Secrets (19 page)

The real surprise had been his dad.
Initially, after the news of his arrest broke, the old man had
called him every day. After the attempts on his life, his father
had screamed bloody murder, and had insisted the Bureau provide
special security for him. For a short time, he thought the
nightmare would blow over, and his dad would work a miracle to get
him out of this mess. He’d expected his father to pull a rabbit out
of a hat at the sentencing. But, the old man hadn’t shown or sent
word through the attorney. Frowning, he tried to recall the last
communication he’d had with his dad. Reality had settled in earlier
this week when he’d arrived at the intake facility. He was in
prison. The clang of the cell door broke his concentration.

A bunk bed, a sink, toilet, and beige walls
greeted him. He glanced around while the guards set about releasing
his chains and making snide comments about someone coming to see
him or something like that. Over the course of his trial he’d
learned to shut out the sneers and taunting remarks from the cops,
and now the guards. Even now, in the back of his mind he still
believed his dad would swoop in and somehow make all this go away.
Stepping into the six by eight foot cage, that belief shattered
under the hammer of reality as he stared at the concrete wall in
front of him, and felt the cold steel of the bars at his back.

Something twisted in his stomach. Fear?
Dread? Disappointment?
Daddy didn’t fix it this time
. Of all
the times for the old man to gird up to teach him a lesson, this
sucked big time. A tingling started at the base of his neck. His
heart beat in his ears. The door closed, leaving him alone with his
clamoring thoughts.
Prison
? It wasn’t supposed to go down
like this.

In a stupor, he plopped down onto the bottom
bunk, head in his hands. How long, he couldn’t be sure. He wondered
what had happened to Mike. What would happen to him? He’d heard
stories, sickening stories that his forty-three year old mind
refused to contemplate. In the distance, the heavy sound of
footfalls caught his attention. He stood and backed up against the
wall near the stainless steel sink. For some reason, his mind
zeroed in on the beat of the steps, his heart picked up the rhythm,
binding them together. Sweat dripped from his forehead as the steps
drew closer. Intuitively, he knew his cell was their destination. A
myriad of scenarios crossed his mind, none of them pleasant.

Three men walked into his cell. Even as new
as he was to the system, he knew two beds and four men in the same
room spelled trouble. His mouth was so dry he couldn’t speak if he
wanted. Nothing to do but wait it out.

“Welcome to the dungeon,” the black male
said in a low-pitched voice. His scowling face at odds with his
greeting. He flexed his large tattooed biceps before crossing his
arms and widening his stance. Shirt open, displaying large pecs,
and pants low enough on his hips that wisps of pubic hair waved
above the band. Fear lodged in Justin’s throat, they’d come to rape
him and no one would interfere. He barely managed a nod before the
large Hispanic male spoke.

“We are here to make sure you have a nice
visit and to instruct you on the rules of engagement.” He peeled
off his shirt. Justin’s eyes widened at the various tattoos
covering the man’s wide chest and arms. His back hit the concrete
wall. All three men grinned, stepped forward, and closed the cell
door behind them.

The third man was Asian. “You have done the
warden a favor.” He pointed to the other men with him. “As a
general rule, you’d never catch the three of us in a room together
working toward a common goal. But you,
Congressman Winters
,
you have done the impossible. You have given us each a reason to
work together.”

Justin’s breath hitched. He wanted to speak,
to explain, but nothing emerged from his throat. Dots danced before
his eyes as the shorter Asian man stripped off his shirt as well. A
beautiful red and green dragon graced chest and stomach, with the
tail ending in his pubic area. Tremors wracked his body as the
Asian stepped closer to him. Breathing became impossible as the
reality of the situation crashed over him. The Asian stood, arms
akimbo, an evil sneer on his features. “My name is Lei. Remember
it, Bitch. I won the coin toss, so I get to break you in first.”
Justin vomited over the floor and fell retching to his knees.
“Check this out, Julio. The motherfucker understands his position
already.” Lei snatched him by the hair and pulled his head
back.

“Unh,” Justin grunted at the excruciating
pain.

The three men laughed. “I should make your
lick up your shit.” Lei pulled his hair so hard a few strands
floated to the floor. His breath grazed Justin’s cheeks. “If you
ever do that again, you will lick it up.”

