The Savior: COLTER (Cover Six Security Book 6)

by Lisa B. Kamps

  "You sure?"

  "I'm sure."

  "Well, I hope you're wrong."

  "Why is that?"

  "Because. If things get serious between the two of you, you won't leave. Maybe it's selfish of me, but I'd love to have my best friend back here. I've missed you."

  "I've missed you, too." Allison reached out and snagged the backpack from Hannah. "And who's to say I won't stay anyway?"

  "You think you might?"

  "Maybe. I really like what I'm doing here, Hannah. I feel like I'm making a difference. A real difference. For the first time, I'm actually thinking long term. And Linda is great to work with. I've learned so much from her."

  "And Linda is—?"

  "Linda Chapman. She runs Forging Change. She's strong. Fierce. Capable. And she's a survivor."

  "I'd love to meet her."

  "You will." Allison tossed the pack over her shoulder and moved toward the door. "I need to stop by there before we head to your place, let her know what happened. I left a message yesterday but I still want to see her."

  "We're supposed to go straight home."

  "And we will—right after we stop by to see Linda. Don't worry, we have to go right by the place. Ryder will never know."

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shonda curled into a ball, huddling deeper into the jacket for warmth. She wished the jacket was heavier, one of those nice thick ones that came down past her knees like she saw the other women wear as they walked around the Inner Harbor. She closed her eyes, imagined slipping her arms into the sleeves of one of those coats. The material would be soft and hug her body and she'd wrap it around her then twirl like some fancy model. And she'd have a scarf, too, one of those long fuzzy ones that tickled her chin when she wrapped it around her neck, and matching gloves lined with the same fuzzy stuff that would keep her fingers warm.

  But she didn't have gloves. Or a scarf. The last time she'd had either was when Grandma had been alive and that was way back when she'd been a little girl, so long ago she could barely even remember what her grandma looked like. And then Grandma had gone up to Heaven and her momma had taken her back and given her to Mr. Bug and nothing had been the same ever since.

  She shifted against the cold ground and yanked the thin jacket down over her back. The too-small jacket had ridden up and the bark of the tree she was leaning against scraped her bare back. Yanking it down wouldn't help, not for long, because it would ride back up again and she'd be doing the same thing all over again. But for now, anyway, her back was covered, the scabs protected from the itchy bark.

  Shonda tilted her head back and stared at the gray sky, wondering if it was going to snow. She liked the snow, and how it turned everything white and clean and soft. The snow made her think of those silly stories her Grandma used to tell her, about fairies and witches and great big castles made of ice. When it snowed like that, with big fluffy flakes, she could almost pretend that she was in one of Grandma's stories.

  But then the snow would get dirty from all the cars and turn an ugly gray, and her time of pretending would end. It was stupid to pretend, anyway. She wasn't a little kid anymore, she knew better.

  Besides, the snow would only make it colder and then she'd be miserable because her feet would get all wet. She didn't have anywhere to go to get warm, not unless she went back to Trey's place.

  She wasn't going back. Not now, not ever again. It could snow all the way up past the steps of the rowhomes and she wouldn't go back. She'd rather die.

  Part of her thought she just might.

  She wasn't safe. Trey was looking for her. Was Mr. Bug? Maybe. He didn't like being crossed and hated it even more when one of his girls did something stupid—and running away was definitely stupid. Nadia had run away once and he'd killed her. Shonda remembered seeing her friend's lifeless body on the floor, her beautiful golden hair dirty and matted with blood. Her gray eyes had been wide open and there had been something so frightful in them that Shonda had cried out. Making that noise had been stupid because Mr. Bug had looked at her and smiled and asked her if she wanted to know what he'd done to Nadia.

  She didn't want to know, not the details. But he'd told her anyway, had told all of them. And then he'd said the same thing would happen to them if they were stupid like Nadia had been.

