Page 63 of Waiting For A Girl Like You (Haven House #4)

Parker smashed her face into the back of Taylor’s seat, and Jamison’s vision swam with swirls and pops of color. The one good thing about the drugs was that they had left her slightly numb.

Yanking on her arm, Bruce locked her swaying body at his side. “That’s enough.”

“That’s enough,” Taylor parroted before returning her attention to Krystal. “And how is our favorite boy?”

Krystal glanced sideways at Taylor, her smile grotesque in the dashboard lights. “Sleeping.”

“A sleeping beauty, I bet. ”

“He really is,” Krystal replied with a sigh. “I’m serious, Taylor. I don’t know why you’ve been wasting your time going after that crusty old Ben Fairweather or his son when Damon’s prime piece of ass is ripe and ready to go. I have never seen a more gorgeous man.”

Taylor squealed. “Just think of all the beautiful babies we’re going to get from him.”

“And the fun we’re going to have making them,” Krystal added. “Now that we have Jamison, we can start. I called everyone to come home. Most were already on their way, but the others should arrive by morning.”

The two women high-fived, and Jamison opened her mouth to say something, but Bruce squeezed tight enough to knock the air from her lungs. “Nope. Keep that comment to yourself.”

Hitting a large hole in the road, the van’s tires bounced hard, and just when Jamison thought she was going to hurl all over Bruce’s shoes, the ground evened out.

She sat up straight, trying to see where they were going.

Thanks to the headlights, she could make out the large twelve-foot-high barbed wire fencing up ahead.

There were gates and guards, two men dressed in black with guns holstered at their waists.

“Hey, boys!” Taylor waved at the guards, who half-heartedly waved back. “I’m here for more than just a quick visit this time.”

The road's curves became sharper the further they traveled, the van climbing higher and higher until it plateaued onto a gravel drive. A thick forest encased their path, and on the final turn, the glimmer of light building in front of them gave way to an astonishing sight.

Haven House.

Jamison nearly fell off her seat, trying to get a clear view.

It wasn’t as big as Haven, but it stole her breath for a second when she thought they had brought her home.

The closer they came, the more she could see the differences.

A single gable instead of two. Four columns in front instead of eight.

The upper level’s porch didn’t appear to wrap all the way around, nor did the lower level’s porch.

There were no gardens. No oaks. No vast side yard one could run around in.

It was like a large home with hints of Haven House, making it a miniature version of the estate.

And it would seem that every light in the house had been left on.

Simone would’ve had a fit .

The windows were uncovered, allowing some of the interior to show, and the oddly whimsical lamp posts sitting off the front path revealed a group of people waiting.

At the forefront of the growing crowd, a man stood. Hands behind his back and head forward, Michael Sinclair watched their approach. The black pants and T-shirt he wore hugged every muscle like a second skin, and once they parked, he aimed his furious gaze at Taylor.

“Honey, I’m home,” Taylor sang, exiting the van. Michael didn’t move as she sashayed over to him, nor did he acknowledge the kiss pressed to his cheek when she passed. “Oh, lighten up, Mikey. I brought you someone to play with.”

Bruce kept a firm grip on her arm when he pulled Jamison from the van and over to Michael. She held his mismatched stare, and the defiance he must have seen had his jaw ticking.

Parker went ahead, chatting with Krystal as they walked around Michael, neither of them acknowledging the other. The crowd dispersed, following Taylor inside through the front door. Jamison wasn’t sure, but she thought she counted about eight people, mainly men of various ages.

Emmett Watson had been one of them. Standing in the open front door, he held Madison’s hand as the little girl cheered when she saw Parker.

“Who wants Daddy when I’m here?” Taylor lifted the girl into her arms. As far as Jamison could tell, Madison looked healthy and unharmed. “How have you been, my beautiful girl?”

With the crowd gone, Bruce stopped directly before Michael, holding her out to him. Breaking from her gaze for a second, he dipped his head toward the guards at the gate, signaling them to shut it.

“How?”

Michael’s question wasn’t for her, and she pressed her lips together. The drugs were clearing her brain finally, and if she had to pull the eyeballs out of every single one of these Zanmi freaks to get out of here, she would and take all the info she’d gathered with her.

