Chapter Three

 

Savannah stared at the front door. It loomed in front of her. Dark and uninviting. She took a step forward. Blackness narrowed her vision and she swallowed back her nausea.

This was ridiculous!

She forced herself to move closer. Stop being a wimp. All she had to do was take one step outside. Just one. It wasn’t that hard. She’d walked in and out of this house thousands of times. But now it was like there was an invisible barrier she couldn’t cross.

With a trembling hand, she unlocked the door.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Idiot. Nothing bad was going to happen to her just because the door was unlocked.

“You can do this, Savannah. You are not going to spend the rest of your life stuck in this house. Now, get a grip.”

All she needed was some tough love. And maybe some medication—lots of medication.

Savannah opened the door, her breath leaving her lungs. She forced herself to hold the door open when all she wanted to do was slam it shut, lock it, and race to her bed where she could hide.

I’ve been hiding for weeks. No more.

Did something move in the bushes? Oh God, was someone there? They could be watching her . . . ready to take her.

Her throat constricted, making her gasp for air. Her head spun. The edges of her vision blurred and grew darker.

Knowing she was about to pass out, Savannah quickly shut the door, twisting the lock with fingers that shook. Bile gathered in her mouth. She raced into the kitchen, barely making it to the sink before vomiting. She sobbed with each violent heave. There was little in her stomach except for coffee and water, and it tasted terrible coming back up.

Finally, she sank to the floor. She drew her legs up against her chest and rested her forehead on her knees.

Shivers raced over her clammy skin.

“Damn it. Just damn it,” she muttered. She leaned her head back against the kitchen cabinet behind her.

She was going insane. She had to be, right? A sane person wouldn’t be a prisoner in their own home. A sane person wouldn’t have a panic attack just from trying to step outside.

“You need to toughen up. You need to be the wife they deserve.”

She wanted things to go back to the way they were. To have Max tease her. To see Logan watch her with that dark heat in his gaze.

She pulled herself up, wincing as her muscles protested. After cleaning up the mess in the sink, she shuffled out of the kitchen, glancing up the stairs. She hadn’t slept upstairs since she’d come home. At first, it was because walking up and down the stairs with her injuries was painful. Even being carried around had hurt, so she’d been sleeping in the downstairs bedroom.

Max and Logan had taken turns sleeping on the floor of her bedroom. Not wanting to leave her on her own but not wanting to risk hurting her by sleeping in the bed with her.

Each night she lay in her bed, trying desperately to stay awake, knowing the nightmares would visit her. She drank so much coffee, she felt sick and jittery. But nothing could erase her memory.

Once she’d healed, she’d expected them to move her back into their bedroom upstairs. But everything had stayed the same. She still slept alone in that big bed with one of them on the floor, while the other one slept upstairs.

Maybe they didn’t want to sleep with her. She wrapped her arms around herself.

Tainted. She was tainted. Stanton had done more than just beat and whip her. He’d placed his hands on her. The bile rose and she took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her bubbling stomach.

Walking into her new bedroom, she glanced around at all her stuff. Her men had moved everything in here. Her dresser, her mirror, and all her clothes.

She stood in front of the full-length mirror. She pushed her scraggly, blonde hair back from her face. She needed a haircut. The skin beneath her eyes was dark.

She was wearing one of Logan’s old sweaters. It swamped her, coming down past her knees. Had she even showered today? She couldn’t remember. The quiet house was wearing on her nerves. Logan and Max had been taking turns sticking close to home, but she knew how busy the ranch was, and they couldn’t afford to take time off.

After a bit of an argument, she’d managed to convince Max, whose turn it had been to watch her today, to go help Logan mend the fences.

She stared at her room. It felt like a stranger lived here. Her bedroom was upstairs with the huge four-poster bed, where the smell of motor oil and horses and men’s cologne dominated. Where she could hardly take a step without tripping up over Max’s cowboy boots or slipping on one of Logan’s shirts.

Savannah sighed and sat. She knew she needed to tell them about this, it wasn’t like she could hide her inability to walk outside forever. She hated that she felt nervous talking to her own husbands. They’d promised to love and cherish her no matter what.

