Sacrificial Sins

By Mira West

This compelling yet controversial romantic suspense, will have you rethinking the boundaries of your principals.

Addiena Cadogan, an immigrant and only child of elderly parents, relents to stripping in order to provide for them and pay for college. Everything is going smoothly until her life intertwines with twin brothers.

She first meets Derek Taft, the White House Press Secretary, at the gentlemen’s club where she works. She later meets Father James Taft, the residing priest of an orphanage, when searching for an abandoned little girl.

From there, everything spirals into mass confusion. Father James falls from the grace of the church and believes God sent Addiena to him. Derek falls in love with her for other gratifying reasons. Although the woman he met had bleached blonde hair and went by the name of Ruby.

Not until the time is right does Addiena disclose her job to them. She never suspected someone very close to her also had to make a sacrificial choice.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Aug 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483450438

Book preview

unconditionally.

CHAPTER 1

E VERY NIGHT WAS a menagerie as animals were freed from their cages and wandered in aimlessly. On occasion, a VIP strolled through for a change of scenery. But tonight was like the rise of a full harvest moon, rousing an urge to howl and a curiosity for the unknown.

It was Amateur Night, the last Friday of the month, and payday for the regular nine-to-five's. Not a wise spend, but they got their money's worth. Seats were few, most mingled with one rule to follow. You could look but not touch, or someone would see you out the door.

Men from eighteen to eighty lined the sidewalk and along the walls for a peek at a girl in rare form. Paper Dolls held the reputation for having the best.

Peering in the mirror, Ruby applied a fresh coat of red lipstick, fluffed her blonde hair, and then went to find the four men that saluted her with their beers. If she didn't, another dancer would.

The room was bulging from every seam, opening and dark corner, but she spotted them right away huddled and waving wildly, as though she was rounding third base for a home run.

Wearing a black leather miniskirt, boots up to her thighs and a sheer white top, she weaved through the tables with a stride that could melt the floor. That always set the hook and proven to empty pockets with a wink of an eye.

Hello boys, she cooed, running her fingers through the hair of the man with the biggest smile. How's everyone doing tonight?

We're stupendous! What's your name, beautiful? the smiling man asked and then reached to fondle her enticing works of art.

I'm Ruby. She caught his hand before he stepped over the line. Don't you know that's a no-no? See, I can touch you---but you . . . she pointed to his nose and lightly touched it, have to pretend your hands are tied to a big brass bed. Do you think you can do that? She used all the lines and gestures the seasoned strippers taught her, wringing out each one several times a night.

I'm doing it right now, the man said and wagged his tongue from a grin as wide as his face. Then he crossed his wrists and held them in the air. I have some rope in the car. You want me to go get it? he joked and squirmed.

Then you'll lose your turn, and that would be a big mistake, am I right? She spoke with a soft and alluring voice, emphasizing each word with her glistening red lips.

Yes . . . big . . . mistake, he muttered as she swept her long blonde hair back and forth across his chest, entrancing him like the motion of a gentle wave. Every movement was choreographed as if it paid for her salvation. Ruby learned the better the show, the more money she made, and the closer she was to achieving her goal.

The other men in the group were positioned like mannequins, engrossed as their friend got the special treatment---except one. He was wearing a ball cap and sunglasses and appeared bored, observing with arms folded as if this was a daily occurrence. Then he patted his lap and motioned with a finger. Come sit your sweet cheeks right here. No emotion, no thrill, not even a hint of blood rushed with his request.

Ruby stepped toward the man and brushed a finger over the brim of his cap and down his cheek, curiously studying him. Most patrons who came to Paper Dolls were within blue-collar standards, and the slightest attention given was overly appreciated. However, there were always the exceptions.

She whispered in his ear, grazing his face with her subtly covered breasts. I'm not taking orders from someone I can't see. Before he protested, she removed his hat and slipped off his glasses, placing them on the table.

