Chapter 24
Bonnie’s fingers flew over the keyboard.
She’d already responded to a million emails today.
A lot of them about donations, but not just the monetary kind.
They needed things like hygiene kits and clothing and bedding.
There was also a baby here, which meant they needed diapers and formula and baby clothes. The list was extensive.
Other emails, like the one she was writing now, were about activities she was planning. She typed out the message to the women’s law center, which would be giving them a Zoom presentation to talk about protective orders and safety planning.
She loved this stuff. Organizing meaningful, helpful activities for women and children in need. It made her feel like she was doing something important and making a small difference.
The smell of food from the Crock-Pot in the kitchen filled the air, and the TV’s background noise filtered down the hall. Even from her office she knew exactly what was on—Bluey, Chett’s favorite.
This morning, she’d arrived to him waiting with a picture he’d drawn, of her and him sitting on Bluey’s porch steps.
She smiled as she glanced at her bag on the floor, the corner of the picture poking from the opening.
Would she have a kid as cute as Chett one day?
A boy with laser-blue eyes flashed in her mind.
She blinked. Where had that come from? It was far too soon to be thinking about kids with Zane. Sure, the last week had been good—no, great. But they were still fairly new.
She’d just hit send on the email when the piercing scream of a child cut through the house, followed by the sound of breaking glass.
Bonnie shot out of her seat and raced down the hall. All the women in the living room were on their feet and staring into the kitchen, where Sarah was crouched in front of Chett, who looked terrified.
Bonnie ran over to them.
“Chett, it’s okay, darling,” Sarah said.
“No! I-I saw…” The little boy’s chest heaved, his face completely devoid of color.
She cupped his cheek. “Baby. Breathe. Tell me what you saw.”
Bonnie glanced out the window, but all she saw was the backyard.
“I saw D-dad,” Chett whispered, the words so quiet that Bonnie almost missed them.
Sarah flinched, and for a moment was completely still. Then she shook her head. “No. That’s not possible. He’s in prison.”
“I saw him!”
As Sarah spoke to her son, Bonnie inched around them, taking slow steps toward the kitchen window. She scanned the yard. The bushes. The trees. The fence that bordered the property.
He couldn’t have seen his father. Even if the guy had somehow gotten out of prison, the gate was coded. He couldn’t get in here.
She was about to turn away when she saw it—a flash of orange from behind a tree.
She stumbled back.
“Get upstairs.” Her words were quiet.
Sarah heard them. She rose, face paling. “What?”
“Get upstairs,” she repeated, louder now, almost yelling as she glanced at the women. “Everyone. Now.”
The last bit of color drained from Sarah’s face. “He…he’s really here?”
Bonnie gripped Sarah’s shoulders. “I’m not sure. Maybe. I need you to take Chett upstairs, and all of you, lock yourselves in the bedrooms. As quickly as you can.”
Another woman stepped forward. “What about you?”
“I’m going to make sure no one gets inside this house. Go. Now.”
Sarah gave her one more scared look before lifting Chett and following the women upstairs.
Bonnie’s heart thundered as she raced to the shelter phone. Shelley had left early today, which meant, for the first time since starting here, it was just her. She was the only staff member in the house.
Her fingers shook as she typed in her cousin’s number.
Jesse took so long to answer, she thought he wasn’t going to. Fear bled into her body, making her knees tremble.
She was about to hang up when—
“Bonnie, now’s not a good time.”
“I need you to get to the shelter as soon as you can.” She raced to the back door and checked the handle. Locked. Good. She put on the safety chain.
“Why?” Jesse’s voice shifted to one of urgency. “What’s wrong?”
“Sarah Parlor, one of the women here, has an ex who’s in jail for murder. Her son thinks he saw him, and I just saw someone wearing orange in the yard.”
She sprinted to the front door and checked the handle. Also locked. Again, she pulled the safety chain across just for that extra bit of protection.
Jesse cursed. “I’m coming now, Bonnie. Lock the doors. Stay safe.”
“I will.”
She hung up and ran to the living room window, where she pulled the blackout curtains across.
Stay calm, Bonnie. You’re trained for this. You’ll be okay.
But how did he even get here? The guy was supposed to be in prison, for God’s sake!
He was wearing an orange jumpsuit. That meant he’d escaped, right?
She raced to the first bedroom off the hall, checked the window, then pulled the curtains across.
Then the next. She’d just reached her office when the sight of a tall man in a jumpsuit on the other side of the glass made her screech and fall back.
He had dark hair and a scar on the left side of his face.
She opened her mouth to scream just as he lifted a gun and fired.
She covered her head and dropped to the floor, glass shattering around her.
A ringing sounded in her ears.
Get up, Bonnie. You need to get up.
She forced herself to move. To crawl out of the office and into the hall before stumbling to her feet. But she didn’t run up the stairs. She couldn’t lead him to the women. But she also couldn’t leave the house and desert them.
She sprinted to the kitchen and dove behind the island. She didn’t have a weapon. But all the knives were in drawers, and he’d have heard her rummaging around for them.
Her heart hammered in her throat. It was also a terrible hiding spot. But hiding long term wasn’t her goal. If she heard him head upstairs, she’d have to follow. Or make noise to lure him back. She had to protect Sarah and Chett and everyone else, at all costs.
She closed her eyes, listening for footsteps. And they came. They were loud and heavy, hitting the floorboards in the living room hard.
He was coming. He’d followed her.
Fear wrapped its fingers around her chest, squeezing, making it hard to breathe. But she had to be strong, at least until Jesse arrived.
