by Jane Jamison
Molly had stopped being a scared little girl. At first, she’d refused to come out of the room they shared with another woman and her daughter. Now she’d changed into an excitable young girl who loved playing with the smaller children. As far as Julie was concerned, they were both assets to the shelter.
She gently pushed Brenna back and dragged in a much-needed breath. “It’s my pleasure. Besides, I’m going to brag when she becomes a famous painter and say I helped start her along her way.”
“Fair enough. You’ve made my little girl so happy.” Brenna’s deep Southern accent grew even more pronounced when she was excited. Her big brown eyes glistened with joy as she watched Molly sit down on the front porch and carefully place each tube of paint in front of her.
“What about you? How are you doing? How’d the job interview go?”
Brenna hugged her again, even harder, until she had to break her hold again.
“It went great.” Brenna stood up straight and tall. “You are now looking at the new cashier for the graveyard shift.”
“Have you found an apartment yet? And what about Molly? What will she do after school?”
“I found a small rental house a little ways outside this cute little town called Twisted. It’s only a few miles from Crosston where I’ll be working. The folks there are real friendly. I figure the smaller the town, the less likely Randall will show up. And if he does, then he’ll be noticed. As for after school, the nice lady who owns the bed and breakfast there said she’d be more than happy to watch out for her.”
“Wow. You’ve got it all lined out. That’s terrific.”
This time Brenna hugged herself. “I can’t believe how good everything’s going. If I hadn’t found this shelter, and then you, I don’t know what would’ve happened to us. Like I said before, you’re a godsend, Julie Brooks. A real live godsend.”
“You did all the hard work.” She looked at Molly, and the old, familiar ache hit her in the gut. If it hadn’t been for Hank, she might’ve made it past the second month of her pregnancy. Her heart hurt thinking about having lost the baby. Would she have had a girl or a boy? Would her child have had her chestnut hair and blue eyes?
She forced herself to keep the pain inside from showing on the outside. “When will you be leaving?” She’d miss both Brenna and Molly, as she did all the women and children at the shelter, but they’d always be special.
Brenna’s smile faltered. “In a week. The rental house won’t be ready until then. Dang, girlfriend, I’m going to miss you so much.”
“Me, too.” Molly got to her feet and ran to throw her arms around Julie’s legs.
“Why don’t you come with us, Julie?”
“Yay! Come with us, Miss Julie,” pleaded Molly.
Their offer touched her more than she could say. “You know I can’t. What would the shelter do without me?” She was only teasing, giving an excuse.
“That’s true enough.” Brenna pulled Molly against her. “But if you ever change your mind, you just go on into Twisted and ask the lady running the B&B where we are. Her name’s Lena Fortran.”
“Lena Fortran. Got it.” If they kept talking much longer, she might be tempted to go.
“Well, will you look at that? Brenna Scruggs, have you turned dike on me? Damn you, you cunt. I’ve been hunting for you for a fucking month.”
Julie didn’t need to ask who the big, burly man was striding up the steps of the shelter. Before she could react, he took hold of Brenna’s arm and started dragging her down the steps.
“Let go of me, Randall,” cried Brenna. But it did no good.
Molly clung to her mother’s shirttail as her father stormed toward an old rust-covered pickup at the curb. Although Brenna struggled, she couldn’t break free.
Julie sucked in a hard breath. The fear she’d felt with Hank came rushing back. She wasn’t sure she would’ve been able to move if it hadn’t been for Molly’s cries. Fighting back the fear, she raced down the steps. “Let her go. You have no right to force her to leave with you. You can’t kidnap them.”
Randall whipped around, his fingers digging into Brenna’s flesh. His dark brown eyes narrowed in on Julie. “Back off, bitch. This is my wife and my kid. A man cain’t kidnap his own wife and kid.”
“She doesn’t want to go with you. That’s kidnapping. Turn her loose, or I’ll call the police.” She pulled her cellphone out of her back pocket and held it up, her finger poised and ready to push 9-1-1.
