He walks back, biceps bulging from the heaviness of the water he carries toward the fire. The wood hisses when he empties the water on top. The flames disappear, and smoke sways toward the sky.
“Do you need help?” I question him, wondering what I could really do, but I want to offer. I don’t like being so weak and useless. I need to recover. After that, I’ll be able to do more.
“No, you sit back and relax. I’ll get us packed up in no time. Okay?” he says, taking down the tent next at a professional speed.
He disappears behind a tree and a few seconds later comes back empty handed. No gun case, no whiskey, no tent. “Ready?” he asks as he claims the distance between us in three long strides and sweeps me into his arms effortlessly. “Jeez, you’re as light as a feather. We’ll change that. You’re safe now.” He begins the hike to this place called the Cliff House, whatever that is, and I lay my head against his chest.
We—he—walks in silence. It isn’t awkward, just peaceful. I’m staring at the beautiful tall Redwoods and see small birds and squirrels come out of hiding. I start to feel drowsy from the warmth radiating from his chest.
“So are you going to update me on what happened? I have a few miles to carry you, and I want to know why I killed a man,” he reminds me of the gunshot that rang out last night.
I open my eyes as he ducks under a branch, and for a moment I feel like he’s about to drop me.
“What’s the date?” I ask him, so I can figure out just how long I’ve been held captive.
“October 5, 2020,” he answers, and I shut my eyes to keep the emotion in.
“April 2, 2019. I was kidnapped. I don’t remember much of how I got to his cabin. I was very drowsy. He stripped me naked and chained me to the bed in a spare room. So it’s been a year and a half since I’ve been out in the real world.”
He stops walking, and his chest rises and falls with bursts of anger. “Did he … touch you?”
I lean against his pec and sigh, letting the tears roam free. “Yes. Over and over. Eventually, I think … I stopped fighting it. There was no point, you know? I believed I was going to die there. He’d starve me if I said no, beat me, keep water from me, all so I could be at his disposal. Eventually, I got pregnant,” I whimper and Owen doesn’t say anything, but he does pull me closer to him, as much as he can, almost like he’s doing his best to give me a hug. “I lost the baby. Too much stress, not enough food, but you know what? I’m so thankful I didn’t give birth in that house. Who knows what he would have done.” It sounds so empty and coldhearted, but sometimes truths hurt.
“I am so sorry that happened to you. I know what it’s like to lose a child.”
“You lost a child with someone you love. I lost a child with someone I hated and despised. I don’t know if you can compare the two.”
“You’re right,” he says. “No doubt you felt relief, even if the relief sounds fucked up. Whereas I felt anything but relieved.”
We lull into silence as he follows a well-worn path in the woods. Seems like he comes out here often if there’s a path worn.
“I’m glad I killed him. Asshole deserved to die for what he did to you. You don’t have to worry about that at the Cliff House. We protect. I promise you, you’re safe.”
So far, he has given me no reason not to believe him. “What are they like?”
He chuckles and shakes his head. The scruff of his beard rubs against the top of my head. “Well, that’s complicated to answer. I don’t know how to answer without scaring you. We’re a group of people, all criminals, but none of us are guilty. We consider ourselves a heist group. We’re criminals now, but we only steal from other criminals; does that make sense? We aren’t dangerous, at least, not to the people we care about.”
“You use your powers for good, kind of,” I try to joke, and he looks down at me, brows raised to his forehead as he nods. “Yeah, I guess you can say that, but we steal.”
“Yeah, from criminals,” I grumble, not really seeing where the issue is. “Do I need to be afraid of them? Are you warning me?”
“No, not at all. They are great guys. Jaxon is our leader, you could say. He’s married to Quinn, who is pregnant with twins. Then there is Sebastian, who is married to Gabriella. Greyson, who is married to Finley. There’s an age gap there, and you’ll notice it, but don’t say anything about it. Greyson is sensitive about it. There’s me, and there is Heaven.”
“And you? Are you or Heaven married?” I ask. I don’t know why I want to know, but something inside me is curious.
“No, I haven’t been with anyone in a very long time. Heaven is a bachelor. We only call him Heaven, but his name is Asher. You’ll understand when you see him. He’s the pretty boy of the group. He’s a flirt.”
“Sounds like a nice family,” I say, trying to remember something about mine. My life wasn’t butterflies and kittens, but more like guns with dead roses.
I’m not from a high-class family. My dad is a trucker, my mom is a waitress, and my brother is a drug dealer. I’m the only one who went to school to make something out of myself. I wanted to be an accountant. I love numbers.
But then I went late night grocery shopping, by myself, something I know better than to do. I had gotten paid and needed food. Another packet of ramen noodles were going to kill me, and on my way back to the car, darkness.
Seven
Jolie
I don’t remember much.