  Shonda's stomach twisted and rolled and she leaned to the side, sucked in deep breaths of cold air to keep from throwing up. She didn't have enough food in her stomach and all she'd do was heave and she hated that, hated the way it made her feel, like her whole stomach was being ripped out through her throat. The sensation passed and she closed her eyes, leaned back against the tree and tried not to cry. Crying was for babies and she wasn't a baby.

  But she wasn't a woman, either, no matter how much the men liked to tell her she was. And she was scared. So scared.

  Because she had been stupid, like Nadia had been stupid.

  But she had to do it, had to leave. Seeing Nadia like that, with her beautiful face swollen and bruised and her empty gray eyes staring up at nothing, had scared her. So had the look in Mr. Bug's eyes when he had asked Shonda all those questions about the nice woman who had given her the hat. She hadn't wanted to answer them, hadn't wanted to tell him where the woman worked, but she did because nobody said no to Mr. Bug.

  But she couldn't stay, not anymore.

  So instead of going to work, she had kept walking, her legs moving faster and faster until she was almost running, convinced that Trey would be right behind her. The thought of Trey catching her had scared her so bad that she'd kept on moving and now she was hiding here in the park, blocks away from where she was supposed to be. But she wasn't any safer here because bad things happened in the park, too.

  She wished she had gone with that other lady when she had the chance. Miss Allison—the one Mr. Bug had asked all the questions about. But she hadn't because there was no way Miss Allison had been telling the truth when she told Shonda she wanted to help her, even if she had given her that fancy card with the name of where she worked on it. Why would anyone want to help her? She was a nobody. Worthless. Hadn't Trey told her that, at least a hundred times? And Mr. Bug, too.

  Because the men with all the money didn't want her anymore. She was too old, the same way her friends were too old now.

  But Miss Allison had found her a few more times, had kept asking her to go with her. Kept promising she would help. Shonda had told herself that if the lady found her one more time, she'd go. And she had found her again, that night the man had offered her money to answer his questions. She hadn't trusted him—no way would he give her that much money just for answering questions—but there'd been something different about him. Different enough that she decided to accept his offer and told herself she wouldn't get upset if he unzipped his pants later. But then Miss Allison was there, yelling at her to run, and Shonda had seen Weasel standing there with a knife. Weasel was almost as bad as Trey so she'd done what Miss Allison had said and ran.

  Trey hadn't been happy about that—or about what had happened to Weasel later. Something had even happened to Reggie and one of the other girls had said she'd heard that someone had hurt him bad. Shonda didn't know what to believe anymore and had decided that Miss Allison was probably as bad as everyone else.

  Only now, she wondered if maybe she'd been wrong. Maybe Miss Allison really did want to help her. She'd given her the nice pink hat, that very first time she'd seen her. She wouldn't have done that if she didn't want to help.

  Shonda pushed to her feet, wincing when her scabbed back scraped against the tree. She couldn't stay here anymore, she had to keep walking, find another place to hide. She might even have to work again because she needed money, just a little bit because she needed something to eat.

  But maybe she'd find Miss Allison first. If she did, Shonda might go with her this time.

  Because she didn't want to end up like her best friend. She'd be a hundred times safer with Miss Allison than she would if Mr. Bug found her. If he fo
und her, she'd be as dead as Nadia.

  Chapter Twenty

  Allison held the door for Hannah then pushed it closed, waiting for the sound of the small click of the automatic lock before turning around. She swept one hand out in a grand gesture. "Welcome to Forging Change."

  Hannah studied the small office, the cluster of desks littered with files and paperwork, the aging computers and jammed bookshelves. "It looks like complete chaos. I love it!"

  "Controlled chaos but yeah, you're right." Allison shrugged out of her coat and draped it over her chair. "This is where most of the work is done. The rest of the place is a little more organized. There's a small conference room, a living room and dining room, and a small kitchen."

  "Do the women actually live here?"

