Page 7 of Sniper Daddy
The fire crackles softly, the only sound besides Piper’s steady breathing. She sleeps most of the time, which is exactly what Eli ordered. I keep the room quiet, the curtains drawn just enough to block the bright mountain sunlight. Every few hours I check her forehead for fever, adjust the pillows under her injured leg, and make sure the blankets stay tucked around her. She looks smaller in my bed, fragile against the navy quilt, but there’s a stubborn set to her jaw even when she’s unconscious. I like that about her already.
She stirs now, eyelids fluttering. I lean forward, elbows on my knees, and wait. Her eyes open slowly. They’re a warm hazel, still foggy with pain and confusion. When they focus on me, she tenses.
“Easy,” I say, voice low. “You’re safe. I’m right here.”
She tries to sit up. Pain flashes across her face. She hisses through her teeth and falls back against the pillows.
“Damn it,” she mutters.
I stand and move to the side of the bed. “Let me help.”
She eyes me warily but nods once. I slide one arm behind her shoulders and ease her up, supporting her weight so she doesn’t strain her ribs. She grimaces but doesn’t push me away. Once she’s propped against the headboard, I grab the extra pillow and tuck it behind her back.
“Better?” I ask.
She nods, breathing shallow. “A little. Thank you.”
I step back and give her space. “Hungry?”
Her stomach growls before she can answer. A faint blush colors her cheeks. “Starving, actually.”
I pick up the thermos on the nightstand. Harper brought fresh chicken soup this morning. I pour some into a mug, test the temperature, and hand it to her with a spoon.
She takes it carefully, but her hands shake. The spoon clatters against the side of the mug.
I don’t hesitate. I sit on the edge of the bed and take the mug back. “Let me.”
She looks ready to argue, but another wave of pain crosses her face. She nods.
I scoop a small spoonful and blow on it gently before holding it to her lips. She takes it slowly. Her eyes close for a second as the warm broth hits her tongue.
“Good?” I ask.
She nods again. “Really good.”
I feed her in silence for a while. Spoon by spoon. Slow and careful. She watches me the whole time, like she’s trying to figure me out. I don’t mind the scrutiny. I’ve been watching her for days.
After half the mug is gone, she leans back and sighs. “Thank you. I feel like a child.”
“You’re hurt,” I say simply. “Doesn’t make you weak.”
She studies me for a long moment. “Where exactly am I? You said Haven 7. What is that?”
I set the mug on the nightstand and settle back in the chair. “It’s a compound. Private land on Wedding Cake Mountain. A group of us built it years ago. Men mostly, but families live here now too. We protect people who need it. People who can’t go back to where they came from.”
She absorbs that. “The women you mentioned earlier. Harper and the others. Are they… like me? Running from something?”
“Some of them,” I say. “Harper was in trouble when she got here. So was Kayley. Sadie. They all found safety here. The men protect what’s theirs. The women look out for each other.”
She’s quiet for a while, fingers tracing the edge of the blanket. “And you? Why do you stay here?”
I lean back and cross my arms. “Needed a place where the noise stopped. The military was loud. Constant. I came here after I got out. Found men who understood. Built something worth defending.”
She nods slowly, like she’s filing the information away. “How many people live here?”
“About twenty full time. More come and go. We keep it small on purpose. Easier to protect.”
Eli knocks softly on the door then. I stand and let him in. He moves quietly, medical bag in hand.
