Page 111 of Lucky Haven

He yanks the knife back and shoves it against my jaw. “Why are you such a fucking bitch⁠—”

Cash slams into him, coming out of nowhere, and I scream as they go flying. Jeb lands with a thud, and Cash follows him down, his fists pummelling the other man, his voice harsh but clear. “You are going to regret this for the rest of your miserable life, you sack of shit. However short I decide it will be.”

“Cash, no!”

He wrestles Jeb onto his front, then puts his knee in the other man’s back and glares at me. “Are you hurt?”

“Scratches.” I lift my still bound wrists to my jaw. My hand comes away with drops of blood on it. “I’m okay. Please don’t kill him. It’s not worth it. You don’t want this on your conscience.”

He gives me a cold smile as he pulls zipties from his pocket and yanks Jeb’s hands together. “I’ll sleep just fine, Lucky.”

After he secures Jeb on the floor, he grabs the knife that went flying and comes over to me, carefully protecting my wrists with his finger as he saws the plastic with the blade, freeing me. “There you go,” he whispers before he quickly crushes his mouth to mine. “Can you walk?”

“Yes, I’m—my legs are fine.” I don’t know if I am. I don’t know if I ever will be again. But my body is, thankfully, in one piece and pretty functional.

“My truck is down the road. The keys are in the ignition. Run there as fast as you can, and stay there. The cops are going to show up soon, and I don’t want you here when they arrive.”

I reach for him, wanting to beg him not to do what he’s going to do, but he shakes his head.

“Go, Haven. Run.”

I run.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Cash

As soon as she’s out the door, I haul Jeb up and drag him into the kitchen. “What were you doing in here, huh? What were you looking for?”

He’s crying.

He doesn’t even try to talk back to me. He had Haven in this exact same situation and she kept responding, kept dragging him into a conversation.

She’s a hundred times braver than this wimp.

I slam him into the counter face first and hold him there, pressing down between his shoulders, as I yank open the first drawer beside him. Just some wooden spoons. Slam.

He sobs.

I shove him along the counter. The next drawer has cling wrap. I yank that out and slap it on the counter in front of his face. “This would suffocate a man nicely, wouldn’t it? Is that how you want to die?”

The stench of frightened piss is his only answer.

“Were you looking for a sharp knife? You wanted to carve her up, but you needed a big knife to do it, because that little steak knife would be too hard for you? Why aren’t there more murder knives here, huh?” I grab him by the scruff of his neck and haul him upright again, throwing him onto the other side of the sink. “Or maybe you couldn’t do it. You made a trap for yourself, and then you couldn’t go through with it. Is that it? That’s weak, man. I promise you, I don’t have that hesitation in me.”

The next drawer I try is where he got the steak knife. It’s got a lot of cutlery in it. I slam it shut again just for fun.

Then I curve over him. “I don’t need a knife to kill you, Jeb Martin. I won’t use cling wrap to steal your last breath. I have hands for a fucking reason.”

Chapter Forty

Haven

Guilt tears at me as I run down the gravel road, my shoes slipping, hair whipping around my face. But I can still feel that blade against my skin, and I can see Cash’s truck. My vision narrows in, hyper-focused on the safety that represents, that the red and blue lights don’t immediately register.

And then they cut out as a car approaches quickly, headlights sweeping over me.

Police.