A/N: That may have been the best cliffhanger I've EVER written. :D So you all want explanations now, right? Deal. Thank you to those of you who reviewed. I truly truly appreciate your feedback and value my readers so very much. And thank you all for sticking with me! I know it's taken some time to update and honestly, had I just cranked out chapter after chapter, this wouldn't have happened. Sometimes my ideas come to me after like months of loathing my writing skills all together.

Chapter Eleven

Seeing the picture was a jarring shock that came on with an uncaring ferocity. Suffocation came with it, constricting his throat, making breathing a near painful experience. It had been years since Donovan had felt that kind of heart wrenching agony. He thought it was buried away under the thick layers of a criminal persona he'd built up to hide it away.

All it took was one image thrown in his face and those carefully erected walls were shattered.

"What do you mean, she's just like mom?"

Johnny's voice sounded far off - like it was coming through a tunnel.

With shaking fingers, Donovan traced the curve of the young woman's jaw, seeing liquid brown instead of stormy gray, straight falls of midnight instead of wavy blonde.

"Dad?"

Donovan jerked his head up and immediately saw a guard's narrowed gaze fixed on them. Trying to appear calm when he felt nowhere near, he folded the picture and handed it back to Johnny. "Put that back in your pocket. Don't show anyone."

"I wasn't going to. I just wanted you to know about her. Dad, what-."

"I'll tell you everything I can. Just, put that away first."

Johnny frowned, but did as he was told.

Donovan made a pitiful attempt to steady himself. In the back of his mind, free from the box he'd locked them in, memories floated along on a beautiful swell of flawless alto.

Her voice.

"That mom of yours," he started, emotion roughening his voice, "she could sing. Probaby where ya got it from. Didn't hear that voice of hers until weeks after I'd found her…"

27 years back….

"This place used to be nothin'. Just some dive bar off the grid. But I guess they got this show now that's drawin' guys in from all around. 'Ol Bruce ain't doin' too bad for himself, now."

Donovan hummed a response from the back seat of the extended cab truck, watching the scenery pass by as Mick cruised the highway five miles over the speed limit. He wasn't particularly interested in anything Mick had to say regarding Bruce. Bruce and Mick traveled in circles Donovan did his best to avoid when possible. The circles that involved the using of drugs, trafficking of drugs, prostitution and wide-scale organized crime.

The only reason he tolerated Mick was that Mick was family.

In the last week, Mick had lost his mother. Her sister, Donovan's mother, had asked Donovan to keep an eye on Mick for a while to make sure he was okay.

He was three days into "a while" and wished he'd never heard of Mick. The other man had propositioned him several times to join up with their gang, trying to tempt him with offers of women, money and a lifetime of protection. Donovan didn't want any of it and he sure as hell didn't want to live a life that would require any amount of protection.

Not wanting what Mick was offering wasn't enough to keep Donovan from being collateral damage.

At that moment he was stuck in the backseat with his friend Barry, his cousin Tony taking up shotgun while Mick drove them to some dive-bar-turned-nightclub on the outskirts of the city. He hadn't wanted to go with but his mother had begged him to, asking him to make sure that nothing Mick was involved in would land him in an early grave.

They pulled into a parking lot jammed full of cars and Mick made a parking spot on the grass. "Alright, boys. Let's go see what everyone's talkin' about."

Donovan bit back a groan and followed the group towards the steady thump of bass. Men stood scattered outside the entrance, smoking. Mick nodded to a large rhino with an eye patch who gazed suspiciously at the rest of the group before nodding. "Mick."

"How's your evening been, Sid?"

Sid leered. "'Bout to get a whole lot better. You here for the show?"

"Hell yeah. Finally got a chance to make it out."

"You're in for a real treat, man. Ain't nothin' like it. Who're your friends?"

Sid took a step to the side and gestured to them. "Couple of my boys. Barry's a friend of the family and these are my cousins Tony and Donovan. Don here's a bit green."

