Page 80 of Safe Haven

Becca frowns at him. “Do I look like I’m capable of escaping?” One hand goes to her lower stomach. “Even if I wasn’t hemorrhaging through my vagina, I’m still barely a hundred pounds. If you guys can’t handle me, you’re in the wrong business.”

The guy beside me gags again at the word hemorrhaging, and I have to work hard not to snort. I’m not sure if my fight-or-flight is broken after everything I’ve been through, or if I’ve just burned through my personal supply of adrenaline this week, but I’m still not freaking out. Neither is Becca, and I feel like our odds are going up with every minute we manage to drag this car ride out.

Because Becca’s right. We can’t save ourselves. We simply don’t have the physical ability to take any of these guys down. Not even one at a time.

But Maddox will absolutely come for me—for us—and when he gets here, these guys arenotgoing to like what happens.

As I expected, big and stupid takes a very long time in the store. Well over ten minutes. At one point, I thought the guy behind the wheel was going to get out, but then he turned and looked at me and Becca and seemed to change his mind. It’s possible being calm is making him think we’re up to something.

And we are, so technically he’s right.

Eventually—still way too soon—Becca’s handler comes out carrying two bags. Instead of taking the spot next to her, he goes to get in the front seat. The guy behind the wheel glares at him. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Our secret shopper motions to where Becca sits. “I don’t want her fucking bleeding all over me.”

Our driver—definitely the brains of the operation—thumbs over his shoulder. “Get your ass in the back seat and do your job.”

I could swear Mr. Tampon’s skin pales a little as he closes the door and begrudgingly gets in next to Becca. He practically throws both bags at her. One lands on Becca’s lap and the other slaps me in the boob. Becca reaches in and pulls a plastic wrapped bundle from her bag. “These are adult diapers.”

That makes me curious, so I check to see what’s in my bag. I pull out a box of Monistat and a package of panty liners.

“None of this is what I need.” Becca sounds almost annoyed, and again I work hard not to laugh.

“Make it fucking work.” The driver backs out of the spot, obviously unwilling to give anyone the opportunity to go back in. As we get back on the road, I fish around for reasons we couldstop again. “I’m feeling a little queasy. I think I’m gonna throw up. Can we pull over?”

“Use one of the fucking bags he gave you.” The driver shuts me down.

The guy next to me doesn’t seem thrilled with the driver’s suggestion, because he leans as far away from me as he can get. I press one hand against my mouth, making a gagging noise. Maybe I can get him to jump out. Then we’ll be down a guy.

Not that it will make us evenly matched, but it’s better than three on two.

“She can’t throw up in here, Aaron. If she throws up, I’m gonna throw up.” My seatmate seems to really be struggling. His distress seems to distract the guy behind the wheel, and he slows down, so I keep going.

I close my eyes, breathing in deep like I’m trying not to be sick. “I had biscuits and gravy for breakfast too, so it’s not going to feel good coming up.”

Once again, Becca rolls with the plan. “It’ll probably look the same though.”

The guy beside me’s whole body jolts as he retches. “Pull over Aaron. Let her out.”

“No fucking way, asshole.” Aaron keeps eyeing me in the rearview mirror like even he’s starting to get a little worried I might puke. “If she barfs, you’re just gonna have to deal with it. We’re almost there anyway.”

Well, shit.

I managed to buy us a little time, but it doesn’t feel like it was enough. I don’t even know how Maddox will find us at this point. Neither Becca nor I have a phone he can track. I doubt any of the teenagers filling the lobby saw us get dragged out. We might be on our own if they get us inside a building.

And that will prove problematic.

Problematic happens quickly, because soon we’re pulling into the parking lot of a rundown structure that looks like it may have been some sort of shop at one point in time. Now it just looks boarded up and one strong wind away from collapsing.

Aaron pulls around to the back where there’s already two cars parked, and one of them is vaguely familiar.

“Get them out.” Aaron barks out the order and the guys who grabbed me and Becca from the hotel follow his command, each one of them practically dragging us free of the back seat before shoving us in the direction of the door leading inside.

The thick sheets of plywood screwed over the windows make it dark and difficult to see, but from what I can tell, the place looks just as terrible inside as it does outside. There’s trash everywhere and the floor is squishy under my feet. I stumble at an uneven spot and end up essentially being carried into the only lit room of the space. What I see when I get there takes my breath away.

“It’s about fucking time you two found her.” Trevor sneers at the men who brought us in. “But you can’t even take any responsibility for it, can you?” He motions to the man standing next to him. The man currently getting all my attention. “Because he told us exactly where she was.”

Dane won’t even look at me. He’s acting like I’m not even here, which pisses me off just as much as hearing he’s the one who told my ex-husband—a man he knew had abused me—where I was staying.

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