The starchy chap had a face on the edge of too pretty to be manly. His chiseled, square jaw was meticulously shaven and baby smooth---deep-set, gray eyes were shadowed by thick, groomed brows. His teeth were perfect and pearly white. Not one shiny black hair was out of place, and he reeked of sweet cologne.

Ruby had seen his type before. Their appearance often matched their personality. If they couldn't relax and have fun, they usually placed themselves above the regular, vulnerable human being. It was obvious by his mannerisms that was him, her favorite type.

To her, he was nothing but a toasted marshmallow, boasting his irresistible bronzed shell, but inside, soft and gooey, melt in your mouth kind of guy. They never lasted long, and before the dance was over their eyes were rolled back to a dark place in their head.

As Ruby complied to the man's request, he grabbed her attention with a question. Tell me. How did someone like you end up in a place like this? he asked, waving his pale manicured fingers through the air. Just dumb luck?

She stared at him speechless as the table cooled to his chill. The question had an answer, but hers was worth a lot more than his twenty-dollar bill could buy.

Hey don't ruin the party, one of the men whined.

The party has just begun. Watch and learn, you morons.

"Why don't I show you how it's done," Ruby said. There was money to chip from this jagged stone, and she was going to do it.

Like a cat, she slinked onto his lap and straddled his legs. His mouth reached for her nipples, visible under her shirt, and his hot breath misted the fabric. But she reminded him who was boss and pushed him back against the chair.

As he succumbed to the rules of the ritual, she began slow and paced. Hips, buttocks and thighs moved in a rhythm that taunted each observer to remain a gentleman. With a delicate touch, she glided his cheeks down her cleavage, letting him breathe in the sweet smell of seduction. Then she arched back, leaving him wanting for more.

The touch of her body, the mystique of her dark-chocolate eyes, and the glaze over her full ripe lips were a mere distraction as every dollar was bilked from his healthy wallet. Not one eye flutter, tongue swirl or stimulating line was left out.

And while he was kept deliriously intoxicated, she was off to a place of serenity. At the fishing pond, she was a faceless shadow dancing and twirling for the creatures of the night.

The man smiled as he gazed at her mouth. You have two of the most perfectly formed ruby-red lips. Don't you think, guys?

I think your turn is up---is what I think, one huffed.

Ruby held back what she was thinking. That's how I got my name, she said, kissing the air. As she mechanically went through her routine, her eyes gravitated to an emblem embroidered on the man's shirt. It was the White House, and immediately she scanned the shirts of the other three men. They, too, had the same emblem on their shirt.

That was all it took. Anxiety rippled and all functioning body parts retaliated. She tried to move, but her body had turned into wood and was nailed to the floor.

These men represented the place that breathed life into her dream---life which meant so much to her. There was no way she could finish the dance. Smile, movement, everything, came to an abrupt halt.

Without further embarrassment, she slid off the man's lap. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I-I have to go, she said, shaking her head.

Wait a minute! The guy with the big smile reached into his pocket.

Ruby waved. No, that's okay. Taking their money didn't seem right. It was as if she owed them, living in their country, the place she now called home.

Then here, take my card. He pulled out a business card from his wallet. If you ever want a tour of the White House, call my number and I'll set you up. He placed the card in her hand and wrapped her fingers over it.

The arrogant man with the dazzling teeth leaned over the table toward his friend. Richard, you're barking up the wrong tree. Does she look like someone who wants to see the fucking White House?

Ruby gasped as though shot in the chest by a sniper. His remark went straight to her heart, and her fist clenched the card. That small piece of paper meant more to her than any amount of money.

He never sat at the kitchen table and listened to her family discuss dreams, goals and possibilities. Nor did he know she felt privileged to call America her home. And he especially didn't know the United States made it possible for her to become a teacher. That man knew nothing about her!

As she unhinged her mouth, ready to defend who she was and how she ended up in a place like that, the memory of that incredible journey soothed her rage and diminished her despair.

