When He Found Me (Road to Refuge Book 1)

by Victoria Bylin

  He gave her a curious look but followed her to the waiting room. Another family was present, so she led him down the hall to the first open door she saw. It turned out to be a large linen closet. No one was around, so she led him inside and closed the door. When he set down his duffle, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders.

  As he drew her close, her body molded to his. Relaxing into him, she raised her face and gazed into his eyes. “I just needed to hold you.”

  He kissed her temple, her cheeks, finally her quivering lips. In Daisy’s hospital room, MJ had witnessed Shane making the hardest decision of his life. The man she cherished knew when to fight for someone he loved—and when to let go of an impossible dream. The three special words she had yet to speak danced on her tongue. Easing back, she looked into his startling blue eyes.

  “I love you,” she said.

  A roguish smile lifted one corner of his mouth. “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve said it?”

  “Yes,” she admitted. “But it won’t be the last.”

  “It better not be.” A low rumble echoed in his throat. His eyelids gave a languid blink, then he kissed her long and slow, telling her without words that he would love her always, just as she was. Full of joy, she kissed him back with equal commitment, staking a claim on his heart and baring hers. Vulnerable yet unafraid, she rejoiced in being the woman God had made just for Shane.

  Chapter 31

  Six weeks later, Shane was behind the wheel of his Chevy Tahoe, with MJ riding shotgun as they cruised up I-15 from Los Angeles. A Laundromat wasn’t the most romantic spot to propose—unless it was where you met the woman who restored your heart and soul. The diamond ring Shane had purchased in L.A. a few days ago was burning a hole in his pocket, but he kept the speedometer at a reasonable seventy-five on the deserted interstate. MJ was holding his free hand, humming along to a song on the radio.

  With school out for winter break, they had driven to L.A. to clean out his apartment and to help Daisy pack for her move to Refuge. She’d be flying with Lyn in a few days and moving into MJ’s house. Daisy didn’t have much, but what little she owned would be waiting for her when she arrived.

  The past week had been a blast for everyone, including Olivia and Cody, who had flown in for a family trip to Disneyland. Olivia had become good friends with Lyn, and Cody had hit it off with Daisy instantly. He already called her Aunt Daisy, and the two of them had played about a hundred games of checkers, Candy Land, and Hungry Hungry Hippos.

  A sign marked the turnoff for the town with the Laundromat. MJ gave a loud yawn. “I can’t wait to get home.”

  “Me too.” He pretended to check the fuel gauge. “We better stop for gas.”

  “Sure. Whatever.” She yawned again, then wiggled her feet into the shoes he’d given to her four months ago.

  His nervousness mounted as he steered down the off-ramp, stealing glances at MJ as he turned up the hill toward the Laundromat.

  At the sight of the hotel, she bolted upright. “This is where we met!”

  “Wow, what a coincidence.” Not.

  Grinning, she pointed up the road to a row of stores. “There’s the Laundromat. Let’s go inside.”

  “Sure. Why not?” Perfect! He wouldn’t have to make up a lame excuse, or sound all sentimental, which he was when it came to MJ and Cody.

  The instant he parked, she jumped out of the SUV and headed for the door. He reached it first, held it wide, and followed her inside, noticing with some relief that they were alone. Nothing had changed. The space still smelled of dust and laundry soap, and he was sure there were a few stray coins under the washing machines, maybe even the pennies MJ had dropped.

  His pulse revved up to a spin cycle. “I’ll never forget that day.”

  “Me either.” She laid her hand on a washing machine, took a few steps, and faced him. “So much has happened since then.”

  Playing it cool, he reached into his pocket for the ring. “Do you remember the alphabet game?”

  A sweet smile lifted her lips. “Of course. L is for Laundromat.”

  “It’s also for Love.” As if he were going down for a ground ball, he dropped to one knee and held out the ring. The diamond caught a ray of sunlight and sparkled with an intensity that far exceeded the lights of any baseball stadium. Shane’s pulse rocketed into double-time. “I love you, MJ. You’re beautiful, kind, and the missing piece of my heart. I love you with everything in me, and I love Cody like a son.”

