Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63842 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 319(@200wpm)___ 255(@250wpm)___ 213(@300wpm)
Jade — I ran from a man who broke me, only to land in the arms of a biker who could destroy what little I have left. Rip is an alpha protector with a dangerous edge I can’t seem to resist. He sees too much, wants too much, and makes me crave things I swore I’d never risk again. He gives me the courage to believe in myself. When my past refuses to let me go, I know I can surrender or stand and fight. If my ex thinks he can take everything from me again, he’s about to learn exactly how wrong he is.
Rip — The first time I see Jade, she’s barely holding herself together, a trauma survivor trying to outrun a nightmare who won’t stay buried. She’s still fragile enough I know better than to push my way into her life, even when every instinct tells me to pull her close and never let her go. I don’t expect her to see me as anything more than a safe place. Whether I claim her or not, my MC brothers will lay down their lives for her. And when the smoke clears and the blood is washed away, Jade will know she was always meant to be mine. Forever.
Warning: adult themes including past thoughts of suicide, physical and psychological abuse, and child abuse, which may trigger some readers. Protective ex-con hero, HEA, as always, no cheating, no cliffhangers
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Jade
The soft, warm lighting in the small dining room did little to reassure me. I stared at my hands resting on the scarred wooden table, watching them tremble against my will. Three weeks at Haven, and my body still hadn’t gotten the message that I was safe now. Safe. What a strange word to apply to homelessness, to sitting in a communal room, surrounded by women who couldn’t meet my eyes because we all recognized the shame in each other’s faces.
I pulled down my sleeve to cover the faint, yellowing bruise on my wrist. My ribs still throbbed with a dull persistent ache that no amount of ibuprofen could completely relieve. The pain was almost comforting -- a reminder that I hadn’t imagined it all, that I wasn’t crazy. My fingers brushed against my cheekbone, the swelling finally gone but the discoloration still visible beneath the concealer I’d carefully applied that morning.
A little boy, maybe five or six, darted past me chasing after his sister, both of them laughing. Their mother called after them in a hushed voice. All the women here spoke quietly most of the time, as if normal volume might shatter whatever fragile peace we’d found. Or too afraid our respite would end in violence once again. I watched them without trying to seem like I was watching. Their mother had dark circles under her eyes, but she smiled when she caught them, tickled them until they squealed.
I looked away. There was an intimacy to their bond that felt invasive to witness, like I was trespassing on something precious. I didn’t belong here, among these women who’d fled with children, with purpose. What did I have? A business degree I’d never used, a dried-up marketing career, and a suitcase only half full of clothes I’d grabbed while Eric was at work. No kids. No friends left. Just bruises and tremors and the growing realization that I had nowhere else to go.
“Jade? Do you have a moment?”
I looked up to see Ada approaching, a clipboard tucked under her arm and a sympathetic smile on her face. Since I’d come here, I’d learned that every woman from that club Mia’s new man belonged to volunteered at this place. The men guarded Haven but never made the residents feel smothered. In fact, I only saw them occasionally. Everyone here cared. Probably too much sometimes. I saw the people who came through here. Everyone had a sob story and most of them were horrific. By comparison, I’d had it pretty easy.
“Of course,” I said, straightening my posture automatically.
Ada slid into the chair opposite me and placed the clipboard on the table between us. “Your thirty-day evaluation period ends this weekend,” she said, her voice soft. “I have your extension paperwork here. I hate that we have to do shit like this, but it gets us money for supplies.” She smiled.
My heart stuttered. I hadn’t realized how terrified I was of her saying anything else until the relief flooded through me. “Yes,” I said too quickly, then bit my lip. “I mean, if that’s OK. I’m still working on… figuring things out.” I had to force myself not to wring my hands. I didn’t used to be like this. I didn’t want to be like this now.
Ada pushed the clipboard toward me. “That’s what we’re here for. I just need your signature.”
I picked up the pen, my fingers trembling. I gripped it tighter, trying to control the shake as I signed my name. Ada watched without commenting on my obvious anxiety. She was good at that -- giving people dignity even when they were falling apart.
“Thank you,” she said, taking back the clipboard. “The extension is for another sixty days. After that, we’ll reassess.”
I tried to smile but couldn’t quite commit. I knew how pathetic I looked by not getting back in the game of life, but the thought of trying to explain the abrupt departure from my previous job, of interviewing with visible bruises, of having to be around strange men who might remind me of Eric, could send me into a panic attack.
“Jade, honey? You OK?”
I glanced up at Ada when she spoke. Short answer? No. I wasn’t OK. Better answer? “Fine,” I said. “Just tired.”
Her eyes softened with understanding that made me want to crawl under the table. “There’s a resume workshop on Thursday. No pressure, but it might help to interact with others. And group therapy tomorrow at four is open to everyone.” She put her hand on my shoulder. “There’s no rush, you know. I’m checking boxes because it’s required. You take as much time as you need. We call this place Haven for a reason.”
When she left, I let my shoulders slump, exhausted by the brief interaction. Across the room, a woman about my age was showing her daughter how to braid string into a friendship bracelet. Another was helping her son with what looked like math homework. I’d wanted that once. A family. To be all domesticated and stuff.