Chapter 3 Haven
Haven
My poor heart has taken a beating ever since this afternoon. Instead of finding any relief, I’ve met a man who wants to kill me in his own way.
Not with a weapon, but with his hands. Sure, he had his fingers wrapped around my throat for a short moment there, but nothing comes close to how his hand feels against my leg. Not just my thigh, but the inner patch that tingles from a mindless stroke of his thumb.
He’s carrying me like I weigh as little as a sack of potatoes. I’m a big girl; people don’t casually pick me up, especially not like this.
If he doesn’t do the job, I think I’ll want to die after this. My poor heart can’t take much more.
Taking me to a room that smells of leather and pine, I’m dropped onto a bed. With a little bounce, I’m left staring up at the same wicked grin on a handsome face.
This is just another bad guy, Haven. He’s no different from the men who have your brother.
I have to press my knees together when my body doesn’t want to agree with common sense.
“Do I need to tie you to something, or are you going to be a good girl and stay here while I figure things out?” He tilts his head, his eyes drinking me in. His smile is terrifying, all teeth, but his eyes show the first real emotion I’ve seen tonight. Pure delight.
Good girl. He’s enjoying making me stir, that’s all.
“I can’t leave here empty-handed. If I don’t get her, I can only rely on your help.” Admitting the truth, I don’t miss the satisfied hum that leaves his lips. “Is that what you want to help me? I won’t cause trouble.”
Clicking his tongue, he shakes his head. “No, that would be too simple. I’m still thinking about it. Needs to be something good enough to risk my life for. Those men your brother is with? They’re deadly.”
While I know that to be true, there’s not a lick of fear behind his words. Maybe he doesn’t know them as much as he thinks he does. Or he’s not scared of dying.
Hugging my knees to my chest, I can’t fight the shiver that shoots through me at the memory of Blaze. The scarred knuckles. The bloodied blade between his fingers. Paulie’s blood. My stomach clenches up.
Ripper moves, and I don’t realize he’s reaching for me until his fingers are already tracing my jaw, tilting it up so I’m forced to look into the storm that makes up his eyes. This man is dangerous. I can feel it deep in my bones.
“Did they do anything to you?” His words are soft, making my toes curl in my sneakers. When I try to jerk my eyes away so he can’t see into my soul with that intensity of his, he doesn’t allow it. “Haven.”
If this guy is the interrogating type, I bet he’s a master at getting all the answers he wants.
“They just made it clear that Paulie isn’t safe. Blaze is the impatient type.” Muttering the words, I try not to remember the sight of my brother’s face bruised and swollen, his throat sliced deep enough to bleed, but not to kill. A warning to be taken seriously.
When my eyes water instinctively, his sigh washes over me.
“No more tears. They don’t suit you.” He wipes away the water before it falls, his brows furrowing as if he genuinely doesn’t like the tears. “Someone might think I’m torturing you. I can’t help if they try to take you away.”
From the way his smile disappears, he dislikes the idea as much as I do.
Trying not to lean into his touch, I force my body back so I can wipe my face instead. Sniffing, I nod. “I’ll try. No more tears.”
I need to be strong. Stuck in a dangerous world, I’m going to let it swallow me up if I stay like this.
His smile slides back into place, but it’s not the same as the one before, and he’s now trusting enough to give me his back.
“We’re not like those bastards. Sure, your situation is a little different, but we don’t harm those who don’t deserve it.
Once we get a little trust going, maybe I’ll show you around? ”
He’s doing it again, using his voice to coax me into believing every word he has to say.
Unfortunately, I can’t trust anyone. Especially someone who isn’t sure if they want me to help or not, without some wicked ultimatum.
“Thank you, Ripper.” Keeping my voice from wobbling, I don’t miss the look in his eye when he throws a glance over his shoulder at me. He’s not smiling, and something is swimming in his gaze, something I don’t recognize. He doesn’t linger, slipping out of the room with the soft click of the door.
Considering that he could be on the other side, waiting to see if I try to leave, I don’t leave the bed immediately. Not until a few minutes pass. Then, once my heart has calmed, I’m on my feet.
Hoping a dangerous place like this will have some kind of weapon to protect myself with, I start snooping in hopes of finding a knife. Maybe a gun. I’ve never shot one before. Could I pull the trigger on a stranger under the right conditions? I’ll have to.
There’s a duffel bag on the floor, already unzipped.
Digging through it, I don’t find anything dangerous.
Just some clothes and condoms. Gross. All useless.
There are dirty clothes, too, but I doubt anything is beneath them.
By the time I’m lifting the mattress to see if anything is hidden, I’m panting and running out of patience.
No gun. No knife. No, anything. I guess the owner of the room could be carrying their weapons directly on them, but spares can’t hurt.
Collapsing back on the bed, I try to catch my breath.