And she’d promised the same. As well as to obey them. She blushed a little as she remembered their insistence that that part be left in her vows. They could be total Neanderthals at times.

But they were all hers, and she didn’t want to lose them.

 She didn’t like feeling so needy and insecure. This wasn’t her. She wasn’t her mother. What husband was her mother on? Five or six? It didn’t really matter. In the end, they all left once they found out the truth: That the money wasn’t worth putting up with her batshit crazy mother.

 Momma fell in love hard and fast. And they fell out of love with her just as hard and fast.

Her mother had nearly had a heart attack when she’d told her she was marrying two men. Although Savannah wasn’t sure if she’d been more shocked by the fact that there were two of them or that they were ranchers.

Her mother said ranchers like it was a dirty word. It wouldn’t have been so bad if they’d been rich. But two struggling ranchers . . . If her mother had lived in the eighteenth century, she’d have been calling for her smelling salts. Luckily for Savannah, her mother had soon latched onto husband number six—she thought it was six—and forgotten about her daughter.

Savannah preferred it that way.

She hadn’t even called to check on Savannah after the attack. Max had called her and left a message explaining what had happened. And she hadn’t been able to tear herself away from her new husband in order to pick up the phone and see how Savannah was doing.

Savannah was a grave disappointment to her mother. She knew her mother told people she was overseas. Hell, she could tell them she was living on Mars and doing it with two-headed aliens for all Savannah cared. She had no plans to go back to that life.

Although it seemed she wasn’t really living this life either.

She hadn’t told her mother the rest of it. About the community she now lived in. The way the male residents of Haven took it upon themselves to protect all the women and children. That their safety was taken very seriously, and God forbid any woman put herself in danger. She’d find herself over her man’s knee, and if she didn’t have one, the sheriff was within his rights to assign a guardian to watch over her.

Savannah had been spanked plenty of times. She had a penchant for getting into trouble, and truthfully, she kind of liked it when her guys went all caveman on her. The sex afterwards was amazing.

But they hadn’t once threatened to spank her since she’d been taken. No, they’d been treating her like fragile glass, as though she might shatter with a wrong touch or word.

She knew they’d been scared. Even Logan, who so rarely showed how he felt, had had tears in his eyes when she’d woken up in the hospital. It was going to take them all time to recover.

The phone ringing from the office made her rush out. She quickly grabbed it before it stopped.

“Hello?” she said.

Nothing on the other end.

“Hello? Grandma Evie, is that you?”

Nothing.

“Hello? Can you hear me?”

Heavy breathing. Fear held her paralyzed for a few moments. Was it him? Was he calling her?

“F-fuck you!” she screamed then ended the call. She stumbled back, staring at the phone as though she expected it to grow fangs and bite her.

What should she do? What if it was him?

Protect herself. She needed to protect herself.

The guns.

Max had shown her where the key to the gun cabinet was kept when she’d first moved in. She’d just laughed at him and told him she’d never touched a gun and she didn’t intend to.

Logan had wanted to show her how to shoot. She’d asked why she’d need a gun when she had two strong men to protect her.

You were such a naïve idiot, Savannah.

She’d had no idea danger could strike just like that and turn her pretty little world into one of pain and fear.

She searched around for the key, pulling things from the drawer and dumping them on the floor. Finally, she found the key taped to the bottom drawer. She pulled it out with a triumphant cry. Then stared at it.

What was she doing? She didn’t know how to use a gun. She had no idea how to load it or tell if the safety was on. She’d probably shoot herself in the foot, or worse, shoot one of her men.

She sat back in Max’s chair with a groan. “Savannah, you have got to do better than this.”

It had probably just been kids prank calling. Stanton was in jail awaiting trial. He wouldn’t be calling her just to fuck with her mind.

But maybe she should have taken Logan up on his offer. Maybe if she knew how to shoot, she’d feel safer.

With a sigh, she slipped off the chair onto her hands and knees on the floor and started to tidy up the mess she’d made. With a frown, she stared at the power bill in her hand. Overdue.

She looked at another bill. Overdue. Pay immediately.

