Page 40 of Shelter (The Wanderers 4)

Braylon grabbed Haley’s hand as they hurried through the backyard, making their way toward the gate that led to Riggs’s father’s house. From there, they rounded the side of the house, headed down an embankment, and emerged into a wooded area.

Braylon and Riggs had played among these trees when they were young. They’d called the small copse a forest. It didn’t take long to reach the other side where they paused inside the tree line.

This would be the first hurdle and one of the most stressful parts of their journey. They were at the mercy of a van that would pick them up at two-thirty. That was in twenty minutes. They’d intentionally left the padding so that the van would only need to stop for a moment to allow them all to jump inside.

Braylon would breathe easier after they got into that van. Breathing heavily, mostly from nerves, he pulled Haley into his embrace. “You okay?” he whispered.

“Yes.” She gave his hand a squeeze. She was wearing black leggings that Marian had smuggled in for her under her dress. Haley had never worn pants in her life. One of the first things they would acquire would be appropriate clothes for Haley to wear for the long journey. Dresses were impractical and a hindrance.

“How are you feeling?” Rush asked her as he eased up next to them. He hadn’t seen her since their first meeting.

“I’m good. I promise. Not a single problem.”

Braylon watched the expression on Rush’s face. His brow was furrowed in concern as he searched Haley’s eyes for any sign she might be hiding something.

Braylon had struggled to come to terms with a new reality for the last several days, but the truth was there was a good chance Rush would end up becoming a member of their weird family unit. He was a good guy as far as any of them could tell, and he was the biological father of their group child. Not to mention the fact that he was risking his own life to help get them all to safety.

“There it is,” Storm whispered as a set of lights illuminated the area. Right on time, the white delivery van pulled off the side of this little-traveled section of road.

Braylon grabbed Haley’s hand again as the five of them rushed toward the van door just as it slid open. Without a word, they scurried into the open door in seconds. The van was already pulling away as the man in the back pulled the door shut.

“Sit along the walls so you can grab onto the frame to keep from getting tossed around,” the man suggested. He was wearing all black, and he didn’t bother to introduce himself or look anyone in the eye. He hurried toward the front and climbed into the passenger seat while the driver picked up speed.

Haley was on her knees and she fell forward as the van lurched into the next gear.

Luckily, Storm was next to her. He caught her and pulled her against his side, securing her between himself and Riggs.

Braylon found himself sitting across from her next to Rush. Her eyes were wide with fear. He couldn’t blame her. He felt a similar sense of panic.

The two men in the front said nothing. They all sat in silence for several minutes. Suddenly the van turned off the main road and came to a stop. The driver jumped out of the front while the passenger turned to face them. “We’re going to fill this van with boxes, trapping you five in the middle between them. It’s going to be tight and uncomfortable, but we make this delivery two times a week, so they know us at every checkpoint. We’ve never been stopped.”

The back doors opened as the passenger jumped out to help his partner. Sure enough, with lightning speed, the two men loaded the van, lining both walls with boxes and filling the front and the rear.

Braylon and his friends pressed together in the center. It was tight, uncomfortable, and dark. So dark they couldn’t see anything.

The man spoke one more time. “I know it’s not pleasant. We’ll be traveling for about two hours. It’s okay to lean against the boxes. When we stop at a checkpoint, hold your breath and don’t make a single noise.” He didn’t wait for a response. He simply shut the doors, leaving them to their own defenses.

Seconds later, the van was once again pulling onto the road.

“Hales?” Braylon asked, reaching out in her direction.

She touched his hand and then grabbed on tight.

Rush made a suggestion. “How about if the four of us sit two on each side with our legs stretched out? That way Haley can lie on top of our thighs more comfortably.”

If there was anything remotely funny about this situation, it was trying to get comfortable in the manner Rush had suggested in total darkness. Somehow they managed, and Braylon was glad to be on the end and have Haley’s head in his lap.

He set his hand on her hair and stroked the loose strands away from her face. She gripped his free hand with one of hers. Someone else was holding her other hand.

Braylon knew all three other men were touching her, stroking her. He couldn’t blame them. It was impossible not to. He pictured hands on her legs, thighs, and hips.

Haley wiggled against them. “Guys, I realize I’m the lucky one here who gets to lie down and rest, but I need your forty collective fingers to stop moving against me. Hold still before I self-combust.”

Braylon continued to stroke her hair, ignoring her. He lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles, smiling. He wasn’t sure how often he would get to smile in the coming days, but he would take this moment and store it in his memory.

They may have been trapped in a small uncomfortable space in total darkness, but something about the situation was intimate and not at all unpleasant.

“Sorry,” Storm muttered, his voice husky and low and not at all indicating remorse.

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