Chapter One
RANDA CAME AWAKE with a surge of adrenaline at the frantic female voice in her ear. She rolled off her bed in the opposite direction, slapping her hand against the wall and barely catching herself from faceplanting.
With a tap of her finger, she turned on the bedside lamp, then whirled and froze at the ghostly apparition hovering next to her bed—the friend who’d been murdered months ago!
“Becca?!” Randa gasped. What the hell? She shook her head and would’ve thought she was dreaming if not for the pain in her hand from hitting the wall. She stared wide-eyed at the ethereal image, opening her mouth but unable to utter a word past her tight throat. The look of panic on her friend’s sweet face, the urgency in her voice—the sudden chill permeating the room—unfroze and focused Randa in a way nothing else could, convincing her this was as real as it could get.
“Hurry, he’s broken in! Joy is in danger!”
Becca’s entreaty galvanized Randa. She’d wonder at a later time how her dead friend had managed to materialize, deciding to go with it and attempt to get answers.
“Where, at the shelter?” Randa asked. She rushed to get dressed, not waiting for an answer, knowing the only thing that could pull Becca’s spirit back into the physical world was a woman in danger. Even one her deceased friend had never met.
“Yes! He’s injured both of them, Hayleah and Joy. And the baby is in danger. Hurry Randa!”
Already in a silky camisole and boy-short panties, Randa grabbed the leggings she’d discarded at the foot of her bed the night before and quickly pulled them on, then snatched her cell phone off the nightstand, hitting the speed dial for Leah, the shelter’s other director, and her closest—living—friend.
Leah was currently filling in as on-site night manager until they replaced the woman who’d recently moved away. Alarm spiked when the phone rang three times, then dropped into voicemail.
She hit end without leaving a message, tucked her phone into a legging pocket and pivoted to sprint for the living room. God! She hoped Leah had locked herself behind the steel door in the office and Jessup hadn’t severely injured her—or worse.
As she scrunched her feet into her running shoes, she grabbed her backpack and keys off the side table and ran out the door, thumbing the fob to unlock her SUV.
Her skin prickled with goosebumps, a shiver wracking her body as fear filled her and cold fog from the ocean enveloped her. She wrenched open the door, slid inside and pressed the button to start her Outback Wilderness.
Tires squealed when she backed out of her driveway, rubber chirping again as she cranked the wheel before shooting down the street, thankful for no traffic this early in the morning.
Her heart pounded at the thought of Joy’s violent husband Jessup hurting the woman, her child or Hayleah—or anyone at the shelter. That place was supposed to be a haven for battered women and children, and she’d been sure no one was aware of its location. Who or what had exposed them?
Joy’s husband was the second violent man in six months to discover their shelter’s locations. Randa and Leah had actually moved everyone to the current facility after Becca’s murder, not willing to take a chance the woman’s boyfriend had mentioned the location to anyone before, or after, the state incarcerated him. Now a violent spouse had somehow discovered their current location! Definitely needed to look into that.
She fumbled for her phone to call Garran, even though he was an unknown. He’d moved to Beacon Bay to take the top-dog position in their small police department six months ago. She didn’t really know him, so didn’t trust him yet. Becca’s boyfriend had been the former police chief, now thankfully in prison serving a life sentence, along with one of his deputies. Queue Garran’s arrival. Suspicion niggled they’d not arrested all the dirty cops on the small force when they’d arrested their former chief. Hence her hesitation in calling this in. She had no clue who’d be working dispatch tonight.
Randa didn’t want to take precious time to stop to make a call, either, since every minute it took to get there could be the difference between life and death. Nor was she willing to risk a wreck attempting to use her phone while driving, so she shoved it back in her legging pocket and continued speeding toward the shelter.
White-knuckling the steering wheel, she pressed harder on the gas pedal, causing the sporty Outback to practically leap forward as she hit seventy-five on the frontage road that bypassed downtown, fervently hoping she arrived in time to prevent disaster.
The turnoff to the shelter loomed ahead, and she tapped her brakes to make a right onto the two-lane road without tipping, then snaked through the trees for an eighth of a mile before a small clearing appeared with what looked to be nothing more than a moderate-sized warehouse at the end.