CHAPTER 2

Morning, spring of 1981

S TANDING IN THE front yard of her home, Addiena Cadogan took one last unforgettable gaze at the place she was born---the place uncharted youth evolved into a woman. It was the place she heard stories as long and wide as the Severn River and deeper than the roots of the family tree---stories buried in the foothills of Talgarth, Wales that defined the life trappings of the Cadogan kin and flowed like blood through her veins.

While gazing into the windows of her past, she pictured herself nestled between the slopes of her mother's breasts, rocking and listening to these stories. The one about her instilled eternal gratitude to her parents---an indebtedness sewn into her fiber for the risk they took to give her life, which someday she would repay.

As the story was told, she was an unexpected miracle with the same chance of survival as a plump goose on Christmas day. Her parents, Elis and Nesta, dreamed of having six precious angels, but would settle for three.

After several years of trying and praying, their dream turned listless and barren. Neither understood why, nor passed blame, and obediently surrendered to the belief that God had a reason.

But as life carried on in its precarious way, their abandoned dream resurfaced. Only now, Nesta was cresting the age of forty-seven and warned that death was a threat if she had the baby.

Sleepless, arduous nights went by before deciding to test their faith and fight for their only chance to become parents. Eight months later, they heard joyful wailing and chose the name Addiena, meaning beautiful.

The ending of her story, as her mother would say: "God took his everlasting sweet time perfecting the details of his glorious creation."

Though seeing America had always been Addiena's dream, the reason they were going was unimaginable. Her Uncle Erland was deathly sick and beckoned for their help. That alone seemed impossible, hearing countless stories commemorating his adventurous and daring life. He was legendary, her hero and immortal, she thought.

Details were not given of his illness, but it was bad enough to convince her father to move to a place he swore she'd never go. For that, details were given in a voice that was hard to forget. You've reached the age where a close eye is not close enough, and my only daughter will not be exposed to the immoral brainwashing of America! And yet, they were on their way to the forbidden land.

The captain of the plane made his announcement, Ladies and gentlemen we are making our final descent into Cleveland, Ohio. We should be touching down in about twenty minutes. Looks like rain is in the forecast, but right now it's a pleasant sixty-two degrees. Thank you for flying with Sky Global airlines, and we hope to see you again.

It seemed the flight from Wales to the United States took longer than for Addiena to reach the age of twenty-one, but the fact she was actually there was worth every restless minute.

Grabbing their carry-ons, she and her parents exited the plane and then followed the passengers to find the rest of their luggage.

Elis latched onto both suitcases, and Nesta picked up a box of mementos, she couldn't leave without. Together, they lugged their belongings out to ground transportation.

There's a taxi! Addiena yelped and waved excitedly to it. In a flash, the yellow and black car darted from the curb and screeched to a stop in front of them.

A wiry, young man wearing a T-shirt and jeans got out to help. How's it goin'? he asked, locking on Addiena's stumbling beauty.

Standing nearly six feet tall with a body sculpt like a goddess, Addiena was beyond comparison. Her long thick hair cascaded over her shoulders and down her back in shades of rich brunette. Doe-like mahogany eyes and wide, plump lips adorned a starlet face with skin like fresh cream.

It's going fantastic! she answered almost out of breath, this is our first time in the United States. We're here to see my uncle. Though it wasn't a reason to celebrate, her heart pounded as if it was.

That's awesome. So it's a pleasure trip, I take it? he asked, opening the trunk.

Uh . . . I hope so, she replied, unsure of the answer.

All right, let's get you on your way. He gripped the handle of one suitcase and let out a sputtering of grunts. Wow, this is heavy.

Here, let me give ya a hand, Elis said, watching him struggled with the weight. He grabbed the bag, as if a bale of cotton, and then latched onto the other. With one huff, he had them both in the trunk with the rest of their things.

At seventy-two he was labeled old but hid it well. He stood sturdy and erect at six feet tall. His eyes were light blue, hair gray, but covered most of his head, and his mind was as sharp as his principles.

The young man chuckled as he closed the trunk. What do have in there, everything you own?