Molly rushed to Julie and clung to her leg. “Please don’t let my daddy take us away.”
“You’re not going anywhere. Turn her loose right this minute or I’ll call.” She prayed she wouldn’t pass out before she got the police on the line.
“Let me go, Randall. I’m not going anywhere with you.” Brenna jerked her arm so hard she almost lost her footing. She scurried over to stand behind Julie.
“Fuck you, you bitch. They’re my family. I’ve got rights.”
She heard Hank’s voice in her head. “Fuck you, Julie-bitch.”
“You don’t have the right to make them leave with you. Now go and don’t come back.”
The fury rolling off his body came at her like a heat wave. His glare grew even harder as he fisted his hands. “I don’t know who the fuck you think you are, but you’re not going to get away with this. Ain’t neither one of you is going to get away with this.” He pointed an accusing finger at her then at his wife.
Julie faked a bravery she didn’t feel. “Watch us, Mr. Scruggs. Just watch us.”
The man was so angry he was almost foaming at the mouth. He wiped his spittle away with the back of his hand. “You just wait, Brenna. You’re coming home with me soon enough.”
“Now, Mr. Scruggs. Go.” Julie put her finger on the first number.
Sneering, he whirled away, cursing as he stalked back to his pickup. Glaring at them one more time, he jumped inside the cab and floored the truck. The squeal of his tires floated in the air as the pickup sped down the street.
“How did he find me?”
Brenna was so distraught that Julie barely understood what she’d said. Molly cried, her eyes wide as she followed the truck’s departure.
“Did you tell anyone you were staying here?” Julie took hold of Brenna’s arms and forced her to meet her gaze.
“No one. Not even my new boss.”
The women’s shelter’s location was a secret known only to social workers and the police. Finding out where Brenna was had to have been a difficult feat for Randall to accomplish. But now that he knew, there was only one choice to be made.
“Brenna, you have to leave.”
Brenna’s eyes grew larger. “No. I can’t. I don’t have anywhere else to go until next week.”
“What about Twisted? Maybe you can get into the rental house early? Tell them it’s an emergency.”
Brenna adamantly shook her head. “No. I can’t. I don’t want anyone finding out about me.”
“What about the lady at the B&B? Maybe you can stay with her.”
“I could ask, but—”
“But what? Tell me.”
“What if Randall knows where I’m going? He found this place. He can find us there, too.”
A cold chill rushed through Julie. Brenna was right. Randall could’ve followed Brenna to Crosston then to Twisted. “Then you’ll have to stay somewhere else until we can find you another town and job. I’m sorry, but you’re right. You’re going to have to start over again.”
Brenna was sobbing as hard as Molly now. “But where? I don’t have any family. What am I supposed to do?”
What was she supposed to do? Her options weren’t just limited. They were almost non-existent. Except for one choice. “Until we can figure out where you can go, you can stay with me.”
“What? With you?”
“Yes, with me.” Julie put her arm around Brenna and led her back toward the shelter. The other volunteers, social workers, and women watched them. “Just don’t tell anyone
where you’re going.”
She had the money to put them up in a hotel, but she wouldn’t feel right, leaving Brenna and Molly alone. Having her stay in her home was against the rules, but it was a rule she was willing to break. As long as Brenna didn’t find out. If she did, Brenna would refuse to go with her.
“What if Randall comes back? He’ll go crazy if he doesn’t find me here.”
Julie felt her tremble. God knew she understood how she was feeling. “Don’t worry about him. Let him go crazy. That’ll give the cops another reason to lock him up.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” She eased Brenna up the stairs. “Hurry and get your things together. You, too, Molly.”
Once Brenna and Molly were inside the home, she turned and scanned the road. What if he did come back? Would he find out where she’d taken his wife and child? And if he did, how would she be able to protect them?