  “Oh, Shane—”

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” MJ answered, her voice loud and clear. “Yes!”

  Shane slipped the ring on her finger, stood tall, and drew her into his arms for a kiss she would never forget. Some kisses affirmed life. Others celebrated it. And a few like this one gave birth to new beginnings.

  Four months ago, MJ had stood in this very spot with only faith to sustain her. Some of their dreams had died, like Shane’s baseball career. Others, like finding Daisy, had come true. Thanks to the attic letters, MJ and her mother had reconciled, and MJ was completely comfortable with her own body. They wouldn’t know about the HPV for a while, but she and Shane were committed to trusting God for a family.

  Shane brushed kisses on her cheek, her temple, finally her soft lips. “Life is short. And it’s fragile. I don’t want to waste a minute of what we have together.”

  “Neither do I.”

  He kissed her again, then they hugged until Shane broke the silence. “You know who’ll be happy about this?”

  “Cody.”

  “And your mom?”

  “Definitely.”

  Arm in arm, they walked out of the Laundromat. Shane helped her onto the front seat of his SUV, and they took off for the interstate. MJ reached for his hand and squeezed. The diamond glistened in the sunlight and she couldn’t contain her joy. An idea surfaced, and she decided to run with it. “Let’s play the alphabet game.”

  “Sure. You first.”

  “W is for Wedding.”

  “I like that.” He thought a moment. “How about the letter U?”

  MJ came up blank. “Tell me.”

  “U is for Us.”

  Grinning, she played the letter she had in mind. “What does H stand for?”

  Shane drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “House? Home?”

  “No.” She dragged out the word. “Try again.”

  He shook his head. “I give up.”

  “How about Hawaii? As in Honeymoon?”

  “Oh yeah, I like that one.” He waggled his brows at her until she laughed and waggled hers back at him.

  What a joy to anticipate M for Marriage! God—the Alpha and the Omega—had come up with the perfect end to the alphabet game. With her heart brimming, MJ held tight to Shane’s hand and dreamed of their future.

  Next in the Road to Refuge Series . . .

  A Gift To Cherish

  By Victoria Bylin

  A woman’s scream cut through the night. Sharp. Penetrating. It stabbed Rafe Donovan’s eardrums and sent him running down the dark alley toward the shrieks. Three stories above, laughter tumbled out of a tenement window backlit by a dull pink bulb. The old brick walls stank of urine and grease. Dumpsters overflowed onto cracked asphalt, and rotting garbage clogged the gutters.

  The woman screamed again, louder this time.

  No. No. No. He couldn’t let Kara die. He ran harder, faster. The soles of his black uniform boots slapped the pavement, each stride a hammer blow. His Glock rode tight on his hip, his badge heavy and bright on his chest.

  She screamed again—a heaving plea for him to save her.

  He ran toward the scream, his arms pumping and lungs straining. But instead of growing louder, the scream faded, as if Kara were being dragged away from him.

  He imagined her bare heels repeatedly hitting the concrete. He blinked and saw her pale arms flailing, her skin mottled with track marks from the addiction she couldn’t shake. She had tried. Rafe knew
that better than anyone. But the pills and later the needles had a grip so tight no one—not even wannabe superhero Rafe Donovan—could drag her from those fire-breathing demons of addiction. He tried and had ripped her in two.

  A third scream cut through the night. Vile laughter poured out of the windows above him, like bubbles from a child’s bubble machine, only the bubbles were huge and had horrible faces.

  “Kara!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “Kara! I’m coming for you!” His legs bicycled despite his exhaustion. Sweat poured off his body and he smelled his own stink. A cry ripped out of his throat, and then—

  “Rafe!” A deep voice sliced through the fog. “Rafe! Wake up!”

  “No!”

  “Come on, bro.”

  The voice belonged to Jesse, Rafe’s older brother. Somehow it called to him as if they were kids again, and the monster in the house was their dad. Rafe’s stepdad but Jesse’s blood father.

  “Wake up. You’re having a nightmare.”