What if Ripper comes back and tells me that they can’t help me? What then? They’ll need to get rid of me. I know too much in their eyes.
They won’t listen if I tell them that I know literally nothing. I don’t know where Eliza is, or if she is even here.
I can’t rely on these guys. Ripper’s right. We have no trust. If I can’t find a weapon to protect myself, that only leaves one option. I need to escape.
The door is right there, within my reach. Slipping out would be too easy, too dangerous. By now, Ripper could’ve told everyone about me, telling them to ensure I’m kept here like a captive.
Turning my head, I stare at the window separating me from the outside world. There are no bars, as this isn’t supposed to be a prison. I don’t know why he brought me here of all places, but I’m glad he did.
Getting up, I shove the curtains open and lift the blinds. Against the glass, my reflection meets me. My cheeks are flushed, my eyes puffy. I look weak.
No wonder he left me alone. He probably thinks I’m too scared to risk running. Well, I’m trapped in a corner, and I don’t do too well in this sort of situation.
Shoving the window open, it’s heavy and catches on wood. I grunt, raise it, and a gust of wind tickles my cheeks. Expecting fresh air, I inhale, but it’s pine. I struggle with the screen and grunt again, finally opening it enough by hitting it with my hand.
Freedom is so close, I can taste it. The drop in non-existent, thank goodness. My fear of heights isn’t going to stop me today.
While I don’t have a plan for what I’ll do once I’m out of this clubhouse, I don’t linger long enough to figure it out. Instead, I’m swinging a leg out. Just as I dip my head under, I hear it. The sound of the door opening.
Oh. Oh no.
“You can’t be fucking serious.” Ripper lets out a growl before I hear his heavy booted steps.
It doesn’t matter. I’m out before he can reach me. As soon as I hit the grass, I’m off. Running like my life depends on it, which I believe it does, I’m headed in a straight line toward my escape.
My van is nowhere close, but if I can make it to the vehicle, I can get out of here. Even if I can just hit the tree line and get lost in the pines, that’ll be enough. I’ll think of a new plan. Do something that doesn’t involve me getting entangled with bad men.
How many steps do I take before I hear the heavy thumps behind me? Making the mistake of looking over my shoulder, a startled gasp leaves my lips when I see Ripper’s already out. Like he’s already got experience with climbing out of windows, he’s on the move in a matter of seconds.
Hearing him growl out my name, my thighs burn as I push myself forward.
My efforts don’t get me very far. As a wave of muscle crashes over me, I fall toward the ground with searing heat at my back.
Hitting the grass, I punch and kick as an immediate response. My heart is soaring, my lungs burning. I’m exhausted, but it’s the rush of adrenaline that’s pumping through my veins that keeps me going.
“Stop fighting.” Ripper flattens me onto my back and snarls when my fist makes contact with his jaw. When he snatches my wrist, I know his burly fingers could snap it with ease. Instead, he’s shoving it against the grass.
He’s in a similar state, his chest swelling with each gulp of air. If looks could kill, I’d be six feet under already.
Something tells me that begging for my life isn’t going to work if I’ve pissed him off, so I don’t. Instead, I use my left hand to try to dig my fingers into him. It’s not a weapon, but I don’t want to leave this world without leaving a mark.
He makes this sound as I dig them into his throat, not of pain, but a groan that’s coming from a source I don’t understand. Before I can try to, he’s snatching that wrist too, before both of my hands are pinned above my head.
We’re both panting. We’re both angry.
“God, you are a fucking handful.” Glaring down at me, his brows pinch together. “Usually, women are the ones chasing after me, not the other way around.”
Oh, he’s got jokes. Great. I’m going to get taken out by a comedian.
“Just do it.” Huffing out the words, I pinch my eyes shut so he can’t see the way they water. They’re not tears of fear, just frustrated ones. “Kill me. You’re going to do it anyway, so just do it.”
Paulie’s dead, I’m sure of it. What do I have left if I’ve lost my only family?
Grimacing, I flinch, waiting for the final blow. Instead, I feel his sigh roll over me.
“Haven.” He groans my name like it pains him. “I’ve decided what I want.”
Opening my eyes, I realize he’s closer. Hovering over me, his hold isn’t as tight on my wrists. His eyes are fixed on me, so focused that I don’t think the world exists in his eyes.
“You’ll go and save him?” The tiny hope that’s still there bubbles up, forcing the words out despite my wanting to shove them back down. “What is it?”
The anger on his face melts away, leaving a blank slate. It’s hard to tell what he’s thinking. Even more when he releases my wrists, much to my surprise. When his fingers find my jaw, his thumb ghosts over my bottom lip.
“I want one kiss, sweetheart.” His demand rings clear, making me realize the truth of who I’m dealing with.
Ripper isn’t just dangerous. He’s absolutely insane.