Page 28 of Shelter for Shay (Broken Heroes Mended Souls #2)

SHAY – FRIDAY EVENING

T he key stuck in the lock again.

Shay jiggled it twice before the deadbolt finally clicked open, and she pushed the door inward with her shoulder.

The familiar creak of the hinges greeted her, along with the faint scent of lavender and lemon cleaner—a scent that always reminded her of her mother.

Today, it only reminded her how exhausted she was.

Her heels thudded softly against the hardwood as she crossed to the kitchen, mail clutched in one hand, phone in the other. A group text from Becca lit up the screen.

Becca: Wine + pizza + zero husbands and kids. You in or what?

Shay smiled faintly. She needed this girls’ night like oxygen. The trial had drained her. Every hour in that jury box felt like an eternity under a microscope, with Blake Edmonds’ stare needling into her skin.

She dropped her phone on the counter and thumbed through the stack of mail.

Electric bill. Credit card offer. Jury reminder postcard, which made her chuckle since she was doing her civic duty.

Then she saw something that didn’t quite fit.

A plain white envelope. No return address. Her name was typed cleanly across the front. No smudges. No stamp out of place. It hadn’t been sent through the regular mail—nothing about it stood out, except how utterly wrong it felt in her hands.

Her stomach tightened.

She opened it slowly, the flap tearing in an uneasy silence. A single sheet of paper slid free.

Typed. Centered. No signature.

I can help you with your financial problems.

I can make it all go away just like I did with your mother.

But you have to play by my rules.

Margaret decided she didn’t want to do that anymore, so I made it go away.

Now we have a problem.

Your boyfriend is digging, and that digging could cost us both.

So first, make him stop.

I don’t care how you do it. But if he keeps going, I’ll put him down like a dog.

Second: I make your money problems disappear, just like I did for most of your life.

You live how you want. I stay out of sight.

Or… I expose everything. The accounts. The past. The truth.

It won’t be good for you—or for your mother’s memory.

It won’t just be tainted. It will be criminal, and you’ll be part of it.

Your call.

Oh, and one more thing.

Do the right thing in the jury room on Monday. You know what that means.

Do your father proud. Hmmm, I wonder if you’ve figured that out. Or if you’re still in the dark.

And if you tell anyone—your boyfriend, the DA, the cops, even the defense attorney—I blow it all up.

I have that power.

The paper fluttered slightly in her trembling hands.

Shay stared at the words, a static ringing building in her ears. She read it again. And again.

And then it all came crashing down like a freight train.

She knew exactly where she’d seen Blake Edmonds… and she’d seen him on numerous occasions.

There’d been the school play where a nicely dressed man stood in the back of the auditorium.

She’d been in the fifth grade. She remembered because one of the teachers approached him and shortly after, he’d left the building.

It had caused a bit of a stir because everyone wondered who the man had been and whether he could have been there for nefarious purposes.

Then there’d been other times she’d seen a nicely dressed man, fitting his frame, who stood off from the crowd at various sporting events. Or her graduation.

And then there was that night she and her mother had dinner at the Blue Moon. The one where she’d seen two men, one wearing expensive clothing and the other a hoodie, get into an SUV.

That had been the night of the murder, only an hour before it had occured. Only blocks from where it had happened.

Oh God. Her mother’s funeral. He’d been there. He’d been watching the entire time.

Shay shivered, staring at the note. This man… Blake Edmonds… was pure evil.

The mention of Moose—so specific. The threat—so cold.

And that one line:

Do your father proud.

Her knees nearly gave out.

She stumbled backward, dropping into one of the kitchen chairs as her thoughts scrambled for meaning. Was this real? A prank? No. No one would joke like this. Not with details they shouldn’t know. Not about her mother.

Her chest tightened with a strange, bitter blend of fear and fury.

Whoever this was… they were watching her. They knew her. And they wanted control—just like they’d had over her mom. Just like Blake had with Adam Lawrence.

She reached for her phone, hand hovering over Moose’s contact—but froze.

The letter’s warning echoed in her head: If you tell anyone… I blow it all up.

Could Blake be watching now? Could he somehow have hacked into her phone? She had to be cautious, but she also had to do something.

