Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60978 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
I didn’t hear him come back. Sometime later, I stirred slightly, vaguely aware of a warm weight settling over me. The familiar scent of leather and motor oil registered dimly in my sleep-fogged brain. I forced my eyes open, blinking against the dim light to find Cash settling back into his chair across from me.
His leather jacket now covered me like a blanket, surprisingly heavy and warm against my chest and shoulders. He’d removed it without me noticing and draped it carefully over me while I slept. The gesture was so unexpected, so quietly thoughtful, I found myself staring at him, trying to reconcile this gentle consideration with his rough exterior.
Cash met my gaze steadily, unembarrassed to be caught in an act of kindness. Neither of us spoke.
I pulled the leather jacket closer around my shoulders, surprised by the comfort it provided. The material retained his body heat, and beneath the obvious scents of his gasoline and leather lingered something else distinctly Cash. I should have felt strange wrapped in a near-stranger’s clothing, but instead, I felt oddly protected, as if the jacket carried some of the same steady presence as its owner.
As I drifted back toward sleep, I found myself wondering about this man who sang to frightened children and gave up his jacket without hesitation. About how he had appeared in our lives at the exact moment we needed someone to see us, to believe us, to stand with us. And about how, despite every instinct I’d developed over years of self-reliance, I felt safer with him watching over us than I had in longer than I could remember.
The quiet beeping of Lily’s monitors created a gentle rhythm following me down into sleep, my fingers still curled around the edge of Cash’s jacket, holding onto this unexpected gift as tightly as I held onto the new hope sparking to life in the midst of our darkest moment.
Chapter Seven
Cash
I watched from my bike as Eliza clutched her small suitcase in one hand and Lily’s fingers in the other. The morning sun threw long shadows across the gravel lot as they approached Haven’s entrance, their faces pale with exhaustion after the hospital discharge. Lily, her shoulder still immobilized and her pink cast bright against her pale skin, seemed steadier than her mother as they passed through the security gate where Knuckles’ men kept watch. The contrast broke something inside me, seeing the small child with her head up while her mother looked ready to collapse.
Lana’s sleek sedan pulled in beside my bike, and she stepped out with her usual efficiency. “They get inside yet?”
“Just now,” I replied, nodding toward the heavy security door where Eliza had pressed the intercom button. The industrial facade of the converted warehouse didn’t look welcoming, with its chain-link fence and security cameras. Most people drove past without ever suspecting the sanctuary hidden inside.
I followed Lana toward the entrance, giving Eliza and Lily enough space to not feel crowded. The vestibule’s bulletproof glass gleamed in the morning light as we approached. Inside, Pippa buzzed us through the second set of doors into Haven proper.
The transformation always surprised newcomers. Outside, everything screamed “stay away” with concrete and steel. Inside, warm, pale-yellow walls welcomed visitors, comfortable furniture grouped in conversation areas, and a small play area visible from the entrance filled with donated toys and books. Children’s artwork decorated the walls, bright splashes of color against the soft backgrounds. Even the fluorescent lighting had been replaced with warmer fixtures to make the space feel like a home.
“Welcome to Haven,” Hannah said, stepping forward with a genuine smile. Knuckles’ old lady had a gift for putting frightened women at ease, her quiet strength and warm eyes instantly reassuring. None of them knew beneath Hannah’s friendly exterior, a merciless killer lurked. Hannah’s entire adult life had been devoted to eliminating serial abusers. Hannah’s presence meant she was sizing up Eliza. Lana hadn’t been kidding when she said she would be taking everything very seriously. “We’re so glad you’re here with us, Eliza.” Hannah extended her hand to Eliza, who hesitated before releasing her white-knuckled grip on her suitcase to accept the greeting. I noticed she kept Lily firmly anchored at her side, unwilling to let her daughter stray even an inch.
“Thank you for letting us stay until Ms. Thompson helps me with Lily,” Eliza replied, her voice steady despite the tension visible in her shoulders. “We appreciate it.”
Hannah smiled down at Lily. “And you must be the brave girl I’ve heard about. I’m Hannah.”
Lily nodded, suddenly shy. “I’m Lily,” she whispered, clutching her stuffed rabbit, Mr. Flopsy, against her chest with her good arm. She peered past Hannah to where two children about her age played with blocks in the corner. Her face lit up with interest, though she remained pressed against her mother’s side.