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I can only nod. I’m so tired, so afraid, and so disappointed. I truly hoped that whoever Catherine was taking me to could have healed me, and now I’m back to the knowledge that I’m dying without any chance of recovery. I think back to the nightmare again, see my dead son in my arms, and I shudder.
Jax lays me in bed and covers me with a throw blanket as he busies himself getting everything ready. I curl in the fetal position, cradling my stomach. My son, my poor son…silent tears pour from my eyes.
I never should have come here, disturbed so much, and now I’ll hurt so many…
“Please, don’t cry…” Jax says, and the bed shifts as he sits beside me and strokes my hair gently. “We’re going to be okay, I promise.”
The cat from earlier pushes the door to Jax’s bedroom open, pads her way through the room and jumps on the bed. She walks around for a few moments, then curls up next to my head on the pillow and begins licking my hair.
“Even Scraps say you’ll be okay, see?” Jax pets her and she growls quietly.
“I think Scraps is saying ‘don’t touch me,” I say, laughing a little, which makes Scraps purr loudly.
“If she makes you laugh, Scraps can do and say anything she wants to me…” Jax is smiling, and he leans down to kiss me gently before he goes back to what he’s doing.
I wrap my arms around the little black cat and pull her to my chest. Most cats would freak out, scratch me, run away, but Scraps? She purrs louder and closes her eyes. I think I’m in love with this weird little cat. After what I’ve done to countless cats growing up, I know I don't deserve her love, but I nuzzle her forehead with my nose, nevertheless. Before long, we’re asleep together.
I don’t resurface until the wind and thumping of the helicopter shocks me awake. Jax is carrying me again, and he’s stepping into the helicopter as I open my eyes. I jerk up, looking around frantically, but tiny nails dig into the skin of my chest and I yelp in surprise. The cat is still on my chest, glaring in hatred at anyone who tries to touch her.
“Scraps took it to heart when I said she can do anything she wants.” Jax laughs as the helicopter begins to take off. “And Scraps wants to go to the safehouse with us.”
Chapter16
Jackson
The steady thump of the helicopter soon soothes Cricket back to sleep and I’m left with my thoughts. Scraps in on Cricket’s chest and they’re both holding on to each other so tightly that it must hurt them both, but they’re content and asleep. There’s always been something about this cat, she’s got to be ancient. I’ve never not known about her. I remember teasing her with a feather when I was just a little kid, and she still looks the same.
I stroke the cat idly, lost in thought. I keep trying to think of the future, having children with my mate, but my mind won't let me see past this next month. I won’t let that be the case. I won't let this nightmare come true. I can’t.
The safehouse comes into view over the towering pines and sheer cliffs of the mountains. It’s a quaint house, only one bedroom, and tucked against the side of the cliff and hidden from view by foliage and boulders. This place has been untouched for so long I’m a little concerned about its condition.
Cricket doesn’t wake as the helicopter lands, nor does she wake when we exit and I carry her into the small house. The pilot unlocks the door for us and leaves me the key, but beyond that there's nothing to do. He wastes no time and quickly leaves again, making sure to check the area with an infrared drone so that he can be sure no one is watching. He leaves me the drone as well, just to be safe.
The house is exactly as I remember it, cozy and unassuming, if a little dusty. Everything is dated back to the mid 90s, including wooden furniture with removable velvet covers decorated with a gray and gold monochromatic flower pattern with wagons on it. The kitchen is shades of yellow, the carpet in all the rooms is a thick red shag. No one would ever assume it’s outfitted with bulletproof windows and state of the art security inside and outside the house.
No one would ever guess there are firearms hidden under chairs and behind picture frames. No one would ever see the panic button on the back side of the old-fashioned bed frame in the bedroom. No one would know there’s Kevlar in the blankets. Everything looks normal, old, as if the house was forgotten and abandoned years ago.
“Yes, this is perfect…” I say out loud.
Cricket stirs in my arms as I carry her to the bedroom and lay her in the bed gently. Thankfully, it’s summer and there’s no need to go and get firewood, but I’ll need to go get food.
I scratch a note quickly and leave it on the side table before I head out to hunt.
* * *
I’ve nearly finished cooking the rabbit I hunted down and stripped for soup when Cricket finally shows signs of waking. There's a small garden of potatoes and onions with natural growing herbs behind the house, so the smell of the soup is amazing and I know it calls to her like it’s calling to me. My stomach rumbles loudly as I grab two dusty bowls and spoons out of the cupboard and wash them.
I smile as I feel Cricket’s arms slide around my waist and her face presses against my back. I look over my shoulder and wink at her, and she smiles up at me sweetly.
“That smells so good!” she says sleepily and yawns.
“Not as good as you…” I say, laying a wet, soapy hand over hers as she chuckles.
“I smell like a wreck and carnage,” she whispers, sniffing herself for emphasis.
“Would you like to bathe before we eat? I can put this on simmer.”
“No, I’m starving! Food first, then stink.”
