed him, and she would suffer for it. He had sworn that he would never abuse his own child, as he
had been beaten
, and took pride in the fact that he had never laid a hand on Justin. He fought hard with himself not to do it now. Justin’s constant whining in the back seat made Rusty want to reach around and slap his puffy faced son hard across his pouting mouth, and make him grow up a bit.

Not now,
Rusty reminded himself. He could punish Justin later if he needed to. For now, he needed to be patient and earn the boys trust. He needed to hurry and get to the place where he had grown up, miserable as it was. Rusty wanted to start over, without that traitorous wife by his side. He would find someone better than her - someone who would be obedient to him. Until then, his mother could dote on the snotty nosed kid, taking care of him as necessary.

------

It was late in the afternoon. The group of motorcycles had been riding hard for most of the day. The sun set high in the clouds and Angelina was no longer cold on the back seat of the bike. She had not been for some time. The hot sun beat down on her bruised face, warming her exhausted body deep inside. She had grown accustomed to the cacti and dirt, and the occasional batch of trees that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. The afternoon was amazingly peaceful as they drove, following behind the other bikers. The shades of color, the stillness of the air and the natural beauty, calmed her. Angelina needed to feel calm in order to keep herself from panicking. Tears flooded her eyes as she pictured Rusty standing there on her broken porch, rifle in hand, ready to take control of his family. She was grateful that he had sent Justin into the living room to watch his favorite cartoon while he ate. Angelina wasn’t sure if her little boy had seen any of the abuse Rusty inflicted, but she hoped not. She prayed that the pill Rusty smashed into his drink knocked him out before Rusty put either of them in the truck. Otherwise,
Justin would have been terrified by the sight of his mother in an unconscious state
.

When her stomach growled, she remembered that she had not eaten since lunch the day before. She had somehow managed to allow herself to feel a calm comfort for the last hour or so. Before that, it was despair. Deep, snarling despair over what was happening to her son. She kept telling herself that Rusty would not hurt Justin, he had never hurt him, and he would not do it now. The aching was there just the same. Rusty was different after jail time, his eyes gave his anger away. As much as she tried to convince herself that he would not hurt their son, she truly did not know.

Angela recalled the shocked look on her husband’s face when she had first told him that she was pregnant. For an instant he bore a look of anger and disappointment, but as quickly as she had caught this look, it disappeared. Rusty then flashed a smile and appeared overjoyed over the idea of having a baby to call their own. He was gentle with Angelina during the pregnancy, and for a while, she thought the baby had actually changed him, but he hadn’t. As the baby demanded her attention, Rusty became jealous and cruel, and started using drugs more heavily. He never figured out how to handle Justin, same as he never learned how to control his ugly temper. Rusty had always pushed the work of having a child off on Angelina, and then took it out on her when she gave their son too much attention. It had been a no win situation for the mother, so she did her best to care for her child.

Ahead of Angelina and Blaze, the other bikers began to slow down. One at a time, they motioned for the bikers behind them to turn off the main road onto a quiet gravel one. Although there was a bit of distance between the other bikers and Blaze, it was easy to follow their tracks as the dust blew up behind the slow moving bikes. Blaze braked to nearly a complete stop. He waited for the dust to settle before he followed the others down the pebble filled, gravel road. They inched along at a snail’s pace for nearly two miles before they turned down a path created among collections of trees. The breath taking greenery placed amidst the hard desert landscape surprised Angelina. It was very out of place, carrying an eerie feel to the atmosphere. As they pulled up Angelina noticed that there were a number of bikers already camped out; some of them were napping on the ground, and a few had small tents up. Angelina wondered why they were stopping and hoped they would not be staying for long. Maybe the men needed to rest. Although worn out and sore from the constant ride, she wanted to keep going. She needed to get to where Justin would be, and as soon as possible. She had not considered the fact that they would not actually ride all day.

Blaze parked his bike alongside a cluster of trees. Most of the bikers they were riding with had already pulled in and started unloading their bikes by the time Angelina and Blaze pulled up. Blaze had driven slowly on the gravel road to keep from getting rock dings on his bike. He hated to drive on gravel roads, because doing so always gave him the overwhelming urge to wipe down the chromed bike, until its metal sparkle in the sunlight, and then park it in the garage - as he used to.

His wife often teased him about it.

“You are such a perfectionist,” she would say, her smile drawing him in. “Are you afraid to dirty the bike my big bad husband?”

He loved the way her mouth curled and her intense blue eyes sparkled when she teased him. He missed that. Now, Blaze hated to drive on gravel roads, not because of the dust and the dings, but because it reminded him of his wife, and the life he used to have, and he did not want to remember how it used to be. Blaze avoided gravels whenever he could.

“What are we doing here?” Angelina asked as she eased her stiff body over the back of the seat onto the ground. Along with her sensitive ribs, her lower back now ached from sitting so long in one position.

“It’s time to rest,” Blaze answered. “We’ll stay here for the night.”

“
FOR THE NIGHT
?” Angelina raised her voice in alarm.

“We can’t stay here for the night, I have to get to Iowa; you said that you would take me,” stated Angelina, panic taking hold of her.

A quick reacting Blaze swung his body around and grabbed the upper part of her arm, his fingers dug into her pink skin. His free hand latched on to the front of her neck, and he stringently held her throat, preventing her from moving. Caught off guard, Angelina gasped to catch her breath. What had triggered the anger? Stopped in mid-sentence, she attempted to take a deep breath, and waited for what was to come. She had forgotten her place.

“I decide what happens on this trip, NOT YOU!” Blaze shouted.

His solid grip tightened around her tanning arm. He could see that Angelina’s face had more bruising on it then it did that morning but refused to allow it to concern him. That was not his doing, therefore, not his problem. They were almost nose-to-nose as Blaze spoke, with a hushed growl deep in his throat. He meant what he said; Angelina could feel it in the tension. Once again, the inexplicable feeling of helplessness overcame her every being.