Mastered by Malone (Haven, Texas 6)

She knew she needed to take back control or they’d start to argue and not listen to a word she said. “I just think we need a few house rules is all.”

“This ain’t your house,” West pointed out. “You don’t get to make any rules. You’re just the cook.”

She sucked in a breath. Pain stabbed at her. He wasn’t saying anything she didn’t know. She’d forgotten her place. They’d lulled her into thinking she was a part of them. But she wasn’t. She didn’t belong here. Or anywhere.

She pulled away from the table. “You’re right. Excuse me.” She knew it was cowardly to flee but she also didn’t want to burst into tears in front of them all. To her surprise, Jaret grabbed her arm, pulling her close to him.

“Apologize,” he insisted, glaring at West.

Oh, shit. She hadn’t meant to start an argument. Why hadn’t she just left things alone? Was it so bad that they got their muddy footprints everywhere and liked to yell at each other constantly?

“What?” West snapped.

“Apologize. She’s not just the fucking cook. She’s a friend. Apologize now.”

The rest of them had all stilled, looking back and forth between West and Jaret.

&nbs

p; She pressed a hand against Jaret’s chest. “It’s okay. I’m going to go lie down now. I have a headache.”

She moved out of the dining room without looking at anyone. She was such a fool. She’d overstepped her bounds. She was there to hide and cook and clean. Nothing more. This wasn’t her family.

She walked up the stairs, feeling a little numb as she got ready for bed. She left the bathroom light on before climbing into bed. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. No way would she be able to get to sleep as tense as she was. Not that she slept much anyway. And when she did manage to get off, she was usually woken by nightmares.

She closed her eyes. She had sedatives, but she was too scared to take them. Even here, where she felt safer than she had in a long time. She couldn’t be completely out of it if something happened.

Then again, that could be a mercy if the thing that was about to happen was her getting a bullet in her brain. An image of Angel flashed through her mind.

Okay, thinking about that wasn’t going to help her get to sleep.

Her aunt’s face flashed in front of her then. Angry and twisted. Fuck. Fuck. She rolled over. Tried to reach for some calm deep inside her as she took in another deep breath. She felt kind of stupid, but she whispered good night to different parts of her body, imagining them growing heavier.

Nighty-night foot.

Yep, total idiot.

But gradually, her body grew heavy and she slipped off to sleep.

The nightmare gripped her by the throat, stealing her breath. She sat up, her heart racing. Fighting for each breath. Her pulse raced. Her whole body shook.

She glanced around frantically, staring into the shadows of the room. Searching for something. Anything.

No one was there.

No one had come to kill her. She was on her own. She curled her legs up to her chest, rested her forehead on her knees and concentrated on calming her breathing.

I’m safe. No one is here. I’m safe.

As her heart rate dropped and her breathing came easier, she uncurled herself, and climbed slowly out of bed. She whipped off her T-shirt, which was damp with sweat. She threw it into the bathroom to wash tomorrow. Then she pulled on another one. She grabbed the lamp, turning it on. Soon after she’d arrived, she’d found an extension cord in the storage room and claimed it so she could have the lamp in wardrobe with her.

She walked to the wardrobe, opening the door and setting the lamp down at one end. She’d also found some spare blankets and a pillow, which she’d used to set up a second bed. She climbed in and closed the doors of the wardrobe behind her, wrapping herself up in the blankets.

She knew it was weird. She didn’t get why this made her feel safer. It certainly wasn’t that comfortable. The floor was hard. The wardrobe wasn’t going to give her any protection against a bullet. But when she slept in here, the nightmares stayed away.

So she snuggled down, trying to tell herself that one day this would all be over. She’d be better.

One day.