  A bright light popped on but dimmed to a tolerable glow. Rafe’s head cleared with the shift. He was in Jesse’s house in Refuge, a log cabin with dimmer switches on every wall, hardwood floors that didn’t squeak, and almost no furniture because his brother was too busy building houses to furnish them.

  Rafe swung his feet over the side of the bed, scrubbed his face with his sweaty hands, then raked his fingers through his hair. His head didn’t feel like his own. He’d been off the job for a week now and hadn’t bothered to get a haircut. Shaving was optional, something else he had ignored. When he was in uniform, he kept his hair short and shaved at least once a day, sometimes twice.

  Jesse stayed in the doorway. “That sounded like a bad one.”

  “Yeah. Stupid, too.”

  “Wanna talk about it?”

  “No.” Rafe snatched up his phone. “What time is it anyway?” The blue numbers told him it was 2:58 a.m. “Crud.” Too soon to get up. Not enough time to calm down and go back to sleep. It was early Sunday, so he didn’t need to think about getting to work. It was an easy job, anyway. Just pounding nails for Jesse’s construction business but Rafe took it seriously.

  He took everything seriously.

  Jessie didn’t budge. “Coffee?”

  Rafe swore. “Go back to bed. I’m fine.”

  Except they both knew he wasn’t. A few days ago Rafe had pulled his brand new red Camaro into his brother’s driveway, hauled his duffle out of the trunk, and rapped on the door like the cop he’d been until last week—the cop he wanted to be again, but first he had to shake the nightmares. As for that panic attack in a Cincinnati alley, only Rafe’s supervising officers and the department shrink knew about that, and no one else would know if he had anything to say about it. To hide it from his friends and fellow officers, he had made up a story about his brother needing help with his business, then hightailed it to Wyoming. A few friends asked why, but no one was surprised. The daily battle against crime, drugs, and ugliness took a toll on everyone.

  But leaving put Rafe in a Catch-22. Police work gave him a purpose. He was protective by nature, which meant he needed people to protect. Strangers on the street filled that bill just fine. But then he had suffered the panic attack, or whatever it was, while responding to a call about a woman screaming. Just like that, he flashed back to Kara Howard, his high school sweetheart and the love of his life—the beautiful girl next door who had somehow loved the troubled boy whose stepfather drank too much. He had tried to save Kara when the pills told their lies. He’d done everything—

  “Rafe?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” He wished his brother would leave him alone. Standing abruptly, he snatched yesterday’s Levis off the back of a chair, the belt dangling in the loops. “Go back to bed. I’m all right.”

  “Sure you are.”

  “I am.” Now they were both lying. “Get out of here. I’m going for a drive.”

  “It’s almost three in the morning.”

  “So what?” Rafe scowled out the window. He would have preferred a long, hard run, but the half moon cast only a dull glow and Jesse’s house was nestled low in a canyon. No sidewalks. No streetlights. If he went running, he’d be running blind. No way would he risk tripping on a rock and busting his arm again. Been there, done that. Took the pain pills for a day, then dumped them in a can of stale coffee, duct-taped it shut, and buried it in a Dumpster.

  He wished he’d done that for Kara. Icy fingers of sweat dripped down his spine. “I have to get out of here.”

  Jesse stepped back. “Go for it. Just—”

  “I know. Be careful. You sound like Mom.”

  “Sorry.” Jesse grimaced, maybe more at himself than at Rafe. Shaking his head, he ambled back down the hall to the master bedroom, leaving Rafe to cinch his belt, punch into a shirt, and snag his key fob.

  Two minutes later he was behind the steering wheel. The engine purred to life at his touch, and the headlights slashed through the darkness as he cruised down Jesse’s street, a narrow road lined with homes set back in the trees. Only an occasional porch light, left on to scare away raccoons, hinted at civilization.

  He didn’t belong here. His heart beat to an urban rhythm—convenience stores open 24/7, the dull hum of cars at all hours, early morning delivery trucks.

  Jaw tight, he shot up the last hill and headed toward downtown Refuge—if it could be called downtown. When he reached the six square blocks of restaurants, shops and businesses, every window was dark and buttoned up. Not a single electric sign lit the night, so he decided to cruise to the interstate fifteen miles away. He’d grab coffee somewhere and drink it in his car the way he did when he was on patrol back in Cincy.

