Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(58)

“God, I hope not,” I say, and then I softly add, “New York City would have been better.”

“Yeah, it would have,” she quietly agrees.

“You almost had me talked into it,” I tell her.

“I knew it!” She laughs. “A couple more days and I would have prevailed.”

“For sure,” I whisper.

A tear rolls down her cheek—over a faded bruise. I reach out and gently wipe the wetness away, carefully so as not to hurt her. I start to tell Haven that I’m going back with her and Farren and that I’ll be staying in New York City, after all. But right as I open my mouth, Farren clears his throat.

He’s anxious to reunite with Haven, as well. I step away from Haven, and Farren’s eyes meet his sister’s. A lump rises in my throat. I’ve known all along that these two siblings love each other dearly, but Haven’s softened gaze and Farren’s smile show me just how tight their bond is.

Stepping forward, Farren engulfs his sister in a huge embrace, an embrace that is sweet and genuine.

Rick moves away from the doorway and, in doing so, steps backward into the house. He beckons for me to follow. Discreetly, so as not to disturb their moment, I slip past Farren and Haven, leaving them to their reunion.

In the spacious, high-ceilinged entry hall, Rick reaches over and gently closes the door. “Let’s give them some time to talk privately,” he says.

“Absolutely”—I nod—“sure.”

The safe house is very modern, with Spanish-influenced décor like exposed wooden ceiling beams, stucco walls, and wrought iron accents. The shades and tones are neutral, with pops of color here and there. The coordinating furnishings make me think the house was once a model home. I can’t imagine Rick or Farren decorating. And employing an outside person to do so would have been too risky.

I cross my arms across my chest, while Rick, looking as good and put together as the evening I met him, takes out his phone and types in a quick text.

He’s probably giving Mr. Barnes an update, I think to myself. Letting him know Farren is here.

As Rick is slipping the phone back into the pocket of his dark slacks, Farren and Haven join us in the hall. With the initial blush of reunion fading away, I take a better look at Haven. She’s thinner than before she was abducted. In fact, she’s practically swimming in the black yoga pants and purple V-neck top she’s wearing. In addition to the fading bruise on her cheek, there are several more contusions running up and down her arms. Even more disturbing are two fading red hand marks on the sides of her neck.

I shudder, suddenly chilled, and not by the house’s superior air conditioning. I glance over at Farren to see how he’s taking all of this.

Uh, not good, I note. His eyes burn fiery green as his gaze moves over Haven. He shakes his head slowly, his strong jaw clenching. I’ve learned this man well enough to know he wants to throttle the men—Eric and Vincent—who have caused this harm to his sister.

When a muscle in Farren’s jaw twitches, I move closer to him and place my hand on his arm in an attempt to calm him. I want to show him that I’m here if he needs to lean on me.

Both Haven and Rick follow my movement. There’s no surprise in Rick’s expression, but there sure is surprise in Haven’s big aquamarine eyes. Eyeing me and Farren accusingly, she flat-out asks, “Are you two, like…together?”

Shit, I don’t know how to answer that question.

But Farren apparently does. “We are,” he says. Damn, from his tone there’s no mistaking that he doesn’t mean we’ve just been traveling together.

“Are you okay with that?” I quietly interject.

It matters to me what Haven thinks. I certainly don’t want her being misled into thinking I’m only here because I hooked up with her brother. True, Farren has made this journey bearable, fun at times even, but I’ve never lost sight of the fact that finding Haven was the sole reason we embarked on this journey.

I need not worry, though. Farren told me once before that his sister would be fine with what has developed between us, and, thankfully, he appears to be right.

Haven smiles at Farren, then at me. She says, “Of course I’m okay with my two favorite people finding love with each other.”

What? Love? Oh, shit.

My cheeks flame.

Rick’s eyebrows go up.

And Farren clears his throat.

Sure, there’s something strong developing between me and Farren, but there’s been no mention of freaking love. Not on his part, that’s for certain. Haven’s a romantic at heart though—like me—so I shouldn’t be surprised. Still, I can’t bring myself to look at Farren. Not at this stage in the game.

Rick, thankfully, redirects the conversation away from the subject of love when he says loudly, “So, is anyone hungry?”

Rapid murmurs of assent follow, and he adds, “Good. I finished with dinner just a few minutes before you arrived. Haven and I were about to sit down at the dining-room table when we heard your car pulling up to the house.”

We make our way to the dining room, and Farren, Haven, and I sit down at the table. Rick excuses himself to the kitchen. I stifle a laugh at the thought of him as a chef. But, not ten minutes later, I come to the conclusion that though Rick Martinez may indeed be ex-Special Forces and a man not to be trifled with, he sure can cook. His homemade pork tamales, chicken enchiladas, and cheesy chili rellenos are to die for.