Fighting back a sneer, Donovan inclined his head. He hated it when Mick shortened his name like that almost as much as he hated how Mick called him "green" like it was some kind of character flaw that was impossible to overlook.

The rhino looked him over, a gleam in his eye that Donovan didn't trust at all. "You gonna break him in?"

"Think Bruce'll let me?"

"Guy his size? Bruce ought to see the value in that."

"Kid's smart, too. Straight A nerd all through high school and had a bunch of free rides thrown at him by swanky ass colleges but turned 'em down to take care of my aunt."

Donovan hated the way they were talking around him like he wasn't standing right there but he forced his features to remain impassive. He just needed to make it through this evening, keep Mick alive and make sure the idiot hadn't backed himself into any corners. Then he'd go home, tell his mom he loved her but wouldn't be babysitting Mick anymore.

"Go on in. Mick's table is on the left of the stage. You'll know it when you see it. Enjoy, boys."

The club was dark, rank with the scent of booze, smoke and sweat. At one end, tucked under an overhang, was a massive bar manned by a moose and two water buffalo who were in constant motion, mixing drinks and handing them to customers at the bar or filling the trays of wait staff.

At the other end was a stage with a wide runway that jutted out into a sea of tables filled with men. Some talked, others greedily watched the dancers gyrating on stage.

Dancers received no payment of tips here. Mick had given them every lurid detail on the way there. Instead of tips, dancers were sold to the highest bidder and disappeared into rooms behind the bar. Mick had bragged about the operation - how the bar earned more that way, how it brought in the men with serious money, not just the ones looking to get their rocks off, how the percent the dancers would receive was far more than they would collect in tips.

"They know who's loaded and how to keep Bruce happy," he'd said.

Bruce himself, a rough looking grizzly in gold and expensive looking leather, was holding court at the table Sid said he would be at, three other grizzlies around him. Seated beside him was a wolverine. He leaned close to Bruce, casting anxious glances at the stage.

As their group approached the table, the wolverine sat back, scowling, while Bruce offered them a wide grin.

"Mick, you finally made it," he said in a heavily accented voice. His gaze cut to Donovan. "I don't recognize this one."

Mick elbowed Donovan forward. "My cousin, Donovan."

Bruce gave him a critical once over that made his stomach twist uncomfortably. He didn't like Bruce. The guy clearly flaunted his power and gave off an air of entitlement. But there was something else - something sinister that emanated from him.

"You've come for the show, no doubt. You've picked a good night, my friend. Have you had a chance to consider my offer?"

Mick gave them a pointed look. "Why don't you guys go get some drinks and enjoy the view for a bit. Me an' Bruce have some business to discuss."

It wasn't a suggestion.

It was an order.

Donovan knew he should speak up, to make some excuse to stay, but he also knew that he was going to need some alcohol in his system if he was going to make it through the evening.

He fell into step between Barry and Tony, catching the movement of one of the grizzlies at the table as he stood and followed them.

"You ever been here?" Donovan asked Barry, keeping his voice low.

"No, I haven't. Not really my scene." Barry shot a nervous glance at their tag-along. "Kinda prefer to feel relaxed when I'm out, ya know?"

They got their drinks and found an empty table not far from Mick and Bruce.

"You know he wants you in," Barry said after a while. He kept his eyes on the dancers, but Donovan knew that he was aware of everything around him. That was the reason Mick had him locked into a roll with his group - Barry had a keen awareness of his surroundings at all times, something he was able to maintain even when his focus was on one thing.

Donovan took the straw from his drink and set it aside before taking a long sip. "I know. Ain't gonna happen."

One of Bruce's lackies approached the stage, motioning impatiently to a young gazelle. Her face remained expressionless as she descended the steps of the stage, allowed him to take her arm and walked with him towards the back rooms. A hippo waited in the doorway, grinning and eager.

A quick word with the customer, an exchange of funds.

Another transaction complete.