Addiena opened her mouth, but her father held her back. As a matter of fact we do. We just flew in from Wales to stay with my brother. So if you wouldn't mind, could you take us to him?

The man shrugged. Yeah, sure. Where does he live?

At the Wild Rose Ranch in Amherst, Addiena said, pulling out an old postcard from her purse and reading him the address.

The young man tipped his head and everyone got inside the cab. He looked back. It's about forty-five minutes away. Just so you know, it might be expensive.

That's okay, I have it, Addiena said. She knew her parents didn't have any money, after scraping together every cent they had to get them there, and she had saved since her eighteenth birthday praying for this day to come.

As the driver took off, Elis and Nesta settled back for the long ride, hand-in-hand and eyes slowly closing. Addiena, on the other hand, was wide eyed recounting the story of Erland's expedition to America. She knew every word by heart, and of all the stories told it was her favorite.

At the courageous age of twenty-one, Erland rooted a powerful conviction to leave Wales and move to the United States. One evening, when the sky was ablaze with the moon and stars, he opened a map and began looking for a starting point. There were so many places he'd read about and longed to see. Washington D.C. was one of them. He also thought about Maine and working his way down the states. Night after night, he searched until a city caught his eye. It was the city of Amherst, which coincidentally was his best friend's last name. He couldn't think of a better place to begin his journey than Amherst, Ohio.

So with a map in his pocket and a pack on his back, Erland flew to New York and then boarded the Milwaukee Railway. He traveled as far as his money would stretch, arriving in Cleveland, Ohio. From there, he hitchhiked west toward Amherst. By dusk, the soles of his shoes had touched the soles of his feet, but he knew his search was over. He was standing at the entrance of the Wild Rose Ranch and nothing sounded more fitting.

With bloody feet and a ten-gallon thirst, Erland went looking for work and a place to rest his head. To John and Patricia Jordan, it was answered prayer. They hired Erland to manage their farm until they found their own eternal resting place. To his surprise, they willed him their sixty-acre ranch. And from that day forward, Erland proudly declared the United States his home.

Looks like this is the place, the taxi driver said and stopped at the entrance of the gravel road.

Addiena looked up at the sign and murmured, Wild Rose Ranch. It didn't seem real. She was finally going to meet her Uncle Erland. A photo of him was buried deep in her mind. He was standing on a tree stump, holding up a fish. He was ruggedly handsome with a wide smile, bushy mustache, wavy brown hair, and eyes that glistened like black diamonds. He was wearing a red plaid shirt and had a lumberjack build. But many decades had passed since then.

Mom, Dad, wake up, we're here. They opened their eyes and slowly sat up. Isn't it beautiful? It reminds me of Talgarth, just like Erland described, Addiena said as the taxicab headed toward the house.

On both sides of the road, skyscraping poplars followed a fence made of tree limbs and barbed wire, surrounding verdant pastures of alfalfa and yellow daisies. In the distance, farms dotted the horizon with fields of corn as cows and sheep grazed in spring meadows.

It was a palette of colors splashed across the acreage like a French impressionist painting---all framed by a forest of hardwoods.

CHAPTER 3

T HE TAXI SPED off, kicking up rocks and dust, leaving Addiena and her parents at the steps of a rickety, two-story farmhouse. Only remnants of yesteryears portrayed its true charm. Strips of white paint clung to musty-gray weathered wood. The porch was warped and missing boards here and there. Weeds had overgrown the flowerbeds, and the grass was knee-high. The entire place looked as if no one had lived there for years. They prayed they were not too late.

Climbing the stairs, they huddled at the door as Addiena gave two raps. Her chest pumped with a blend of thrill and fear waiting for Erland to answer. After a minute, she knocked again---this time louder, supposing his hearing was failing too. But still no Erland.

Taking a nervous breath, Elis twisted the handle and found it unlocked. He turned to Nesta and Addiena. You wait here . . . just in case. His pulse sped up as he slowly opened the door.

