Chapter 1
POV: Taylor
The remains of the cold coffee in my cupholder sloshed around, having failed to do its job when I bought it three hours earlier.
My eyes were hooded, I was tired, and I was rolling into the small Tennessee town at nine o'clock in the morning.
The address Ryan sent me looked to be well outside of town.
I wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing.
If we were alone, there would be no neighbors to tip off her boyfriend, but then again, if he showed up, there would be no witnesses.
I stretched my foot out and rolled my neck around.
"Almost there, Old Man," I mumbled to myself.
Rem would have normally taken this job, seeing that he didn't require as much sleep as I did, but now that he planned to ask Millie to marry him, I let it slide.
This was one last all-nighter for me.
Ryan could do it next time.
"In half a mile, turn left," my GPS said.
Nothing but trees sat on both sides of the deserted road. I was a car crash waiting to happen. The scenery and the soft hum of the radio playing in my truck were the only things that kept me from falling asleep.
Rubbing my eye with the heel of my palm, I chuckled. I was definitely getting old.
"Turn left now."
Turning, I pulled into a dirt driveway with a black mailbox, some symbol on it.
I didn't recognize the symbol, but didn't stop to figure it out.
The small white house at the end of the driveway sat far back from the road, which was an easy location to hurt someone.
It was secluded.
No neighbors.
Nowhere for her to run.
I parked to the left of the house and got out, my legs thanking me for the movement. Flowers hung from the railing of the porch, and a swing gently moved in the fall wind.
The house looked so normal from the outside.
But that was how they always looked.
It was a mask people wore to keep out the world. A mask they wore to stay in control.
My fingers curled into fists at my side. This was the hardest part, looking into the eyes of another beaten woman, trying not to imagine what she'd been through.
The screen door squeaked when I opened it, and I knocked on the wooden door with cracked white paint.
I listened for the sound of movement on the other side.
When it didn't come, fear traveled through me.
Was I too late? Had he gotten back last night, or did she get cold feet? It wouldn't be the first time.
Against my better judgment, I tried the handle, finding it open. The door swung inward, showing the remains of what looked like a fight.
I stepped in, my boots heavy on the floor. "Callie?" I called into the house.
At this point, I didn't care if he was there or not. I'd take him on to get her out of here.
Muddy footsteps traveled across the living room and down a short hallway to a door at the end.
I kicked the door open to an overturned bed and nightstand. Fear strangled my throat.
I kicked open the second bedroom door, finding nothing, and then the bathroom.
That's when I saw her.
She was bent over the sink, looking at herself in the mirror. She was nothing like I imagined.
Her ebony hair was braided down her thin shoulder, her dark eyes bruised and swollen, but she was the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen.
Even with her bruises and the cut on her upper lip.
It took me several seconds to get my words to form on my tongue. "You, Callie?"
"It would be ironic if I wasn't," she said, her voice smooth. She turned around, her slender body toned, and different from what I imagined. Most of the women didn't look like they could take on their attacker.
She did. She was feminine, but something about her was ... strong.
"How many women get beaten to a pulp by their boyfriend? Wouldn't it be ironic if you stumbled into the wrong house and she was getting beaten, too?"
I didn't return her smile; I stared, watching her force a smile. "Do you have a bag? We need to leave in case he comes back."
She nodded. "It's on the bed. I'll get it."
Callie attempted to move beside me, and I don't know what came over me, but I touched her upper arm, gaining her attention.
"He got you good," I said. "Are you OK? Do you need to go to the doctor?"
There was a sadness in Callie's eye that mimicked the other victims I'd seen since I joined Safe Haven.
Callie shook her head. "You should see the other guy."
At first, I thought she was joking. Some of the victims joked to keep themselves sane, but then I noticed her cracked knuckles.
She fought back.
"Good girl," I said, giving her a clipped nod.
Then I stalked toward her living room, finding her bag packed and ready on the living room table. It was the only thing in the room that hadn't been turned over.
Callie met me at the entrance, glancing over the room one last time, and she shut the door behind her. The wind brushed against me, and I picked up her flowery scent in the air.
It stirred something in my chest.
Once we were inside the truck, I started the engine and turned around to get back to the road.
"What's the symbol on the mailbox?"
"The motorcycle club he belongs to," she said.
Pulling onto the road, I took another look at it, memorizing the skull with the swords behind it.
It didn't look familiar, but I didn't memorize motorcycle club names in my downtown.
"What's your name?" she asked, interlacing her fingers in her lap.
"Taylor," I said. "You've been speaking to Ryan over the phone."
She nodded, her gaze out the window.
"When is he due back?" I asked.
"Tonight," she said. "He'll come looking. He's not the type to let me go easily."
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. "How long?"
"Five years," she said, her voice a whisper. "Five years too long."
Silence enveloped us, and I felt her regret from the other side of the cab. "I need to stop to get gas. Are you hungry? Coffee?"
"Black coffee would be great. I can pay you."
I waved her off. "I can handle a cup of coffee."