It made Donovan sick.

"Bruce is gonna want you in, too. He's probably done his research on you and knows all about those Ivy League offers."

Donovan gave him a hard look. "That doesn't mean shit to me."

"Just be careful, mate. Bruce doesn't like to be told no."

"That's his problem. Not mine."

Mick rejoined them several minutes later as the music faded and the dancers left the stage. He grinned at Donovan. His eyes were too bright, his pupils too dilated. It wasn't hard to tell that he'd sampled some kind of drug while talking with Bruce.

"You're in luck, cuz. Bruce likes you."

"Great," Donovan deadpanned, throwing the rest of his drink back.

"What's comin' up next is all yours, no charge. If you're in, that is."

He wasn't.

He wanted nothing to do with Bruce. He wanted nothing to do with the company he kept, the shifty crap he was up to and not a damn thing to do with this place. He had every intention of saying as much when the lights dimmed and a blue glow shimmered over the stage. A sultry middle eastern beat spilled through the room. On stage, something shifted in the shadows, the blue light catching on the ropes of diamonds draped over its form.

Donovan's breath caught as the creature moved out further into the light. Whatever it was, it was clearly female. Full lips complimented large, brown eyes framed by a waterfall of the deepest black. She wore nothing besides the diamonds that showcased her pale skin and curvaceous form.

"God damn," Mick breathed out. "What is she?"

She began to move with the music - not exactly dancing. More like hypnotizing her captive audience. Men sat transfixed, others quickly indicated their interest to Bruce who sat smirking, knowing he had something that everyone wanted.

Donovan included.

But it wasn't the temptation of her body that held him captive. It was her eyes. Her gaze was on him but she seemed to be staring through him. And her eyes…

He'd never seen such blind terror before.

He could feel the anticipation in the room swell, the hunger of men build feverishly. Any one of them could have her for a price. Any one of them could take her back, ignore that fear and make it so much worse.

Without thinking or even looking at his cousin, he said, "I'm in."

"Knew ya would be," the other man said, grinning. From the corner of his eye, Donovan saw him nod to Bruce.

He could act now, think later. There was no way he was in. But there was also no way he would leave the fate of this creature to men driven wild and careless by their own lust.

One of the lacky grizzlies snapped and the creature turned her head slowly to look at him. She seemed to gather herself, her shoulders tensing, her jaw clenched. And then she walked off stage and to the grizzlie. He pulled a pair of cuffs attached to a length of chain from a storage space just under the stage. She didn't fight him as he clamped them around her wrists. She just stood there, head hung in defeat.

"Follow Boris," Mick instructed, giving him a shove to motivate him.

Donovan moved, though he was hardly aware of what he was doing. The level of noise in the room now held an undercurrent of simmering rage. He ignored it all, following the flash of pale skin and diamonds instead, his mind working frantically to plot a way out of the mess he'd just gotten himself into.

Boris lead the way down a dark hallway. There were unsettling noises coming from many of the rooms, breathy female laughter, guttural grunts and moaning. Boris stopped at the fourth door on the right and pushed the door open. The room was nothing special. A curved couch, a small circular platform with a pole running up into the ceiling. Red glowed from underneath the platform, blending with the blue and making the room look cheap.

Boris pulled a large padlock from his pocket, securing the length of chain to a loop at the edge of the platform. With that done, he gave the chain a yank, pulling the creature off balance and causing her to stumble. With a mean chuckle, he dropped the chain and gave Donovan a salute. "She's yours for the hour, no questions asked. Enjoy."

And with that, he was gone, closing the door behind him.

The creature leaned heavily against the platform, her curtain of hair hiding her face. He could see her shoulders trembling, could tell from the lack of sound that she was holding her breath. He reached out a hand, intending only to get her attention with friendly hand on the shoulder and she flinched away from him with a strangled cry.

"I...ah…," he tried, pulling his hand back and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm Donovan."

