Inevitable Detour (Inevitability Book 1)(70)

There’s no need for such a low voice, though. Eric is busy greeting his friend and cohort. “Man, where have you been?” he says to Vincent, his tone betraying his agitation. “I asked Dawson if I could get you in on this”—he motions to us with a sick grin—“but he said you’d gone off the grid.”

“Yeah,” Vincent replies coolly, glancing nonchalantly at Haven and me, “a family matter arose. But everything is good now.”

Eric raises a blond eyebrow. “You sure?”

Vincent laughs and claps Eric on the back, the move both placating and somewhat condescending. Interesting. Here I’ve been, thinking all along that Eric is the man in charge. But it appears Vincent may outrank him in some way.

What way, though…?

As Vincent redirects his focus to a still-unconscious Rick, he asks Eric, “What happened there?”

Eric shrugs. “Ah, just some collateral damage, nothing to worry about. We’ll take him out later.” His icy blue eyes slide to Haven. “He was with my girl, Haven, out in the back. Bastard probably had his hands all over her. And though I like to share, I prefer to choose who gets to touch her.” He steps close and nudges Haven’s chin. “Isn’t that right, baby doll.”

Haven’s fingers are still wrapped around mine, and she’s squeezing so damn hard I have to grit my teeth to keep from making a sound. Her iron-tight grip is the only indication Haven is fazed. She schools her features so Eric doesn’t catch on that he’s affecting her so.

“Say yes,” he prompts, like he’s speaking to a three-year-old. In that moment, I hate him more than ever.

“Yes,” Haven replies compliantly.

Haven is wearing a V-neck top that exposes the swell of her breasts. Eric lowers his hand. He cups Haven’s breast. As he squeezes lightly, the cruel, hard look in his eyes betrays his true intent—his soft touch is a farce. And just then, as if to drive that point home, he raises his hand and backhands Haven across the face. Raven hair covers her cheek as her head whips to the side. Eric brushes it back, smiling when he sees there’s now a fresh welt on top of her faded bruise.

“Hey, hey…” Vincent moves quickly, grabbing Eric’s hand before he can strike Haven again. “Calm down.”

A strangled cry escapes Haven. A tear slides down her cheek. Eric has taken the first step to breaking her down again. And, if he’s to be believed, I am next. Farren will kill him for this. Eric may be waiting for Farren—and now Vincent is here to probably help him—but my money lies on the man I’ve fallen for: Farren Shaw.

Just as I’m thinking these thoughts, with my heart racing so fast I feel as if I may die, I hear footsteps upstairs.

We all hear the noise.

Eric suddenly forgets all about Haven. Vincent drops his hand from where he was preventing Eric from hitting her again. Everyone’s eyes lock in on the door at the top of the stairs as the doorknob begins to slowly turn.

Suddenly, all hell breaks loose, everything seemingly happening at once.

Eric pulls his gun from the back waistband of his pants.

The door at the top of the stairs swings open.

And Haven screams, “Farren, watch out! Eric is here, and he has a gun.”

Meanwhile, I struggle to make warning noises of my own.

And then my warning noises become actual screams, because Vincent, of all people, suddenly rips the duct tape from my mouth.

“What…” I utter as I spit out the cloth gagging me. I look up at Vincent, confused, and he gives me a small smile. But then his focus moves to Eric, who is already at the bottom step, gun at the ready.

He’s about to shoot Farren.

In an instant, Vincent presses his gun to Eric’s head. What is going on?

“Hold it right there,” Vincent says to Eric. “Drop your weapon.”





“What the hell is going on?” I ask in a loud voice. I have my voice back, and I sure as hell intend to use it.

But no one answers me.

Haven glances from me to where Vincent is pressing his gun harder to Eric’s temple.

“Do as I say,” Vincent urges, “or I will shoot you.”

Eric drops his weapon. It clatters to the cement floor. “What’s wrong with you?” Eric grinds out. “Get that f*cking gun away from my head.”

“I don’t think so,” Farren says as he calmly starts down the steps.

Wait, Farren is with Vincent? He said they didn’t work together.

Farren reaches the two men. He nods to Vincent in some kind of understanding. Then, he bends down and picks up the gun Eric dropped.

Okay, I guess there is some kind of working relationship there. Crazy.

Farren’s vibrant emerald-green eyes, eyes that I’ve missed so much, find mine. He smiles reassuringly, as if to let me know everything is going to be fine now that he’s here. I know it will, and I relax.

Farren’s smile falters, though, when he notices the swelling on my cheek. When his gaze moves to his sister and he sees she’s been struck recently as well, he moves swiftly. In a flash, Farren takes Eric out with one hit. Not with the gun in his hand, but with a solid hit using just his elbow.

There’s a loud snapping noise, and Eric drops to the ground. His hand shoots up to his nose as blood begins to flow. “You broke my nose,” Eric wails in a wet voice that makes him sound like he’s underwater.