Haven

by J D Worth

  I’m breathing heavy. A flush sweeps my body from our overheated exchange. He hums deep in his throat and lifts me up in a swift motion, placing me against the door again. I hook my legs around him. He spreads his hands across my ass as we kiss. I pull back and stare deep into his eyes as I peel my shirt upward.

  Mace stops cold and puts me down. “Princess, you’re killing me when you look at me like that.”

  “What way? I thought we both had the same idea of where the night was going.”

  “You want me to rip off your clothes and take you right here.” His reply includes a frustrated groan, not rooted from desire.

  “That’s a quick and dirty way of expressing how I’m feeling.” I shock myself with my honest confession. A hookup was never part of the plan here and not my style at all. Then again, I never expected to meet someone like Mace.

  “Yeah, we’re not gonna go there.” Kicking back from the sting of his rejection, I bump against the door. I relish the cool plane of glass against my damp neck while he takes his time straightening my shirt. “I can’t.” His eyes remain glued to the marks on my chest.

  My mouth gapes after the way he kissed me several times tonight. I turn around, fearing all he sees is damaged goods while hiding my tears. I never should’ve let my feelings escalate this far.

  “Princess ... that’s not—”

  “I get it. Just go! Go home, Mace.” I burst through my cottage and slam the door behind me. I throw the deadbolt and turn off the light for good measure. I know my message is rather childish, but I don’t care.

  His fist hits the door hard. “Fuck!” He turns, stomping down the stairs. The wheels of his Harley peel out of the driveway as he drives off into the darkness.

  Seeking comfort, I throw myself upon my mother’s bed, wrapping her yellow quilt around me. Again, I’m rattling myself by crying. This outpouring of weakness is something I learned to shut down a long time ago. It’s clear after stepping foot in my family’s cottage, I’m unraveling like the fraying quilt. There are feelings I can no longer suppress. The ace of hearts card Mace gave me sits face up on my nightstand, taunting me.

  I have seen male stockbrokers throw chairs and telephones across the room. If a woman dares to shed one tear at Aster Holdings, management would fire her for having an emotional breakdown. How am I supposed to survive the next four weeks, let alone head back to the city? I can’t afford tangling in my emotions. There’s too much at stake.

  I snatch the card from the nightstand and send it sailing into a corner with one sharp flick of my wrist.

  12

  Warm beams of sunlight shine through the kitchen windows as I grab one of the boxes of tea glasses. Popping open the back door, I meander through the woods until I find a cluster of large boulders. I set the box by my feet and lean on a rock for support. The hobnails forms prisms in the sunshine as I hold one of the glasses up. The refractions are so fucking beautiful like a handful of little rainbows.

  I slam the glass against a large boulder across from me. I snatch another and smash away. “You wretched witch, Lilith!” I toss one like a baseball. “This should be you’re fucking head, Chaz!” Another glass explodes against the hard gray surface. I smile. “Piss off, William!” I pick up two at a time and smash them on top of the rock. “Georgina, lucky you for owning twice my wrath for your frigging cancer pink wedding!” The fractured bottom half of a glass bounces back and bites my leg, drawing blood. I pick up the box and slam the contents against the rock. The glasses clink together, shattering in an orchestra of destruction. The dented box lays limp against the rock while glass shards spread across the ground. “Damn you, cancer!” I breathe in a deep breath and close my eyes.

  Tears come. I can’t control them. My hands shake worse than ever before. Worse than the moments after my mother died when I destroyed all of the dishes in our empty swimming pool. I lift the half-shattered glass at my feet. The broken top looks like a jagged crown while drops of my blood runs down the side. Balancing the glass on the top of the boulder, I am no princess, I’m broken. “No, I don’t get to fucking cry. I don’t get to be weak!” I shake off the tears and straighten my back like a good soldier. “I have a fucking job to do, and I’m the only one who can do this shit.”

  I march back to my cottage just as a black Jeep Wrangler careens up my driveway. Locking the back door, I pass through the cottage, spying Mace rolling the soft cover roof back on his Jeep through the windows. I stare at him. He’s so damn handsome.

  I shove the door open, growing irritated he’s here. He’s pushing me, and I’m not strong enough to push back. I need to destroy frigging tea glasses just to keep my sanity.

  The corner of his mouth lifts in a smile. “Morning, Princess. You wanna go for a ride?” I’m unsure of what to say after the way we left things last night. Here he is smiling and asking me to join him again. He did the same after I left him at the diner and the reception. “Don’t just stand there! Go on and grab your stuff. You’re spending the morning with me.” He pulls out a large box and sets a small motorcycle helmet on my deck.

  “What’s that?” I ask, tapping his box with my foot.

  “Hey, your leg is bleeding.” He fishes out a white rag from his back pocket and takes his time wiping away the line of blood. My heart patters as little flutters begin again in my stomach.

  “Umm, thanks. I took a walk around the property and scraped my leg along the way.”