She broke entirely then, dropping to her knees on the floor. Her breath left her on a low sob as she curled into herself, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them. He couldn't handle seeing her like that. Whatever she was...she deserved far more than this hell.

Cautiously, he knelt beside her. "I don't want to hurt you. I'm not going to hurt you. Promise."

She lifted her head and those dark, haunted eyes were on him, robbing him of his ability to think straight.

"Is this how you start your game?" she asked, her voice low and sultry.

"Game? No. I mean it. I won't hurt you."

"Why not?" She was suddenly defiant, lifting her head, pushing her shoulders back. Tears had left wet tracks down her face. "They all want to hurt me. I'm nothing but a toy to them. How are you any different?"

"Because I don't even want to be here. Before I saw you, I wanted nothin' more than to get the hell outta here."

Her eyes narrowed and clouded over with distrust. "Before you saw me?"

Donovan nodded. "Yeah. I...you looked scared out of your damn mind. I could hear all the guys around me going crazy for a shot at ya and...I couldn't let that happen. My cousin...he's in with Bruce-."

The mere mention of the name caused her body to seize violently. When Donovan reached out again, intending only to steady her, she didn't jerk away. "They want me to join up with their operation. I'm not interested in anything that they're tryin' to push but...but I couldn't leave you up there, couldn't risk you gettin' carried off by some guy who wouldn't give a shit about what happened to you as long as he got what he wanted in the deal. So I told them I was in."

"I don't understand. You don't even know who I am. You don't even know what I am," she added, her voice catching as a new wave of tears turned her eyes liquid brown.

Donovan lifted a hand, moving slowly in efforts not to startle her. He traced the curve of her jaw, cradled the side of her face in his palm. "I know you're scared and you want outta here even more than I do. That's all I need to know."

He dropped his hand and stood, looking around the room for any possible exit. There was a second level above the bar and the back rooms so ther was no chance of any rooftop access close enough for comfort. His best chance would be to get out of the room and see if there was some kind of back exit.

He started unbuttoning his blue dress shirt and the creature immediately backed away from him. "For you," he explained, pulling it off and handing it to her.

"Um..I can't-."

The chains. Right.

Donovan fished the small switchblade he kept from his pocket, extending it with a flick of his wrist. "For the lock."

Small, concise sentences seemed to work best, though he felt like a fool for using them. She wasn't a child. At least, he didn't think she was.

He sat down on the couch and leaned over the padlock. "So, what's your name?"

She watched him warily, then moved to the platform, sitting on the edge not far from him. "Farah."

Donovan smiled at her. "Pretty. Fits ya."

"Thank you."

"So ah…" He went back to work on the padlock, twisting it and fitting the tip of his blade into the keyhole. "What...are you, exactly?"

"A piece of somebody."

Donovan shot her a confused look.

"If you're looking for a technical term, it's 'human.' But, if you're looking for an explanation, its much more complicated than that."

"How's about I get you outta here, and you can fill me in later?"

The look she gave him nearly broke his heart, so full of fearful hope that he wanted to stop what he was doing and just hold her.

"I'm just going to bring you trouble. Bruce will be furious if he finds out I'm gone. He'll find you and he'll-."

This time, he did stop. He reached across the small distance separating them, taking her hand. "You let me worry about that."

She looked like she wanted to say something but had no idea how to say it. Finally, she settled on a tiny smile and an equally tiny, "thank you."

After giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, he went back to the lock. It took a good ten minutes to work it free, but it finally gave with a metallic pop.

"One down," he said with a grin and a wink. "Move over here and I'll take a look at those cuffs." She moved around the platform, sitting in front of him. He took her hands, cautiously turning them to see where they locked. The latch was towards the back of her wrists. She had to twist her hands in the cuffs and hold them up to her chest so that he could see what he was doing.

Being so close to her, overwhelmed by her intoxicating scent, it was difficult to focus. Every time his fingers brushed her smooth skin, his entire body reacted with a pleasant jolt. He glanced at his watch to check what time it was and saw he had little less than half an hour to get her out of cuffs and put a safe distance between them and Bruce.

