“No I didn’t, Ellie. But before you see my brother or anyone else, there are a few things you should know.
“One, your car was spotted by your ex-husband maybe fifteen minutes after you walked through the gates. Denny knows you’re here.”
“What?” she screeched. He might as well have painted her face white. She was as pale as the walls.
“This isn’t anything to be alarmed about. The men in surrounding communities often check here first. We want them to find the cars parked in our lots for a reason. They need to know they’ve reached the end of the line.
“Now with that said, you need to realize we’re interested in saving the women who come to us, but we’ve tried to help some of them through the justice system and have little success in courts. You’ll find the legal system is often a forum that abusers use to their advantage.
“Prior to setting up Trouble’s bylaws, we interviewed convicts serving time for domestic violence crimes. Many of them explained they would actually count down the days to their court dates, look forward to them more than anything else. They use the court system to intimidate their former lovers and spouses. It’s often the one chance they have to look them eye-to-eye and sometimes it’s the only opportunity they have to later have them tailed and followed to their new homes.
“We won’t fight in court because we can’t win. An order of protection means nothing at all. It doesn’t protect anyone. It only aggravates the abuser and typically provokes him. That’s the opinion of the vast majority of Trouble’s founding fathers, but that doesn’t mean we’re right. If you feel you must fight your ex for whatever freedoms you feel you’re entitled to, then this isn’t the place for you.
“We don’t care about winning in court. We care about saving lives and protecting those who are unable to protect themselves.
“Our goal is to save one woman at a time. If you have women friends on the outside who are faced with similar problems at home, maybe one day you’ll reach out to them and tell them about your experiences here. In the meantime, let us fix things for you. Let us protect you. Let us handle your problems on the outside.”
“His own mother and father couldn’t even handle him. You won’t be able to handle Denny either.”
“I wouldn’t bet on that. The men here aren’t afraid of much. Denny will be dealt with appropriately,” Draegan promised. “And if he cherishes his life, he’ll let you live yours.”
Chapter Three
Processing sucked. The waiting, the worrying, all of it just plain sucked.
Allister paced the dormitory hallway wondering why he’d ever voted for building this godforsaken place. Most of the women there needed reassurance. They needed protection. They wanted love.
They didn’t need their own damn private room in a dormitory for women-only.
“Down this way.” Draegan’s voice filled the corridor. “You’re in room one fifteen. Did you leave your phone in your personal belongings?”
“Yes,” Ellie said, probably lying.
“Do you have a spare?”
“No. Why would I have an extra phone? I didn’t know I was entering a lockdown facility.”
“Let me be clear, Ellie. We have two thousand acres here and every inch of this place is under surveillance. Our fences are protected by more than barbed wire at the top. We have armed guards to keep people out, not in. If you decide you want to go, you can walk out anytime, but the most important rule here is one you need to remember—if you leave, you can’t come back.
“With that said, we give our new residents their own phones. Our tech guys monitor them to ensure you’re not traced. On the chance you are, our guys can let us know and they can usually tell where the trace originated.”
Allister pressed his head against the wall, wishing his brother would get the hell out of there. When he was in charge, it was like passing down a political title. He reveled in his perceived power.
And it was grating on Allister’s doggone nerves.
“Do you have any questions?”
“What am I supposed to do all day?”
“Have you been working?”
“Yes,” she quickly replied. “I work at the coffee and gift shop down on Market.”
“You once worked at the coffee and gift shop,” Draegan corrected her.
“Right,” she muttered.
“Trouble has an internet café and we also have an art gallery and gift shop. I’ll see if they need any help at either place.”