They’d remodeled the inside to resemble a single-story motel, and had chosen the warehouse because she’d not wanted anyone to realize they housed—were hiding—women and children within the walls.
To hell with stealth. Skidding to a stop at the front door, she hit the panic button on her car to blare the alarm, hoping to distract and derail whatever Jessup was up to.
At the very least, she wanted Leah and Joy to know she’d arrived, ready to kick-ass to protect them—to save them. She hoped to god her Muay Thai training helped her deal with whatever she found inside.
Becca’s ghostly voice whispered in her ear, urging her to hurry as she flung the vehicle’s door open, leapt out and hit the ground at a sprint.
Shouts echoed through the main entryway into the clearing, the door barely hanging by one hinge. Randa dashed through the opening, horrified by the tragic scene before her.
“Where is it, bitch! I know you took it!” Jessup shouted as he straddled his wife on the far floor.
She saw Joy’s daughter Zarin sitting on her diapered butt just a couple yards away from Jessup, rocking and crying. Stark fear he would turn on the child ramped Randa’s adrenaline.
Leah caught her attention, swaying on her feet across the room, relief flashing through her dark eyes when they landed on Randa. One of the baseball bats they kept laying around the room as handy weapons dangled from Leah’s right hand, and blood dripped from a long slice on her other forearm. Fear for her friend, for Joy, for the child, swamped Randa.
“Leah, get in the office and lock the door! Hit the residents’ alarm and call 911!”
Protocol was to get behind that steel-plated office door, call the cops and hunker down if their safety was ever in question. But Leah was just like Randa—a defender to the core of these women and children. No way would she have huddled in safety when Joy and Zarin were in danger, but now that Randa was here, her friend could get to safety and call for help.
Jessup still straddled Joy, seemingly oblivious to Randa’s arrival, or the threat Leah posed with that bat. The bastard’s meaty hands were wrapped tightly around Joy’s throat, his enraged face beet-red as he shouted, “I’ll teach you! Where is it, where is it?”
Thankfully the other women and children were staying put behind the second steel door separating the main room from the actual housing units. The alarm would be an additional warning for them to lock themselves in their rooms to remain safe until Garran could throw this son of a bitch in jail.
Randa’s neck corded when she let loose a yell of pure rage before sprinting across the room, dropping to the hardwood floor in a slide on her knees just before reaching the bastard and threw a kidney punch, her full body weight behind it.
Jessup roared when her fist hit flesh, twisting to meet the threat. She jumped to her feet, then dipped in to slap both palms hard against his ears, trepidation filling her when he didn’t flinch at the pain. Is he on drugs?
Instead of being incapacitated by the kidney-punch or blow to his ears, the asshole was just pissed at her. That’s it, you bastard. Target me, be mad at me, not Joy.
Damn! He had to be on something to withstand the pain. Any stimulant, along with the liquor she was sure he’d consumed—he reeked of alcohol—could make him impervious to pain or injury. More aggressive.
He shot a glare her way, murder in his bloodshot eyes. “Fucking bitch! You’re the one putting wild ideas in her head. Wouldn’t have had to teach her a lesson but for you. Wouldn’t a had to look for what she took. When I’m done with Joy, it’ll be your turn to learn your place.”
No way in hell was Randa letting this man hurt Joy any more than he already had, although a glance at the young woman sent a pang through her. She feared it was too late.
As he turned back to his wife, his hands again reaching for Joy’s neck, Randa jumped to her feet at his side, then executed a switch kick to his temple.
His roar sounded like a lion ready to take off her head, but instead of coming after her or being knocked off Joy as she’d hoped, he reached down—and holy god—grinned evilly before he muttered, “Huh. Bitch is already dead. Guess she done learned her lesson.”
Shocked into stillness, Randa could do nothing but stare at Joy’s beautiful, sightless eyes until Jessup rose, turned and lunged for her.
Randa dodged, turned on one leg and swept a low kick against his shins, pain ricocheting through her leg as he landed on his ass. Her heart skipped a beat when he twisted, reaching for the baby girl.
No fucking way! Randa would not let him lay one sadistic hand on that child. With a feral cry, she jumped on his back, grabbed a handful of greasy, lanky hair with one hand, his jaw with the other and gave a mighty jerk to the side, only to have him retaliate by flipping them over, crushing her under his considerable weight, then straddling her like he had with Joy.
