CHAPTER TWO #2
The bike rolls to a stop inside the spacious garage, where everything seems meticulously organized. My eyes land on a leather motorcycle jacket hanging on the wall. Bold letters across the top read Ravens, and beneath it: Blue Haven.
I’m so caught up in staring at the jacket that I don’t even notice Declan standing next to me until he starts unbuckling my helmet.
“Sorry, I spaced out,” I say, suddenly self-conscious. “I’m just thrown off that you’re really a biker.” I slide off the motorcycle.
Declan places both helmets back into their spots without missing a beat. “Yup,” he replies simply.
“Can I look at it?” I ask, already moving toward the jacket.
“Sure,” he mutters, watching me with an amused expression.
The garage door closes behind us, sealing the cold outside.
I lift the jacket from its hook and run my fingers over the patches.
The front is just as intriguing as the back.
The first patch on the left says Vice President, with Ravens beneath it.
On the right, the top patch reads Portland, and underneath that: Brutal.
“Does ‘brutal’ mean something?” I ask, turning to him with a curious smile.
“Things and people who behave badly get dealt with brutally,” he says, his tone low and firm.
My thighs clench together involuntarily. Damn. That was the sexiest thing I’d ever heard.
“Come on. Let’s get you warmed up,” he says, snapping me out of my bad girl thoughts.
I follow him into the house.
“What part of the house is yours?” I ask, glancing around the sleek kitchen, all clean lines and soft lighting.
Declan looks over his shoulder at me, his brows raised.
“This kitchen is stunning. It’s like something out of a magazine,” I gush.
“Thanks,” he replies, stopping in the expansive living room.
“Should I whisper? I don’t want to wake your parents,” I tease, the size of this place making it feel like someone must share it with him.
He shakes his head, smirking. “My parents don’t live here.”
“Oh, I thought this huge house was your parents,” I say, surprised.
“No, this is my home, Meridea,” he clarifies.
“Is it hard to believe that a thirty-year-old man can own his own home?” he asks with a small smile.
I spin around, taking in the grandeur of the house. “This is a mansion, Declan.”
“It’s just a big house,” he counters playfully.
I raise my hands in mock surrender and say, “Fine, it’s a big house.”
“I’ll give you a quick tour so you can find your way around anytime,” he offers generously.
Anytime of day? He’s giving me a place to lay my head for the night. Maybe he’s tired and misspoke.
The house is a dream. The tour ends in a guest room.
“As you know, my room is just down the hall,” Declan points out.
He motions to the left before adding, “I’ll start a fire for you. Feel free to come downstairs and relax by it if you want.”
With that, he heads towards the grand staircase.
I’m so confused right now. How does he afford all of this?
He’s a bartender—or maybe he owns the bar—but even then, no bar I’ve ever seen could produce enough profit to afford this kind of mansion.
My mind drifts to the jacket in the garage.
He’s in a motorcycle club. Does that mean he’s involved in… illegal activities?
My eyes slam shut as I push the door shut.
Then they pop open. No, I won’t let that nightmare take precedence right now.
I need to be alert. I’m in a strange man’s home.
Even though I don’t get the vibe that he expects anything from me.
I open the closet to place my backpack on the floor and my mouth drops open.
Inside, a row of neatly hung clothes greets me, along with an array of boots and stylish shoes perfectly arranged on the floor.
I slip my jacket off and hang it on a hanger. My dusty white sneakers come off next, and I set them down next to my backpack.
What was his sister thinking, buying all of this? A whole wardrobe? I’ll only wear two or three outfits at most. The rest she can return to the store and get a refund.
My fingers slip over the soft fabrics. The clothes are nicer than anything I’ve worn in years.
My family had an abundance of money until my dad got caught up with other women and drugs.
He overdosed, or so I’m told, but I think someone killed him.
After that, my mom and I were left with nothing.
I helped pay the bills until I went off to college, and then my mom started dating a man with a good blue-collar job.
She didn’t need my help anymore, so I focused on paying for college instead.
Unfortunately, that meant taking out student loans.
