Inevitable Detour (23 page)

“It was pretty awesome,” he agrees. Then, in a more serious tone, he says, “As for this neighborhood, it is ordinary, Essa. That was the appeal when I first found the house we’re going to. It’s one of the reasons why it’s now a safe house.”

“What was the other reason?” I ask.

He slows to a stop in front of a very nice white stucco house with black shutters. He says, “Take a look around, Essa. Not everything is as it appears.”

Isn’t that the truth!

I refrain from voicing what I’m really thinking and instead look around as directed. Farren is correct. Though we are in the middle of a neighborhood that, on first glance, appears to be an archetype of typical suburbia, most of the houses in the vicinity are empty, the vacant lots dotted with foreclosure signs.

“This area was hit hard when the recession began.” Farren turns off the ignition and leans back in his seat. “It’s just now starting to recover. I directed Rick to buy this house a while ago. It’s an ideal location, and it’s turned out to be safer than expected.”

“Kind of like hiding in plain sight,” I muse, releasing my seat belt.

“You got it,” Farren confirms.

We exit the Ferrari and walk up the driveway to the front of the house. There’s no one around anywhere, and everything is quiet. The solitude feels bizarre on a nice evening like this. Uneasiness creeps over me. But when I think on it further, I realize my feelings have nothing to do with the vacant neighborhood. My bad feelings stem from an unsettled notion that things are clipping along much too smoothly. Despite Rick needing to move Haven once—and Farren’s detour to meet with disgusting Dawson—this search-and-rescue mission has gone off without a hitch. Now it just feels as if something big might be looming. But for the life of me, I have no idea what that something could turn out to be.

Luckily, I’m quickly relieved of my feelings of doom when Farren knocks on the front door and Rick opens it.

Standing directly next to Rick is Haven.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!” I cry out.

I throw my arms around the girl I haven’t seen in weeks. Haven is also a girl I thought I might never see again. “Haven,” I say, my voice hitching, “I was so scared for you. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

We both start crying as she hugs me back, her much-thinner-than-before frame shaking like a leaf.

“Essa,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you’re really here. Rick told me you were traveling with Farren, but it didn’t feel possible. I thought it wasn’t real.”

“It’s real,” I assure her, stepping back. “And I’m really here.”

I glance over and smile at the man who made that happen. I don’t voice to his sister that this journey has changed my life in so many ways. But when Farren gives me a small smile, I know he sees in my eyes that I’ve changed, and that he is a big reason why.

In characteristic Haven fashion, Haven then makes a joke. “Jeez, Essa, I knew it was going to take something drastic to get you off of the Oakwood campus this summer, but letting myself get kidnapped wasn’t really the plan.”

“God, I hope not,” I say, and then I softly add, “New York City would have been better.”

“Yeah, it would have,” she quietly agrees.

“You almost had me talked into it,” I tell her.

“I knew it!” She laughs. “A couple more days and I would have prevailed.”

“For sure,” I whisper.

A tear rolls down her cheek—over a faded bruise. I reach out and gently wipe the wetness away, carefully so as not to hurt her. I start to tell Haven that I’m going back with her and Farren and that I’ll be staying in New York City, after all. But right as I open my mouth, Farren clears his throat.

He’s anxious to reunite with Haven, as well. I step away from Haven, and Farren’s eyes meet his sister’s. A lump rises in my throat. I’ve known all along that these two siblings love each other dearly, but Haven’s softened gaze and Farren’s smile show me just how tight their bond is.

Stepping forward, Farren engulfs his sister in a huge embrace, an embrace that is sweet and genuine.

Rick moves away from the doorway and, in doing so, steps backward into the house. He beckons for me to follow. Discreetly, so as not to disturb their moment, I slip past Farren and Haven, leaving them to their reunion.

In the spacious, high-ceilinged entry hall, Rick reaches over and gently closes the door. “Let’s give them some time to talk privately,” he says.

“Absolutely”—I nod—“sure.”

The safe house is very modern, with Spanish-influenced décor like exposed wooden ceiling beams, stucco walls, and wrought iron accents. The shades and tones are neutral, with pops of color here and there. The coordinating furnishings make me think the house was once a model home. I can’t imagine Rick or Farren decorating. And employing an outside person to do so would have been too risky.