  He tosses the rag into the back of his jeep. Grinning, Mace lifts up a Candy Land game. “Didn’t want you to get homesick. I’m borrowing the game, so don’t lose any of the pieces.”

  “Let me guess, from Aiden.”

  He scrunches up his face. “Try Trent. He created a drinking game with color coordinated Jell-O shots that he’s adding to your bucket list.”

  “Okay...?”

  “I got you solar lights for your path.” He lifts one up and shows me. “Don’t want you to step on any snakes while running ’round barefoot.”

  I pull my mouth to the side in a contemplative grimace. “Snakes?”

  He scratches the gruff on his chin, smiling. “Yup, poisonous too. Cottonmouths hang out in marshy wetlands like the one that surrounds your property.”

  “I hope you’re joking.” I swing my head back to the woods I just emerged as shivers run over me.

  “We don’t joke ’bout snakes. Do you want me to round one up for you?”

  “Here?” I point to my yard, my mouth agape.

  He squints at me. “I’ll leave you with my machete so you’ll feel safer.” He pulls out a long knife from his Jeep and sets the weapon on my deck. “Now, will you move that fine ass of yours and join me?”

  “I didn’t know knight in shining armor duties included installing solar lights, arming me with a machete, or having Cal stow my french toast order from the diner in the fridge.”

  “You liked that, huh?” Mace manages a little smile.

  I stand in the doorway, not sure what to say next.

  “Well, go on then,” he says, wide-eyed in mock consternation. “Get!”

  Mace turns his head towards the road as a vehicle nears. The sheriff pulls up in a black cruiser. I ask, “What’s the sheriff doing here?”

  He tosses a throaty chuckle my way. “Go change. I’ll take care of Hal.”

  My heart pounds as I scurry into my cottage. I change and lock up, pausing by the door. Hal is talking with Mace at the far end of the driveway and neither looks pleased with the situation. Hal stops mid-sentence and stares at me.

  Mace’s low timbre carries across the yard. “I told you to be prepared.” Hal turns back towards Mace and stands in front of him, cutting off my view as they pass words back and forth. Mace’s voice rises as he says, “Blood comes first.”

  Their conversation hushes as they glance my way. Hal’s rich chestnut colored eyes dance around my face as I take timid steps, closing the distance. Hal straightens his posture. “Miss Wakefield,
I have a few questions I need to ask.” He sets his sheriff’s hat on his car hood and runs his hand over his dark brown hair that curls with the humidity. He wipes the sheen of sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief while sending Mace a knowing look. I slide my oversized Dior glasses on and glance back at Mace. He nods his head at me.

  “I’m sorry, you called me Wakefield. My last name is Aster.”

  Hal clears his throat and blinks in Mace’s direction.

  “Give her some time, Hal,” Mace replies in a gruff voice. “This is all new to her.”

  Hal says, “Now, young lady, in these parts you’re better off sticking with the Wakefield name. Are we on the same page?” I gaze back at him. “How ’bout I call you Miss Audrey instead?” I nod as he steps closer to me. “I made a recent arrest of a mouthy white boy and dropped him off at County myself on Saturday night. The problem is, mouthy white boys—especially Yankees—don’t disappear quietly from County Lockup.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Hal draws his eyes across my face. “There was a commotion over at Sonny’s bar on Saturday night. I took statements at Sonny’s and the wedding reception at the Aster Resort. Witnesses stated that you and Chaz Everett are dating. He borrowed your vehicle when he hit up the bar in town for some local flavor.”

  “Sheriff, we aren’t dating. Chaz was the escort my grandmother arranged for the wedding and that was it. I had no idea my car left the premises. On Sunday morning, my stepmother informed me my car was at the local garage.”

  “Mr. Everett went missing from lockup during the night. His booking papers vanished as well. Things are looking as if I never hauled his ass over to County in the first place. I have to ask, did you facilitate or influence his release in any way?” My jaw goes slack.

  “Hal,” Mace calls from behind him.

  Hal slants his head towards me, demanding an answer.

  “Sheriff?” Mace’s face darkens. Hal glances back at him and squares his shoulders. Stepping off to the side, they exchange heated words.

  My phone rings. Lilith’s name flashes on the screen. I sink into a pool of uncertainty. This is no coincidence. I answer the call, anticipating her latest wrath. “Lilith.”

  “Audrey, it has come to my attention that a hillbilly sheriff is poking around and asking questions. Is he with you at this moment?”

  “Yes.” Turning away from Hal and Mace, I drop my head.

  “Listen to me carefully,” her voices sharpens as she says, “I’m going to give you instructions, and you’re going to follow them if you wish to remain at your cottage. Repeat after me, loud enough that the sheriff can hear … I don’t know.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “This time raise your voice as though you’re angry and agitated that we are having this conversation. Repeat … I told you, I don’t know where Chaz is. Make sure you add ‘Grandmother’ on the end so he knows you’re conversing with me.”

  My eyes freeze on the sheriff’s vehicle. These are the moments that make me suspect Lilith has psychopathic tendencies. She has to think emotions through, given she is incapable of feeling them for herself.