One problem at a time.
Chapter Two
An hour later, Brenna and Molly were sitting on the couch in her cozy living room and watching a game show on television. Julie was busy changing the sheets on her bed, having finally convinced Brenna that she and Molly should take her bed. It was the right thing to do. Wanting to keep her daughter comfortable and as close as possible, Brenna had finally agreed.
Or at least, she’d thought so.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather share the bed with Molly? I’ll be fine on the couch.”
Julie shot Brenna a look telling her to give up on trying to change the sleeping arrangement. “No, it’s better this way. Sometimes I get up really early and paint. This way I won’t disturb either of you.”
Especially when I wake up from a bad nightmare.
“If you’re sure,” added Brenna.
“For the thousandth time, I’m positive. Now, who wants pizza for dinner?”
Molly’s hand shot into the air. “I do! I do!”
“If it’s okay with your mom, of course.”
“Sure it is. I’m a big pizza lover.” Brenna smiled, but the joy her eyes had held earlier in the day was gone.
“It’s going to be okay.” Julie dropped the blanket on top of the coffee table. “Trust me. We found you a job and a new home once. We can do it again.”
“If you say so.”
“I say so.” She pulled out her cellphone. “Molly, you like turtle feet on your pizza, right?”
“Eew. Turtle feet? Yuck.” Molly scrunched up her nose.
“Seriously, you don’t? Okay, then, how about a pig’s ear?”
“Miss Julie, are you teasing me?”
Julie plopped onto the couch next to the young girl. “Shoot, no. I love a good pig’s ear. How about you, Brenna?”
“Oh, yeah. Yum-yum.”
“Now I’m know you’re teasing me.” Molly pinched her mother’s arm and grinned at Julie. “Can we have pepperoni? And double cheese?”
“Well, okay. We’ll have it your way. Pepperoni’s not as good as pig’s ear, but I’ll give it a try just for you.”
She punched in the speed dial to her favorite pizza delivery restaurant. Once she was sure Brenna and Molly were safe and comfortable, she planned on making a much-needed trip tomorrow. Randall’s appearance couldn’t be forgotten. Someone, somewhere had slipped up and given out the shelter’s information, and she was damn determined to find out who.
* * * *
Micah McKnight loved soaring through the warm current running above the San Antonio landscape. Hidden by the cloaking skill all dragons were born with, he still made certain not to dip too low. If a human stared into the sky hard enough, at just the right spot, he could see the dragon’s outline, like ripples against the blackness. Fortunately, the moon wasn’t full, and clouds provided more coverage.
“Why the hell are you going so fucking slow?”
Micah heard the telepathic talk of his friend and ducked his head, sensing Ryan was coming up underneath him. Ryan Draper, a Talasium dragon with blue scales and silver eyes, zipped past him, almost skimming the bottom of Micah’s stomach. Micah was an Emeralian dragon, and his scales were greenish-brown, the two horns on his head were black, and his tail came to a simple point without the odd arrow shape of Ryan’s tail.
Where’s the fire?
Ryan was always in a hurry when flying. Micah could understand why. As a police detective, Ryan needed to fly fast. It helped him de-stress from his job.
Ryan’s long tail whipped up then down in front of Micah. “No fire. But I’m not an old man, either. You slow down anymore and you’ll be flying in one place.”
In human form, Micah appeared to be thirty-six. As a dragon, he was nine hundred years old. Bullshit. I’m only fifty years older than you.
“Maybe so, but you act like you’re a thousand years older.” Ryan flapped his wings, driving the air beneath them and soared higher.
Micah took off after him, enjoying the chase. What about that girl you took out the other night? Was she any good?
As dragons, they dated to have fun. Once the dating stopped and dragons took a woman to mate, they’d begin to age as their human counterparts would until, at last, immortality failed and death finally came. Many dragons refused to mate in order to survive. Yet as far as he, Ryan, and their friend Dane Nielson were concerned, life without a mate had grown dreary and far too lonely. They ached to find a woman they could share. Finding such a woman, however, was almost impossible. What woman could handle the three of them as men, much less as dragons?
