Keeping Allie (Breaking Away #3) by Meli Raine Read Free Book Online Page B

Allie. God help me, I fell in love with him.” Her eyes soften as they catch mine in the mirror. I can’t stop looking at her. Her hands are on my shoulders and she gives me a squeeze. 
    “Did you ever love Jeff?” I ask.
    Her face hardens. “That sonofabitch.”
    “I’ll take that as a ‘no.’”
    Her bitter laugh makes me feel so confused. “I thought I loved him. I thought he loved me. And then he started dealing.”
    “You knew about that?” Mom gently moves me so I face her. She starts putting powder on my skin. I wince as she hits a long gash on my cheekbone. She winces, too.
    “I did.” Her long, weary sigh makes me wonder how much I don’t know.
    “And?”
    “And he swore he’d stop. The bar was losing money and he needed to make some extra. Jeff wasn’t doing meth, just dealing it, blah blah blah,” Mom explains. She gives me a sharp look. “Was he ever mean to you?”
    “Well...”
    “Allie! Did he ever...was he....”
    “No.” I pull my arm out of her grasp. “Of course not, Mom.” My voice comes out nastier than I want it to. “Remember? He was saving me for El Brujo.”
    She goes white as a sheet.
    “That rat bastard. He traded you, too.” 
    I catch her eyes. She’s inches from me, applying blusher now. “Is that what happened to you?” I ask. 
    She’s suddenly as nervous as a jackrabbit. Her hand shakes. She avoids my eyes. It’s hard to do that when you’re four inches from someone’s face.
    “Yes. Jeff traded me to El Brujo to pay off a bad drug deal.”
    My hands start to shake, too.
    “Jesus, Mom. And he faked your death?”
    She swallows, then takes a determined breath in. “Yes.”
    “Why? Why didn’t you run away, or tell the police or—”
    “Because he said El Brujo would come get me anyway, and kill my daughters. Or do worse things to you and Marissa than kill you.” She settles her hands on my shoulders so gently her fingers feel like feathers. 
    All my questions die in my throat.
    “But,” she says, as if we’re just talking about a church service, or a PTA ice cream social, “El Brujo didn’t want me. Said I was too old. He gave me over to the Mephists. I don’t know what they got in return.” She frowns. “Funny. I never asked. They needed someone with nursing experience, and there I was.”  
    Mom’s work as a nurse’s aide. Geez. I’d forgotten.
    “That doesn’t make sense.”
    “Anything connected to drugs and men with power never does, Allie.” Mom sighs as she plugs in a curling iron and presses the on button. The light blinks red, over and over. I know it will turn green. Then it will be hot enough to curl my hair. 
    To make me pretty.
    To make me ready .
    My long-dead mother is primping me like we’re having a princess party and I’m a little girl.
    Except this princess party doesn’t end with a pretend tea and a Disney movie.
    It ends with my being ravaged by a guy who is so powerful and delusional, he thinks I can cure his AIDS.
    I start to tremor and grab the edge of the vanity for support. My chest stops moving. I can’t take air in. I can’t let it out. Any idea that I’m going to make it out of here disappears. Chase is going to fail. Nothing he does will get me out of here. 
    “Honey?” Mom says, grabbing my shoulders. She twists me around. I go limp.
    Her hands cradle my face. My eyes can’t focus.
    El Brujo. I’m being sacrificed to pay a debt. Jeff’s debt. He groomed me for this.
    I start to retch. Mom rushes to find a trash can and sticks it under my head. Nothing comes up, but I keep gagging. She rubs my back, between the shoulder blades, and makes sweet, soothing comments.
    It’s like that one time in third grade when I got the stomach flu.
    Except it’s nothing like that.
    The curling iron sends out a sickly scent of burned hair as the light turns green. I look at my reflection in the mirror. I’m wearing the bra and panties. My skin is so damaged I look like I’ve been tie-dyed in blue and black