Okay, she knew things were tight, but she hadn’t realized they were so far behind in their bills. It was a wonder they hadn’t shut off their utilities.

Savannah rubbed her forehead.

Why hadn’t they told her about this? Why hadn’t they told her things had gotten so bad?

She didn’t really involve herself in the day-to-day stuff on the ranch. It wasn’t that she wasn’t interested . . . okay, she wasn’t really interested. Did that make her a terrible person?

She loved living here. She loved the wide-open spaces. The beautiful countryside. The sound of the horses talking to each other in the barn, of her men laughing together after a hard days’ work. But she didn’t help out much. Didn’t get out there and muck out the stalls or do whatever else needed doing.

Maybe that needed to change.

She couldn’t do this on her own. She needed her men. She needed to know that they loved her, wanted her, that they still saw her as their wife.

And not a victim.

***

Logan stormed over to the truck as Max parked and climbed out. “What are you doing here? Where’s Savi?”

“At home,” Max said tiredly.

“You just left her?”

“She said she needed time alone.”

“And you listened to her?”

Logan felt nearly frantic with worry over Savannah. Helplessness filled him every time he looked at her. He wasn’t used to that feeling. If there was a problem, he fixed it. Simple. But he couldn’t fix this problem. And Max, who always knew what to do, was shutting him out.

 “What did you expect me to do?” Max snapped. “Tell her no because we don’t want to leave her alone?”

“What’s wrong with saying that?” He didn’t want her to be alone. What if something happened to her? He couldn’t go through that again. And he knew Max felt the same. It was rare that Max ever lost his control, but the night they’d rescued Savi, Duncan and Jake had to pull his brother off Stanton. Not that Logan felt any sorrow about that. Bastard deserved everything he got. But Savi didn’t deserve to suffer any more, and if Max had killed that asshole and gone to jail, that’s what would have happened.

“She’s not strong enough to be on her own.”

Max gave him a sharp look. “I think we’ve been doing this all wrong.”

“Doing what all wrong?” Logan looked at him, bewildered.

“We’ve been treating her like she’s fragile. Like she could break at any time.”

“Have you seen her lately?” Logan shot back. “She is fragile. She’s skin and bone. She’s not sleeping. She startles at the slightest sound. She was kidnapped and attacked, Max. What do you suggest we do? Tell her to toughen the fuck up?”

“Of course not,” Max snarled back. “Do you think I’m some kind of monster? But maybe she needs some space from us. One of us has always been close by since the attack; we’ve been too scared to let her be on her own. But Stanton is locked away. She’s safe. Maybe if we act as though nothing is wrong then everything will go back to the way it was.”

What the fuck?

Yeah, things had to change. But backing off wasn’t going to help.

“Where did you get that bullshit from? The back of a box of cornflakes?”

Logan drew his gloves off. He’d been mending fences all day. He was hot, he was thirsty, and he was tired as hell. Worries about the ranch and Savannah were keeping him up at night, and his temper was short.

He knew Max was in the same boat. They either slept on the floor beside Savannah, which was uncomfortable as hell, or alone in the bed they used to share with her. Either way, it sucked.

To be so close to her yet not touch her. Would they ever be what they once were?

Logan was damned determined they would.

“Well, what do you want to do? Smother her to death? Keep her locked up in a glass box and just bring her out when you’ve got a hard-on?”

Logan stormed up to Max, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. “You think all I care about is sex? She’s my wife.”

“She’s my wife too. She’s hurting, and I don’t know what the fuck to do about it. So why don’t you come up with something, huh?” Max shoved him back.

Logan snarled. “You don’t want to do that right now.”

“Yeah? What ya gonna do about it?”

“This.” Logan pulled back his arm and let his fist fly.

 

Colin Richards parked his truck next to Logan’s behemoth of a truck and watched Max and Logan fight.

Logan tackled Max to the ground.

“Ouch,” Trace said from beside him. “I wouldn’t want Logan landing on me.”

“Don’t underestimate Max. He’s tough and he’s a sneaky fighter.”

The men rolled, each getting in some punches.

“Think it’s time to break things up?” Trace asked.

