Page 9

Chapter Eight

S am sat at her conference table only half-listening to the early morning meeting with a new client.

Luke and Hank were also there, getting details.

Her mind kept wandering to Claire and wondering how she was doing.

The more she thought about Claire, the more worried she became.

The woman was barely holding herself together, and after Keith had shown up last night looking for her, it was all Sam and Mark could do to convince Claire to stay the night at the house.

Keith had been pleasant enough, polite enough to not accuse Mark of hiding Claire.

He was a decent-looking man, short blond hair, expensive suit, and expensive shoes.

He had an air about him that said, “I’m a big deal.

” Even from her position in the kitchen, she could see his eyes.

Predatory eyes—eyes that promised violence if you got in his way.

Sam sensed that Keith knew Claire was there and would be biding his time.

Something had to be done to protect Claire. But what?

She knew men like Keith. Hell, she dealt with men like Keith.

Bullies who hurt women or worse. Her work at the shelter and interacting with the women living there had been a reality check.

The world wasn’t a great big happy bubble.

There was always something or someone around to pop it.

Keith wouldn’t stop until he found Claire.

He’d hurt her before. Stood to reason her life was in danger now.

Sam made up her mind. She didn’t own a security company for nothing.

Claire wasn’t going to be alone. Sam’s mission was always to help the disadvantaged and helpless—to help them get on their feet and empower them.

KnightGuard Security would protect Claire until she got things sorted out.

That is, if Claire would let them. Claire had a lot of pride.

Sam knew Claire didn’t have any money and wouldn’t like accepting help, but this wasn’t charity. She was family.

Sam made her excuses to the client and asked Luke to take over.

Luke was more than capable of handling anything the client needed.

He cocked his brow but nodded. She got in her car and drove to Mark’s house.

She thought about the different scenarios for helping Claire.

KnightGuard was getting so busy that she was shorthanded.

Going over who might be available, she remembered Joe Harkin would be back the next day, although she was reluctant to ask him because of the last fiasco with an abused woman going through a divorce.

If he said no, she would rearrange her schedule. Claire would be safe.

Bah. First she needed to touch base with Claire, then she would figure out what to do going forward.

Sam parked in Mark’s driveway. She sat in the car and stared at the house and had the feeling she was already too late. She inserted her key and slowly opened the door. When she heard the beep of the alarm, she reset it.

“Claire.”

No answer.

The house was silent, not giving up any secrets.

She shook her head. Damn, Claire was gone.

It didn’t take a genius to know that the woman had run.

Sam checked all the rooms anyhow, calling Claire’s name.

The bed in Claire’s bedroom was made up tighter than a drum.

The place was spotless, as if she had never been there.

Sam walked into the kitchen and spotted a note on the table.

She picked it up, already guessing what it said.

Yup, Claire thanked her and Mark for their help and apologized for bringing trouble to their door.

Disappointment surged through her veins.

Why did Claire think she had to apologize?

The situation wasn’t her fault. Put the blame where it should go—right on Keith’s shoulders. She called Mark.

“Claire’s gone,” she said when Mark answered.

Silence. “Damn it all to hell. Where? When?”

“Don’t know where she’s going. The note said she was visiting a friend in Miami, but I don’t believe it. As to when, I’m guessing just after you left for work.” She crumpled the note. “I don’t think she had much money left. How far could she have gotten? What do you want me to do?”

Silence. Finally, Mark said, “Find her and bring her back.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say. I’ll get protection for her until she decides what to do.”

They hung up. Where to look was the next question. Black Pointe wasn’t a huge city, but it was large enough for someone to get lost in if they wanted to. Was she even still in town? She could only hope. It would make things easier if Claire were.

First things first. Sam called Phil, her IT guy at the firm, and asked him to check the bus station and then the taxi companies.

She knew car rentals and airplane tickets were out.

Claire would need a credit card for them, and she was smart enough not to use them even if she had them with her.

Although Sam suspected she hadn’t, plus, she didn’t have much cash .