He tightened his hands around her throat, and panic hit when black spots filled her vision as she fought to stay conscious, knowing if she passed out, she’d be dead. Desperate to get away, she reached down, grabbing a handful of his junk, squeezing and twisting with all her might.
“Fucking bitch!” He jerked back, tumbling off her with a roar, his hand blessedly leaving her tortured throat to clutch at his abused cock and balls. When he rose to a crouch still clutching his crotch, she took advantage of her reprieve, tucking both legs close to her body before kicking out, her sneakers connecting solidly with his chest and knocking him back on his ass.
She flipped over, crab-crawling to the child now wailing like a banshee, then stretched to grab the baseball bat Leah had dropped. When he lunged for her again, she fell to her side, swinging one-handed with all her might, gratified when the bat connected solidly on his jaw with a resounding crack of bone.
“Fuuuuck!”
His roar of pain echoed in the room, but she wasn’t going to wait around to see if he stayed down.
Jumping to her feet with the baby in her arms, Randa pivoted to run for the safety of the office. A cry escaped when his fingers wrapped around her ankle, pitching her forward. How could he still come after me after a baseball bat to the face and pulverized junk?
With a twist in midair to protect the child when she fell, she kicked out, her sneaker catching him in the same jaw the bat had bashed. She was saved when his fingers slipped from her ankle and he grunted in pain. Luckily the extra padding on her ass provided some protection when she landed and bounced, Zarin still safely clutched to her breast, provided protection.
She rolled to her side to get up, her head snapping around when an inhuman snarl came from the open door, heralding an enormous, tawny-brown wolf leaping the distance to where the man lay. Her first thought was ‘what the fuck now?’, and then a litany of ‘holy shits’ and ‘oh my gods’ filled her head.
The animal stood at least three feet at the shoulder, with an abnormally wide chest and long snout rimmed with razor sharp teeth. She almost cried in relief to realize the animal was protecting her and the baby, snarling and snapping at Jessup, continuing to growl menacingly as it started backing toward her.
She gritted her teeth at the pain and dizziness swamping her as she stumbled to her feet, wavering when she tried to find her balance. The wolf bumped its hindquarters into her legs as it backed and herded her toward the office, and she trusted the animal to keep Jessup at bay, turning and hustling best she could toward the door.
Afraid Jessup would somehow get past the wolf, Randa glanced over her shoulder, thankful to see Jessup’s injuries and the snarling mouth full of sharp teeth kept him on his ass as she and her new protector reached the office door. She turned toward the office just as Leah swung the door open, grabbed her biceps and jerked her inside.
Her friend would have slammed the door behind them, but no way would Randa leave her furry guardian at the mercy of Jessup or the cops when they showed.
Randa’s hand shot out to hold the door open, handed Zarin off to Leah, and made kissing noises at the wolf. Amber eyes snapped around to hers and the animal leapt through the door, Randa slamming, then locking it. When she turned toward her desk, she stumbled and would have fallen if the wolf hadn’t pressed against her thigh before tucking its massive head under her hand. Between Leah shoving a chair under her butt and the four-legged bodyguard, she landed hard on the seat instead of the floor, then dropped her head between her legs to keep from passing out.
Guttural cursing and the scrape of uneven footsteps coming through the computer speakers had Randa carefully raising her head and rolling to the desk to peer at the security monitor. They watched as Jessup stumbled across the great room, pausing just outside the office door.
Although garbled by the injury to his jaw, his words were clear as day. “I’ll get you, you fucking bitch, when no one’s around to save your ass. Don’t think this ends it.”
Randa’s fingers paled as she gripped the arms of the chair, the wolf at her side giving a deep-throated growl. They watched Jessup displayed in a square frame on the monitor as he limped out of the shelter before appearing on a second frame, picked up by the outside camera.
He glanced around furtively before stopping at the hood of her SUV. Her hand shaking, Randa grabbed the fob from her yoga pant pocket and hit the button to blare the vehicle’s alarm again, taking great pleasure when Jessup jumped a foot before pounding his fist on the hood.
