Chapter 1
Chapter One
HAVEN
Present Day
“Great job today. Remember to read up on…” I ignore what the professor is saying and gather my things into my bag.
Thirty-two years old and back on a college campus is traumatic enough, but to listen to a guy five years younger than me trying to teach a subject I’ve been actively working in for a decade is fucking stupid.
However, the great state of Maryland has deemed it necessary that I take four more classes to get my PHD in Pathology because being an MD isn’t fucking sufficient enough for my promotion.
I’ve got a mind to sue them for my therapy bills, ‘cause this is tantamount to torture. PTSD will ensue.
I walk across the campus to the student parking lot and smile at my Ducati.
The only bearable part of this miserable flashback to my younger college days is that I can dress like myself.
No stuffy pant suits, skirts, or high heels unless I want to wear them.
So here I stand in black jeans, my Doc Martens, and an old band t-shirt with so many holes in it that it needs the safety pins attached to stay on my torso, hanging off one shoulder.
I thank my younger self for all the sunscreen I wore to stay pale in the Jersey sun to have my great skin, which lets me blend in with this late teen, early twenties crowd.
I fix the straps on my backpack and then put on my helmet before starting the motorcycle and driving off into the suburb of Baltimore where I live. I pull into my driveway and turn off the bike as my neighbor waves at me.
“Hello, Mrs. Duncan.” I wave back with a smile.
“That dog of yours has been going crazy, love.” Uh oh.
I glance at my front windows and sigh.
The curtains are ripped down, again. The blinds are barely hanging on, and I can see right into my kitchen from where I stand, which is how I catch Diesel, my one-year-old Dobermann, jumping down off my counter.
“Sorry, Mrs. Duncan,” I say as I march my ass to the front door and type in the code to open it.
“I can doggie sit if you want.” The elderly woman says from where she’s planting flowers in her front yard.
She’s a hundred pounds soaking wet, maybe five feet tall, and looks like a stiff gust of wind would knock her over. How she thinks she can handle my demon spawn of a dog is beyond me.
“I’ll think about it!” I call out before walking into the warzone that is my house.
“DIESEL!” I yell as I take stock of what is broken and what can be salvaged.
Curtains, blinds, two vases, and my throw pillows are all a lost cause. My TV, coffee tables, and lamps all look okay. The couches are questionable.
“Those stains better not be shit!” I curse and move into the hallway and grumble as I see my new rug destroyed.
“Fuck dude, that wasn’t even here a week!” I drop my bag on the kitchen counter as I try and fail to keep calm when I see my crockpot shattered on the floor and my dinner spilled all over the floor.
“Remember how I said you could keep your balls? I changed my mind! Kennel NOW!” I point at the metal cage and glare at my dog.
His tail was wagging a moment ago in pride and happiness that I was home, but now he drops his head and whimpers as he walks over to the huge, fluffy bed he has in the kennel before lying down to stare at me with those fucking big brown eyes.
“Nope, you are not getting out of this. You need to learn how to behave. I’m getting you a trainer, and you’re going to doggie daycare starting tomorrow.” I talk as I start to clean up the mess.
Turns out the brown stains on my cream couches were taco meat from the crockpot —thank God.
It takes me hours to sort out my house before I can order myself a pizza at damn near midnight. Thank fuck I’m off tomorrow ‘cause I’m beat by the time I drag my ass into the shower and lie down in bed that night.
I’m just starting to doze off when my cellphone chimes.
“NO,” I sigh and grab at the device.
I’m on call this week, and I know before looking that I’ll need to drag my ass out of bed and to a crime scene, but to my surprise, it’s an unknown number. Frowning, I send it to voicemail and drop my phone on the mattress as I close my eyes again.
A text comes almost instantly.
Haven?
I frown and think before answering.
This is Dr. Demato. Who is this?
Danny, I need your help.
Oh fuck no.
The only Danny I know is my cousin Danica, and we haven’t spoken in years. Last I heard, she’s run off with a biker gang and was running drugs, guns, and fuck knows what else. I am not getting involved with her again.
I can’t help you. Good luck.
It was a cold-hearted way of telling her to fuck off, and she must have gotten the point, cause no more messages came through, allowing me to finally fall asleep.
My brain, however, did not make it peaceful. Dream after dream of Dani and me as kids filled my brain all night long, causing me to wake up several times through the night and debate whether to text or even call her back, to check if she is okay.
Sometimes having a conscience can be a royal bitch.
So here I was drinking coffee at my kitchen counter, watching the sun come up through my French doors, when a loud bang makes me spill the hot liquid all over my hands.
Diesel starts to growl, and I quickly flip the latch on his kennel to let him out. He rushes over to the glass door and starts barking. That’s when I see it.
A figure hidden in the bushes.
I grab the baseball bat I keep by the doors and open it slowly. I grab Diesel’s collar so he doesn’t rush out and yell into my backyard.
“Who’s there?” A bird flies out of my trees, and the wind blows, but no one answers.
I stare at where I thought I saw the shadow, but no one is there.
Diesel growls more and tries to get away from me. I’m just about to let him when a whimper meets my ear. I turn my head and see a woman lying on my grass reaching for me.
“Haven, help.” I spring into action, my medical training taking over in a heartbeat.
She’s covered in bruises, bleeding from several stab wounds, both her eyes are swollen shut, someone has cut off a few of her fingers, and that’s only from what I can see. Who knows what I’ll find once I get her clothes off?
“Danica, what happened to you?” How did she even get here?
“Attacked, ran, help.” She passes out in my arms, and I curse.
So much for not getting involved.
I can’t just leave her here to die. My family would never forgive me. Plus, who knows what really happened or if whatever trouble she got into is chasing her. And she led them right to me.
FUCK.