She let the phone fall back to the counter, fingers curling into a fist.

Becca’s message pinged again. Shit, she couldn’t bail on the girls, and she wasn’t a very good actress, but maybe she could find a way to send a message… Todd.

She could use Todd.

Shay stared at the counter, her mind racing.

She couldn’t tell Moose—not directly. The letter had made that clear. And she wasn’t about to risk his life over one mistake.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t do something.

She rose from the table slowly and grabbed her phone again. Her fingers hovered over Moose’s name, then moved to her favorites list. Her thumb landed on the contact labeled simply: Todd—Taxes + Lifesaver.

Todd wasn’t just her accountant. He was her best friend’s husband. A steady, numbers-minded genius who had always told her, If anything ever looks fishy, send it my way. I’ll smell it before the sharks do.

She didn’t call. He’d press and she’d cave.

Shay: Hey. Remember that company you were helping look into? Well, I don’t need you to do that anymore. I got all the answers I need. You can let Moose know. It’s a dead end. Oh, I found the receipts you need for the tax return. I’ll give them to Becca tonight. Thanks for everything.

A beat later, she grabbed a clean notebook from the drawer and scribbled the letter word-for-word, just in case the original disappeared.

This was a crazy game, and maybe Todd would come back with wild questions, and maybe no one was looking at her phone, but once he saw that note, he’d be calling Moose. That’s all she needed. A backdoor angle.

With a pair of tweezers, she slid the letter into a plastic Ziploc bag. She wasn’t trained in crime scene preservation, but she’d listened to Becca quote enough CSI shows to know not to leave fingerprints on something that felt like a threat.

She tucked the bag behind the fridge, wedging it between the appliance and the wall. Somewhere safe. Hidden. But close if she needed it.

Only then did she let herself breathe.

Her phone buzzed.

Todd: You okay?

She stared at the blinking cursor. Thank God he didn’t question more.

Shay: Just tired. Thanks, Todd. You're the best.

Her thumb hovered again over Moose’s name.

She wanted to hear his voice. Tell him everything. Let him carry the weight for her, as he always did.

But she couldn’t.

Not yet.

Instead, she typed something else. A kind of insurance.

She opened her email app, created a draft—no recipient—then uploaded a photo of the letter.

In the body, she wrote:

If anything happens to me, check the attached. Do not trust Blake Edmonds. Start with W.E.H. Holdings. I think everything ties back to that. And I think this goes deeper than just my mother’s death.

- Shay

Then she hit “Save Draft” and logged out of the account.

She could always send it later. Or delete it. But if someone found it after the fact—if she was silenced—there’d be a trail. A spark.

A fuse.

Shay looked out the window again, but she wasn’t shaking anymore.

Whoever sent that letter thought they’d backed her into a corner.

They forgot something critical.

Shay Whitaker grew up in the corners.

And she always found a way out.

Moose – Friday Night | Just Off Base

Moose tucked himself in the passenger seat of Thor’s truck. The tires crunched over the gravel as Thor pulled out of the base parking lot, the evening sun already sinking low on the horizon. Moose had barely buckled his seat belt when his phone buzzed in his lap. Ry’s name lit the screen.

He tapped the screen. “Ry, tell me you’ve got something.” He glanced at Thor.

“I’ve got more than something,” Ry said, voice low and tight.

“I dug deeper into W.E.H. Holdings. You were right to be suspicious. It’s not just a shell—it’s a whole network of LLCs meant for money laundering that I can trace back to Edmonds.

It took some major magic to do it, but his fingers are on it.

Unfortunately, Margaret’s and even Shay’s are the foothold. ”

Moose’s stomach dropped. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

“The funding—I can track that back to him—but the LLC itself, at least this one, once he set it up, technically, he’s free and clear.

He was just the backer. Margaret was the owner and operator.

The money went into her account, and it came out clean.

She got to keep some—that was how he tied her to him.

But Shay, she was listed on the documents once she turned eighteen. ”

“Jesus,” Moose muttered. “I wonder if Margaret even knew in the beginning she was laundering his money.”

“Based on what I’ve uncovered, I’d say no,” Ry said.