Justin’s face heated. His heart beat so hard
and fast in his chest, he’d swear everyone in the room could hear
it. He wished the gun would’ve found it’s mark rather than suffer
through this.

The Hispanic male moved closer to his face.
“Is it true you don’t like white meat?” Justin didn’t have time to
wrap his mind around the question; Julio pulled out his long thick
cock and slapped it against Justin’s face repeatedly.

“I heard you were very particular about
where you put that pecker of yours,” the black male said, crowding
closer. Justin couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, as the three men
circled him like sharks smelling blood. Lightheaded, his head
dipped only to be grabbed beneath his chin.

“Do you want to live through tonight,
hombre?” The dangerous growl bounced off the walls. Justin’s eyes
opened wide as the hand on his neck tightened. Unable to speak, he
nodded.

“Open wide, muthafucker. There’s some Asian
cock on the menu. We heard you like Asians, and blacks, and
Latinos. So this lineup is just for you.” He squeezed Justin’s jaws
until his mouth formed a wide 'O'. A musty smelling cock brushed
against his lips before someone squeezed his jaw again. Opening
wider against the pain, before he could blink, his mouth was rammed
full. He gagged.

“You bite it, you die.”

Mouth full, he did the only thing feasible
in his situation and sucked hard.

An hour or a day later, Justin groaned,
rolling onto his side. His bleeding ass was on fire, his jaw had to
be unhinged. Semen covered his ass, face, hair, and chest. In the
past few hours, he’d learned three things. First, they weren’t
going to kill him, not yet anyway. Lei had said death was too good
for him. Kicking his ass until he wished he were dead was another
matter. Second, he was a toy someone had given to these gang
leaders and they planned to fuck him daily. In their minds, he was
their bitch. Individually, each man outweighed him substantially
and could beat the shit out of him. All three of them together,
well, he was just fucked. Third, the prison administration was
aware of tonight’s events. There would be no Calvary coming to his
rescue. If he wanted to live, he needed to come up with a plan that
would get him off his knees. If the warden allowed this violation,
that meant he had no fear of reprisal from his father, the Senator,
or anyone else. A cold shiver slid down his spine. Not only had he
been thrown under the bus, but the damn thing had ran over him.

Glancing through lowered lids, Justin
watched the black guy pull up his pants. That bastard had rammed
him so hard in the ass, Julio and Lei had laughed while his insides
were re-arranged. The black son-of-a-bitch snickered down at him.
“You best be glad you didn’t fuck anybody I knew. No amount of free
shit would stop me from killing your punk ass.”

“Move it, Rodney,” the guard said before
closing the door behind him, leaving Justin alone with his
roommate, Julio.

“Get over here, slut.” Julio motioned to the
bottom bunk.

“I can’t mov— Ow,” he yelped as Julio yanked
him by the hair and dragged him on his knees to the bed. His chin
bounced on the iron rail, teeth rattling as he blinked back tears
of pain.

“Have you forgotten the first rule, Bitch?
You don’t open your mouth unless I tell you, and that’ll be to suck
whatever cock I tell you. Now get your ass up on this bed and clean
me up.” Julio laid on the bed, cock pointing to the upper bunk, and
glared at him.

Jaw aching, knees bruised, without a word
Justin leaned forward and began the arduous process of licking his
roommate clean.

A security guard walked to the darkened cell
and spoke through the bars. “By the way, Anna said she’d see you
soon.”

Justin broke down in tears.

Chapter
16

“The jury returned with a guilty verdict
against Mike Griffin after two hours in deliberation. He will be
sentenced tomorrow.” The anchor went on discussing more news.

“Yeah!” Sven shouted as he shot out of his
seat. Chastity smiled at his enthusiasm. You’d think he was
personally responsible for the man’s capture and sentencing. “It’s
about time. Tomorrow we’ll see if the system is just and fair.”

“In a few days, he’ll be in prison. Do you
know which one he’s going to?” She picked up the dish she’d washed
and placed it in the cabinet.

“Don’t matter which one. Mr. B’s got’em all
covered.” His lips spread into a wide grin. “Griffin was a big
fish, all the others copped a plea. Since he took it to trial, all
the evidence will became public, and more people will know about
human trafficking and child prostitution.”