Colin snorted. “I’m not getting in between the two of them when they’re fighting. Tried it once when I was thirfteen, and I ended up with a broken nose for my troubles. Of course, it did stop the fight. But Lila likes my nose how it is.”

Trace rolled his eyes and stepped out of the truck.

“You guys gonna keep it up for much longer?” he yelled out.

They ignored him, and Max, who was on top at this stage, smacked his fist into Logan’s nose. Colin winced. He knew how that felt. Max had given him that broken nose years ago. People always saw Logan as the threat due to his size and his less-than-friendly personality. But Max was fast, and he was strong. Colin didn’t know which branch of the armed forces he’d been in, that was all hush-hush, but no doubt it had been dangerous as hell.

He was just glad both Max and Logan had returned home and bought this place. It had surprised him when they’d started to date Savannah, but as it turned out, she suited them perfectly. She kept Logan from completely retreating into himself and becoming a hermit. And she’d made Max smile again. Not that fake smile he’d had when he’d first come home. But a real smile.

Colin’s own smile faded. He knew that Savannah wasn’t doing well. Lila was really worried about her. She didn’t leave the house, she was a shell of her former self, withdrawn and frightened.

Not that he could blame her.

He climbed out of the truck and came to stand by Trace. His brother sighed. “They’re ignoring me. Looks like I’m going to get my nose smashed in. Think I’ll get any sympathy from Lila?”

Trace, Colin along with their friend, Gavin all shared a wife. Lila was everything to them. The center of their world and Colin thanked God every day that she was in their life.

“Unlikely.” Colin grabbed his arm and raised his voice. “We’ve got beer.”

The two men paused then rolled apart.

“Well, why the fuck didn’t you say so?” Max snarled, standing and walking over to their truck to grab a beer from the cooler in the back.

Logan just lay on his back, panting heavily. Colin moved forward and stood over him with a grin. “Getting a bit slow there, old man?”

Logan opened his eyes and glared up at him. “I’m only three months older than you, pipsqueak.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t let myself go to fat. Better watch out or Savannah will find herself a newer model.”

As soon as he said the words he wished he could take them back. Trace glared over at him. Yeah, he got it. Sometimes his jokes just weren’t that funny.

“Logan, man, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t—”

Logan stood and stormed off to the truck to grab a beer.

“Don’t worry about it,” Max said, coming over and handing him a cold beer. “We’re both a bit sensitive at the moment.”

“Wouldn’t blame her if she did,” Logan growled as he came back. “She could do better.”

“Want to tell us what’s going on?” Colin asked.

“Nope.” Max’s right eye was mostly closed by now and he was walking with a slight limp. Not that Logan was any better off. Blood was dripping from his nose. It was already swelling, and he had another bruise forming on his jaw.

“How’s Savannah doing?”

“Not great,” Max replied. “Nothing we do is getting through to her.”

“It’s only been five weeks,” Trace said mildly. “Lila’s asked her out a few times, but she always refuses. Both she and Laken have suggested going for a manicure, back to our place, or to the movies, but I guess she’s not ready to leave the safety of home yet.”

Max paused then looked over at Logan. “Have you seen her leave the house at all?”

Logan frowned. Then shrugged. “No, but what of it? Not like she’s that interested in the ranch, and she probably doesn’t want to go anywhere on her own yet.”

“No, but she used to love to read on the porch. She hasn’t been out there once that I’ve seen.”

“It will take her a while to feel safe again,” Trace commented. “Years ago, when Lila first came to live with us as a child, she clung to Clay. Not that you could blame her. He was our dad in every way that counted. She followed him everywhere, even into the bathroom. In the end, he just took to carrying her around. He never got angry with her or tried to make her stop. He knew she was frightened he’d disappear. Eventually, she started to leave him alone for longer and longer periods at a time.”

“Bet he was glad when he could take a shit on his own,” Colin added with a grin.

Trace just shook his head. “What I’m saying is, if she needs to stay in the house to feel safe then there’s probably nothing wrong with that. Eventually, she’ll venture out. Who’s with her now?”

“No one.”

Colin stared over at his friends. “You left her by herself?” He didn’t want to sound judgmental, but hell.