The flood of mild panic fed his determination. He focused only on his task, releasing a breath he didn't realize he was holding until the cuffs suddenly snapped open, dropping between them.

"Make quick work of gettin' that shirt on. We're runnin' low on time."

As Farah pulled it on, Donovan went to the door and eased it open to see their "escort" standing in the hallway.

He moved quickly, putting the bear in a choke hold and pulling him into the room. If Farah was startled to see the guard, she didn't show it. The woman had a mean poker face. She reached for the chain and waited patiently, watching the bear thrash against Donovan's steady hold with a glint of satisfaction flashing in her eyes. Finally, the bear went lax, sagging forward.

Farah slipped the open padlock from the loop on the platform, handing it and the length of chain to Donovan who set to work securing them around the guards wrists and ankles. The chains just barely stretched to accommodate. Donovan had to jerk at them to get the extra inch he needed, holding his breath when the man grunted and stirred.

"You know any way outta here?" he asked.

"I'm...I'm not allowed to go anywhere, really. These rooms, the stage, Bruce's table, my...room. That's it."

The way she paused at the end made him think that her room was something else entirely, something that wasn't a room at all. He fought the need to know more, told himself there would be time later. "Well," he stood, glancing at the door, "Guess we can start there."

She stayed close beside him as he opened the door again and looked down the darkened hallway. He lead the way the direction opposite from where they came, hoping like hell it would provide them some kind of exit. He'd take a damn garbage chute if it got them out of there.

Laughter broke out behind them and Farah jumped, grabbing his arm.

"Stay in front of me," he instructed kindly, keeping an eye on the couple stumbling drunkenly away from them. At the end of the hallway, it veered off in two directions - one went back into the club or up a flight of stairs blocked off with a velvet rope. The other lead to what he assumed was a kitchen, judging from the noise and clatter of glass and silverware.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he caught sight of an exit door on the far back wall just as a lumbering hippo came through it, waving at the lingering smoke of his cigarette that attempted to follow him in.

A waiter came around the corner with a tray of food and Donovan jerked back, pulling Farah to his side and tucking her quickly under his arm. The waiter passed them without glancing their way at all.

"There's an exit towards the back. No idea how we're gonna get there without gettin' noticed. It'll have to be fast."

Her wide brown eyes were on him. He was asking a lot of her, he knew that - follow his instructions, trust him blindly without asking any questions. The mental struggle she was going through played over her face like a silent film.

He put his hands on her shoulders and leaned in close. "I know trustin' me ain't an easy thing. But I can't leave you here. You can run for the hills when we hit the door, if you want. You'd be better off stickin' with me, but I won't stop ya."

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth as her gaze darted to the empty hallway and back to him. "You wouldn't try to stop me at all?"

"No."

She watched him closely. He could feel the seconds ticking away, could hear every sound from the kitchen as if it were coming from right beside him. But there was something about her that was so much more important than any of that.

Not what she was - that was irrelevant.

Whatever it was though...he needed to know.

Her shoulders went back and determination lit a fire in her eyes. "I'll stay with you."

It was all he needed to hear. With a nod, he let go of her shoulders and took her hand in his, peering around the corner. There was a good chance that waiter would be making his way back. There was no way to determine the level of activity in the kitchen. No way to determine the layout. He'd have to take a leap of faith and hope the hell it paid off.

They moved quickly towards the kitchen and Donovan pulled her up close as they neared it. He wasn't stopping. Wasn't taking a chance to doubt himself. He wrapped his arm tight around her shoulders, hid her as best he could against his side and went for it.

Every second to the door was stretched out agony, filled with him silently telling himself not to look over to see if anyone had noticed them. To the door and out. That was all he needed to focus on.