I cross my arms across my chest, while Rick, looking as good and put together as the evening I met him, takes out his phone and types in a quick text.

He’s probably giving Mr. Barnes an update
, I think to myself.
Letting him know Farren is here
.

As Rick is slipping the phone back into the pocket of his dark slacks, Farren and Haven join us in the hall. With the initial blush of reunion fading away, I take a better look at Haven. She’s thinner than before she was abducted. In fact, she’s practically swimming in the black yoga pants and purple V-neck top she’s wearing. In addition to the fading bruise on her cheek, there are several more contusions running up and down her arms. Even more disturbing are two fading red hand marks on the sides of her neck.

I shudder, suddenly chilled, and not by the house’s superior air conditioning. I glance over at Farren to see how he’s taking all of this.

Uh, not good
, I note. His eyes burn fiery green as his gaze moves over Haven. He shakes his head slowly, his strong jaw clenching. I’ve learned this man well enough to know he wants to throttle the men—Eric and Vincent—who have caused this harm to his sister.

When a muscle in Farren’s jaw twitches, I move closer to him and place my hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. I want to show him that I’m here if he needs to lean on me.

Both Haven and Rick follow my movement. There’s no surprise in Rick’s expression, but there sure is surprise in Haven’s big aquamarine eyes. Eyeing me and Farren accusingly, she flat-out asks, “Are you two, like…together?”

Shit, I don’t know how to answer that question.

But Farren apparently does. “We are,” he says. Damn, from his tone there’s no mistaking that he doesn’t mean we’ve just been traveling together.

“Are you okay with that?” I quietly interject.

It matters to me what Haven thinks. I certainly don’t want her being misled into thinking I’m only here because I hooked up with her brother. True, Farren has made this journey bearable, fun at times even, but I’ve never lost sight of the fact that finding Haven was the sole reason we embarked on this journey.

I need not worry, though. Farren told me once before that his sister would be fine with what has developed between us, and, thankfully, he appears to be right.

Haven smiles at Farren, then at me. She says, “Of course I’m okay with my two favorite people finding love with each other.”

What
?
Love? Oh, shit
.

My cheeks flame.

Rick’s eyebrows go up.

And Farren clears his throat.

Sure, there’s something strong developing between me and Farren, but there’s been no mention of freaking love. Not on his part, that’s for certain. Haven’s a romantic at heart though—like me—so I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, I can’t bring myself to look at Farren. Not at this stage in the game.

Rick, thankfully, redirects the conversation away from the subject of love when he says loudly, “So, is anyone hungry?”

Rapid murmurs of assent follow, and he adds, “Good. I finished with dinner just a few minutes before you arrived. Haven and I were about to sit down at the dining-room table when we heard your car pulling up to the house.”

We make our way to the dining room, and Farren, Haven, and I sit down at the table. Rick excuses himself to the kitchen. I stifle a laugh at the thought of him as a chef. But, not ten minutes later, I come to the conclusion that though Rick Martinez may indeed be ex-Special Forces and a man not to be trifled with, he sure can cook. His homemade pork tamales, chicken enchiladas, and cheesy chili rellenos are to die for.

“Everything is so delicious,” I say between bites.

Rick is at Haven’s side. He’s leaning toward her, encouraging her to have seconds. He looks my way and says, “Thank you, Essa.”

“It is very good,” Farren, at the head of the table, chimes in.

When I glance over at him, I notice he’s intently observing the interaction between his friend and his sister.

Not noticing that she’s being watched, Haven smiles at Rick and accepts his offer of another helping. He places more food on her plate, his movements careful around her, and his brown eyes kind. Farren glances at me, and I raise a brow. He shrugs, and then continues eating.

Guess he’s fine with the prospect of something developing between Haven and Rick. Same as she was fine with us. The Shaws are like that. Once they accept you, you’re in. Rick must truly be someone who can be trusted. Otherwise, Farren would have him on his ass.

After dinner is finished and the plates are cleared, Haven yawns and says she’s tired. She stands and stretches, then says to me in a hopeful voice, “Come upstairs with me, Essa?”

I push back my chair. “Yes, of course,” I say, standing.