The small gas station had bars on its windows, two gas pumps, and a small garage attached to it.
I got out, ran my card, and put the pump into my gas tank before walking inside.
The elderly man behind the counter nodded at me. "Morning."
"Morning," I said, walking toward the coffee pot. They didn't have a fancy coffee maker like the other stores.
I shoved a handful of creamer and sugar into my pockets and walked over to pay for them.
"Traveling?" he asked.
"Something like that," I said, digging out my wallet.
"Well, don't blink, you'll miss it," he said, laughing at his own joke.
The bell on the door dinged, and two men walked inside behind me. They both wore black vests with a very familiar skull on the back.
"Howdy, boys," the man said, handing me my receipt. "Marcus back yet?" he asked.
"Nah, he's coming back tonight," the tall one said.
He had a nasty scar that ran through his eye. Strands of his dirty blonde hair covered most of his forehead, but I saw those dark eyes on me.
I turned my attention back to the coffee. "Thank you."
When I stepped outside, I didn't see Callie in the passenger seat of my truck. Fear trickled down my spine as I approached the truck, finding her hunkered down in the passenger seat.
I tossed the old coffee cup and replaced it with the new ones before putting the gas pump back up. "Did they see you?" I asked.
She shook her head. "I don't think so."
The door opened, and the two guys walked toward their parked motorcycles. "Stay down," I said, climbing into the truck.
She nodded, pressing her face against her knees as I pulled out of the gas station.
Several miles down the road, she climbed into her seat and wiped her eyes.
"Marcus?" I asked.
She turned to look at me and reached for her seatbelt. "How do you know his name?"
"The old guy mentioned him."
She grabbed her coffee cup. "The entire town knows one another, and the club gets away with murder because of it."
That was how small towns operated. They worked together to keep each other safe. It was wicked and intertwined.
"You're sure they didn't see you?"
She sipped her coffee. "I'm sure. That was Ian and Morgan. Ian's been his best friend since elementary school. He would do anything for Marcus."
"So he knows then?"
She scoffed. "Of course. They all know. They just don't care, and the ones that do aren't brave enough to go up against him. It's not their job to protect me."
"Whose job is it then?" I asked.
She looked over at me, dark chocolate eyes so intent that a shiver worked down to my toes. "My own."
We only stopped to get food before we reached Safe Haven. Callie was on the edge of her seat by the time we got there.
"This is it?" she asked.
"This is it."
"Do you live here?" she asked.
"I stay here to help, but I have my own house," I said, parking behind Rem's truck. "There are other women here, and some kids."
"I love kids," she said more to herself than me.
Getting out, I grabbed her bag and led her toward the back door.
As soon as I opened it, Karen flew at me, tossing her hands around my neck. "She said yes! Taylor, she said yes. Millie and Rem are getting married!"
I stumbled backward into the doorjamb, barely catching her. "Calm down, woman," I said. "You're going to scare our guest."
Karen moved back, reality hitting her. "Oh, Callie. I'm so sorry. Come inside."
Callie hesitantly walked into the kitchen with us, her gaze shifting over the room slowly.
"I'm Karen," she said, leading her toward the living room. "This is Millie, and the kids."
Millie stood up, walking over to introduce herself to Callie. "It's nice to meet you."
Stepping over, I squeezed between them and picked Millie up for a hug. "Congratulations."
When I put her down, she swatted at me. "You knew all along."
"Of course I did," I teased. "I can keep a secret."
Karen gave me the side eye. "I totally kept the secret, thank you."
"She did until the end," Millie said, smiling. "She was hiding out to see what I said."
"Karen," I said, exasperatedly. "What if she had said no?"
Karen folded her arms. "Like she would have said no to Rem. Come on, dude's a dream. You should take some lessons."
I laughed heavily. "Right. I won't be doing that."
Callie's gaze ping ponged between the three of us. "You're engaged?" she asked.
Millie nodded. "Yes."
"Congratulations. How exciting."
I noticed she wasn't wearing a ring; it was always better to get them out before the marriage. Marriage always made things harder.
"Thank you," Millie said, looking down at her watch. "Speaking of, I need to get to the house. Rem is grilling for us tonight. I'll see y'all in the morning."
"Where's Little Man?" I asked.
"Rem come got him early. They went fishing."
I scoffed and stumbled back with my hand on my heart. "That's a dagger to the chest. He'll never be as good as me. He should accept it."
Millie chuckled. "I'll make sure to tell him. Bye, guys."
The door shut behind her, and I grabbed Callie's bag. "Come on upstairs. I'll show you to your room."
She followed me up the stairs to the room that Millie used while she was here at Safe Haven.
"This is it. You have a bathroom over there. Karen is starting dinner soon. When you're settled in, you can come down."
I turned to leave, but Callie's voice stopped me. "Thank you, Taylor."
Meeting her dark gaze, I nodded. "Of course."
As I walked downstairs, I had an overwhelming feeling that Callie was different than the others.
Something in her eyes told me she'd been through much more than we thought. But that something had kept her alive.
It was the reason she fought back.