At the wail of distant sirens through the outside webcam speakers, they watched Jessup swivel wide-eyed toward the lane, stumble, then jog toward the treeline, one hand clutching his jaw. She hoped she’d broken the fucker’s face. Randa felt torn between wanting the bastard gone from the shelter and wishing him still here when the cops arrived.
Leah turned toward Randa, patting Zarin’s back as the child continued to shudder and sniffle, the blood-soaked scarf wrapped and tied off around Leah’s forearm a stark reminder she’d suffered an injury too.
“That must be Garran on the way,” Leah said in a shaky voice. “I called 911 and Frieda at dispatch said they’d send everyone they could. Honey, your poor throat. Can you swallow okay?”
Randa gingerly touched the front of her neck and swallowed painfully, looking her friend up and down. “It hurts, but I can swallow okay, Leah. Having your arm cleaned and stitched is more important. Are you hurt anywhere else? Pull a chair over here and sit with me. And you’ll never believe me when I tell you how I knew you needed help. I hardly believe it myself. Becca warned me.”
“What? But… Becca’s dead!” Hayleah gasped out. “Her ghost warned you? I know Beacon Bay has a reputation for hauntings, but… Becca appeared?”
Randa nodded, tears filling her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I’ve never been visited by a ghost, and you’ve lived here long enough to have heard the stories. She woke me from a sound sleep and scared me right out of my bed. Said Joy’s ex had hurt you and Joy.”
"Holy shit, honey!” Leah exclaimed, then continued in a wistful voice. “I wish she’d visit me so I could tell her goodbye.”
“I know, Leah. I miss her too. You didn’t say, are you injured anywhere else? How bad is that cut on your arm?”
“Don’t you worry, Randa. Just my arm is hurt. The cut isn’t that deep. Rat bastard got me with a small switchblade before I took the bat to him.”
Randa took Leah’s hand and they both held on tight. “I’m so sorry you were cut, but glad you weren’t hurt worse.”
Turning back to the monitor, Randa stared at Joy’s lifeless body, slowly shaking her head in disbelief.
“How on earth did he find us?” Randa asked. “Someone had to have fed him information. But I don’t get how Jessup even knew about this shelter after we moved here. Or how he got inside. It’s Beacon Bay’s best kept secret! Although, I can see how Becca’s ex got to her at the former shelter, since he was the police chief and would’ve had have access to confidential records.”
Leah squeezed Randa’s hand. “I don’t know, honey. And I know that neither of us fully trust Garran yet, but maybe we need to remember he’s new here. Wasn’t part of the corruption. Besides, your brother said he knows and respects him. Just because Garran’s a cop doesn’t mean he’s crooked like Becca’s ex or the deputy they arrested with him. We had no choice but to call the police.”
Randa knew she was unfairly judging the new police chief, thinking him evil like the murderous former chief of police and his deputy. Evil like the man she’d dated in college who’d betrayed her, hurt her, sent her running back home.
It was hard as hell to trust after all that had happened, past and present, and the very reason they set up this shelter. Abused women and children escaping impossible situations. When you grouped everything together, it seemed to show most men were not to be trusted. She knew in her mind that wasn’t true, and that there were abusers of all genders, but her heart sure hadn’t gotten the memo yet.
Hopefully, Jessup would still be in the area when the police arrived and they’d toss his ass in jail. Regardless, they’d have to move all the residents to their other—only and last—location. No way would this place be safe now that Jessup and any of his low-life friends knew the location.
She rarely regretted her fairly solitary existence, with Leah her only close girlfriend, her brother with his daughter and wonderful new wife her only family, but right about now she wished for at least four other big men as BFFs with the same deadly skills as her once-Marine Raider, SPECOPs brother.
One more glance at the monitor left her shocked and saddened to see the lifeless eyes of the woman who had trusted Randa to keep her and her child safe.
As her gaze drifted to other parts of the main room visible on the monitor, Randa’s eyes were drawn to the huge tapestry hung in the middle of the far wall, the colorful thread woven into an uncanny likeness of herself, a huge tawny-brown wolf standing sentry next to her. The very image of the flesh and blood animal by her side.
Prophecy at play? The magic of Beacon Bay making itself known to her?
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