  I raise my voice, adding a clipped tone to convey my anger at her. It isn’t difficult. “I told you that I don’t know where Chaz is, Grandmother.” The moniker seems so foreign that I can almost feel her shudder from the other end.

  “Now, say … The last time I saw him was at the wedding reception where he was heavily intoxicated.”

  Realizing she’s been pulling my strings, her words easily slip from my mouth. How long have I been her fucking puppet?

  “In a moment, you are going to hand off your phone to him so that I may have a word. I want you to wear a polite, measured smile when you approach him. You will say, ‘Excuse me, Sheriff, my Grandmother Lilith is also seeking the whereabouts of her lax employee. If you could please have a word with her.’ Then you place the phone in his hand before he has an opportunity to refuse you.”

  Swallowing the unease building in my throat, I follow her instructions. Hal holds my phone to his ear while his unrelenting eyes remain on me. I wind up in a stupefied daze. A thousand questions fly through my head. The most pressing: What happened to Chaz?

  Mace’s eyes hide behind mirrored aviator sunglasses. His stance remains tense, squaring off with Hal.

  Hal says, “Will do, ma’am.” He ends the call and returns my phone. “If Mr. Everett tries to make contact, you call this number first.” He hands over his card. “Not your grandmomma, not Mace.” He pats his chest. “Only me.”

  “I will, Sheriff Watkins.”

  “Let me remind you, Miss Wakefield, lying to an officer is a crime. Withholding information is a crime. Aiding and abetting is also a crime, and I will prosecute to the fullest extent of the law.”

  My throat constricts.

  Mace stomps in front of me. “What the fuck, Hal?” Hal’s eye burn with fury as he gazes over Mace’s shoulder at me. “Princess, go wait over by my Jeep. Don’t move till I say so, okay?”

  I take measured breathes as I shuffle out of earshot.

  Hal’s voice carries when his voice raises in frustration. “The fuckin’ Asters strike again!” He kicks the dirt as he swears. “Look what they’re doing to her. Charlotte—”

  “I’m handling things, Hal. She’s a princess through and through. You hear me? She is one of us.” Mace drops his voice, so I take a meandering step closer, fascinated with a spike of blue wildflowers close by. I catch Mace saying, “We finally got the upper hand. Time to put your plan in play.”

  “Watch it.” Hal tips his head towards me, letting Mace know I’m closer than I should be. I pluck the flower, keeping my attention pressed to the woods. Hal slams his hat back on his head and moves further away. Tense words volley between the two angry men for a solid five minutes.

  Mace points back to me. “Hey, Princess, would you say I left ’round four this morning?”

  “Yes,” I reply without processing the question. My brows snap together. He left after two, and I dove under the covers alone. What the hell was Mace doing for those two hours?

  Hal’s sharp voice slaps back. “This ain’t over.”

  “No doubt it ain’t,” Mace retorts, his voice as wooden as his body. Hal slides his eyes my way, and Mace steps in front of him again.

  “Mace, you don’t wanna get involved with this. Remember what happened last time? How ’bout the time before? Let me—”

  “No, you got a family we gotta protect now.” Mace tilts his head so that Hal’s eyes land back on me. “My eyes are wide open, Hal.”

  “Mace, don’t do this.”

  “Too late. We’re done for today.”

  When Hal backs his cruiser out of the driveway, I turn to Mace. “What was that about?” I cross my arms over my torso, hoping to settle the sea-sickening motion of my stomach.

  “It’s no secret ’round here that nobody likes the Asters. They screw over everyone and destroy everything to get their way.”

  “And there’s no secret when that’s the cost of doing business with the Asters.”

  “I usually keep Hal in the loop when something goes down. This time I didn’t. I wanted to keep your name away from Pretty Boy. Hal’s mighty pissed he’s backtracking now. He would’ve kept Pretty Boy in the local drunk tank on Bell if he knew he was a runner.”

  “Do you think that’s what happened? What if there was foul play?”

  Mace taps his fingers against his chest, asking, “What … you think I had something to do with his disappearance?”

  “I didn’t say that. You left at two, not four.”

  “And you also needed an alibi. Don’t you think it was convenient your grandmomma calls at the first sign of trouble with Pretty Boy?”

  “My grandmother is more concerned with protecting the Aster name.”

  “Yeah, you told me with an iron fist, and she has the money to make that happen.”

  “
So does Chaz.”

  “What does that mean?” Mace asks, leaning against his Jeep.

  “He’s a managing director of foreign investments.”

  “What kind of dough does he pull in?”

  “You remarked how his money or clout doesn’t mean anything. What if he bought clout? He earns upwards of a million and half a year with bonuses. How much do jail guards make in the rural parts of this state? Twenty grand?”

  “Or someone could’ve easily bought off one of his cellmates with a tub of fried chicken. It wouldn’t take much for Pretty Boy to piss everyone off. Pretty Boy disappeared between the two a.m. bed check and four. The guard skipped the three o’clock rounds to grab lunch.”