Inside, the house looked the same as the outside, neglected and abandoned, and reeked of something rancid. He crept into the kitchen and saw days of dirty dishes piled in both sides of the sink. Erland . . . you here? he called out, wandering through the brimming squalor as tears of guilt clouded his eyes for not coming sooner.

Finding his way to the back of the house, he followed a mentholated odor to the bedroom. It, too, was unkempt and still no sign of Erland. He called out again, inching his way toward the bathroom, and then stopped dead and gripped his heart.

With tears streaming down his cheeks, he raised the window and hollered, Erland, come over here and give your brother a hug! The words barely had enough breath to spew as he stuck his arms out the window.

Erland was sitting on the top rail of his fence, gazing out at the open pastures. He turned almost falling off in disbelief. Well I'll be . . . you came, he uttered.

Climbing down, he skipped with a limp to greet his brother, and they held onto each other like two contending wrestlers. I should've told you I was sick long time ago, if that's what it took to get you here.

Elis pulled away, crying and laughing at the same time. You know me, I'm just a stubborn old mule. They chuckled and wiped their eyes. Then Elis patted Erland on the shoulder. Wait here while I go get Nesta and Addiena. They're waiting on the porch. Moving swiftly through the house, retracing his steps, he found them clutching each other dreading the announcement.

Tell me he's all right, Addiena heaved out, holding her hand to her mouth.

Elis smiled and motioned with his hand. Follow me. He stepped off the porch and hurried to the back of the house.

Nesta and Addiena grasped hands and followed until Erland came into view. Then Addiena let go of her mother's hand and stood in astonishment, mouth open and gazing in awe.

Time had caught up to the man in the photo. His face was wrinkled and tanned and hair white as pristine snow. The plaid shirt, which boasted his muscles, now covered a body frail and hunched. She noticed something that hadn't changed. His eyes still had the same spirited glint of adventure.

Erland also stood in amazement as their eyes met for the first time. Like a timid cat, he stepped closer for a better look. Can this be the beautiful Addiena? he asked with a voice of strength and energy, as if nothing was wrong with him.

She nodded, opening her arms wide and hurried to him. Yes, it's me---and this is you! She wrapped her arms around his vertical frame and held him tightly. His arms slowly stretched around her and tightened with the same intensity. It was a moment they both had dreamt of and longed for many years.

Looking over Addiena's shoulder, Erland gazed at Nesta. Her soft brown eyes fluttered and a warm smile quivered. He slid his arms from Addiena as Nesta moved in for a welcomed embrace. You're still as pretty as you ever was. I guess father-time looked the other way and passed you right by, he murmured.

Nesta pulled back and smiled. And you, too, are a sight for sore eyes. We were so afraid . . . She hesitated and brushed a trickling tear from her cheek. We're just happy to see you, Erland. It was a long awaited, heartwarming reunion for the Cadogan's as they hugged one another in joyful elation.

Entering the disheveled home, Erland quickly began stacking newspapers and placed them on a cluttered coffee table. Don't mind the mess. Can't get in the mood to clean these days. He shook out a knitted afghan, folded it, and laid it over the arm of the couch. Then he gestured with a hand. Here, sit. Take a load off. Elis sat down while his brother continued to tidy the room.

Nesta could see his frustration and touched his shoulder. Erland, we're here now, you just relax. Addiena and I will have this place sparkling in no time. She looked around. And if you point me in the direction of the kitchen, I'll see what I can put together for us to eat.

Follow me. He waved and started walking. I have a surprise for Elis that I've been saving for a day just like today. He glanced back at him with a devilish grin. You're not gonna believe your eyes when you see what I have. He limped off chuckling to himself with Addiena at his heels. No way was she letting him out of her sight, not for one second, fascinated by his every move and every word.

Nesta stopped at the doorway of the kitchen and sighed at the sight. It was in need of repair as well as a good scouring. It's definitely missing a woman's touch, she said, gazing at the mess.