“Max thinks we should act like things are normal, but they’re not fucking normal,” Logan snarled.

“Well, I don’t think we should treat her like she’s sick. Like she needs to be constantly watched,” Max snapped back.

“And backing off is going to fix things?”

“I don’t know. That’s the problem. She’s closing us out. She won’t talk to us. She usually tells us everything. Her mother likes to be the center of attention and Savannah learned that whatever was going on with her wasn’t as important. But Savannah doesn’t keep things from us.”

“You’ve never faced something this tough before,” Trace said. “Maybe some old insecurities have risen. Savannah’s used to the two of you being in control, and now you’re walking on eggshells around her. Duncan treaded too softly with Laken out of fear of driving her away and she ended up at Saxon’s with our wives to get his attention.”

“What do you want us to do? Demand she talk? Threaten to spank her if she doesn’t?” Logan bit out. “She was kidnapped and attacked. She needs . . . I don’t know . . . fucking tenderness.”

“It can be hard to share a woman. Takes a lot of communication. Whatever you do, the two of you need to be on the same page. She needs to feel secure in your relationship. Fighting each other isn’t helping anyone.”

Colin felt bad for his friends, he really did. But the person he worried about most was Savannah.

“You don’t want to do anything to scare her and you probably feel guilty over not keeping her safe, but pussyfooting around isn’t helping any of you,” Trace told them. “Maybe it’s time to push. Just a little.”

Logan and Max shared a look. “We need to get back to work,” Logan stated.

“Are you guys okay? You need help with anything?” Trace asked.

“We’re fine,” Max told him.

“And you wouldn’t tell us if things weren’t, right?” Colin said. “You know we’re friends, we’re here for you.”

Max slapped his shoulder. “Thanks.”

“Enough with the Hallmark moment,” Logan snapped. “I’m going back to check on Savi.”

Max nodded. “I’ll come too. Thanks for the beer.”

“Wait.” Trace pulled out his phone. “I have the number of a counselor here. It was someone that was recommended when Clay died. I don’t know if she does cases like Savannah’s, but maybe it’s worth a call. Perhaps they can help you guys move forward.” He gave them the number. Logan put it into his phone with a nod of thanks.

***

Logan looked over at Max as he climbed out of his truck back at the house. “You think I should call that number?”

Max gave him a grim look then looked over at the house. “We need to talk to Savi first.”

Frustration hit Logan, eating his gut. “Why?”

Max looked startled. “Because this is her life. This happened to her. She might not want to talk to some shrink.”

Logan frowned slightly. “Just because the quack you saw when you came back—”

“I don’t want to fucking talk about that.”

Frustration filled Logan. When Max told him he was quitting the armed forces, Logan had been pleased because he’d seen his brother dying a bit more after each mission. He’d grown harder. Colder. Oh, he’d tried to hide it, but Logan could see beneath the happy, carefree show he put on for everyone else.

Logan guessed he was a simple man at heart. Give him something to do, a warm bed at night, a good meal, and a soft, sweet woman, and he was happy.

He hadn’t seen and done the shit Max had. Not that Max had told him much. But Logan had heard him talk in his sleep a bit when he’d come home. He knew it had been bad.

Max had ambition and drive. When he’d come home for good, Logan didn’t think he’d ever be the man he’d once been. He had nightmares, he’d startled easily, and he was grumpy as fuck. The psychiatrist he’d seen had been worse than useless.

Max had walked out and never gone back. Thankfully, things had gotten better with time. But Logan didn’t think time alone would help Savannah. She was hurting, and he didn’t like it.

“This therapist could help her.”

Max snorted. “Or make things fucking worse.”

“We’ll do some research on this woman before we let Savi anywhere near her. Come on, Max. You know she’s in pain. She needs help. You know more about this than I do. We need to decide what to do.”

Max shot him a look. “You know the rules. We don’t talk about that time. You agreed.”

Logan sighed. “Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have forced you to talk to me.”

“Enough, Logan.”

“No, not enough. This is Savi. You treat your baggage how you want. But we don’t do that with Savannah. With our wife. We don’t put our shit on her. Especially when she’s dealing with this sort of trauma. She’s going to see that shrink.”