Once they were out the door, Donovan quickly reached around to stop it from banging shut against the frame. His mind switched quickly over to what had to happen next. There was no way they were going to make it to any place safe on foot. They needed to put distance between themselves and Bruce. The club was out of the city limits so the opportunities to just disappear were scarce.

He scanned the parking lot for something nondescript and started moving towards the rows of parked cars.

"What now?" Farah asked.

Her hand was still in his. She'd made no effort to run from him.

"We find an unlocked car, hotwire it and get the hell out of here. Look for something older. Less chance of an alarm goin' off on us."

They checked car after car. It took six attempts before Donovan found a run down truck with a dented fender and an unlocked door.

"Here, get in," he said, holding the door open for Farah.

She jumped in, reaching up and pulling the sun visor down hoping for keys.

"Try the ashtray," Donovan nodded at it and reached under the wheel, searching for the panel that would give him access to the wiring. He slid his fingers under it, cursing softly when he found it reluctant to give. And then a set of keys was dangling in front of his face.

Farah was smiling down at him. She looked excited, hopeful and so beautiful that his mind went completely blank. "These might work better."

He snagged the keys and sat up, giving a triumphant shout when the truck started right up and then pulled out of the spot and started for the exit, moving slowly so as not to alert anyone. Just as he pulled out of the lot and onto the highway, Farah gasped, reaching for him and grabbing his arm in a vice like grip. "Donovan-."

The door to the club had swung open and men were spilling out. Among them was Bruce, his face contorted in rage.
'Stay low," he murmured, accelerating. They weren't looking this way. Mick was running for the truck, Barry not far behind. The rest of the men spread out through the parking lot. No one seemed to notice the truck gaining speed on the highway. If they did, Donovan didn't see it. They all disappeared in the rearview once he went around a curve, putting a forest of aspens between them. He punched the accelerator then, the truck easing forwarward, moving steadily towards 90.

He allowed himself to relax. Not fully, but enough so that his grip on the steering wheel didn't hurt his hands. "We're clear."

Farah sat up, glancing back through the window. She didn't move away from him. It was slightly surprising but he didn't question it. Having her near was comforting. Maybe it was the same for her.

"Where are we going?" she asked softly.

"Depends. How much trust you wanna put in me?"

"Five minutes, folks."

Donovan looked up at the guard calling out the remaining time on visitation, then to Johnny. His son looked stricken. Donovan could hardly blame him. Johnny knew very little of his mother. Donovan had hidden her away after her death just as he had hidden her away when she was alive.

"Why?" Johnny breathed. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I didn't know how to say anything." Donovan shook his head. Even out loud, the excuse sounded pathetic. "When your mom died...I didn't know how to talk about her. I...I loved her so much and after I lost her...I just couldn't. Just thinkin' about her hurt so damn much. And I was tryin' to figure out how to be a decent dad. Failin' most of the time. When you got older, nothin' I was doin' would have made your mom proud. Not talkin' about her was just easier. Easier than hurtin' all the damn time. Easier than facin' what I'd become. I know none of that matters and I'm sorry for that."

People were starting to get up, saying their goodbyes and filing out. The other convicts were turning to back to their cells. Johnny still sat there, staring at the tabletop between them and looking lost.

"Listen, son-," he reached across the table and took Johnny's hand, finally getting his attention. "The place me and your mom stayed...I ain't been there since I lost her. Everything's the same. None of it can make up for the fact that I kept ya in the dark this long. But it's all I've got."

"Times up, guys. Back to your cells."

Donovan stood, giving Johnny's hand a hard squeeze before letting it go. "Go there. Barry'll give ya the address." He sighed, wishing he could do something more to wipe away the pain and confusion in his son's gaze. "I'm sorry, Johnny."

He'd make it up to him somehow. The house was a start. He'd get the hell out of this place and spend as much time as he needed to making it up to Johnny. But right now, he had a guard breathing down his neck, nudging him to get him moving and he had no choice but to leave him sitting there with the secret he'd held onto for far too long.