Page 44 of Sweeter Than Honey
She’d taken a long shower, trying to wash off her conversation with Jett. Granted, the atmosphere between them had been tense and clearly palpable. But something felt off, as if the feeling inside the house had taken a drastic swing.
Stepping outside of the bathroom, she paused in the hallway to listen. She couldn’t say exactly what was unusual. Honestly, she didn’t know this house well enough to know what sounds or lack thereof were normal this time of day. Normally, Jett was moving around outside, wrapping things up for the evening.
Her heart lurched at the thought of him. What was he doing right now? It sucked that they left the conversation the way they had. She hadn’t meant to snap at him, but all of her emotions seemed to bubble out into her words. She could blame it on stress. Lord knew she had enough of that right now. But he’d wounded her, too. She’d always had the feeling deep down that he wasn’t relationship material and a small part of her had hoped she was wrong.
A dull thunking sounded from downstairs. It seemed like it was coming from outside.
“Jett?” She called from the top of the stairs.
Nothing moved down there, and he didn’t respond. He was probably putting honey jars on the porch to bring in for later. Was she ready to face him right now?
Her chest squeezed. Not really. Everything felt too raw from their earlier conversation.
Cara went into her room and dressed in sweatpants and a hoodie. Despite the summer air, it seems cooler as night fell. Fall came quickly to the mountains of Colorado and soon both the days and nights would be chilly. What would it be like in California?
Her stomach fell at the thought. Running a brush through her hair, she wound it into a braid and secured it with a hair tie. Then turned to the open suitcase on the bed. Really, she had very little to put inside. She placed most of the electronics she’d purchased inside and everything except for the toiletry she would need in the morning. Her stomach rumbled, surprisingly. She figured the nausea would be back any time considering this was prime puking hours. It was hard to tell if she was actually hungry, or if her stomach was upset from her fight with Jett.
Maybe a piece of toast to settle her stomach before she attempted to sleep. It was early, she imagined tomorrow would be a long day. By this time tomorrow, she’d be at the commune in California, passed off to yet another shifter pack. More strangers. She thought about Allie’s babies, she’d never see them. If only they’d had more time, Cara figured she and Allie could become good friends.
She zipped up her suitcase and placed it on the floor, then picked up her wet towel and hung it up in the bathroom. Making her way down the stairs, Cara paused at another sound on the porch. She was far enough down the stairway that she could see the doorway. A blocky, dark shadow passed behind the curtain covering the small window of the top the door. Jett?
A flicker of alarm sounded in her brain. The sensation that something was wrong grew stronger. Where was Jett?
She nearly called his name but stopped herself. Something told her to remain still, quiet.
Crouching slightly, Cara crept slowly into the kitchen, careful to stay out of view from the door. She pressed her butt against the counter and reached the knife block behind her. She pulled a butcher knife from its slot and held it tightly in her hand. Moving again so she could see the door, she held her breath as the shape appeared behind the window. The door handle wiggled.
Her heart fell. A burst of adrenaline flooded her blood. Skin pickling, scalp tingling, she moved through the kitchen and pressed herself flat against the wall. Peering toward the door, she watched with bated breath as the handle stopped wiggling. One second passed. Then another.
And suddenly the door was kicked in, the sound of wood splintering, and metal hinges clanking to the floor loud in her ears. She wanted to scream. But the sound was clogged in her throat. She brought the knife around to the front of her, holding it in both hands as four men spilled into the house.
It only took a blink for them to see her.
The man in the front was huge, probably six-five and at least 300 pounds. He had a full beard and a mean glint in his eyes. He grinned, showing off tobacco-stained teeth and gestured behind him. Another man moved to the front, shoving a woman in front of him.
“Holy shit.” Cara’s entire face went numb. It was Olive!
Olive’s face was streaked with tears. Her arms were tied tightly behind her back, and she had ligature marks around her neck as if she had been bound.
“Please, Cara. Please, just do as they say.”
Cara’s eyes darted from Olive to each of the men. She wanted to survive this. To get out of this somehow. These men might not hurt her, but they would most certainly hurt Olive and Cara couldn’t think of a single scenario in which she could get her assistant out of here alive.
Tears stung her eyes. Jett hadn’t come. Had they… hurt him?
She nearly doubled over with the sudden stab ripping through her middle at the thought of Jett being injured or dead.
“What do you want?” It was a stupid thing to ask. She knew.
The man cocked his head in a, ‘really’ gesture. “Put the knife down and get over here.”
Cara swallowed hard. She could pretend to put the knife down, charge him, and drive it into his gut. He was a shifter with height, weight, and strength she was no match for. She wasn’t trained in self-defense. Plus, she was pregnant. She had to think about the baby.
“Fuck,” she uttered helplessly and let the knife drop from her hands. It clanked onto the floor and tumbled to the side.
“Cara, I’m so sorry,” Olive sobbed. “I’m so sorry.”
Cara allowed herself to be grabbed by the arm and pushed through the small grouping of men towards the door. The night air was thick with incoming rain and cool on her face as she stepped outside. The moon was almost full and cast brilliant silver light over the yard. She took two steps onto the porch and pulled up short. Everything inside of her went cold.
