Page 9 of Rescuing Our Bride

He catches my gaze before dropping his back to the phone at his feet and then snapping it up to Anna. In a matter of seconds, he’s reading the room and diffusing the tension.

“Right.” Mark claps his hands and rubs his palms together. “How about we go for a walk? Get some fresh air.”

Fresh air? What we need is a fresh start. A do-over for a morning that went off the rails faster than a runaway freight train. But I get where Mark’s going with this. We can’t let Anna call her mom, or have any contact with the outside world. Not yet. We’re not the monsters, and she’s not our captive. Never was. The plan had always been to let her go. A little taste of freedom would go a long way to remind her that she’s not a prisoner here. Not really.

Well, at least not once we come up with a new plan. One where we get to keep Anna safe, make her hours, and have her reconnect with her mom without worrying about Patrick.

7

ANNA

Awalk? My mother is sick, and my father’s only solution to the mounting medical bills that our family is drowning in was to sell me off to one of the most powerful and ruthless men in existence. My hand in marriage, my virginity, in exchange for cold hard cash. My services rendered and payment would be made, wiping out our family’s medical debts and paying for the rest of my mother’s medical treatment and expenses.

Except that never happened. Thanks to Mark and Jax.

Not only did they crash my wedding, along with any hope of saving my mother, but they helped themselves to my virginity, which I offered up with wonton abandon. Hell, they came for seconds and thirds. I should have been terrified, furious, and felt anything other than the overwhelming desire to be consumed by them. This is crazy. Maybe I’m going crazy, but they’re crazier than I am if they think a casual stroll through the woods will fix my problems.

“The only thing I have to wear, apart from this sheet,” I glance down at the cotton fabric wrapped around me like a security blanket, “is my wedding dress. And a pair of high heels. I’m hardly equipped for a hike in the woods, and I’m not going to find inner peace and connect with nature going au natural.”

“We’ve got that covered. Mark and I picked up a few things for you before we, uh…well, before yesterday.” Jax rakes his fingers through his hair and then around the back of his neck. He looks uncomfortable, maybe even a little apologetic for refusing my phone call.

Good.

He should feel bad about not letting me talk to my mother. I sure as hell did. She was sick and now she would be worried about my disappearance. An added stress she doesn’t need given her worsening condition.

The doctors said she beat the odds and was in remission. She looked great, felt great, better than she had in years. Until one day she didn’t. Her cancer came back with a vengeance. Her oncologist is recommending an aggressive treatment plan. One we can’t afford on top of the bills my father still hasn’t paid from her first battle with cancer. She doesn’t need to be worrying about me or fighting with the bill collectors and the insurance company.

Not when I was the one who was supposed to save her.

By marrying Patrick. The thought of him, his hands on me, on what would have been my wedding night, makes my stomach churn. Maybe that’s why I had sex with random strangers. My act of rebellion. Give up the one thing Patrick wanted most—my virginity; on my terms, to someone—or two someones—of my choosing. Not my father’s. Of course, Mark and Jax weren’t really random strangers. There was nothing random about how we met. They’d planned it.

What they hadn’t planned on was their attraction to me. Or mine to them.

Man, Am I screwed up or what? The air in the old farmhouse feels thick and stuffy. I can’t breathe. My chest is tight, and the walls feel like they’re closing in. Black spots dance in the corners of my vision. Recognizing the symptoms of a panic attack, I force myself to suck in a breath of air, and then another. Too fast. I’ll hyperventilate or pass out at this rate.

Mark and Jax are watching me, worry etched on their faces, poised and ready to jump in if I black out.

I take another breath. Slower, deeper this time, through my nose, and then exhale through my mouth. Again. I repeat the process until I get my breathing and myself under control.

“Maybe some fresh air will do me some good.” I’m not in the mood for a nature hike, but I need to shake off the rush of anxiety, and getting out of the house is bound to help.

Their shared relief is a palpable thing. Slacked shoulders, easy half smiles, and an overall release of tension in their bodies and the air around us.

“Good. That’s good. We’ll go on a walk, get some air, some sun, and just relax, okay?” Jax raises his hands in a placating gesture and steps to the side to give me a little space.

“Fine. I might need to get out of the house, but that doesn’t mean I’m not pissed. Because I am,” I reply with a huff, refusing to give them an inch. “You said you have clothes for me?”

The question was directed at Mark. I’m not sure I want to speak to Jax right now. Neither of them would let me call my mom, but only one of them had actually told me no. So Jax’s bearing the brunt of my anger. Maybe that’s why he takes it upon himself to answer.

“Come on, I’ll show you to your room. Well, the room we set up for you, anyway. We didn’t get much. Just a few things to tide you over until you found somewhere new to call home.” Jax shrugs and slips between me and the counter to lead the way upstairs. He hesitates just outside the bedroom door. “Suitcase is in the closet. Like I said, the plan was to help you start a new life somewhere else.”

There’s a heavy pause and a sigh that follows. “I really am sorry, Anna.” And with that, he disappears down the stairs to wait with Mark while I get dressed.

His apology sounded genuine. I want to believe him and it’s harder to stay mad at him when I know he’s making it clear that he feels as badly about me not talking to my mom as I do. Mark and Jax lost their foster mother to cancer and a series of events put into play by my former fiancé. Just referring to him as that makes the bile in my stomach burn the back of my throat. Still, the men who kidnapped me for revenge know something about loss and have the same appreciation for a mother’s love that I do.

I can use that to my advantage. Maybe while we’re out on our walk, I can convince them to let me call my mom just long enough to tell her I’m okay. And if not, well then, maybe I can convince myself to run away from them. Back to my mom.

And Patrick.

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