“I didn’t fuck her.”
Why the hell not? Not mating is one thing. Not having sex is plain-ass stupid.
“Because she was a girl, not a woman.”
She didn’t look like a girl. What was she? Jailbait?
“Of course not. Her intelligence didn’t match her woman’s body, that’s all. Unlike you, I don’t fuck anything that moves.”
Damn. He’d hoped Ryan had found someone for them at last. As a red Verian dragon, Dane was even less likely to find a woman they’d all want. Although he was outgoing and personable, he ran the ranch they co-owned, and rarely made it into San Antonio to meet any eligible women. Although Micah kept the ranch’s books and finances, he kept an office in town where he did his day trading in investments. He and Ryan left most of the ranch duties to Dane, yet helped out whenever they could.
“Let’s get back to the ranch.”
Why so soon? Worried about Dane feeling left out?
“Nah. But why rub it in? We’ve been gone a while.”
He’s a Verian. He should be used to it by now.
Ryan laughed. “Bullshit. Verians have been jealous of our clans for ages. He’s no different than the rest of them.”
Ryan didn’t mean it as harshly as it had sounded. They each came from one of the dragon clans that kept their main home in Las Vegas. Even though the clans had come together recently, trying to put aside their differences, there was still tension between them. It didn’t help that the fourth clan, the Dradian dragons, had stayed separate from the others, vowing to keep the old rivalries going.
As much as they’d wanted to stay in Vegas with the rest of their kind, the three friends had wanted their own ranch even more. Being friends back home had been difficult, nearly impossible, with the strife between the clans, so it had made sense to move. They’d visited several cities but had fallen in love with the culture and vibrancy of San Antonio.
As a seven-hundred-fifty-year-old Verian dragon, Dane didn’t have wings. No Verian did. Although Dane rarely mentioned anything about his inability to fly, Micah knew his friend would’ve loved to shift and take to the air. Micah couldn’t imagine being unable to fly.
Yeah, you’re right. Why rub it in?
Longingly, he glanced at the San Antonio River Walk beneath him, then tilted to the left, and headed toward the Flying D Ranch.
* * * *
“Draper, get out to the front desk. There’s a crazy woman giving Dawson hell.”
Ryan
frowned at Captain Namen. “Since when do detectives handle walk-ins?”
He’d done his time as a uniformed patrolman. One of the perks of moving up in the ranks was not having to deal with every nutcase that walked in off the street.
“Since I said so. Get your ass moving.” Captain Namen arched an eyebrow, daring Ryan to push the issue then closed his office door.
Ryan had learned a long time ago which battles to fight. This wasn’t one of them. Groaning, he got to his feet, picked up his coffee cup, and left his office—a tiny glassed-in room next to the captain’s larger one—and headed for the front desk in the lobby.
He was still in the hallway leading to the foyer when he first heard her. Aw, shit.
“I need to speak with the captain or whoever is in charge around here. This is a very important matter.”
“Ma’am, like I told you a minute ago, I buzzed the captain already. He’s sending someone out.”
“When? When hell freezes over?”
Ryan stopped and hung his head. Looked like his day was already fucked up. Better to just get it over with.
Taking a long sip of his coffee and wishing there was something stronger in it, he stepped into the foyer. As usual, a vast array of people waited for their turn. Some were there to bail a friend or family member out. Others had shown up to lodge a complaint—often about the police—or to check on the status of a case. They ranged from teenagers to senior citizens and were from all backgrounds and ethnicities.
But none of them looked like the beautiful woman standing in front of the reception desk, her hands fisted on her hips.
He studied her, unwilling to believe the angry voice he’d heard belonged to such a sexy creature. His trained mind clicked off her vital statistics.