  "Some do, if we can't find anyplace else for them. We have room for six but Linda won't turn anyone away if there's a need. The bedrooms and bathrooms are upstairs, along with another room that serves as a library and study room."

  "This place is bigger than it looks." Hannah moved toward the swinging door that separated the office from the rest of the house and opened it enough to peek through it. "I would have had no idea that it's not exactly what it looks if you hadn't told me."

  "That's part of the reason there isn't any signage. We're not completely anonymous, of course. Linda will host donors who are interested in providing financial aid, or meet with local politicians and even business owners for education and possible partnerships."

  "So this isn't a shelter?"

  "No, it's not set up that way. Linda has arrangements with another organization just north of here to help with anyone who might be in physical danger."

  "Then what is it you do?"

  Allison slid into her chair and curled one leg under her, then motioned to another chair for Hannah. "Education. Counseling. Relocation. We can match the women up with various services they might need, anything to help them get back on their feet and on the road to independence. That can be anything from teaching them basic skills like filling out a job application to learning how to shop or cook a basic meal."

  "Who handles that?"

  "Different volunteers. And we're always looking for more."

  "Is that a hint?"

  Allison leaned back, a feigned look of shock on her face. "Me? Hint? Now why would I do that? No, that was a flat-out request. If you're interested, I mean."

  "Maybe. It sounds interesting." A small frown creased Hannah's forehead. "As long as you're not looking for someone to teach the finer points of cooking, I mean."

  "Don't worry—we're trying to help them, not poison them, remember?"

  "Hey! I'm not that bad. And nobody has ever gotten sick from anything I've cooked."

  "Probably because they can't eat it."

  "I've gotten better." Hannah laughed then rolled her eyes. "Okay, maybe not much better. Thank God Ryder can cook or we'd both be eating too much takeout. And speaking of Ryder—"

  "I know, I know. We need to get going. Let me find Linda first because I really want you to meet her."

  Hannah shot a pointed look around the empty office. "Is she even here?"

  "I saw her car out front so yeah." Allison pushed to her feet then slid the chair under the desk. "Let me go check, she might be upstairs."

  She spun around, ready to push through the swinging door, and almost collided with it as someone pushed from the other side. Allison stumbled back, caught herself at the last minute and tried to act like she hadn't almost fallen when Linda stepped into the room, a man right behind her.

  "Allison! I'm so sorry. I had no idea you were here. Are you okay?"

  "I'm fine. My fault. I should have called and—"

  "No, I mean—are you okay? I heard what happened the other night."

  "Oh. That." Allison shifted, glanced at Hannah then turned back to Linda. "I'm fine. I left you a message. Didn't you get it?"

  "I did but listening to a message isn't the same as seeing you for myself." Linda pulled her into a warm hug then quickly stepped back. "I was so worried. I really wish you'd get a cell phone. Not being able to call and check on you was nerve-wracking."

  "Did something happen?" The man spoke, his voice rich and warm and mildly curious. He still stood in the doorway, watching them with hazel eyes that reflected the same mild curiosity in his voice. He was about six feet tall, well-dressed in an expensive suit tailored for his lean build. Everything about him, from the suit to the thin gold watch encircling his wrist, spoke of money and influence. There was something vaguely familiar about him but Allison couldn't figure out what it was.

  "Just an accident." Linda looped her arm through Allison's and pulled her closer. "Allison, this is Lawrence Crocker. He's interested in donating to Forging Change, and is even looking at the possibility of providing placements for some of our clients."

  Lawrence Crocker. Recognition clicked as soon as Allison heard the name. She hadn't been in Baltimore very long but she was familiar with him. He was a businessman with assorted interests, a well-known sponsor of various organizations, and extremely well-connected politically, at least on the local level.

  Allison stepped forward and extended her arm. The hand that closed over hers was warm and firm and professional despite the flare of interest she saw in his warm eyes. "Pleasure to meet you, Allison."