“It appears she made a bold decision to fuck with Edmonds six years ago. I hacked into his email and found one where she told him he could go fuck himself. That she didn’t need nor want his money.

He responded that if she wanted him to close the account, he’d do it, but she had to do him one favor. ”

“I’m not sure I want to know what that was,” Moose said.

“It had something to do with his assistant and a drop. But I can’t find the details.”

“And Edmonds let her go, just like that?” Moose eased onto the highway with his pulse in his throat.

“I think he held criminal activity over her head. The threat of going to jail. Exposure to her daughter. But maybe Edmonds grew a conscience because he never pulled the trigger. However, I do believe the murder of his assistant has something to do with all this. As in whatever Margaret may have done and Shay being his daughter.”

“Edmonds is married,” Moose said. “His wife is the daughter of someone who is rumored to have ties to a cartel. Not someone you want to fuck with. Rufus mentioned that Bradley believed Margaret was carrying on with a married man.”

“Oh, Edmonds was married all right when Shay was born.” Ry paused, and Moose could hear the tap of keys.

“I found photos. Moose, they’re old. Grainy—but they’re of Blake and Margaret. Together. Intimate. Not just friends.”

His phone dinged. Moose opened the message, and everything clicked.

A young Margaret, smiling, eyes bright. And beside her—Blake Edmonds. Arm slung around her shoulders. Confident. Possessive.

“Jesus,” Moose muttered. “He’s got to be Shay’s father.” Moose’s hand clenched the phone tighter. “And Margaret didn’t want anyone to know. She figured she’d never see Bradley Morrison again. It was a cover story.”

“Exactly.”

“Thanks, Ry. I owe you.”

“Get her out of there,” Ry said softly. “Whatever this is—it’s heating up.”

Moose hung up, heart pounding, only to have the phone ring again.

Todd.

Moose answered. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Uh… I think something’s wrong,” Todd said slowly. “Shay sent me a weird text earlier. Something about not needing help anymore and that she found what she needed. She said I could let you know it was a dead end. But the wording—it was… off.”

Moose’s grip tightened on the phone again. “Did she say anything else?”

“No, but I mentioned it to Becca, and she got this look on her face like something wasn’t right either.

She said Shay was still planning to come out for girls’ night, but…

man, I don’t know. I haven’t gotten anything from her yet.

If this is nothing, I’ll take the heat for overreacting, but I have a weird feeling in my gut. ”

Moose had that same feeling now—like a low rumble before an avalanche.

“Thanks for calling, Todd. You did the right thing. I’ve only got the weekend, but I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Just… be careful, man.”

“I always am.”

He hung up and turned to Thor, who was watching him carefully from the driver’s seat. “Change of plans.”

Thor nodded once. “Say the word.”

“I need to get to Lake George. Tonight.”

Moose pulled up Shay’s contact and hit call. It rang twice before she answered, background noise buzzing like laughter and music.

“Hey,” she said brightly, but he could hear the tension just beneath it. “We’re at Blue Moon. Becca’s already had two cosmos, so this could get interesting. I hope she doesn’t get too hammered. I have a package for her to give to Todd about my mom’s accounting stuff.”

Now that was odd. Moose swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “I hope I’m not going to ruin your girls’ night, but I’m coming up for the weekend.”

She paused, then quietly said, “Moose…”

“I know, Shay. I know you need me. That’s all I can say right now, but—I know.”

He heard her breath catch. A small exhale. Relief or fear—maybe both.

“I’ll see you… when you get here,” she whispered. “Be safe, okay?”

“I will,” he promised. “And Shay? Stick close to Becca. Stay in public. Ask Becca if she can stay with you until I get there.”

“I will,” she said, voice softer now. “Moose?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad you called.”

He closed his eyes. “Me too.”

When he hung up, Thor gave him a long look. “You want to tell me what we’re walking into?”

Moose’s jaw clenched as he stared out at the road ahead. “Someone’s been playing God with Shay’s life for twenty-eight years. And I think they just threatened to do it again.”

Thor nodded grimly. “Then we’d better call the rest of the team and drive fast.”

Moose didn’t respond.

But he didn’t need to.

He’d be there by morning. And nothing—nothing—was going to stop him.