“I was surprised how many people protested
against Winters and Griffin. It’s a shame so many children suffer
through abuse. It’s not right.” She thought of her own children,
how she’d feel, what she’d do if anything happened to them. The
thought left her cold and achy.

Kenton walked in and kissed her cheek. He
nodded at Sven and handed her a folder.” I picked this up from the
front gate; Fed Ex had just delivered it when I drove up.”

Opening the seal, she pulled out a manila
folder. Flipping the packet over, she recognized Mr. Baxter’s NTK
insignia on the flap. Her eyes slid from the packet to Kenton and
then Sven. Both men watched her. “Who’s sending these?”

Kenton shrugged and looked at Sven.

“I don’t know, but I doubt it's one person,
he was too careful for that.” Sven sat on a stool, waiting.

Breaking the seal, she saw a DVD, some
pictures and sheets of paper. Inhaling, she pulled the sheets out
first and read.

After a few moments, she crumpled the pages
and closed her eyes. “No, no, no,” she moaned collapsing into a
chair. Unbelievable pain raced through her, tingles of cold ran
through her veins.

“What is it?” Kenton asked, kneeling in
front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her throbbing head. “Why?” Pushing
aside his questions, she returned to that question.

“Why what?” Kenton asked.

Holding the paper up, she looked at him.
“Mr. Baxter says my mom died ten years ago, breast cancer. Why am I
just finding out now?” She pushed him back, stood, and looked
around the room. “How could he have kept that from me?”

No one spoke. She glanced at the paper in
her hand. “I’m from Georgia, did you know that?”

Kenton shook his head. “No. I didn’t know.”
His voice pensive.

“All this time, Mr. Baxter knew and he never
told me. My oldest brother, Joey is in Macon State prison for
assault and battery. My youngest brother, Rodney, who I don’t
remember by the way, is in the same gang as Joey. His whereabouts
couldn’t be verified, but he may be in another prison in another
state. I have no idea how old he is. Why don’t I know that? He’s my
brother for God’s sake.” She ran her hand through her messy curls,
pacing in front of the desk while slapping the letter against her
thigh.

“I have two sisters. Two. Yvonne and Ashley.
Both of them live in Colorado Springs with their husbands.
Military. I have no clue what their last names are, what they look
like, if they have kids, or anything about them. Not that it
matters because I’ve been stuck here in Pennsylvania for the past
eighteen years. The rest of the world doesn’t exist for me, does
it?” She shouted at the letters in her hand before balling them
tighter and throwing them into the unlit fireplace. “This is my
life, damn it. He should’ve told me. I should’ve made the decision
whether or not to contact them.” She looked heavenward, her throat
tight as it squeezed out the next words. “You’re not God, Mr.
Baxter.” She turned toward the door and ran outside.

Her feet propelled her toward the barn,
muttering as she worked out her frustration. Mr. Baxter never let
on he was searching for my family, not once in all this time. What
if he knew about mama before she died? Is it possible he discovered
where she was from right after he found her? “He said he believed
God brought me into his life,” she murmured. The last part of his
letter reverberated through her mind.

Forgive me for being selfish and waiting
until after my death to give you this information. If your mother
had been alive, I would have contacted her immediately. Since that
was not the case, and your siblings were in either foster care or
placed with relatives, I decided to wait until you were stronger
and more secure. Once again, forgive me for my high-handedness. I
assure you I have only your best interest at heart.

Everything was about him, what he wanted,
what he thought was best. But he wasn’t her. He had no idea how
many nights she had laid awake crying for her mama, scared shitless
that the foggy image in her mind would one day disappear
altogether. Or the hazy images a four-year-old had of her brothers
and sisters that were replaced or mistaken with those of other kids
in servitude with her. Despite whatever situation her family had
been in, they were still her family and she’d needed them.
Sniffling, she waved away a group of gnats flying in front of her
and the sting of a mosquito. She spun at the small sound behind
her. That’s when she realized how far she’d walked from the house.
The sky dimmed, her head wobbled, cotton filled her mouth. Blinking
she moved toward her fortress of safety, knowing she’d never make
it. Sluggish, the thought of her children, made her push through
the darkening fog.