Phil promised to call when he had some information. She sat in the living room, waiting. Oh, Claire, why didn’t you trust us to keep you safe? Sam was furious with herself. She knew Claire would run. She should have stayed here last night, convinced Claire not to.

Claire stared into the small mirror. She still had bags under her eyes.

She didn’t need to see her breasts to know they were still tender, the bruises fading.

However, she didn’t look so sad, and that was a positive first step.

She washed her face, dried her hands and prepared herself to walk downstairs.

Her stomach rumbled again, and she hoped there would be an early lunch.

Two women with a couple of small children were sitting at the dining room table.

They looked up when she walked in. Each gave her a tentative smile.

The little ones looked at her with big, wide eyes.

No smiles. She was a stranger. Claire shuddered.

The kids were probably traumatized. Time would help them get better and feel safe—she hoped.

“Hey, grab a sandwich from the kitchen and join us,” said one of the women.

Claire walked into the kitchen and found sandwich fixings, chips, and drinks. She made a sandwich, grabbed a water, walked back into the dining room and sat down.

The women introduced themselves as Joyce and Linda.

“Welcome. It’s a bit overwhelming, but you’ll get used to it,” said the one who had introduced herself as Linda.

Joyce chimed in, “There are a few rules and a”—she made air quotes with her hands—“‘chat session,’ aka therapy, every day.” She smiled.

They talked for a while about jobs and apartments as they ate and were joined by several more women. Penny came in with a sandwich and ate with them.

After cleaning up, Penny motioned to Claire to follow her. “Come into my office, and we can fill in some paperwork and discuss what kind of help you might need.”

Claire nodded.

An hour later, a weight had lifted from her shoulders. She could stay at the shelter until she got a job and was settled. She thanked Penny, picked up a magazine from the table and brought it to her room to read.

The chair was a little uneven, probably a thrift shop find, but she was safe. First things first, she would call Sheri.

Sam waited at Mark’s for a half hour, hoping to hear from Phil before returning to the office. She took several deep breaths to ground herself. The waiting and wondering added to her stress. She was minutes away from leaving when her cell phone rang.

“Speak.”

Phil’s gravelly voice confirmed what she already knew. No planes, trains, or bus tickets were registered in Claire’s name. She did, however, call a taxi that dropped her off on Magnolia Street.

Magnolia? Sam thanked Phil and hung up. She went over to Mark’s computer and logged in. Oh, Claire . The woman didn’t know shit about covering her tracks. Sam noted what she googled. The domestic abuse hotline.

Bingo. Sam knew exactly where she went. The shelter was one she helped at a couple of times a month, from picking up women who needed a ride to assisting them in finding jobs.

She or one of the men also gave the women self-defense classes.

It was good for the women and kids to know that not all men were abusers, but most were honorable, good men.

However, she would only send a man if all the women agreed they were comfortable with one being there.

Sometimes they weren’t, and that was okay too. She was still happy to help.

It took her about twenty minutes to drive over to the shelter. She had already called Penny to tell her she was on her way over but not the reason why.

Sam found a parking spot in front, walked up the path and rang the doorbell. The peephole darkened for a second, and she heard the clicks of the opening of the locks.

“Sam,” said Penny. “Come in.” She peeked her head out to look up and down the block.

“No one followed me,” said Sam as she walked into the shelter.

“I’m sure, but it’s a habit,” said Penny.

Penny relocked the door and turned to her, confusion on her face. “I was surprised to hear from you. You’re not scheduled to be here for another week.”

“I know. I have a problem. Can we discuss this in your office?”

“Of course.” Penny led her down the long hallway. Kids were laughing and playing, and a couple of the moms came out to say hello. They came to a small room, and Penny pulled out a chair for Sam.

“So. What’s up?”

“I believe you have a woman staying here who is a relative of Mark’s.”

“And?”

Penny was good. Sam had to give her credit for that. “And she was staying with him, us. However, her husband suspects she was staying there. She left to protect us. If she’s here, I would like very much to speak to her.”

Penny sat back in her chair and steepled her hands. “Does she want to speak to you? ”

“I hope so. I want to convince her to come back to the house.”