  "Allison has been a godsend. I don't know what I would have done without her these last few months." Linda offered her a maternal smile filled with such appreciation that Allison's face warmed. "She hasn't hesitated at all to put herself on the front lines, doing whatever she can to help our clients."

  The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile as he met Allison's gaze again. "That's heartening to hear. Dedication is so important, and something so hard to find these days." His gaze shifted to Hannah, who had been standing off to the side, close to the door.

  Allison quickly stepped forward, snagged Hannah's arm and pulled her closer. "I'm so sorry, I should have made the introductions. This is my friend that I told you about. Hannah Mont—I mean, Hess. Hannah, meet Linda and, uh, Mr. Crocker."

  "Please, call me Lawrence." He stepped forward, shook Hannah's hand, then moved toward the door. "I'll let you ladies get on with your day. Ms. Chapman, I'll be in touch to discuss how we can move forward."

  "I'm looking forward to it." Linda reached around her desk and pressed the small button to unlock the door. As soon as Mr. Crocker left, she spun around and pulled Allison into another hug with an uncharacteristic squeal of joy that made Allison laugh.

  "This is good news, I take it?"

  "The best. Oh, Allison, he seemed genuinely interested and moved by what we're doing here. We would be able to do so much more with his help and he certainly has the connections to make it possible."

  "Then I'll keep my fingers crossed."

  "And toes. I'm just so glad he reached out to us the way he did. That has to be a good sign." Linda stepped back, her eyes shining with happiness and a hint of tears. "I have a feeling our luck is finally changing."

  Chapter Twenty-One

  "This is a waste of time."

  Colter tightened his hands around the steering wheel, wishing it was Ox's neck instead. He wanted to ask the man since when he'd become such a pessimist but he didn't—

  Mostly because he was starting to agree with him. What they were doing was a waste of time. What the hell had Colter been thinking? That they'd check out all the addresses on that damn printout and find a car with a bullet hole or two in it?

  Yeah, right.

  Colter wasn't even sure he'd hit the car the other night. The passenger window, yes, without a doubt. But the car itself? He wasn't sure. He thought he had but he had to admit—to himself at least—that he hadn't been paying as much attention as he should have been. His focus had been on reaching Allison, worrying that he wouldn't get there in time.

  Worrying about what he'd find when he did.

  Fuck.

  He never wanted to go through anything li
ke that again. Ever. He'd been shot at before but that was a fucking picnic compared to what he'd experienced the other night. Gut-clenching fear had left him chilled and shaking. And when he saw Allison slumped over the seat he'd thought, for the space of one agonizing heartbeat, that he'd been too late. The wave of rage and fury and grief had been suffocating, damn near paralyzing him. The relief that had washed over him when he realized she wasn't hurt was just as powerful.

  And so was his need for retribution.

  In order to have that, he needed to find out what the hell was going on first. Find out who the hell was after Allison.

  So yeah, maybe driving around this damn city was a waste of fucking time, but he had no idea what the hell else to do for now.

  He turned at the light and drove up the next block, looking at the house numbers as they passed each one. The houses here were older, as stately and prosperous now as they had been more than a century ago. This neighborhood was only a few miles away from where he'd first seen Allison over a week ago, but it may as well have been in its own universe for all the differences between them.

  "You really think we're going to find that car here?"

  Colter glanced over at Ox and frowned. "It's on the list, isn't it?"

  "Yeah, but—whatever." Ox looked out the window, studying that side of the street as intently as Colter studied his. "How much you think these things go for?"

  "More than I can afford."

  "No shit. But how much?"

  "No idea. A couple million, at least."

  "That much?"

  "Probably."

  "You'd think for that much, they wouldn't have to park on the damn street."

  "You'd think." Colter slowed down, studying each car as they neared the right house number.

  "My side." Ox shifted in his seat then blew out a disgusted sigh. "I thought Boomer said he narrowed these down to match the description you had."