Max raised his eyebrows. “What if she doesn’t want to? You going to carry her there kicking and screaming?”

Frustration boiled in his gut. They were never at odds about how to care for Savannah. Over the ranch, sure. But not Savannah. Her needs always come first. Her care was top priority. But there was something going on with Max. A bitterness Logan hadn’t seen in a long time. Had everything that had happened opened up old wounds?

“I don’t know what’s going on with you—”

“With me? You’re the one that wants to drag our wife to talk to some stranger. You can’t force her to go, Logan.”

Well, why the fuck not?

Logan had been treating her so carefully, so scared that he might frighten her or say the wrong thing, but maybe that was the wrong thing to do. A shrink might be able to help them. “We need some help.”

“Because we’re fucking everything up. I got that loud and clear,” Max snapped. “I’m going to muck out the stalls. You go check on her.”

Logan sighed as his brother walked away, his body tense. Angry.

Jesus. Things were bad when he was the one holding everything together.

***

Max angrily shoveled out the stalls. What the fuck was wrong with him? Why had he snapped at Logan like that?

Because you know he’s right.

Time wasn’t going to fix anything. Leaving Savannah alone wasn’t helpful. They were supposed to take care of her. Protect her. It’s the way they’d been raised. It was the way things were done in Haven. Might seem a little old-fashioned to outsiders, but around here the men prided themselves on taking care of their women.

Yeah, and how well had they really protected her? One of them should have been with her that day.

He leaned against the side of the stable, breathing heavily.

Staring around, he noticed everything that needed fixing. The worn siding that needed replacing. The broken door. It was the same everywhere he went. If Logan wasn’t so good at repairing things, they’d have been screwed a long time ago.

Buying this place had been his idea. He’d been the one to convince Logan to trust him, that they could make it work. But he was failing. He was failing them all.

The only thing that had been keeping them from being out on their asses was the money Savi brought in. He’d sworn he’d never be like his stepfather. Never let his wife work herself to exhaustion to support him. Not that he’d ever allow Savannah to work herself to the bone like his mother had. But it still didn’t make him feel any better to rely on her for money to keep them afloat.

He turned and with a roar, smashed his fist into the wall. The rotten wood gave way, and he pulled back looking at the hole he’d created with a groan.

Fuck. Shit.

“Good one, asshole.” He placed his hands on his hips, breathing heavily. It was his job to take care of Savannah and Logan. Although his brother would kick his ass if he ever said that to him. But Logan didn’t know how bad things were. He didn’t know about the pile of overdue notices in his desk drawer.

He didn’t know they were about to lose the ranch.

Max looked up at the barn roof. A man took care of his family. He was the oldest. A bad season, a couple of huge bills he hadn’t expected, and it had all gone wrong, fast.

Maybe he should take Atkinson up on his offer to buy this place. Get them out from under this black pit of debt once and for all. He ran his hand over his face. Then he’d be able to spend more time with Savannah. Help her.

Pretending everything would be fine wasn’t working. Look at how well that had worked out for him. He still had nightmares, nights where he couldn’t sleep, flashbacks. Savannah had helped, she’d brought him out of the clutches of that dark hole and back into the light.

She hadn’t even known she was doing it. But her infectious laughter, her love of life, her love for them had slowly brought him back to the living. He’d actually felt happy, really happy, rather than it all being a pretense. And now that she needed him to do the same for her, what was he doing?

Sulking and throwing a temper tantrum.

Max usually had a plan. Maybe that’s what scared him the most. What if he made a decision and it was the wrong one? He felt helpless, and he hated it.

Well, he could damn well do something about the ranch. He needed to get them out from under this debt.

Walking back to his truck, he grabbed his phone. Maybe selling to Atkinson wasn’t the only choice he had.

“Hey, Travis,” he said as the other man answered the phone.

“Max, not someone I thought I’d hear from.”

Travis Andrews owned Raptors, Inc., a private security company that took high-risk jobs overseas. Max and Logan had done some jobs for him in the past. Before they’d bought the ranch.

“We need to talk.”