Erland let out a snort. Probably why I haven't touched it. Then he placed a finger on his chin and scanned the room. Hmm . . . what was I coming in here for?

Addiena reminded him. You said you've been saving something for a day just like today.

Oh, yes, thank you. Sometimes I need a little jump start, if you know what I mean? They chuckled together as their bond began to develop.

Erland walked over to a handmade oak hutch and untied a leather string that tethered the brass handles together. Reaching up to the top shelf, he retrieved a dusty, brown bottle and a shot glass. Then he pointed at Addiena. Now, you're too young for this and best you never start. But I'm hoping your dad will join me.

Her eyes bugged. Oh, man, this I gotta see! She had never seen Elis take a sip of alcohol in her life and remembered vividly their father-daughter talk. He claimed alcohol and sex were in the same category. Both were temptations with risky consequences. She followed Erland to witness a man bending steel with his two bare hands.

Erland sat down on the couch next to Elis. Today calls for celebration. He set the bottle and shot glass on the coffee table in front of him. What do you think of that? he asked, pointing.

Elis gazed at it curiously then picked up the longneck bottle. Is this what I think it is? He took a sniff of the muddy, brown syrup.

Yep, Erland said with a grin stretched across his face.

Well what do ya know, face-to-face with the devil himself, Dylan's mash. He tilted the bottle sideways, reminiscing the past and what happened that unforgettable night. This is the culprit that made me wreck dad's truck. He set the bottle down and shook his head. Naw, I don't think I will . . . this is some powerful stuff.

Addiena gasped. You drank, Dad?

He held up two fingers. Just twice. The first time was on my eighteenth birthday, and Dylan wanted to celebrate. His eyes wandered off. I'll never forget that day. I couldn't sit for a week after the beatin' Dad gave me. He rubbed his backside as if feeling the sting of the hickory switch.

And the second time, she asked eagerly.

Elis looked down. That was after Dad's funeral. Would've beat me then, too, if he could of.

Erland took the bottle and shot-glass from the table. Come on---for old time's sake, he pleaded.

Elis knew his brother would eventually get his way, no matter how long it took. He looked at Nesta for her approval and then at Addiena. One drink, he asked and shrugged.

Go on, Dad. I don't mind, really I don't, Addiena said, intrigued that a man of his staunch beliefs could be tempted to do something he vowed not to do.

It's a day to celebrate, dear, go ahead, Nesta said with an earnest smile and nod.

Erland chuckled. Okay, you got the queen's blessing. No backing out now. He poured the ancient potato mash to the rim of the glass and handed it to Elis. Here you go. Everyone watched as he brought the glass to his lips. Addiena's mouth opened, anticipating the thrill of seeing history being made.

Elis stopped in mid-motion before gulping it down. First, I need to say a few words. He closed his eyes with a finger to his brow. Let's see, how did it go? Then his eyes popped open. Oh yeah! It may be smelly and soon will be in my belly, and when it comes up, a bowl full of jelly.

Erland erupted into laughter as Elis gulped down the maple colored mixture. How in the world did you remember that? he asked, wheezing while trying to catch his breath.

I sang it at least twenty times that night! Elis winced, struggling to keep it down. It's your turn. He filled the glass and handed it to Erland.

Don't mind if I do. He held the glass out at the three entranced faces. I have to say, it's mighty good to have you here with me. They smiled at him. Now, I have a toast of my own. One I've never used and probably never will again. His glossy eyes closed. I've done more than most and less than some, with you all here I'm a lucky son-of-a-gun. He tossed down the mash, slammed the glass on the table and howled.

Addiena woke hungry to the smell of coffee and bacon snaking through her bedroom. She cracked an eye and peered at the regulator clock on the wall. Five-thirty, she groaned and clutched the pillow over her head, yet the savory aroma was insistent. Whisking the covers off, she got up and followed it to the kitchen.

Her sleepy eyes snapped open. The dark, dreary kitchen sparkled like new. The yellow gingham curtains were opened, dishes were washed and put away, and a red checked tablecloth was spread over the