Dread squeezed his insides. He should warn Seyla.
He interrupted the redhead mid-sentence. “Well, I’m starving.” He pointed a thumb in the direction of the food area. “I’m gonna head to the food pavilion to grab some food to eat. If I see the girls, Matt, I’ll let them know you’re on your way.” Jax ignored the startled reaction on Matt’s face and strode away, leaving Matt to finish the conversation.
Jax loved his friend, but the guy was as slow as a sloth on those crutches, and Jax needed to move. Fast. He aimed for the pavilion, eyes searching for any sign of Seyla, Jessa, or Travis. If he got to Travis first, Seyla wouldn’t know the guy had ever shown up here.
His hands tightened into fists at the thought of the scene he’d come upon at the sanctuary. He hated the idea of that man ever getting that close to Seyla again, and he had no problem making sure of it.
/////
The heavy scent of deep-fried cinnamon sugar funnel cakes filled the air where Seyla stood next to Jessa off to the side of the red and white striped food pavilion. She stifled a gag at the inescapable, sickly sweet scent. Normally mouth-watering, the greasy heaviness only added to the smothering pressure engulfing her.
A chirping sound reached her ears above the sounds of the crowd.
Jessa waved her phone in the air. “Sorry, it’s the sanctuary. I have to go somewhere quieter to take this.” She pointed toa more secluded area near a water pistol game sporting bright pink elephant prizes.
“Great,” Seyla gushed with a little too much enthusiasm.
Once Jessa walked away, Seyla dashed behind one of the booths on the outskirts of the main path. She inhaled and leaned a shoulder against the taunt, musty-scented canvas of the tent. Slowly, she exhaled, the tension easing from her body with the knowledge that the tent stood between her and the crowd. Her fingers rubbed against the rough-textured material and her shoulders dropped in relief.
“Seyla? Are you okay, dear?”
Seyla’s eyes popped open to see Maggie Albright, an elderly woman from church, eyeing her with alarm.
“Oh, I’m okay. I-I wanted a break from the crowd.”
Maggie patted her arm. “Come on. You can rest in Eleanor’s aromatherapy tent. It’s quiet, and she left to get a late lunch a couple minutes ago. There’s a comfy chair and lights. You seem like you need to relax.” Maggie led her to a tented booth with a “Closed” sign a good distance from the pavilion. The woman’s face blossomed in a wide smile. She winked. “I’ll go now. You get some rest.”
“Thanks, Maggie. Oh, and thank you for the birthday card you sent. It was beautiful.”
“I’m glad it brightened your day. Mission accomplished.”
Seyla hugged the older woman before she left, then eyed the tent. The front awning had been lowered, blocking any view from the outside into the booth. Perfect. She slipped around to the back, ducking inside via the flap door.
Her eyes closed, she stood in the middle of the room, drinking in the stillness. The scents of lavender, rosemary and lemon surrounded her, soothing her frayed nerves. Blocking out any sounds from the outside world, she focused on taking deep breaths until her senses calmed down. The tent material rustled.Seyla pressed her lids together tighter, intent on ignoring whoever had run into the side of her oasis.
The stench of alcohol inundated her nose with the force of a wrecking ball, snapping her eyes open. She whirled around into the leering face of Travis Yoder. Her sharp intake of air led to a fit of coughing.
He grabbed her shoulders, his sour cigarette-and-beer-laced odor coating the air between them.
Afraid to take in any of the noxious air, Seyla felt herself getting light-headed. When she backed away from him, his hands clamped on her shoulders like vice grips.
“You think you can take what’s mine?” Travis hissed. “I can take whatever I want from you. Whenever I want. You remember that. I’m coming for you, when you least expect it.” He raised a shoulder to wipe his nose with it, his hands tightening on her shoulders.
Seyla swallowed the bile pressing up into her throat, her mind reeling with the effort to focus on anything other than that mix of body odor and alcohol. It dredged up traumatic memories, disorienting her, making it tough to think. To react. Words stuck in the back of her mouth, words she wanted to hurl at Travis with enough force to make him let go.
“And I’ll get my liger back, too,” Travis added, a sneer twisting his features into a cruel mask. “You can count on that. Whether it’s dead or alive.”
Tobacco bits hung between his teeth. Seyla shuddered with nausea.
Chills ran over her skin, giving her gooseflesh.
Would Travis actually attempt to kill Baron, the lion and tiger hybrid they’d rescued from his property? Her pulse kicked up, her hands fisting at the prospect of harm coming to Baron. Her jaw jutted forward. Seyla stared hard into the man’s eyes. “You won't touch him. I’ll make sure of it.”
She brought both hands together at her waist and shot them upward, knocking his hands from her shoulders.
Travis shoved her, knocking her into a table. “Watch your back. Not that it’ll do you much good.” He hauled open the tent flap and stalked off.
Seyla hated the helplessness blanketing her, the fear that she wouldn’t be there to protect Baron when Travis carried out his threats.