The footsteps grew closer. Quieter now, but in the silent room, they were still loud. She shifted, only slightly so that she was on her butt and ready to kick.
She saw his foot first and immediately shot her foot into his shin.
He fired, and she cried out as the bullet grazed her right arm. She kicked him again, this time in the knee, sending him to the tiled floor. His head hit the counter on his way down, and the gun flew from his fingers.
She lunged for it, but the man dove on top of her, his body heavy, pressing her to the floor as he reached over her head for the weapon.
Zane sprinted down the street, pushing his body to move as fast as it could, when the shelter finally came into view.
He didn’t have a weapon. He didn’t have the time to stop and get one from The Pit. Those few minutes could cost Bonnie her life.
He didn’t need one. He was a former fucking Army Ranger. A former UFC fighter. He’d brought down a hundred men with just his hands, and anyone who touched a hair on Bonnie’s head was as good as dead.
When he reached the house, the gate was already open but the curtains were drawn, so he couldn’t see inside. He remained low, scanning the grounds.
No one was there.
He tried the front door handle. Locked.
Was that good or bad? Did it mean she was safe inside?
No. The gate shouldn’t be open.
He jogged around the house and tried the back door. Again, it was locked.
Slowly, he crept around the house, checking every window. They were all locked, curtains closed. Until he reached the last one.
His stomach twisted. Glass. It was shattered from the outside.
He leapt inside, glass crunching beneath his feet. As he passed the desk, he grabbed a letter opener. It was sharp and the closest thing he had to a weapon.
He moved slowly down the hall, scanning every room he passed. He was almost done with the hall when a gunshot shattered the quiet.
Zane sprinted through the living room and into the kitchen.
His heart fucking stopped at the sight of the asshole on top of Bonnie.
He lunged, grabbing the fucker by the back of his jumpsuit seconds before he could grab the gun on the floor. Zane threw him into the wall and held the letter opener to his throat.
He froze. It wasn’t Monty. But it was one of the escaped prisoners.
Had Monty sent him after Bonnie?
The guy threw a punch, not seeming to care about the sharp edge against his throat. Zane dodged the hit easily and threw him to the floor.
The guy grunted and rolled, attempting to stand, but Zane dropped to his back and pressed an elbow to his neck. “Move and you’ll never walk again.”
He tried to shove up anyway, and Zane delivered one hard blow to his skull, rendering him unconscious.
Idiot.
The second the guy was out, Zane rushed over to Bonnie, who was now standing by the kitchen counter, chest heaving, pistol in her shaky hands.
Gently, he took the grip of the gun from her fingers and set the weapon on the counter before lightly grabbing her hips. “Are you—” He stopped at the sight of the blood on her arm. “You’re hurt!”
Shit.
He lifted her arm, feet twitching to turn around and kill the guy.
“The bullet grazed me,” she said quietly, eyes only on him. “Are you okay?”
He grabbed a hanging tea towel and wrapped it around her arm. “I’m fine. But we need to get you to a hospital.”
“I have to make sure everyone upstairs is okay.”
Zane cupped her cheek, still studying her, looking for more injuries. If he’d been any later, she might not be here right now. And that fucking killed him. “Do you know who he is?”
“The ex of one of the women here. He’s also the father of her child.”
This attack hadn’t been targeted toward Bonnie. “I thought…”
“You thought what?” She frowned.
Before he could respond, a shuffling noise sounded behind him. He spun just as the prisoner lunged from the floor.
Then a loud bang, and he went down again—a bullet wound in his back and a knife Zane hadn’t noticed dropping from his hold.
Zane’s head whipped to the side. A woman was at the base of the stairs, a pistol in her hands.
“Sarah!” Bonnie gasped.
“He…he was going to stab him,” she whispered.
Bonnie raced over to the woman and took the weapon from her. “Where’d you get this?”
“It…it’s mine.”
Zane leaned down and touched his pulse. Dead.
Banging sounded on the door and Zane hurried toward it, looking through the peephole before opening it to Jesse, Becket, Holden and a deputy.
They all entered, guns raised, only to stop at the sight of the dead felon.
“What happened?” Jesse asked, gun lowering.
Over the next hour, everyone at the shelter spoke to Jesse and the deputy, giving their version of events. Zane stuck to Bonnie’s side the entire time. He needed to talk to Jesse about Monty, but he also needed to get Bonnie to the hospital to have her arm looked at.
Jesse crossed over to him. “How did you know to come here? Did Bonnie call you?”
“I couldn’t get through to Bonnie,” he said quietly. “I was worried. I came here straight from The Tea House.”
“Bonnie?” A woman ran into the house, going straight to Bonnie. “I got your message. Is everyone okay?”
Zane eyed the new woman, wondering if she was Bonnie’s boss. If so…where the hell had she been?
Right now, he didn’t really care. Because if she was here, that meant he could finally take Bonnie to the hospital.
Jesse was called over by one of his deputies, and Zane slipped an arm around Bonnie. “We’re leaving.”
She shook her head. “No, I need to help Shelley find new accommodations for everyone. I need—”
“Bonnie.” He gripped her hips. “You were shot.”
“The bullet barely touched me.”
“We’re going to the hospital.”
“But—”
“We’re going to the hospital. This isn’t up for discussion.”
She rubbed a hand over her pale face before finally nodding. “Okay.”
Thank God. With her tucked close to his side, he grabbed her bag and headed toward her car.
He scanned the area, so fucking aware that even though this time it hadn’t been Monty, the next time, it might be.