Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60848 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“He likes you,” she said with the conviction of absolute certainty.
“I’m honored,” I replied, meaning it more than she could know.
That’s when I saw it… the recognition in her eyes. Not of me specifically, but of something in me that felt safe despite appearances. I’d seen the look often but this was the first time I could say someone making that judgment had the right of it. I could be deceptively calm. Until I wasn’t. But not with this girl. Or anyone here seeking shelter.
The moment stretched between us like a bridge, this strange connection forged in the quietest of gestures. I gently returned Mr. Hoppers to her waiting hands, and she clutched him close again, a half-smile ghosting across her face.
Then the spell broke when the very kind of man this little girl had been running from just walked into the Goddamned foyer.
“Let me in, you little bitches! I know she’s in there!” The male voice exploded from outside the main area but still inside the warehouse, followed by the sound of something hitting the front door hard enough to rattle the windows. I wasn’t certain how he’d gotten in but I knew at least two of the brothers wouldn’t be far behind him.
Still, the reaction inside was immediate. Mothers gathered children to them, some retreating down hallways, others frozen in place. The volunteer at the coffee station fumbled her pot, dark liquid splashing across the counter. A woman with a cast pressed herself against the wall, face drained of color.
“My husband,” she whispered, eyes wide with terror. “He found me.” Her whimper tore at my heart, but more, fueled my anger toward the man outside.
The shelter coordinator, a tall woman with short gray hair, moved swiftly toward the security office, her face hard, showing no signs of panic. She’d hit the panic button that not only notified the local sheriff’s office but would give them a live feed of our cameras so they could see what they were up against. This wasn’t the first angry ex to show up, but something in her expression told me this one was especially dangerous. This was the kind of man the women coming to Haven had run from. And I hated every Goddamned motherfucking one of ‘em.
“I just want to talk to her!” The voice outside rose again, followed by another impact against the door. “You can’t keep my wife from me! I have rights!”
Kira scurried back to her mother and sister, who had both risen to their feet. Penny’s face had gone chalk-white, her arm instinctively curving around Zelda’s shoulders. Not their problem, but they recognized the threat all too well.
I rose to my full height in one fluid motion, unfurling from my seated position like a dark promise. My protective instincts surged, not just for the woman with the cast but for all of them. For Penny and her girls, for every resident who’d found temporary safety behind these walls. But especially for those who hadn’t made it here.
“Stay here,” I said to no one in particular, my voice calm despite the anger swelling inside me. I rolled my shoulders and popped my neck. I felt the leather of my vest stretch across my back over my T-shirt. “I’ll handle this.”
As I moved toward the door, residents parted before me like I was Moses at the Red Sea. This time, the fear in their eyes didn’t pain me. This time, it had a purpose. Some men need to be feared. Others needed to fear. Those included men who think their fists give them rights over women and children.
I swiped my key card to open the heavy security door separating the common area from the lobby. The women all had their own cards to get in and out, but we opted for a swipe on both sides to open the door to prevent the children from accidentally opening up the door to danger.
The door swung outward, into the reception space. I was careful to keep myself between the opening and the bastard currently being blocked by Griffin and Inferno. Griffin was usually pretty good at redirecting and deescalating, but Inferno could sometimes be a bit of a hothead. No pun intended. Stepping into the small reception space, I didn’t open the door far and made sure it shut quickly. I braced myself in case the bastard got through my brothers.
The smell hit me first. Cheap cologne, mingling with the tang of cheaper alcohol. The man stood about five-ten, wearing a rumpled button-down and slacks that looked expensive despite the wrinkles. He was thickly built, kind of like someone who was athletic in college but hadn’t yet realized his muscle was slowly being replaced by fat.
The guy whipped his head around, and for a split second, I watched the calculations play across his face as he took in my size. I knew what he saw -- nearly seven feet of thick muscle wrapped in a leather vest with the Kiss of Death MC patch prominently displayed. His eyes widened, then narrowed with the stubborn bravado of a man too drunk and too entitled to recognize real danger.