  Or better yet, if Angie was working graveyard at IHOP and her tables were slow, maybe she’d sit with him. Rafe liked everything about Angie—her sense of humor, her olive skin and shiny black hair, those dark eyes made up to seduce truck drivers into leaving big tips. He didn’t know about the truck drivers, but he’d been generous just for the pleasure of it.

  Or maybe Krystal at the Denny’s would like some company after work. Rafe didn’t smoke, do drugs, or drink more than an occasional beer, but when it came to women, he was far more open-minded.

  Anticipating female company, he cruised the highway until his gaze snagged on a car stopped on the other side of the road. The passenger door was open, and the dome light cast a dull glow into the interior of a late model Hyundai. The trunk was raised, and the car was listing on the driver’s side thanks to a flat tire.

  Adrenaline chased away whatever gloom remained from the nightmare. Someone needed help, and he was in the right place at the right time.

  Using one hand, he pulled a U-turn just short of a fishtail and parked twenty feet behind the Hyundai. If the driver was a woman alone, he didn’t want to scare her. And if this was some kind of weird set-up, he didn’t want to be a victim.

  The Camaro headlights lit up a Hyundai Elantra with Wyoming plates. So the driver was a local, perhaps someone headed to Refuge. Whoever he or she was, they were staying out of sight. Rafe retrieved a mini Maglite out of the console. The flashlight wasn’t much bigger than a felt-tip marker, but it could light up the night. Ready for anything, he climbed out of the car, pushed to his full height, and used the flashlight to scan the darkness on the periphery of the headlight beams.

  “Hello there,” he called out as he took a couple of steps. “Looks like you need some help.”

  “Get back! Now!”

  Whoa. No doubt he’d ridden to the rescue of a woman alone. She just didn’t know it and was wise not to trust him. He didn’t bother to say he was a police officer back in Ohio. Ted Bundy had used that line too.

  Still holding the flashlight, Rafe raised his arms to shoulder level. The beam of light shot skyward, leaving the woman in the dark until footsteps scraped on the sandy apron of the highway. She remained in the shadows, but she appeared to be a white female in her twenties, about five-foot-six, and average weight. Her blond hair
was in a waitress-y bun, and she was wearing a uniform of some sort. If he wasn’t mistaken, she’d assumed a combat stance and was holding a can of pepper spray.

  “Don’t move!” she said again. “Get in your car and leave.”

  “Miss—”

  “I said leave.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Yes, you can.”

  Of all the things in life Rafe couldn’t do, abandoning a woman in trouble was at the top of the list. He’d rather get pepper-sprayed, even shot, than read about a woman murdered on the side of the highway when he could have saved her. No way could he abandon this woman, which meant he needed to win her trust.

  Books By Victoria Bylin

  Contemporary Romance

  Until I Found You

  Together With You

  Someone Like You

  The Two of Us

  When He Found Me

  Inspirational Westerns

  The Bounty Hunter’s Bride

  Kansas Courtship

  “Home Again” in In a Mother’s Arms

  “Josie’s Wedding Dress” in Brides of the West

  The Women of Swan’s Nest Series

  The Maverick Preacher

  Wyoming Lawman

  The Outlaw’s Return

  Marrying the Major

  Harlequin Historicals *

  Of Men and Angels

  West of Heaven

  Abbie’s Outlaw

  Midnight Marriage

  “A Son is Given” in Stay for Christmas

  “The Christmas Dove” in The Magic of Christmas

  * These stories have Christian themes, but they were written for the mainstream market. They contain scenes, situations, and language some readers will prefer to avoid.

  A Word from Victoria . . .

  This may sound crazy, but I was driven to write romance by giant bugs and killer rabbits. I just couldn't take it anymore. My husband and two sons would be camped in front of the television watching a movie about spiders the size of bowling balls, and I'd be wondering when the handsome scientist would get around to kissing the spunky woman with the bug spray. When it didn't happen, I decided to write my own happy endings—without the giant bugs.