Farren, meanwhile, is preoccupied. He’s asking Rick if there’s anything to drink in the house. “Like something stronger than soda,” he says, nodding to his glass of cola.

“There’s aged Scotch in the den,” Rick offers.

Farren raises a brow. “Cigars, too?”

“The best,” Rick tells him. “Cuban, of course.”

“Perfect,” Farren says, leaning back and relaxing.

“You boys have fun,” Haven remarks lightly, her carefree tone reminding me of how she usually is. “We girls have some catching up to get to.” She grabs my arm and starts to pull me out of the room. “Isn’t that right, Essa?”

“Yep,” I reply as I allow her to tug me along. “We sure do.”

Farren, though, stops my progress when he snatches up my wrist. “Hold up,” he says.

Haven releases her hold on me and rolls her eyes. Farren ignores her. His thumb caresses where my pulse is picking up. “I’ll see you in bed?” he asks, raising a brow.

I nod. Apparently, I’ll be sleeping in the same room as Farren. Not that I expected anything different. Rick must have been in charge of setting the rooms up, surely at Farren’s bequest.

Farren adds, “Don’t be too late,” and Haven makes a gagging noise. I can’t help but laugh. It’s all in good fun. And it’s great to see Haven is still Haven.

As we make our way back out to the entry hall and to the stairs, she says, “I can’t believe you’re sleeping with my brother.”

“I thought you were okay with it,” I carefully remark.

“I am,” she says, slowing as we reach the base of a beautiful, curved staircase. She turns to me. “I’m not entirely surprised. I always knew you thought Farren was hot.”

“How’d you know that?” I inquire.

“Duh,” she says, snorting. “That time you were downloading pictures of him from my computer was a huge tip-off.”

“Oh, God.” I cover my face with my hands. “I still can’t believe you caught me doing that.”

“It’s okay, Essa.” She tugs at my hands, still covering my face, until I drop them. “I can see how it would happen. He is a nice-looking guy.”

I cough. “Uh, Haven, hate to break it to you, but Farren is
way
more than just nice-looking.”

She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Whatever.” After a thoughtful pause, she adds, “Some parts of you being with him are going to suck, though.”

“Oh.” I raise my brows, curious. “Why do you say that?”

“Well, I sure as hell won’t be asking you for any bedroom performance reports. That’s for sure.”

She grimaces, her face as beautiful as ever, and I laugh. “You mean you don’t want to know how big Farren’s c—”

She smacks my arm. “Ugh, God, no. Stop!”

But I don’t stop. I continue, undeterred since we’re both laughing. Well, particularly because Haven is laughing. She needs to laugh after what she’s endured.

So I say with a straight face, “Are you absolutely sure you don’t want to hear about the things Farren can do in bed? Let me tell you, that big dick of his is—”

She covers my mouth with her hand, but she is still cracking up.

“Seriously, Essa,” she says when she calms down, “that is just gross. Brothers do not have penises, okay?”

“What do they have?” I mumble, my words muffled by her hand.

“Nothing,” she says. She moves her hand from my mouth. “They have nothing. They just…are.”

“Again, I hate to break it to you, Hav, but brothers, even yours, absolutely do have dicks. In fact, some people’s brothers’ dicks are—”

I don’t get any further. Her hand is back on my mouth, muffling my words to gibberish. We’re caught up in fits of laughter again. All this silliness is a much-needed stress reliever for us both.

When Haven finally allows me to talk again—albeit with a stern “be good”—we head up to her bedroom.

Haven’s room is at the end of the hall, and as we pass the other bedrooms, she points out which one has been fixed up for me and Farren. She also makes a point to tell me which bedroom Rick sleeps in. She looks in a little longingly as we pass.

When we reach the room she’s been staying in, I say, “Is there a little something going on with you and Rick? He really is gorg, Haven. I wouldn’t blame you.”

Haven drops her gaze to the carpeted floor. “Rick is a really good guy, Essa,” she says slowly. “And he is super cute. That’s true.” She sighs. “But I’m not ready for anything, ah, physical just yet. Not with him or anyone else.”

“Oh my God, I am such an idiot.” I’m rapidly reminded of the events that have brought us here. “I’m so sorry, Haven.” I touch her arm, the bruises further reminders of what she’s been through. “I should know better than to ask something like that after all that’s happened to you.”