“Parker got the call,” Bruce said. “Taylor pitched a fit that you were going after Kris, saying it was the perfect opportunity to snag Jamison. I told them I would tag along in case they needed help, since I stayed behind when we sent Emmett back here. ”

“How did you get here so fast?” Michael clarified as he looked her over from top to bottom, not missing anything. “Nice dress, by the way.”

“Plane,” Bruce answered. “Taylor called in a favor.”

“Tracked?”

“Don’t think so.”

Michael’s lips twitched with a smirk when he caught sight of the flip-flops peeking out from under the wedding gown. Jamison scrunched her toes, slightly embarrassed.

The move had Michael’s smirk turning into a grin. “If it belonged to Bryan, it wasn’t tracked.”

“It belonged to a friend of Bryan, from what I was told,” Bruce said. “You know Taylor. She ignores the details and just does shit, yet it somehow works out.”

The two women who had been with them the entire time slid past, pausing right beyond Michael to stare at the house. The dark-haired one laid a hand on his shoulder.

“Not for much longer,” Michael murmured to the woman and then addressed Bruce. “Casualties in the grab?”

“None.” Bruce shrugged. “Maybe. Her guard was a big son of a bitch and wouldn’t go down, so I had to juice him up pretty good.”

“Who was the guard?”

“New boy. Didn’t know him.”

“Carter.” Jamison supplied the answer in a small voice. “His name was Carter. It was his first day.”

“And probably his last,” Michael said as the noise inside kicked up a notch.

Taylor was speaking, and once or twice, a cheer or clapping could be heard.

“If not, then this Carter might deserve to be dead. Anyone stupid enough to stay around the Fairweathers for too long gets what’s coming to them. A smart person would run.”

Fighting the urge to stomp on his steel-toed boot, Jamison sneered instead. “Run, run, run as fast as you can. Isn’t that what you weirdos say all the time?”

“It’s a stupid phrase to latch on to, don’t you think?” The tiny hint of amusement over her attire disappeared from Michael’s eyes, replaced by a deep cynicism one would expect from a man like him. “Run, run, run as fast as you can. Do you know the origin of the phrase? Why Toby said it? ”

Of course she did. It was a trick question. Toby would chant the phrase when he hunted his victims. He admitted to using it in his initial confession, and Zanmi continued to taunt them with it throughout the years. Everyone knew this.

“The day your mother died.” Michael nodded at Bruce, who released his hold so she could stand on her own.

“On the morning of July 4, 1999, the kids—including you—played tag on the side lawn. Selah opened the game as he always did by shouting run, run, run as fast as you can . It was the last normal moment your family shared before the end.”

“Toby told you that?”

Michael shook his head slowly, a measured back-and-forth movement. “No, Toby didn’t tell me that.”

The dark-haired woman removed her hand from Michael’s shoulder and walked with her smaller counterpart toward the house.

Jamison gritted her teeth, annoyed that the double vision wouldn’t permit her to see their faces.

The hold the drugs had on her was wearing thin, but not enough where she could see those two.

Michael heaved out a sigh when the gates at her back were shut with a loud clang. “When’s the last time she had a dose?”

“Hospital. Evangeline Fairweather had her baby. A boy. Named it Albert or something. I took a peek at the thing before we went in for the grab. Cute kid. Lots of hair. A screamer.” From the corner of her eye, Jamison could see Bruce fiddling with a small pouch secured at his waist. “I thought Taylor would want us to snatch him, but I guess common sense took over finally.”

Michael snorted. “That woman has no common sense.”

When another syringe emerged from Bruce’s pouch, she tried to bolt, but Michael caught her easily.

Securing her against his chest, his strong arms wrapped around her like a vice.

“Don’t fight. This one won’t fully paralyze you,” he said calmly as Bruce speared her upper arm with the needle.

“Trust me. It’s better this way. Less trauma to digest when your head’s clear. ”

“Please, don’t. Please.” Unable to be brave any longer and realizing he was about to take her into the house, tears spilled down Jamison’s cheeks. “I can’t handle not being in control. ”

The sympathy on Michael’s handsome face dissolved into a look of disgust. “ You can’t handle not being in control? Imagine living your entire life that way.”

