Page 5 of Finding Haven (Haven #2)

Zack

The woman sitting beside me at the bar is an anomaly.

I expected her to be upset when she emerged from the restroom and discovered the man she had been with was gone.

Since she sat down, I haven’t sensed even the slightest bit of anger.

She seems far more alive now than she did when she had been stuck with that asshole, and there’s an energy radiating off of her that makes me want to shift closer, to keep her talking so that I can absorb some of it.

The man, Jeremy Morris, is officially on my radar.

I’ll be looking into him as soon as I make it home tonight.

I didn’t give him a chance to explain himself, and quite frankly, I don’t give a shit what he had to say.

No excuse he came up with would have warranted him attempting to drug his date.

And I have no doubt that’s exactly what he was planning on doing, especially after Myles, the bartender, confirmed that the guy had been pressuring this woman to order a drink.

I’m assuming she felt the vibe was off with him, given she had no problem ordering a drink as soon as she sat down at the bar.

She doesn’t seem to be the shy type like I’d thought she would be.

She wasn’t deterred by my short responses either.

If anything, they seemed to only spur her on more.

I gave her a brief description of what I do for a living, and she dove into a five minute tangent about the different jobs she’s had and how she gets bored if she’s stuck doing the same thing for too long.

Her response was endearing, and that’s not a feeling I need to deal with right now.

I don’t have the time or the desire to get involved with anyone.

My heart was darkened a long time ago and I’m not even sure the fucking thing still works.

This woman intrigues me because she’s unlike anyone I’ve ever met before, and that’s all.

That’s where my interest ends. It has to.

Silence stretches between us as she sips her drink, and I realize it’s my turn to say something. It’s been a long time since I’ve sat and had a conversation with someone just for the hell of it. I’m admittedly a bit rusty.

“It sounds like you’ve figured out what you’re passionate about.

You should pursue that.” Here I go again with the clipped responses.

Why does it feel like I’m being asked to do the impossible when all I’m trying to do is talk to this woman who seems to shine far too bright for the dark world around us?

“Life is too short to waste time not doing what you love.” It’s the best answer I can muster.

I wish I’d been told the same thing when I was younger.

When I joined the Hartridge Police Department, I was sure I’d found what I wanted to do for the rest of my life.

I’d only ever seen the job from the outside, but my father and grandfather both seemed content with their careers.

I assumed that meant I would be as well.

I didn’t expect the days to be so heavy, or to carry the burden of every call gone wrong for the rest of my life.

I sure as fuck didn’t expect to lose my best friend in a tragic accident while he tried to save the life of a man who didn’t want to be saved .

“You sound like you’re speaking from experience.

” I glance at her as her sweet voice pulls me from my wandering thoughts.

Her body is turned toward me, her curves on display thanks to the jeans hugging her legs and the top that dips low enough to show off a hint of cleavage.

My cock thickens at the idea of seeing what’s beneath the layers of clothing.

I have no idea how old this woman is, other than she’s of legal drinking age.

It almost feels crude to be picturing her in that way after the night she’s had.

“You could say that.” Something about this woman has me wanting to divulge all of my secrets and let my demons out, but the shit I’ve been through isn’t a conversation to be had with a stranger. The weight doesn’t belong on anyone’s shoulders but mine.

Three loud beeps chime in succession, pulling her attention away as she reaches for her phone.

She mutters a curse under her breath as she swipes away some kind of alert from her screen.

It’s none of my business what she’s got going on.

I turn away and signal for Myles’s attention.

The least I can do is pay for this woman’s drink after I all but forced her date off the premises.

She moves to stand and begins to pull out her wallet.

I cover her hand with mine before she can get it out of her purse.

Electricity crackles across my skin at the contact.

“It’s on me,” I tell her, trying to force my voice to come out a little softer than the harsh, clipped tone it typically emanates.

Her eyes fall to my hand on hers and then move to meet mine.

“Thank you,” she says. Her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of pink as she releases her wallet and gifts me with that sun-rivaling smile I’d glimpsed earlier.

“It was really nice talking to you, um…” She pauses for a moment, her nose scrunching at the bridge.

I bite the inside of my cheek to fight ba ck the smile threatening to spread across my face.

“I just realized I don’t even know your name. ”

“It’s Zack.” And there I go again with the clipped responses.

Guess the whole conversation ability was short-lived.

I can’t recall the last time I put effort into having a conversation with a woman.

On the rare nights when I’m in need of company, putting on the charm and flirting just enough to get a woman to join me in a room upstairs doesn’t require much.

But something about this woman in particular has my mind in a disoriented mess.

“Well, Zack, I hope you enjoy the rest of your night.” She’s walking away from me before I have a chance to ask for her name.

I make sure to tell Myles to add her drink to my account and leave him a generous tip for the part he played in ensuring her safety.

As I’m standing to leave, my attention catches on a slim strip of plastic on the bartop in front of where she was sitting.

It’s been a few years since I’ve put any of my first-responder training to work, but I immediately recognize the clean piece of plastic for what it is: a blood glucose testing strip.

Jeremy Morris is a lucky man. He doesn’t have any kind of police record and doesn’t seem to have too much of an online presence.

He has fewer than a hundred followers on each of his social media platforms, most of which are set to private.

None of that matters, though. He may not be on the Phoenix Legion’s watch list, but he’s sure as fuck on mine.

The guy was stupid enough to attempt drugging someone in a well-lit public place.

I’d be willing to bet it won’t be long before he makes another careless mistake.

After the way their date was going, and the way I ended it, I doubt he will be reaching out to the woman I met at the bar. With any luck, they don’t know each other outside of whatever that was tonight.

As soon as I finished compiling everything I found on Jeremy into a file, saved it to my computer, and backed it up to my external hard drive to be safe, my mind immediately drifted back to the woman from the bar.

She was fucking beautiful, but that’s not what my mind is stuck on.

Our conversation has been playing on a loop in my mind.

I’m not sure what about her has me so enamored.

Aside from those I work with at the hotel, most people steer clear of me.

Given my past and the people I’ve lost, it’s never bothered me much.

The last thing I need is to form a connection with someone new, only for them to turn out to be an entirely different person once they get what they want from me.

Yet this woman, who had already been dealt a shit hand for the night, didn’t hesitate to strike up a conversation with me. She wasn’t deterred by my short responses or inability to hold eye contact with her for long. Those things only seemed to encourage her.

I can’t believe I let her walk away without knowing her name. With that honey blonde hair, gray eyes rimmed in dark blue, and those fucking mouth-watering curves, I’d bet her name is just as beautiful.

Trying to push thoughts of her from my mind, I make quick work of showering and throwing on a pair of lightweight gray joggers before getting comfortable on my living room couch, laptop in hand.

Tonight’s conversation has me craving human connection.

The safest way to do that without having to get to know someone on a personal level is through one of the many adult entertainment sites available.

Despite the many options available, I find myself consistently turning to Frisk.

The site is built to resemble any other social media app and allows for live streams as well as photo and video uploads, all controlled by the creators themselves.

Premium content can be made available to subscribers only or on a pay-to-play basis.

It takes some scrolling through various livestreams and videos to find what I’m looking for.

I pause, my breath catching in my throat when a photo of a masked curvy blonde with the username SugarQueen fills my screen.

The familiarity of her has the dead thing in my chest threatening to lurch to life, but the lace mask she’s wearing is preventing my brain from fully making the connection.

She’s everything and nothing like the woman I met earlier.