I met Glenn a year ago when I was juggling two jobs, determined to pay off my student loans as quickly as possible.
My plan was simple: eliminate the debt early so I could live comfortably for the rest of my life.
Glenn seemed perfect—he took me out whenever I could squeeze in a free moment, showing me a world far removed from my exhausting routine.
As things got serious, he asked me to move in with him. He insisted I didn’t need to pay for anything—just focus on clearing my loans. With only one job to worry about, I suddenly had more time to spend with him, and for a while, everything seemed perfect.
A few months ago, though, Glenn’s cousin Monty showed up, saying he needed a place to crash. I wasn’t comfortable with the idea. There was something off about Monty, the way his eyes lingered on me for too long whenever he was around. But Glenn reassured me it would be temporary.
Honestly, it felt like once he moved in, he wouldn’t leave. Several times he came on to me. I know I should’ve told Glenn, but I never got a chance, too. Everything happened so fast.
It turns out that my boyfriend was involved in some business with his cousin and their three friends - Ralph, Setty, and Josh. One night, I woke up to an argument between the guys in Glenn’s game room, which he also used as an office.
I had crept down the hallway and stopped just outside the room. Voices spilled through the slightly ajar door, tense and angry. Glenn was laying into Monty, his voice low but furious. On the monitor, a video played—a woman bound and gagged in a chair. My stomach churned.
“Monty, I’m not splitting the money we make off these auctions with anyone outside the five of us,” Glenn growled.
The words hit me like a punch to the gut. Auctions? My eyes darted to the screen again. It wasn’t just a video. It was a live feed—a dark web stream where they were auctioning women off to sex trafficking rings.
“After the deal next month, we’ll be golden,” Glenn added, his tone calm now.
Ralph, Setty, and Josh seemed satisfied with the plan, nodding in agreement. But Monty wasn’t. He muttered something under his breath, his body tense.
I backed away as quietly as I could, my heart racing and bile rising in my throat. Back in the bedroom, I crawled under the covers, my mind racing. I couldn’t let on that I knew. I needed to act normal, to play along until I could figure out how to escape without raising suspicion.
Two days crawled by. I waited for my chance—until they were all out.
When the house was silent, I crept back into the office.
My hands trembled as I grabbed a flash drive sticking out of the laptop.
A date was scribbled on it, likely tied to the recorded auction.
I shoved it into my backpack and bolted.
The first thing I did was ditch my cell phone. I turned it off and tossed it into the yard of a house with a barking dog a block away from my home in the city of Atlanta.
I had no idea how close they might be to catching me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.
While on the bus to New York, I mourned my relationship with Glenn. I trusted him. Guess I don’t have good instincts when it comes to men.
He had that “bad boy” edge and ran a successful mechanic shop. Glenn never went to college but was smart and skilled with computers - perhaps too skilled, since he was involved in selling and likely smuggling people.
After reaching New York, I pored over maps of small towns and Blue Haven caught my eye.
Coming back to the present moment, I walk into the bathroom and turn on the tub faucet. I test the water temperature with my hand until it’s just right for a bath.
I strip off my clothing, carefully fold them, and set them in a neat pile on the counter made of smooth, slate gray marble.
A week on the run and this is my first real bath. Truck stop sinks and hurried scrubs couldn’t compare to this—a hot soak that might finally wash away a fraction of the hell I’d gone through.
As I lower myself into the bath, the steam envelops me.
I pour some shower gel onto a washcloth and gently scrub my arms. I relax and look up at the ceiling, savoring this moment of peace and freedom.
My thoughts drift to Declan for a brief moment.
Steve at the bar had warned me that he doesn’t do relationships.
The tension in my shoulders eases - finally there is one man who doesn’t want me.
And frankly, I don’t want him either. In another life where we both cared about protecting innocent people, maybe we could have been together - two individuals united in their desire to stop evil people from hurting others.
I can almost see his big green eyes staring into mine as he stands tall and strong, giving me orders while also making me feel safe and secure. “Just one night of safety,” I say out loud to myself.