The darkness pulsed around them. The laughter and the lights from inside the house swirled before her eyes. The two obscure women stood on the porch now, looking around as if seeing the smaller version of Haven for the first time.

She slumped against Michael, the meds hitting their mark fast. “You chose to go into the military, so it’s your fault you allowed them to control your life.”

“How adorable. You still think this is about me.” Michael leaned down to whisper in her ear. “It’s not. Now be my good girl in there, and I’ll tell you everything.”

Selah had once said that insubordination was a key personality trait of hers, and as she stared up at the twinkling stars overhead, Jamison thought it was time to use what she once thought of as a stubborn defect to her advantage.

It was the only way she could mentally cope with this. “You mean you’ll tell me about CeCe.”

“No one called her CeCe except Toby and that psychotic whore of his.” Michael’s lips brushed her ear as he grinned. “Her name was Cecilia, and she was mine.”

“Yet, you’re helping them?” Jamison panted up at the sky, her head heavy on her neck. “The people who celebrate the man responsible for murdering her?”

A few Zanmi members stumbled out onto the porch. Loud and obnoxious, the men’s voices were slurred from drinking.

“Bruce, get inside. Move the girls into the room with Damon and put Mark on the door. Warn him not to let any of those fuckers in there.” Michael lifted his head to issue the order in a low voice. “Emmett already tried to get to Emily again tonight, and I arrived just in time.”

“Got it,” Bruce said, stuffing the used syringe back into his pouch. “Is Claudia still in the dog crate?”

“Yeah, but there’s no fight in her tonight,” Michael replied. “Well, there’s enough in case Taylor or one of those tweaked out Zanmi sisters tries to get to Damon. We can let her lose on them.”

The one thing we can rely on is Emily and Claudia protecting their brother.” Bruce paused. “What about Kris? ”

“Third room in the main hall.”

Jamison’s legs went out from under her as she listened, and Michael didn’t hesitate, swooping her up to carry like a bride. At the same time, Taylor marched outside, her heels banging loudly on the wood as she talked on the phone.

“It was just a plane!” she screeched. “Why are you so upset?”

Bruce moved on, carefully avoiding Taylor as he traveled up the steps and into the house.

“Wait, you’re where? No, I’m not in Florida.

I’m… um… north of Florida.” Taylor’s loud pacing halted, and terror filled her voice.

“Daddy… what? Ugh, fine. I’m near… Tulsa.

Huh? What do you mean tomorrow? No! I can’t meet you for brunch tomorrow.

Oh, you’re coming to Tulsa. Tonight. You’re coming to Tulsa tonight? ”

Jamison shivered in Michael’s arms when he nuzzled her neck in an almost playful manner. “Not a word out of you,” he whispered. “Understand?”

Taylor disconnected the call and let out a frustrated yowl, chucking the phone across the porch. “This cannot be happening! Why should I meet him, anyway? He reduced my fucking allowance, basically leaving me to die in poverty.”

“Tulsa is almost a three-hour drive.” Michael walked down the path, and Jamison turned her face into his chest, not wanting Taylor to see her crying. “Are you going tonight or first thing in the morning?”

Taylor didn’t answer, the click-clacking of her heels telling Jamison she was coming down the steps towards them. “Isn’t this cute? The dress. The house. The handsome groom. Too bad it’s the wrong bride.”

The grip on her body hardened, Michael’s fingers digging into her muscles. Jamison refused to squirm, knowing it was best if she didn’t draw Taylor’s attention.

“Don’t fuck with me tonight, Taylor,” Michael snapped.

“Oh, get over yourself. You’re enjoying this.

Fucking her as a fuck you to the Fairweathers?

It’s the perfect revenge.” Taylor released a huff.

“And I guess I’ll go early in the morning, but you have to promise not to have sex with her until I get back.

I want it to hurt and have some fun ways we can really make this bitch suffer. ”

“I can do that.” Michael adjusted his hold. “Besides, I need to take her upstairs for a family reunion. I know her cousins will be so happy to see her.”